A single glance is all it takes
Blurb: The four times Arthur and Ariadne just missed each other, and the one time they didn't. – Arthur/Ariadne
A/N: Hope this is okay. Took me ages to write, and I would love to hear your thoughts. Remember; don't read without reviewing – even if it is only a few words. Thanks!
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Friday 20th October:
His eyes immediately sought her out across the crowded airport waiting room. She was sitting in a corner, huddled over some book or another, her hair still damp with rainwater. The air was filled with the musty smell of damp clothing, but remarkably he noticed that her scarf – a cream cashmere one this time – had remained miraculously dry. He, like her scarf, had stayed perfectly dry too.
Patiently and quietly, he stood to the side of a white pillar with one hand in his pocket – no doubt clenching his totem – whilst the other hand clasped the handle of a black briefcase. He'd been standing there for almost four minutes, waiting for her to look up; to notice him. He thought for a moment about walking over to her, but that was not the way it was done. After each job, there was to be no contact with the rest of the team unless something came up. And so far, nothing had.
Several more minutes passed, and when she didn't look up as his gate was being called, he sighed and turned away, frustrated at that one missed chance.
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Tuesday 12th December:
She spotted him the reflection of car window, just outside her favourite café. It was a glance and a fleeting one at that, but she was sure that she had spotted him. There had been no mistaking the neat suit and slicked back hair – not for anything. But when she had tried to get a closer look, her own breath misting on the window had marred her vision and the moment had been lost.
Whilst looking, her coffee had been left to go cold on the table in front of her.
-:-
Wednesday 27th March:
On a train, going westbound to Le Harve he'd spotted her on the platform at one of the various stations stops. She'd been wearing a grey overcoat that seemed too big for her and a plain black scarf. Then, on closer inspection, he realised that she'd been wearing all black. He remembers thinking, who had died? Who and what had they been to her? Was it a relative? A friend? A boyfriend?
In all his time during the job, he recognized that he'd never once bothered to find out anything useful about her. All he'd seen was her talent and her ability to perform the job. He'd never actually viewed her as a person, even with that kiss, and for once, despite his professionalism he felt guilty about it. But it seemed too late to change things now.
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Monday 5th May:
This time, she was in London when she saw him, and unlike last time, she was sure of it. The place was the Tate Modern and despite the influx of tourists, Ariadne had picked out his face easily. He was wearing dark glasses and a smart black three-piece suit with a blood red tie. But she couldn't shout out to him and couldn't follow him because it wasn't Arthur in the flesh. It was a photograph of him, stuck on a wall amongst a montage of others, showing Times Square at different times during the day.
He obviously hadn't known that it had been taken, and she suppressed a smile at the thought. If he knew that a picture of him was hanging in the Tate Gallery, he would have probably changed it in the dead of night without anyone knowing about the picture or that he'd done it. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to the picture and touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips, wishing that she'd had the chance to get to know him better.
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Saturday 4th July:
They finally crossed paths on American Independence Day, nearly a whole year after the Fischer job had been completed. Ariadne had been in New Jersey, visiting her relatives and using up the final dregs of the pay check she had been given, to catch a flight home. When she stepped into the airport waiting room at New York, she had to stop herself from gasping aloud. For there, right in front of her, was Arthur looking as formal as ever.
"A-Arthur?" she called out, slightly nervous that it wasn't him, when he turned around and her heart instantly dropped down into her stomach. It was him.
A look of sheer disbelief crossed his face as their gazes locked for a moment. Blinking once or twice, he quickly broke the silence. "Ariadne? What brings you to New York?" his words still littered with incredulity, making the sentence sound alien and forced.
"Just visiting my family. T-thought it would be appropriate celebrating Independence Day at home rather than in France," she replied nervously, as she took in Arthur's tone of voice. He didn't believe that she was here. Was that a bad thing?
He nodded, seemingly in agreement. "Of course,"
Shifting awkwardly, she decided to address the matter at hand: the big white elephant in the room. "You don't believe that I'm actually here, do you?" she said, tilting her head to one side, trying to assess his body language.
"No, not really," he responded, proffering a tight smile, "It's not often that you see colleagues outside of the job,"
"Yeah, well it's not exactly what you would call a 'usual job', is it?" she said jokily, smiling in response.
A quiet mummer of agreement escaped Arthurs lips, as he nodded. His eyes looked seemingly absent for a moment, before he snapped back to full attention with something apparently on his mind.
"Say Ariadne, you wouldn't mind getting some coffee with me? Whilst we wait for our flights?"
She nodded, trying not to smile too much at his offer. "Sure, that sounds fine. My flights at eleven, though. When's yours?"
"Ten past. Don't worry, I'll make sure you make it in time to the gate," he smiled slyly, before placing his hand in his pocket, no doubt skimming it over his totem.
Her hand automatically went to hers.
"I'm sure you will."
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