My Dear Mrs. Dixon (19/?)
Title: My Dear Mrs. Dixon
Rating: PG 13
Part: 19 of ?
Pairing: Eames/Ariadne
Disclaimer: I am just playing with Nolan's toys
Summary: The only sensible solution to their current problem is to get 'married' of course!
Author's Note: Written in response to a prompt at inception_kink that called for Ariadne and Eames to go undercover as a couple for a job. Yay for threeday weekends - Happy Thanksgiving to my Canuck pals! Hopefully I will be able to do the 'once a week' thing. This story is definitely nearing an end - probably no more than 5 parts left (maybe less). Enjoy this part - things never go smoothly for Mr. and Mrs. Dixon!
Without the aid of music, a gentle roar of a nearby crowd and champagne, the small talk feels forced. At least a first. The two couples exchange pleasantries - Ariadne has to force herself not to grimace when Collins leans over to brush his lips over her cheek. Eames has his hand firmly on her waist, and she fits herself against him as Collins steps back.
His wife stands by his side. But they do not touch. Ariadne is filing it all away, wondering if she already knows the conclusion and this is just a waste of their time. Still, she smiles and thanks them for coming. Her jovial ‘husband’ suggests that they have drinks on the terrace.
A few moments later she is seated next to Eames while a handy butler pours them all something to drink. Thankfully everyone opts for either coffee or tea - Ariadne thinks it is too early in the day for alcohol and she wants to keep a clear head. She is aware of Vivian staring off toward the Paris landscape.
“Wonderful view isn’t it?” Ariadne says softly, causing the other woman to start. She clearly hasn’t been paying attention to any of the conversation. Not that Ariadne can take that as a sign of anything. The two men have resorted to discussing business again.
“Yes, Paris has always been lovely this time of year. I was very happy when I finally convinced Martin that we needed a home in the city. I have many fond memories of my time as a student here.” As she speaks there is a smile on her face.
Ariadne tries her best not to react to the news that Vivian was once very much like her. A student in Paris. She wonders why no one has told her this before. She can’t stop herself from asking. “What did you study?”
“French literature, French history,” Vivian glances over the city again. “Every since I was little girl I was fascinated with the French culture. I wanted to learn as much as I could about this place. Lucky for me, I was financially able to come here to study.”
Collins’ has stopped speaking with Eames, seemingly listening to his wife. He has a faint smile on his face, and a hand moves to cover hers on the table. “I met her while she was a student.”
Vivian nods, “You did. A handsome man in a suit and a young woman trying her best to emulate the models of the Parisian runways.”
“What a stunning couple you must have made,” Ariadne says, wanting to prolong what seemed to be happy memories for the pair. She thought she saw actual warmth between them and it gave her hope that all was not lost.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I wasn’t entirely successful in my imitation. Too many loud colors, prints that did not match,” Vivian shakes her head and turns toward Collins. “No wonder you found me - I must have stood out like a garish beacon light.”
“I will not lie and say that I enjoyed your wardrobe back then but I do admit that I was charmed by your personality and barely noticed the bright orange dress you had chosen that night,” Collins says.
“Liar,” Vivian immediately shoots back.
Are they flirting? She thinks so. Ariadne risks shooting Eames a pointed glance to find him studying the couple closely. She wishes she could be privy to what is going on inside his head.
She looks back to find Collins looking at her. She hopes she does look alarmed - or worse guilty of something. “You two met while you were studying as well.”
Ariadne nods. “Although, I was on holidays with a group of friends in Greece. I was the opposite of glamour I am afraid,” she says as she looks in Eames’ direction. He is watching her intently, and she hopes she is remembering the details correctly. “I had just come back from a day of sight seeing. I am sure I looked a mess.”
“You were far from the models of the Paris catwalk,” Eames says in agreement. “But I have never been one for a willowy waif. The fact that you had a speck of dirt on your nose only endeared you to me that much more.” He reaches out and tweaks the ends of her nose.
For a moment, Ariadne finds herself wishing that it is all true. That they met while she is on holidays with dirt on her nose. That they live in an estate all to themselves. That they travel the world making love in suites that put her apartment to shame. But as Eames pulls his finger away to focus on the conversation the wish dies.
She knows she doesn’t want to be anyone but who she is - she just wants the kind of relationship that Ambrose and Elizabeth appear to have. She can’t stop herself from reaching over to touch Eames’ hands and smiles when his hand curls around hers.
“And men in suits were your type?” Collins is asking her, pulling her out of the moment.
Ariadne makes a face. “I wouldn’t say that. He’s one of a kind. That is my type.” She tells Collins’ firmly hoping to convey that she is not one to fawn over just anyone with money. She doesn’t want to encourage any behavior that Collins displayed toward her the night before. “He is actually lucky I paid him any mind at all.”
Eames brings her hand up to plant a kiss the back of her hand. “I would have won you over eventually. Once I have a goal in mind, I don’t give up.” He smiles and lets her hand fall away.
The butler has reappeared with their food and an inquiry as to where they would like to dine. They decide to stay on the terrace and a veritable feast is laid out before them. As soon the food is revealed, Ariadne’s stomach rumbles and she flushes. A night of activity and all she has had to refuel her energy is a bite of a pastry. She tries not to pile her plate too high and focuses her attention on the couple across the table.
Perhaps the short trip down memory lane has helped because they seem closer. The conversation is light and the flirting continues. She begins to relax - the plan as it stands will work. In a few days, they will pull off the extraction and move on to the next job - the next big payoff.
Of course somewhere in between she and Eames will have to figure out if they are going to be co-workers, friends and lovers - or some combination of the three. It’s not a conversation she is looking forward to - she imagines it will be awkward at best and there is a growing part of her that fears she will not like the answer she may get. She can’t imagine going back to the way things were before she ever agreed to play along with this ridiculous rouse.
The meal is being cleared away and the four of them stand. Collins indicates he wants an after dinner drink and Eames joins in. Both the women decline but Ariadne volunteers to fix the drinks. She pours Collins’ with a rather heavy hand but does not do the same with Eames. The sharper his mind is the better - even if they are past the critical point.
“Do you need any help?” Ariadne jerks, slopping some of the amber colored liquid onto the table. She panics for a second, thinking that it is probably expensive and the liquid will leave seem kind of mark. But then she remembers that as Elizabeth Dixon, she has enough money not to care. Instead of trying to minimize the damage by finding a cloth, she turns to find Vivian. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No need to apologize,” Ariadne assures her as she holds up the two glasses. “Unless your husband doesn’t like brandy then I think I have it covered.” She hands Vivian the heavier one and smiles.
“He likes brandy just fine,” Vivian says but Ariadne isn’t paying much attention. She has realized that Eames is staring at her from his position leaning against the ledge. The ledge. Collins is nattering away and Eames’ body language may indicate that he is paying attention but his eyes - they are on her and her alone. And he is not staring in the ‘what are you doing’ kind of way. She feels a little naked and wonders what the exact shade of red she is. She forces herself to pull her eyes away and look to Vivian.
The other woman has clearly noticed the exchange. The realization only serves to make Ariadne blush more. She wonders if she should apologize but before she can, Vivian’s face seems to take on a wistful look. “I wish he looked at me like that…”
Ariadne scrunches her face up, not expecting her to say that. “Who?” She has to mentally stop herself to make sure she says the right name. “Ambrose?”
“Oh,” Vivian says, her eyes flashing. She shifts in her stance, her shoulders falling. It becomes clear that her words were not meant to be heard. But now that they have been, Ariadne wonders if a floodgate is about to open. “No, my husband of course.”
Aw hell.
Ariadne braces herself for what is about to come. The relaxation she was feeling drains quickly away. “Surely he must…”
Vivian sets the glass down. “Never, never like that.”
“But he clearly loves you,” Ariadne says feeling like she is grasping at straws. Damnit, why did she have to be right most of the time? In this case, she would be glad to admit that she has read things wrong.
“He clearly cares for me,” Vivian corrects. “And I him. But I don’t think we have ever loved each other, at least not in the way you and your husband love one another.”
Ariadne furrows her brows. There are so many questions running through her head but she doesn’t want to push, to have Vivian shut down. The fact that she is saying anything at all indicates that Vivian has been looking for someone to unload on for a long time. But Ariadne expects that as soon as Vivian actually thinks about what she is saying and the fact that she is telling this to a virtual stranger she will stop. Ariadne hopes that she can get as much as out of her as possible before that happens. “No one’s relationship looks the same.”
“I wish it were that simple,” Vivian says. She isn’t looking at Ariadne; her eyes had found her husband who was still speaking with Eames. “But it’s hard to imagine love as part of the equation when the whole relationship is founded on a business deal.”
“A deal?” Ariadne repeats.
“My father and his father cooked the whole thing up. A merger in more than one way…” Vivian’s voice is quiet, a hint of sadness evident. “Our first meeting was planned. My father insisted I go to a party with him and then spent the rest of the night pushing me in Martin’s direction. The rest is history.”
“That sounds…” Ariadne doesn’t want to be insulting but the idea of being used as a bargaining chip by your own father makes her skin crawl. Finally she settles on the least offensive thing she can think of. “…less than ideal.”
Vivian shifts her gaze back to her. “I don’t want you to think that I am unhappy. Martin treats me well. We get along fine. We have managed to build a solid relationship and no doubt have made our fathers’ the money they were after in the first place.” She sighs a little. “But still, every once and awhile, I see something - like you and Ambrose, and wonder what things could be like if we loved each other like a husband and wife should.”
“Vivian?”
Collins is calling from the terrace, no doubt wondering where his drink is. Ariadne knows that it will end the moment. Vivian straightens and looks to Ariadne again. “I can’t believe I said anything. I can only imagine what you must think right now.”
“I don’t think any less of you,” Ariadne tells her, reaching out to place a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “And I won’t say anything to anyone.”
Vivian seems satisfied and heads to the terrace, her husband’s drink in hand. Ariadne takes a moment to compose herself and then follows suit. When she hands Eames the drink he gives her a curious look and she knows that there is something in her face that gives away their predicament. She forces herself to smile and act if this was all normal.
Thankfully, a short time later Eames announces that they will soon have to get ready to return home. Collins takes the hint, takes Vivian by the arm and heads for the door. Ariadne and Eames follow them, playing the role of the good hosts until the end. As she stands in the doorway, Collins once again leans over and kisses her cheek. To her credit, she does not flinch but now she is wondering just how often he goes elsewhere to find the excitement that is no doubt missing from his ‘solid’ relationship with his chosen bride.
Eames closes the door behind them and turns to face Ariadne. She has let all her resolve slip away and knows she looks worried. As he steps toward her, she finally speaks what she has been thinking since Vivian opened up to her. “Our plan…it’s blown to hell,” she shakes her head. “He’ll never tell her anything.”
“I know,” Eames tells her. He places his hands on her shoulders and she steps forward to rest her head on his chest.
The deadline is looming. Their employers are waiting.
And they have to go back to the drawing board.