Inception: Ariadne/Arthur/Fischer [All That We Keep, part III]
Title: All That We Keep, part III
Author: namistai8
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Ariadne/Fischer, Ariadne/Arthur
Word Count: 3,011
Disclaimer/Notes/Whatever: Nolan owns, I just borrow. Jumping straight into the fandom with a fic. Started off wondering how different Fischer was after the inception, and it just grew from there. Will be a multi-part fic. Fischer and Ariadne go to dinner, and Arthur just... watches.
All That We Keep, Part I | All That We Keep, Part II
"Beautiful girls all over the world
I could be chasing but my time would be wasted...
I've been to London, I've been to Paris
Even went out there to Tokyo
Back home down in Georgia, to New Orleans
But you always steal the show"
B.O.B ft. Bruno Mars "Nothing on You"
For a moment, he wishes he had a tie to adjust. He takes one last look at his outfit - slightly distressed jeans, a soft knit gray long sleeve round collared shirt, chocolate brown jacket with such distressed stitching that it looked like it was falling apart, all recently acquired from Dolce & Gabbana - and realized that this was his first time he isn't wearing a shirt that required a tie. Perhaps that is why he feels... nervous. Typically, a date would have meant a three piece suit, shirt and tie. Depending on who he would be meeting up with, the only item that required thought would have been the tie - conservative, Brooks Brothers, interested, Armani, looking for a good time, Gucci and so on and so forth.
Instead, yesterday he spent it shopping - Gucci, Chanel, Versace, Armani, Burberry - looking for something that was casual, but that would not make him look like a young heroin addict, nothing too extravagant because that would mean he is trying too hard. He finally walked into Dolce & Gabbana, found the outfit that he is currently wearing on the mannequin and just bought it. Minus the hat and scarf. The scarf would have been too much. And he hates hats.
Typically, he'd bring flowers. Roses, if he feels classically inclined, always in a perfect white with the faintest touch of pink, or maybe orchids if he feels that his date would think roses were a little too conservative. He has never shown up without a gift.
But he knows instinctively that it would have been too much. Ariadne is already nervous, and he doesn't want to push it too far too fast. It's... different not really knowing the rules with her. All of the women he's ever gone out with, even casually, have all known what to expect and he's always known what it is that they are ultimately after. Before he even asks them out, he knows that they will say yes, and after they open the door he knows whether they are ready to sleep with him that night or if they will play hard to get. It's never a matter of if, but rather when. There are no surprises.
He knocks on the door, as she already buzzed him into her apartment complex. She opens almost immediately, with a nervous smile on her lips and a casual "Hey" is her greeting. She's wearing a dress with a floral print on it - small little pink/red flowers, the materials is gauzy, and the hem of her dress falls slightly above her knee. Her hair is loose and falls in soft waves. There's a girlish sweetness to her look that would have repelled him... before. Now... it may be a stretch to say that its attractive, but maybe not. It's obvious that this is Ariadne, making an effort. And after having lived in a world where everything just seems effortless, its... refreshing.
"Let me grab my jacket," she says, turning around to grab the red jacket she had been wearing when he met her. She doesn't invite him in, so Robert stays put where he is. Half of his dates started with an invitation to come in for a drink, and ended up with him leaving a few hours later, having to readjust his tie. He knows that this is a novelty for him, and imagines that this is what helps build anticipation. The fact that he doesn't know the rules, the fact that everything doesn't feel scripted, the fact that there had been no look of calculation in her eyes when she greeted him.
With the red jacket on, Ariadne is less girly and more feminine. The sharp edges of the jacket help to weigh her down, ground her somehow. He likes the look of her, the minimal makeup, the lack of a cloying perfume. He's not close enough to smell her yet but imagines that if he stood next to her she'd smell clean, perhaps a whiff of soap and some floral shampoo. Part of his stomach clenches at the idea of just burying his face in her hair and inhaling and he feels ambivalent about his reaction, both uncomfortable and supremely comfortable with the idea. He puts his hands inside his coat pockets.
Perhaps that's why he feels so awkward around her.
"Ready?" she says with a tilt of her head. He wonders if he is, but nods his assent and a smile on his lips. He offers his elbow and she takes it gingerly, her fingers gripping the edge of his coat fabric lightly. She doesn't link their arms, or invade his space. Not that he was expecting anything that forward from her.
He takes her to a small bistro, Allard. The concierge at the hotel recommended it. He had originally thought about taking her to an Alain Ducasse establishment but realised that Ariadne would have probably been even more uncomfortable.
They make small talk as they order their food. He has to work to draw Ariadne out, as she doesn't share information about herself quite so readily. Typically, he would have a dossier compiled about her with all the basic, and sometimes not quite so basic, information. He finds out that her family is from Rhode Island, her parents are still married (her father is an engineer, her mother is a visual artist), got her architectual undergrad degree in Cornell and that she's the youngest of three.
In turn, Ariadne knows that both of his parents are deceased, he's an only child, his birthday is January 11th, he went to a British boarding school as per his mother's wishes, he went to Yale for both his undergraduate degree and to the London School of Economics for his MBA, he plays polo but hates sailing, his favorite color is green, he was almost engaged once but he never got around to proposing, he has trouble sleeping and is a bit of an insomniac, he prefers his martinis to be made with Hendrick's gin as opposed to Bombay's Blue Sapphire.
He doesn't mind being candid with her, up to a point. He keeps reminding himself that they are strangers, but he can't seem to hold on to that thought. Whatever uneasiness and wariness he typically feels seems to slip between his fingers. Robert doesn't trust people easily. In fact, he can count the number of people he does with a hand, with fingers to spare. And while he knows that he doesn't trust Ariadne, it feels like he can.
As the meal goes on, Ariadne seems to relax. At least a little. Perhaps the glass of red wine that she's been drinking helps. He had threatened to order her a bottle of champagne if she stuck to only water, and she had been scandalized enough to quickly order a glass of the house red.
"Are you seeing someone?" Robert asks, cocking his head to look at her. He knows she's not married nor in a serious relationship. If she had a boyfriend, she wouldn't be here. She's the kind that is loyal and faithful. But that didn't mean she wasn't seeing someone seriously.
"No," she says but there's enough of a pause between his question and her answer that he knows that there is someone.
"But there is someone, isn't there?" he says, deducing things. He forces himself to smile. After all, they're only beginning to get to know each other.
"No," she says but she blinks before she answers. Ariadne is a terrible liar, he thinks to himself. He was right. There is someone. Or at least, there is someone she would like to have the possibility with.
It makes him frown a little. Here is the first girl that has seriously piqued his interest and she's interested in someone else. Another novelty. He's already aware that if he decided to pursue her seriously, it would probably not work out as expected. In fact, he wasn't sure it would work out at all. But that didn't stop him from considering it.
Dessert arrives and Ariadne brightens. He orders two expressos for both of them, while Ariadne starts devouring her creme brulee. It fascinates him a bit actually, seeing a girl eat... well, like her. Taking serious enjoyment from her food. No small, polite, measured bites. No tasting and then leaving the majority of the plate to waste. He's about to tease her, when she puts her spoon down and reaches for her phone.
Ariadne smiles at whatever message has buzzed into her phone. "Something funny?" he inquires. This is the first unfettered smile that Ariadne has had all night. No nervousness, nothing polite or measured. Just a smile, spontaneous and sunny.
"Oh, just this friend and I. He has this cat, so we trade these funny cat pictures with captions," she says, radiant smile undiminished.
"Ah. Is he another architect?"
"No. Chemist," she says with a hint of laughter in her tone.
"Is he the.." Robert lets his voice trail off.
"Oh. No. We're just friends," she says quickly, enough of a laugh still in her voice that Robert relaxes. It's obvious that whatever regard she has for this chemist is merely platonic. "Here, take a look," she says, the picture on the screen of her phone. It's a picture of a ginger cat with any number of toys in between its paws, with 'Yes, I do need them all' in large text to the side.
He looks at the picture, and while it's mildly amusing in a childish, sophomoric way what strikes him is that he has never received a picture like this. Over 100 people have his personal cell phone number, and he can't remember a single message he has received that didn't serve a purpose
In fact, he's pretty sure that if he ever did receive anything like this ludicrous picture, his Chief of Information Technology would be inspecting his account and the entire mail system for some virus, his Chief Security Officer would be worried if this represented a 'breach of the security protocol', his strategic advisors would be pondering which of his many enemies had sent such a deliberately provocating and insulting picture. His uncle Peter and an army of the lawyers would be writing up briefs and preparing to sue the proverbial knickers off whoever had the audacity to send such a thing to him.
"You don't find it funny?" Ariadne's question breaks him out of his reverie.
Robert pastes a smile on his face, but it feels strained. How can he explain that he has no one that would share something like this with him without sounding... well, pathetic. "So you like funny cat pictures?" he asks, deflecting.
Ariadne's smile selfconsciously, a bit lopsided as she tucks her tongue at the side of her mouth. "You don't?" she answers.
"It's not my taste in question," he says with an easier grin. "I'm here with you, aren't I?" he adds cheekly. He doesn't know what normal is, and maybe it means sending weird and incomprehensibly captioned pictures to your friends, maybe it means not knowing what happens next, maybe it means being awkward with a girl you just met. He can't quite say why - and maybe he'll never know - but he feels almost normal with this girl in front of him with her large brown eyes.
Ariadne blushes and purses her lips together, but the awkward smile is irrepressible. He smiles in return, and doesn't recognize that the emotion he is feeling as happiness.
***
Arthur pretends he's filling out the crossword puzzle, but in reality he's focused on the couple at 2 o'clock from his vantage point. He picked this spot strategically - mostly because he doesn't want Ariadne turning around and recognizing him. She's never been good at faking... well, any kind of emotion with any degree of conviction.
Which is why her entire evening with Fischer has been such a study of... well, her. Her smiles, her reactions, her body language. It hasn't been easy, especially since he's had to divide his attention between watching her... and watching Fischer... and watching Fischer watch Ariadne.
He trailed Fischer during his shopping expedition. It vaguely amused him, actually. The almost frantic quest to find the appropriate outfit. It was clear that Fischer felt like a fish out of water without a suit. Arthur straightened out, pulling on his shirt cuffs, touching the smooth cool edge of his cuff links. He watched as Fischer was buzzed into her apartment building, and no more than a few minutes later saw them both walk out, Ariadne's hand in the crook of his right elbow but with enough distance between their bodies to read how tenous her grasp really was.
Any outsider, or in Fischer's case his security detail, would see anything from the abnormal. It's obvious that it's a date. Between people that don't know each other at all. He can see them go through the steps of getting to know each other, Ariadne's reticence, Fischer's attempts to draw her out, the single moments in which they actually feel comfortable with each other's company.
Arthur can't remember the last time he went on a date. He casts his mind to the early days of when he began working in the extraction field. The days when he thought he could keep his personal life - personal - and his work life as his work life. In the end, the lies to keep up appearances of a normal life made reality seem even more surreal. After the first extraction job in which things really got fucked up, and Cobb had to shoot them both so that they could get out of the dreamscape alive, Arthur went on a bender, had drunken sex with the girl he had been seeing, and woke up from her bed in a cold sweat in a panic. He had instinctively grabbed for a gun, and would have aimed it at her head if he had one, ready to shoot her. At which point, he got dressed and walked out of her apartment - and her life - without ever saying goodbye.
He had always envied Cobb his ability to both work and have a family. He couldn't help the frisson of envy whenever Mal had shared a fond, secret smile with Cobb when he got invited to dinner, or when Phillipa would shriek in laughter after opening a present. At that point, Arthur hadn't reckoned what it cost Cobb and his family. And even now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to meet it and wasn't sure how Cobb had done so either.
He turns his attention back to Ariadne, who is now smiling as sunnily and unfettered as when she has just managed to accomplish something particularly tricky in dreamscape architectonics. He had been a little taken aback when he saw her step out in a gauzy dress and her ubiquitous red jacket. He hadn't expected the dress, although he wasn't sure what he thought Ariadne would wear when making an effort. It sent a prickle up his spine, and he might have looked a little too long at her bare legs. He's only seen them once, in the dreamscape, when she was dressed up in a skirt and matching jacket ensemble.
The same once of a kiss that wasn't really a kiss.
And now Fischer was getting to see her legs.
Arthur stretched his neck out quickly, from side to side, as if trying to work out a kink in neck, followed by a quick shoulder roll. Perhaps he's reading too much into it. But Arthur recalls the long contemplative look that Fischer sent to Ariadne when she went to the bathroom. Arthur can tell he's interested but isn't sure necessarily what type of interest it really is. Ariadne does not fit the profile of women that Fischer typically associates with - either as girlfriends or bed partners. Fischer has tended toward the debutante type for the girlfriends, all with the appropriate WASP, often times British background, usually fair skinned and blonde. As for bed partners, he's always favored the leggy, extremely fashionable ice blonde ideal. Ariadne's petite loveliness is neither sophisticated nor jaded. Fischer is definitely breaking a pattern. Which is a bit of extrapolation, since one date doesn't really break a pattern with a single instance of deviation. At this point, it's simply an anomaly.
Which is what he will tell Saito. And he desperately hopes that it's the case. He is already resigned himself to the fact that he will have to keep an eye on Ariadne for the next few weeks, even it if is just an anomaly.
If it isn't, then things get a whole lot more complicated. He'll have to figure out if Fischer knows about inception, and if that is the case, if he is out for revenge, of if this is just an inconvenient side effect to the job. And while it could be a chance meeting, and just a chance encounter, Arthur doesn't believe in leaving things to chance. That's just like believing in God. Or luck. Or fate. These are not ideas he particularly believes in.
Arthur follows them out from the restaurant, and sees them walk together in much of the same fashion they had arrived. Fischer offers the crook of his elbow, and Ariadne takes it, still gingerly and there's still space between them. Except this time, this time the distance between their bodies is shorter. It's just an inch, and he doubts that Fischer or Ariadne herself would notice the difference. Very few people would. It's his years of firearms training that gives him this particular insight.
It's just an inch, but it speaks volumes to him. Hell, it screams at him. His eyes narrow.
Part of him knows that its just the result of two people that have gotten to know each other a little better. But a small corner of his mind can't help but see it as an indication, that perhaps this time, things could spiral out of his control. Not that Arthur viewed himself as some sort of puppet master, but there wasn't going to be a relationship between Ariadne and Fischer. It was too dangerous for everyone involved. This evening was just an anomaly.
Arthur is almost convinced of this as Fischer and Ariadne walk back to her apartment complex in silence and through their awkward goodbyes. He can almost feel his lips curve upwards in a small smile of satisfaction as Ariadne turns her back at Fischer. His hand slips into his right hand pants pocket in search of his cellphone to call Saito, when Fischer grabs Ariadne's arm and pulls her back to him.
He can only watch in silence, whatever he was going to tell Saito dying in his throat, as Fischer bends down a little and gives Ariadne a small, soft kiss on her surprised lips. He sees Ariadne's stunned expression and Fisher's almost embarassed but slightly triumphant smile that he gives her.
All That We Keep, Part IV
Fan art from the ever fabulous renisanz. No spoilers here. Just click it.
Comments and criticisms always welcome.
Crossposted in arthur_ariadne
Author: namistai8
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Ariadne/Fischer, Ariadne/Arthur
Word Count: 3,011
Disclaimer/Notes/Whatever: Nolan owns, I just borrow. Jumping straight into the fandom with a fic. Started off wondering how different Fischer was after the inception, and it just grew from there. Will be a multi-part fic. Fischer and Ariadne go to dinner, and Arthur just... watches.
All That We Keep, Part I | All That We Keep, Part II
"Beautiful girls all over the world
I could be chasing but my time would be wasted...
I've been to London, I've been to Paris
Even went out there to Tokyo
Back home down in Georgia, to New Orleans
But you always steal the show"
B.O.B ft. Bruno Mars "Nothing on You"
For a moment, he wishes he had a tie to adjust. He takes one last look at his outfit - slightly distressed jeans, a soft knit gray long sleeve round collared shirt, chocolate brown jacket with such distressed stitching that it looked like it was falling apart, all recently acquired from Dolce & Gabbana - and realized that this was his first time he isn't wearing a shirt that required a tie. Perhaps that is why he feels... nervous. Typically, a date would have meant a three piece suit, shirt and tie. Depending on who he would be meeting up with, the only item that required thought would have been the tie - conservative, Brooks Brothers, interested, Armani, looking for a good time, Gucci and so on and so forth.
Instead, yesterday he spent it shopping - Gucci, Chanel, Versace, Armani, Burberry - looking for something that was casual, but that would not make him look like a young heroin addict, nothing too extravagant because that would mean he is trying too hard. He finally walked into Dolce & Gabbana, found the outfit that he is currently wearing on the mannequin and just bought it. Minus the hat and scarf. The scarf would have been too much. And he hates hats.
Typically, he'd bring flowers. Roses, if he feels classically inclined, always in a perfect white with the faintest touch of pink, or maybe orchids if he feels that his date would think roses were a little too conservative. He has never shown up without a gift.
But he knows instinctively that it would have been too much. Ariadne is already nervous, and he doesn't want to push it too far too fast. It's... different not really knowing the rules with her. All of the women he's ever gone out with, even casually, have all known what to expect and he's always known what it is that they are ultimately after. Before he even asks them out, he knows that they will say yes, and after they open the door he knows whether they are ready to sleep with him that night or if they will play hard to get. It's never a matter of if, but rather when. There are no surprises.
He knocks on the door, as she already buzzed him into her apartment complex. She opens almost immediately, with a nervous smile on her lips and a casual "Hey" is her greeting. She's wearing a dress with a floral print on it - small little pink/red flowers, the materials is gauzy, and the hem of her dress falls slightly above her knee. Her hair is loose and falls in soft waves. There's a girlish sweetness to her look that would have repelled him... before. Now... it may be a stretch to say that its attractive, but maybe not. It's obvious that this is Ariadne, making an effort. And after having lived in a world where everything just seems effortless, its... refreshing.
"Let me grab my jacket," she says, turning around to grab the red jacket she had been wearing when he met her. She doesn't invite him in, so Robert stays put where he is. Half of his dates started with an invitation to come in for a drink, and ended up with him leaving a few hours later, having to readjust his tie. He knows that this is a novelty for him, and imagines that this is what helps build anticipation. The fact that he doesn't know the rules, the fact that everything doesn't feel scripted, the fact that there had been no look of calculation in her eyes when she greeted him.
With the red jacket on, Ariadne is less girly and more feminine. The sharp edges of the jacket help to weigh her down, ground her somehow. He likes the look of her, the minimal makeup, the lack of a cloying perfume. He's not close enough to smell her yet but imagines that if he stood next to her she'd smell clean, perhaps a whiff of soap and some floral shampoo. Part of his stomach clenches at the idea of just burying his face in her hair and inhaling and he feels ambivalent about his reaction, both uncomfortable and supremely comfortable with the idea. He puts his hands inside his coat pockets.
Perhaps that's why he feels so awkward around her.
"Ready?" she says with a tilt of her head. He wonders if he is, but nods his assent and a smile on his lips. He offers his elbow and she takes it gingerly, her fingers gripping the edge of his coat fabric lightly. She doesn't link their arms, or invade his space. Not that he was expecting anything that forward from her.
He takes her to a small bistro, Allard. The concierge at the hotel recommended it. He had originally thought about taking her to an Alain Ducasse establishment but realised that Ariadne would have probably been even more uncomfortable.
They make small talk as they order their food. He has to work to draw Ariadne out, as she doesn't share information about herself quite so readily. Typically, he would have a dossier compiled about her with all the basic, and sometimes not quite so basic, information. He finds out that her family is from Rhode Island, her parents are still married (her father is an engineer, her mother is a visual artist), got her architectual undergrad degree in Cornell and that she's the youngest of three.
In turn, Ariadne knows that both of his parents are deceased, he's an only child, his birthday is January 11th, he went to a British boarding school as per his mother's wishes, he went to Yale for both his undergraduate degree and to the London School of Economics for his MBA, he plays polo but hates sailing, his favorite color is green, he was almost engaged once but he never got around to proposing, he has trouble sleeping and is a bit of an insomniac, he prefers his martinis to be made with Hendrick's gin as opposed to Bombay's Blue Sapphire.
He doesn't mind being candid with her, up to a point. He keeps reminding himself that they are strangers, but he can't seem to hold on to that thought. Whatever uneasiness and wariness he typically feels seems to slip between his fingers. Robert doesn't trust people easily. In fact, he can count the number of people he does with a hand, with fingers to spare. And while he knows that he doesn't trust Ariadne, it feels like he can.
As the meal goes on, Ariadne seems to relax. At least a little. Perhaps the glass of red wine that she's been drinking helps. He had threatened to order her a bottle of champagne if she stuck to only water, and she had been scandalized enough to quickly order a glass of the house red.
"Are you seeing someone?" Robert asks, cocking his head to look at her. He knows she's not married nor in a serious relationship. If she had a boyfriend, she wouldn't be here. She's the kind that is loyal and faithful. But that didn't mean she wasn't seeing someone seriously.
"No," she says but there's enough of a pause between his question and her answer that he knows that there is someone.
"But there is someone, isn't there?" he says, deducing things. He forces himself to smile. After all, they're only beginning to get to know each other.
"No," she says but she blinks before she answers. Ariadne is a terrible liar, he thinks to himself. He was right. There is someone. Or at least, there is someone she would like to have the possibility with.
It makes him frown a little. Here is the first girl that has seriously piqued his interest and she's interested in someone else. Another novelty. He's already aware that if he decided to pursue her seriously, it would probably not work out as expected. In fact, he wasn't sure it would work out at all. But that didn't stop him from considering it.
Dessert arrives and Ariadne brightens. He orders two expressos for both of them, while Ariadne starts devouring her creme brulee. It fascinates him a bit actually, seeing a girl eat... well, like her. Taking serious enjoyment from her food. No small, polite, measured bites. No tasting and then leaving the majority of the plate to waste. He's about to tease her, when she puts her spoon down and reaches for her phone.
Ariadne smiles at whatever message has buzzed into her phone. "Something funny?" he inquires. This is the first unfettered smile that Ariadne has had all night. No nervousness, nothing polite or measured. Just a smile, spontaneous and sunny.
"Oh, just this friend and I. He has this cat, so we trade these funny cat pictures with captions," she says, radiant smile undiminished.
"Ah. Is he another architect?"
"No. Chemist," she says with a hint of laughter in her tone.
"Is he the.." Robert lets his voice trail off.
"Oh. No. We're just friends," she says quickly, enough of a laugh still in her voice that Robert relaxes. It's obvious that whatever regard she has for this chemist is merely platonic. "Here, take a look," she says, the picture on the screen of her phone. It's a picture of a ginger cat with any number of toys in between its paws, with 'Yes, I do need them all' in large text to the side.
He looks at the picture, and while it's mildly amusing in a childish, sophomoric way what strikes him is that he has never received a picture like this. Over 100 people have his personal cell phone number, and he can't remember a single message he has received that didn't serve a purpose
In fact, he's pretty sure that if he ever did receive anything like this ludicrous picture, his Chief of Information Technology would be inspecting his account and the entire mail system for some virus, his Chief Security Officer would be worried if this represented a 'breach of the security protocol', his strategic advisors would be pondering which of his many enemies had sent such a deliberately provocating and insulting picture. His uncle Peter and an army of the lawyers would be writing up briefs and preparing to sue the proverbial knickers off whoever had the audacity to send such a thing to him.
"You don't find it funny?" Ariadne's question breaks him out of his reverie.
Robert pastes a smile on his face, but it feels strained. How can he explain that he has no one that would share something like this with him without sounding... well, pathetic. "So you like funny cat pictures?" he asks, deflecting.
Ariadne's smile selfconsciously, a bit lopsided as she tucks her tongue at the side of her mouth. "You don't?" she answers.
"It's not my taste in question," he says with an easier grin. "I'm here with you, aren't I?" he adds cheekly. He doesn't know what normal is, and maybe it means sending weird and incomprehensibly captioned pictures to your friends, maybe it means not knowing what happens next, maybe it means being awkward with a girl you just met. He can't quite say why - and maybe he'll never know - but he feels almost normal with this girl in front of him with her large brown eyes.
Ariadne blushes and purses her lips together, but the awkward smile is irrepressible. He smiles in return, and doesn't recognize that the emotion he is feeling as happiness.
***
Arthur pretends he's filling out the crossword puzzle, but in reality he's focused on the couple at 2 o'clock from his vantage point. He picked this spot strategically - mostly because he doesn't want Ariadne turning around and recognizing him. She's never been good at faking... well, any kind of emotion with any degree of conviction.
Which is why her entire evening with Fischer has been such a study of... well, her. Her smiles, her reactions, her body language. It hasn't been easy, especially since he's had to divide his attention between watching her... and watching Fischer... and watching Fischer watch Ariadne.
He trailed Fischer during his shopping expedition. It vaguely amused him, actually. The almost frantic quest to find the appropriate outfit. It was clear that Fischer felt like a fish out of water without a suit. Arthur straightened out, pulling on his shirt cuffs, touching the smooth cool edge of his cuff links. He watched as Fischer was buzzed into her apartment building, and no more than a few minutes later saw them both walk out, Ariadne's hand in the crook of his right elbow but with enough distance between their bodies to read how tenous her grasp really was.
Any outsider, or in Fischer's case his security detail, would see anything from the abnormal. It's obvious that it's a date. Between people that don't know each other at all. He can see them go through the steps of getting to know each other, Ariadne's reticence, Fischer's attempts to draw her out, the single moments in which they actually feel comfortable with each other's company.
Arthur can't remember the last time he went on a date. He casts his mind to the early days of when he began working in the extraction field. The days when he thought he could keep his personal life - personal - and his work life as his work life. In the end, the lies to keep up appearances of a normal life made reality seem even more surreal. After the first extraction job in which things really got fucked up, and Cobb had to shoot them both so that they could get out of the dreamscape alive, Arthur went on a bender, had drunken sex with the girl he had been seeing, and woke up from her bed in a cold sweat in a panic. He had instinctively grabbed for a gun, and would have aimed it at her head if he had one, ready to shoot her. At which point, he got dressed and walked out of her apartment - and her life - without ever saying goodbye.
He had always envied Cobb his ability to both work and have a family. He couldn't help the frisson of envy whenever Mal had shared a fond, secret smile with Cobb when he got invited to dinner, or when Phillipa would shriek in laughter after opening a present. At that point, Arthur hadn't reckoned what it cost Cobb and his family. And even now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to meet it and wasn't sure how Cobb had done so either.
He turns his attention back to Ariadne, who is now smiling as sunnily and unfettered as when she has just managed to accomplish something particularly tricky in dreamscape architectonics. He had been a little taken aback when he saw her step out in a gauzy dress and her ubiquitous red jacket. He hadn't expected the dress, although he wasn't sure what he thought Ariadne would wear when making an effort. It sent a prickle up his spine, and he might have looked a little too long at her bare legs. He's only seen them once, in the dreamscape, when she was dressed up in a skirt and matching jacket ensemble.
The same once of a kiss that wasn't really a kiss.
And now Fischer was getting to see her legs.
Arthur stretched his neck out quickly, from side to side, as if trying to work out a kink in neck, followed by a quick shoulder roll. Perhaps he's reading too much into it. But Arthur recalls the long contemplative look that Fischer sent to Ariadne when she went to the bathroom. Arthur can tell he's interested but isn't sure necessarily what type of interest it really is. Ariadne does not fit the profile of women that Fischer typically associates with - either as girlfriends or bed partners. Fischer has tended toward the debutante type for the girlfriends, all with the appropriate WASP, often times British background, usually fair skinned and blonde. As for bed partners, he's always favored the leggy, extremely fashionable ice blonde ideal. Ariadne's petite loveliness is neither sophisticated nor jaded. Fischer is definitely breaking a pattern. Which is a bit of extrapolation, since one date doesn't really break a pattern with a single instance of deviation. At this point, it's simply an anomaly.
Which is what he will tell Saito. And he desperately hopes that it's the case. He is already resigned himself to the fact that he will have to keep an eye on Ariadne for the next few weeks, even it if is just an anomaly.
If it isn't, then things get a whole lot more complicated. He'll have to figure out if Fischer knows about inception, and if that is the case, if he is out for revenge, of if this is just an inconvenient side effect to the job. And while it could be a chance meeting, and just a chance encounter, Arthur doesn't believe in leaving things to chance. That's just like believing in God. Or luck. Or fate. These are not ideas he particularly believes in.
Arthur follows them out from the restaurant, and sees them walk together in much of the same fashion they had arrived. Fischer offers the crook of his elbow, and Ariadne takes it, still gingerly and there's still space between them. Except this time, this time the distance between their bodies is shorter. It's just an inch, and he doubts that Fischer or Ariadne herself would notice the difference. Very few people would. It's his years of firearms training that gives him this particular insight.
It's just an inch, but it speaks volumes to him. Hell, it screams at him. His eyes narrow.
Part of him knows that its just the result of two people that have gotten to know each other a little better. But a small corner of his mind can't help but see it as an indication, that perhaps this time, things could spiral out of his control. Not that Arthur viewed himself as some sort of puppet master, but there wasn't going to be a relationship between Ariadne and Fischer. It was too dangerous for everyone involved. This evening was just an anomaly.
Arthur is almost convinced of this as Fischer and Ariadne walk back to her apartment complex in silence and through their awkward goodbyes. He can almost feel his lips curve upwards in a small smile of satisfaction as Ariadne turns her back at Fischer. His hand slips into his right hand pants pocket in search of his cellphone to call Saito, when Fischer grabs Ariadne's arm and pulls her back to him.
He can only watch in silence, whatever he was going to tell Saito dying in his throat, as Fischer bends down a little and gives Ariadne a small, soft kiss on her surprised lips. He sees Ariadne's stunned expression and Fisher's almost embarassed but slightly triumphant smile that he gives her.
All That We Keep, Part IV
Fan art from the ever fabulous renisanz. No spoilers here. Just click it.
Comments and criticisms always welcome.
Crossposted in arthur_ariadne