I'm afraid this is the last part for at least a while now... I have stupid exams coming up- and as much as I love writing for you guys and staring at the Hit Count, I am painfully aware that if I ever want to go anywhere with my writing- passing GCSE English would be a good start ;)
I hope whoever is reading this had enjoyed it- please let me know what you think of it as a whole :)
(oh, and a slightly random last request- if you leave a review, could you let me know where you're from? e.g. I'm from England...if you hadn't worked that out... ;D Not that I want to know in a I-want-to-stalk-you/hunt-you-down kind of way, because I really don't have the time, money or energy ;) But I'm just interested in who is actually reading this. I mean, the Traffic Stats said 4 people from Israel had visited this story? That boggled my mind slightly... :)
Anyway- I'll shut up now and let you get on- this part is extra long seeing as it's the last :)
30 minutes later, Ariadne was packed and ready to leave.
She had 5 and a half hours until Eames and Arthur should be arriving at the hospital, and already she was anxious to get there. Jeanne for once didn't tell her she was being ridiculous, but gave her a kiss on both cheeks and told her that Vivienne would throw a fit when she woke up to find her playmate gone- and that Ariadne better come round more often. Ariadne smiled, and hugged her friend tightly.
"Thank-you so much Jeanne, for understanding," she said sincerely.
"Urgh- enough with all this soppiness and affection Ari! I cannot take it!" Jeanne rolled her eyes dramatically, and practically pushed Ariadne out of the door.
Ariadne didn't go to the hospital straight away. She was desperate to see Eames and Arthur, but she wasn't so insane as to sit in a hospital waiting room for hours at a time.
She went back to her flat to drop off her stuff, and stopped to buy groceries on the way, remembering how the fridge would contain only the food she had left in it- no doubt past their sell-by-dates by now. Feeling the need to force herself to do something useful, she actually tidied the apartment, seeing as it was in a mess, and was content to look up from scrubbing the sink a while later to see that a whole hour had passed.
After that was done however, she found it harder and harder to find things to do. In order to stop her looking at the clock every 5 seconds, she decided to go into the city centre.
Paris was buzzing in the early evening light. The streets were full of people and it dawned on Ariadne that it was Friday night. Restaurants had put out extra tables on the pavements, musicians were playing on street corners, and the smell of delicious food made her stomach ache slightly. However, the sight of the numerous loved-up couples quickly put her off her hunger- the holding hands and tender expressions made her feel almost sick.
'3 hours to go Ariadne, you can hold out for 3 hours' she told herself fiercely.
She lasted another 8 minutes before catching the Metro to the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital.
The waiting room was well-equipped with coffee machines, magazines and comfortable chairs. She told the receptionist that she waiting for an Emergency Case from Boston, and the receptionist nodded politely in acknowledgment.
Then, Ariadne couldn't do much more than wait.
Time passed immeasurably slowly, painfully slowly, and she lost count of the number of coffees she drank. The minute hand inched round the clock, and Ariadne became so lost in how bloody bored she was, she realised with a sudden jolt that it was 8:15pm.
They were 15 minutes late.
Ariadne tried not to let this affect her. Planes were notoriously late, and there were any number of perfectly valid and reasonable explanations as to why they wouldn't be here exactly on time. 15 minutes probably wasn't even classified as late when it came to flying anyway, she told herself.
But an hour and a half definitely was.
She politely asked the receptionist, but the shifts had changed over, and this one seemed young, new and nervous, and couldn't help. When Ariadne asked a passing nurse if there was someone informed she could ask, she was told rather haughtily that this was a hospital and the people in charge were rather too busy saving lives, thank-you very much.
Ariadne's admiration of French Nurses, and in fact Nurses in general was considerably lowered for a while after that.
The clock ticked solemnly onwards to 10 o'clock. And now Ariadne was really worried but Friday night in Central Paris seemed to be the worst time to ask for anything- the place was frantic.
There was a television in the waiting-room that the nervous receptionist offered to turn on for her, but Ariadne politely refused. Partly because she couldn't stand late night TV and partly because she didn't want to have to watch the news and hear that some plane had crashed into the Atlantic Ocean on its way from America-
'NO Ariadne- stop being stupid' she told herself furiously. This wasn't going to help.
By midnight Ariadne was in tears. She tried not to show it, but the anxiety, frustration and tiredness was getting to her. She grabbed a doctor's arm desperately as he strode past, pleading for some information on the patient from Boston, but the doctor told her knew nothing about it, and if she didn't calm down he would have security remove her. She shut up after that.
00:30am.
1:27am.
1:58am.
2:24am
Ariadne looked up blearily at the clock. The reception room was quiet now. Less and less people passed through with each hour, and no-on stopped to ask why she was curled up across 3 armchairs. Such behaviour wasn't that uncommon she assumed. She was fighting with her heavy eye-lids to stay awake, and was managing- thanks mainly to the fear. The fear that they weren't coming. She was never going to see them again. Him again.
Fresh tears started up, and she wiped them away weakly. For fuck's sake! What had happened? Why were they 6 bloody hours late?
Suddenly, a door directly opposite her opened, making her start. She looked up and froze-
Eames was standing in the doorway, scruffy and tired and jetlagged but there. Stubble had grown across his jaw, his simple suit jacket was crumpled and creased, and the hand that ran wearily through his mussed hair shook slightly, but he was standing and alive and Ariadne was suddenly, painfully reminded of the moment she had opened her apartment door to see him on the doorstep, and the feelings that had coursed through her.
His eyes scanned the room briefly before resting on her. A small look of shock flitted across his features, before a lazy grin curved his lips.
Ariadne struggled to her feet, and ran over to him, forgetting her tiredness and worry. She stumbled as she reached him, and fell into him. He caught her, of course, strong, warm arms wrapping around her gently, and then tightening as he hugged her. Ariadne couldn't help it, she sobbed weakly into his chest, and Eames kissed the top of her head softly, stroking her back.
"Shush- s'alright pet," he muttered huskily, and his voice, God- how could she have forgotten? The phone calls didn't do it justice in the slightest.
Gradually however, it slowly dawned on Ariadne that she wasn't so content as she'd like, wrapped in Eames' arms. In fact, she was livid.
She pulled out of his grasp abruptly and took a step back, and the look of confusion and slight rejection on Eames' face remained there only for the brief second it took Ariadne to bring her hand to up to the side of his face in a sharp smack.
To his credit, Eames only flinched. He brought a hand to his stinging cheek and frowned angrily, "What the fuck was that for?" he demanded.
"6 hours Eames! I waited for 6 hours! I mean- it's been fucking hard enough not knowing where you are or what you're doing, but making me wait an extra 6 bloody hours?" her voice had risen almost to a shriek, and the receptionist glanced their way, looking even more nervous.
A look of comprehension ghosted Eames' expression, before hardening, "Well it's not my fault, I didn't invent bloody complicated time zones! How was I supposed to know?"
"You could have just asked someone seeing as you are so clearly incapable of working that one out yourself-" she hissed.
"You know I'm crap at Maths!" Eames said defensively, "And actually Ariadne, I've had slightly more pressing matters on my mind recently- like trying not to get fucking killed for a start." He breathed heavily, brow furrowed. "Anyway, you had a whole 6 hours to work it out - what did you think had happened for fuck's sake?"
"I- I..." Ariadne trailed off, because already the anger was dying within her, and she couldn't take her eyes off the angry red mark on Eames' cheek and now that she looked- his face was not in as good condition as she remembered anyway. A large gash was just healing across his forehead, his lip was bleeding, and there was purple swelling at his temple, not to mention numerous other cuts and nicks. He glared at her, his blue eyes narrowed, and she felt, all in an instant, utterly awful.
"Oh crap- Eames I'm sorry, that was horrid of me," she mumbled, and lowered her head, closing her eyes against the tears (how many times could she cry in one day?)
There was a brief pause, before a large hand was cradling the side of her face. She leaned into his touch without hesitation. "Well, I think the slap was a little uncalled for, but I'm glad to know that you can look after yourself Ari," he murmured teasingly, and she looked up at the half-smile playing on his lips.
"I've missed you like hell," she told him quietly, watching his expression soften. He pulled her back against his broad chest. She could feel the steady heartbeat through his shirt.
"Glad to know the feeling's mutual darling," he muttered roughly next to her ear, his breath warm on her cheek, and Ariadne lifted her head so she could kiss him hard on those beautiful lips.
She immediately regretted it when Eames winced in pain. In her brief moment of uncontrollable desire, she had forgotten about the cut. She could taste the blood on her tongue.
"Sorry," she breathed, pulling back, trying to control the frantic rate at which her heart had deemed necessary to beat at as a reaction to a second-long kiss with Eames.
"Don't worry about it," he told her firmly, leaning down to capture her lips again- but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Eames- has someone looked at these injuries?" she enquired, and Eames gave a sigh in frustration.
"It's nothing serious," he insisted, and leant in again, grazing his teeth along her bottom lip. Ariadne shuddered briefly, before regaining control and pushing back against him more forcefully. Eames could have easily ignored that gesture, but he moved back with a resigned expression.
"Why am I not allowed to kiss you anymore?" he said roughly, pouting slightly. Ariadne ignored the fluttering in her chest at his words.
"Because- you are injured, and there is no point doing something if you aren't well enough to do it properly."
Eames raised a single eyebrow at her poor reasoning, smiling slightly.
"Anyway- I want to see Arthur." Eames' expression changed in an instant, suddenly serious and understanding.
"Of course," he said simply, and wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her out of the reception.
Eames led Ariadne down the white-washed corridors through large swing-doors, past various night-shift doctors and nurses. He seemed to know where he was going however, through the maze of identical passages, and soon enough, he steered her into an area of the hospital which Ariadne translated was designated for 'Long-term Residents'. Finally, Eames came to a halt outside a door labelled with 'Monsieur. Grahams'.
Ariadne turned to look up at Eames, a question forming on her lips, but Eames guessed before she had time to speak- "not his real name of course". Ariadne suddenly felt nervous, standing in front of the door. Arthur was badly injured, so badly that at one point, Eames had been grateful for the mere fact he was alive.
Eames sensed her hesitation, and gently reached around to push open the door.
The room was quite dark, aside a small lamp on the bed-side table. A nurse was standing by Arthur's side, taking notes of the machine readings surrounding him. She looked up on their entering and smiled.
"Are you going to stay with him?" she asked quietly, and in perfect English.
"Yes, if that's alright," Eames replied softly, and the nurse nodded, before leaving the room briskly.
Ariadne approached the bed, her breath hitching in her throat. Arthur was so pale. He was practically as white as the sheets, his dark hair hanging loose around his face, eyes closed peacefully. There was a large dressing on the side of his head, and angry bruises spread across the left side of his face. His left arm was in cast up to the shoulder, and various wires and drips were attached to his right wrist. His cheeks were hollowed, his features a little too sharp, and Ariadne was grateful that the blanket covered the rest of him, because she knew it would be just as bad everywhere else. Still, the steady bleep of his heart monitor told her that at least was alive.
Eames' hand tightening around her waist slightly and she looked up at him. His eyes were locked on Arthur's face, and his expression could only be described as... fiercely protective. Her chest tightened with emotion, and she gave his hand a comforting squeeze. She wanted to know what had happened exactly, but she knew that that topic might be a little too painful for Eames to talk about so soon.
"There's only one bed," she whispered, and Eames looked away suddenly, turning to see where Ariadne was pointing. There was only one single over-night visitor bed, and it was a slim bed at that.
"Ah- well, I'm sure we'll manage darling," he breathed jovially into her ear, gently kissing her temple.
It certainly was a tight fit. Even with Eames' back pressed against the wall lying on his side; Ariadne was still practically falling off onto the floor. Eames flung the duvet over the both of them, and then wrapped his arm around her middle beneath it, securing her to him. She relished the warmth and contact, realising just how much she'd missed it while he'd been gone. She snuggled backwards against him, and turned her head so she could just make out his profile in the dim light.
"Eames?" she murmured.
"Hmm?" he replied sleepily.
"Next time, I'm coming with you. I won't let you go without me again."
She felt his chest shake as he laughed softly.
"I don't doubt that Ari, I really don't doubt that in the slightest," he muttered huskily, and kissed her chastely on the cheek.
When Ariadne woke, light was streaming into the small room, and she was very warm. Too warm for comfort. She shifted Eames' heavy arm, and slowly manoeuvred out of his hold. He grumbled feebly, and Ariadne just smiled. She eyed a mirror on the other side of the room, and, seeing her reflection, rushed over to try and sort out her hair.
She groaned quietly at her reflection- she was a complete mess. She began raking her fingers through the mad tangle on her head, when she heard a dry, quiet chuckle behind her. Arthur was smiling at her, his tired injured face, creasing the way she remembered it always had.
"Arthur!" she almost squealed, and fell quickly into the chair by his side, scanning his face desperately. "How are you feeling?"
His smile got broader, and although there was pain in his eyes, he wasn't ever going to admit to it.
"Well, I've been better," he admitted softly, his voice rough, and he shifted slightly, wincing.
Ariadne scanned the bedside table and the room- surely the kept some form of medication around? Her eyes fell back on Arthur, and she briefly caught sight of his leg where the duvet had slipped back. She breathed in sharply. It was in cast too. From the ankle up to the knee. Christ- just how badly injured was he?
Arthur was frowning at her, and Ariadne knew he didn't want her to be worried.
"It could have been a lot worse you know," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "I honestly don't think I'd be here if Eames hadn't got to me when he did..." Ariadne's gaze flickered to Eames' sleeping form on the bed, his relaxed features and the steady, constant rise and fall of his chest. Her heart swelled.
"But don't tell him I said that," Arthur muttered darkly, "he'll never let me forget it."
Ariadne smiled down at him. Were all men so bloody ashamed of their feelings? Or was it just these two? She decided that it was probably just Arthur and Eames.
She took Arthur's pale good hand in hers', and squeezed gently. He looked up in surprise, before giving that heart-breaking smile again, and holding her hand a little tighter.
"What happened Arthur?" she asked quietly, and immediately regretted it as a flash of pain flitted across his features.
"You don't have to tell me, I underst-" she rushed apologetically, feeling foolish for even considering asking him such a question in his condition-
"No, no, it's alright," he told her, letting go of her hand so he could wave it feebly in what Ariadne assumed was meant to be a dismissive manner. He glared at his right hand for a second, as though annoyed it wouldn't co-operate properly, then let it fall back onto the bed.
"I don't think he would be happy about telling you anyway," he said quietly, eyes drifting to Eames on the bed and back again. He took a deep, slightly shaky breath and began-
"I went to New York after the Fischer job, I have an apartment there," this made Ariadne smile because it was so Arthur it was unreal- "and thought I'd lie low for a while there. I had no idea of how much of a struggle it was for you to get back to normal. Still, I tried to convince Eames that the best way of helping you was to let yourself find your own way. I was wrong, and I deeply regret not calling you," his voice was twisted with remorse and self-hatred, and his gaze was so sincere and honest that Ariadne forgave him on the spot. She nodded weakly as though she understood, and Arthur continued.
"Well, it was fine for a while- I even managed to do a couple of jobs while in New York. Eames called every now and then-"
"Wait- Eames called you regularly?" Ariadne interrupted, eyebrow raised. As far as she knew, Eames had spoken to Arthur only once since the job, when he'd picked up the phone in her apartment. "He never told me that."
"We decided it would be best for you to try and get back to normal. Eames was helping you do that, and I would just remind you too much of what had happened," he told her, "He rang about once a week."
Ariadne frowned across at Eames' slumbering form. They were going to have words when he woke up.
"Anyway, I was contacted about a different job a couple of weeks ago. The pay was good. Unusually good, and I knew from the beginning it was suspicious. I took as many precautions as possible when I had to go to the rendezvous, but obviously I wasn't careful enough," and he scowled down at his injured body as though it had betrayed him.
"It was Cobol. And they weren't exactly happy to see me," said Arthur delicately, and Ariadne tensed, knowing they were approaching a point where Arthur might not want to go any further. "They wanted to let me know how they didn't except failure. Well, they certainly did that..." Arthur's mouth closed in a hard line, "but I knew something was wrong. If it was just about the job we'd failed, they would have killed me by the end of the day. They wanted-" he stopped suddenly, face twisted into a pained grimace. Ariadne's hand fluttered uselessly over him.
"What? Arthur what is it?" she panicked when he didn't immediately reply.
"Help...help me up, please," he muttered, and Ariadne instantly moved up the pillows behind his head and, holding onto his good arm and easing him upright. Arthur's face had gone paler, and his eyes were clenched shut.
"They wanted me to help them perform inception on Cobb," he whispered hoarsely, so quietly that Ariadne barely heard it. She froze in shock.
"Shit..." she breathed, eyes on Arthur's pained face.
"Yeah, well, I thought so too," said Arthur quietly, eyes opening and a small half-smile on his lips. "I told them they could do their worst but I would never betray him...Bad choice of words as it turned out..."
Ariadne, afraid to touch any other part of him, took his hand in hers again, trying to offer some comfort.
"I don't really remember much after that, only that I was there for a while and then Eames turned up. He'd got himself caught, the idiot in order to find where I was, but he was in better condition, stronger than me, and angry..." Arthur emphasised the word in such a way that made Ariadne shiver. She had never seen Eames properly angry, and now she was pretty sure she didn't want to.
"And, well, people always make the mistake of under-estimating Eames..." and Arthur was smiling now, and shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Ariadne grinned at that, because she had certainly made that mistake too.
"We were there for a while, but Eames had called in a few people who owed him, and somehow, he got us out. He contacted Cobb, told him to get into hiding, and then decided to inform me that we were flying back to Paris and I really didn't have much choice in the matter, because he'd already told you we were coming." Arthur chuckled softly, before breaking off into shuddering coughs.
"What he did forget to tell me was the correct time he'd be arriving, factoring in the bloody time difference..." she muttered, but she knew she sounded so ridiculously affectionate that her words meant nothing. Arthur smiled, and they fell into a comfortable silence.
"So, I assume that you are together?" Arthur asked, gesturing between Eames and Ariadne. She watched his expression, suddenly anxious, as though he might not approve, but he was still smiling gently, and his voice held no trace of resentment and judgment- only slight amusement.
"...Well, I mean- we haven't talked about it, but, I suppose so...Yes." she stuttered weakly, and Arthur nodded knowingly.
"He'll look after you, that's for sure, and his heart is in the right place," Arthur said it so seriously that Ariadne was almost pained to be reminded just how kind and sincere he was. "But," he added, grinning mischievously, "I honestly think you could do better Ariadne- someone with a more refined sense of humour perhaps? Better taste in fashion?"
"Oi- m'awake you know," came the sleepy protest from the bed, and Ariadne jumped slightly. She made brief eye contact with Arthur- just how long had he been listening?
"And my sense o'humour is perfeckly refined," Eames mumbled grumpily into the pillow and Arthur laughed, putting Ariadne at ease.
"You lie Eames- what did you say to me when they were taking me into surgery? 'Break a leg' was it?" Arthur asked, grinning.
Ariadne groaned in exasperation, "Eames-tell me you didn't-"
"I was trying to lighten the bloody atmosphere!" Eames opened his eyes and glared at the two of them, "Christ- it felt more like a fucking mortuary than a hospital..." and he shifted into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes drowsily.
"Eames- no-one laughed. It was the coldest reception to a joke in history." Arthur reminded him.
"Yeah well, Americans have an odd perception of what's funny anyway- they think people falling over are classed as entertainment," said Eames, a look of disgust on his face, as if this was the strangest thing he'd ever heard of.
Ariadne laughed, and got up to move round the bed towards him. Eames caught her wrist and pulled him down next to her, kissing her lightly on the lips and then the cheek.
Ariadne glanced nervously up at Arthur, unsure of his reaction, but he was just smiling at the ceiling, clearly very amused.
"Arthur?" she asked warily.
"Go ahead- it doesn't bother me, but if it gets too intimate, I swear I will die on you," he threatened, closing his eyes.
Eames chuckled. "I'd like to see you try that darling, you're pumped with enough drugs to keep a dozen people breathing and interrupting perfectly reasonable kisses," and he moved back to kiss Ariadne's neck. She shivered involuntarily.
"Ah- Eames, you underestimate me. All I have to do is pull this wire out," he gestured, eyes still closed, to a thin red wire protruding from his wrist, "and the heart monitor will register that my heart has stopped beating. An alarm will go off and every doctor and nurse in a 3 corridor radius will be in this room in less than 20 seconds." Arthur fought to contain a smile, knowing he'd won.
Eames groaned in frustration. "You know Ariadne, I think I liked him better when he was unconscious..." he muttered.
"Eames!" Ariadne chided shaking her head. She hit his arm playfully, "you really know how to be inappropriate."
Eames raised a single eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips- and Ariadne hit him again, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
"Ariadne- if you value my sanity, you will have hit him just now," Arthur said from the bed, eyes still closed.
Ariadne giggled, and Eames sighed, leaning against her.
"I can't believe I asked him to come and stay with us when he gets out..." Eames grumbled into Ariadne's shoulder.
"Really? Arthur's coming to stay?" Ariadne asked delightedly.
"Well- he's going to be bloody bedridden for a few months, and I had to sign on the forms saying I was his next of kin- 'Brother', Ariadne, 'Brother'" he told her quickly at her amused expression.
"We'd be happy to have you Arthur," she said loudly, grinning at Eames' face.
"Thank-you Ariadne, I'll try and keep out of the way," came Arthur's sincere reply.
Eames sighed dramatically and fell back on the bed.
"Why?" he asked no-one in particular, scowling at the ceiling.
"Now come on Eames, you love us really," Ariadne scolded him humouredly, patting his leg.
Eames didn't deny it straight away, and Arthur laughed from the bed.
"I can almost feel the emotional conflict from here Eames," he teased lightly.
"Shut-up you arse," Eames muttered, and pulled Ariadne down next to him. She stared at him expectantly. At his raised eyebrow, she gave him the look.
He gave another ridiculous sigh.
"I hate you both- but fine, if you bloody insist, fine." Ariadne grinned, and reached up to kiss up him on the cheek.
"Don't worry Eames, it's going to be fun," she insisted, and at Eames' oh-I-highly-doubt-that expression she laughed.
Maybe- just maybe, things were going to turn out alright for once.
(So sad it's over for now :( And i'm sorry for people who didn't want Arthur to make an appearence, but I love him too much to leave him out completely ;)
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