The Ghost Network, 6/13. A/A. NC-17
Title: The Ghost Network
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt: Serial killer or Assassin Arthur, victim or FBI agent Ariadne, and Stockholm Syndrome. It's an AU fic, folks, but I tried to keep them as IC as possible! Also written for the "wild card" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Someone has been killing people involved in sleep labs. As part of the Sleep Crimes Unit of the FBI, Ariadne has to help track down the Dream Killer. Things go very wrong very fast, and she's exactly in the last place she wants to be.
Prior chapters:
One - Entering The Dream
Two - Building The Maze
Three - Going Under
Four - A Different Point Of View
Five - A Hole In You And Me
Oh, hi! You know that smut I mentioned would happen eventually? It shows up here...
The sky was a beautiful shade of violet as the sun went down, and the park was deserted. "Is this where it happened?" Ariadne asked Arthur, sitting on a swing. He nodded, leaning against the swing support. There were slides and a small jungle gym nearby, and one of those spinning things Ariadne couldn't remember the name to. She had hated them as a kid; the vertigo had reminded her too much of falling under somnacin. "What was her name?"
"Gabrielle," Arthur murmured, and Ariadne could see a toddler start to run across the park. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with bright pink and blue flowers on it, her brown hair tied up in pigtails. She was chased by a boy older than she was, with dark hair, worn sneakers and scabs on his knees. "That's me," he said unnecessarily.
Ariadne watched them chase each other around the empty park. "She's beautiful." She turned to look at him. "You were so good with her."
"She was my responsibility. I was the older brother. I was supposed to take care of her."
Do you feel that way about me now? Ariadne almost asked. But feelings were tangled, knotty things, and she didn't want to open a can of worms she couldn't close.
"My parents divorced a year later. They couldn't handle it, not knowing what happened. Thousands of kids go missing every year. She was just another statistic to the police, just another lost kid with no evidence and no motive, no ransom note. It might have been easier to have a note, to think it was their money that was the reason she was taken." Arthur shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and looked at his younger self chase his sister around the park. "But after what I told everyone, they knew that money wasn't the reason."
"What happened after?" Ariadne asked, eyes locked to the children chasing each other. They were so innocent, and it had been so long ago.
"Life happened," Arthur answered simply. He shrugged when Ariadne turned to look at him. "What could they say? They didn't understand what happened to me, couldn't understand the nightmares or the startles or why I started wetting the bed when it stormed outside. They couldn't look at each other, couldn't talk to each other. If they couldn't get a grip on themselves, how were they supposed to help me?" He looked over at the children and sighed deeply. They winked out of existence. "Having money doesn't mean you know what to do with it. They weren't prepared for disaster."
"They didn't send you to a sleep lab?"
He laughed bitterly, and the park shifted to a waiting room. Ariadne was in a white, sterile environment. It was almost too bright after the park, and she blinked rapidly. "Sure they did," Arthur said, sweeping his arms out to take in the waiting area. "It was just as bad as the warehouse he took us to."
Nurses in white scrubs and orthotic shoes walked around, clipboards in hand. They greeted a couple that suddenly appeared, and took them to the back. When the door separating the waiting area from the exam rooms was opened, Ariadne could hear the faint sound of screaming. She turned to look at Arthur, rising to her feet. "Arthur..."
"Yeah, that's me. They couldn't understand how it all went so wrong." He reached out to take Ariadne's hand, and she unthinkingly grasped his hand tightly. "They blamed each other and it fell apart. Your parents didn't do that." Ariadne shook her head silently. Her parents had nearly gone bankrupt to get her the sessions she needed, but they had done it and made sure that Ariadne was okay. "You were the lucky one."
The waiting area faded until they were in an open field. "Where are we now?" Ariadne asked, her head cocked to the side.
"This is the place I used to dream about, before the nightmares came." He swept his free arm out and around them. "Go on. Do your thing."
"What?"
"Show me what you can do. Go nuts." Arthur grinned at her, his eyes lighting up. "Build something great."
She wanted to protest, that this wasn't what she was here for. But she could see the younger version of Arthur and Gabrielle in her mind's eye, could hear their laughter in the park. That child was long gone now, lost inside a monster's PASIV and lust.
The world shifted, and they were in Paris. She had done a semester abroad in college, and she was now borrowing her architecture heavily from her time in the Quartier Latin. Arthur seemed delighted, and laughed as she started playing around with the streets and buildings. They shot impossibly high into the air, and a street curved up to meet it. One building had a fire escape that went nowhere, and passersby were able to walk above them on the curved street.
Arthur pulled her close by her waist, laughing. It was almost like an impromptu waltz, and Ariadne let him whirl her around in circles. "Take me in," he whispered as he spun her. "Go in further, show me what you can really do."
She wanted to protest that there was nothing else, that this was the only level they needed to go into. But his hands slid low along her back, pulling her flush against him, and Ariadne felt almost as if she was drowning in his gaze. She opened her mouth and found that they were falling, air rushing upward all around them. She curled inward, grasping hold of Arthur and tucking her face against his chest to protect her eyes from the whistling wind. His arms tightened around her, holding her close. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear as he said "I'll protect you, Ariadne. I'll always keep you safe."
They fetched up outside a castle, a forest nearby. There was a single tower in the castle, a white sheet hanging outside of the window. It seemed almost as if someone was dangling from it, but it was hard to tell at that distance.
"We should save her," Arthur told Ariadne, and she could see that the figure was indeed a woman. Her legs were flailing inside of her dress, an exquisite ball gown. She was hanging on for dear life, afraid she was going to lose herself. "We can be her knights in shining armor."
They were astride horses, lances in hand and gleaming next to their dingy armor. Ariadne almost wanted to protest that she wasn't a knight, but she stopped herself. She was dreaming, and she was an FBI agent in real life. She could translate the same skills to the dream world, and a lance was simply a really long baton. Other knights on horseback appeared at the base of the castle. "Are those your projections?" she asked, looking over at Arthur.
"How do you know they aren't yours?" he countered, amused.
"This isn't my dream," Ariadne contested.
"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, voice arch in challenge.
Ariadne opened her mouth to answer, but the knights across the field started to bellow a challenge. She sighed instead and shook her head. "Let's go save the princess."
Using the lance was easier than Ariadne had thought it would be. When the knights were thrown from their horses, they tried to take up swords to go after Ariadne and Arthur. Ignoring the screams from above, Ariadne seized a sword and began to fight with one of the knights attacking her. She had never used one before, but this was a dream. She could do anything in it, and she found herself moving like actors in movies did. She shifted the ground beneath their feet. Arthur was able to move quickly, but the dream knights didn't know what was happening and stumbled. Ariadne stabbed one in the chest, and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Arthur did the same for the two that he was battling, then looked up as the screaming seemed to grow louder. "Look up!"
Ariadne looked up and caught the falling princess in her arms. The princess was petite, swathed in silk and satin and lace, wearing Ariadne's sixteen year old face. Startled, Ariadne nearly dropped her. She looked up at Arthur, who was amused and no longer wearing the armor. "You were beautiful back then."
Ariadne wasn't wearing armor herself anymore. She couldn't feel its weight, and even the weight of the princess was ghostly. She turned back to the girl in her arms and found that the princess' figure was small and almost like a doll. The princess mouthed "Thank you," but her voice was so soft and hard to hear that it almost didn't exist. Ariadne was wearing the princess' dress, the train extending behind her. "Arthur," she began, brows knit in confusion. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. It's all you," he said with a shrug, extending his arm for her to take. He was dressed as a nobleman to match her princess garb.
She was about to protest that she couldn't take his arm, but the doll in her arms was gone. Reluctantly she took his arm, and he spun her about in a circle so that their bodies crashed into each other. His hands were heavy about her waist, his gaze intense on hers. "I'm not a princess in a tower," she protested.
"You're my princess," Arthur murmured, lips curled into a soft smile. He ran one hand along her spine, and the dress seemed to dissolve. Her front was covered, but now the back of the dress and the train were gone. "You're beautiful, Ariadne."
She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he kissed her. It was hot and open, his tongue in her mouth and his hand along the bare skin of her back. The other hand was fisted in the skirt of the dress, pulling and lifting the fabric. Ariadne could feel a bolt of pure desire shoot through her, pooling between her legs. Gasping, she pushed him back and covered her mouth with her hands. She shook her head desperately as he flew backward, fetching up against a tree.
Arthur approached slowly, taking in her agitated state and the tears in her eyes. "You don't want to feel this, but you do," he murmured. "We're connected."
"You kidnapped me," Ariadne gasped, leveling a finger at him. "You did this to me. I was fine before. You ruined everything!"
He was suddenly in front of her and grasped her wrists. She was pressed up against the wall of the castle, rough stone biting into the skin of her back. "I didn't ruin your life, Ariadne. I opened your eyes to what was going on. That's what this is about, isn't it? You don't want to see. You don't want to understand. You want to think this is something I made up, that I'm some kind of ruthless killer that will do nothing but hurt you."
"Aren't you?" she countered.
"I do what I have to, same as you," Arthur told her evenly. "This isn't my dream, Ariadne, it's yours. You're the dreamer. I'm in your dream. You're the one with the princess locked in the tower that needs to be saved." He let go of one wrist to caress her face. "You locked her away, Ariadne. You kept her safe, but you kept her shut up from the world. You're afraid of what will happen if she is set free."
"No one will ever hurt her again," Ariadne answered, though she didn't understand what she said a moment later.
"No, they won't," Arthur agreed, nodding. He grasped her face in both hands. "Let me help you, Ariadne. I want to protect her, too. I want to be a part of her life."
"I don't know how," she whispered.
"Let me help you," Arthur murmured, leaning in to kiss her. "Ariadne, let me in."
She responded to his kiss, melting beneath the touch of his lips to hers. Arthur's hands were comforting, and she grasped his arms for balance. His hands moved down to caress her neck, and Ariadne caught hold of his shirt. He was dressed in a button down shirt now, with carefully pressed slacks and wingtip shoes, his hair slicked back. The princess dress had changed into her dove gray skirt suit and maroon blouse. His kiss was slow and methodical, tongue between her lips as his hands slid beneath the edge of her suit jacket and over the sateen blouse to slide around her waist. He kissed her, tongue moving to stroke hers rhythmically. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, feeling herself get lost in the sensation of it, drowning in the scent of him. He broke the kiss for air, still feeling the presence of her lips against his. He kept his eyes on her face, watching her lips part as she gasped for air. Her face said it all, that she wanted him inside her, that she couldn't believe this was really happening.
Gravity shifted, and she was on her back on a bed, Arthur supporting his weight on either side of her. They were in a generic hotel room, the sheets soft beneath her. "I love your hair," Arthur murmured, brushing his fingers across it, pulling out the pins and letting it tumble from her updo. He combed his fingers through her dark hair, watching it as it slipped through his fingers. He smiled gently at her. "I want to do things the right way with you, Ariadne," he said softly. "I want this to be perfect."
"It will be," Ariadne murmured, her hand resting against his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm, and the buttons slid easily through the holes.
Once she got his shirt unbuttoned, she slid her hands against the skin of his chest and pulled him down on top of her. Their mouths met again, devouring each other hungrily. It was like kissing fire, or touching pure electricity. Something was happening between them, something odd and strange and almost frightening. Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue slid in to touch hers. The jolt between them made them both gasp. "More," Ariadne whimpered against his mouth, spreading her legs wide. Her skirt rode up her hips, and Arthur traced one stockinged thigh with his fingertips. "God, I need more."
Pulling his shirt from his waistband, Ariadne slid her hands along his back. Arthur groaned; the contact of her hands against his skin was utterly electric. He pushed thighs further apart, lifting the skirt of her suit. Frustrated with the stockings, he tugged and pulled at them until they shredded and Ariadne laughed. He knelt between her legs, and she helped to peel the pantyhose away from the skin. Arthur touched the bared skin of her thighs, fingertips ghosting over the insides of her thighs. "Arthur," she whined. "C'mon, just touch me already."
Arthur grinned at her, shrugging out of the shirt. Ariadne took off the suit jacket, flinging it off into a corner of the room. She smiled shyly at him, sitting on the bed with her skirt hiked up above her waist and her hair all tousled. Arthur gently pushed her back down onto the bed and moved down the length of her body. She whimpered when he pressed his mouth to her center, when he started tracing her folds with his lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair, back arching up as she gasped for breath. She spread her legs wide to give him better access, and she tasted like honey on his tongue. Arthur traced her folds with his fingertips and then slipped one inside. She made a keening sound, high and needy. He moved slowly and deliberately according to the sounds she made, and it wasn't long until she fell apart in his hands. He kept his tongue on her clit, guiding her down from the high before he withdrew and licked his lips. "Arthur," she whimpered, reaching for him.
She made a soft sigh of contentment when he slid his fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out roughly. Ariadne writhed beneath him, legs twitching restlessly. He touched his tongue to the seam of her mouth, then touched her tongue when she parted her lips. She moaned into his mouth as her body clenched down hard on his fingers, her hands pulling at the sheets. He brushed his thumb across her clit, making her gasp in pleasure. He was half hard already, and she was hardly even touching him. Ariadne came again, tight and slick around his fingers, head thrown back. She grasped his waist and fumbled with the belt and button on his slacks. Arthur got rid of them quickly, then moved to kneel between her spread legs. "Ariadne," he rasped, hands sliding along her thighs. He wanted this so much he was trembling.
"Arthur," she moaned, reaching up to grasp his hips. "Now, I need you inside me now..."
He thrust into her wet heat, and she muffled a soft keening noise by kissing his mouth. It was a rough kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth possessively as she held him close. Arthur didn't care about that. The sensation of her was overwhelming, as if he was drowning in her. And when he opened his eyes, he could see her rapt expression looking up at his stunned one. Mine, he thought incoherently, mouth falling open as he struggled for breath.She's all mine.
He moved inside of her with deep strokes, and she raked her nails across his back. She was wet and slippery, and Arthur reveled in the feel of her. She was perfect, better than he had imagined, and all the struggles up to this point had been worth it. She tightened around him, head thrown back as she gasped and moaned. He grit his teeth to try to draw it out, but he was coming inside of her with a strangled groan. Arthur thumbed her clit hard, and Ariadne came with a cry, fingernails digging into his buttocks hard.
Arthur curled up around her, his face pressed against the side of hers. Her hair was caught beneath him, and he slipped his hand down across her bared stomach. She was still wearing her blouse and skirt, both rucked up and wrinkled beyond repair. After a moment he tugged them off of her body, until she lay bare in front of him. Ariadne watched him look at her, his hand sliding across her stomach in slow circles. He shifted and propped himself up on one elbow. Watching her expression, he let his fingers wander lower down, before sliding between her legs again. She looked at him, startled, and Arthur grinned unrepentantly before bending down to take a nipple between his lips.
"Arthur," Ariadne gasped, sliding a hand through his hair. She didn't know whether to tug his mouth away or urge him to take more in. "What are you...? You just," she gasped, before arching into his touch. "Oh, god, don't stop."
"You're a gift to be savored," he said as he moved from one breast to the other. His lips hovered over her skin, and he looked up at her dazed expression. "Got a problem with that?"
"N-no," she gasped as his fingers slid deeply inside her, his thumb at her over-sensitized clit. "Oh, there," she moaned. She let out a choked moan as his lips closed over her breast and he sucked gently, fingers moving and curling inside her. Ariadne slid her hands along his back and shoulders, feeling the play of muscle beneath skin, the faint sheen of sweat there. Arthur curled his fingers upward, hitting a particular spot that had Ariadne's hips jerking in his hands as she cried out. Arthur kept going at a punishing pace until she clenched down hard around his fingers and came with a keening sound.
She moaned softly as she lay limply against the tangled sheets, eyes tracking his movement as he continued working her body with his fingers and mouth. She reached down along his back as far as she could reach, nails scraping along the skin. "Keep doing that," she whimpered, lips parted as she tried to draw in breath. "Arthur..."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin, pushing his fingers harder inside of her. She cried out and canted her hips, legs shifting restlessly across the sheets. He shifted position, kneeling beside her, and he hissed when she grasped his length and started to stroke him.
He withdrew his fingers when she came again, and moved her so that she was on all fours on the bed. He layered kisses along her spine, running his slicked fingers across her skin. Ariadne's breath was shallow, the scent of her passion overwhelming. "I love you," he whispered against the skin of her neck. She turned her head to look at him in surprise. "I love you," he repeated, stroking her back. "More than I ever thought possible."
"Arthur," she whispered, not sure what to say.
He pressed his fingers against her lips. "It's okay. Don't say anything. You don't have to. It doesn't matter," he said with a crooked smile and a shake of his head. "It's all right if you don't love me back. Maybe you will one day."
"But..."
He moved behind her, then slid inside her slicked passage. She let out a contented sigh at the feel of him inside of her, and he began to thrust into her with long, sure strokes. Arthur kept hold of her hips as he rocked against her, a hum deep within his throat. He let his eyes fall closed, reveling in the feel of her. I love you rang like an echo between them, something he wasn't afraid to say but she was afraid to hear.
She came, clenching down around him tightly. The sheets were caught up in her fists, and her face was pressed down into the bed to muffle her cries. Arthur let go of her hips, and came down to his side on the bed. "Get on top of me," he murmured, pulling at her hips to add to the suggestion. "I want to watch you come."
Limbs loose and like jelly, Ariadne climbed on top of Arthur, her hands sliding across his chest. She guided him into her, sighing as she sank down over him. She moved slowly at first, her breath catching in her throat at the expression on his face. Throwing her head back, Ariadne let her eyes slide shut. Arthur's hand slid over her stomach, then one moved up to catch a breast between his fingers. He rolled the nipple gently, then tugged sharply at her gasp of pleasure. She undulated over him, hands sliding further to curl around his shoulders.
"Oh, god," Ariadne moaned, eyes falling open. The expression on her face was one of wonder and pleasure, and Arthur cupped her cheek in one hand. "This feels... You feel so good," she gasped, her hand tightening into his shoulder.
"Come for me," Arthur whispered, pulling at her nipple. He slid the hand at her face down to her neck, to the curve where it met her shoulder. "I need to see you." She was tight around him, growing tighter still. Even as desensitized as he was from coming once already, he could tell that he was close to coming again.
He would never be able to get enough of her. He would never be able to let her go.
Ariadne whimpered as she ground harder against him, rocking faster. Arthur slid his second hand to her other breast, thumbing her peaked nipples. She cried out, back arched and head thrown back, eyes shut as she convulsed on top of him. Her entire body clenched tight and hard, and she rode out her orgasm, milking him. Arthur pulled at her hips as he thrust up against her, spilling deep inside her again.
Ariadne fell on top of him, breath coming in soft pants. Her face was in the crook of his neck, and he curled his arms around her back to cradle her.
It felt right. It felt as if this had always been meant to happen, as if her body had been molded specifically to fit his. Everything in her life had led her on the path to him, making sure that they would meet, that this would happen.
It was frightening how content she felt, how utterly perfect it was to feel his rapid heart thudding in his chest beneath hers. They fit, and she was comfortable in a way she often wasn't with other people.
But how had her life come to this?
"How twisted am I?" she whispered, hands curling into loose fists on either side of him. The sheets were tangled up beneath them, and she pulled at him in a fit of pique. She raised herself up to her elbows to look down at him, breath shallow in her chest. "I'm some kind of twisted freak now, aren't I?"
"Only as twisted as you let yourself believe you are. You're stronger than what happened to you, Ariadne. One day, we'll be able to set it all right again."
He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her lips gently, reverently. He obviously believed what he was telling her. He cared about her, for her. He wanted the world at her feet, wanted everything to be just right for her.
And he killed ruthlessly, mercilessly, sliding through laws and security codes like a ghost. He didn't exist, didn't leave a trail. There was a stillness inside of him, a frightening emptiness that Ariadne would never be able to touch. He was hollow inside, carved out and left for dead by a nameless and faceless monster that had him dreaming of darkness for days that felt like years on end. Arthur was everything she had hoped never to be, everything she had worked so hard to fight. He was her very antithesis.
Arthur also was the one that understood her, cherishing every last part of her soul. Her history didn't frighten him away and didn't excite him with all the ways he could use it. It was simply another thing that had happened to her, another facet of her past that led up to the person that she was at the moment.
"I don't know if I can," Ariadne whispered, tracing the curve of his jaw with a fingertip.
He ran his hands along her back, feeling the bumps of her spine beneath his fingers. "Yes, you can. You can do whatever you set your mind to do. You're more than what they would make you out to be. I know this."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You take your pain and use it. You make it work for you. It's not the other way around. It doesn't consume you, it doesn't define you." She nodded, accepting that. "Not everyone can do that. For the longest time, I couldn't."
Ariadne could hear the pain in his quiet voice and could only guess at how horrible it had been for him. "This gives you purpose," she guessed.
"This is how I transform it. This is how I prevent it from ever happening again."
She laid back down on his chest, hearing his heart slow a bit. "I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered softly. She should try to turn him in. She should try to get him to stop. She should contact the FBI and let them know what was going on.
She should. But she didn't think she could.
"Stop thinking so hard," Arthur said, threading his fingers through her hair. "Just be with me for a while. Let go and let me help you."
Ariadne buried her face in the crook of his neck and held on tightly. "I don't know..."
"I do," he said softly, cradling her in his arms. "I'll help you."
She sobbed, her tears surely burning his skin. She was torn in too many different directions, for once in her life unable to pick the path she had to take.
When they finally woke from the dream, only an hour later in real time, Ariadne sat up slowly and took in Arthur's face. She reached out to him, the IV line still in her arm. "Arthur," she whispered, catching his hand in hers.
"Ariadne," he answered, holding on tightly.
She pulled him closer and their lips met. Like in the dream, it felt like static. Her insides were molten, her knees rubbery. Not even bothering to pull the lines, she opened the fly of his pants and unzipped him. She slid a hand inside as he yanked the lines and took off his shirt. Without a word, she ran her hands down his chest then around to trace the curve of his rear. The kiss deepened, and Arthur grasped the back of her neck with one hand, fingers tangling in her dark hair. His other worked at the buttons of her blouse and tried to unhook the clasp of her trousers. Impatiently, she released him long enough to kick out of her clothes.
Tumbling to the floor, it was a tangled mess of lips and teeth and tongue and roaming hands, exploring each other. They knew what it had been like in the dream, and now everything was so vivid. Arthur parted her legs and stroked her damp flesh before sliding inside of her. She moaned and clutched at him, urging him to go faster and harder. Arthur pounded into her, hips working like a piston, and he came with a strangled groan. Ariadne was close, so he grit his teeth and kept going, pushing into her until she clamped tight around him and let out a soft cry.
They lay there on the floor, limbs entwined, breathing heavily in the dim room. For a fleeting moment, Ariadne had Oh god, what now? flitting through her mind. Arthur was warm and snuggled close to her, nuzzling her neck.
It wasn't a dream. This felt just as right and perfect as it had in the dreamscape, but this was real.
"I'll stay with you," she murmured, tangling her fingers in his hair as she held him close. She let her eyes slide shut, but she had already seen his ecstatic smile.
"I love you so much," he whispered next to her ear.
"I know," she returned, burying her face against his. She breathed in deeply, her feelings a shredded mess inside her chest.
Her lips stretched into a smile against his cheek. "I love you, too."
The worst part of it was, she meant it.
***
***
To chapter 7!
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt: Serial killer or Assassin Arthur, victim or FBI agent Ariadne, and Stockholm Syndrome. It's an AU fic, folks, but I tried to keep them as IC as possible! Also written for the "wild card" box on my
hc_bingo card.
Summary: Someone has been killing people involved in sleep labs. As part of the Sleep Crimes Unit of the FBI, Ariadne has to help track down the Dream Killer. Things go very wrong very fast, and she's exactly in the last place she wants to be.
Prior chapters:
One - Entering The Dream
Two - Building The Maze
Three - Going Under
Four - A Different Point Of View
Five - A Hole In You And Me
Oh, hi! You know that smut I mentioned would happen eventually? It shows up here...
The sky was a beautiful shade of violet as the sun went down, and the park was deserted. "Is this where it happened?" Ariadne asked Arthur, sitting on a swing. He nodded, leaning against the swing support. There were slides and a small jungle gym nearby, and one of those spinning things Ariadne couldn't remember the name to. She had hated them as a kid; the vertigo had reminded her too much of falling under somnacin. "What was her name?"
"Gabrielle," Arthur murmured, and Ariadne could see a toddler start to run across the park. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with bright pink and blue flowers on it, her brown hair tied up in pigtails. She was chased by a boy older than she was, with dark hair, worn sneakers and scabs on his knees. "That's me," he said unnecessarily.
Ariadne watched them chase each other around the empty park. "She's beautiful." She turned to look at him. "You were so good with her."
"She was my responsibility. I was the older brother. I was supposed to take care of her."
Do you feel that way about me now? Ariadne almost asked. But feelings were tangled, knotty things, and she didn't want to open a can of worms she couldn't close.
"My parents divorced a year later. They couldn't handle it, not knowing what happened. Thousands of kids go missing every year. She was just another statistic to the police, just another lost kid with no evidence and no motive, no ransom note. It might have been easier to have a note, to think it was their money that was the reason she was taken." Arthur shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and looked at his younger self chase his sister around the park. "But after what I told everyone, they knew that money wasn't the reason."
"What happened after?" Ariadne asked, eyes locked to the children chasing each other. They were so innocent, and it had been so long ago.
"Life happened," Arthur answered simply. He shrugged when Ariadne turned to look at him. "What could they say? They didn't understand what happened to me, couldn't understand the nightmares or the startles or why I started wetting the bed when it stormed outside. They couldn't look at each other, couldn't talk to each other. If they couldn't get a grip on themselves, how were they supposed to help me?" He looked over at the children and sighed deeply. They winked out of existence. "Having money doesn't mean you know what to do with it. They weren't prepared for disaster."
"They didn't send you to a sleep lab?"
He laughed bitterly, and the park shifted to a waiting room. Ariadne was in a white, sterile environment. It was almost too bright after the park, and she blinked rapidly. "Sure they did," Arthur said, sweeping his arms out to take in the waiting area. "It was just as bad as the warehouse he took us to."
Nurses in white scrubs and orthotic shoes walked around, clipboards in hand. They greeted a couple that suddenly appeared, and took them to the back. When the door separating the waiting area from the exam rooms was opened, Ariadne could hear the faint sound of screaming. She turned to look at Arthur, rising to her feet. "Arthur..."
"Yeah, that's me. They couldn't understand how it all went so wrong." He reached out to take Ariadne's hand, and she unthinkingly grasped his hand tightly. "They blamed each other and it fell apart. Your parents didn't do that." Ariadne shook her head silently. Her parents had nearly gone bankrupt to get her the sessions she needed, but they had done it and made sure that Ariadne was okay. "You were the lucky one."
The waiting area faded until they were in an open field. "Where are we now?" Ariadne asked, her head cocked to the side.
"This is the place I used to dream about, before the nightmares came." He swept his free arm out and around them. "Go on. Do your thing."
"What?"
"Show me what you can do. Go nuts." Arthur grinned at her, his eyes lighting up. "Build something great."
She wanted to protest, that this wasn't what she was here for. But she could see the younger version of Arthur and Gabrielle in her mind's eye, could hear their laughter in the park. That child was long gone now, lost inside a monster's PASIV and lust.
The world shifted, and they were in Paris. She had done a semester abroad in college, and she was now borrowing her architecture heavily from her time in the Quartier Latin. Arthur seemed delighted, and laughed as she started playing around with the streets and buildings. They shot impossibly high into the air, and a street curved up to meet it. One building had a fire escape that went nowhere, and passersby were able to walk above them on the curved street.
Arthur pulled her close by her waist, laughing. It was almost like an impromptu waltz, and Ariadne let him whirl her around in circles. "Take me in," he whispered as he spun her. "Go in further, show me what you can really do."
She wanted to protest that there was nothing else, that this was the only level they needed to go into. But his hands slid low along her back, pulling her flush against him, and Ariadne felt almost as if she was drowning in his gaze. She opened her mouth and found that they were falling, air rushing upward all around them. She curled inward, grasping hold of Arthur and tucking her face against his chest to protect her eyes from the whistling wind. His arms tightened around her, holding her close. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear as he said "I'll protect you, Ariadne. I'll always keep you safe."
They fetched up outside a castle, a forest nearby. There was a single tower in the castle, a white sheet hanging outside of the window. It seemed almost as if someone was dangling from it, but it was hard to tell at that distance.
"We should save her," Arthur told Ariadne, and she could see that the figure was indeed a woman. Her legs were flailing inside of her dress, an exquisite ball gown. She was hanging on for dear life, afraid she was going to lose herself. "We can be her knights in shining armor."
They were astride horses, lances in hand and gleaming next to their dingy armor. Ariadne almost wanted to protest that she wasn't a knight, but she stopped herself. She was dreaming, and she was an FBI agent in real life. She could translate the same skills to the dream world, and a lance was simply a really long baton. Other knights on horseback appeared at the base of the castle. "Are those your projections?" she asked, looking over at Arthur.
"How do you know they aren't yours?" he countered, amused.
"This isn't my dream," Ariadne contested.
"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, voice arch in challenge.
Ariadne opened her mouth to answer, but the knights across the field started to bellow a challenge. She sighed instead and shook her head. "Let's go save the princess."
Using the lance was easier than Ariadne had thought it would be. When the knights were thrown from their horses, they tried to take up swords to go after Ariadne and Arthur. Ignoring the screams from above, Ariadne seized a sword and began to fight with one of the knights attacking her. She had never used one before, but this was a dream. She could do anything in it, and she found herself moving like actors in movies did. She shifted the ground beneath their feet. Arthur was able to move quickly, but the dream knights didn't know what was happening and stumbled. Ariadne stabbed one in the chest, and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Arthur did the same for the two that he was battling, then looked up as the screaming seemed to grow louder. "Look up!"
Ariadne looked up and caught the falling princess in her arms. The princess was petite, swathed in silk and satin and lace, wearing Ariadne's sixteen year old face. Startled, Ariadne nearly dropped her. She looked up at Arthur, who was amused and no longer wearing the armor. "You were beautiful back then."
Ariadne wasn't wearing armor herself anymore. She couldn't feel its weight, and even the weight of the princess was ghostly. She turned back to the girl in her arms and found that the princess' figure was small and almost like a doll. The princess mouthed "Thank you," but her voice was so soft and hard to hear that it almost didn't exist. Ariadne was wearing the princess' dress, the train extending behind her. "Arthur," she began, brows knit in confusion. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. It's all you," he said with a shrug, extending his arm for her to take. He was dressed as a nobleman to match her princess garb.
She was about to protest that she couldn't take his arm, but the doll in her arms was gone. Reluctantly she took his arm, and he spun her about in a circle so that their bodies crashed into each other. His hands were heavy about her waist, his gaze intense on hers. "I'm not a princess in a tower," she protested.
"You're my princess," Arthur murmured, lips curled into a soft smile. He ran one hand along her spine, and the dress seemed to dissolve. Her front was covered, but now the back of the dress and the train were gone. "You're beautiful, Ariadne."
She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he kissed her. It was hot and open, his tongue in her mouth and his hand along the bare skin of her back. The other hand was fisted in the skirt of the dress, pulling and lifting the fabric. Ariadne could feel a bolt of pure desire shoot through her, pooling between her legs. Gasping, she pushed him back and covered her mouth with her hands. She shook her head desperately as he flew backward, fetching up against a tree.
Arthur approached slowly, taking in her agitated state and the tears in her eyes. "You don't want to feel this, but you do," he murmured. "We're connected."
"You kidnapped me," Ariadne gasped, leveling a finger at him. "You did this to me. I was fine before. You ruined everything!"
He was suddenly in front of her and grasped her wrists. She was pressed up against the wall of the castle, rough stone biting into the skin of her back. "I didn't ruin your life, Ariadne. I opened your eyes to what was going on. That's what this is about, isn't it? You don't want to see. You don't want to understand. You want to think this is something I made up, that I'm some kind of ruthless killer that will do nothing but hurt you."
"Aren't you?" she countered.
"I do what I have to, same as you," Arthur told her evenly. "This isn't my dream, Ariadne, it's yours. You're the dreamer. I'm in your dream. You're the one with the princess locked in the tower that needs to be saved." He let go of one wrist to caress her face. "You locked her away, Ariadne. You kept her safe, but you kept her shut up from the world. You're afraid of what will happen if she is set free."
"No one will ever hurt her again," Ariadne answered, though she didn't understand what she said a moment later.
"No, they won't," Arthur agreed, nodding. He grasped her face in both hands. "Let me help you, Ariadne. I want to protect her, too. I want to be a part of her life."
"I don't know how," she whispered.
"Let me help you," Arthur murmured, leaning in to kiss her. "Ariadne, let me in."
She responded to his kiss, melting beneath the touch of his lips to hers. Arthur's hands were comforting, and she grasped his arms for balance. His hands moved down to caress her neck, and Ariadne caught hold of his shirt. He was dressed in a button down shirt now, with carefully pressed slacks and wingtip shoes, his hair slicked back. The princess dress had changed into her dove gray skirt suit and maroon blouse. His kiss was slow and methodical, tongue between her lips as his hands slid beneath the edge of her suit jacket and over the sateen blouse to slide around her waist. He kissed her, tongue moving to stroke hers rhythmically. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, feeling herself get lost in the sensation of it, drowning in the scent of him. He broke the kiss for air, still feeling the presence of her lips against his. He kept his eyes on her face, watching her lips part as she gasped for air. Her face said it all, that she wanted him inside her, that she couldn't believe this was really happening.
Gravity shifted, and she was on her back on a bed, Arthur supporting his weight on either side of her. They were in a generic hotel room, the sheets soft beneath her. "I love your hair," Arthur murmured, brushing his fingers across it, pulling out the pins and letting it tumble from her updo. He combed his fingers through her dark hair, watching it as it slipped through his fingers. He smiled gently at her. "I want to do things the right way with you, Ariadne," he said softly. "I want this to be perfect."
"It will be," Ariadne murmured, her hand resting against his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm, and the buttons slid easily through the holes.
Once she got his shirt unbuttoned, she slid her hands against the skin of his chest and pulled him down on top of her. Their mouths met again, devouring each other hungrily. It was like kissing fire, or touching pure electricity. Something was happening between them, something odd and strange and almost frightening. Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue slid in to touch hers. The jolt between them made them both gasp. "More," Ariadne whimpered against his mouth, spreading her legs wide. Her skirt rode up her hips, and Arthur traced one stockinged thigh with his fingertips. "God, I need more."
Pulling his shirt from his waistband, Ariadne slid her hands along his back. Arthur groaned; the contact of her hands against his skin was utterly electric. He pushed thighs further apart, lifting the skirt of her suit. Frustrated with the stockings, he tugged and pulled at them until they shredded and Ariadne laughed. He knelt between her legs, and she helped to peel the pantyhose away from the skin. Arthur touched the bared skin of her thighs, fingertips ghosting over the insides of her thighs. "Arthur," she whined. "C'mon, just touch me already."
Arthur grinned at her, shrugging out of the shirt. Ariadne took off the suit jacket, flinging it off into a corner of the room. She smiled shyly at him, sitting on the bed with her skirt hiked up above her waist and her hair all tousled. Arthur gently pushed her back down onto the bed and moved down the length of her body. She whimpered when he pressed his mouth to her center, when he started tracing her folds with his lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair, back arching up as she gasped for breath. She spread her legs wide to give him better access, and she tasted like honey on his tongue. Arthur traced her folds with his fingertips and then slipped one inside. She made a keening sound, high and needy. He moved slowly and deliberately according to the sounds she made, and it wasn't long until she fell apart in his hands. He kept his tongue on her clit, guiding her down from the high before he withdrew and licked his lips. "Arthur," she whimpered, reaching for him.
She made a soft sigh of contentment when he slid his fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out roughly. Ariadne writhed beneath him, legs twitching restlessly. He touched his tongue to the seam of her mouth, then touched her tongue when she parted her lips. She moaned into his mouth as her body clenched down hard on his fingers, her hands pulling at the sheets. He brushed his thumb across her clit, making her gasp in pleasure. He was half hard already, and she was hardly even touching him. Ariadne came again, tight and slick around his fingers, head thrown back. She grasped his waist and fumbled with the belt and button on his slacks. Arthur got rid of them quickly, then moved to kneel between her spread legs. "Ariadne," he rasped, hands sliding along her thighs. He wanted this so much he was trembling.
"Arthur," she moaned, reaching up to grasp his hips. "Now, I need you inside me now..."
He thrust into her wet heat, and she muffled a soft keening noise by kissing his mouth. It was a rough kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth possessively as she held him close. Arthur didn't care about that. The sensation of her was overwhelming, as if he was drowning in her. And when he opened his eyes, he could see her rapt expression looking up at his stunned one. Mine, he thought incoherently, mouth falling open as he struggled for breath.She's all mine.
He moved inside of her with deep strokes, and she raked her nails across his back. She was wet and slippery, and Arthur reveled in the feel of her. She was perfect, better than he had imagined, and all the struggles up to this point had been worth it. She tightened around him, head thrown back as she gasped and moaned. He grit his teeth to try to draw it out, but he was coming inside of her with a strangled groan. Arthur thumbed her clit hard, and Ariadne came with a cry, fingernails digging into his buttocks hard.
Arthur curled up around her, his face pressed against the side of hers. Her hair was caught beneath him, and he slipped his hand down across her bared stomach. She was still wearing her blouse and skirt, both rucked up and wrinkled beyond repair. After a moment he tugged them off of her body, until she lay bare in front of him. Ariadne watched him look at her, his hand sliding across her stomach in slow circles. He shifted and propped himself up on one elbow. Watching her expression, he let his fingers wander lower down, before sliding between her legs again. She looked at him, startled, and Arthur grinned unrepentantly before bending down to take a nipple between his lips.
"Arthur," Ariadne gasped, sliding a hand through his hair. She didn't know whether to tug his mouth away or urge him to take more in. "What are you...? You just," she gasped, before arching into his touch. "Oh, god, don't stop."
"You're a gift to be savored," he said as he moved from one breast to the other. His lips hovered over her skin, and he looked up at her dazed expression. "Got a problem with that?"
"N-no," she gasped as his fingers slid deeply inside her, his thumb at her over-sensitized clit. "Oh, there," she moaned. She let out a choked moan as his lips closed over her breast and he sucked gently, fingers moving and curling inside her. Ariadne slid her hands along his back and shoulders, feeling the play of muscle beneath skin, the faint sheen of sweat there. Arthur curled his fingers upward, hitting a particular spot that had Ariadne's hips jerking in his hands as she cried out. Arthur kept going at a punishing pace until she clenched down hard around his fingers and came with a keening sound.
She moaned softly as she lay limply against the tangled sheets, eyes tracking his movement as he continued working her body with his fingers and mouth. She reached down along his back as far as she could reach, nails scraping along the skin. "Keep doing that," she whimpered, lips parted as she tried to draw in breath. "Arthur..."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin, pushing his fingers harder inside of her. She cried out and canted her hips, legs shifting restlessly across the sheets. He shifted position, kneeling beside her, and he hissed when she grasped his length and started to stroke him.
He withdrew his fingers when she came again, and moved her so that she was on all fours on the bed. He layered kisses along her spine, running his slicked fingers across her skin. Ariadne's breath was shallow, the scent of her passion overwhelming. "I love you," he whispered against the skin of her neck. She turned her head to look at him in surprise. "I love you," he repeated, stroking her back. "More than I ever thought possible."
"Arthur," she whispered, not sure what to say.
He pressed his fingers against her lips. "It's okay. Don't say anything. You don't have to. It doesn't matter," he said with a crooked smile and a shake of his head. "It's all right if you don't love me back. Maybe you will one day."
"But..."
He moved behind her, then slid inside her slicked passage. She let out a contented sigh at the feel of him inside of her, and he began to thrust into her with long, sure strokes. Arthur kept hold of her hips as he rocked against her, a hum deep within his throat. He let his eyes fall closed, reveling in the feel of her. I love you rang like an echo between them, something he wasn't afraid to say but she was afraid to hear.
She came, clenching down around him tightly. The sheets were caught up in her fists, and her face was pressed down into the bed to muffle her cries. Arthur let go of her hips, and came down to his side on the bed. "Get on top of me," he murmured, pulling at her hips to add to the suggestion. "I want to watch you come."
Limbs loose and like jelly, Ariadne climbed on top of Arthur, her hands sliding across his chest. She guided him into her, sighing as she sank down over him. She moved slowly at first, her breath catching in her throat at the expression on his face. Throwing her head back, Ariadne let her eyes slide shut. Arthur's hand slid over her stomach, then one moved up to catch a breast between his fingers. He rolled the nipple gently, then tugged sharply at her gasp of pleasure. She undulated over him, hands sliding further to curl around his shoulders.
"Oh, god," Ariadne moaned, eyes falling open. The expression on her face was one of wonder and pleasure, and Arthur cupped her cheek in one hand. "This feels... You feel so good," she gasped, her hand tightening into his shoulder.
"Come for me," Arthur whispered, pulling at her nipple. He slid the hand at her face down to her neck, to the curve where it met her shoulder. "I need to see you." She was tight around him, growing tighter still. Even as desensitized as he was from coming once already, he could tell that he was close to coming again.
He would never be able to get enough of her. He would never be able to let her go.
Ariadne whimpered as she ground harder against him, rocking faster. Arthur slid his second hand to her other breast, thumbing her peaked nipples. She cried out, back arched and head thrown back, eyes shut as she convulsed on top of him. Her entire body clenched tight and hard, and she rode out her orgasm, milking him. Arthur pulled at her hips as he thrust up against her, spilling deep inside her again.
Ariadne fell on top of him, breath coming in soft pants. Her face was in the crook of his neck, and he curled his arms around her back to cradle her.
It felt right. It felt as if this had always been meant to happen, as if her body had been molded specifically to fit his. Everything in her life had led her on the path to him, making sure that they would meet, that this would happen.
It was frightening how content she felt, how utterly perfect it was to feel his rapid heart thudding in his chest beneath hers. They fit, and she was comfortable in a way she often wasn't with other people.
But how had her life come to this?
"How twisted am I?" she whispered, hands curling into loose fists on either side of him. The sheets were tangled up beneath them, and she pulled at him in a fit of pique. She raised herself up to her elbows to look down at him, breath shallow in her chest. "I'm some kind of twisted freak now, aren't I?"
"Only as twisted as you let yourself believe you are. You're stronger than what happened to you, Ariadne. One day, we'll be able to set it all right again."
He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her lips gently, reverently. He obviously believed what he was telling her. He cared about her, for her. He wanted the world at her feet, wanted everything to be just right for her.
And he killed ruthlessly, mercilessly, sliding through laws and security codes like a ghost. He didn't exist, didn't leave a trail. There was a stillness inside of him, a frightening emptiness that Ariadne would never be able to touch. He was hollow inside, carved out and left for dead by a nameless and faceless monster that had him dreaming of darkness for days that felt like years on end. Arthur was everything she had hoped never to be, everything she had worked so hard to fight. He was her very antithesis.
Arthur also was the one that understood her, cherishing every last part of her soul. Her history didn't frighten him away and didn't excite him with all the ways he could use it. It was simply another thing that had happened to her, another facet of her past that led up to the person that she was at the moment.
"I don't know if I can," Ariadne whispered, tracing the curve of his jaw with a fingertip.
He ran his hands along her back, feeling the bumps of her spine beneath his fingers. "Yes, you can. You can do whatever you set your mind to do. You're more than what they would make you out to be. I know this."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You take your pain and use it. You make it work for you. It's not the other way around. It doesn't consume you, it doesn't define you." She nodded, accepting that. "Not everyone can do that. For the longest time, I couldn't."
Ariadne could hear the pain in his quiet voice and could only guess at how horrible it had been for him. "This gives you purpose," she guessed.
"This is how I transform it. This is how I prevent it from ever happening again."
She laid back down on his chest, hearing his heart slow a bit. "I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered softly. She should try to turn him in. She should try to get him to stop. She should contact the FBI and let them know what was going on.
She should. But she didn't think she could.
"Stop thinking so hard," Arthur said, threading his fingers through her hair. "Just be with me for a while. Let go and let me help you."
Ariadne buried her face in the crook of his neck and held on tightly. "I don't know..."
"I do," he said softly, cradling her in his arms. "I'll help you."
She sobbed, her tears surely burning his skin. She was torn in too many different directions, for once in her life unable to pick the path she had to take.
When they finally woke from the dream, only an hour later in real time, Ariadne sat up slowly and took in Arthur's face. She reached out to him, the IV line still in her arm. "Arthur," she whispered, catching his hand in hers.
"Ariadne," he answered, holding on tightly.
She pulled him closer and their lips met. Like in the dream, it felt like static. Her insides were molten, her knees rubbery. Not even bothering to pull the lines, she opened the fly of his pants and unzipped him. She slid a hand inside as he yanked the lines and took off his shirt. Without a word, she ran her hands down his chest then around to trace the curve of his rear. The kiss deepened, and Arthur grasped the back of her neck with one hand, fingers tangling in her dark hair. His other worked at the buttons of her blouse and tried to unhook the clasp of her trousers. Impatiently, she released him long enough to kick out of her clothes.
Tumbling to the floor, it was a tangled mess of lips and teeth and tongue and roaming hands, exploring each other. They knew what it had been like in the dream, and now everything was so vivid. Arthur parted her legs and stroked her damp flesh before sliding inside of her. She moaned and clutched at him, urging him to go faster and harder. Arthur pounded into her, hips working like a piston, and he came with a strangled groan. Ariadne was close, so he grit his teeth and kept going, pushing into her until she clamped tight around him and let out a soft cry.
They lay there on the floor, limbs entwined, breathing heavily in the dim room. For a fleeting moment, Ariadne had Oh god, what now? flitting through her mind. Arthur was warm and snuggled close to her, nuzzling her neck.
It wasn't a dream. This felt just as right and perfect as it had in the dreamscape, but this was real.
"I'll stay with you," she murmured, tangling her fingers in his hair as she held him close. She let her eyes slide shut, but she had already seen his ecstatic smile.
"I love you so much," he whispered next to her ear.
"I know," she returned, burying her face against his. She breathed in deeply, her feelings a shredded mess inside her chest.
Her lips stretched into a smile against his cheek. "I love you, too."
The worst part of it was, she meant it.
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To chapter 7!