So Long And Goodnight

You Were My Guiding Light

1.2

            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.