Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bitter, silvery note of alcohol rested on her tongue as she leaned over the railing. Her eyes didn’t fall on the Paris skyline that she could see from her new apartment, but upwards towards the darkening sky. Ariadne knew, even during the Days of Night, that most of the stars would still stay hidden, obscured by the much-needed light pollution humanity found essential these days. But the city tried its best to make the night sky enjoyable for all, setting up weeks out of the year for its citizens to enjoy the twinkling stars above. 

Another sip, no-- swig, of the supposed-sweet wine brought to her lips. Perhaps, for once, she should participate in what Paris had to offer. Ignore what she would have pre-Inception for the sake of study. Actually live a life beyond textbooks and uninspired drafts of square buildings and isolation and dreamsharing cravings. 

Ariadne sighed, leaning deeper into the metal bars. 

Her wine-induced thoughts drifted towards an empty city that stood falling apart and returning to the sea. Only she would ever think about Limbo these days, of the almost-hell that Cobb nearly sentenced her and the rest of their team to months ago, had they all had failed Inception. After all, why would Cobb think of such things now when he got his family back? 

She downed the rest of the cup of wine. Stared at it as if translucent glass could divine her answers from the universe on its surface. Nothing. Never anything. She poured red liquid into the glass. After a swirl, Ariadne drowned half of the filled cup as eyes returned to a dark sky and cold stars.  

As the metal spirals and curls of her balcony dug into her lower back, she never felt older than her twenty-five years more so than now. 

Not after waking from Inception and staring, hoping, waiting as breath clung in her throat until Cobb woke up in a seat across from her. Not after nightmares of being stuck, lost, and screaming herself awake in the falling apart city much like her new home, but also its facsimile. Not even after being left alone to crave the world of dream-weaving, and unable to even participate in it again. 

From the depths only alcohol could dare process, her mind whispered: she could have died. Every single one of them could have died. All for-- 

She scoffed. He’s happy, let it be. At that, she finished her current glass of wine, as her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Quickly, she set the glass on the table and fished out the device. A number unfamiliar to her blared on the tiny screen, yet she flipped open the phone and pressed the cold ‘accept call’ button. 

“Hello?” 

“Didn’t peg you as a wine drinker, Ariadne.” 

Despite herself, she replied with a tiny chortle and a “When in Paris.” 

Twirling around, she finally looked out towards the walking denizens of Paris’ streets, and spotted a familiar figure standing across the way. He waved at her, a tiny one that Ariadne couldn’t help but return. 

“I should have known you would find me sooner or later,” Ariadne said, a soft smile on her lips as she squinted at Arthur, all dressed for much cooler weather in a knitted cashmere sweater. “Should I be worried that you’re breaking your own rules?” 

“No, no. I, uh,” He coughed, clearing his throat as if stopping himself. “There’s no one following us.” 

“Then come on up?” she asked and motioned for him to come over. “No point in loitering outside.” 

Arthur looked to the side. Ariadne followed his gaze as she spotted Eames a distance away chatting to a local, all dressed for much warmer weather in his floral patterned button-up shirt and camel-brown slacks. 

“Is that invite good for two?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

-☆★☆-

“My dear, you’ve upgraded,” Eames quipped, as he and Arthur stepped into Ariadne’s apartment. He took in the cozy space before pulling her into a quick, but overly dramatic, spinning hug. He set her down. “I see you’re putting Saito’s good money to use.” 

“Eames,” Arthur said, lambasting his boyfriend while locking the door behind them. 

Instead, Ariadne laughed. “It’s been really helpful. I can finish up my Master’s without worrying too much.” 

They nodded or murmured “Good, good,” as Ariadne looked between the two of them. A beat of silent watching amongst the three, before she had the courage to finally ask, “So, what are you two doing here?” And why did you both break the rule of no contact early?  

They looked at each other, before speaking at once. 

“I wanted to see you.”

“Let’s go out.” 

“...What?” Ariadne sputtered.   

Arthur took a sharp breath. “Asshole.” 

“As if you had a better plan.” But there’s a shit-eating grin on his face; not sorry at all. "Spontaneity, darlings. A lesson the two of you need more practice with." To Ariadne, Eames kept grinning and said, “Grab a coat.” 

He didn’t have to ask her twice. 

-☆★☆-

It wasn’t long until they found themselves in one of the public parks opened late for the city to enjoy its nights of stars. Bellies filled with wine and street foods and laughter. Passing by couples and odd family units, all with similar ideas, the trio worked their way through to a more secluded area. 

More like Ariadne plopped herself on the ground suddenly, laying flat on the ground and declaring ‘ here, right here’ to be the perfect spot for stargazing. Even as dew seeped into their clothes, promising green stains across polyester and tweed and wool. Even as her head spun, the light headedness made the stars twirl above as if they sparkled like impossibly glowing diamonds or touched by Van Gogh.

To her eyes at least.

As soon as Arthur and Eames sat on either side of her, Ariadne forced herself up and pointed out a hazy W-shape set of stars of Cassiopeia’s constellation. Her finger drifted downward as she tried to describe Andromeda’s shape, of a woman chained to a rock, placed there by her mother sitting just above her. After a set of ‘ do you see her?’ and shaking her head as she repeated again and again the constellation’s points, she fell silent and sank back to lay flat on the ground. 

Scattering of strangers’ conversations buzzed in the air, distant enough to tune out. She stared back at the twinkling distant lights, tracing other constellation shapes in her gaze. 

Movement, a muted rustling of fabric, and Eames laid down next to her. Arthur, meanwhile, sat still, resting an arm on top of propped knee. His eyes tracked their surroundings as he asked, half of a smile on his lips, “Are those the only two you know?” 

Ariadne hummed. “Nope!” 

In the dark, she reached for their hands and spent the next five-ten-fifteen minutes tracing out shapes within the sea of specks and inky night. Every breath, every laugh, every story kept her in the now. Kept her focused on building memories she’d be happy to hold. Kept the fluttering in her stomach and chest alive to remind her of a reality worth living in. 

Perhaps she will always dream of Limbo and of its expanse entrapping her alone, up until she could no longer dream. 

For now, perhaps, perhaps , her world is okay.