On the Wings of an Angel (Interlude)
On the Wings of an Angel (Interlude)
Back to Part One
Disclaimer and author's note, etc., back in the Master Post
On the Wings of an Angel
text by phoenix.writing
illustrations by creepylicious
~ INTERLUDE ~
When Ariadne returned to her little Paris flat one evening and found Arthur in her living room, she let out a shriek of surprise that she would deny to her dying day and flung herself at him.
She hugged him desperately for a moment, squeezing him as tight as she could, and then she was hauling him to his feet and dragging him towards the door even as she gushed.
"Oh, my god, we thought you were dead. There isn't much time."
"What is it? What's happened?" he asked sharply. "Dom? The kids?"
She shook her head. "It's Eames. He's in a coma."
She was jerked to a stop by Arthur's cessation of motion, and she turned back to see that he was looking at her with an expression on his face that she had never seen before. It was too complicated for her to identify, but she could tell enough to know that it was not any of the expressions that she had anticipated that that news would garner.
"Come on," she urged sharply, tugging at his arm again. "They have no idea why he's held on as long as he has, but Collins has already died, and-"
"What?"
The word snapped through the air with the force of an expertly wielded whip.
She nodded, getting that he'd want news but not understanding why they couldn't play catch-up while they were moving.
"Eames searched for you everywhere, got Cobb and Saito and even Yusef involved, and when they couldn't find you, he assumed that Collins had eliminated you, some stupid plot, apparently, which Eames had tried to thwart by claiming that he was going to spy on you for Collins-like anyone would buy that." She huffed an incredulous laugh. "He went after Collins, and no one knows exactly what happened, but now Collins is dead and Eames in a coma, and it's been almost eight weeks now, and-"
Ariadne cut off abruptly, startled by their sudden motion, since Arthur was now yanking the two of them out of her flat, clattering down the stairs, and spilling the two of them onto the sidewalk with no regard for passers-by.
"Where are we going?" he demanded tersely.
She directed him to the clinic, and it wasn't until they were in the cab that he demanded, "Why there?"
"Saito had him moved for us, and since Cobb couldn't spare as much time, I'm keeping an eye on him."
"Symptoms?"
She looked at him worriedly. He was paler than he had been, and now wired so tensely that she was a little worried that he was going to explode.
He hadn't looked at her when he asked the question, and he now shot her a swift, piercing glare that made her sit up straighter.
She cleared her throat. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess. The PASIV had run dry by the time they were found, and Collins was dead. Eames has been non-responsive to all external stimuli since that time, but Yusuf has got him back on a machine with his smoothest, most long-lasting formula to try to give him as much time as possible."
"How is his physical state? Pneumonia? Infection? Fever? Malnutrition?"
She blinked at the rapid-fire questions. She hadn't known any of those were a danger until the nurse had explained it to her when she was visiting Eames so frequently.
Of course, she didn't know why it really came as a surprise since there didn't seem to be a topic that Arthur wasn't well-versed in.
"They've managed to fight off all infections so far, but while no one is actually saying so to me, I think they're starting to lose hope. Officially, I don't think anyone even knows why he's under. We can only assume that he wound up in limbo-but we don't know why Collins is dead and Eames is still hanging in. There's no indication of how long it's going to last, but I think everyone is assuming that his days are numbered, and it's getting kind of … depressing."
"It usually does," Arthur muttered.
Ariadne wasn't certain that she was supposed to have heard, and she was definitely left with the feeling that there was a lot more going on than she realised.
Of course, when was that not the case?
They arrived at the private clinic where Saito had put Eames, slipping passed the door man who recognized her and never showed surprise when she was with someone. Saito had not come himself, and Yusef had confessed that he couldn't stand it, so she had not asked him to come back. Dom had only been able to visit twice, still trying to spend as much time with his kids as possible.
She totally understood, and she didn't blame him at all, but it had been a little rough on her-though she had always denied it when anyone asked-especially once she had realised that Arthur had been trying to get her out safely after the Forthwright job.
She couldn't help but feel guilty, a guilt that had compounded when Eames had been found comatose, only now here Arthur was, alive and well, and none of this was making any sense.
"What happened to you?"
She hadn't altogether meant to ask the question. She knew what a private person he was, but she had thought that he was dead for almost six months, everyone who had supported her in this life effectively removed or remote, one way or the other.
It had not been a pleasant feeling.
Arthur drew a deep breath and let it out through his nose. It looked as though he was maybe actually going to answer her, though the answer didn't seem to be pleasant, only then they had arrived at the private room, and all chance of getting an answer out of Arthur was gone the moment that he saw Eames.
Her breath caught at the rawness of it. It was the same way that she had seen Dom look at Mal, and it broke her heart.
"Oh, Eames."
It was barely a breath of sound, and Ariadne was altogether certain that Arthur had forgotten that she was even by his side as he moved further into the room as though drawn like a lodestone.
She closed the door to give them a little privacy and then tried to think about what Arthur was seeing. This was the first time that he had seen Eames since the Forthwright job. She closed her eyes and thought of the first time she had seen him in all his brash and bigger-than-life glory for the Fischer job.
She opened her eyes and barely suppressed a gasp. She'd known that Eames wasn't well; anyone who was in a coma was clearly not healthy, but she'd seen him every day for months now, and the changes had therefore been gradual enough that she hadn't completely put it together. But with Arthur's so obvious reaction now, it was brought home to her just how pale Eames was, no trace of the Mombasa tan on his cheeks anymore. His stillness was especially marked for a man normally so energetic, and he had lost a good thirty pounds-in the too fast, not exercising sort of way that made him look malnourished rather than trim or fit. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and he just…. He looked awful.
Arthur had laid one hand on the man's forehead and clasped a limp hand with the other. Ariadne was quite certain that she had never seen such a tender gesture towards Eames from Arthur before. Actually, possibly towards anyone.
She was contemplating whether she should make herself scarce because she really felt as though she was intruding when Arthur was suddenly heading for the door.
"I'll be back."
He was gone before she could question him, and she felt a bit as though she had been left in the wake of a hurricane.
Sinking into the chair next to Eames's bed, she pulled her totem out of her pocket and balanced it on the armrest. It tipped over towards the side with precisely the sound and weight it was supposed to, telling her that this was reality and she wasn't going insane.
She still wasn't altogether certain. She didn't think that Arthur was dealing with this very well, and she wasn't sure he was going to be coming back anytime soon-or maybe it was going to turn out that she had invented the entire thing, and he had never been here. That seemed distinctly possible.
She'd only just begun to seriously wonder if she should be phoning Dom or Saito or Yusuf to report that she'd lost her grip on reality when Arthur was suddenly back.
When she realised where he was heading, she leapt to her feet.
"You can't!" she yelped.
He shot her a look and just kept working. She'd never seen someone splice a line into a PASIV before, and she was momentarily distracted.
"No, really," she insisted when she managed to tear herself away from the mesmerising sight of his calm efficiency. "You can't. That's why he's hooked up to a single like that. Someone who's in a coma is in limbo, and it's not even normal limbo."
She'd heard enough horror stories when the others had been explaining to her why no one could go looking for Eames.
"I know."
The words were quiet and definite and … absolute. It was someone who had the knowledge and was choosing to make the stupid choice anyway. She wanted to object again, wanted to call Dom and tell him to get here now, but he couldn't, and she didn't.
This was Dom choosing to stay in limbo with Mal all over again, and it really didn't matter what anyone else said.
This didn't mean she could keep totally silent, though.
"I don't want this to become a room for two, Arthur."
He actually looked at her for a moment, though there was still that distance in her eyes that told her that he was already gone.
"I'll get him out. I promise."
And what was there to say to that? He couldn't possibly guarantee something like that, but he'd gone and done it anyway, done it with that certainty that he brought to everything dream-related.
He'd shown her Penrose stairs as though they made the most sense in the world. He'd synchronised their second kick stuck alone on a second dream level in zero-g.
And he looked at Eames with his heart in his eyes.
If anyone could do this, he could.
So she let him pull up a chair, didn't ask where he'd stolen the supplies from, and bit her tongue to prevent herself from asking him if he was sure about this. He had a disturbingly high chance of winding up in a coma or dead, and they both knew it.
He lay back in the chair, slipped the needle into a vein like the pro that he was, and smiled the smile meant to reassure before he looked back at Eames and then closed his eyes.
There was no kick here, no musical trigger. Arthur had to find Eames and get them both out, or the two of them would be dead.
~*~
On to Part Two (1)
Back to Part One
Disclaimer and author's note, etc., back in the Master Post
On the Wings of an Angel
text by phoenix.writing
illustrations by creepylicious
~ INTERLUDE ~
When Ariadne returned to her little Paris flat one evening and found Arthur in her living room, she let out a shriek of surprise that she would deny to her dying day and flung herself at him.
She hugged him desperately for a moment, squeezing him as tight as she could, and then she was hauling him to his feet and dragging him towards the door even as she gushed.
"Oh, my god, we thought you were dead. There isn't much time."
"What is it? What's happened?" he asked sharply. "Dom? The kids?"
She shook her head. "It's Eames. He's in a coma."
She was jerked to a stop by Arthur's cessation of motion, and she turned back to see that he was looking at her with an expression on his face that she had never seen before. It was too complicated for her to identify, but she could tell enough to know that it was not any of the expressions that she had anticipated that that news would garner.
"Come on," she urged sharply, tugging at his arm again. "They have no idea why he's held on as long as he has, but Collins has already died, and-"
"What?"
The word snapped through the air with the force of an expertly wielded whip.
She nodded, getting that he'd want news but not understanding why they couldn't play catch-up while they were moving.
"Eames searched for you everywhere, got Cobb and Saito and even Yusef involved, and when they couldn't find you, he assumed that Collins had eliminated you, some stupid plot, apparently, which Eames had tried to thwart by claiming that he was going to spy on you for Collins-like anyone would buy that." She huffed an incredulous laugh. "He went after Collins, and no one knows exactly what happened, but now Collins is dead and Eames in a coma, and it's been almost eight weeks now, and-"
Ariadne cut off abruptly, startled by their sudden motion, since Arthur was now yanking the two of them out of her flat, clattering down the stairs, and spilling the two of them onto the sidewalk with no regard for passers-by.
"Where are we going?" he demanded tersely.
She directed him to the clinic, and it wasn't until they were in the cab that he demanded, "Why there?"
"Saito had him moved for us, and since Cobb couldn't spare as much time, I'm keeping an eye on him."
"Symptoms?"
She looked at him worriedly. He was paler than he had been, and now wired so tensely that she was a little worried that he was going to explode.
He hadn't looked at her when he asked the question, and he now shot her a swift, piercing glare that made her sit up straighter.
She cleared her throat. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess. The PASIV had run dry by the time they were found, and Collins was dead. Eames has been non-responsive to all external stimuli since that time, but Yusuf has got him back on a machine with his smoothest, most long-lasting formula to try to give him as much time as possible."
"How is his physical state? Pneumonia? Infection? Fever? Malnutrition?"
She blinked at the rapid-fire questions. She hadn't known any of those were a danger until the nurse had explained it to her when she was visiting Eames so frequently.
Of course, she didn't know why it really came as a surprise since there didn't seem to be a topic that Arthur wasn't well-versed in.
"They've managed to fight off all infections so far, but while no one is actually saying so to me, I think they're starting to lose hope. Officially, I don't think anyone even knows why he's under. We can only assume that he wound up in limbo-but we don't know why Collins is dead and Eames is still hanging in. There's no indication of how long it's going to last, but I think everyone is assuming that his days are numbered, and it's getting kind of … depressing."
"It usually does," Arthur muttered.
Ariadne wasn't certain that she was supposed to have heard, and she was definitely left with the feeling that there was a lot more going on than she realised.
Of course, when was that not the case?
They arrived at the private clinic where Saito had put Eames, slipping passed the door man who recognized her and never showed surprise when she was with someone. Saito had not come himself, and Yusef had confessed that he couldn't stand it, so she had not asked him to come back. Dom had only been able to visit twice, still trying to spend as much time with his kids as possible.
She totally understood, and she didn't blame him at all, but it had been a little rough on her-though she had always denied it when anyone asked-especially once she had realised that Arthur had been trying to get her out safely after the Forthwright job.
She couldn't help but feel guilty, a guilt that had compounded when Eames had been found comatose, only now here Arthur was, alive and well, and none of this was making any sense.
"What happened to you?"
She hadn't altogether meant to ask the question. She knew what a private person he was, but she had thought that he was dead for almost six months, everyone who had supported her in this life effectively removed or remote, one way or the other.
It had not been a pleasant feeling.
Arthur drew a deep breath and let it out through his nose. It looked as though he was maybe actually going to answer her, though the answer didn't seem to be pleasant, only then they had arrived at the private room, and all chance of getting an answer out of Arthur was gone the moment that he saw Eames.
Her breath caught at the rawness of it. It was the same way that she had seen Dom look at Mal, and it broke her heart.
"Oh, Eames."
It was barely a breath of sound, and Ariadne was altogether certain that Arthur had forgotten that she was even by his side as he moved further into the room as though drawn like a lodestone.
She closed the door to give them a little privacy and then tried to think about what Arthur was seeing. This was the first time that he had seen Eames since the Forthwright job. She closed her eyes and thought of the first time she had seen him in all his brash and bigger-than-life glory for the Fischer job.
She opened her eyes and barely suppressed a gasp. She'd known that Eames wasn't well; anyone who was in a coma was clearly not healthy, but she'd seen him every day for months now, and the changes had therefore been gradual enough that she hadn't completely put it together. But with Arthur's so obvious reaction now, it was brought home to her just how pale Eames was, no trace of the Mombasa tan on his cheeks anymore. His stillness was especially marked for a man normally so energetic, and he had lost a good thirty pounds-in the too fast, not exercising sort of way that made him look malnourished rather than trim or fit. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and he just…. He looked awful.
Arthur had laid one hand on the man's forehead and clasped a limp hand with the other. Ariadne was quite certain that she had never seen such a tender gesture towards Eames from Arthur before. Actually, possibly towards anyone.
She was contemplating whether she should make herself scarce because she really felt as though she was intruding when Arthur was suddenly heading for the door.
"I'll be back."
He was gone before she could question him, and she felt a bit as though she had been left in the wake of a hurricane.
Sinking into the chair next to Eames's bed, she pulled her totem out of her pocket and balanced it on the armrest. It tipped over towards the side with precisely the sound and weight it was supposed to, telling her that this was reality and she wasn't going insane.
She still wasn't altogether certain. She didn't think that Arthur was dealing with this very well, and she wasn't sure he was going to be coming back anytime soon-or maybe it was going to turn out that she had invented the entire thing, and he had never been here. That seemed distinctly possible.
She'd only just begun to seriously wonder if she should be phoning Dom or Saito or Yusuf to report that she'd lost her grip on reality when Arthur was suddenly back.
When she realised where he was heading, she leapt to her feet.
"You can't!" she yelped.
He shot her a look and just kept working. She'd never seen someone splice a line into a PASIV before, and she was momentarily distracted.
"No, really," she insisted when she managed to tear herself away from the mesmerising sight of his calm efficiency. "You can't. That's why he's hooked up to a single like that. Someone who's in a coma is in limbo, and it's not even normal limbo."
She'd heard enough horror stories when the others had been explaining to her why no one could go looking for Eames.
"I know."
The words were quiet and definite and … absolute. It was someone who had the knowledge and was choosing to make the stupid choice anyway. She wanted to object again, wanted to call Dom and tell him to get here now, but he couldn't, and she didn't.
This was Dom choosing to stay in limbo with Mal all over again, and it really didn't matter what anyone else said.
This didn't mean she could keep totally silent, though.
"I don't want this to become a room for two, Arthur."
He actually looked at her for a moment, though there was still that distance in her eyes that told her that he was already gone.
"I'll get him out. I promise."
And what was there to say to that? He couldn't possibly guarantee something like that, but he'd gone and done it anyway, done it with that certainty that he brought to everything dream-related.
He'd shown her Penrose stairs as though they made the most sense in the world. He'd synchronised their second kick stuck alone on a second dream level in zero-g.
And he looked at Eames with his heart in his eyes.
If anyone could do this, he could.
So she let him pull up a chair, didn't ask where he'd stolen the supplies from, and bit her tongue to prevent herself from asking him if he was sure about this. He had a disturbingly high chance of winding up in a coma or dead, and they both knew it.
He lay back in the chair, slipped the needle into a vein like the pro that he was, and smiled the smile meant to reassure before he looked back at Eames and then closed his eyes.
There was no kick here, no musical trigger. Arthur had to find Eames and get them both out, or the two of them would be dead.
~*~
On to Part Two (1)