Fic: dream a dream (and what you see will be) - mizzy2k - PART 4
dream a dream (and what you see will be)
mizzy2k
Ariadne looks over to see Cobb, to gauge his reaction, and she catches the moment he realizes what's going on, the instant he finally, finally understands.
Ariadne doesn't know what to say. "Arthur" might be what she wants to say, using his name like Mal devised, like a totem. She wants to use his name to bring him back permanently, but Arthur stepped through that door despite his feelings for Eames, despite not wanting to die, because Arthur wanted to save Amelia like Mal saved him, and Ariadne doesn't have the right to decide for him.
Cobb takes a breath, and Ariadne fights the urge to stop him, to shout out, because whatever name he chooses to say probably will decide the whole way forward. Ariadne imagines for a moment telling Amelia's parents that they're sorry, they can't help; she's much more relieved at the concept than she should be.
When he speaks, Cobb doesn't say a name. His eyes linger on the weird, half-accidental embrace between Arthur and Eames, and his voice is soft when he says, "How long?"
"Years," Arthur breathes, without tearing his gaze from Eames, and Eames, Eames who's never without a word to say, stays silent and trembles a little. Eames' mouth compresses into a line, like it's a fight to keep his emotion in check now. "Years and years."
Eames manages to straighten a little, tilting them both upright, and Arthur puts a hand on Eames' cheek, his fingers curling tentatively.
"Years and years and no time at all," Arthur says, and Eames closes his eyes for a moment and lowers his head. Arthur ducks his own head, pushing his forehead against Eames, and Arthur's fingers hold Eames' face there.
Ariadne's so sure she and Cobb shouldn't be watching this. This moment is Arthur and Eames, and isn't for intruders. But there's no time for privacy, and no time for this to be taken above, not unless they throw the whole mission aside.
And while they're all thinking it, Ariadne knows one other thing for sure - Arthur won't let them throw Amelia's chance away, not now.
"If this is all it took to get you to swoon into my arms in front of others, I'd have touched you with an audience well before now," Eames says, and his voice is light like he's teasing, but his face spells out the tension and strain clearer than any words could.
"Don't be gauche," Arthur interrupts automatically, but there's no lightness in it, not like their usually is.
"Pet-" Eames starts, but Arthur shakes his head.
"You have to say my name," Arthur whispers, and Eames flinches like he's hurt. "I couldn't live with myself if we gave up on Amelia now." His voice breaks a little when he adds, "Mal never gave up on me."
"I know." There's a terrible smile on Eames' face now, a terrible taut mockery of a smile as he breathes, "Oh, my love, I know."
Ariadne's breath catches at the endearment. From the way Arthur's eyes crease, it's not an unusual sentiment for them.
"I won't let you go without a fight, you know," Eames says, louder, more fiercely. "I won't."
Arthur's smile mirrors Eames, no amusement in it at all, but it's so much more sad on his face than terrible. "I know," Arthur says, "I'd expect nothing less." His voice is strong when he demands, again, "Say my name."
Eames nods, and his gaze drops, and he swallows. He pulls his face away from Arthur's and he carefully doesn't look at him as he tenses and says, clear and strong, "Bastian."
That's it. Nothing else. Just Bastian and Arthur changes. His face goes slack, and then there's almost fury in his eyes for a moment, and then it's pure confusion. Eames' hands are still lingering on his elbows, and Bastian stumbles back as if Eames' touch hurts him.
"Get off me," Bastian says, his eyes wide as he stares at Eames like he's the most deadly thing on the planet, and if Arthur doesn't come back after all of this, he probably will be. Bastian yanks AURYN out from his tunic again, and this time he holds it out like a weapon. His eyes are wild as he looks between the three of them.
The sounds of Fantasia start to crowd back in, but instead of the gentle, slow curve of sound that came in a crescendo up from nothing previously, all the sounds of Fantasia crash together like a wave, rolling over the top of them like an almost physical blow. Ariadne struggles to stay on her feet, and she looks at Bastian, wild-eyed and nervous. Ariadne thought Seb was the one who was 180 degrees different from Arthur, but this is Arthur without an ounce of control at all, this is Bastian, through and through, and Arthur holds his emotions tightly and Bastian is terrified.
"Keep him away from me," Bastian says, his voice pitching up, and his eyes wide with the terror. "Keep away from me."
He turns, and starts to run through the undergrowth. Ariadne watches, and looks at Cobb to follow his lead, and she freezes. Cobb's expression is curiosity and concern, and he's making no move to follow him, but that's not what causes her to freeze.
What causes her to freeze is what's coming up behind Cobb. Something Ariadne can identify without even thinking about it, because it's something that gave her nightmares as a kid for hours on end.
She turns on her heels, eyes wide with horror, but it's no use.
The Nothing is everywhere.
For something called the Nothing, it's certainly something. At first it looks like a ring of stormclouds, all coincidentally heading in their direction at the same time - but that illusion shatters quickly because of the speed of it. There's a reason it's called the Nothing, though, and Ariadne feels it down to her bones; she just feels utterly hopeless. Like there's nothing inside her, no hope, no life, no point.
Except the Nothing by nature is a terrible force and the dark, all-encompassing hurtling black cloud rushes towards them in a roar of sound and a rush of terrible, too powerful wind that knocks Ariadne's feet from the ground. She slams into the air, torn by the Nothing in every direction, and she catches a flash of Eames and Cobb being flung into opposite direction, and she screams. Her scream is ripped from her throat, and the Nothing surrounds her, thick black cloud barrelling down her throat, and she's ripped into pieces from the inside out-
-she wakes in the warehouse, gasping and grasping for her throat, blinking furiously and trying to expel the last shreds of the Nothing from her lungs even though it was all in the dream.
The warehouse seems too dark, too still, too colorless after Fantasia. She looks across as Eames and Cobb wake up. They're more graceful than her at the waking up process; Eames' jaw tightens, and Cobb blinks a couple of times. Ariadne feels ashamed of her own flailing awakening, and for the fact she clearly succumbed to the dream death before them, and then she notices something else - the empty chair.
She hurls herself out of her seat in time to see Arthur - no, she reminds herself, this is reality - she's in time to see Seb hurtle out of the main door. Her arm stings where the needles whip out of her arm. The door slams shut behind him. Ariadne whirls to see Cobb rubbing his arm, and Eames slowly winding the wires back into the PASIV.
"Best go after him," Cobb says, after a moment of looking at Eames, who is steadfastly not looking at any of them. "Seb's got access to Arthur's memories, but haphazardly; he doesn't know California. The more pissed he gets, the more he refuses any information from his brain that's not to his liking. He could get lost."
"I'd help," Eames offers, and when he looks up from the PASIV his eyes are suspiciously swollen, "but I think I'd scare him away."
Ariadne nods, and even as Cobb awkwardly says, "About that..." to Eames she tunes out and runs for the door; that's not a conversation she should be listening in on.
She thinks she sees Seb's dark head in the distance, and he's heading for the carnival; he's gone when she gets there though, and Ariadne's frustrated with herself. She suspects Seb doesn't want to be found.
There's blame to be placed somewhere for this whole situation, and Cobb's going to have a lot to answer for when this whole thing comes to a close, because it's his blindness to his own team that's causing a lot of the heartache at the moment. His confidence post-Inception was always going to lead to some sort of fall. Ariadne thinks it's just her own blindness when it comes to them all that's led to her denying just how big the repercussions such a fall could bring.
Ariadne aimlessly wanders around the stalls, looking for Seb, and then she stills - because Cobb's been wrong so much. Cobb told her Seb wouldn't use Arthur's memories, but what if Seb did? Seb hates everything about Arthur, so wouldn't Seb go somewhere Arthur hated? So that he could love it in vengeance?
She's rewarded a little when she goes to the burger van, and talks to the vendor. She tries to describe Arthur to him, and he squints at her, so she changes tack - she describes Seb, and the attitude rings a bell - the vendor remembers that he sold him a hamburger, and advises her to give him some basic etiquette lessons when she catches up with him. Ariadne thanks the vendor, listens to her gut and goes to the beach.
Where Arthur hadn't even put a toe in the water, Seb's sitting on the sand, the water lapping over his feet. There's a half-eaten bag of cotton candy by his side, and a cardboard box balanced on his knees. She takes a deep breath and crosses the sand, sitting down next to him without looking at him. She didn't bring her coat and she's regretting it; the sun is bright but the cold air is biting on her exposed forearms. Ariadne looks down at the skin, pale and with a distinctive trail of track marks from the PASIV; she rolls her sleeves down quickly, blushing a little that she looks so much like a drug addict.
She thinks of Bastian again, shoved into a dreamden to be kept out of the way, mortally addicted to the somnacin, and she doesn't hide the pain in her face when she finally looks directly at Seb.
Seb's face is all angles. Arthur's capable of some dark expressions, but this is darkness and anger settled on his face in an even harsher way than Arthur's ever managed.
It makes it easier to realize this man with Arthur's face is not Arthur at all.
Ariadne waits for him to speak. "Hi" isn't really enough in this situation, and "let my friend come back when this job is done" is selfish and will stop Seb from talking to her in the future, and she likes to hold onto at least the idea she can talk Seb into letting Arthur come back, even though it's only the most arrogant people in the world who think they can talk the world into the shape they want it, who think they can change people just by wanting them to change.
Seb doesn't talk, though, and the sea curls in, damp against her thighs. She's going to be soaked through by the time Seb says something. She pictures them still sitting there, an hour later, the sea up to their necks. Ariadne racks her brain for a non-threatening opener.
The hamburger seems a good start, especially when Seb's stomach growls. "You not eating that?"
"Apparently not." Seb flickers an indecipherable look at her before looking out at the sea. "Arthur's a vegetarian."
Ariadne opens her mouth to protest, can't think of a single time when she's seen Arthur eating meat, and she steals some of his cotton candy and squints at him when he looks disgusted with her. She chews it slowly. Once she swallows it, she'll have to talk again, and she's reluctant. "You're not too far different from Arthur," she says, eventually.
Seb tenses, and doesn't shift his gaze from the far off horizon. "What makes you say that?"
"You called Eames cute," Ariadne says.
"He's an ass."
"Arthur's used that word for him before too."
"Arthur doesn't mean it like I do." He grabs the bag of candy away from her reach. "The idea of him touching me-" Seb pretends to gag.
"You're just scared him touching you will bring Arthur to the surface." Ariadne's predetermination to come in kindly is difficult to remember with the water soaking through her pants, making her cold. From the corner of her eye she can see the stubborn lock of his jaw, a pulse standing out; he's angry, and he's frightened, and someone with empathy might be kind. But Ariadne's cold, and she's lost a friend, and good intentions have no power over temper. "Have you ever felt love?"
"Right, so this is the big speech where you say just because Arthur's in love, that I should crumple into the corner and let him completely obliterate me." Seb turns to look at her, even as Ariadne swallows bile, because there's one thing realizing Arthur's in love with Eames and there's another thing hearing it from someone else. "I hate Arthur. He's the reason I die every time Dom Cobb doesn't need me anymore. I'm the personality that gets dicked over. Bastian couldn't care less."
"Bastian-" Ariadne starts, and falters, not sure what to say next.
"You don't have a clue." Seb flings open the hamburger box. The meal is congealing already, sticking unpleasantly to the thin cardboard, grease solidifying in unappetising chunks on its bumpy surface. Ariadne does her best not to think about that same meal and what it had done to her digestive system last week.
"So tell me."
"If this is some touchy-feely method to get me to surrender-"
"-I wouldn't be trying to understand if it was," Ariadne says. "I'd be doing my best not to get to know you, so I don't run the risk of getting attached. And don't think I'm not a little pissed off that one of my best friends basically doesn't exist."
"Well, definitely don't worry your head about befriending me," Seb says. "I don't exist either. Oh, Mal and Dom did their best to try and convince me otherwise. But I know Bastian's the 'real me'."
The finger quotes are tangible. He sounds extraordinarily bitter, and Ariadne stares. She'd thought Bastian was another personality, and Seb the real one; the concept of Seb being a forge too is incredible.
The reason for it sinks in, worse than the chill of the sea pulling away and than tugging around them. "Mallorie Cobb was a real piece of work," Ariadne says, clearly and distinctly and meaning it with every part of her body.
"Mal was lovely," Seb corrects, and Ariadne fights the urge to vomit, because Mal's the constant in the situations where she's heard those words. She was lovely, Arthur told her, in that first lesson about paradoxes. Is that honestly what he thinks? Or did Mal program it into him, somehow? Ariadne knows enough about the Cobbs to know that Mal pushed at the possibilities of dreamshare, stretched it to its limits, before its limits caused her undoing. It's not beyond her. "Bastian couldn't care less, of course, when she and Dom turned up in the dream, taking on roles Bastian had dreamed up originally as a story-in-a-story. He didn't want to leave the dream. As far as he was concerned, the dream was his life. Years, he spent down there. You know the maths of the dreamscape, right?"
"Yusuf told me about the compounds and their different effects on the PASIV. With the kind of somnacin that caused your addiction, your dreamtime will have been multiplied by at least twenty times."
"So Bastian's technically, mentally lived through decades." Seb peels back a layer of bread on the burger balanced on his knees, and he wrinkles his nose at the lettuce underneath. He picks up and hurls the offending mess into the sea. Ariadne twitches, because she's conscientious about rubbish - whenever possible she recycles - but giving Seb a lecture on global responsibility is probably a tangent too far.
"So... Bastian never wanted to leave Fantasia," Ariadne says, sounding out her thoughts.
"Why would he? When all the real world has is someone who cares for you so little it's easier to trap you in what could so easily be a living nightmare than look after them." Seb shoves more candy floss in his mouth and speaks around the sticky mess. "The few times Bastian was actually at home, his mom didn't want to know. So he had to learn to sneak around."
Ariadne remembers him walking toe-to-heel. Tip-toeing. Bastian had to tiptoe around his own house. So his mom couldn't hear him. Out of hearing, out of mind?
"What kind of freaking childhood is that?" Seb asks bitterly. "Bastian would have rather died in Fantasia than come into the real world. To come back to that."
"So Mal... worked with Bastian to create... you."
"Bastian was too soft. Too hooked on his imaginary friends. Mal and Dom gave him friends that existed up here in the real world and made me angry at the people who screwed me." Seb scrabbles for more candy floss; finding the bag empty he screws it up and flings it into the water. Ariadne sits still and mentally cries for the wildlife that might get caught up in it, but if she moves she might break this spell, and she needs to understand. If Arthur's to have any hope, she needs to understand.
She can make it up to the wildlife later with a hefty percentage of the money she's still got saved up from the Fischer job. She doesn't know what she's going to do about the guilt that's going to come from pushing Seb to one side to save Arthur.
There's no amount of money that can save a mortal soul.
If Ariadne acts too guiltily now, Seb won't believe she's on his side. "So Seb is... a creation too."
"Originally. I'm as much a creature of Bastian's imagination as Arthur is. Except I became real. I'm more real," he adds, hard and bitter. "I smile and I laugh, and I enjoy this world. I don't let one stupid bad dentist experience scare me off from eating candy and I eat meat and I don't let anyone get close enough to screw me. Sure some bad things happened in the dreams when I was in control. I'm not as complicated as Arthur. I don't take up as much space in Bastian's imagination. And I'm so locked away I can't control my imagination the same way Bastian can." Seb looks concerned over that, and he jerks angrily to his feet.
Ariadne follows him up, soaking wet, trying not to look too grateful.
Seb kicks at the water, and screams at the horizon like it's entirely to blame. "I could have learned how to control my imagination. Or I could have dreamed on my own. It was stupid Mal Cobb and her stupid husband, insisting I be of use, that's what made Arthur, and now everyone prefers him." He turns, the tide splashing around his calves, and his eyes are wild and he looks so very angry.
This is anger that Arthur's not capable of. Arthur's anger is a precise thing; vindictive, calm and quiet. Seb's anger explodes all over the place. Seb created the Nothing, Ariadne realizes, her fingers clenching uselessly in the sodden fabric of her jeans. Bastian lost control, Arthur took over, and when Eames called for Bastian to come back, Seb came back in his place, and created the Nothing to kill us all.
"Even you prefer him. And Cobb. And Eames-" There's a break in Seb's voice there that just makes him angrier. "And Bastian. Bastian likes him best. Bastian's lived a full life and is quite happy for dull, boring Arthur to win. I get some of the imagination, but Arthur, oh, Arthur gets the heart and what's so freaking special about heart when I have imagination?" Seb thrusts his hands in his sweatpant pockets and shrugs. "And still, you would kill me too, quite happily, to get your Arthur back."
"Not happily," Ariadne says, surprising even herself. But for Eames and Arthur, I will, she adds mentally, and she looks at him sadly. No, the guilt for this might eat her alive, but even that price might be worth it. Seb looks surprised, but that surprise fades from his face along with the anger.
"Not that it matters. Bastian won't let me in the dream. Neither will Arthur. I'm stuck on the outside, looking in on something I have to do because otherwise the somnacin will eat my brain and sometimes-"
"Sometimes you wish it would."
"Yes. Sometimes I'd rather crash out and take the three of us out in a burn of glory. One final, permanent death with no opportunity of it happening again and again, whenever Dom Cobb thinks it's appropriate."
"Okay," Ariadne says.
"Defending him is hi- What?"
"I said okay," Ariadne says, shrugging. "That's your opinion. You're a person as much as Arthur's technically a person. If Bastian doesn't want to be in control of his body, that's fine. It's between you and Arthur. But what about Amelia?"
"What about Amelia?"
"She never asked for this. Just like you never asked for this. But the difference is... you can decide to do something about that." Ariadne tilts her head and keeps eye contact with Seb. Arthur once told her eye contact makes him feel a little shifty. Ariadne hadn't believed him, because she'd seen him maintain eye contact with hundreds of hordes of marauding projections, but she hopes it's true and she hopes Seb feels it.
Seb shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his calm clearly damaged. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"You're going to have to go back to the warehouse." Ariadne shrugs. "You're not strong enough to kill yourself or you'd have done it already; the warehouse is your best chance of a somnacin hit and Yusuf's already told me how painful it would be to die of somnacin-withdrawal."
He hasn't. It's a bluff. Arthur would know in a heartbeat. But if Ariadne didn't know it before, she knows it now; Seb's not Arthur. Arthur would never even consider killing himself unless it was to help someone else.
Like stepping through that door to save Amelia.
"And then? Do the job and get wiped out, probably permanently now your Forger's gone and gotten attached to that left-brain bore Bastian prefers? No thanks." Seb turns, and it's like it's only now he's realized where they're stood - a good distance from the boulevard, knee deep in water, the sun disappearing behind a raft of buildings in the distance.
"No," Ariadne says. "We do the job, and then you fight. Bastian won't choose you if you run away now. If you think you're equal to Arthur, then man up and show us. Don't bleat into your salt-water tears and cry about how you're so misunderstood."
Seb's eyes flash dangerously and Ariadne knows she's walking on fragile ground. But she would do more for Arthur and beyond. "And you'll make a case for me to Bastian?"
That wasn't what Ariadne was expecting. She falters as her brain stumbles over the idea. "Well, in the event, of course, well-"
"That's what I thought." Seb huffs, and starts to pick his way back to the shore. "Bastian trusts your opinion. Of course he does. Bastian's got full access to his heart, and I have none, and Arthur has some- that's how it works. And Arthur likes you. So Bastian likes you. And I can't like anyone. The bias is palpable, no?"
"I promise I will make you a fair case," Ariadne says. "I promise. Search the memories rattling around in that brain of yours. When have I ever broken a promise?"
It's clever, because Ariadne's never promised Arthur anything. She hopes like hell that Arthur or Bastian are in there somewhere, controlling the memories as best as possible, because Seb intimated that he didn't always have access to his memories and that had to be because Bastian or Arthur were holding them back. Hold back the fact that I've never made a promise, Ariadne thinks, silently willing Arthur to do it, hating herself for it at the same time. And just let him know when I've been good to you. With no betrayal over broken promises to find, he'll assume I've fulfilled them all.
The moment stretches on for so long that Ariadne's already burning with the guilt of it all. It must show on her face. It has to. And Seb'll run, killing Arthur in the process, all because she wasn't good enough, she didn't say the right thing, and-
"Never," Seb says, and he looks back out into the horizon one last time before turning back to the shore. "I guess we'd better go back."
"You go ahead."
Seb's forehead creases. "You trust me not to run?"
"I know we'd find you if you did," Ariadne says. "I've promised to make a case to Bastian on your behalf if you help Amelia. If you don't help us, I swear to god, I'll find you. And I won't have any compunction in giving you to Cobb. You might not have access to Bastian's heart, Seb. It doesn't give you any right not to have a heart of your own."
Seb looks so young then that Ariadne feels bad for being so harsh, and he swallows and ducks his head and offers her such a restrained nod that it could almost be Arthur she's stood with in the muted light of dusk, as sea water rushes around their legs. He turns and walks away, in the direction of the warehouse, and Ariadne's knees almost collapse underneath her. She waits until his dark head is far enough in the distance, and she splashes to dry land, crouching down by the railings and pressing her face into her knees.
Her face is awash with the scent of the beach, the saltwater tang bright at the back of her throat even though she's not swallowed any of the sea, and she wants to cry, but all that comes out of her throat is a thin, reedy cry. Her hands falter and clamp around the iron bars, the rust scraping her palms, and she rocks a little, because this is too much for her, this is too much. How can she even grieve the possibility of losing someone, someone walking around with her best friend's face, and how can she even be thinking of killing Seb, who's just as real, it's not his fault he's heartless, and how can she even be thinking of championing Seb to Bastian, when Eames and Arthur's hearts are part of that equation as much as anything else?
One of the vendors, mid-way through packing up his stall, comes over to check on her. The brief moment of decent human contact is enough for her to stretch to her feet. She mutters something about a dead friend, and there's such kindness in the stranger's face that Ariadne almost cries again.
Embarrassed, she thanks the man and turns, blindly walking back to the warehouse as quickly as she can, hoping Seb gets there first.
He does. He's way over in one corner of the warehouse, drying off with a ratty towel Arthur wouldn't be seen dead using when Ariadne gets into the warehouse. Unfortunately, Cobb and Eames haven't finished airing their issues as Ariadne finds out when she's drying off in the corner as best as she can with a nicer towel from one of Arthur's crates (Arthur prepares for everything) because voices carry really well in the warehouse. Usually it's a boon (because they're all pretty lazy and like to shout at each other when they need information rather than trundling over and asking politely) but it's a curse too, when trying to say something private or something secret.
Except, Ariadne wonders if Cobb held back for a reason. If maybe he's too scared of saying something flammable in case Eames blows up, so Cobb has witnesses to the inevitable incidence of violence that might occur, or if maybe Cobb or Eames thinks it's better if there's no secrets between the team. She thinks it might be the latter. Despite all of them having trouble with those tricky things known as emotions, and being clear about them, they all know how tricky their work is and they all want to give Amelia her best chance. And if that means airing out uncomfortable truths and awkward secrets, rather than them lingering under the surface of the dream, ready to upset the status quo at any time...
Well, it's probably the right thing to do.
It doesn't make it easy in the slightest.
Ariadne bows her head and buries herself in the laptop, keeping it out of Seb's scowling reach (she's had enough of bright, cheery cartoon theme tunes for a lifetime in the last few days) and pretends that she's not listening.
Eames and Cobb are halfway through their awkward conversation; at least, that's the impression Ariadne gets. Cobb's very good at asking why didn't you tell me in a thousand permutations, even though the answer tends to be it's none of your business. Besides, Eames and Cobb aren't deep conversationalists at the best of times.
This period of time could not even remotely be described as the best of times.
"You're always fighting," Cobb says, over a piece of equipment he's working on. Yusuf's very brave, Ariadne thinks, considering the number of pieces of his chemistry gear he's had to order again over the week. She understands why people have heavy conversations over another task. It's easier to speak from the heart when you're not looking someone in the eye, and if you're focusing on a sensitive piece of machinery, you can pretend you're not clawing your heart out.
Denial's practically a job requirement in their field, after all. Ariadne understands completely; it doesn't stop her from feeling bad for Yusuf's equipment.
"We disagree," Eames says, conversationally. Cobb must have meant you and Arthur are always fighting. Ariadne has never seen it as fighting. She'd always seen Arthur and Eames' relationship as kids in a playground, pigtail pulling and ridiculous insults and over-the-top misunderstandings. She guesses that she's not actually that far wrong - Eames and Arthur have trouble expressing their feelings. It makes sense. They're both overcompensating - Arthur with his specificity, Eames with his swagger and over-confidence. The bickering is just because they don't have the language to say what they mean. Is Cobb really so blind to that?
Ariadne risks a look in their direction. Cobb's looking down at Eames, a look of disbelief on his face that does clearly say he knew it wasn't proper arguing, but like Ariadne, he didn't know what it really meant. Eames isn't looking at Cobb, and thankfully isn't looking in Ariadne's direction so he doesn't see her peering curiously at them. Eames' fingers curl, like he's looking for something to put in them - a cigarette, perhaps, because of course he's still stressed beyond belief.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Cobb asks, and it can't be the first time, because he sounds tired and worn out, on the edge of tension, on the edge of giving up. "I wouldn't- You have to know, I wouldn't have let him keep this from you if I'd known- I'm not that much of a bastard."
"Sometimes you are."
The strain on Cobb's face pulls the colour from his face, shade by shade. He's probably thinking of Mal. "I like to think I'm getting better," he says, slowly, like the syllables are difficult to form in his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me?" he repeats.
When Eames does finally reply after a long moment, his voice is quiet, and strained. Like he really doesn't want to say it, but he's saying it regardless, because it needs to be said, but it's going to be something that's hard to hear. "There was nothing to tell." Eames does look up at Cobb then, and Ariadne peeks up again just in time to see his expression and he's smiling, but there's so much loathing in his face that Ariadne's stomach jumps as if she'd eaten Seb's disgusting hamburger instead of watching it float away. "Not every story is yours, Cobb," Eames adds, every syllable formed, precise and clipped.
Eames sounds terribly sad. Cobb flinches as if the words are sad, when really they're just true; although, Ariadne thinks softly, the two concepts aren't mutually exclusive. There's just too many sad truths included in this job.
"I've never said-" Cobb starts, but Eames gives him this flat look as Ariadne gives up all pretense that she's not watching avidly, and Cobb sags. He looks tense and tired. "I'm sorry," Cobb offers instead, and Eames offers back a strained, sad smile.
"Me too." Eames' smile loses a fraction of the sadness, obviously to appease Cobb a little, and Cobb mirrors the smile for a moment. "Besides," Eames adds, in that rushed tone he uses to pacify people, "There's really nothing much to tell. You know how fond Arthur is of his merry chases."
"Yeah," Cobb says, and his smile slides all the way to fond even if his eyes still hold a hint of sadness and strain. "That's pure Arthur. Never take a shortcut if you can go the long, proper way around."
"Definitely pure Arthur," Eames agrees in an equally jovial tone. "Hold back, stay upright, do things the right way. Making everything into a chase so he doesn't have to face his quarry full on, condescending to the extreme, and spending time on ensuring I know exactly how much of a fool I am."
Cobb's face falls. "Eames-" he says, stricken, like Eames' words are a blow; and why not, because that's the tool a forger has at their disposal - keen, distilled observation that can be wielded like a weapon.
"Thanks for the chat," Eames says, dropping the piece of equipment he's been pretending to work on. "I've got some work to do with Ari on the layout. Best we finish this shambles of a job so we can forget the fallout, hmm, pet?" Eames starts to move towards the floor to Ariadne; she offers him a rueful twist to her mouth instead of a smile or a frown. It's the least offensive expression in her arsenal.
"Eames," Cobb says again, like he can make the name mean a million things all at once, like I'm sorry and I didn't know and I had no idea-
"I don't care," Eames says, and he looks back at Cobb, and Ariadne doesn't have to be able to see his expression to picture it in her mind. He looks unforgiving, she thinks. He looks all angles, like Arthur can never quite manage, like Seb can when he's furious. "I'll work with you this one last time, Cobb, but I'm not hanging around to pet your ego. After this job I am done with you. No amount of pep talks or team bonding days will erase the fact that you're the most selfish, pig ignorant person I've had the misfortune to work with in my entire life. Arthur might have spelled me a fool over the last few years, but he knew he was deceiving me. You can't even see the damage you've done; it's overshadowed by your ego, and your overbearing morals - this is the world, and I can shape it into my own image. Well, the world is incredibly screwed if that's what you are capable of."
"I see," Cobb says, level, oddly brisk and professional. "Well, if that's your opinion-"
"It is."
"Then conclude your day's business and I'll contact you when we need you next."
"That would be much appreciated."
Ariadne's head aches a little at how fast the conversation turned from sounding amicable, to elegiac, to sharp anger in such a short time. She's so stunned that she doesn't really react properly when Eames does come over and pulls open the plans, pointing in where he wants his usual backdoors in the layout, and when he talks to her in his usual jovial manner, Ariadne would almost swear his blowout with Cobb hadn't just happened. But that's Eames' talent, becoming what he wants his audience to see. It takes a lot to ruffle Eames.
Although maybe it doesn't take much; he just doesn't show anyone when he is affected.
His shortcuts are simple enough, and he salutes off-centre at them as he walks out of the warehouse. The door has barely shut behind him and Seb comes over and starts to try and bitch about Eames. Ariadne cuts him off. She's not in the mood. Seb sulks, as he inevitably does when Ariadne starts to ignore him, and eventually Yusuf carts him off to the hotel they're keeping Seb in so he doesn't mess up Arthur's stuff just to spite him. They owe Yusuf about fifty trips to Starbucks for lumbering him with the job of babysitting Arthur's hostile alter-ego, and Ariadne thinks they've gotten off lightly.
Ariadne stays in the warehouse a little longer, so she's sure she's got Eames' backdoor routes in her head. He hardly looked at the map before putting them in but in usual Eames style, it's effortlessly easy to do, and the kind of shortcuts he's put in...
It's clever. If it works, it's very clever.
Eames might have been very good at pretending his blowout with Cobb didn't happen, but while Cobb is excellent under pressure, he's not very good at ignoring conflict, so when he pushes a whole pile of Ariadne's research from one of the tables, Ariadne's not too surprised. There's excess rage and emotion coming from all of them at the moment, and for a lot of it, Ariadne knows where to place the blame.
At the man cursing and picking up Ariadne's research as if it's done him personal harm.
She walks over, not hurrying, and languidly picks up some of the pages that have fluttered loose. She's not going to hurry. Ariadne's not the eager rookie desperate to please her mentor any more. She's only been dreamsharing a year, and even if she gets super paranoid about holding onto her position she does know inside herself that she's good at the tasks she's given to do.
Ariadne thinks back to the beginning of this job, and feels stupid for feeling so neurotic and paranoid. She's seen half-way decent thieves come and go on their jobs, but Cobb holds onto the good ones and uses them again, and never contacts the rubbish ones for future jobs. If Ariadne wasn't good, her ass would be back in Paris so fast her head would spin.
"I'm sorry," Cobb says, when Ariadne shuffles closer to pick up some of the more recalcitrant papers that seem to want to stick to the ground.
"For what?" Ariadne asks. "Smacking my pages out of order or for practically killing Arthur?"
Cobb looks up at her, genuine pain wiping across his face, and Ariadne doesn't soften her expression. Cobb's a grown man and does not need his ego cushioning.
"I'm sorry," Ariadne says, feeling reckless, feeling the bite of Arthur's missing sarcasm slide into her cool rage. "Did you want me to lie to you? And tell you how none of this is your fault, and you couldn't have seen any of this happening? And tell you Mal wasn't a shit to Bastian?"
Anger hardens Cobb's gaze, and he freezes. Ariadne supposes someone weak might flinch at that expression, but she knows Cobb. He'd fly off the handle at anyone for saying what she's saying... if it wasn't completely true.
"She wasn't," Cobb starts. "She didn't-" He falters, and the lie he's trying to tell falls flat. Cobb exhales hard, looks away, and then looks at Ariadne earnestly. "We were just trying to help," he finishes, awkwardly.
Ariadne looks at him wordlessly. She still can't bring herself to be calm to him, but she can give him a chance to explain. She holds out her hands for the papers in his arms. He hands them to her, never losing eye contact, and she says, simply, "Seb told me his version of events. Tell me yours."
And Cobb, to her surprise, does.
#
Cobb tells her the story after they settle down on a couple of the lawnchairs. The PASIV stays locked away - sometimes words provide all the illustrative intensity a story needs.
After Mal worked her magic on Bastian, he believed completely that he was Seb. Seb wrote The Neverending Story as part of his therapy, to accept that Bastian was a story in his head. They tried to foster Seb out to a couple of retired dreamsharers who could monitor Seb's use of the PASIV, but they checked up on him two months later to find Seb in a coma. His foster parents had gone under with Seb, and Seb's imagination had combined with his hostility to wipe them both out, repeatedly, in increasingly cruel ways. Rather than suffer it, or find a way around it, they preferred to believe that somnacin-addiction was impossible and so they'd stopped dreaming with him at all.
Horrified, Mal rescued him, in much the manner they mean to rescue Amelia. She dreamed up a maze and found Seb at the heart of it; she told him he had been lost and that she would guide him home. But even after that, when she tried to make Seb adjust to dreamsharing safely, his imagination shot out of control. So Mal came up with the idea of Arthur so that Seb could dream on his own without others there working hard to counter his violent streak.
She told Seb that if he was Arthur in the dream, then he could have more control and lead the dream. At first, it was voluntary; Seb spent so long pretending so hard to be Arthur, acting Arthur, every thought and every movement were full of what would Arthur do that the pretense became easier and easier. Seb practiced being Arthur in real life so much that in the dreamscape the control was automatic, involuntary. Eventually Seb was so good at it, Dom and Mal thought Seb was ready to dream as himself.
The first time was the X-Men incident. It nearly succeeded, until the violent end, so Mal thought he was ready to try a second time. It was a disaster. Seb panicked in the dream, thinking Mal preferred Arthur. Seb loved Mal, like she was his mother; it broke his mind apart.
When Seb woke up, he didn't have to pretend to be Arthur any more.
He just was Arthur.
Dom tried to let Seb "out" a couple of times after that; Arthur was reasonable enough about the rights of his original personality to try. On both occasions Seb refused to dream because of how traumatic that last dream had been, and he let Arthur come back voluntarily.
The last time was the week Mal died. Dom brought Seb back, because Seb was still supposed to be the primary identity, and in some way Dom thought of Seb as the real one of them all. It felt wrong to be telling the "forged" personality about Mal.
Of course, he ran when Dom told him. He disappeared as Seb, and came back as Arthur, stiff-faced and with no memory of Mal's death - Dom had to tell his best friend that Mal had died all over again. Arthur cried, the first sign of genuine emotion Dom had seen from him, and after that brief show of weakness Arthur stepped in to support Dom so thoroughly that by the end of the two years of Arthur following him around the world, Dom had all but forgotten Arthur was ever a secondary personality.
Arthur even had his own life, a little apartment in California and a circle of his own friends. The psychological split was absolute, but Dom still had it buried deep in his subconscious that it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair for Arthur to be living only part a life, and Mal would have tried her best - had she survived limbo - to give him more of a life. Arthur was reliable and professional and Dom's best friend. Dom thought as his best friend it was his duty to look after him, to try and give him access to his "real" self.
The Amelia Job was too much of a good opportunity to give up. With the team as stable as they were, he'd thought maybe now was the time to try and reintroduce Seb and Bastian to Arthur's life. To try and make him whole again. But with Seb refusing to exist in the Fantasia dream - Bastian creating Fantasia on his behalf - and Arthur-
#
Cobb breaks down at this point in the story.
Ariadne waits for him to raise his head, and she looks at his shuddering shoulders. His dialogue has made it clear he and Mal had good intentions at every step of the way, but then good intentions have always paved the way to the worst of destinations; Ariadne can't forgive him fully yet, but she's beginning to understand.
"Arthur's more real than any of them," Ariadne says, as Cobb stares at the floor, rubbing at his temples. "You have to know that."
"Now I do. Before..." Cobb shrugs helplessly. "I've spent as much time with Seb as I have with Arthur. As I have with Bastian. I was trying to... The moral argument is immense. They're all real. I just didn't know-" Cobb looks around to the door, like Eames might still be there. "I just didn't want to think about the bad parts of it, I guess."
"I talked with Seb out on the beach, earlier. He doesn't mean to give up without a fight."
"I was getting that impression."
"And one other thing." Ariadne folds her hands in her lap, awkwardly. "I know you think Mal was successful. She wasn't. Seb knows he's not the 'real' personality. He knows Bastian was first. I... got the impression he knew. He just... loved Mal enough to pretend for her." Seb didn't say that out loud, of course, but it was there, ringing in between his words, heavy and certain.
Cobb looks up at that, something flashing in his eyes. It might be guilt, or an automatic inbuilt burst to defend Mal, or something - but Ariadne's still feeling too much guilt over what she's planning to do to Seb to shoulder any of his guilt or denial as well. She hurries on.
"Seb told me Bastian basically thinks of himself as an old man who's already lived his life. Bastian's quite happy for Arthur to have the body and to never come back." Cobb twitches at that - of course Cobb would find some empathy with Bastian there, because he's lived to old age in the PASIV too. "So it's just Seb we have to worry about. Seb's not had too much time... out of the box, has he?"
"Not really," Cobb says.
"It explains a lot," Ariadne says. At Cobb's frown, she explains. "The cartoons, the candy, deliberately doing things to piss Arthur off... He's still in mental puberty."
Cobb nods.
Ariadne delivers the killing blow. "To get Arthur back, we have to basically kill a teenager."
On to part 5
Masterpost
mizzy2k
Ariadne looks over to see Cobb, to gauge his reaction, and she catches the moment he realizes what's going on, the instant he finally, finally understands.
Ariadne doesn't know what to say. "Arthur" might be what she wants to say, using his name like Mal devised, like a totem. She wants to use his name to bring him back permanently, but Arthur stepped through that door despite his feelings for Eames, despite not wanting to die, because Arthur wanted to save Amelia like Mal saved him, and Ariadne doesn't have the right to decide for him.
Cobb takes a breath, and Ariadne fights the urge to stop him, to shout out, because whatever name he chooses to say probably will decide the whole way forward. Ariadne imagines for a moment telling Amelia's parents that they're sorry, they can't help; she's much more relieved at the concept than she should be.
When he speaks, Cobb doesn't say a name. His eyes linger on the weird, half-accidental embrace between Arthur and Eames, and his voice is soft when he says, "How long?"
"Years," Arthur breathes, without tearing his gaze from Eames, and Eames, Eames who's never without a word to say, stays silent and trembles a little. Eames' mouth compresses into a line, like it's a fight to keep his emotion in check now. "Years and years."
Eames manages to straighten a little, tilting them both upright, and Arthur puts a hand on Eames' cheek, his fingers curling tentatively.
"Years and years and no time at all," Arthur says, and Eames closes his eyes for a moment and lowers his head. Arthur ducks his own head, pushing his forehead against Eames, and Arthur's fingers hold Eames' face there.
Ariadne's so sure she and Cobb shouldn't be watching this. This moment is Arthur and Eames, and isn't for intruders. But there's no time for privacy, and no time for this to be taken above, not unless they throw the whole mission aside.
And while they're all thinking it, Ariadne knows one other thing for sure - Arthur won't let them throw Amelia's chance away, not now.
"If this is all it took to get you to swoon into my arms in front of others, I'd have touched you with an audience well before now," Eames says, and his voice is light like he's teasing, but his face spells out the tension and strain clearer than any words could.
"Don't be gauche," Arthur interrupts automatically, but there's no lightness in it, not like their usually is.
"Pet-" Eames starts, but Arthur shakes his head.
"You have to say my name," Arthur whispers, and Eames flinches like he's hurt. "I couldn't live with myself if we gave up on Amelia now." His voice breaks a little when he adds, "Mal never gave up on me."
"I know." There's a terrible smile on Eames' face now, a terrible taut mockery of a smile as he breathes, "Oh, my love, I know."
Ariadne's breath catches at the endearment. From the way Arthur's eyes crease, it's not an unusual sentiment for them.
"I won't let you go without a fight, you know," Eames says, louder, more fiercely. "I won't."
Arthur's smile mirrors Eames, no amusement in it at all, but it's so much more sad on his face than terrible. "I know," Arthur says, "I'd expect nothing less." His voice is strong when he demands, again, "Say my name."
Eames nods, and his gaze drops, and he swallows. He pulls his face away from Arthur's and he carefully doesn't look at him as he tenses and says, clear and strong, "Bastian."
That's it. Nothing else. Just Bastian and Arthur changes. His face goes slack, and then there's almost fury in his eyes for a moment, and then it's pure confusion. Eames' hands are still lingering on his elbows, and Bastian stumbles back as if Eames' touch hurts him.
"Get off me," Bastian says, his eyes wide as he stares at Eames like he's the most deadly thing on the planet, and if Arthur doesn't come back after all of this, he probably will be. Bastian yanks AURYN out from his tunic again, and this time he holds it out like a weapon. His eyes are wild as he looks between the three of them.
The sounds of Fantasia start to crowd back in, but instead of the gentle, slow curve of sound that came in a crescendo up from nothing previously, all the sounds of Fantasia crash together like a wave, rolling over the top of them like an almost physical blow. Ariadne struggles to stay on her feet, and she looks at Bastian, wild-eyed and nervous. Ariadne thought Seb was the one who was 180 degrees different from Arthur, but this is Arthur without an ounce of control at all, this is Bastian, through and through, and Arthur holds his emotions tightly and Bastian is terrified.
"Keep him away from me," Bastian says, his voice pitching up, and his eyes wide with the terror. "Keep away from me."
He turns, and starts to run through the undergrowth. Ariadne watches, and looks at Cobb to follow his lead, and she freezes. Cobb's expression is curiosity and concern, and he's making no move to follow him, but that's not what causes her to freeze.
What causes her to freeze is what's coming up behind Cobb. Something Ariadne can identify without even thinking about it, because it's something that gave her nightmares as a kid for hours on end.
She turns on her heels, eyes wide with horror, but it's no use.
The Nothing is everywhere.
For something called the Nothing, it's certainly something. At first it looks like a ring of stormclouds, all coincidentally heading in their direction at the same time - but that illusion shatters quickly because of the speed of it. There's a reason it's called the Nothing, though, and Ariadne feels it down to her bones; she just feels utterly hopeless. Like there's nothing inside her, no hope, no life, no point.
Except the Nothing by nature is a terrible force and the dark, all-encompassing hurtling black cloud rushes towards them in a roar of sound and a rush of terrible, too powerful wind that knocks Ariadne's feet from the ground. She slams into the air, torn by the Nothing in every direction, and she catches a flash of Eames and Cobb being flung into opposite direction, and she screams. Her scream is ripped from her throat, and the Nothing surrounds her, thick black cloud barrelling down her throat, and she's ripped into pieces from the inside out-
-she wakes in the warehouse, gasping and grasping for her throat, blinking furiously and trying to expel the last shreds of the Nothing from her lungs even though it was all in the dream.
The warehouse seems too dark, too still, too colorless after Fantasia. She looks across as Eames and Cobb wake up. They're more graceful than her at the waking up process; Eames' jaw tightens, and Cobb blinks a couple of times. Ariadne feels ashamed of her own flailing awakening, and for the fact she clearly succumbed to the dream death before them, and then she notices something else - the empty chair.
She hurls herself out of her seat in time to see Arthur - no, she reminds herself, this is reality - she's in time to see Seb hurtle out of the main door. Her arm stings where the needles whip out of her arm. The door slams shut behind him. Ariadne whirls to see Cobb rubbing his arm, and Eames slowly winding the wires back into the PASIV.
"Best go after him," Cobb says, after a moment of looking at Eames, who is steadfastly not looking at any of them. "Seb's got access to Arthur's memories, but haphazardly; he doesn't know California. The more pissed he gets, the more he refuses any information from his brain that's not to his liking. He could get lost."
"I'd help," Eames offers, and when he looks up from the PASIV his eyes are suspiciously swollen, "but I think I'd scare him away."
Ariadne nods, and even as Cobb awkwardly says, "About that..." to Eames she tunes out and runs for the door; that's not a conversation she should be listening in on.
She thinks she sees Seb's dark head in the distance, and he's heading for the carnival; he's gone when she gets there though, and Ariadne's frustrated with herself. She suspects Seb doesn't want to be found.
There's blame to be placed somewhere for this whole situation, and Cobb's going to have a lot to answer for when this whole thing comes to a close, because it's his blindness to his own team that's causing a lot of the heartache at the moment. His confidence post-Inception was always going to lead to some sort of fall. Ariadne thinks it's just her own blindness when it comes to them all that's led to her denying just how big the repercussions such a fall could bring.
Ariadne aimlessly wanders around the stalls, looking for Seb, and then she stills - because Cobb's been wrong so much. Cobb told her Seb wouldn't use Arthur's memories, but what if Seb did? Seb hates everything about Arthur, so wouldn't Seb go somewhere Arthur hated? So that he could love it in vengeance?
She's rewarded a little when she goes to the burger van, and talks to the vendor. She tries to describe Arthur to him, and he squints at her, so she changes tack - she describes Seb, and the attitude rings a bell - the vendor remembers that he sold him a hamburger, and advises her to give him some basic etiquette lessons when she catches up with him. Ariadne thanks the vendor, listens to her gut and goes to the beach.
Where Arthur hadn't even put a toe in the water, Seb's sitting on the sand, the water lapping over his feet. There's a half-eaten bag of cotton candy by his side, and a cardboard box balanced on his knees. She takes a deep breath and crosses the sand, sitting down next to him without looking at him. She didn't bring her coat and she's regretting it; the sun is bright but the cold air is biting on her exposed forearms. Ariadne looks down at the skin, pale and with a distinctive trail of track marks from the PASIV; she rolls her sleeves down quickly, blushing a little that she looks so much like a drug addict.
She thinks of Bastian again, shoved into a dreamden to be kept out of the way, mortally addicted to the somnacin, and she doesn't hide the pain in her face when she finally looks directly at Seb.
Seb's face is all angles. Arthur's capable of some dark expressions, but this is darkness and anger settled on his face in an even harsher way than Arthur's ever managed.
It makes it easier to realize this man with Arthur's face is not Arthur at all.
Ariadne waits for him to speak. "Hi" isn't really enough in this situation, and "let my friend come back when this job is done" is selfish and will stop Seb from talking to her in the future, and she likes to hold onto at least the idea she can talk Seb into letting Arthur come back, even though it's only the most arrogant people in the world who think they can talk the world into the shape they want it, who think they can change people just by wanting them to change.
Seb doesn't talk, though, and the sea curls in, damp against her thighs. She's going to be soaked through by the time Seb says something. She pictures them still sitting there, an hour later, the sea up to their necks. Ariadne racks her brain for a non-threatening opener.
The hamburger seems a good start, especially when Seb's stomach growls. "You not eating that?"
"Apparently not." Seb flickers an indecipherable look at her before looking out at the sea. "Arthur's a vegetarian."
Ariadne opens her mouth to protest, can't think of a single time when she's seen Arthur eating meat, and she steals some of his cotton candy and squints at him when he looks disgusted with her. She chews it slowly. Once she swallows it, she'll have to talk again, and she's reluctant. "You're not too far different from Arthur," she says, eventually.
Seb tenses, and doesn't shift his gaze from the far off horizon. "What makes you say that?"
"You called Eames cute," Ariadne says.
"He's an ass."
"Arthur's used that word for him before too."
"Arthur doesn't mean it like I do." He grabs the bag of candy away from her reach. "The idea of him touching me-" Seb pretends to gag.
"You're just scared him touching you will bring Arthur to the surface." Ariadne's predetermination to come in kindly is difficult to remember with the water soaking through her pants, making her cold. From the corner of her eye she can see the stubborn lock of his jaw, a pulse standing out; he's angry, and he's frightened, and someone with empathy might be kind. But Ariadne's cold, and she's lost a friend, and good intentions have no power over temper. "Have you ever felt love?"
"Right, so this is the big speech where you say just because Arthur's in love, that I should crumple into the corner and let him completely obliterate me." Seb turns to look at her, even as Ariadne swallows bile, because there's one thing realizing Arthur's in love with Eames and there's another thing hearing it from someone else. "I hate Arthur. He's the reason I die every time Dom Cobb doesn't need me anymore. I'm the personality that gets dicked over. Bastian couldn't care less."
"Bastian-" Ariadne starts, and falters, not sure what to say next.
"You don't have a clue." Seb flings open the hamburger box. The meal is congealing already, sticking unpleasantly to the thin cardboard, grease solidifying in unappetising chunks on its bumpy surface. Ariadne does her best not to think about that same meal and what it had done to her digestive system last week.
"So tell me."
"If this is some touchy-feely method to get me to surrender-"
"-I wouldn't be trying to understand if it was," Ariadne says. "I'd be doing my best not to get to know you, so I don't run the risk of getting attached. And don't think I'm not a little pissed off that one of my best friends basically doesn't exist."
"Well, definitely don't worry your head about befriending me," Seb says. "I don't exist either. Oh, Mal and Dom did their best to try and convince me otherwise. But I know Bastian's the 'real me'."
The finger quotes are tangible. He sounds extraordinarily bitter, and Ariadne stares. She'd thought Bastian was another personality, and Seb the real one; the concept of Seb being a forge too is incredible.
The reason for it sinks in, worse than the chill of the sea pulling away and than tugging around them. "Mallorie Cobb was a real piece of work," Ariadne says, clearly and distinctly and meaning it with every part of her body.
"Mal was lovely," Seb corrects, and Ariadne fights the urge to vomit, because Mal's the constant in the situations where she's heard those words. She was lovely, Arthur told her, in that first lesson about paradoxes. Is that honestly what he thinks? Or did Mal program it into him, somehow? Ariadne knows enough about the Cobbs to know that Mal pushed at the possibilities of dreamshare, stretched it to its limits, before its limits caused her undoing. It's not beyond her. "Bastian couldn't care less, of course, when she and Dom turned up in the dream, taking on roles Bastian had dreamed up originally as a story-in-a-story. He didn't want to leave the dream. As far as he was concerned, the dream was his life. Years, he spent down there. You know the maths of the dreamscape, right?"
"Yusuf told me about the compounds and their different effects on the PASIV. With the kind of somnacin that caused your addiction, your dreamtime will have been multiplied by at least twenty times."
"So Bastian's technically, mentally lived through decades." Seb peels back a layer of bread on the burger balanced on his knees, and he wrinkles his nose at the lettuce underneath. He picks up and hurls the offending mess into the sea. Ariadne twitches, because she's conscientious about rubbish - whenever possible she recycles - but giving Seb a lecture on global responsibility is probably a tangent too far.
"So... Bastian never wanted to leave Fantasia," Ariadne says, sounding out her thoughts.
"Why would he? When all the real world has is someone who cares for you so little it's easier to trap you in what could so easily be a living nightmare than look after them." Seb shoves more candy floss in his mouth and speaks around the sticky mess. "The few times Bastian was actually at home, his mom didn't want to know. So he had to learn to sneak around."
Ariadne remembers him walking toe-to-heel. Tip-toeing. Bastian had to tiptoe around his own house. So his mom couldn't hear him. Out of hearing, out of mind?
"What kind of freaking childhood is that?" Seb asks bitterly. "Bastian would have rather died in Fantasia than come into the real world. To come back to that."
"So Mal... worked with Bastian to create... you."
"Bastian was too soft. Too hooked on his imaginary friends. Mal and Dom gave him friends that existed up here in the real world and made me angry at the people who screwed me." Seb scrabbles for more candy floss; finding the bag empty he screws it up and flings it into the water. Ariadne sits still and mentally cries for the wildlife that might get caught up in it, but if she moves she might break this spell, and she needs to understand. If Arthur's to have any hope, she needs to understand.
She can make it up to the wildlife later with a hefty percentage of the money she's still got saved up from the Fischer job. She doesn't know what she's going to do about the guilt that's going to come from pushing Seb to one side to save Arthur.
There's no amount of money that can save a mortal soul.
If Ariadne acts too guiltily now, Seb won't believe she's on his side. "So Seb is... a creation too."
"Originally. I'm as much a creature of Bastian's imagination as Arthur is. Except I became real. I'm more real," he adds, hard and bitter. "I smile and I laugh, and I enjoy this world. I don't let one stupid bad dentist experience scare me off from eating candy and I eat meat and I don't let anyone get close enough to screw me. Sure some bad things happened in the dreams when I was in control. I'm not as complicated as Arthur. I don't take up as much space in Bastian's imagination. And I'm so locked away I can't control my imagination the same way Bastian can." Seb looks concerned over that, and he jerks angrily to his feet.
Ariadne follows him up, soaking wet, trying not to look too grateful.
Seb kicks at the water, and screams at the horizon like it's entirely to blame. "I could have learned how to control my imagination. Or I could have dreamed on my own. It was stupid Mal Cobb and her stupid husband, insisting I be of use, that's what made Arthur, and now everyone prefers him." He turns, the tide splashing around his calves, and his eyes are wild and he looks so very angry.
This is anger that Arthur's not capable of. Arthur's anger is a precise thing; vindictive, calm and quiet. Seb's anger explodes all over the place. Seb created the Nothing, Ariadne realizes, her fingers clenching uselessly in the sodden fabric of her jeans. Bastian lost control, Arthur took over, and when Eames called for Bastian to come back, Seb came back in his place, and created the Nothing to kill us all.
"Even you prefer him. And Cobb. And Eames-" There's a break in Seb's voice there that just makes him angrier. "And Bastian. Bastian likes him best. Bastian's lived a full life and is quite happy for dull, boring Arthur to win. I get some of the imagination, but Arthur, oh, Arthur gets the heart and what's so freaking special about heart when I have imagination?" Seb thrusts his hands in his sweatpant pockets and shrugs. "And still, you would kill me too, quite happily, to get your Arthur back."
"Not happily," Ariadne says, surprising even herself. But for Eames and Arthur, I will, she adds mentally, and she looks at him sadly. No, the guilt for this might eat her alive, but even that price might be worth it. Seb looks surprised, but that surprise fades from his face along with the anger.
"Not that it matters. Bastian won't let me in the dream. Neither will Arthur. I'm stuck on the outside, looking in on something I have to do because otherwise the somnacin will eat my brain and sometimes-"
"Sometimes you wish it would."
"Yes. Sometimes I'd rather crash out and take the three of us out in a burn of glory. One final, permanent death with no opportunity of it happening again and again, whenever Dom Cobb thinks it's appropriate."
"Okay," Ariadne says.
"Defending him is hi- What?"
"I said okay," Ariadne says, shrugging. "That's your opinion. You're a person as much as Arthur's technically a person. If Bastian doesn't want to be in control of his body, that's fine. It's between you and Arthur. But what about Amelia?"
"What about Amelia?"
"She never asked for this. Just like you never asked for this. But the difference is... you can decide to do something about that." Ariadne tilts her head and keeps eye contact with Seb. Arthur once told her eye contact makes him feel a little shifty. Ariadne hadn't believed him, because she'd seen him maintain eye contact with hundreds of hordes of marauding projections, but she hopes it's true and she hopes Seb feels it.
Seb shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his calm clearly damaged. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"You're going to have to go back to the warehouse." Ariadne shrugs. "You're not strong enough to kill yourself or you'd have done it already; the warehouse is your best chance of a somnacin hit and Yusuf's already told me how painful it would be to die of somnacin-withdrawal."
He hasn't. It's a bluff. Arthur would know in a heartbeat. But if Ariadne didn't know it before, she knows it now; Seb's not Arthur. Arthur would never even consider killing himself unless it was to help someone else.
Like stepping through that door to save Amelia.
"And then? Do the job and get wiped out, probably permanently now your Forger's gone and gotten attached to that left-brain bore Bastian prefers? No thanks." Seb turns, and it's like it's only now he's realized where they're stood - a good distance from the boulevard, knee deep in water, the sun disappearing behind a raft of buildings in the distance.
"No," Ariadne says. "We do the job, and then you fight. Bastian won't choose you if you run away now. If you think you're equal to Arthur, then man up and show us. Don't bleat into your salt-water tears and cry about how you're so misunderstood."
Seb's eyes flash dangerously and Ariadne knows she's walking on fragile ground. But she would do more for Arthur and beyond. "And you'll make a case for me to Bastian?"
That wasn't what Ariadne was expecting. She falters as her brain stumbles over the idea. "Well, in the event, of course, well-"
"That's what I thought." Seb huffs, and starts to pick his way back to the shore. "Bastian trusts your opinion. Of course he does. Bastian's got full access to his heart, and I have none, and Arthur has some- that's how it works. And Arthur likes you. So Bastian likes you. And I can't like anyone. The bias is palpable, no?"
"I promise I will make you a fair case," Ariadne says. "I promise. Search the memories rattling around in that brain of yours. When have I ever broken a promise?"
It's clever, because Ariadne's never promised Arthur anything. She hopes like hell that Arthur or Bastian are in there somewhere, controlling the memories as best as possible, because Seb intimated that he didn't always have access to his memories and that had to be because Bastian or Arthur were holding them back. Hold back the fact that I've never made a promise, Ariadne thinks, silently willing Arthur to do it, hating herself for it at the same time. And just let him know when I've been good to you. With no betrayal over broken promises to find, he'll assume I've fulfilled them all.
The moment stretches on for so long that Ariadne's already burning with the guilt of it all. It must show on her face. It has to. And Seb'll run, killing Arthur in the process, all because she wasn't good enough, she didn't say the right thing, and-
"Never," Seb says, and he looks back out into the horizon one last time before turning back to the shore. "I guess we'd better go back."
"You go ahead."
Seb's forehead creases. "You trust me not to run?"
"I know we'd find you if you did," Ariadne says. "I've promised to make a case to Bastian on your behalf if you help Amelia. If you don't help us, I swear to god, I'll find you. And I won't have any compunction in giving you to Cobb. You might not have access to Bastian's heart, Seb. It doesn't give you any right not to have a heart of your own."
Seb looks so young then that Ariadne feels bad for being so harsh, and he swallows and ducks his head and offers her such a restrained nod that it could almost be Arthur she's stood with in the muted light of dusk, as sea water rushes around their legs. He turns and walks away, in the direction of the warehouse, and Ariadne's knees almost collapse underneath her. She waits until his dark head is far enough in the distance, and she splashes to dry land, crouching down by the railings and pressing her face into her knees.
Her face is awash with the scent of the beach, the saltwater tang bright at the back of her throat even though she's not swallowed any of the sea, and she wants to cry, but all that comes out of her throat is a thin, reedy cry. Her hands falter and clamp around the iron bars, the rust scraping her palms, and she rocks a little, because this is too much for her, this is too much. How can she even grieve the possibility of losing someone, someone walking around with her best friend's face, and how can she even be thinking of killing Seb, who's just as real, it's not his fault he's heartless, and how can she even be thinking of championing Seb to Bastian, when Eames and Arthur's hearts are part of that equation as much as anything else?
One of the vendors, mid-way through packing up his stall, comes over to check on her. The brief moment of decent human contact is enough for her to stretch to her feet. She mutters something about a dead friend, and there's such kindness in the stranger's face that Ariadne almost cries again.
Embarrassed, she thanks the man and turns, blindly walking back to the warehouse as quickly as she can, hoping Seb gets there first.
He does. He's way over in one corner of the warehouse, drying off with a ratty towel Arthur wouldn't be seen dead using when Ariadne gets into the warehouse. Unfortunately, Cobb and Eames haven't finished airing their issues as Ariadne finds out when she's drying off in the corner as best as she can with a nicer towel from one of Arthur's crates (Arthur prepares for everything) because voices carry really well in the warehouse. Usually it's a boon (because they're all pretty lazy and like to shout at each other when they need information rather than trundling over and asking politely) but it's a curse too, when trying to say something private or something secret.
Except, Ariadne wonders if Cobb held back for a reason. If maybe he's too scared of saying something flammable in case Eames blows up, so Cobb has witnesses to the inevitable incidence of violence that might occur, or if maybe Cobb or Eames thinks it's better if there's no secrets between the team. She thinks it might be the latter. Despite all of them having trouble with those tricky things known as emotions, and being clear about them, they all know how tricky their work is and they all want to give Amelia her best chance. And if that means airing out uncomfortable truths and awkward secrets, rather than them lingering under the surface of the dream, ready to upset the status quo at any time...
Well, it's probably the right thing to do.
It doesn't make it easy in the slightest.
Ariadne bows her head and buries herself in the laptop, keeping it out of Seb's scowling reach (she's had enough of bright, cheery cartoon theme tunes for a lifetime in the last few days) and pretends that she's not listening.
Eames and Cobb are halfway through their awkward conversation; at least, that's the impression Ariadne gets. Cobb's very good at asking why didn't you tell me in a thousand permutations, even though the answer tends to be it's none of your business. Besides, Eames and Cobb aren't deep conversationalists at the best of times.
This period of time could not even remotely be described as the best of times.
"You're always fighting," Cobb says, over a piece of equipment he's working on. Yusuf's very brave, Ariadne thinks, considering the number of pieces of his chemistry gear he's had to order again over the week. She understands why people have heavy conversations over another task. It's easier to speak from the heart when you're not looking someone in the eye, and if you're focusing on a sensitive piece of machinery, you can pretend you're not clawing your heart out.
Denial's practically a job requirement in their field, after all. Ariadne understands completely; it doesn't stop her from feeling bad for Yusuf's equipment.
"We disagree," Eames says, conversationally. Cobb must have meant you and Arthur are always fighting. Ariadne has never seen it as fighting. She'd always seen Arthur and Eames' relationship as kids in a playground, pigtail pulling and ridiculous insults and over-the-top misunderstandings. She guesses that she's not actually that far wrong - Eames and Arthur have trouble expressing their feelings. It makes sense. They're both overcompensating - Arthur with his specificity, Eames with his swagger and over-confidence. The bickering is just because they don't have the language to say what they mean. Is Cobb really so blind to that?
Ariadne risks a look in their direction. Cobb's looking down at Eames, a look of disbelief on his face that does clearly say he knew it wasn't proper arguing, but like Ariadne, he didn't know what it really meant. Eames isn't looking at Cobb, and thankfully isn't looking in Ariadne's direction so he doesn't see her peering curiously at them. Eames' fingers curl, like he's looking for something to put in them - a cigarette, perhaps, because of course he's still stressed beyond belief.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Cobb asks, and it can't be the first time, because he sounds tired and worn out, on the edge of tension, on the edge of giving up. "I wouldn't- You have to know, I wouldn't have let him keep this from you if I'd known- I'm not that much of a bastard."
"Sometimes you are."
The strain on Cobb's face pulls the colour from his face, shade by shade. He's probably thinking of Mal. "I like to think I'm getting better," he says, slowly, like the syllables are difficult to form in his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me?" he repeats.
When Eames does finally reply after a long moment, his voice is quiet, and strained. Like he really doesn't want to say it, but he's saying it regardless, because it needs to be said, but it's going to be something that's hard to hear. "There was nothing to tell." Eames does look up at Cobb then, and Ariadne peeks up again just in time to see his expression and he's smiling, but there's so much loathing in his face that Ariadne's stomach jumps as if she'd eaten Seb's disgusting hamburger instead of watching it float away. "Not every story is yours, Cobb," Eames adds, every syllable formed, precise and clipped.
Eames sounds terribly sad. Cobb flinches as if the words are sad, when really they're just true; although, Ariadne thinks softly, the two concepts aren't mutually exclusive. There's just too many sad truths included in this job.
"I've never said-" Cobb starts, but Eames gives him this flat look as Ariadne gives up all pretense that she's not watching avidly, and Cobb sags. He looks tense and tired. "I'm sorry," Cobb offers instead, and Eames offers back a strained, sad smile.
"Me too." Eames' smile loses a fraction of the sadness, obviously to appease Cobb a little, and Cobb mirrors the smile for a moment. "Besides," Eames adds, in that rushed tone he uses to pacify people, "There's really nothing much to tell. You know how fond Arthur is of his merry chases."
"Yeah," Cobb says, and his smile slides all the way to fond even if his eyes still hold a hint of sadness and strain. "That's pure Arthur. Never take a shortcut if you can go the long, proper way around."
"Definitely pure Arthur," Eames agrees in an equally jovial tone. "Hold back, stay upright, do things the right way. Making everything into a chase so he doesn't have to face his quarry full on, condescending to the extreme, and spending time on ensuring I know exactly how much of a fool I am."
Cobb's face falls. "Eames-" he says, stricken, like Eames' words are a blow; and why not, because that's the tool a forger has at their disposal - keen, distilled observation that can be wielded like a weapon.
"Thanks for the chat," Eames says, dropping the piece of equipment he's been pretending to work on. "I've got some work to do with Ari on the layout. Best we finish this shambles of a job so we can forget the fallout, hmm, pet?" Eames starts to move towards the floor to Ariadne; she offers him a rueful twist to her mouth instead of a smile or a frown. It's the least offensive expression in her arsenal.
"Eames," Cobb says again, like he can make the name mean a million things all at once, like I'm sorry and I didn't know and I had no idea-
"I don't care," Eames says, and he looks back at Cobb, and Ariadne doesn't have to be able to see his expression to picture it in her mind. He looks unforgiving, she thinks. He looks all angles, like Arthur can never quite manage, like Seb can when he's furious. "I'll work with you this one last time, Cobb, but I'm not hanging around to pet your ego. After this job I am done with you. No amount of pep talks or team bonding days will erase the fact that you're the most selfish, pig ignorant person I've had the misfortune to work with in my entire life. Arthur might have spelled me a fool over the last few years, but he knew he was deceiving me. You can't even see the damage you've done; it's overshadowed by your ego, and your overbearing morals - this is the world, and I can shape it into my own image. Well, the world is incredibly screwed if that's what you are capable of."
"I see," Cobb says, level, oddly brisk and professional. "Well, if that's your opinion-"
"It is."
"Then conclude your day's business and I'll contact you when we need you next."
"That would be much appreciated."
Ariadne's head aches a little at how fast the conversation turned from sounding amicable, to elegiac, to sharp anger in such a short time. She's so stunned that she doesn't really react properly when Eames does come over and pulls open the plans, pointing in where he wants his usual backdoors in the layout, and when he talks to her in his usual jovial manner, Ariadne would almost swear his blowout with Cobb hadn't just happened. But that's Eames' talent, becoming what he wants his audience to see. It takes a lot to ruffle Eames.
Although maybe it doesn't take much; he just doesn't show anyone when he is affected.
His shortcuts are simple enough, and he salutes off-centre at them as he walks out of the warehouse. The door has barely shut behind him and Seb comes over and starts to try and bitch about Eames. Ariadne cuts him off. She's not in the mood. Seb sulks, as he inevitably does when Ariadne starts to ignore him, and eventually Yusuf carts him off to the hotel they're keeping Seb in so he doesn't mess up Arthur's stuff just to spite him. They owe Yusuf about fifty trips to Starbucks for lumbering him with the job of babysitting Arthur's hostile alter-ego, and Ariadne thinks they've gotten off lightly.
Ariadne stays in the warehouse a little longer, so she's sure she's got Eames' backdoor routes in her head. He hardly looked at the map before putting them in but in usual Eames style, it's effortlessly easy to do, and the kind of shortcuts he's put in...
It's clever. If it works, it's very clever.
Eames might have been very good at pretending his blowout with Cobb didn't happen, but while Cobb is excellent under pressure, he's not very good at ignoring conflict, so when he pushes a whole pile of Ariadne's research from one of the tables, Ariadne's not too surprised. There's excess rage and emotion coming from all of them at the moment, and for a lot of it, Ariadne knows where to place the blame.
At the man cursing and picking up Ariadne's research as if it's done him personal harm.
She walks over, not hurrying, and languidly picks up some of the pages that have fluttered loose. She's not going to hurry. Ariadne's not the eager rookie desperate to please her mentor any more. She's only been dreamsharing a year, and even if she gets super paranoid about holding onto her position she does know inside herself that she's good at the tasks she's given to do.
Ariadne thinks back to the beginning of this job, and feels stupid for feeling so neurotic and paranoid. She's seen half-way decent thieves come and go on their jobs, but Cobb holds onto the good ones and uses them again, and never contacts the rubbish ones for future jobs. If Ariadne wasn't good, her ass would be back in Paris so fast her head would spin.
"I'm sorry," Cobb says, when Ariadne shuffles closer to pick up some of the more recalcitrant papers that seem to want to stick to the ground.
"For what?" Ariadne asks. "Smacking my pages out of order or for practically killing Arthur?"
Cobb looks up at her, genuine pain wiping across his face, and Ariadne doesn't soften her expression. Cobb's a grown man and does not need his ego cushioning.
"I'm sorry," Ariadne says, feeling reckless, feeling the bite of Arthur's missing sarcasm slide into her cool rage. "Did you want me to lie to you? And tell you how none of this is your fault, and you couldn't have seen any of this happening? And tell you Mal wasn't a shit to Bastian?"
Anger hardens Cobb's gaze, and he freezes. Ariadne supposes someone weak might flinch at that expression, but she knows Cobb. He'd fly off the handle at anyone for saying what she's saying... if it wasn't completely true.
"She wasn't," Cobb starts. "She didn't-" He falters, and the lie he's trying to tell falls flat. Cobb exhales hard, looks away, and then looks at Ariadne earnestly. "We were just trying to help," he finishes, awkwardly.
Ariadne looks at him wordlessly. She still can't bring herself to be calm to him, but she can give him a chance to explain. She holds out her hands for the papers in his arms. He hands them to her, never losing eye contact, and she says, simply, "Seb told me his version of events. Tell me yours."
And Cobb, to her surprise, does.
#
Cobb tells her the story after they settle down on a couple of the lawnchairs. The PASIV stays locked away - sometimes words provide all the illustrative intensity a story needs.
After Mal worked her magic on Bastian, he believed completely that he was Seb. Seb wrote The Neverending Story as part of his therapy, to accept that Bastian was a story in his head. They tried to foster Seb out to a couple of retired dreamsharers who could monitor Seb's use of the PASIV, but they checked up on him two months later to find Seb in a coma. His foster parents had gone under with Seb, and Seb's imagination had combined with his hostility to wipe them both out, repeatedly, in increasingly cruel ways. Rather than suffer it, or find a way around it, they preferred to believe that somnacin-addiction was impossible and so they'd stopped dreaming with him at all.
Horrified, Mal rescued him, in much the manner they mean to rescue Amelia. She dreamed up a maze and found Seb at the heart of it; she told him he had been lost and that she would guide him home. But even after that, when she tried to make Seb adjust to dreamsharing safely, his imagination shot out of control. So Mal came up with the idea of Arthur so that Seb could dream on his own without others there working hard to counter his violent streak.
She told Seb that if he was Arthur in the dream, then he could have more control and lead the dream. At first, it was voluntary; Seb spent so long pretending so hard to be Arthur, acting Arthur, every thought and every movement were full of what would Arthur do that the pretense became easier and easier. Seb practiced being Arthur in real life so much that in the dreamscape the control was automatic, involuntary. Eventually Seb was so good at it, Dom and Mal thought Seb was ready to dream as himself.
The first time was the X-Men incident. It nearly succeeded, until the violent end, so Mal thought he was ready to try a second time. It was a disaster. Seb panicked in the dream, thinking Mal preferred Arthur. Seb loved Mal, like she was his mother; it broke his mind apart.
When Seb woke up, he didn't have to pretend to be Arthur any more.
He just was Arthur.
Dom tried to let Seb "out" a couple of times after that; Arthur was reasonable enough about the rights of his original personality to try. On both occasions Seb refused to dream because of how traumatic that last dream had been, and he let Arthur come back voluntarily.
The last time was the week Mal died. Dom brought Seb back, because Seb was still supposed to be the primary identity, and in some way Dom thought of Seb as the real one of them all. It felt wrong to be telling the "forged" personality about Mal.
Of course, he ran when Dom told him. He disappeared as Seb, and came back as Arthur, stiff-faced and with no memory of Mal's death - Dom had to tell his best friend that Mal had died all over again. Arthur cried, the first sign of genuine emotion Dom had seen from him, and after that brief show of weakness Arthur stepped in to support Dom so thoroughly that by the end of the two years of Arthur following him around the world, Dom had all but forgotten Arthur was ever a secondary personality.
Arthur even had his own life, a little apartment in California and a circle of his own friends. The psychological split was absolute, but Dom still had it buried deep in his subconscious that it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair for Arthur to be living only part a life, and Mal would have tried her best - had she survived limbo - to give him more of a life. Arthur was reliable and professional and Dom's best friend. Dom thought as his best friend it was his duty to look after him, to try and give him access to his "real" self.
The Amelia Job was too much of a good opportunity to give up. With the team as stable as they were, he'd thought maybe now was the time to try and reintroduce Seb and Bastian to Arthur's life. To try and make him whole again. But with Seb refusing to exist in the Fantasia dream - Bastian creating Fantasia on his behalf - and Arthur-
#
Cobb breaks down at this point in the story.
Ariadne waits for him to raise his head, and she looks at his shuddering shoulders. His dialogue has made it clear he and Mal had good intentions at every step of the way, but then good intentions have always paved the way to the worst of destinations; Ariadne can't forgive him fully yet, but she's beginning to understand.
"Arthur's more real than any of them," Ariadne says, as Cobb stares at the floor, rubbing at his temples. "You have to know that."
"Now I do. Before..." Cobb shrugs helplessly. "I've spent as much time with Seb as I have with Arthur. As I have with Bastian. I was trying to... The moral argument is immense. They're all real. I just didn't know-" Cobb looks around to the door, like Eames might still be there. "I just didn't want to think about the bad parts of it, I guess."
"I talked with Seb out on the beach, earlier. He doesn't mean to give up without a fight."
"I was getting that impression."
"And one other thing." Ariadne folds her hands in her lap, awkwardly. "I know you think Mal was successful. She wasn't. Seb knows he's not the 'real' personality. He knows Bastian was first. I... got the impression he knew. He just... loved Mal enough to pretend for her." Seb didn't say that out loud, of course, but it was there, ringing in between his words, heavy and certain.
Cobb looks up at that, something flashing in his eyes. It might be guilt, or an automatic inbuilt burst to defend Mal, or something - but Ariadne's still feeling too much guilt over what she's planning to do to Seb to shoulder any of his guilt or denial as well. She hurries on.
"Seb told me Bastian basically thinks of himself as an old man who's already lived his life. Bastian's quite happy for Arthur to have the body and to never come back." Cobb twitches at that - of course Cobb would find some empathy with Bastian there, because he's lived to old age in the PASIV too. "So it's just Seb we have to worry about. Seb's not had too much time... out of the box, has he?"
"Not really," Cobb says.
"It explains a lot," Ariadne says. At Cobb's frown, she explains. "The cartoons, the candy, deliberately doing things to piss Arthur off... He's still in mental puberty."
Cobb nods.
Ariadne delivers the killing blow. "To get Arthur back, we have to basically kill a teenager."
On to part 5
Masterpost