Ariadne did not find out Arthur was dead until nearly a week after he was killed. He had left to go on a job and when she did not hear from him right away she assumed that he was too invested in his research to call her. It was not the first time it had happened so Ariadne was not worried. They had been together nearly a year and Ariadne's studies kept her in Paris most of the time instead of on jobs. It did not bother her as much as Arthur seemed to think it did so she never resented him for continuing to work. Ariadne knew that if given the choice he would more than likely choose work over her and that was not something she wanted to contemplate. It was nearly three in the morning almost a week and a half after Arthur had left that the sound of someone knocking on her door woke Ariadne up. She rubbed her eyes and crawled out of bed, nowhere near awake. She ran her fingers through her hair as she opened the door and found Eames standing in front of her. He looked a little pale and his eyes did not have that same mischievous gleam that they usually did.
“Eames? What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Ariadne asked but the forger just stared at her.
“Can I come in?” he asked and she nodded. They both sat down on the couch in the family room. When he did not say anything Ariadne found herself getting very nervous; this was not like Eames at all.
“Eames, what's going on?” she asked. Eames hesitated before he reached into his pocket and set something on the table. Ariadne felt her heart skip a beat when she saw a red loaded die. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and tried to find words but none seemed to come. “Why do you have that?”
“The mark got wind of Arthur while he was doing his profiling. They knew he was there so they essentially led him into a trap. When he wouldn't give away who he was working for or why he was following them they--” Eames cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I found this on a jacket left outside the hideout. There was no note, no explanation, just Arthur's jacket covered in blood and the die in the pocket.” Ariadne felt like she could not breathe. Something inside snapped and she was not sure what it was. Suddenly she could not think straight. She tried to form a coherent sentence but everything just seemed like such a mess that she could not understand. Her own thought process seemed like it was skipping like a scratched record. Ariadne felt Eames pull her close and hug her tightly but she hardly noticed he was there. He whispered something in her ear, she was not even sure what it was, and the tears would not stop. She cried until there was nothing left.
It was a month later that the real world became too much to handle and Ariadne went into a dream. Cobb had called and warned her about trying to keep Arthur alive in her head like he had done with Mal but she assured him that she would not do that. After she hung up she mentally added that she never wanted to see Arthur corrupted the way Mal had been. The needle went into her arm and for some reason it felt like it hurt more than she remembered. The chemicals soared through her body and everything faded.
Ariadne was standing in the hotel she had built for the Fischer job. Her own projections were busying themselves throughout the lobby and she felt so out of place. She was not wearing the gray suit that she had worn back then, just her normal clothes, and she felt like a stranger in her own dream. Without realizing it Ariadne reached into her pocket and pulled out Arthur's red die. She turned it over in her hands a few times and began to walk across the lobby. She was not surprised when she ended up on the couch where Arthur had said 'quick, give me a kiss' so long ago. Ariadne clutched the die in her hand and closed her eyes tightly.
It was the feeling of someone sitting next to her that forced Ariadne to open her eyes. She blinked a few times and saw Arthur sitting next to her, completely relaxed, in one of his perfectly pressed suits. The word 'relief' was not enough to describe how she suddenly felt but the realization that she was in a dream, that he was not real, felt like someone had dropped her in cold water.
“What are you doing here, Arthur?” she asked carefully.
“You know why,” he replied evenly and he looked at her. His brown eyes made her heart skip a beat. “You're not supposed to have that.” He gestured to the die in her hand.
“I know but you're not here anymore, Arthur. You're dead,” Ariadne whispered. Saying it out loud hurt more than she thought it would.
“I know. I'm a projection, Ariadne, if you're aware that I'm dead then I'm aware I'm dead,” he said as he leaned forward and stared at her. “Quick, give me a kiss.” She could not help it, she laughed, and smiled at the man she loved so much.
“It's worth a shot?” Ariadne asked and Arthur grinned at her before he leaned forward and stole her lips into a kiss. It was like reality, he felt real, he tasted real, everything about him felt so real. Without even thinking she reached forward and put her arms around him. She could feels the eyes of her projections glance her way for only a moment as he pushed her back against the couch. It felt so right, she could get lost with him, and it felt so real. That lingering notion of how real it felt made Ariadne pull away quickly, the die tumbling to the floor.
“What's wrong? Isn't this what you want?” he asked and he genuinely looked confused. Ariadne pulled the die into her hand and held it tight.
“I won't let you become my Mal. I won't hold onto you like that,” she whispered. “I need to let you go before it's too late.”
“But you can't, you don't want to, and why would you do something that you don't want to do? It isn't logical,” Arthur replied creasing his eyebrows deeply. “I don't understand.”
“You're right, I don't want to let you go, but sometimes you have to because there aren't any other options. I don't want to get lost, I don't want to twist you into something you're not, I want my memories of you to be true to what you were really like on the outside,” Ariadne said and she placed a hand on his cheek. His eyes, those eyes she used to think she could stare at forever, glanced at her hand and then back at her.
“I love you,” Arthur said.
Ariadne woke up and wiped the tears from her eyes. She was not sure if she meant it, if she could really let him go, but it seemed like she had no other choice. She took his die, his connection to the real world, and held it like it was her lifeline.
The next morning she brought it to a jeweler and had the die made into a necklace.
It was an accident. That was what Eames, Cobb, everyone kept telling Arthur, that it was an accident. He had been with Ariadne on a job in some city that he cannot even remember the name of anymore. They were wandering around when she said that she wanted to go explore the city some more, look at local art, everything and anything that caught her eye. Arthur had long accepted that Ariadne did not have the tunnel vision focus that he had and that she could not work non-stop all the time. They had time since they were already ahead of schedule so he saw no need to force her to sit down and work. Instead Arthur kissed the top of her head and had her promise not to get thrown out of any museums again since she was starting to get extremely good at it. Ariadne beamed at him, insisted that she would be on her best behavior, and hailed a cab. He watched her get into the car and she turned to wave as it drove away. Arthur waved back, Ariadne blew him a kiss, the car turned a corner and that was the last time he saw her alive.
It was not until the sun went down that he really started to worry. Ariadne was known for staying in exhibits until security forced her out, there had been an incident in Venice that was almost embarrassing, but she was always back at the hotel in time for them to get dinner. Now the night was in full bloom and Arthur could not for the life of him figure out where his architect could have gone. He called her phone but it went straight to voice mail. Her voice told him to leave a message before there was a beep. He did not leave a message, he never did, but he was not entirely surprised that she had her phone off. Arthur had once called while she was staring at a cathedral in Austria and Ariadne had chastised him for a week for disturbing her 'moment' with the building. He had laughed, she had laughed, and they had held each other close. Still, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Arthur gathered his things and wandered into the city. The people around him bustled about but he had his eyes open for a girl with a scarf and brown hair. Arthur rounded a corner and froze where he was. In front of him there was a mess of people and emergency personnel. He could hear whispers from the onlookers about how a bus had collided with another car, causing a number of fatalitiest. It was like every instinct in his body took over and he pushed his way through the people. An emergency technician stopped him.
“You can't go in there, sir,” he said.
“My girlfriend was on that bus. I need to see if she's okay,” Arthur lied but for some reason it felt like there was far too much truth to the statement. Along the side of the road there was a line of bodies covered in sheets and he just could not stop his heart from pounding. The worker argued before Arthur shoved him a pile of bills and rushed over. Ariadne had never mentioned taking a bus home so why was he so convinced she was here? He peeked underneath the sheets until locks of familiar brown hair caught his eye. Arthur pulled the cloth back and found Ariadne lying there, completely still. Her body looked bruised and broken, her skin ashen and her clothes soaked in blood, and he did not need to touch her skin to know she was cold.
He had no right to claim her, they would not let him, and she had her proper ID on her. The police would call her family and they would come. Arthur was nonexistent to them and he had no right to her. He left the city that night and flew to LA. He found Cobb who assured him that he had done nothing wrong. Eames came and took him to a cheap bar where Arthur drowned himself in cheap booze. An accident, it was an accident, he had done nothing wrong, that was what everyone kept telling him but Arthur could not shake this heavy feeling in his chest. Somehow this was his fault, it was no accident, this could have been prevented, he was sure of it.
He was alone in a hotel room in the middle of LA six weeks later. In one hand he held an empty bottle of vodka and in the other a glass. Arthur downed the rest of the liquid and tossed the glass aside. His eyes fell on the PASIV and all he could think of were the levels she had built, the places they had designed together, and he did not hesitate when he pulled the line, inserted the needle and let the chemicals take over his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was a bad idea to go under after drinking but he did not care.
Arthur was standing in a city that was endless. There were streets in all directions that went everywhere and nowhere. It was the type of place that Ariadne would spend hours in and they would get lost together until it was time to wake up. She always led him through the maze, already got him where he needed to be, she was his guiding light. A hand took his and Arthur looked down to see Ariadne smiling up at him.
“Come on,” she said and she pulled him through the city. Arthur did not know what to say, she was his projection of her, he knew that, but he just let her pull him along. They walked for what felt like hours until they got to what he assumed was the center of the maze. It was a park that looked so peaceful that he could fall asleep in it. “Isn't this beautiful?”
“It is but,” Arthur stopped and Ariadne turned to look at him. “This isn't real.”
“Of course it isn't. You know that as much as I do but that doesn't make it any less peaceful,” she said. “Come on.”
“Ariadne, I can't go with you,” Arthur whispered and she creased her eyebrows.
“You always followed me through the maze. Don't you trust me?” Ariadne asked. He pulled her close and held her tight.
“You know I do, I trust my projection of you just as much as I would the real you, but that doesn't mean I should follow,” he said and she looked up at him. She ran a finger along his jawline and Arthur had to ignore the shiver it sent down his spine.
“We can build here too, if you want, just you and me,” Ariadne said. “Don't you want to stay with me?” She moved his hand to her chest and placed it over her heart. “This beats for you, it always will, but only here. You can't feel this up above.”
“I can't, I just can't, because you aren't real. You're just my memory of the girl I loved and I can't even begin to replicate her perfectly.” Arthur used his thumb to wipe away her tears. “I'll keep you in my heart but not here. I'll hold onto your memory but it can't come here, I can't stay with my memories, because they're only memories.”
“But you love me. You weren't there when I died. How can you walk away now?” she asked and Arthur had to close his eyes tightly because he could not look her in the eye.
“It was an accident, Ariadne,” he said after a long silence. He opened his eyes and stared down at her. “I'm sorry I wasn't there but it wasn't my fault. There wasn't anything I could do, sometimes things happen. It was an accident.” If his projection of Ariadne had anything else to say he did not know because Arthur was staring at his hotel ceiling. The vodka sat in his system and between that and the dream he felt completely disoriented. He closed his eyes tightly and lay completely still as he waited for the room to stop spinning, for everything to slow down, for it all to make sense again.
Later that spring Ariadne's family visited her grave. They were extremely puzzled to find a single bishop sitting on the stone.
Arthur was on a job when he got a call from Eames. The conversation was short because the forger was complaining about being bored and how he needed something to do. It was enough to make Arthur groan and roll his eyes but he was powerless to resist Eames. They had seen each other on and off for years and they were currently in another one of their 'on' periods. He was not sure why they kept going back to each other because every time they broke it off it ended so poorly. They had almost nothing in common and all they did was argue with each other when they were together. Maybe that was the appeal; Eames was the only person who would call Arthur out on his bullshit and force him out of his comfort zone. The forger would drag him halfway across the world just to see something stupid. He was the first person in years to not only get the point man out of a suit but into a t-shirt and shorts to see some secret beach. Through all of the romance somewhere along the line it always went wrong and it ended with one of them storming out.
“Come on Arthur tell me where you are,” Eames said.
“I'm on a job, that's where I am,” Arthur retorted and rubbed his temples.
“So tell me where that is and I'll come help,” he said.
“We don't need a forger,” the point man said.
“So I'll watch the bloody PASIV. Just tell me where you are Arthur or I'm going to start asking around until I get my answer,” Eames threatened.
“Fine,” Arthur said giving up. “I'm in Moscow and the job is set to happen in a week so you better get here fast.”
“I'll jump on the next plane for you, darling,” Eames said and he hung up. Arthur had long since given up arguing with Eames about the pet names because it was just irritating to try and counter them. Eames made it out to the city the next morning and seemed to ignore the jet lag. For the next week they put the finishing touches on the job and the forger stayed behind to watch the PASIV. He saluted the point man with a tap to the temple and the world faded away. After about twenty minutes, the entire dream started to collapse. The extractor and architect both fell and suddenly Arthur was alone with the projections. He turned the gun on himself and his eyes snapped open.
There was blood on the ground all around him and the first thing he saw were the bodies of his architect and extractor with bullets in their heads. Panic settled in and he saw an armed bodyguard dead on the ground and Eames next to him clutching at a bullet hole in his stomach. Arthur ripped the IV from his arm and rushed to Eames' side but the forger was already fading. He tried to keep pressure on the wound but Eames just smiled up at him. Arthur had no words, he could not find them, and he stayed with the forger until he died.
The hardest part was that he had to leave Eames' body behind. The rest of the guards were on the way and Arthur could not move a body and get out on his own. He barely had time to pack the PASIV and get out the building before someone shot him too. He got back to the warehouse and saw the blood on his hands, on his shirt, everywhere, Eames' blood, and nearly cracked. Arthur washed his hands and threw away the shirt before he fled the country. Only once he was sure he was as far away as he could get without killing himself with jet lag and lack of sleep did he stop in a hotel. He stayed there for a week in shock before he went back to Moscow, tracked down the mark and his guards that had gotten Eames killed, and executed them all without remorse. Now he was alone nearly a month later before he decided to go into a dream if only to escape reality.
The first thing he realized was that he was in a casino. Arthur rarely dreamed about casinos anymore but he could not hide his surprise when he saw Eames sitting at a table. The forger gestured for Arthur to join him and the point man sat at the table.
“Just likes old times. I do the gambling and you count the cards so we both win big,” Eames said. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did you really expect me not to show up in your dreams?”
“No, I did, I guess I had just convinced myself otherwise,” Arthur replied and he felt like his shoulders were going to break under pressure. “I should have researched better, I should have seen that coming, I got you killed.”
“Yes, you did,” Eames replied and the point man looked up, his eyes wide. “I did insist I come along though. You'd be dead right now if it wasn't for me.”
“It should have been me,” Arthur whispered and Eames hit him upside the head.
“Don't be stupid,” the forger said. “You can stay here and everything will be fine. You can make it up to me by helping me win forever.”
“I can't stay, you know that, this isn't real,” Arthur said and Eames stared at him. “You're my projection but you're not the real thing.”
“Only you would say that,” the forger said and then he shot Arthur between the eyes. Arthur woke with a start and put a hand over his chest to try and slow his heart. He did not dare to dream for nearly a month before he decided to go under again. This time he was in Eames' apartment and the forger was at the kitchen table. “I was wondering when you'd show up again. I'd ask if you thought about what we talked about but I know you haven't. That's just how you are, Arthur.”
“I know it's how I am,” Arthur replied and he sat down at the table. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I got you killed and I'm even more sorry that I couldn't tell you how much you meant to me at the end.”
“Don't worry about it; I knew,” Eames replied and Arthur looked up at him with wide eyes. “And you know that this isn't just a projection talking because you know it too. So stop beating yourself up. You missed the security and I insisted that I needed to tag along; neither of us is responsible and you know it. I just think you should stay here because we can make up for all of that lost time between our fights.” Arthur leaned in and kissed Eames and put as much behind it as he could. When he pulled away the forger was staring at him. “What was that?”
“It's not the same but I never kissed you like that up there. Feels like I should have and now I can't. I could compose sonnets about you down here and it wouldn't matter because when I wake up you'll still be gone; I'll still have this hole in my chest and I'll never be able to shake off the fact that it doesn't mean anything if I tell you those things now.” The point man sighed heavily. “I really messed up in the real world and what I do down here won't fix that. You'll still be gone and I'll still be alone.”
“You did that whole 'avenge me' thing, didn't you?” Eames asked but he did not wait for answer. “I figured. You're such an idiot, did you really think that would fix things?”
“No, and it didn't help either, but it's what happened.” Arthur looked up at the forger. “I miss you, I always will, but I'm going to walk away now.” The point man stood up but a strong hand took his arm.
“Don't you walk out on me again; you always do that when something goes wrong,” Eames said in a dark voice.
“I'm not walking out on you; I'm just moving on.” Arthur held a gun tight in his hands and put the barrel to his head. “I'm sorry,” he said and he pulled the trigger.
Twice a year Arthur would go to that casino from the dream and count cards to win; once on the day they met and again on the day Eames died. He never turned in the winnings.
Eames was not surprised that Arthur was as tight and rough in terms pf interactions with people as he was with everything else. It was all straight lines and crossing T's and dotting I's and everything having to be perfect. He gave a new definition to the word 'anal' which was partly why the forger had such a good time taunting him. It was a step in the right direction when he pushed Arthur against a wall and kissed him full on the lips out of nowhere. The point man went so rigid that Eames was sure that he could snap Arthur in half easily. When he did not respond the forger slid his tongue into Arthur's mouth and that was all the pushing the point man needed. Suddenly, he was kissing back with such force that Eames was sure they were going to have bruises in the morning.
After their kiss that night and a rather intense make out session, Arthur vanished for several months. Eames was not entirely surprised. According to Cobb Arthur was not very good with relationships and he tended to play things so close to the chest that most people just gave up on him. From the way the extractor said that he seemed sure that Eames would do the same thing. The forger was not sure if he should be insulted. Eames had left a string of broken hearts and one night stands behind him compared to a man who had had maybe two serious relationships in his entire life.
So when he showed up on Arthur's doorstep, Eames was not surprised that the point man looked nothing short of confused. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Not going to invite me in? That's rather rude of you,” Eames said and he flashed his best smile. Arthur studied him for a moment before he stepped aside. The forger brushed by and made no attempt to get out of the way when their shoulders touched. Arthur shut the door and watched him carefully.
“What are you doing here, Eames?” he asked again.
“I'm dropping by because you never called,” Eames replied and he almost kicked himself for how mocking he sounded. He could have punched himself, however, for how much that made Arthur tense up.
“It's not like you picked up a phone either,” he replied and he rubbed his temples. “Look, I don't know why you're here or what your motives are but I know you well enough to realize one thing about that night.”
“And what would that be?” Eames asked and he was genuinely curious as to what Arthur thought of him.
“That it was a one time deal. That's how you work and I get that so why don't you just go back to wherever you're staying these days. We still have a professional relationship,” Arthur said and the forger was not entirely surprised that this was what Arthur thought of him. Instead of trying to come up with some sort of excuse as to why he had never called he just walked forward until Arthur's back was against the wall. Eames put his hands on either side of the point man and pinned him against the wall.
“Who said anything about a one time deal?” he asked and he kissed Arthur again. This time it was not rough, it was not to get a reaction, but to get a point across. When he pulled away Eames had never seen Arthur so surprised. He searched the point man's face for some sort of reaction before he felt hands snake into his hair and they were kissing again. It was slow and so different from anything Eames had ever experienced in his life. So, for the first time, he let someone else lead him into the bedroom.
Eames went on a job after spending a month at Arthur's and after a week, he got a call from Arthur telling him that he had taken one as well. It was not entirely surprising considering how long it had been since Arthur had worked. They planned to meet back at the apartment when they were both done and go from there. Two weeks into the job the phone rang at an ungodly hour and Eames considered throwing it across the room before he looked at the screen and saw Arthur's name flashing.
“Darling, do you have any idea what time it is?” he asked. “I need my beauty sleep after all.”
“Eames,” Arthur said but his voice was heavy like he was having trouble breathing. The forger sat straight up in bed, a cold sweat forming over his body.
“Arthur, what's wrong?” Eames asked.
“I'm not sure, something went wrong, and my entire team,” the point man cut himself off and coughed violently. “They're all dead and I'm--”
“Where are you?” Eames interrupted as he jumped out of bed. “Someone has to be close, someone has to be able to come help you, so tell me where you are.”
“There's no one,” Arthur said in a low voice. “And I can't get up, I can't move to get help. They stabbed me--”
“Put pressure on the wound and just hang on. I'll find some way to get you help and you're going to be okay. I promise, you're going to be okay, just hold on and don't pass out,” he said and he did not try to hide how frantic he sounded.
“Eames,” Arthur said, “there's no time. Just stay on the line with me, please, just stay here and talk to me.” The forger swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and he sat down slowly. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that would not go away and it felt like he was going to faint. “Eames? Are you there?”
“I'm still here, I'm here, darling, you just sit tight and I'll find some way to help, okay?” Eames said.
“Don't hang up,” Arthur said and Eames shut his eyes.
“Never.” The forger tried to come up with some way of getting help to Arthur but he had not been lying when he said there was no one who could help. He was too far away for even the local hospital to get to him. So Eames just talked to Arthur and before long the line went dead. The forger threw the phone across the room and walked out on the job. He found the place where Arthur had died. Just a pool of blood remained, but the PASIV was hidden nearby.
The flight to LA was long and Eames felt like he owed it to Cobb to tell him in person. The extractor slammed his fist into the wall so hard that Eames heard bones snap.
Eames went to Arthur's apartment. He lay in his bed for a long time and kicked a hole in the wall. He got blind drunk for days at a time and hardly went out at all. When he could think of nothing else to do he hooked himself up to the PASIV and fell into a dream.
Eames woke up and realized he was standing in the storage locker that Arthur had died in. Sitting across the room, at a desk, he recognized a familiar body. Arthur turned around and looked at him.
“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take a look at this?” he asked and the forger was powerless to resist. He walked over and stared at the floor. “You let me die alone.” Eames looked up and saw the point man staring at him. “I trusted you not to go running off and you let me die alone.”
“I didn't mean to, I had no way of getting to you, I wanted to help,” he rambled but he did not make sense to himself.
“You teased me for years, coming up with those annoying nicknames, and then you show me that maybe you care a little only to let me die alone. How predictable,” Arthur said and he leaned back in his chair. “You going to kick this out from underneath me now?” Eames wished he had something to say but he had no words. He did care, he had felt something completely new in the time he had spent with Arthur, and never before had he felt this sense of grief, of pain. “No matter. We can have all the time in the world here. Isn't that what you want?”
“I don't want to twist you into something ugly,” Eames said. “I don't want you to become my Mal.” Arthur moved fast and bunched Eames’ shirt in his fists.
“You let me die alone and you can't do that for me?” he asked but the forger pushed his hands away.
“I'm already ruining you and I won't let that happen,” Eames said. “I'm letting you go now before I do any more damage to my memory of you,” and it hurt so much to shove Arthur away, to snap his twisted projection’s neck, before he turned a gun on himself.
The following month Eames showed up at Cobb's door and dropped the PASIV off. When asked if he was okay and what he was going to do now, the forger simply smiled and said he was going to make sure he only remembered the good times.