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fae_boleyn) wrote2011-01-21 12:51 am
Ghost of a Rose: Part Two
Fandom: Inception
Rating: R, for language.
Pairings: one-sided Arthur/Cobb/Mal, Arthur/Cobb (after a fashion), Ariadne/Eames, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Summary: In which there is more than one way to be the abandoned half of a whole, and it's just as wrenching even when the bonds are different. Or, Cobb's not the only one with a Shade.
Author's Note: Um... Yeah. So, this began as an exercise in seeing if it was possible to write a non-psychotic shade, and it turned into something that's partly that, part character study, and... I'm not sure what else? Also, this is my longest oneshot (well, it was supposed to be a oneshot...) to date.
The Memories Remain
How the time passed away, all the trouble that we gave
And all those days we spent out by the lake
Has it all gone to waste?
All the promises we made
One by one they vanish just the same
Of all the things I still remember
Summer's never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain... – September, Daughtry
Arthur moves to Philadelphia on a whim. It's a city he's actually never been to, not once, and he finds that he likes it. He lives in an apartment building and moves in just in time for baseball season to start. His next-door neighbor is a bright-eyed twenty-something named Liv who says she hates sports but loves her Phillies, blaming it on a grandfather who was mad for the team. She has several of the other tenants over to watch the games – she finally managed to clinch a deal for her first novel and blew a small chunk of the advance on an HD television. Arthur finds himself offered an invite, complete with orders to bring something. He has absolutely no idea what he should bring, but a case of soda and a case of beer sounds good. It works out fairly well.
It's true what they say about Philadelphia sports fans, they really are crazy. Liv grins at him when he comments on this. “We're just loyal, nothing wrong with that.” If Arthur's heart wasn't pretty firmly set elsewhere – even if that's his little secret – he might find himself falling for Liv with her sarcastic humor and devil-may-care approach to life. Of course, when she introduces him to her girlfriend, that's another reason not to be interested.
Arthur falls into civilian life and it's oddly relaxing. He checks out all the tourist sites, even the ones geared toward the younger set, and discovers the local pleasures of cheesesteaks and the pastries made by the Tastykake company. He doesn't need to work, so he doesn't. His neighbors have decided he's some eccentric rich boy slumming it and rag on him for it, mostly affectionately. He doesn't correct them.
It's all minor things, the sort of everyday life he'd occasionally dreamed about as a kid. That was before Aubrey's dreams of country music stardom – or being hit rock stars, she wasn't picky and Arthur could play either style – enveloped him as well. He'd just wanted to be a normal guy, who was friendly with his neighbors and who didn't have to come home to broken drug vials or occasionally evade a john who was more interested in a pretty boy than the aging whore he'd paid for.
There's only two things missing from this version of his childish dreams. He'd imagined then that Aubrey would have her own place but would visit all the time, and he'd hoped to have someone in his life, someone he loved who loved him back. Arthur's aware that he may have thrown away a chance at the second by vanishing into domestic life, but he'd had to do it.
Arthur has a box that goes with him everywhere. It has Aubrey's things in it, and his things that reminded him of her. Not clothes, that would be too creepy, but other things. He's carried it around for thirteen years, and not opened it once. Four months after moving to Philly he sits cross-legged on his living room floor, the radio playing quietly in the background. 92.5 XTU, the country station, because he likes the music even now and it seems appropriate. The box is in front of him and he stares at it, unable to move.
Finally he takes the lid off, looking inside. For the most part, it's exactly what you'd expect from the leftovers of a teenage girl's life; cheap jewelry, a strip of photos from one of those photo booths at the mall, that sort of thing. There's a charm bracelet Arthur bought her for Christmas one year with money from his job at a local movie, sitting on top of the little box of guitar picks she bought him the same year. Because some of his things are in here too, the things he had to lock away when she died.
Arthur pulls out the strip of photos, but instead of the wrenching pain he expects to feel, looking at it, he smiles. It's bittersweet, but there's something about the happiness of the teenagers in the pictures, pulling silly faces for most of them, that makes him unable to do anything else. He remembers that day clear as if it were yesterday. He'd gotten off work and they'd decided to sneak into a movie, just for fun. Afterwards, they wandered the mall, until Aubrey dragged him into the booth. She'd had to poke and prod him to make faces, but looking at the result, Arthur thinks she was right. It was worth it.
The notebooks are at the bottom of the box. Aubrey's have pages and pages of lyrics, his are all musical notes. Of course, some of them have her spiky handwriting above his melodies, but there are still plenty that aren't matched together yet. They didn't have time for it. Still, looking at the pages, he can remember sitting together and deciding how to put their songs together, talking about how they were going to be great, they were going to make it. Despite everything, the memories are good ones.
After he goes through the box, Arthur finds himself going for walks a lot. His neighborhood's a decent one, and he can take care of himself anyway, so he doesn't worry about running into trouble. It helps him think. The fact is, the real Aubrey would be furious with what happened to him, with the way he shut himself away for so long. She probably would have shot Cobb in reality, during that screwed-up affair or whatever it was, and would have been seriously upset by Arthur's projection of her.
Of course, she would also have locked him in a closet with Eames and/or Ariadne. Probably and. The thought of it, when he's in Fairmount Park one day, makes him have to bite back an honest-to-God laugh. Because he can just see it. A moment later the familiar pang hits, but that's all right, or it's starting to be. Honestly, he's always going to miss her, always going to feel like there's a part of him missing, because there is. But that doesn't mean he can't think about what she might have done, or remember the good times they actually had.
It's an idea that's been a long time coming. Even after projection Aubrey showed up, Arthur pushed back memories of the real one. It was easier, certainly, but this, in the end, is better. At least he thinks so. He can remember reality, not cling to an illusion. And it hurts, sure, but it's like having a broken bone set. A good hurt, in that it's the start of healing.
Arthur doesn't work for seven months. He doesn't do research, doesn't wear a suit because there's no clients to meet, and most importantly, he doesn't use the PASIV, though it stays in his bedroom closet. He doesn't want to see projection Aubrey again, because he's not sure if it would make things worse or finally blur the last lines between dream and reality.
But at the end of those seven months, he goes under. He goes under and he walks around his dream – it's Venice, almost a recreation of a dreamscape he once worked with Eames in, and when he goes into one of the palazzos he finds that there's a set of Penrose steps just like the ones he showed Ariadne. There's other things too that remind him of various people in his life, but there's no projection in a red jacket, or a red shirt, flashing a smile that he knows so well, looking at him with eyes identical to his own.
It's comforting but it's a blow as well, because he'd gotten used to her. His projection of Aubrey has been the only constant since the real Aubrey died, the only reliable thing in his life. But this is what he'd wanted, what he needed. And it's not fair to carry around a ghost who is only a shadow of what Aubrey was and could have been, not for his own comfort.
He comes out of the dream feeling strange, but not exactly unhappy. It's going to be all right. Somehow, he finally believes that, for the first time since he watched them lower his sister's coffin into the ground.
Finding New Horizons
Standing on the border
Looking out onto the great unknown
I can feel my heart beating faster as I step out on my own
There's a new horizon
And the promise of a favorable wind
I'm heading out tonight, traveling light
I'm gonna start all over again – One Way Ticket (Because I Can), LeAnn Rimes
Arthur puts himself back together in Philadelphia, but at the same time, Eames and Ariadne fumble their way into a relationship in London. It's not something either of them expected, or anything that they knew they were looking for, but it works. Somehow, it works. And if both of them sometimes feel like they're missing something, well, they don't know what it is so they ignore it.
They see Arthur again nine months after the Fischer job. Saito's hired the three of them – again – this time for a simple extraction. Ariadne and Eames arrive to find Saito talking with a very familiar man in a three-piece suit. However, neither of them are expecting the genuine smile that flashes across Arthur's face when he looks over and sees them. Arthur never smiles, probably to keep his dimples from showing, but there it is, for a brief second. Ariadne thinks it's odd, Eames wonders what's changed in nine months, because something about Arthur is very different and it's not just the smile.
Arthur, meanwhile, can't deny how glad he is to see them again. He knows they're together – he and Ariadne have kept in touch by e-mail, off and on – so it's not a surprise when he sees them. Is he jealous? Sure, but he made his choices, and they were the right ones. That doesn't mean he's not secretly happy when Ariadne hugs him.
“God, Arthur, it's good to see you. You never said where you were all these months,” Ariadne says, giving him a mock glare. Arthur shrugs.
“I was in Philadelphia, taking some time off.”
“You, taking time off?” Eames quips. “Are you sure you're Arthur?”
“It's good to see you too, Eames,” Arthur deadpans, even though he means it.
Saito can't quite hide his amusement; there was one advantage to being the tourist, at least in the planning stages. It had given him a front-row seat to watch the interactions of the various dream workers, and these three were always particularly entertaining. Still, he clears his throat to get them all back to business, and quickly finishes outlining the situation.
After Saito leaves, Arthur yanks at his tie, undoing it and tossing it carelessly in his bag. He glances up to see Ariadne and Eames staring at him. “What?” It's not like he wears three-piece suits all the time; he barely ever did during the prep for the Fischer job and he knows that his ties were often a little crooked. So why are they looking at him like that?
“It's just... It's you. You don't always wear suits, but you always seem so comfortable in them,” Ariadne says, frowning at him like he's an unusual blueprint. “That didn't look comfortable.”
Arthur shrugs a little self-consciously. “I haven't worn ties in a while,” he says finally. It sounds ridiculous, but what else is he supposed to say to that?
They're going to be working out of London, since Ariadne and Eames have a flat there. Arthur finds an old storefront – a bookstore, based off all the old books piled haphazardly in a back room – with a small loft above it, and suggests they take the downstairs as a workshop. “And if you two don't mind, I thought I could stay in the apartment above it,” he adds. They don't, so Arthur buys a camp bed and sets up in there. He's not really expecting to move in permanently, but then Eames sticks his head in the door one day and looks around in bewilderment.
“I thought you were moving in here?” he asks, frowning at Arthur.
“It's just for the job, right?” Arthur says, giving Eames his own look of confusion.
“Well, actually... That is, Ari and I were hoping you'd stick around a little longer. The three of us could take extraction by storm, don't you think?”
Arthur does, but part of him wonders if it's a good idea to stay with them, to be on the outside, again. Especially when it's different; the way he was drawn to Dom and Mal feels like nothing compared to the pull Ariadne and Eames could have on him if he lets it happen. Still, he feels comfortable with them despite that, in a way he hasn't been with anyone since... Well. Since before his sister died. It's not the same type of feelings, not at all, but that part is the same. He can't just throw that away.
“I didn't know that,” he says finally, rather lamely, he thinks.
“Well, now you do. So, how about it?”
“It's worth a shot,” Arthur says, with a wry grin, remembering the last time he used that phrase, with Ariadne in level two of the Fischer job.
So after the job for Saito is complete, Arthur goes back to Philadelphia to pack up his apartment. Liv and her girlfriend Emma offer to help him pack, and since he's already taken care of the questionable things, he lets them. Emma's a sweetheart with a Southern drawl that makes him slip a little into the accent from his Baton Rouge childhood, to their amusement. Liv promises to mail him Tastykakes when they're on sale if he gives her an address. He knows he won't, but appreciates the offer regardless. They both make him take a Phillies hat, and he rolls his eyes, but when he settles into his new apartment, the cap winds up hanging off of a random hook in his bedroom wall. He's not sure what the hook's actual function is, so why not?
The biggest change is what he hangs on the walls. Arthur's always liked photos, he takes them when he has the time. Mostly they're saved on his computer, but since he's going to be here for the foreseeable future, he prints out some of his favorites, gets frames, and hangs them up. But one of them isn't one he's taken. It sits on the small bedside table he has, a blown up copy of the last of that strip of photos with Aubrey. It's the only serious one, the two of them close together with Aubrey's head on his shoulder and his head resting on hers.
The strip in its entirety stays in the box, which he puts in the back of his closet even though it's no longer untouchable. Leaning against it is the battered old Fender acoustic guitar he bought in a pawn shop three weeks before taking Saito's call. He could have bought a brand new one, but he hadn't wanted it. He hasn't played yet, though he thinks that will come soon.
When The Boy Smiles
Here in town you can tell
He's been down for a while
But my God
It's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him
Maybe I'll just sing about it – Breathe (2 AM), Anna Nalick
Eames is right when he says that the three of them could take extraction by storm, because that's exactly what they do. Job after job, they swoop in and it's strangely easy. Arthur's never worked regularly with anyone but the Cobbs – the work he did in the military, even with Eames, wasn't the same – and he's surprised at how easy it all is. There are days he almost swears they read each other's minds.
Arthur plays extractor now almost as much as point man, at least once the job starts. Pre-job he's still the one who does the research, the one who points out all the ways that the plans Eames and Ariadne come up with can go wrong so that they prepare for that ahead of time. In-dream, though, Ariadne and Eames are more able to distract the mark, at least for traditional extractions. Unlike Dom, who saw extraction as simple thievery, their three-person team finds other tricks. They can be your friend, or the man/woman of your dreams, or they can simply break in and steal what they need, or scare it out of you. Depends on the mark, and so their roles are more fluid.
Dom kept things rigid; the three of them just go with the flow. Before, despite a friendship (with or without benefits) it was always very clear that Dom was the boss, and that they were coworkers, interacting first and foremost on a professional level. With Ariadne and Eames it's more like going into business with your best friends, so that it's work but still fun and casual.
Arthur even starts wearing jeans sometimes. He has nothing against jeans, despite quips made by Eames over the years, but he doesn't usually wear them for work. That's because Dom's sensibilities were based in his previous work at an architectural firm, and Arthur followed his lead since Dom was the guy in charge. It was only technically in charge once Dom started losing his shit, but still. And the first day Arthur shows up in jeans is worth it for the expressions on the faces of the other two. He just grins wickedly at them – he's decided to be entertained by their surprise when he shows up less than perfectly put together – and gets down to business reading about their latest mark's love of going to wine tastings. There's a very good chance the dreamscape might involve it.
He's absorbed enough that he doesn't see the even more interesting reactions caused by his grin. Eames and Ariadne glance at each other, then back at Arthur, both of them startled in a very different way this time.
It becomes a bit of a game for Arthur, trying to mess up Eames' and Ariadne's perceptions of him. That's why he comes to work with his hair loose one day, even though he doesn't like how often his bangs fall into his eyes; too distracting by far. Still, the shocked looks are worth a day of mild annoyance. He's grinning as he gets to work, even as he shoves his hair out of his eyes. God, this is actually quite fun.
They all toy with each other, really. Eames has a love of pranks, and that hasn't faded – if anything it's gotten worse. Ariadne teases them both with wicked smiles but a fond glint in her eye. Arthur finds himself falling harder than ever, to his chagrin. He doesn't realize that he's not the only one.
Despite this, though, he enjoys spending time with them. It's more pleasant than painful, even when he's at his lowest point in terms of being in love with your closest friends and not knowing what, if anything, to do about it. Oddly enough, he almost never feels like a third wheel. He's been around couples before, not just Dom and Mal, who were more wrapped up in each other than was even healthy sometimes. All of them are the same in that they tend to leave an outsider feeling like a third wheel, which is awkward. There are moments of that with Ariadne and Eames, but they're few and far between, usually involving references to something he wasn't around to see or hear.
“You guys are really good at not being awkward,” he says one night, terribly awkward himself. But they're drinking, celebrating a job gone right, so that's OK. They're all a little silly with alcohol.
“What?” Ariadne says, looking up at him. She's laying on the floor, relaxed and happy. Arthur's also on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his back against his desk, while Eames is probably a little less drunk than they are and still off the floor, sitting on the edge of Ariadne's worktable.
“Couples usually make everyone else third wheels,” he explains earnestly. “You guys don't really, not with me at least. I don't know about anyone else. That's really kind of nice.” He frowns. “Confusing, though, kind of, because I'm starting to feel like I'm missing something.”
“Oh, I know how that is,” Ariadne says, and glances at Eames. Arthur is too drunk to try and decipher it, but he wishes he could. He doesn't feel left out, but he thinks it would be useful if he knew what that was about.
“We know all about missing things, right, Eames?” Ariadne continues, leaving Arthur confused. Eames' reaction is ever stranger, an amused smile not matching the intense look in his eyes.
“I am too drunk to figure this out,” Arthur mutters, and closes his eyes. He thinks he feels a light touch brush his hair out of his face – it started the day gelled but has since loosened – but he can't be sure. And he can't quite bring himself to open his eyes and check.
Arthur's right when he tells himself that one day he'll start playing again. He bought that guitar with a promise to himself that he would, when it felt right and when he had a tune in his head he just had to get out. It's how it used to work, before, and though he'd kept his mind shut to music for over a dozen years, he just knows that it will come back, probably when he least expects it.
And it does. He's up at six AM rather than his usual seven-thirty, waking with the sudden need to pull out that guitar. He's tuned it already, and there's been something brewing in the back of his head for days. More than that, there's lyrics he keeps thinking about, one of the last songs Aubrey wrote before the accident. He's not sure, when he pulls out a new Moleskine bought for just this purpose, if he's writing this melody for the lyrics or for his own feelings. They match anyway, about feeling on the verge of something, like everything you could ever want being right there, if you could only figure out that last step needed to get it.
Arthur doesn't even notice when eight AM comes and goes, the time when he usually heads downstairs. He's lost in the notes he's writing down, so close to finishing that he can't even consider the thought of leaving it to finish later. And when he's done, of course, he can't just leave it there, silent marks on paper. He picks up the guitar, which is tuned although he hasn't played it properly yet, and he falls into the new song. It's something he's created, like a dream but in some ways infinitely more tangible, and yet more unreal too, because the words aren't his. He didn't even know them before he worked up the nerve to go into that box, it's like something from beyond the grave that fits his life perfectly. It's right, in a way he had with Aubrey, the way it's right slipping in and out of dreams with Ariadne and Eames, it's just... It's how things should be, how they're meant to be.
Downstairs, Ariadne and Eames come in together, bearing coffee and pastries – it's their day to bring breakfast. But when Arthur's nowhere to be found, they're both more than a little concerned. Even though Arthur's a lot more laid-back now than he ever seemed to be while working for Cobb, he's always downstairs by the time they get there. And today he isn't.
They're worried up until they reach the top of the stairs to where Arthur's door is and they can faintly hear music. The door's locked, but it only takes Eames a moment to pick it, and then they can hear the words clearly. It's obviously not the radio, so that means it's Arthur, but... They didn't know he had a Southern accent naturally, and mixed with the singing voice they've also never heard before, it's... Well. It's the jeans and the hair and those damn grins all wrapped into one, because really, if he'd been trying to worm his way into their relationship, trying to prove to them that he's the thing they both knew was missing all along, he couldn't have done it better.
Arthur looks up when he's finished to find Eames and Ariadne in his bedroom doorway. He blinks, the melody still clouding his mind, and then he sees the clock. “Oh. Fuck. I'm sorry,” he says, running his hand through the hair he's forgotten to slick back. Damn, that means he'll have to deal with it falling into his eyes again today.
Oddly enough, Ariadne and Eames haven't said anything. They're looking at him, and the guitar, with very... odd looks on their faces. He's missing something again, and he's still not sure what. “Everything all right?”
“I didn't know you played,” Eames says.
“I... haven't, in a long time.” He picks up the guitar and turns to put it away, so he doesn't see Eames and Ariadne exchange the sort of looks most lovers do, the ones that are silent signals of some kind or another. He turns around to find Ariadne in front of him and he blinks down at her. “Ariadne, what...?” He doesn't finish, because she puts her fingertip to his lips to shut him up, and then a moment later she's kissing him.
And he should push her away because she's with Eames, who is standing right there, but he can't and he kisses her back, confused as hell. And then he feels someone come up behind him and Ariadne pushes him away. He's startled enough that he lets her do it, is actually enough off balance that he takes a step back, and right into Eames.
“What is...?”
“You have been driving us crazy,” Eames says in his ear. “For months now, it's hardly fair. We can stop this now if you want, but it's your last chance to call it off.”
Arthur can't believe what he's hearing. But he'd be an idiot to throw this possibility that this is really happening away. His die is a familiar weight in his pocket, and so he's sure this is real, which gives him his answer. “Why would I want to do that?”
He can't see Eames' face, but the chuckle next to his ear and the flare of heat in Ariadne's eyes tell him all he needs to know.
Soar Above The Sky
When I look back on these days
I'll look and see your face
You were right there for me
In my dreams
I'll always see you soar above the sky
In my heart
There will always be a place
For you for all my life
I'll keep a part of you with me
And everywhere I am
There you'll be
And everywhere I am
There you'll be – There You'll Be, Faith Hill
They laugh afterwards at how they'd all been blind in their own ways. Ariadne and Eames say there's no way they could have known how Arthur felt, he was too good at hiding it. “We, on the other hand, were not being sneaky at all about the effect your little tricks were having, you just weren't looking at the right times,” Ariadne informs him.
Arthur laughs. “I thought just confused you two, it seemed kind of funny.”
“Confused is not the word,” Eames says, rolling his eyes.
The humor in the fact that he apparently seduced the man and woman he loves completely by accident is not lost on Arthur, but honestly he doesn't care how this happened, he's just glad it did. Things don't change much, really; he's even still living in his loft half the time. It's just that during that time Ariadne and Eames are usually there too, and the other half of the time he's at their place. They still have the same dynamic as they did before, but having really good sex as well. Simple, but Arthur doesn't want anything else, and apparently Eames and Ariadne agree with him.
It all changes when they're in Los Angeles. They're actually not visiting Cobb – too much tension there, for all kinds of reasons; Fischer is just the tip of the iceberg. They're on a job, and it goes fine, but Arthur drives over to the client's office to give him the information, and on the way back there's an accident. Of the other two drivers involved, one is dead and one was lucky enough to get away with mostly minor injuries. Arthur's in a coma.
There's another problem. The only identification Arthur had on him was tied to an old alias, whose emergency contact was Cobb. So here he is, after a week in which the doctors refused to give either Eames or Ariadne any details, though a sympathetic intern did. Thanks to her, they know that the doctors are getting more and more concerned about Arthur's chances by the day. Ariadne feels numb, and Eames is practically chain-smoking, except he doesn't want to be outside for too long. She'd almost gotten him to quit completely – with help from Arthur in more recent months.
And now these damn doctors are telling Cobb everything, and he's nodding like he has any right to be here. It's strange, because Ariadne doesn't know Cobb that well, really, certainly not enough to dislike him, but now she almost hates him. Because Eames has left, briefly, and he's made some calls, probably bribed someone. And he comes back with the PASIV. Ariadne thinks it's the best chance they've got, at this point, because they are not losing Arthur. They've only just found each other, they can't... It's not fair, it can't happen, so they have to make sure it doesn't. It's that simple, really.
“Ariadne doesn't know any better, Eames, but I know you do. You can't surface coma patients.”
“Sure you can,” Eames says flatly. Ariadne closes the curtains and the door while he sets the PASIV up. Cobb narrows his eyes at the forger.
“Fine. Let me be more specific. It's almost impossible to do, and most people who try end up going insane!”
Ariadne can't help but jump in at this point, because is he really this much of a hypocrite? “You mean like we would have on the Fischer job if things had gone even more wrong? When you're the desperate one it's OK to take risks, but the rest of us can't?”
Cobb shakes his head. “This is different. The chances were better... Look, I know Arthur, and he'd say the same thing. It's not worth the risk to – ”
Eames shoves him back, and Cobb stumbles into the wall, hitting it hard enough that he might have a bruise. “What the fuck?”
“I don't think you get to talk about what Arthur would say or decide if he's worth risking this for,” Eames says, and he's not yelling, in fact his voice is terribly calm and cold. “Not after what happened with you two.”
“That was...” Cobb says weakly.
“That was you taking advantage of the situation and you bloody well know it.”
“You were barely even Arthur's friend then!”
“True, but that doesn't mean I didn't think it was fucked up. Now get the hell out of here.”
Cobb storms out, but Ariadne has a feeling that anger is more defensiveness than anything. She shoots Eames a quizzical look, but he shakes his head. She nods, and they hook themselves and Arthur to the PASIV and wait for the Somnacin to kick in.
They open their eyes to an unfamiliar rooftop at night. The air is cool, but humid, and they look up to see stars gleaming faintly. The city – because they're clearly on a city rooftop – is not a huge one, but there's enough light to fade the stars out some.
“What are you doing here?”
There's a woman sitting on the edge, who definitely wasn't there a second ago. She's about thirty or so, in black jeans and a red jacket, hanging open to reveal a white blouse. The jacket looks a lot like Arthur's brown one, Ariadne can't help but notice. Actually... This woman looks a lot like Arthur. Sleek dark hair, tall and lean, angular face... But it's the eyes that do it. Those are Arthur's eyes, in a not-quite-unfamiliar face. And Ariadne remembers the picture she and Eames have yet to ask about, next to Arthur's bed in his loft. The girl Arthur's posing with, who looks painfully like him. But they've never heard him talk about her, and they suspect she's dead. This woman – this projection – looks a lot like her. Which means... Oh God.
“You're like Mal,” she says, staring at her in shock.
“She's not,” Eames disagrees. “She's Arthur's head of security. It's this odd thing he has, I've seen her before.”
“Technically, you're both right and both wrong,” the woman says, standing and walking over to them. “My name's Aubrey, and I guess you could say I'm like Mal. I'm a projection of a dead person, but I promise I've never gone psychotic. I was in charge of Arthur's subconscious security, but he didn't make me intentionally. We... ran into each other the first time he ever dreamed alone.” Her voice holds the same drawl that Arthur's voice only has when he's singing or during sex. It's more than a little strange, hearing it.
“I think shooting Cobb in both kneecaps counts as being a bit psychotic,” Eames mutters, and the woman – Aubrey – laughs.
“Maybe, but I think you know why I did that.”
“If you're not like Mal, then why did Arthur's mind create you? And where is he?” Ariadne wants to know.
Aubrey sighs, running a hand through her hair in a gesture identical to Arthur's. It's downright creepy. “I – the real me, that is – died when I was seventeen, almost eighteen. It was a bus accident, but... What you have to understand is, there wasn't anyone else. Arthur and I were twins, we had each other and no one but each other. It... It broke something in him when the real me died, and that's where I come from, I think. Things he wasn't ready to handle, or refused to admit – I knew how he felt about the two of you before he did, for example. I guess you could call me a coping mechanism in some ways. And I'm not sure where Arthur is. He's been trying to do with me what Cobb did with Mal; move on and let me go. He's done a good job of it, and yet here I am again.”
Eames eyes her carefully. “So, you're more than security, but not a problem like Mal. Unless Arthur's pissed at someone and refusing to admit it.”
“Yeah. He's lucky I didn't wreak similar kinds of havoc when the issue wasn't about being angry,” Aubrey says with a wicked smile. It's like Arthur's grin, but not quite the same, and Ariadne wonders how Arthur can have gestures that clearly belonged to the real Aubrey so well memorized over a decade later.
Aubrey tilts her head. “But as I said before... Why are you guys here?”
“What do you mean, why are we here? We're here to find Arthur, to wake him up. The doctors say he should have woken up by now, that whatever this is, it's probably psychological. Is it you? Does he want to stay here with you?” Ariadne snaps. If that's it, she doesn't know how she'll react.
“I... I doubt it, at least, not really, Maybe some little part of him... Fuck, I don't know everything, I'm just part of his head, not all of it. And I figured you were here for him, it's just... I know as much about dreamshare as he does, and this is really risky. I'm just a little surprised you'd do it.”
“Which means that Arthur would be surprised,” Eames says, not sounding very happy.
“Well, wouldn't you?” Aubrey points out. “No one wants to think their loved one would risk death or insanity on their behalf. It's one thing to be willing to risk it yourself; the thought of being the one who is the reason for said risk can be a lot harder to face.”
It's hard to argue with that one. “It still doesn't explain why you're here,” Ariadne says.
“No, I guess it doesn't.”
“Unless Ariadne's right, and what Arthur really wants is to stay with you. I've seen twins, they tend to be wrapped up in each other. It would make sense.”
“I don't think that's it.”
“It's not.” And that's Arthur, coming up from – a trapdoor, really? “I was in the old apartment,” he says to Aubrey. “I can't believe I didn't think to come up here...” Looking at Ariadne and Eames he says, “What are you doing here? Don't you know what you're risking?”
“We know, but you'd be here for either of us,” Ariadne says firmly, “so don't get upset. We're here to wake you up.”
Arthur frowns at her. “What I would do aside, you can't just – mmph!” He's cut off when Eames, impatient, just claps a hand over Arthur's mouth. Even under the circumstances, Ariadne can't help but laugh. Arthur jerks back and glares at Eames, but he's not really angry. “All right, I just...” He shakes his head. “How are you going to wake me up? Shove me off the roof?”
“I thought we'd jump, actually,” Ariadne says.
“First, though, we might want to...” Eames gestures at Aubrey. Arthur looks at her, and it's very strange to see Arthur standing next to Aubrey, because they really do look alike. It's almost scary.
“Thank you for that, Mr. Eames, really,” Aubrey says caustically. Then she looks at Arthur. “I don't know why I'm still here,” she tells him.
“I do,” Arthur says. “Or at least I think I do. You... Well, I knew I had to let go of you, but I still... needed you.”
Aubrey looks past him, at Eames and then her eyes turn to Ariadne, who feels her breath catch. Because the look in the projection's eyes is... It's something else. It's sad, and happy, and... Ariadne understood Mal, in the end. She'd had to, because no one else was willing to see how big of a problem she was, even Cobb. But she can't understand this, not really.
“More than one way to be part of a whole,” Aubrey says, almost to herself, and it's an echo of what Mal said in that hotel room at the bottom of Cobb's mental elevator. It must be something Mal said in reality then, or maybe Aubrey and Arthur had their own creepy run-ins with the projection in Cobb's head.
“In a way, yes,” Arthur says. “I don't want you to... But I...”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't forget me, OK?”
“I couldn't, you know that.”
She drops down the same trapdoor Arthur came up out of, and he watches her, his back to Ariadne and Eames, standing rigidly. For a moment he's frozen, and then he nods to himself, turning around. “Are we sure this is going to work?” he asks, moving to stand with them.
“It should,” Eames says. “It makes sense, anyway.”
They step forward together, and then jump off the edge.
Ariadne sits bolt upright in her chair, as does Eames. For a moment, there's no response from Arthur, and it feels like a punch to the gut, but then his eyes open slowly and he turns his head to look at them. The smile he gives them is a tired one, but it's a signal that he's all right, that everything's going to be fine.
For himself, Arthur knows it's going to be fine now, at least as much as life ever is. He's always going to miss his sister, but she would want him to keep living his life, and so he is. For her, for himself, and for the two people who just brought him back.
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Thanks for posting!
-Ellie
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BRAVO!
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I think this was heartbreaking and wonderful; you've articulated the concept far better than I have. Aubrey is a wonderful character, and Arthur here is so beautiful. Loved the accidental seduction bit. And the part at the end with the conversations with Aubrey, I was just speechless right there because of Eames and Audrey. WONDERFUL.
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My fic is a lot longer than yours, I've had more time to articulate it, which helps. Aubrey was fun to work with - I want to write another fic where she didn't die, so I can work with her more. The accidental seduction is my favorite part of this, not gonna lie.
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