Certain Dark Things, 1/6. R.
Title: Certain Dark Things
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames (eventually)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 17: Ariadne's prying ways get her in trouble over her head with some very dangerous people. Allusions to suicide and child abuse. Also for the "wild card" box on my hc_bingo card; I'm using "hostile environment."
Summary: Ariadne's first job was out of the ordinary in just about every way possible. She expected to be able to get away with her curiosity, but that wasn't going to happen.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Pablo Neruda
The thing about the impossible and dreaming was that once Ariadne had done it, she couldn't stop doing it. It was like a trick picture, the kind with illusions built into the images; once you saw the hidden picture, you couldn't stop seeing it there. She knew that there was no contacting the others right away, just to be safe. The others had mentioned that there was a wide network of major players in dream share, and sometimes people stuck with the known entities rather than risk working with the unknown the way Dom Cobb had done in getting her from the university. There had been no guarantees that she would have been able to build what they needed or understood the enormity of the task.
On some level, she knew she should have been horrified by what she had helped to do. But it had felt more like an academic exercise. It was going through dreams, and even the prospect of potentially living in a dream for ten years hadn't thrown her off track at first. After all, she wasn't the one that was supposed to be living in it. She was the designer, the architect. She built the levels, the mazes, the traps. She set it up for the others, but the plan hadn't called for her to join the team inside the actual dream.
But then, like the dream share field itself, once she had seen what the dream could be, she couldn't unsee it.
It was one thing to see her constructed levels in the training sessions, walking the others through to teach them the mazes. That had been amazing enough, and had given her a thrill that no model or 3D reconstruction in a CAD program ever could. Every detail had looked exactly the way she wanted it to, no need to compromise because of building codes, laws or client whims changing at the last minute due to cost. There was no need to nick her hands with knives or burn her fingertips with hot glue as she slaved away over a model her professors were simply going to rip apart in a scathing critique. No, this looked exactly the way she imagined it, exactly the way she had designed it. An entire city or hotel or fortress, mazes and traps and paradoxes within them, the entire feeling of the place setting the tone for what needed to be done. Going into the levels themselves brought an added layer of amazement to it, seeing them populated by projections and looking for all the world like an actual, real place.
Ariadne had never understood the draw for drugs or alcohol before. She had been too driven in school, and after a project she wanted sleep more than bar hopping, even if all her peers had gone to get completely wrecked after finals. Now she understood the rush, the divine pleasure of something falling into place and feeling exactly right for a change. Now she understood that feeling of perfection.
She needed more of it.
At her request, Arthur let a few of his contacts know she was a budding and brilliant architect that was interested in doing more work. For the moment, Arthur was keeping his head down and taking a break from dream share. She had the feeling that keeping Dom Cobb afloat for a while had taxed his reserves, but he had simply been too stubborn to say so or give in. He deserved the break for dealing with Mal, and Ariadne hoped she would get a chance to work with him again. He was reserved at times but very fair and hard working, and they had gotten along really well. She couldn't find Eames, and Yusuf wanted to stay in Mombasa with his sleepers. Arthur didn't think it was odd that Eames was proving difficult for her to find; the forger had several different roles in dream share, and he had mentioned to Arthur that he had wanted to let some of the whispers die down a bit. Completing difficult jobs was a double edged sword; it brought more business but also invited jealousy and double dealing from others in the field. Ariadne was new and didn't realize how dangerous it could be until Arthur pointed it out. It would be good to make a few more friends; otherwise dream share could prove to be a very isolating field of work.
Now nearly a year after the Fischer job, Ariadne had done three other design jobs. They were simple in comparison, just single layer dreams for extracting key codes and bank accounts. She was bored after the complexity of the Fischer job, and Arthur had laughed. "This is what the field is like, Ariadne," he had told her, amused. "Your first job was completely out of the ordinary. It's not something that comes along every day, and it's generally held to be impossible. You can't expect every job to be like that one."
Ariadne wanted to be challenged. She wanted to stretch the limits of her imagination, wanted to really discover what she could do. Putting the word out amongst the few contacts she had collected netted her an offer from someone she hadn't heard of. Arthur simply told her to be careful, and the extractors she had worked with for the other jobs had simply said that Verick was tough but fair. "Don't do anything stupid and he'll let you live," one had laughed. "I heard a story about how their watcher tried to fleece them out of the deal and sell them off to the highest bidder. No one heard from him again."
Considering her plan was to stay in dream share long term, that kind of behavior wasn't anywhere on her agenda.
Verick was a stocky man of average height and build with a square jaw, dark eyes and dark hair. He didn't talk about himself or the rest of the team he worked with, though they all carried the same air of familiarity that Cobb and Arthur had. She supposed that they had worked with each other several times, and it made her wonder what had happened to the prior architect they had worked with. She asked Verick flat out what led to his search for a new architect, and he simply leveled a dead gaze at her. "Just build the levels we need," he told her, voice brooking no argument. It was a two level job to go into a paranoid man's mind, likely with a lot of subconscious security. Verick absolutely refused to let her go in with them, especially since her formal defense and arms training was limited.
Verick's point man was a closemouthed man, but seemed to take pity on Ariadne's confusion. "Look. You're new. Not just to our team, but to the field in general." He had laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a smile that was meant to be reassuring but only came across as condescending. "Give it time. You can't expect to know everything and be part of everything right away. We've heard your designs are spectacular, so we're trying it out to see how it goes. If it works well, then we'll have other jobs for you to work on. Then we'll see if we can trust you to hold down a first level for us."
I helped to make inception work, she had wanted to say, frustrated. But she knew she couldn't disclose that; Arthur's warnings carried too much weight in her mind. "I can do more. I know I can," she said, letting her frustration through. "I can help."
"You are helping," he said, dismissal clear in his tone. "The model will be ready by tomorrow, then?"
"Yes," she replied, keeping the resentment from her tone as best as she could. "I'll walk you through your level in the morning."
They were perfectionists, much in the same way that Cobb and Arthur had been. Verick did a lot of planning; Ariadne had to wonder if he had been a point man before he got into extracting information. He and his point dovetailed very well, understanding what they needed to do without much discussion. Ariadne was almost an afterthought in the room, which she supposed was somewhat of a backhanded compliment. They trusted her enough not to censor themselves in front of her, but they didn't trust her enough to hold down a level for them. They pulled in a woman they'd worked with before named Skye, a svelte woman with blonde hair and vivid green eyes that looked like a model. She was going to turn the head of their paranoid subject, slip something in his drink and walk him back to his hotel room as if he was drunk. From there, Ariadne would watch over them as they all went in.
It was an elegant plan, but Ariadne wasn't much more than a glorified babysitter for this part of the job. She resented it mightily.
Skye was rather cold, but every inch the perfectionist the way Verick and his point were. She had to stay later in the evening to catch up to the others in learning the map, especially if she was going to dream it. The others simply needed to learn the layout and traps. She had to learn the nuance of the place and hold the details in her memory. She spent a lot of time with Ariadne getting it right. While in a dream with her, Ariadne couldn't help but ask "Have you worked with them long?"
"Mm-hm." Skye looked at her after a moment. "Oh, right. This is your first job with them. You're a baby in the field."
It stung sharper than it should have, but the tone was so dismissive that Ariadne burned underneath the words. She stayed silent as she led Skye to one of the buildings that was the most ornate, letting the woman take a look at the design. It was reminiscent of the subject's first apartment building, meant to make him feel a little more at home and less on guard. "Did something happen to their architect?" she asked after a moment, pointing out the carvings in the keystones of the arches.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Skye said absently, staring at the details. "This is fabulous work. I can see why you're so highly recommended."
The praise was too little, too late. Ariadne still felt the resentment curling in her chest. She was being shunted aside, ignored as if she didn't matter. "Wait a sec," she said, brows furrowing. If the woman thought she was a baby in the field, she could play up the confusion. It had worked with Verick's point man, though that didn't seem to affect Verick in the slightest. "Was it on a job? I'd still need to be concerned about that, since I'll be there."
Skye looked over at Ariadne, gaze sharp and assessing. "There were personal issues he never worked through. You'll be safe on this to design again."
As far as Skye was concerned, that was enough. She turned back to the building in front of her to memorize details, and Ariadne had the urge to keep pushing, to find the name of this architect to find out what the hell had happened. Verick was too close mouthed, and something horrible had to have happened. Cobb had kept his secrets and it almost destroyed the team and the job. Ariadne couldn't let the same thing happen here, even if this other architect wasn't in on the job. The ghost of him was, the others dancing around the subject and all knowing whatever this terrible secret was.
She wasn't close enough to Skye to simply ask her, and she had already tried with Verick. Being direct wouldn't get her anywhere here, but she wasn't quite so gauche as to keep trying and get herself booted off of the job or blackballed.
Then again, simply asking Cobb hadn't worked either. Finding him in the PASIV had forced the issue, and that had helped her understand what they had all been dealing with. Considering how often the others were preparing their levels and plans, it would be easy enough to repeat.
The night before the job, Ariadne found Verick alone and under sedation in the PASIV. There were still ten minutes on the clock, so it should be plenty of time under to see what was going on and get out before he woke up. She was curious, not suicidal.
It wasn't either of the two levels she had designed for this job. It was something completely different, a beachfront town that reminded her a bit of North Carolina in summer. Verick was in the distance on the deck of a house sitting beside another man, their heads bent close to one another. Ariadne came closer, keeping out of sight to duck beneath the deck to try to listen in on their conversation.
The second man was laughing. "Oh, no one will ever be like me, you know that." He shifted in his seat beside Verick. "Do you think she's going to do something stupid, then?"
"Not like you did," Verick replied in a gravelly voice. She had never heard pain in it like that before. "She'll get the job done."
"So stop worrying," the second man said, throwing an arm around Verick's shoulders. "You've always worried too much. You know you should stop, or you wouldn't keep coming here to remind yourself." He pressed a kiss to Verick's cheek. "You know how sorry I am. I would've stayed forever if I could."
"I know. I still wonder about that sometimes. If I'd gotten there sooner..."
"If not then, another time." He gave Verick another soft kiss. "I was off my meds. I was a ticking time bomb, you know that." He stood and gestured toward the water. "Come on. You came here to relax, so let's relax. The job is tomorrow, the levels are perfect and the plan is in place. Just let it happen and stop worrying about it."
Verick sighed but followed him out from the deck to the water. Ariadne shrank back further under the decking, but neither had expected her to be there and weren't looking for her. Once they were far enough away, Ariadne ducked out of the deck and quietly woke herself up by taking a knife to her throat.
She discarded the needle and put the tubing back in the slot she had taken it from, though she couldn't wind it up as neatly as she had found it. Leaving the office quietly, Ariadne went back to her own hotel room. They had a job to do the next day.
***
The job itself went well. Everything proceeded smoothly, and they all woke with the kick as they were supposed to. Ariadne started looping up all the tubing after discarding the needles in the small sharps container within the silver briefcase. She could feel Verick's eyes on her back and did her best to ignore it. "Am I forgetting something?" she asked when he continued staring at her after she shut the briefcase. Ariadne looked around the room but it looked undisturbed. "I think I got everything, and I didn't touch anything while the timer was on."
Verick blinked slowly, then nodded. "We got what we needed."
They went their separate ways, and Ariadne got a text from an anonymous number telling her that a deposit was waiting in her account. She shifted the money into her actual account, leaving the minimum five hundred euros in the account to keep it open. An hour later, there was another text arranging a meeting for another job.
Ariadne grabbed her jacket and stuffed her phone into its pocket. She locked up the hotel room, her bags packed and ready to go back home. The meeting was a fairly public café, so it should be safe enough to see what the job was all about. Now that she was done with this job, she wanted to do something more.
She never made it to the café.
***
Ariadne came to in an empty factory. It was grimy, with chains and discarded machinery all around, some of the glass broken out of the windows. Faded gray light filtered in through the remnants of windows, and it didn't improve the atmosphere of the place at all. She last remembered being yanked into an alleyway, then the sting of a needle into her arm. She had collapsed, and strong arms had caught her. She glimpsed a face and brown eyes sneering at her as the world spun around her.
Stupid, she wanted to curse at herself. She didn't know enough about the business, didn't know nearly enough about keeping herself safe.
She was tied up, her wrists bound behind her with what felt like duct tape, her ankles secured with more duct tape. She could wiggle around and felt the shape of her phone in her jacket. Easing her weight off of it, she hoped it wasn't broken. The gag in her mouth was her own scarf, moved from her neck and shoved into her mouth then tied tightly around her head. There was no way to work it loose, and Ariadne tried to wriggle around. The arm she was lying on was numb, and she couldn't really flip herself over. Movies always made it seem simple to pull arms down and work legs through, but she could barely even move. She wasn't hurt, which was a small mercy at this point. The brown eyed man hadn't said a word to her and didn't seem interested in assaulting her. That didn't mean she wasn't in danger, however. She wasn't that stupid.
The echo of footsteps on the pavement carried through the empty factory. Her fear spiked again, and Ariadne would have swallowed if there was any spit in her mouth left. She could hear the scrape of metal on metal, then a groaning and screeching sound that resembled a rusty door being forced open.
Laughter drifted toward her ears, and the fear was so thick it was nearly choking her. There was also a very hefty dose of rage coursing through her. How dare that bastard laugh when she was terrified for her life?
The rage and terror increased when she realized there were multiple voices and multiple pairs of feet. She couldn't know what they wanted from her, but her mind raced in a dozen different directions, and none of them were good. Would he torture her? Kill her? Rape her? She was a petite woman alone and tied up. There was no way she could resist, and the brown eyed man had at least a hundred pounds of muscle to back him up. Ariadne couldn't even remember the prayers she had learned as a child. Dear God, she thought, blinking back tears that threatened to form. Please let me live through this. Please let me be okay. Please. I don't know if I even deserve a second chance anymore, not after these things I've done, but please let it be okay.
She was tense as the footsteps approached, as the voices resolved themselves from vague babbles into actual words. "...back there. She should be up by now."
"Itty bitty thing, you know?" a second voice chimed in. "Didn't take much to knock 'er out. Weighed practically nothing."
There was a grunt and it seemed like a third man. Another with a distinctively different voice laughed, and it sounded familiar enough that Ariadne's skin crawled. She wouldn't go down easily. Whatever they wanted from her, she would fight. She wouldn't simply cave in, even if it killed her. She wasn't that kind.
"Easiest job you ever brought us," the first voice said, a pleased inflection to his tone.
And then the four men turned the corner into Ariadne's view. The first one she saw was Eames.
He had an easy grin on his face and looked entirely too chummy with the other three. The one leading the way was the brown eyed man that had gotten her, and she couldn't recognize the other two. Eames was in jeans and a T shirt beneath a leather jacket, not at all what she had seen him wearing during the Fischer job preparations. He looked over Ariadne's trussed up form with a critical eye, and it was like a stranger was looking at her.
"Want us to leave 'er here?" the second voice said, looking at Eames uncertainly. He hadn't liked the look of recognition and incredulity in Ariadne's eyes.
Eames stared at Ariadne for a moment, contemplating her. He tapped his jaw thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head sharply. "As we discussed earlier," he replied, smooth accent just the way she remembered it. She had never been able to place where he was from by his accent, and attempts to ask him about it had simply led him to laugh at her and say it wasn't as important as the way he would sound on the job.
Now she wondered if she was the job.
The men hoisted her easily over one shoulder, and they hiked back the way they had come. She saw the rusted chains and hooks, the various bits of rusted machinery that was left in the mostly empty space. It had been manufacturing of some kind that had happened there, though not for years. If Eames had wanted to leave her there, no one would find her and she would slowly starve to death.
She was unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of a car. Eames' calm expression and clear eyes were the last thing she saw before they lowered the hood and locked her in.
***
The drive was long and there was no way for Ariadne to know where they were or where they were going. She rattled around in the trunk, scarf still stuck in her mouth. The air was stale and had the faint odor of oil. All she could think about was Eames' bland expression, wondering what he was going to do with her. He had been joking with the bastards that had kidnapped her, as if he had known them. He had been laughing with them, and he had looked at her as if he didn't know her.
She didn't know if he betrayed her, and somehow that mattered even more to her than if she was safe with him. She was helpless and at his mercy, after all. He could do whatever he wanted to do, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. If he had betrayed her, she wouldn't be safe no matter where in the world she ran to. He was good at what he did, and there was no way she could hide from him and still work.
Finally, the car came to a complete stop. She could hear a garage door start to shut, and after a while the trunk was opened. Eames looked down at her impassively, shadows covering his face in the dimly lit garage. "Hello, Ariadne," he said in a neutral tone of voice. "You've been a very naughty, naughty girl."
Ariadne remained silent as he lifted her out of the trunk and hoisted her over his shoulder. He hefted her weight easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Upside down over his shoulder, his hand firmly across the back of her thighs, Ariadne struggled to breathe. Eames had massive shoulders and arms; the suits he had worn on the Fischer job seemed to be almost a deliberate way he had dressed to downplay his physical strength. It was the same tactic he had taken with his intelligence; he seemed to want people to underestimate him. It was a dangerous prospect, of course, and Ariadne couldn't second guess him ever again.
Eames brought her into the house that was attached to the garage and deposited her into a bedroom. She was face down on top of the bed, and the only glimpse she got of the bedroom was dark woods and colors, mostly deep greens and blues. It was a very masculine room, with massive furniture for Eames' larger frame size. It made her feel tiny to be lying on his king size bed, her face pressed into the soft fabric of his comforter. Breath coming in shallow pants, Ariadne's heart froze in her chest when Eames clambered up onto the bed behind her and then straddled her bound body. She could feel his thighs pressing in against hers, and one rough hand coming to rest against the back of her head.
"I've gone to quite a lot of trouble to keep an eye on you. Arthur was very worried that you would get on Verick's bad side." He made a soft tsk sound. "He was very impressed with your work, but that curiosity is going to get you into even more trouble than you're already in. If Verick makes it known that you're free play, anyone can get it in their heads to keep an architect in their pocket, hm?" Eames undid the scarf knot and gently worked it from her mouth. "Was it worth the effort, Ariadne?"
It took a minute to work enough spit into her mouth to moisten it. "What?"
"Digging around in Verick's head like that? He figured it out." Ariadne stilled when she heard the snick of a switchblade opening. "You didn't say anything and he doesn't know what you were after, but it's going to take a lot to get back into his good graces."
"You know him?"
"The major players in the field are few and far between, darling," Eames drawled. "We know everyone. I'm surprised Arthur didn't say anything, considering how responsible he feels for helping to drag you out of the real world." He chuckled and let his fingertips trail down her spine. "Verick asked me about you. I told him you were talented and fearless, but more like a puppy." He chuckled again at her indignant squawk. "Or perhaps a fawn, all gangling legs and can't quite figure out how to make them all work properly."
"He said he only worked with people he knew, and his architect was gone. Everyone was acting odd about it."
"So?"
"So? Cobb was acting odd and his secrets could've killed us all."
"Ahhhhh..." Eames said, as if everything was clicking into place. He shifted his weight over her and then started to saw off the duct tape around her wrists. "While I certainly applaud self preservation, most in the field don't enjoy being the subject to someone else's curiosity. Would you like someone poking about in your head without your permission?"
"I have nothing to hide."
"Certainly not the point."
"And we do it for a living, don't we? Invading privacy, stealing secrets and selling them off?"
"That is very true," Eames conceded. "But a coworker, whom you should nominally trust not to stab you in the back on a job, are they also on the table?"
"I needed to know if it was something that would bite us in the ass on a job," Ariadne said defensively. She stayed very still until he pulled the duct tape off of her wrists, wincing at the sting of it.
"Did you ever think of just asking him if it would affect the job?" Eames asked pointedly.
Ariadne opened her mouth, then shut it. She made a face and pulled her arms up close to head. "No," she said finally.
Eames snorted, shaking his head. "Like I said. Overeager puppy." He shifted his weight again and moved to cut her ankles free. "Still, I'm glad Verick asked me about you, because he mentioned that a few others were asking him about you, too. Including Aranov, who's not one I'd ever want to tangle with. He's been looking for a pocket team for some time." Eames closed the switchblade and put it back in his pocket. "Way I see it, you owe me."
"What?" she asked, pushing up to her elbows and half turning to look at him incredulously. She yelped in pain and surprise as Eames tugged the duct tape from her ankles and she saw it take off skin.
"Ah, that was a nasty one," he muttered, looking at the blood welling up to the surface. "Too delicate, you are." He looked up with a bland expression. "Aranov is a piece of work, and is not above torture and threats to keep people beholden to him. But he won't cross some of the names in the field, and no one's stepped up to say you're worth their protection. Other than Arthur, but his sphere of influence is rather limited."
"That's... grossly archaic, isn't it?" Ariadne asked, wincing at the sight of her ankles.
"It's a predominantly male field, in case you haven't noticed. It takes those willing to get down and dirty, as well as move at a moment's notice." Eames moved off of the bed and extended his hand to her. "Let's get you patched up. If you're going to owe me for this, it better be a good job, right?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked, not following his train of thought.
"You've never been on the wrong side of the law before, have you?" Eames asked, amused. She was light-headed when she got to her feet, and she needed him to steady her. He brought her to the master bath and had her sit on the edge of the tub so that he could douse her ankles in hydrogen peroxide and wrap them. He approved of her reticence in asking why his bathroom had a fully stocked med kit, especially when she hadn't seen the sterile gloves and surgical tools yet.
"The most I've gotten is a speeding ticket."
Eames clucked his tongue, amused. "Like I said. Overeager puppy."
It rankled just the way Skye's calling her a baby did. "Stop saying that!"
He smiled at her and poured the peroxide. He still smiled as she hissed at the contact but didn't jerk. "You're young, Ariadne. And you're young in the field. You don't know how it works, but we deliberately haven't told you the ins and outs of it." He looked up and gave her a soft smile. "No one ever intended for you to stay, you understand. You weren't supposed to want to stay. You were supposed to think this was all a pleasant dream, and then go on your merry way."
"Not when I can build like that," she said earnestly, eyes shining with passionate intensity for the first time since she had seen Eames. "You can't take that away from me, Eames. I can't undo the fact that I know it all exists."
"So it is as Arthur feared after all," he said in a soft tone of voice. "But then, he's too busy keeping himself out of trouble, too. There are a number of companies none too pleased with Cobb, you understand. And if he's out of the picture, they'll go after Arthur."
Ariadne went very still and looked at him with large eyes. She had somehow thought of Arthur as invincible, as if he knew everyone and everything in dream share. "Is he in danger?"
Eames chuckled at her concern. "Not if he keeps out of trouble. He's a smart man, our Arthur." He gave her a much warmer smile than he had shown her previously. "He'll land on his feet. We've known of each other for years, and he's always done all right."
"But I'm the one in trouble?" Ariadne guessed.
"Let's just say you should be glad I was the highest bidder," Eames replied, wrapping gauze around her ankles. "Like I said. Aranov is not someone I care to trifle with, and he was showing a bit more interest in you than what ought to be healthy."
"What kind of interest from him is healthy?"
"None."
Ariadne blinked at the short tone he had taken, but no further explanation was coming. He taped down the gauze and then got up. "There. That will make sure you don't get an infection. It would be rather difficult for you to explain away duct tape marks, I'm sure."
She frowned at his tone. "Why? How would you explain it?"
Eames gave her a playful leer and a naughty wink. "Think about it."
"You're disgusting," Ariadne said, turning away to inspect the bandages.
He snickered at her affronted tone. "Such an innocent. You can't last in the business with that kind of attitude. Are you sure you really want to stay? I'm certain you'll find some sort of legitimate route to take if you really like to build so much."
She looked up, eyes flashing. "I can do this."
"Of course you can," Eames said, vague condescension evident in his tone. "Just as you have been so far."
Ariadne flushed and couldn't meet his eyes. "I'll learn. I can do this."
"You can stay here for a little while. I took the liberty of checking you out of your hotel and getting your belongings for you." He chuckled at her shocked expression. "You really need a better alias, darling. It was easy to figure out which name you were using. I'll give you a piece of advice for free. Have several, and don't tell people which one you're currently using to get in and out of the country."
"Because they would've hurt me?" she asked, confused.
"Because right now, no one else will protect you and you don't know how to do it yourself." Eames' tone was blunt, and it made Ariadne wince. "Cobb brought you in and Arthur taught you enough to get you started, but neither really taught you how to stay alive. Like I said, no one expected you to want to stay. It wasn't necessary at the time, after all. The Fischer job was an anomaly. There won't be another job like it, and a team like that isn't common."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ariadne asked softly, looking up at his impassive face.
"You're a brilliant architect. Dreamers like you are rare and should be protected. You have no idea the value you have in the industry. A lot of successful jobs can hinge on getting the right atmosphere for a dream, and you understand that instinctively." He leaned against the door frame. "I'm not working a job in dream share at the moment, but when I do, I'd like to work with you again. That necessarily means you have to stay alive until then." He smiled, a flash of teeth and vague menace. "And you owe me a favor. Staying alive isn't part of it."
"What kind of favor?"
"I saved your life," Eames told her, amusement in his eyes. "In some cultures, that life debt is pretty damn expensive. Don't worry. I'll make sure it's an even trade."
Ariadne wasn't sure she liked how that sounded, but she didn't have much choice in the matter.
His hand was heavy on her shoulder as he led her to a guest room where he had tossed her bag onto the floor. "You can stay here for a little while, if you like. Once I'm sure Aranov isn't going to try to arrange a kidnapping, you can head home."
She turned and faced him, a troubled expression on her face. "What would happen to me if he did?"
"No one would ever see you again." His tone was flat and expressionless. "Or if they did, you wouldn't be Ariadne anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"He burns out people that work for him. He finds a way in, taps that weakness, and you become nothing but an empty shell. I've seen it, and perfectly good people become nothing more than ghosts. When that happens, he finds someone else and the cycle starts all over again."
Ariadne shivered and nodded. "Thank you, Eames."
His smile was a flash of teeth that didn't feel reassuring at all. "Don't thank me yet. He may still be interested in you."
He left, and Ariadne sat on the bed. She called Verick, suddenly feeling like a chastened child. It went to voicemail, which was actually easier. "I'm sorry for something that I did before the job," she said quietly. "There was someone I worked with once who kept secrets, and it nearly trapped us all in limbo. I was afraid it would happen again. I should have just asked you." Ariadne took a breath. "I don't know if it means anything, but I really am very sorry. I'll understand if you don't want to work with me again."
She hung up and curled up on top of the bed, her phone in hand. She closed her eyes, her chest tight and painful as if she was about to cry. Just the day before she had felt invincible, as if she knew everything she needed to know about this business. No one had ever given her any indication that it was a precarious one, that one misstep could get her killed. Or that there were worse things out there than death.
She had a lot to learn, and it was a humbling thought.
***
***
To chapter two, Shades Of Gray
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames (eventually)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 17: Ariadne's prying ways get her in trouble over her head with some very dangerous people. Allusions to suicide and child abuse. Also for the "wild card" box on my hc_bingo card; I'm using "hostile environment."
Summary: Ariadne's first job was out of the ordinary in just about every way possible. She expected to be able to get away with her curiosity, but that wasn't going to happen.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Pablo Neruda
The thing about the impossible and dreaming was that once Ariadne had done it, she couldn't stop doing it. It was like a trick picture, the kind with illusions built into the images; once you saw the hidden picture, you couldn't stop seeing it there. She knew that there was no contacting the others right away, just to be safe. The others had mentioned that there was a wide network of major players in dream share, and sometimes people stuck with the known entities rather than risk working with the unknown the way Dom Cobb had done in getting her from the university. There had been no guarantees that she would have been able to build what they needed or understood the enormity of the task.
On some level, she knew she should have been horrified by what she had helped to do. But it had felt more like an academic exercise. It was going through dreams, and even the prospect of potentially living in a dream for ten years hadn't thrown her off track at first. After all, she wasn't the one that was supposed to be living in it. She was the designer, the architect. She built the levels, the mazes, the traps. She set it up for the others, but the plan hadn't called for her to join the team inside the actual dream.
But then, like the dream share field itself, once she had seen what the dream could be, she couldn't unsee it.
It was one thing to see her constructed levels in the training sessions, walking the others through to teach them the mazes. That had been amazing enough, and had given her a thrill that no model or 3D reconstruction in a CAD program ever could. Every detail had looked exactly the way she wanted it to, no need to compromise because of building codes, laws or client whims changing at the last minute due to cost. There was no need to nick her hands with knives or burn her fingertips with hot glue as she slaved away over a model her professors were simply going to rip apart in a scathing critique. No, this looked exactly the way she imagined it, exactly the way she had designed it. An entire city or hotel or fortress, mazes and traps and paradoxes within them, the entire feeling of the place setting the tone for what needed to be done. Going into the levels themselves brought an added layer of amazement to it, seeing them populated by projections and looking for all the world like an actual, real place.
Ariadne had never understood the draw for drugs or alcohol before. She had been too driven in school, and after a project she wanted sleep more than bar hopping, even if all her peers had gone to get completely wrecked after finals. Now she understood the rush, the divine pleasure of something falling into place and feeling exactly right for a change. Now she understood that feeling of perfection.
She needed more of it.
At her request, Arthur let a few of his contacts know she was a budding and brilliant architect that was interested in doing more work. For the moment, Arthur was keeping his head down and taking a break from dream share. She had the feeling that keeping Dom Cobb afloat for a while had taxed his reserves, but he had simply been too stubborn to say so or give in. He deserved the break for dealing with Mal, and Ariadne hoped she would get a chance to work with him again. He was reserved at times but very fair and hard working, and they had gotten along really well. She couldn't find Eames, and Yusuf wanted to stay in Mombasa with his sleepers. Arthur didn't think it was odd that Eames was proving difficult for her to find; the forger had several different roles in dream share, and he had mentioned to Arthur that he had wanted to let some of the whispers die down a bit. Completing difficult jobs was a double edged sword; it brought more business but also invited jealousy and double dealing from others in the field. Ariadne was new and didn't realize how dangerous it could be until Arthur pointed it out. It would be good to make a few more friends; otherwise dream share could prove to be a very isolating field of work.
Now nearly a year after the Fischer job, Ariadne had done three other design jobs. They were simple in comparison, just single layer dreams for extracting key codes and bank accounts. She was bored after the complexity of the Fischer job, and Arthur had laughed. "This is what the field is like, Ariadne," he had told her, amused. "Your first job was completely out of the ordinary. It's not something that comes along every day, and it's generally held to be impossible. You can't expect every job to be like that one."
Ariadne wanted to be challenged. She wanted to stretch the limits of her imagination, wanted to really discover what she could do. Putting the word out amongst the few contacts she had collected netted her an offer from someone she hadn't heard of. Arthur simply told her to be careful, and the extractors she had worked with for the other jobs had simply said that Verick was tough but fair. "Don't do anything stupid and he'll let you live," one had laughed. "I heard a story about how their watcher tried to fleece them out of the deal and sell them off to the highest bidder. No one heard from him again."
Considering her plan was to stay in dream share long term, that kind of behavior wasn't anywhere on her agenda.
Verick was a stocky man of average height and build with a square jaw, dark eyes and dark hair. He didn't talk about himself or the rest of the team he worked with, though they all carried the same air of familiarity that Cobb and Arthur had. She supposed that they had worked with each other several times, and it made her wonder what had happened to the prior architect they had worked with. She asked Verick flat out what led to his search for a new architect, and he simply leveled a dead gaze at her. "Just build the levels we need," he told her, voice brooking no argument. It was a two level job to go into a paranoid man's mind, likely with a lot of subconscious security. Verick absolutely refused to let her go in with them, especially since her formal defense and arms training was limited.
Verick's point man was a closemouthed man, but seemed to take pity on Ariadne's confusion. "Look. You're new. Not just to our team, but to the field in general." He had laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a smile that was meant to be reassuring but only came across as condescending. "Give it time. You can't expect to know everything and be part of everything right away. We've heard your designs are spectacular, so we're trying it out to see how it goes. If it works well, then we'll have other jobs for you to work on. Then we'll see if we can trust you to hold down a first level for us."
I helped to make inception work, she had wanted to say, frustrated. But she knew she couldn't disclose that; Arthur's warnings carried too much weight in her mind. "I can do more. I know I can," she said, letting her frustration through. "I can help."
"You are helping," he said, dismissal clear in his tone. "The model will be ready by tomorrow, then?"
"Yes," she replied, keeping the resentment from her tone as best as she could. "I'll walk you through your level in the morning."
They were perfectionists, much in the same way that Cobb and Arthur had been. Verick did a lot of planning; Ariadne had to wonder if he had been a point man before he got into extracting information. He and his point dovetailed very well, understanding what they needed to do without much discussion. Ariadne was almost an afterthought in the room, which she supposed was somewhat of a backhanded compliment. They trusted her enough not to censor themselves in front of her, but they didn't trust her enough to hold down a level for them. They pulled in a woman they'd worked with before named Skye, a svelte woman with blonde hair and vivid green eyes that looked like a model. She was going to turn the head of their paranoid subject, slip something in his drink and walk him back to his hotel room as if he was drunk. From there, Ariadne would watch over them as they all went in.
It was an elegant plan, but Ariadne wasn't much more than a glorified babysitter for this part of the job. She resented it mightily.
Skye was rather cold, but every inch the perfectionist the way Verick and his point were. She had to stay later in the evening to catch up to the others in learning the map, especially if she was going to dream it. The others simply needed to learn the layout and traps. She had to learn the nuance of the place and hold the details in her memory. She spent a lot of time with Ariadne getting it right. While in a dream with her, Ariadne couldn't help but ask "Have you worked with them long?"
"Mm-hm." Skye looked at her after a moment. "Oh, right. This is your first job with them. You're a baby in the field."
It stung sharper than it should have, but the tone was so dismissive that Ariadne burned underneath the words. She stayed silent as she led Skye to one of the buildings that was the most ornate, letting the woman take a look at the design. It was reminiscent of the subject's first apartment building, meant to make him feel a little more at home and less on guard. "Did something happen to their architect?" she asked after a moment, pointing out the carvings in the keystones of the arches.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Skye said absently, staring at the details. "This is fabulous work. I can see why you're so highly recommended."
The praise was too little, too late. Ariadne still felt the resentment curling in her chest. She was being shunted aside, ignored as if she didn't matter. "Wait a sec," she said, brows furrowing. If the woman thought she was a baby in the field, she could play up the confusion. It had worked with Verick's point man, though that didn't seem to affect Verick in the slightest. "Was it on a job? I'd still need to be concerned about that, since I'll be there."
Skye looked over at Ariadne, gaze sharp and assessing. "There were personal issues he never worked through. You'll be safe on this to design again."
As far as Skye was concerned, that was enough. She turned back to the building in front of her to memorize details, and Ariadne had the urge to keep pushing, to find the name of this architect to find out what the hell had happened. Verick was too close mouthed, and something horrible had to have happened. Cobb had kept his secrets and it almost destroyed the team and the job. Ariadne couldn't let the same thing happen here, even if this other architect wasn't in on the job. The ghost of him was, the others dancing around the subject and all knowing whatever this terrible secret was.
She wasn't close enough to Skye to simply ask her, and she had already tried with Verick. Being direct wouldn't get her anywhere here, but she wasn't quite so gauche as to keep trying and get herself booted off of the job or blackballed.
Then again, simply asking Cobb hadn't worked either. Finding him in the PASIV had forced the issue, and that had helped her understand what they had all been dealing with. Considering how often the others were preparing their levels and plans, it would be easy enough to repeat.
The night before the job, Ariadne found Verick alone and under sedation in the PASIV. There were still ten minutes on the clock, so it should be plenty of time under to see what was going on and get out before he woke up. She was curious, not suicidal.
It wasn't either of the two levels she had designed for this job. It was something completely different, a beachfront town that reminded her a bit of North Carolina in summer. Verick was in the distance on the deck of a house sitting beside another man, their heads bent close to one another. Ariadne came closer, keeping out of sight to duck beneath the deck to try to listen in on their conversation.
The second man was laughing. "Oh, no one will ever be like me, you know that." He shifted in his seat beside Verick. "Do you think she's going to do something stupid, then?"
"Not like you did," Verick replied in a gravelly voice. She had never heard pain in it like that before. "She'll get the job done."
"So stop worrying," the second man said, throwing an arm around Verick's shoulders. "You've always worried too much. You know you should stop, or you wouldn't keep coming here to remind yourself." He pressed a kiss to Verick's cheek. "You know how sorry I am. I would've stayed forever if I could."
"I know. I still wonder about that sometimes. If I'd gotten there sooner..."
"If not then, another time." He gave Verick another soft kiss. "I was off my meds. I was a ticking time bomb, you know that." He stood and gestured toward the water. "Come on. You came here to relax, so let's relax. The job is tomorrow, the levels are perfect and the plan is in place. Just let it happen and stop worrying about it."
Verick sighed but followed him out from the deck to the water. Ariadne shrank back further under the decking, but neither had expected her to be there and weren't looking for her. Once they were far enough away, Ariadne ducked out of the deck and quietly woke herself up by taking a knife to her throat.
She discarded the needle and put the tubing back in the slot she had taken it from, though she couldn't wind it up as neatly as she had found it. Leaving the office quietly, Ariadne went back to her own hotel room. They had a job to do the next day.
***
The job itself went well. Everything proceeded smoothly, and they all woke with the kick as they were supposed to. Ariadne started looping up all the tubing after discarding the needles in the small sharps container within the silver briefcase. She could feel Verick's eyes on her back and did her best to ignore it. "Am I forgetting something?" she asked when he continued staring at her after she shut the briefcase. Ariadne looked around the room but it looked undisturbed. "I think I got everything, and I didn't touch anything while the timer was on."
Verick blinked slowly, then nodded. "We got what we needed."
They went their separate ways, and Ariadne got a text from an anonymous number telling her that a deposit was waiting in her account. She shifted the money into her actual account, leaving the minimum five hundred euros in the account to keep it open. An hour later, there was another text arranging a meeting for another job.
Ariadne grabbed her jacket and stuffed her phone into its pocket. She locked up the hotel room, her bags packed and ready to go back home. The meeting was a fairly public café, so it should be safe enough to see what the job was all about. Now that she was done with this job, she wanted to do something more.
She never made it to the café.
***
Ariadne came to in an empty factory. It was grimy, with chains and discarded machinery all around, some of the glass broken out of the windows. Faded gray light filtered in through the remnants of windows, and it didn't improve the atmosphere of the place at all. She last remembered being yanked into an alleyway, then the sting of a needle into her arm. She had collapsed, and strong arms had caught her. She glimpsed a face and brown eyes sneering at her as the world spun around her.
Stupid, she wanted to curse at herself. She didn't know enough about the business, didn't know nearly enough about keeping herself safe.
She was tied up, her wrists bound behind her with what felt like duct tape, her ankles secured with more duct tape. She could wiggle around and felt the shape of her phone in her jacket. Easing her weight off of it, she hoped it wasn't broken. The gag in her mouth was her own scarf, moved from her neck and shoved into her mouth then tied tightly around her head. There was no way to work it loose, and Ariadne tried to wriggle around. The arm she was lying on was numb, and she couldn't really flip herself over. Movies always made it seem simple to pull arms down and work legs through, but she could barely even move. She wasn't hurt, which was a small mercy at this point. The brown eyed man hadn't said a word to her and didn't seem interested in assaulting her. That didn't mean she wasn't in danger, however. She wasn't that stupid.
The echo of footsteps on the pavement carried through the empty factory. Her fear spiked again, and Ariadne would have swallowed if there was any spit in her mouth left. She could hear the scrape of metal on metal, then a groaning and screeching sound that resembled a rusty door being forced open.
Laughter drifted toward her ears, and the fear was so thick it was nearly choking her. There was also a very hefty dose of rage coursing through her. How dare that bastard laugh when she was terrified for her life?
The rage and terror increased when she realized there were multiple voices and multiple pairs of feet. She couldn't know what they wanted from her, but her mind raced in a dozen different directions, and none of them were good. Would he torture her? Kill her? Rape her? She was a petite woman alone and tied up. There was no way she could resist, and the brown eyed man had at least a hundred pounds of muscle to back him up. Ariadne couldn't even remember the prayers she had learned as a child. Dear God, she thought, blinking back tears that threatened to form. Please let me live through this. Please let me be okay. Please. I don't know if I even deserve a second chance anymore, not after these things I've done, but please let it be okay.
She was tense as the footsteps approached, as the voices resolved themselves from vague babbles into actual words. "...back there. She should be up by now."
"Itty bitty thing, you know?" a second voice chimed in. "Didn't take much to knock 'er out. Weighed practically nothing."
There was a grunt and it seemed like a third man. Another with a distinctively different voice laughed, and it sounded familiar enough that Ariadne's skin crawled. She wouldn't go down easily. Whatever they wanted from her, she would fight. She wouldn't simply cave in, even if it killed her. She wasn't that kind.
"Easiest job you ever brought us," the first voice said, a pleased inflection to his tone.
And then the four men turned the corner into Ariadne's view. The first one she saw was Eames.
He had an easy grin on his face and looked entirely too chummy with the other three. The one leading the way was the brown eyed man that had gotten her, and she couldn't recognize the other two. Eames was in jeans and a T shirt beneath a leather jacket, not at all what she had seen him wearing during the Fischer job preparations. He looked over Ariadne's trussed up form with a critical eye, and it was like a stranger was looking at her.
"Want us to leave 'er here?" the second voice said, looking at Eames uncertainly. He hadn't liked the look of recognition and incredulity in Ariadne's eyes.
Eames stared at Ariadne for a moment, contemplating her. He tapped his jaw thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head sharply. "As we discussed earlier," he replied, smooth accent just the way she remembered it. She had never been able to place where he was from by his accent, and attempts to ask him about it had simply led him to laugh at her and say it wasn't as important as the way he would sound on the job.
Now she wondered if she was the job.
The men hoisted her easily over one shoulder, and they hiked back the way they had come. She saw the rusted chains and hooks, the various bits of rusted machinery that was left in the mostly empty space. It had been manufacturing of some kind that had happened there, though not for years. If Eames had wanted to leave her there, no one would find her and she would slowly starve to death.
She was unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of a car. Eames' calm expression and clear eyes were the last thing she saw before they lowered the hood and locked her in.
***
The drive was long and there was no way for Ariadne to know where they were or where they were going. She rattled around in the trunk, scarf still stuck in her mouth. The air was stale and had the faint odor of oil. All she could think about was Eames' bland expression, wondering what he was going to do with her. He had been joking with the bastards that had kidnapped her, as if he had known them. He had been laughing with them, and he had looked at her as if he didn't know her.
She didn't know if he betrayed her, and somehow that mattered even more to her than if she was safe with him. She was helpless and at his mercy, after all. He could do whatever he wanted to do, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. If he had betrayed her, she wouldn't be safe no matter where in the world she ran to. He was good at what he did, and there was no way she could hide from him and still work.
Finally, the car came to a complete stop. She could hear a garage door start to shut, and after a while the trunk was opened. Eames looked down at her impassively, shadows covering his face in the dimly lit garage. "Hello, Ariadne," he said in a neutral tone of voice. "You've been a very naughty, naughty girl."
Ariadne remained silent as he lifted her out of the trunk and hoisted her over his shoulder. He hefted her weight easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Upside down over his shoulder, his hand firmly across the back of her thighs, Ariadne struggled to breathe. Eames had massive shoulders and arms; the suits he had worn on the Fischer job seemed to be almost a deliberate way he had dressed to downplay his physical strength. It was the same tactic he had taken with his intelligence; he seemed to want people to underestimate him. It was a dangerous prospect, of course, and Ariadne couldn't second guess him ever again.
Eames brought her into the house that was attached to the garage and deposited her into a bedroom. She was face down on top of the bed, and the only glimpse she got of the bedroom was dark woods and colors, mostly deep greens and blues. It was a very masculine room, with massive furniture for Eames' larger frame size. It made her feel tiny to be lying on his king size bed, her face pressed into the soft fabric of his comforter. Breath coming in shallow pants, Ariadne's heart froze in her chest when Eames clambered up onto the bed behind her and then straddled her bound body. She could feel his thighs pressing in against hers, and one rough hand coming to rest against the back of her head.
"I've gone to quite a lot of trouble to keep an eye on you. Arthur was very worried that you would get on Verick's bad side." He made a soft tsk sound. "He was very impressed with your work, but that curiosity is going to get you into even more trouble than you're already in. If Verick makes it known that you're free play, anyone can get it in their heads to keep an architect in their pocket, hm?" Eames undid the scarf knot and gently worked it from her mouth. "Was it worth the effort, Ariadne?"
It took a minute to work enough spit into her mouth to moisten it. "What?"
"Digging around in Verick's head like that? He figured it out." Ariadne stilled when she heard the snick of a switchblade opening. "You didn't say anything and he doesn't know what you were after, but it's going to take a lot to get back into his good graces."
"You know him?"
"The major players in the field are few and far between, darling," Eames drawled. "We know everyone. I'm surprised Arthur didn't say anything, considering how responsible he feels for helping to drag you out of the real world." He chuckled and let his fingertips trail down her spine. "Verick asked me about you. I told him you were talented and fearless, but more like a puppy." He chuckled again at her indignant squawk. "Or perhaps a fawn, all gangling legs and can't quite figure out how to make them all work properly."
"He said he only worked with people he knew, and his architect was gone. Everyone was acting odd about it."
"So?"
"So? Cobb was acting odd and his secrets could've killed us all."
"Ahhhhh..." Eames said, as if everything was clicking into place. He shifted his weight over her and then started to saw off the duct tape around her wrists. "While I certainly applaud self preservation, most in the field don't enjoy being the subject to someone else's curiosity. Would you like someone poking about in your head without your permission?"
"I have nothing to hide."
"Certainly not the point."
"And we do it for a living, don't we? Invading privacy, stealing secrets and selling them off?"
"That is very true," Eames conceded. "But a coworker, whom you should nominally trust not to stab you in the back on a job, are they also on the table?"
"I needed to know if it was something that would bite us in the ass on a job," Ariadne said defensively. She stayed very still until he pulled the duct tape off of her wrists, wincing at the sting of it.
"Did you ever think of just asking him if it would affect the job?" Eames asked pointedly.
Ariadne opened her mouth, then shut it. She made a face and pulled her arms up close to head. "No," she said finally.
Eames snorted, shaking his head. "Like I said. Overeager puppy." He shifted his weight again and moved to cut her ankles free. "Still, I'm glad Verick asked me about you, because he mentioned that a few others were asking him about you, too. Including Aranov, who's not one I'd ever want to tangle with. He's been looking for a pocket team for some time." Eames closed the switchblade and put it back in his pocket. "Way I see it, you owe me."
"What?" she asked, pushing up to her elbows and half turning to look at him incredulously. She yelped in pain and surprise as Eames tugged the duct tape from her ankles and she saw it take off skin.
"Ah, that was a nasty one," he muttered, looking at the blood welling up to the surface. "Too delicate, you are." He looked up with a bland expression. "Aranov is a piece of work, and is not above torture and threats to keep people beholden to him. But he won't cross some of the names in the field, and no one's stepped up to say you're worth their protection. Other than Arthur, but his sphere of influence is rather limited."
"That's... grossly archaic, isn't it?" Ariadne asked, wincing at the sight of her ankles.
"It's a predominantly male field, in case you haven't noticed. It takes those willing to get down and dirty, as well as move at a moment's notice." Eames moved off of the bed and extended his hand to her. "Let's get you patched up. If you're going to owe me for this, it better be a good job, right?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked, not following his train of thought.
"You've never been on the wrong side of the law before, have you?" Eames asked, amused. She was light-headed when she got to her feet, and she needed him to steady her. He brought her to the master bath and had her sit on the edge of the tub so that he could douse her ankles in hydrogen peroxide and wrap them. He approved of her reticence in asking why his bathroom had a fully stocked med kit, especially when she hadn't seen the sterile gloves and surgical tools yet.
"The most I've gotten is a speeding ticket."
Eames clucked his tongue, amused. "Like I said. Overeager puppy."
It rankled just the way Skye's calling her a baby did. "Stop saying that!"
He smiled at her and poured the peroxide. He still smiled as she hissed at the contact but didn't jerk. "You're young, Ariadne. And you're young in the field. You don't know how it works, but we deliberately haven't told you the ins and outs of it." He looked up and gave her a soft smile. "No one ever intended for you to stay, you understand. You weren't supposed to want to stay. You were supposed to think this was all a pleasant dream, and then go on your merry way."
"Not when I can build like that," she said earnestly, eyes shining with passionate intensity for the first time since she had seen Eames. "You can't take that away from me, Eames. I can't undo the fact that I know it all exists."
"So it is as Arthur feared after all," he said in a soft tone of voice. "But then, he's too busy keeping himself out of trouble, too. There are a number of companies none too pleased with Cobb, you understand. And if he's out of the picture, they'll go after Arthur."
Ariadne went very still and looked at him with large eyes. She had somehow thought of Arthur as invincible, as if he knew everyone and everything in dream share. "Is he in danger?"
Eames chuckled at her concern. "Not if he keeps out of trouble. He's a smart man, our Arthur." He gave her a much warmer smile than he had shown her previously. "He'll land on his feet. We've known of each other for years, and he's always done all right."
"But I'm the one in trouble?" Ariadne guessed.
"Let's just say you should be glad I was the highest bidder," Eames replied, wrapping gauze around her ankles. "Like I said. Aranov is not someone I care to trifle with, and he was showing a bit more interest in you than what ought to be healthy."
"What kind of interest from him is healthy?"
"None."
Ariadne blinked at the short tone he had taken, but no further explanation was coming. He taped down the gauze and then got up. "There. That will make sure you don't get an infection. It would be rather difficult for you to explain away duct tape marks, I'm sure."
She frowned at his tone. "Why? How would you explain it?"
Eames gave her a playful leer and a naughty wink. "Think about it."
"You're disgusting," Ariadne said, turning away to inspect the bandages.
He snickered at her affronted tone. "Such an innocent. You can't last in the business with that kind of attitude. Are you sure you really want to stay? I'm certain you'll find some sort of legitimate route to take if you really like to build so much."
She looked up, eyes flashing. "I can do this."
"Of course you can," Eames said, vague condescension evident in his tone. "Just as you have been so far."
Ariadne flushed and couldn't meet his eyes. "I'll learn. I can do this."
"You can stay here for a little while. I took the liberty of checking you out of your hotel and getting your belongings for you." He chuckled at her shocked expression. "You really need a better alias, darling. It was easy to figure out which name you were using. I'll give you a piece of advice for free. Have several, and don't tell people which one you're currently using to get in and out of the country."
"Because they would've hurt me?" she asked, confused.
"Because right now, no one else will protect you and you don't know how to do it yourself." Eames' tone was blunt, and it made Ariadne wince. "Cobb brought you in and Arthur taught you enough to get you started, but neither really taught you how to stay alive. Like I said, no one expected you to want to stay. It wasn't necessary at the time, after all. The Fischer job was an anomaly. There won't be another job like it, and a team like that isn't common."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ariadne asked softly, looking up at his impassive face.
"You're a brilliant architect. Dreamers like you are rare and should be protected. You have no idea the value you have in the industry. A lot of successful jobs can hinge on getting the right atmosphere for a dream, and you understand that instinctively." He leaned against the door frame. "I'm not working a job in dream share at the moment, but when I do, I'd like to work with you again. That necessarily means you have to stay alive until then." He smiled, a flash of teeth and vague menace. "And you owe me a favor. Staying alive isn't part of it."
"What kind of favor?"
"I saved your life," Eames told her, amusement in his eyes. "In some cultures, that life debt is pretty damn expensive. Don't worry. I'll make sure it's an even trade."
Ariadne wasn't sure she liked how that sounded, but she didn't have much choice in the matter.
His hand was heavy on her shoulder as he led her to a guest room where he had tossed her bag onto the floor. "You can stay here for a little while, if you like. Once I'm sure Aranov isn't going to try to arrange a kidnapping, you can head home."
She turned and faced him, a troubled expression on her face. "What would happen to me if he did?"
"No one would ever see you again." His tone was flat and expressionless. "Or if they did, you wouldn't be Ariadne anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"He burns out people that work for him. He finds a way in, taps that weakness, and you become nothing but an empty shell. I've seen it, and perfectly good people become nothing more than ghosts. When that happens, he finds someone else and the cycle starts all over again."
Ariadne shivered and nodded. "Thank you, Eames."
His smile was a flash of teeth that didn't feel reassuring at all. "Don't thank me yet. He may still be interested in you."
He left, and Ariadne sat on the bed. She called Verick, suddenly feeling like a chastened child. It went to voicemail, which was actually easier. "I'm sorry for something that I did before the job," she said quietly. "There was someone I worked with once who kept secrets, and it nearly trapped us all in limbo. I was afraid it would happen again. I should have just asked you." Ariadne took a breath. "I don't know if it means anything, but I really am very sorry. I'll understand if you don't want to work with me again."
She hung up and curled up on top of the bed, her phone in hand. She closed her eyes, her chest tight and painful as if she was about to cry. Just the day before she had felt invincible, as if she knew everything she needed to know about this business. No one had ever given her any indication that it was a precarious one, that one misstep could get her killed. Or that there were worse things out there than death.
She had a lot to learn, and it was a humbling thought.
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To chapter two, Shades Of Gray