Life in a Dreaming Trio (2/2)
Title: Life in a Dreaming Trio
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: The movie Inception does not belong to me and I am making no money from this story, just a good-ole fanwork!
Pairing/Characters: Arthur, Eames, Ariadne; Arthur/Eames (Not the focus, however)
Word Count: 15,446
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur; the architect, the forger and the point man; the brand new, or really not so new, top of the extraction ladder, stealing your secrets and delivering your dreams. Adventure after adventure!
Author notes: This story is a sequel to my Extraction by Three, so it would be better to read that one first but you can still read this one on it's own. [The Third part, now completed, can be found here: The Architect, The Forger, and The Point Man]
Part 1
Ariadne opens the door to Eames’ apartment without knocking, slams it behind her, then plops down on a stool in front of the island in the kitchen. Arthur, seated on a stool next to the one Ariadne just collapsed into, stares at her with his coffee mug held part way up in the air. Ariadne shoves the one piece of toast left on Arthur’s plate into her mouth, swallowing it so fast she nearly chokes. Arthur just blinks at her, still frozen.
“What was…?” Eames begins as he comes in the room then stops when he sees Ariadne. Cautiously, Eames walks over and stands on the other side of the counter. “Good morning, Ariadne.”
“Dom asked me on a date,” she blurts out.
“What?” Arthur snaps in the same moment Eames says, “finally.”
The two men turn sharply to look at each other.
“What?” Eames asks with surprise just as Arthur says, “finally?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“What do you mean, finally?”
Eames clears his throat then reaches out and pushes Arthur’s hand holding his coffee mug down so it’s back on the counter. Then he lays his hands flat on top.
“I simply think it is good to see Cobb getting back out there. He has been alone for quite a long time even after those lovely years you two spent dealing with his projection wife turning feral.” Arthur huffs. “So it’s good to see him trying to find someone new in his life.”
Arthur glances sidelong at the woman next to him. “Someone new?”
“I’m not new,” Ariadne points out.
Eames waves a hand in the air as if to say ‘not important’ then he picks up Arthur’s mug and takes a sip.
“Of course he’s going to ask our dear girl.” Eames hands Arthur back his mug and pats Ariadne’s arm once. “You’re probably the only woman he knows.”
Ariadne groans and places her hands on her forehead with her elbows propped up on the counter top.
“Dom is too old for Ariadne,” Arthur counters, pointing at the woman with his coffee mug.
“That could be a matter of opinion.”
“Is he too old?” Arthur asks, turning to Ariadne.
She sighs and drops her head onto the counter. “That’s not the point!”
“What is the point?” Arthur snaps, banging his mug down on the marble.
Ariadne jerks her head up once. “Arthur, its Dom, that’s the point!”
“What?”
Eames puts a hand on Arthur’s arm. “Hush, darling. For a man as attractive as you are it’s a wonder you’ve made it this far.”
Arthur gapes. “What does that mean?”
“Ariadne,” Eames touches the top of her head and she looks up. “What did you say to him?”
Ariadne sighs then sits up straight. “Well, it just caught me by surprise. I told him I’d have to think about it.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said it was just dinner, nothing too serious.” Ariadne takes Arthur’s coffee and gulps some down. “Trying to reassure me, I guess?”
“And what did you say?”
“Son of a -” Arthur grabs his coffee back from Ariadne and groans at Eames. “What are you, a fifteen year old girl?”
“I have been.” Eames takes the mug from Arthur and raises his eyebrows. “Twice.”
Eames downs the last of the coffee and puts the mug down on the counter. Arthur glares at Eames and points at the mug.
“I had about one sip of that.”
“So grumpy in the morning,” Ariadne mutters.
Swiping his mug off of the counter, Arthur stands up and walks over to the coffee pot beside the refrigerator. As Arthur pours himself more coffee, Ariadne chews her bottom lip and looks at Eames.
“So, what do I do? I mean, this is Dom. I feel like he… He’s just…”
“Too close?” Eames finishes.
“Yes.” She nods, an expression of mild surprise on her face. “I guess when you work with someone, when you know that much about the levels of their mind…”
“But it’s always that way once you’ve dreamed with someone.” Eames comes around the counter and sits in Arthur’s chair. “There is less mystery.”
“Or it makes more.”
Eames and Ariadne turn to look at Arthur. He leans with his hip against the blue countertop and tilts his head at Eames. Eames just smiles slightly back then turns to look at Ariadne.
“I think you should give it a try, get dinner out of him at least; he’s sure to pay like the occasional gentleman he is.”
Arthur suddenly jerks up by the counter. “You can’t ever tell Dom you talked to us - to me - about this.”
“I’m sure he’s already surmised, love.”
Ariadne laughs and looks away. “He did say ‘ask the boys and get back to me.’”
Eames begins to laugh while Arthur practically drops his mug on the counter, liquid sloshing out, and puts his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is my life…”
Eames snickers more into his hand.
“Okay, done. This is done.” Ariadne stands up, picks up Arthur’s refilled mug, and chugs down half of it with a hiss. “I’m calling Dom, goodbye.”
“Why is it always my coffee with you two?” Arthur snaps at her back.
Ariadne opens the door. “Goodbye!” Then it slams shut.
Eames looks at Arthur. “You are simply no help.”
Arthur glares at Eames then points at his mug. “I gave the coffee.”
Ariadne and Dom go out on a total of two dates, one Ethiopian dinner and one art gallery followed by martinis. They decide, after the food and the laughter and the money spent, the whole thing feels just too weird. They’re practically siblings with their mirrored skills as architects and their time working together on inception.
Plus, Ariadne effectively helped Dom kill his wife for the second time which would be an odd thing to have in any relationship.
-------------
The three of them are in the Notre Dame. Their German mark has a penchant for cathedrals as well as famous places. The most famous cathedral of Paris is perfect to tell one’s friends about. Also, if you’re a cocaine addict with a habit of theft then the crowded, jostling throngs of the Notre Dame are a welcome haven.
Arthur follows their mark quietly at a distance, watching her moves as Eames passes by, partner drug dealer forge in place.
Then without warning the world blinks out for an entire second. Everything is blurry, indistinct, all colors and none and it’s like floating on a blank sheet of paper. Then the scenery returns, architecture crashing down again with the force of an earthquake. Arthur spins in place, completely shocked. The mark shakes her head, looking from side to side but seems to accept she was just imagining things.
Eames, however, isn’t the drug dealer anymore. Arthur sees him suddenly sprinting down the crowded hall toward the front entrance, knocking over chairs as he goes. Projections curse at him as he passes by. He is heading straight for Ariadne and Arthur can see why. She is lying by one dark marble column on the floor curled around herself. Arthur turns and bolts.
“Ariadne?” Eames is kneeling down beside her. “Ariadne? Love, what is it? Ariadne!”
Arthur runs up beside them. “What’s wrong?”
Eames only flashes Arthur a panicked look which makes Arthur take a step back in surprise.
Ariadne groans in pain and uncoils, lying flat. She jerks her head from side to side, eyes scrunched tight. The colors in the room start to fade to a dull gray. A projection touches Arthur’s shoulder.
“Is she -“
“She’s fine!” Arthur snaps.
“Ariadne,” Eames whispers and holds her face still, “talk to us, dear, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“My head…” she groans. “I can’t think straight!” She gasps. “It’s just - it’s all swirling, oh my god!”
Suddenly, she springs up and jumps to her feet, knocking Eames over and barreling past Arthur toward one of the front doors to the right. Arthur yanks Eames up by his arm and chases after her, mark completely forgotten. Ahead of them, Ariadne hits the doors, pulls them open and runs outside. They follow her and find themselves running down the Pont Neuf, water churning like a storm below and projections clinging to the sides of the bridge.
“What the…” Eames starts, staring about in surprise.
“Keep going,” Arthur says, “we have to catch her.”
Ariadne is running and running and she isn’t stopping. Her head turns from side to side and the white clouds suddenly morph and grow, turning perfectly black above them like clouds never are. Rain and hail pelt down on the bridge, falling so fast that stones break off the pillars to sink into the Seine.
“Oh please, stop, stop!” Ariadne shouts and falls onto her knees holding her head.
Arthur and Eames catch up to her on the slippery stone just in time for her to jump up again. Eames tries to grab onto her arm but she twists away and climbs up onto the ledge, hand on a lamppost. All three of them are soaked already.
“Ariadne, stop!” Arthur shouts, climbing up after her. “Let us help you. Tell us what’s wrong!”
Without responding she jumps into the water.
“Has to be something above,” Eames says as he climbs up.
They jump after her. They hit the water and fall through onto iron. They look around and see people with cameras leaning over guard rails, a scenic view of Paris below, no rain.
“The Eiffel Tower,” Arthur says as he stands.
Eames gets up and they both see a flash of a red coat as Ariadne starts to climb the stairs to the second level. There are no people in her way. They run after, twisting up and up, somehow not managing to catch up with her.
“Something is mixing her up,” Arthur shouts back at Eames. “She’s making wild connections, trying to make sense of something.”
“She’s got Paris down.” Eames almost trips but keeps going. “She’s picking the big things, the landmarks we talked about in planning.”
“She’s retracting her steps in the architecture.”
Eames gasps. “It’s the sedative formula!” Arthur stops in surprise but Eames shoves him onward in the back. “Bala said one person who’d used it had side effects.”
“What side effects?” Arthur snaps angrily.
“It was once,” Eames snaps back, “he didn’t tell me!”
“Make it twice.”
Suddenly, they see Ariadne stop a few steps above them, only about half way to the second level. She turns to her right, touches the latticed iron and pushes. A square swings out like a door and she runs through. They reach the opening and jump after her.
They land running on pavement, a sidewalk with shops to their right and the street to their left. The shops are glowing golden and in the street the cars are stopped. In the distance the Arc de Triomphe looms only the stone has turned gray, almost sliver.
“Champs-Élysées, we talked about taking the mark down through the shops.” Eames weaves around fallen café tables, pulling Arthur by the arm to avoid a chair. “High prices, obvious class and status, with her possible connections would’ve been perfect.”
“I know!” Arthur bites back.
Ahead of them by only a few yards, Ariadne suddenly pitches forward and drops onto the pavement, hunched around her knees.
“Grab her!” Arthur shouts.
They catch up before she can move again and Eames takes her by the arms, pulling her up. Her eyes are open looking around wildly as if she can’t actually see correctly. The colors of the dream spike up, sharper and brighter, turning into golds and silvers and bronzes.
“Help me…” she whimpers.
“I’m sorry.” Arthur pulls his gun out of the holster around his ankle and puts it against Ariadne’s head.
He pulls the trigger.
The minute Arthur and Eames wake up they jump out of their chairs and pull Ariadne upright on the bed. She gasps and tires to push them off.
“It’s all right, Ariadne,” Eames says, “you’re awake.”
Ariadne’s hands reach blindly into her pocket, pulling out her pawn. She rolls it over and over in her one hand, other against her head.
“I can’t see straight…” she stares at them, looks around the room, stares at them. “My head is spinning, everything was too bright, the dream felt wrong and I couldn’t connect the…I couldn’t…”
“It was the sedative,” Arthur tells her. “There have been side effects in others.”
She blinks. “I see…”
Suddenly she slides off the edge of the bed and throws up on the carpet. She gasps twice, pushing her hair out of her face and throws up again. Arthur and Eames look at each other. Eames leans down and touches her back. She groans, waving him off. Slowly she stands up still shaking and puts her pawn back in her pocket.
“Get me out of here,” she says, latching onto both their arms, “now.”
The trio leave the hotel, PASIV torn away from their mark’s arm who they leave to wake up confused as she likes. They never contact the client. They do however pay a little visit to Bala’s shop in Dahka, must get their money back. If Bala has a broken jaw and some smashed merchandise after their visit then no one mentions it.
-------------
“Ready to be home?” Eames asks, looking at the woman beside him in the driver’s seat.
“You ready to be home? Two months without Arthur?”
Eames nods at Ariadne and looks out at the passing buildings. The two of them had taken a job with a different extractor while Arthur was busying helping Cobb with his ill father; interesting to think of Arthur in the role of healer instead of the one holding the gun. Then again Arthur had really been going more to make sure Cobb didn’t go crazy, something he had extensive experience with. While he was gone, the two of them had received the job offer. They’d had time, seemed an easy job, so off they went. It was only a week or so for Arthur but their duo job had ended up being longer than expected.
“I’ll be glad to be back to our normal team,” Ariadne says. “I’m not sure I really liked David and Rose.”
Eames snorts. “As an extractor, think David was a bit rough around the edges.”
“And Arthur could run circles around Rose.”
“Why did we do this job again?”
Ariadne turns the car to the right and points a finger at Eames. “It was your fault. ‘Oh Ariadne, it’ll be a quick job, easy work love, simple architecture darling, bit of extra cash sweetheart.’”
“I don’t recall using the word ‘sweetheart.’”
“All because they laid on the sugar sweet compliments about your forging.”
Eames tilts his sunglasses down and looks at her over the edge. “Went well, though.”
“Yes, because the mark was a small fry.”
“You’re just upset because you have an elitist streak now, dear.”
“’Dear,’” Ariadne mocks.
Eames snorts and laughs as Ariadne slides the car up to the curb. She shuts off the engine and looks up at the apartment building.
“Home sweet, Arthur’s home.”
“One of them.” Eames smiles, opens the car door, and steps out. “Coming up to say hello?”
Ariadne looks at the steering wheel then back to Eames with a sly smile. She shakes her head once. “No need to get in the way of that.”
“Of what?”
She laughs. “When Arthur jumps on you, of course.”
“My dear,” Eames crouches to pull his bag out of the backseat then stands up straight again. “Arthur saves most of his jumping for armed projections and occasional dream buildings.”
“I think you might be underestimating how much he’ll have missed you.”
“I think you might be underestimating how much control he has.” Eames hoists the strap of the bag onto his shoulder and adjusts his sunglasses. “And how much he subconsciously enjoys annoying me with his false indifference.”
Ariadne laughs. “Okay, well, when you get knocked over you can tell Arthur I said ‘I told you so.’”
“I’ll tell him you missed him too.”
Ariadne starts the engine again as Eames closes the car door. She waves her hand at him then pulls away from the curb. Eames watches the bumper of her car grow smaller down the strip for a minute until he can’t see the shinning metal any longer. Then he turns and enters the building taking the elevator up to the seventh floor, same gray carpet and nondescript walls. Eames steels himself to control his desire to drop Arthur to the floor the minute he gets inside and walks down the hall.
Eames is in front of the door with his key out, ready to sneak on in, when Arthur opens it. Eames looks up from the empty space where the door knob had just been and smiles at Arthur standing before him in a white shirt and gray vest with trousers to match, no tie. He looks like heaven.
“Hello,” Eames says.
Arthur smiles and steps aside slightly to give Eames room to pass by into the apartment. “Hi.”
As soon as Eames steps inside and Arthur closes the door, Eames finds himself pressed up against said door by Arthur’s body, lips on his and fingers unbuttoning his jacket. Eames drops his bag, sun glasses falling off his head to clatter on the floor and forgets about breathing. Eames catches a moan in his throat and kisses back just as enthusiastically. He keeps his hands on Arthur’s face out of the other man’s way as his fingers fly at dream speeds over Eames’ buttons. It feels like it’s been a year and not just two months and Arthur is oxygen, sunlight, everything.
Eames tries to reach into his pocket, touch his totem, assure himself that Arthur is just crazy, not unreal, but Arthur grabs both his hands, and pins them against the door.
“No,” Arthur kisses him again, bites his lip, “if anyone is dreaming it’s me.”
Eames blinks again and can’t think of anything, nothing catchy or coy or clever, to say.
Arthur lets Eames’ hands go to pull off his jacket, rip through a few shirt buttons and slide his hands against Eames’ skin. He makes a satisfied humming noise and slowly breathes out. His crazed motions begin to slow down and he leans against Eames against the door. Arthur kisses Eames calmly like he’s some French dessert and dances his hands around Eames body, mapping skin. Eames lets his hands settle together at the small of Arthur’s back.
“You missed me,” he says softly between kisses.
Arthur laughs once, a small sound of unsurprised amusement. “Yes, Eames, I did.”
Eames smiles in a shy way which he rarely does around anyone else apart from Arthur. Arthur laughs again.
“You know that since the inception job we haven’t been apart for more than two weeks at a time and inception was three years ago.”
Eames’ eyes widen and he purses his lips. “Ah.” Then he pulls some of his well crafted persona off the floor and cocks his head to the side. “Still, Arthur, dear, you are not usually one to pounce into such physical displays of affection.”
“Only for you.” Arthur pulls a hand away from his skin crusade and thumbs Eames’ neck. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me or maybe this is just me in a long term relationship.”
Eames smiles slowly. “I believe the extent of this proclaimed emotion is making my head spin.”
Arthur scratches his nails once along the base of Eames’ neck. “That’s the idea.”
Eames squeezes Arthur and kisses him. Then he makes a ‘hmmm’ noise into the kiss and pulls back.
“Oh, I am compelled from Ariadne to say: ‘I told you so.’”
“I know.” Arthur pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and holds it up for Eames to see. “She texted just before I opened the door.”
Eames glances at the touch screen: Tell Eames I said ‘I told you so’ when you assault him. Missed you! -A
Eames looks back at Arthur and smiles. “Texting while driving can be dangerous, will have to talk to that one.”
Arthur takes his arm down and pockets his phone again. “Not right now.” Then he pulls Eames sharply away from the door.
-------------
Arthur, Ariadne, and Eames crash down together behind a cubicle wall as bullets rain over them, ruining the carpet and making papers fly everywhere. Arthur curves around the right side of the cube while Eames goes around the left and both fire back at the projections. Ariadne keeps low in the middle and rips open the black executive folder they just took from the wall safe.
“What the hell?” Ariadne snaps, one sheet of paper held in front of her face.
“What?” the men ask without looking.
“It’s just account numbers!”
Eames glances at her and groans. “How many?”
“Um, about two dozen.” A bullet tears through the fabric of the cube wall and barely misses Ariadne’s shoulder.
Eames jumps up for one moment, shoots the nearest projection with the middle shot and ducks back down unscathed.
“It doesn’t even say if they are deposit accounts or ones stolen from. I don’t even know if they are within or outside of the company. It’s just the numbers, nothing identifying.”
Eames snorts. “I do hate insider trading, so boring.”
“The rest must be on level one,” Arthur says. “Here, switch.”
Arthur slips back into the cube and takes the paper from Ariadne as she takes his gun and slides to his vacant post. Eames glances back briefly at Arthur.
“You and your photographic memory.”
Arthur spares Eames a quick smile. “Certainly helps.”
Eames leans out again and shoots two projections in the chest. “Best point man in the business.”
“Another wave!” Ariadne shoots a female projection in the stomach then smacks Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you done? You’re the better shot here!”
Arthur stares at the page again then drops the paper and slides behind Ariadne. “Twenty four, all set.”
“The kick is not for another twelve minutes,” Eames says, “Could we have missed something here?”
“Daniel is long gone with this sort of armed response.” Ariadne checks her watch.
“Bomb threat.” Eames laughs. “How does that work so often?”
“Though he could be trying to back up his files,” Ariadne continues, “to erase the evidence just in case there is an inquiry or something and we could get him there.”
“With this many projections firing on us?” Arthur counters.
“Fine, I did make level one his house for a reason.”
Eames ducks back behind the thin wall and fumbles through his pockets for another clip. Ariadne takes Eames’ gun, yanks another clip and magazine out of her pants then shoves them into Eames gun and hands it back.
“Thank you, dear.” Eames turns back to the edge of the wall. “Arthur, you said the one computer at his house has extra security and -”
Eames finishes his sentence with a shout as he is shot in the chest and drops his gun. Eames knocks against the cubicle across from theirs then crumples to the side onto his back at Ariadne’s feet.
“Damn it!” Ariadne shouts, putting a hand on the blood pooling on Eames’ chest and picks up his gun with her other.
Arthur glances back once and frowns. Eames shakes his head and pushes off Ariadne’s hand.
“I’m done.”
“We need the rest.” Ariadne squeezes Eames’ hand and shoots over the edge of the wall. “Tell Roxanne we have the numbers. We just need the connecting names and dates and company information.”
Eames closes his eyes and whispers, “yes, ma’am.”
Arthur and Ariadne both spare a moment from their shooting to look down at Eames. He is dead. Arthur shakes his head sharply once then looks at Ariadne.
“And you thought a fourth would be good.”
She sighs and looks back at the projections clustered around the far edge of the cubicle rows. “We needed Eames down here for the vice-president. Daniel reports directly to him.”
“You could have been above.”
“I saw your dreaming of this level. It was not good enough.”
“Well, then I could have been above.”
Ariadne makes a frustrated noise. “Arthur, if you’re going to do this every time Eames gets shot in a dream I am going to shoot you first. Plus Roxanne got us all of the entry codes and the references Eames needed to get into Dytan Dynamics. She was necessary.”
Arthur huffs derisively.
A projection suddenly breaks the line and comes charging at their position. Ariadne leans back, grabs the laptop off the desk she and Arthur are crouched around then throws it at the projection. The computer hits the man in the knees sending him falling to the ground where Ariadne shoots him in the head.
She nods back at Arthur. “You’re just upset you had to share your role for this job.”
Arthur laughs once and switches guns. “Maybe.” He stands up, shoots three projections in rapid succession then drops down again. “Or maybe I just prefer us as a trio.”
Ariadne smiles, “me too.”
“We’ve got to move.”
Ariadne and Arthur jump up together and both run down the isles between the cubicles with one row between them. Arthur stops, turns once, and shoots behind him. The projections are giving chase.
“They’re following!” Arthur shouts ahead at Ariadne.
Ariadne comes up from her hunch shooting and jumps through the door out into the hall. A projection shoots after her, shattering one of the four glass windows which make up part of the room’s wall. Ariadne dives out of the way, broken glass catching her face and she makes it down the hall.
“Arthur!” she shouts and presses the button for the elevator.
Arthur comes tearing out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and shoots back through the broken window.
“Why bother to close the door?” Ariadne asks with a laugh.
The elevator dings and opens. Arthur runs and slides into the elevator after Ariadne. She punches the button for the lobby and the door close button. As the metal slides shut they see projections running down the hall with angered looks. Ariadne snorts.
“It’s kind of satisfying to destroy this building.” Arthur glances at her. “The architecture is so ugly and no one likes cubicles.”
They both laugh and suddenly they hear bouncy French sounding music. Ariadne’s brow crinkles and she looks at Arthur.
Je revois la ville en fête et en délire…
“La Foule?”
Arthur shrugs. “I was tired of the other song and La Foule is much peppier.”
“Did you break the other CD?”
“Yes.”
They blink, silver elevator doors clicking out, and they sit up on the kitchen floor of Daniel’s house. Eames, Roxanne, and their mark are nowhere to be seen. Ariadne pulls the tubes out of their arms and stands up as Arthur hides the dream PASIV away in a closet. Just as Ariadne walks to the door it opens. Arthur pulls out his gun but Eames comes through and he drops his arms.
“Have fun?” Eames asks.
Ariadne peeks out the door and sees the hall empty. “Roxanne and Daniel?”
Eames waves a hand to the left. “Roxanne is presenting a very thorough and detailed plan to upgrade the company’s computer security system to him as we speak upstairs in his study.”
“Wasn’t that her back up plan?” Arthur asks.
“Apparently he wasn’t keen on making out.”
“That was not her plan.” Ariadne pulls the door all the way open and walks out quietly.
The men follow her down the hall, a wall with portraits to their left and two closed doors on their right. They can hear people talking somewhere above them. As they turn to the left the hall opens into a large, high-ceilinged antechamber. Arthur takes point at the stairs to the left while Eames and Ariadne head off to the right. Eames drops to his knees in front of the wooden double doors and starts working on the lock.
Suddenly the whole house shakes violently. Three portraits fall to the floor and Ariadne slams against the wall.
“How much time do we have?” Arthur asks.
“We should still have at least ten minutes until the second kick.” Ariadne stands upright again and glances up. “Could it be the train?”
“Better hope not.” Eames bangs the heel of his palm against the door knob, something clearly falls on the inside of the room and the door swings open. “I’d rather not die asleep attached to a PASIV in a train collision.”
“Such optimism,” Arthur mutters as the two go into the office.
Ariadne heads straight to the computer and sits down in front of the monitor, fingers clicking away.
“Code?”
“Th906l#82Jlii00o12.”
Ariadne whistles. “How did you remember that one? Didn’t leave it to Arthur?”
“Roxanne bet me twenty pound I couldn’t do it.”
“How’s your wallet feel?”
“Like it has a few pints in it.”
Ariadne clicks a key with a flourish of her hand and grins. “There, into the folder.”
Eames leans down and sighs. “Oh fabulous, now we have thirty subfolders.”
Suddenly the lights in the room flicker and the computer screen winks off then back on again. Ariadne and Eames both put up their hands reflexively and look down at the keyboard.
“Something is going on up there,” Eames says.
“We’d better hurry.”
Ariadne clicks through folders quickly, excel sheets and documents, lists of names. She flies through five folders, charts of sales projections, quarterly statements.
“Wait!” Eames touches the screen. “Look, password protected there.”
“And we didn’t think the second one was going to happen!” Ariadne clicks on the folder and types in the password she memorized just in case.
The folder opens and there are two documents inside, one with a list of names beside numbers and an excel sheet with what appears to be bank transactions. Eames jogs out of the room and is replaced by Arthur a moment later.
“Lovely.” Arthur leans over Ariadne and eyes the screen. “Twenty accounts to steal from and four to deposit. Success.”
“Nice to know he likes variety.”
Abruptly the house shakes again and Arthur jerks like something has pulled him.
“Arthur?” Ariadne stands up.
“Something is -” Arthur starts then he falls over, eyes vacant.
“Eames!” Ariadne shouts, no thought to the mark upstairs who could hear. “Eames, Arthur is gone!”
Eames runs in and they both look back to the floor, no one is there.
Eames stares at Ariadne. “Where did he go?”
“He just jerked and then fell. He must have been pulled out.”
They hear shouting upstairs. Daniel is yelling something about ‘ambulance’ and ‘don’t know what happened.’
“Roxanne too?”
Ariadne looks at her watch. No music is playing. The house shakes again and books fall off the shelves around them. The shaking does not stop this time and the two extractors run out of the office. They slide to a stop in the entryway to see Daniel standing at the top of the stairs.
“Who are…”
Eames pulls his gun but before any of them can say more Ariadne’s head wrenches to the side and she falls to her knees like she’s been slapped.
“Fuck - they’re trying to -” Ariadne collapses to the floor.
Eames looks back up at Daniel who is staring at him in horror. Suddenly a shower of water cascades down from the chandelier drenching him and Eames blinks away the drips of water to a train.
Ariadne suddenly slams into Eames lap and they both jump up again in the small train cabin. Daniel is lying on his side now on the seat where he used to be sitting upright, still asleep. Roxanne sits to his left with a bullet wound in her chest and their technician lies in a heap on the floor next to another unidentified man. All of this is a backdrop to Arthur in the middle struggling with a man in a blue suit.
Ariadne grabs the man’s arm and tries to pull him off of Arthur but he gets in a good shot with his elbow, smashing Ariadne in the nose. She flies back and slams into the cabin doors with a yelp. Arthur spins once and throws the man off himself, narrowly missing Eames. Eames pulls the gun from the holster in his coat and pistol whips the man across the face. He shakes his head and tries to get up again but falls.
“Give it up,” Arthur snaps.
However, the man heaves himself up again, hitting away Eames’ gun and reaching into his jacket. Arthur quickly grabs his gun off the floor, silencer already in place, and shoots. The man falls back, blood seeping from his mouth. Arthur and Eames turn and look at the door waiting to see if anyone comes to investigate the noise.
“I think my nose is broken,” Ariadne says weakly from the floor.
“What the hell is all this?” Eames hisses, trying to flick water from his hair.
“They work for Daniel I think.” Arthur points at both bodies. “Private contractors.”
“We can’t leave it like this!”
“Yes, we can.” Ariadne stands up with a hand on her nose. “Our tech boy had a criminal record, right, and there is Roxanne. All we need to do is move Daniel to his own cabin.”
The men stare at her in confusion.
When the train arrives in Chicago the local journalists are very interested to learn about a dream extraction gone wrong on the train during transit from St. Louis. An amateur extractor and her young technician attempted to gain classified client information from two security contractors. Happily for the front page printers, all four ended up dead.
“Now we need a new PASIV.” Arthur crumples up the paper and throws it in a garbage can.
“You have two more, Arthur,” Ariadne points out.
Eames hails a cab. “He doesn’t like to get his personal ones dirty.”
Arthur points at Ariadne. “You can buy it.”
“Just suck it up, Arthur,” Ariadne says as they climb into the cab.
-------------
Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur sit together in a large hotel room, tan chairs and tan carpet. The room is in fact a suite with a round table and chairs in the middle, desk by the wall, and two chairs on either side of a table under the window. The bed and bath have their own separate room to the right.
Arthur sits still as always to the right of the window while Ariadne forgoes her sitting to jump up and pace, restlessly checking her watch. Eames sits on the other side of the windows, his feet up on another chair, with “The Stranger” held in front of his face.
Suddenly Arthur’s phone rings. Ariadne stops pacing to look at Arthur as he stands.
“Yes?”
Eames glances over the edge of his book.
“Yes, 312.” Arthur clicks a button on his phone and drops his hand.
Ariadne tilts her head and Arthur nods back at her. Eames’ eyes slide back down to his book.
“They’re late,” Ariadne says, crossing her arms.
“Ten minutes.” Eames looks up again. “Mustn’t be so impatient.”
Ariadne just ‘humphs’ back at him and looks at her watch again. “Eleven.”
Eames snorts.
Arthur sits down again and raps his knuckles on the table. “Enough.”
A minute later they hear a soft knock at the door. Ariadne strides over to the door, checks the peep hole, and opens the door a few inches.
“Mr. Aznar?”
He nods and Ariadne steps back pulling the door open with her. Aznar and a younger man with a black briefcase in his hand walk in. Ariadne quickly closes the door behind them. Arthur stands up and extends his hand.
“Mr. Aznar, I’m Arthur,” he inclines his head behind the two men, “this is Ariadne.” He turns his head back and Eames closes his book. “And Eames.”
Aznar motions to the other man with him. “My secretary, Pérez.”
Arthur indicates the table and Arthur, Ariadne, and Aznar sit down. Eames stands up to hover behind Arthur and Pérez stays standing behind his boss.
“So,” Arthur begins, “you have information for us about the mark?”
Pérez opens the briefcase and hands a blue folder to Arthur. Arthur flips it open on the table. He pulls the first photograph out of the folder and lays it on the table above the folder. Ariadne and Eames’ eyes both switch to the photo from Arthur’s hands then back. Arthur turns the page and Eames puts his finger down on top, stopping Arthur from turning. He pulls out two sheets, photos attached. Arthur turns the page again and Ariadne reaches out to pull a page away. The three read over their separate pages silently for a moment then they all look up as if on cue.
“Political then,” Arthur says.
“Looking to make or break a career?” Eames asks.
“I will need information on her home residence as well as work,” Ariadne says.
Arthur closes the folder. “Any information you have on her that is not in here we need.”
Eames holds up both sheets. “Any access to these two, double affairs?”
Ariadne slides her paper back to Arthur. “And any other places she frequents.”
Aznar stares at them blinking at the flurry of words. He clears his throat then sits up straight.
“Yes, political.” He looks at Arthur; “And break it.” He looks at Eames then back to Arthur. “We want to know any illicit activity, anything illegal she has been doing as we suspect.”
Arthur opens the folder again. “Anything more specific than that?”
“We suspect she has been funneling government money away from certain programs into her own pet projects as well as her own bank account.”
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good thief?” Ariadne mutters.
Eames lightly kicks her chair.
“Though,” Aznar continues, “if you were to find anything beyond that we would not be opposed to learning about it as well.”
Arthur smiles. “I see.”
Arthur snaps the folder closed then he and Ariadne stand up. Arthur holds out his hand. Aznar stands as well and they shake. Ariadne walks over to the door and opens it.
“Please send us any further information and we will contact you about payment,” Arthur says as they walk out.
Aznar nods once and then the two men are gone. Ariadne closes the door then leans back against it. She stares at the two men then jumps up, twirling around once.
“Spain, yes!” She claps her hands. “Oh, it’s so gorgeous there. Maybe I can build a castle! Has she ever been in one? Does she live in one? Check that. Oh, I can’t wait!”
“It’s not vacation,” Eames points out.
Ariadne swipes the file off the table. “I can multitask.”
Eames walks back over to his chair and picks up his book. “Who doesn’t enjoy destroying corrupt government officials and taking in the sights at the same time?”
“Stay on task,” Arthur says, pointing at Ariadne. “Not like Vancouver.”
Ariadne sighs heavily. “Oh my god, I mess up one time.”
“I distinctly recall seeing a clock tower looking a bit too much like Big Ben,” Eames says.
Ariadne glares at him and lightly smacks his shoulder with the folder. Arthur snatches the folder out of Ariadne’s hand.
Eames chuckles and puts his book on the table. “Still,” He takes Arthur’s hand and spins him around once. “Can work on our salsa dancing.
Arthur pulls his hand away. “No way in hell.”
Ariadne takes Eames’ hand instead and they tango over to the door. Eames dips her and she grabs the door handle, pushing down and pulling it open as Eames pulls her up. They flip around into the space of the doorframe and strike an ending pose, each with one leg splayed back and one hand decoratively up in the air. They look back at Arthur.
“Choreographed?”
“Don’t be jealous, Arthur,” Ariadne says then stands up straight, the door slipping closed again.
“Oh no, my dear.” Eames straightens his jacket. “He should be because of your marvelous dancing.”
Arthur drops the folder then strides over, pulls Eames into his arms and begins dancing them around the room. Arthur spins Eames, hugs him close, cha-chas once, and pulls him back. He turns Eames to the left, dancing them around the table. Then he slows them into a languid back and forth and a spin and back again. They turn around toward the door, two more cha-chas, and end with Arthur dipping Eames down effortlessly.
“Is there a song playing in your head?” Ariadne asks.
“Yes,” Arthur and Eames answer together.
Arthur kisses Eames hard and pulls him back up, letting go. Arthur walks back and picks the folder up off the floor and Eames’ book from the table. He clears his throat as Eames grins at him. Ariadne sighs and opens the door.
“Come on, boys,” She smiles at them, “Spain awaits.”
Eames laughs and follows, Arthur bringing up the rear and closing the door.
“Indeed it does,” Arthur says.
The three smile in time and walk down the hall. Another day, another job, not in jail, and still at the top: the architect, the forger and the point man.
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: The movie Inception does not belong to me and I am making no money from this story, just a good-ole fanwork!
Pairing/Characters: Arthur, Eames, Ariadne; Arthur/Eames (Not the focus, however)
Word Count: 15,446
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur; the architect, the forger and the point man; the brand new, or really not so new, top of the extraction ladder, stealing your secrets and delivering your dreams. Adventure after adventure!
Author notes: This story is a sequel to my Extraction by Three, so it would be better to read that one first but you can still read this one on it's own. [The Third part, now completed, can be found here: The Architect, The Forger, and The Point Man]
Part 1
Ariadne opens the door to Eames’ apartment without knocking, slams it behind her, then plops down on a stool in front of the island in the kitchen. Arthur, seated on a stool next to the one Ariadne just collapsed into, stares at her with his coffee mug held part way up in the air. Ariadne shoves the one piece of toast left on Arthur’s plate into her mouth, swallowing it so fast she nearly chokes. Arthur just blinks at her, still frozen.
“What was…?” Eames begins as he comes in the room then stops when he sees Ariadne. Cautiously, Eames walks over and stands on the other side of the counter. “Good morning, Ariadne.”
“Dom asked me on a date,” she blurts out.
“What?” Arthur snaps in the same moment Eames says, “finally.”
The two men turn sharply to look at each other.
“What?” Eames asks with surprise just as Arthur says, “finally?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“What do you mean, finally?”
Eames clears his throat then reaches out and pushes Arthur’s hand holding his coffee mug down so it’s back on the counter. Then he lays his hands flat on top.
“I simply think it is good to see Cobb getting back out there. He has been alone for quite a long time even after those lovely years you two spent dealing with his projection wife turning feral.” Arthur huffs. “So it’s good to see him trying to find someone new in his life.”
Arthur glances sidelong at the woman next to him. “Someone new?”
“I’m not new,” Ariadne points out.
Eames waves a hand in the air as if to say ‘not important’ then he picks up Arthur’s mug and takes a sip.
“Of course he’s going to ask our dear girl.” Eames hands Arthur back his mug and pats Ariadne’s arm once. “You’re probably the only woman he knows.”
Ariadne groans and places her hands on her forehead with her elbows propped up on the counter top.
“Dom is too old for Ariadne,” Arthur counters, pointing at the woman with his coffee mug.
“That could be a matter of opinion.”
“Is he too old?” Arthur asks, turning to Ariadne.
She sighs and drops her head onto the counter. “That’s not the point!”
“What is the point?” Arthur snaps, banging his mug down on the marble.
Ariadne jerks her head up once. “Arthur, its Dom, that’s the point!”
“What?”
Eames puts a hand on Arthur’s arm. “Hush, darling. For a man as attractive as you are it’s a wonder you’ve made it this far.”
Arthur gapes. “What does that mean?”
“Ariadne,” Eames touches the top of her head and she looks up. “What did you say to him?”
Ariadne sighs then sits up straight. “Well, it just caught me by surprise. I told him I’d have to think about it.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said it was just dinner, nothing too serious.” Ariadne takes Arthur’s coffee and gulps some down. “Trying to reassure me, I guess?”
“And what did you say?”
“Son of a -” Arthur grabs his coffee back from Ariadne and groans at Eames. “What are you, a fifteen year old girl?”
“I have been.” Eames takes the mug from Arthur and raises his eyebrows. “Twice.”
Eames downs the last of the coffee and puts the mug down on the counter. Arthur glares at Eames and points at the mug.
“I had about one sip of that.”
“So grumpy in the morning,” Ariadne mutters.
Swiping his mug off of the counter, Arthur stands up and walks over to the coffee pot beside the refrigerator. As Arthur pours himself more coffee, Ariadne chews her bottom lip and looks at Eames.
“So, what do I do? I mean, this is Dom. I feel like he… He’s just…”
“Too close?” Eames finishes.
“Yes.” She nods, an expression of mild surprise on her face. “I guess when you work with someone, when you know that much about the levels of their mind…”
“But it’s always that way once you’ve dreamed with someone.” Eames comes around the counter and sits in Arthur’s chair. “There is less mystery.”
“Or it makes more.”
Eames and Ariadne turn to look at Arthur. He leans with his hip against the blue countertop and tilts his head at Eames. Eames just smiles slightly back then turns to look at Ariadne.
“I think you should give it a try, get dinner out of him at least; he’s sure to pay like the occasional gentleman he is.”
Arthur suddenly jerks up by the counter. “You can’t ever tell Dom you talked to us - to me - about this.”
“I’m sure he’s already surmised, love.”
Ariadne laughs and looks away. “He did say ‘ask the boys and get back to me.’”
Eames begins to laugh while Arthur practically drops his mug on the counter, liquid sloshing out, and puts his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is my life…”
Eames snickers more into his hand.
“Okay, done. This is done.” Ariadne stands up, picks up Arthur’s refilled mug, and chugs down half of it with a hiss. “I’m calling Dom, goodbye.”
“Why is it always my coffee with you two?” Arthur snaps at her back.
Ariadne opens the door. “Goodbye!” Then it slams shut.
Eames looks at Arthur. “You are simply no help.”
Arthur glares at Eames then points at his mug. “I gave the coffee.”
Ariadne and Dom go out on a total of two dates, one Ethiopian dinner and one art gallery followed by martinis. They decide, after the food and the laughter and the money spent, the whole thing feels just too weird. They’re practically siblings with their mirrored skills as architects and their time working together on inception.
Plus, Ariadne effectively helped Dom kill his wife for the second time which would be an odd thing to have in any relationship.
-------------
The three of them are in the Notre Dame. Their German mark has a penchant for cathedrals as well as famous places. The most famous cathedral of Paris is perfect to tell one’s friends about. Also, if you’re a cocaine addict with a habit of theft then the crowded, jostling throngs of the Notre Dame are a welcome haven.
Arthur follows their mark quietly at a distance, watching her moves as Eames passes by, partner drug dealer forge in place.
Then without warning the world blinks out for an entire second. Everything is blurry, indistinct, all colors and none and it’s like floating on a blank sheet of paper. Then the scenery returns, architecture crashing down again with the force of an earthquake. Arthur spins in place, completely shocked. The mark shakes her head, looking from side to side but seems to accept she was just imagining things.
Eames, however, isn’t the drug dealer anymore. Arthur sees him suddenly sprinting down the crowded hall toward the front entrance, knocking over chairs as he goes. Projections curse at him as he passes by. He is heading straight for Ariadne and Arthur can see why. She is lying by one dark marble column on the floor curled around herself. Arthur turns and bolts.
“Ariadne?” Eames is kneeling down beside her. “Ariadne? Love, what is it? Ariadne!”
Arthur runs up beside them. “What’s wrong?”
Eames only flashes Arthur a panicked look which makes Arthur take a step back in surprise.
Ariadne groans in pain and uncoils, lying flat. She jerks her head from side to side, eyes scrunched tight. The colors in the room start to fade to a dull gray. A projection touches Arthur’s shoulder.
“Is she -“
“She’s fine!” Arthur snaps.
“Ariadne,” Eames whispers and holds her face still, “talk to us, dear, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“My head…” she groans. “I can’t think straight!” She gasps. “It’s just - it’s all swirling, oh my god!”
Suddenly, she springs up and jumps to her feet, knocking Eames over and barreling past Arthur toward one of the front doors to the right. Arthur yanks Eames up by his arm and chases after her, mark completely forgotten. Ahead of them, Ariadne hits the doors, pulls them open and runs outside. They follow her and find themselves running down the Pont Neuf, water churning like a storm below and projections clinging to the sides of the bridge.
“What the…” Eames starts, staring about in surprise.
“Keep going,” Arthur says, “we have to catch her.”
Ariadne is running and running and she isn’t stopping. Her head turns from side to side and the white clouds suddenly morph and grow, turning perfectly black above them like clouds never are. Rain and hail pelt down on the bridge, falling so fast that stones break off the pillars to sink into the Seine.
“Oh please, stop, stop!” Ariadne shouts and falls onto her knees holding her head.
Arthur and Eames catch up to her on the slippery stone just in time for her to jump up again. Eames tries to grab onto her arm but she twists away and climbs up onto the ledge, hand on a lamppost. All three of them are soaked already.
“Ariadne, stop!” Arthur shouts, climbing up after her. “Let us help you. Tell us what’s wrong!”
Without responding she jumps into the water.
“Has to be something above,” Eames says as he climbs up.
They jump after her. They hit the water and fall through onto iron. They look around and see people with cameras leaning over guard rails, a scenic view of Paris below, no rain.
“The Eiffel Tower,” Arthur says as he stands.
Eames gets up and they both see a flash of a red coat as Ariadne starts to climb the stairs to the second level. There are no people in her way. They run after, twisting up and up, somehow not managing to catch up with her.
“Something is mixing her up,” Arthur shouts back at Eames. “She’s making wild connections, trying to make sense of something.”
“She’s got Paris down.” Eames almost trips but keeps going. “She’s picking the big things, the landmarks we talked about in planning.”
“She’s retracting her steps in the architecture.”
Eames gasps. “It’s the sedative formula!” Arthur stops in surprise but Eames shoves him onward in the back. “Bala said one person who’d used it had side effects.”
“What side effects?” Arthur snaps angrily.
“It was once,” Eames snaps back, “he didn’t tell me!”
“Make it twice.”
Suddenly, they see Ariadne stop a few steps above them, only about half way to the second level. She turns to her right, touches the latticed iron and pushes. A square swings out like a door and she runs through. They reach the opening and jump after her.
They land running on pavement, a sidewalk with shops to their right and the street to their left. The shops are glowing golden and in the street the cars are stopped. In the distance the Arc de Triomphe looms only the stone has turned gray, almost sliver.
“Champs-Élysées, we talked about taking the mark down through the shops.” Eames weaves around fallen café tables, pulling Arthur by the arm to avoid a chair. “High prices, obvious class and status, with her possible connections would’ve been perfect.”
“I know!” Arthur bites back.
Ahead of them by only a few yards, Ariadne suddenly pitches forward and drops onto the pavement, hunched around her knees.
“Grab her!” Arthur shouts.
They catch up before she can move again and Eames takes her by the arms, pulling her up. Her eyes are open looking around wildly as if she can’t actually see correctly. The colors of the dream spike up, sharper and brighter, turning into golds and silvers and bronzes.
“Help me…” she whimpers.
“I’m sorry.” Arthur pulls his gun out of the holster around his ankle and puts it against Ariadne’s head.
He pulls the trigger.
The minute Arthur and Eames wake up they jump out of their chairs and pull Ariadne upright on the bed. She gasps and tires to push them off.
“It’s all right, Ariadne,” Eames says, “you’re awake.”
Ariadne’s hands reach blindly into her pocket, pulling out her pawn. She rolls it over and over in her one hand, other against her head.
“I can’t see straight…” she stares at them, looks around the room, stares at them. “My head is spinning, everything was too bright, the dream felt wrong and I couldn’t connect the…I couldn’t…”
“It was the sedative,” Arthur tells her. “There have been side effects in others.”
She blinks. “I see…”
Suddenly she slides off the edge of the bed and throws up on the carpet. She gasps twice, pushing her hair out of her face and throws up again. Arthur and Eames look at each other. Eames leans down and touches her back. She groans, waving him off. Slowly she stands up still shaking and puts her pawn back in her pocket.
“Get me out of here,” she says, latching onto both their arms, “now.”
The trio leave the hotel, PASIV torn away from their mark’s arm who they leave to wake up confused as she likes. They never contact the client. They do however pay a little visit to Bala’s shop in Dahka, must get their money back. If Bala has a broken jaw and some smashed merchandise after their visit then no one mentions it.
-------------
“Ready to be home?” Eames asks, looking at the woman beside him in the driver’s seat.
“You ready to be home? Two months without Arthur?”
Eames nods at Ariadne and looks out at the passing buildings. The two of them had taken a job with a different extractor while Arthur was busying helping Cobb with his ill father; interesting to think of Arthur in the role of healer instead of the one holding the gun. Then again Arthur had really been going more to make sure Cobb didn’t go crazy, something he had extensive experience with. While he was gone, the two of them had received the job offer. They’d had time, seemed an easy job, so off they went. It was only a week or so for Arthur but their duo job had ended up being longer than expected.
“I’ll be glad to be back to our normal team,” Ariadne says. “I’m not sure I really liked David and Rose.”
Eames snorts. “As an extractor, think David was a bit rough around the edges.”
“And Arthur could run circles around Rose.”
“Why did we do this job again?”
Ariadne turns the car to the right and points a finger at Eames. “It was your fault. ‘Oh Ariadne, it’ll be a quick job, easy work love, simple architecture darling, bit of extra cash sweetheart.’”
“I don’t recall using the word ‘sweetheart.’”
“All because they laid on the sugar sweet compliments about your forging.”
Eames tilts his sunglasses down and looks at her over the edge. “Went well, though.”
“Yes, because the mark was a small fry.”
“You’re just upset because you have an elitist streak now, dear.”
“’Dear,’” Ariadne mocks.
Eames snorts and laughs as Ariadne slides the car up to the curb. She shuts off the engine and looks up at the apartment building.
“Home sweet, Arthur’s home.”
“One of them.” Eames smiles, opens the car door, and steps out. “Coming up to say hello?”
Ariadne looks at the steering wheel then back to Eames with a sly smile. She shakes her head once. “No need to get in the way of that.”
“Of what?”
She laughs. “When Arthur jumps on you, of course.”
“My dear,” Eames crouches to pull his bag out of the backseat then stands up straight again. “Arthur saves most of his jumping for armed projections and occasional dream buildings.”
“I think you might be underestimating how much he’ll have missed you.”
“I think you might be underestimating how much control he has.” Eames hoists the strap of the bag onto his shoulder and adjusts his sunglasses. “And how much he subconsciously enjoys annoying me with his false indifference.”
Ariadne laughs. “Okay, well, when you get knocked over you can tell Arthur I said ‘I told you so.’”
“I’ll tell him you missed him too.”
Ariadne starts the engine again as Eames closes the car door. She waves her hand at him then pulls away from the curb. Eames watches the bumper of her car grow smaller down the strip for a minute until he can’t see the shinning metal any longer. Then he turns and enters the building taking the elevator up to the seventh floor, same gray carpet and nondescript walls. Eames steels himself to control his desire to drop Arthur to the floor the minute he gets inside and walks down the hall.
Eames is in front of the door with his key out, ready to sneak on in, when Arthur opens it. Eames looks up from the empty space where the door knob had just been and smiles at Arthur standing before him in a white shirt and gray vest with trousers to match, no tie. He looks like heaven.
“Hello,” Eames says.
Arthur smiles and steps aside slightly to give Eames room to pass by into the apartment. “Hi.”
As soon as Eames steps inside and Arthur closes the door, Eames finds himself pressed up against said door by Arthur’s body, lips on his and fingers unbuttoning his jacket. Eames drops his bag, sun glasses falling off his head to clatter on the floor and forgets about breathing. Eames catches a moan in his throat and kisses back just as enthusiastically. He keeps his hands on Arthur’s face out of the other man’s way as his fingers fly at dream speeds over Eames’ buttons. It feels like it’s been a year and not just two months and Arthur is oxygen, sunlight, everything.
Eames tries to reach into his pocket, touch his totem, assure himself that Arthur is just crazy, not unreal, but Arthur grabs both his hands, and pins them against the door.
“No,” Arthur kisses him again, bites his lip, “if anyone is dreaming it’s me.”
Eames blinks again and can’t think of anything, nothing catchy or coy or clever, to say.
Arthur lets Eames’ hands go to pull off his jacket, rip through a few shirt buttons and slide his hands against Eames’ skin. He makes a satisfied humming noise and slowly breathes out. His crazed motions begin to slow down and he leans against Eames against the door. Arthur kisses Eames calmly like he’s some French dessert and dances his hands around Eames body, mapping skin. Eames lets his hands settle together at the small of Arthur’s back.
“You missed me,” he says softly between kisses.
Arthur laughs once, a small sound of unsurprised amusement. “Yes, Eames, I did.”
Eames smiles in a shy way which he rarely does around anyone else apart from Arthur. Arthur laughs again.
“You know that since the inception job we haven’t been apart for more than two weeks at a time and inception was three years ago.”
Eames’ eyes widen and he purses his lips. “Ah.” Then he pulls some of his well crafted persona off the floor and cocks his head to the side. “Still, Arthur, dear, you are not usually one to pounce into such physical displays of affection.”
“Only for you.” Arthur pulls a hand away from his skin crusade and thumbs Eames’ neck. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me or maybe this is just me in a long term relationship.”
Eames smiles slowly. “I believe the extent of this proclaimed emotion is making my head spin.”
Arthur scratches his nails once along the base of Eames’ neck. “That’s the idea.”
Eames squeezes Arthur and kisses him. Then he makes a ‘hmmm’ noise into the kiss and pulls back.
“Oh, I am compelled from Ariadne to say: ‘I told you so.’”
“I know.” Arthur pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and holds it up for Eames to see. “She texted just before I opened the door.”
Eames glances at the touch screen: Tell Eames I said ‘I told you so’ when you assault him. Missed you! -A
Eames looks back at Arthur and smiles. “Texting while driving can be dangerous, will have to talk to that one.”
Arthur takes his arm down and pockets his phone again. “Not right now.” Then he pulls Eames sharply away from the door.
-------------
Arthur, Ariadne, and Eames crash down together behind a cubicle wall as bullets rain over them, ruining the carpet and making papers fly everywhere. Arthur curves around the right side of the cube while Eames goes around the left and both fire back at the projections. Ariadne keeps low in the middle and rips open the black executive folder they just took from the wall safe.
“What the hell?” Ariadne snaps, one sheet of paper held in front of her face.
“What?” the men ask without looking.
“It’s just account numbers!”
Eames glances at her and groans. “How many?”
“Um, about two dozen.” A bullet tears through the fabric of the cube wall and barely misses Ariadne’s shoulder.
Eames jumps up for one moment, shoots the nearest projection with the middle shot and ducks back down unscathed.
“It doesn’t even say if they are deposit accounts or ones stolen from. I don’t even know if they are within or outside of the company. It’s just the numbers, nothing identifying.”
Eames snorts. “I do hate insider trading, so boring.”
“The rest must be on level one,” Arthur says. “Here, switch.”
Arthur slips back into the cube and takes the paper from Ariadne as she takes his gun and slides to his vacant post. Eames glances back briefly at Arthur.
“You and your photographic memory.”
Arthur spares Eames a quick smile. “Certainly helps.”
Eames leans out again and shoots two projections in the chest. “Best point man in the business.”
“Another wave!” Ariadne shoots a female projection in the stomach then smacks Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you done? You’re the better shot here!”
Arthur stares at the page again then drops the paper and slides behind Ariadne. “Twenty four, all set.”
“The kick is not for another twelve minutes,” Eames says, “Could we have missed something here?”
“Daniel is long gone with this sort of armed response.” Ariadne checks her watch.
“Bomb threat.” Eames laughs. “How does that work so often?”
“Though he could be trying to back up his files,” Ariadne continues, “to erase the evidence just in case there is an inquiry or something and we could get him there.”
“With this many projections firing on us?” Arthur counters.
“Fine, I did make level one his house for a reason.”
Eames ducks back behind the thin wall and fumbles through his pockets for another clip. Ariadne takes Eames’ gun, yanks another clip and magazine out of her pants then shoves them into Eames gun and hands it back.
“Thank you, dear.” Eames turns back to the edge of the wall. “Arthur, you said the one computer at his house has extra security and -”
Eames finishes his sentence with a shout as he is shot in the chest and drops his gun. Eames knocks against the cubicle across from theirs then crumples to the side onto his back at Ariadne’s feet.
“Damn it!” Ariadne shouts, putting a hand on the blood pooling on Eames’ chest and picks up his gun with her other.
Arthur glances back once and frowns. Eames shakes his head and pushes off Ariadne’s hand.
“I’m done.”
“We need the rest.” Ariadne squeezes Eames’ hand and shoots over the edge of the wall. “Tell Roxanne we have the numbers. We just need the connecting names and dates and company information.”
Eames closes his eyes and whispers, “yes, ma’am.”
Arthur and Ariadne both spare a moment from their shooting to look down at Eames. He is dead. Arthur shakes his head sharply once then looks at Ariadne.
“And you thought a fourth would be good.”
She sighs and looks back at the projections clustered around the far edge of the cubicle rows. “We needed Eames down here for the vice-president. Daniel reports directly to him.”
“You could have been above.”
“I saw your dreaming of this level. It was not good enough.”
“Well, then I could have been above.”
Ariadne makes a frustrated noise. “Arthur, if you’re going to do this every time Eames gets shot in a dream I am going to shoot you first. Plus Roxanne got us all of the entry codes and the references Eames needed to get into Dytan Dynamics. She was necessary.”
Arthur huffs derisively.
A projection suddenly breaks the line and comes charging at their position. Ariadne leans back, grabs the laptop off the desk she and Arthur are crouched around then throws it at the projection. The computer hits the man in the knees sending him falling to the ground where Ariadne shoots him in the head.
She nods back at Arthur. “You’re just upset you had to share your role for this job.”
Arthur laughs once and switches guns. “Maybe.” He stands up, shoots three projections in rapid succession then drops down again. “Or maybe I just prefer us as a trio.”
Ariadne smiles, “me too.”
“We’ve got to move.”
Ariadne and Arthur jump up together and both run down the isles between the cubicles with one row between them. Arthur stops, turns once, and shoots behind him. The projections are giving chase.
“They’re following!” Arthur shouts ahead at Ariadne.
Ariadne comes up from her hunch shooting and jumps through the door out into the hall. A projection shoots after her, shattering one of the four glass windows which make up part of the room’s wall. Ariadne dives out of the way, broken glass catching her face and she makes it down the hall.
“Arthur!” she shouts and presses the button for the elevator.
Arthur comes tearing out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and shoots back through the broken window.
“Why bother to close the door?” Ariadne asks with a laugh.
The elevator dings and opens. Arthur runs and slides into the elevator after Ariadne. She punches the button for the lobby and the door close button. As the metal slides shut they see projections running down the hall with angered looks. Ariadne snorts.
“It’s kind of satisfying to destroy this building.” Arthur glances at her. “The architecture is so ugly and no one likes cubicles.”
They both laugh and suddenly they hear bouncy French sounding music. Ariadne’s brow crinkles and she looks at Arthur.
Je revois la ville en fête et en délire…
“La Foule?”
Arthur shrugs. “I was tired of the other song and La Foule is much peppier.”
“Did you break the other CD?”
“Yes.”
They blink, silver elevator doors clicking out, and they sit up on the kitchen floor of Daniel’s house. Eames, Roxanne, and their mark are nowhere to be seen. Ariadne pulls the tubes out of their arms and stands up as Arthur hides the dream PASIV away in a closet. Just as Ariadne walks to the door it opens. Arthur pulls out his gun but Eames comes through and he drops his arms.
“Have fun?” Eames asks.
Ariadne peeks out the door and sees the hall empty. “Roxanne and Daniel?”
Eames waves a hand to the left. “Roxanne is presenting a very thorough and detailed plan to upgrade the company’s computer security system to him as we speak upstairs in his study.”
“Wasn’t that her back up plan?” Arthur asks.
“Apparently he wasn’t keen on making out.”
“That was not her plan.” Ariadne pulls the door all the way open and walks out quietly.
The men follow her down the hall, a wall with portraits to their left and two closed doors on their right. They can hear people talking somewhere above them. As they turn to the left the hall opens into a large, high-ceilinged antechamber. Arthur takes point at the stairs to the left while Eames and Ariadne head off to the right. Eames drops to his knees in front of the wooden double doors and starts working on the lock.
Suddenly the whole house shakes violently. Three portraits fall to the floor and Ariadne slams against the wall.
“How much time do we have?” Arthur asks.
“We should still have at least ten minutes until the second kick.” Ariadne stands upright again and glances up. “Could it be the train?”
“Better hope not.” Eames bangs the heel of his palm against the door knob, something clearly falls on the inside of the room and the door swings open. “I’d rather not die asleep attached to a PASIV in a train collision.”
“Such optimism,” Arthur mutters as the two go into the office.
Ariadne heads straight to the computer and sits down in front of the monitor, fingers clicking away.
“Code?”
“Th906l#82Jlii00o12.”
Ariadne whistles. “How did you remember that one? Didn’t leave it to Arthur?”
“Roxanne bet me twenty pound I couldn’t do it.”
“How’s your wallet feel?”
“Like it has a few pints in it.”
Ariadne clicks a key with a flourish of her hand and grins. “There, into the folder.”
Eames leans down and sighs. “Oh fabulous, now we have thirty subfolders.”
Suddenly the lights in the room flicker and the computer screen winks off then back on again. Ariadne and Eames both put up their hands reflexively and look down at the keyboard.
“Something is going on up there,” Eames says.
“We’d better hurry.”
Ariadne clicks through folders quickly, excel sheets and documents, lists of names. She flies through five folders, charts of sales projections, quarterly statements.
“Wait!” Eames touches the screen. “Look, password protected there.”
“And we didn’t think the second one was going to happen!” Ariadne clicks on the folder and types in the password she memorized just in case.
The folder opens and there are two documents inside, one with a list of names beside numbers and an excel sheet with what appears to be bank transactions. Eames jogs out of the room and is replaced by Arthur a moment later.
“Lovely.” Arthur leans over Ariadne and eyes the screen. “Twenty accounts to steal from and four to deposit. Success.”
“Nice to know he likes variety.”
Abruptly the house shakes again and Arthur jerks like something has pulled him.
“Arthur?” Ariadne stands up.
“Something is -” Arthur starts then he falls over, eyes vacant.
“Eames!” Ariadne shouts, no thought to the mark upstairs who could hear. “Eames, Arthur is gone!”
Eames runs in and they both look back to the floor, no one is there.
Eames stares at Ariadne. “Where did he go?”
“He just jerked and then fell. He must have been pulled out.”
They hear shouting upstairs. Daniel is yelling something about ‘ambulance’ and ‘don’t know what happened.’
“Roxanne too?”
Ariadne looks at her watch. No music is playing. The house shakes again and books fall off the shelves around them. The shaking does not stop this time and the two extractors run out of the office. They slide to a stop in the entryway to see Daniel standing at the top of the stairs.
“Who are…”
Eames pulls his gun but before any of them can say more Ariadne’s head wrenches to the side and she falls to her knees like she’s been slapped.
“Fuck - they’re trying to -” Ariadne collapses to the floor.
Eames looks back up at Daniel who is staring at him in horror. Suddenly a shower of water cascades down from the chandelier drenching him and Eames blinks away the drips of water to a train.
Ariadne suddenly slams into Eames lap and they both jump up again in the small train cabin. Daniel is lying on his side now on the seat where he used to be sitting upright, still asleep. Roxanne sits to his left with a bullet wound in her chest and their technician lies in a heap on the floor next to another unidentified man. All of this is a backdrop to Arthur in the middle struggling with a man in a blue suit.
Ariadne grabs the man’s arm and tries to pull him off of Arthur but he gets in a good shot with his elbow, smashing Ariadne in the nose. She flies back and slams into the cabin doors with a yelp. Arthur spins once and throws the man off himself, narrowly missing Eames. Eames pulls the gun from the holster in his coat and pistol whips the man across the face. He shakes his head and tries to get up again but falls.
“Give it up,” Arthur snaps.
However, the man heaves himself up again, hitting away Eames’ gun and reaching into his jacket. Arthur quickly grabs his gun off the floor, silencer already in place, and shoots. The man falls back, blood seeping from his mouth. Arthur and Eames turn and look at the door waiting to see if anyone comes to investigate the noise.
“I think my nose is broken,” Ariadne says weakly from the floor.
“What the hell is all this?” Eames hisses, trying to flick water from his hair.
“They work for Daniel I think.” Arthur points at both bodies. “Private contractors.”
“We can’t leave it like this!”
“Yes, we can.” Ariadne stands up with a hand on her nose. “Our tech boy had a criminal record, right, and there is Roxanne. All we need to do is move Daniel to his own cabin.”
The men stare at her in confusion.
When the train arrives in Chicago the local journalists are very interested to learn about a dream extraction gone wrong on the train during transit from St. Louis. An amateur extractor and her young technician attempted to gain classified client information from two security contractors. Happily for the front page printers, all four ended up dead.
“Now we need a new PASIV.” Arthur crumples up the paper and throws it in a garbage can.
“You have two more, Arthur,” Ariadne points out.
Eames hails a cab. “He doesn’t like to get his personal ones dirty.”
Arthur points at Ariadne. “You can buy it.”
“Just suck it up, Arthur,” Ariadne says as they climb into the cab.
-------------
Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur sit together in a large hotel room, tan chairs and tan carpet. The room is in fact a suite with a round table and chairs in the middle, desk by the wall, and two chairs on either side of a table under the window. The bed and bath have their own separate room to the right.
Arthur sits still as always to the right of the window while Ariadne forgoes her sitting to jump up and pace, restlessly checking her watch. Eames sits on the other side of the windows, his feet up on another chair, with “The Stranger” held in front of his face.
Suddenly Arthur’s phone rings. Ariadne stops pacing to look at Arthur as he stands.
“Yes?”
Eames glances over the edge of his book.
“Yes, 312.” Arthur clicks a button on his phone and drops his hand.
Ariadne tilts her head and Arthur nods back at her. Eames’ eyes slide back down to his book.
“They’re late,” Ariadne says, crossing her arms.
“Ten minutes.” Eames looks up again. “Mustn’t be so impatient.”
Ariadne just ‘humphs’ back at him and looks at her watch again. “Eleven.”
Eames snorts.
Arthur sits down again and raps his knuckles on the table. “Enough.”
A minute later they hear a soft knock at the door. Ariadne strides over to the door, checks the peep hole, and opens the door a few inches.
“Mr. Aznar?”
He nods and Ariadne steps back pulling the door open with her. Aznar and a younger man with a black briefcase in his hand walk in. Ariadne quickly closes the door behind them. Arthur stands up and extends his hand.
“Mr. Aznar, I’m Arthur,” he inclines his head behind the two men, “this is Ariadne.” He turns his head back and Eames closes his book. “And Eames.”
Aznar motions to the other man with him. “My secretary, Pérez.”
Arthur indicates the table and Arthur, Ariadne, and Aznar sit down. Eames stands up to hover behind Arthur and Pérez stays standing behind his boss.
“So,” Arthur begins, “you have information for us about the mark?”
Pérez opens the briefcase and hands a blue folder to Arthur. Arthur flips it open on the table. He pulls the first photograph out of the folder and lays it on the table above the folder. Ariadne and Eames’ eyes both switch to the photo from Arthur’s hands then back. Arthur turns the page and Eames puts his finger down on top, stopping Arthur from turning. He pulls out two sheets, photos attached. Arthur turns the page again and Ariadne reaches out to pull a page away. The three read over their separate pages silently for a moment then they all look up as if on cue.
“Political then,” Arthur says.
“Looking to make or break a career?” Eames asks.
“I will need information on her home residence as well as work,” Ariadne says.
Arthur closes the folder. “Any information you have on her that is not in here we need.”
Eames holds up both sheets. “Any access to these two, double affairs?”
Ariadne slides her paper back to Arthur. “And any other places she frequents.”
Aznar stares at them blinking at the flurry of words. He clears his throat then sits up straight.
“Yes, political.” He looks at Arthur; “And break it.” He looks at Eames then back to Arthur. “We want to know any illicit activity, anything illegal she has been doing as we suspect.”
Arthur opens the folder again. “Anything more specific than that?”
“We suspect she has been funneling government money away from certain programs into her own pet projects as well as her own bank account.”
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good thief?” Ariadne mutters.
Eames lightly kicks her chair.
“Though,” Aznar continues, “if you were to find anything beyond that we would not be opposed to learning about it as well.”
Arthur smiles. “I see.”
Arthur snaps the folder closed then he and Ariadne stand up. Arthur holds out his hand. Aznar stands as well and they shake. Ariadne walks over to the door and opens it.
“Please send us any further information and we will contact you about payment,” Arthur says as they walk out.
Aznar nods once and then the two men are gone. Ariadne closes the door then leans back against it. She stares at the two men then jumps up, twirling around once.
“Spain, yes!” She claps her hands. “Oh, it’s so gorgeous there. Maybe I can build a castle! Has she ever been in one? Does she live in one? Check that. Oh, I can’t wait!”
“It’s not vacation,” Eames points out.
Ariadne swipes the file off the table. “I can multitask.”
Eames walks back over to his chair and picks up his book. “Who doesn’t enjoy destroying corrupt government officials and taking in the sights at the same time?”
“Stay on task,” Arthur says, pointing at Ariadne. “Not like Vancouver.”
Ariadne sighs heavily. “Oh my god, I mess up one time.”
“I distinctly recall seeing a clock tower looking a bit too much like Big Ben,” Eames says.
Ariadne glares at him and lightly smacks his shoulder with the folder. Arthur snatches the folder out of Ariadne’s hand.
Eames chuckles and puts his book on the table. “Still,” He takes Arthur’s hand and spins him around once. “Can work on our salsa dancing.
Arthur pulls his hand away. “No way in hell.”
Ariadne takes Eames’ hand instead and they tango over to the door. Eames dips her and she grabs the door handle, pushing down and pulling it open as Eames pulls her up. They flip around into the space of the doorframe and strike an ending pose, each with one leg splayed back and one hand decoratively up in the air. They look back at Arthur.
“Choreographed?”
“Don’t be jealous, Arthur,” Ariadne says then stands up straight, the door slipping closed again.
“Oh no, my dear.” Eames straightens his jacket. “He should be because of your marvelous dancing.”
Arthur drops the folder then strides over, pulls Eames into his arms and begins dancing them around the room. Arthur spins Eames, hugs him close, cha-chas once, and pulls him back. He turns Eames to the left, dancing them around the table. Then he slows them into a languid back and forth and a spin and back again. They turn around toward the door, two more cha-chas, and end with Arthur dipping Eames down effortlessly.
“Is there a song playing in your head?” Ariadne asks.
“Yes,” Arthur and Eames answer together.
Arthur kisses Eames hard and pulls him back up, letting go. Arthur walks back and picks the folder up off the floor and Eames’ book from the table. He clears his throat as Eames grins at him. Ariadne sighs and opens the door.
“Come on, boys,” She smiles at them, “Spain awaits.”
Eames laughs and follows, Arthur bringing up the rear and closing the door.
“Indeed it does,” Arthur says.
The three smile in time and walk down the hall. Another day, another job, not in jail, and still at the top: the architect, the forger and the point man.