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acquiescenceIt's autumn now, the leaves on the trees slowly fading from their usual rich green to golden reds and yellows. The colors seep into every part of the town, drowning daily life in their deep saturated colors. Arthur isn't used to these kinds of changes in the town - everything has been the same since the day he arrived there, nothing changes there. It's always the same, and it has been for years - or so he's told. He doesn't really know for sure, but it's not important.
The leaves are changing now, some falling to the ground, other clinging with the last of their strength to branches that want nothing more to do with them for the rest of the year. They'll be replaced next Spring, new bright green young leaves springing up to take their place and holding tight to their tree as long as they can before the process is started all over again.
Arthur watches the leaves every day, checking the colors and the variations as they change and pull him toward the winter months. It's a slow process, and if he wasn't actually looking for the changes he wouldn't even notice them until the leaves were finally giving up the battle all together and were blanketing the ground with their deep colors.
But he looks for the changes, watches every day and takes note of it - though he's not sure why he does other than to have a way to mark the passage of time. Everything else stays the same, but the leaves change - and Arthur clings to that knowledge for some reason, even if everyone in the town says it makes no sense.
"The seasons change the same as they do every year." Yusuf says, his voice slow and unworried - he does not take notice of the changes that the leaves undergo every day, he pays no attention to the number of leaves left clinging to the trees with their last bit of life, he cares not for the crunch of dead leaves scattered across the cobbled streets of the town - it is all unimportant to him. "What good does it to do count and measure? Will it change anything?"
"That's not the point." Arthur insists, and makes note of the day's changes in the little notebook he keeps in the pocket in the lining of his jacket. He can feel it, firm against his chest throughout the day, his own personal reminder of the changes that they experience - his one defiance since he came to the town.
The town has many rules. Far too many, Arthur tells himself some days, but he obeys them all and he does not ask too many questions. He accepts the rules as everyone else does, but he questions them on his own, in the privacy of the pages of his notebook. He stays up late at night, lantern burning in his room while he scratches out his notes for the day on the pages bleached yellow by candle light. It's the one thing they let him keep when he entered the town. And he holds it tight every day, keeping it with him at all times lest it and everything he knows disappears along with it.
He doesn't understand it, and he doesn't understand why no one ever questions the way things are. Instead they all answer the same whenever he brings the question up.
"Things are the way they are, because it is how they have always been." It's a simple answer and brooks no arguments no matter how much Arthur tries. Things are the way they are because it's how they have always been, again and again. It doesn't matter who he asks, it doesn't matter how he asks, or how many times he brings the question up. The answer never changes now matter how much he wishes it would. He just wants some kind of change, something new, something different.
But nothing ever changes here.
He’d done this kind of work for years; it was what he was trained for after all. Arthur never really expected anything different from his life. Oh, maybe something a bit more glamorous than all of this, but that wasn’t ever really the point, now was it?
Besides, Arthur knew himself well enough to know that he was never going to be the glamorous type. He was far too organized for that, far too grounded in reality. He liked things to be in order, to make a plan and then see it through to its completion. He liked those kinds of things, and as Eames always reminded him that was not the way glamorous people acted. And in Arthur's mind, Eames was something of an expert on the subject - not that he would ever tell him that, god knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did. And Eames was always far too pleased with himself all on his own without Arthur giving him any extra help.
He was good at order though, it was why Arthur always played the role of the point man. He knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. And that was the important part - you couldn't do this kind of thing if you were only going to half ass it, Arthur had heard of too many up and coming people in this business who went and got themselves on the wrong end of a .22 because they didn't take the time to make sure they were doing things right.
Arthur was just a kid when he started working with Dom and Mal, fresh out of the military with a crew cut and feeling like just a bit of an idiot without his uniform - he felt like a kid, hell he was a kid, and without the starched uniform and all its trappings he felt even more his age - but Mal was a friend of the family, he’d known her since he was a kid (well more of a kid) and when she said she had a job offer for him Arthur had jumped at the chance.
He hadn’t expected her to want to make use of the training he’d received over the last four years. Dream share technology was still experimental when Arthur had joined ranks, and he was part of a group trained and tested with the tech. He’d been killed an innumerable amount of times in his dreams, more times than he'd ever imagined. They said it was so soldiers could get used to the idea of killing - they just forgot to mention it was so they could get used to the idea of being killed too. Death was comforting now in some ways, it was as easy as falling asleep, or waking up in most cases.
Mal showed him how the technology could be used for more though. She never let herself be contained by the idea of what things should be - she was always doing something new, something different, much to Dom’s constant consternation. They were an odd pair in Arthur’s mind, but Mal loved him, and there was no stopping her once she had her mind made up.
Something they all learned later.
It had been just the three of them for so long, Arthur was unprepared to be left with only Dom after everything, but he couldn’t just leave him. Mal had loved him, and Dom wouldn’t have lasted a day on his own. Arthur grew up more in those months he and Dom traveled across the globe, everywhere but home, than he had during any other part of his life. He stopped being that little boy that Dom and Mal had taken in and trained and became a man. He had a purpose and there was nothing Arthur loved more than to have a purpose. It was part of the reason he'd loved the military so much - you always had a purpose there, no matter your rank.
The three of them had made an excellent team - but without Mal things never worked as well as they had in the past. Dom was sloppy, and it only took Mal sidling up to him once to slide a knife between his ribs for Arthur to know there was something wrong.
It was never easy being killed by Mal, no matter how many times it occurred - and it happened more than Arthur would have liked. In the military, you knew how it would happen. You’d get shot, sometimes you’d bleed out - but only if you were clumsy and dropped your gun somewhere you couldn’t reach. And if you were lucky you’d have someone there to finish the job if they didn’t do it on the first try.
Mal liked to watch you die though; she liked to make it last and let you feel the pain, feel the life slipping out of you, savoring each drop. She had always been like that.
Sitting at the table at breakfast, Mal would lean back in her chair with all the ease and contentment of a cat while she slowly peeled the bitter sweet rind off her orange, fingers glistening with juice in the morning light coming in through the windows. She would lay each section down before continuing with the task, running her thumb beneath the peel and the tender flesh of the fruit separating the two as she slowly worked her way around until she was left with just the ripe sweet sections of orange. And even that she would take her time to savor, peeling apart each section piece by piece and closing her eyes to enjoy the burst of juice on her tongue with each bite.
Arthur had always loved to watch her so enraptured. Until she watched him die with the same fervor.
Arthur thinks he likes the town. He would say he likes the town if he was asked. It’s a very nice place to live. The climate is temperate, and the people are all nice. He never had anything bad to say about the town, and despite that, there was something about the place that never felt quite right to him. Something was always a bit off, but he could never place it.
He’s been here a few weeks all ready, actually it’s been five weeks and four days. He could never let himself lose track of the days, even if each one does have a habit of fading into the next in a very annoying sort of way, despite his meticulous notes.
Why he came here is still something of a mystery. A mystery Arthur has been working to try and solve since his arrival. All he can remember is that he couldn’t go back the way he’d come.
The town centers around a large plaza, the cobblestones arranged in what must have been an artful design at one point, weaving their way around the open area that centers on the fountain in the middle of it all. It’s dry now - and by Arthur’s estimation it has been for some time now. At one point painted with an intricate design that’s long since faded in the sunlight.
From this central plaza more buildings fan out, always circling this central spot despite the odd lay out in parts of the town. Arthur wonders if any plan went into the building of the town or if it slowly built itself up over the years in whatever way that worked best at the time - without thought for any future expansion. It was a curious thought any way his mind framed it.
To say, though, that the plaza is the center of the town is not entirely correct - it is the physical center of the town but nearly everyone who remains in the town takes up residence in the northern quarter, nearest the gate and at the furthest point from the forest that creep toward the buildings at the town's furthest edge. There is a wall that surrounds the town, wrapping around it and disappearing as it wraps around the forest as well, keeping everything closed in though Arthur doesn't understand why.
Since his arrival Arthur has been told the wall is there to protect the town - there are animals that roam the land beyond the wall and in the past the animals used to come into the town and steal children away in the dead of night. So, many years ago the town began work on the wall, building it higher and higher every year until they were certain the animals could not climb over it - and no one could flee over it either.
"But why would you want to leave?" Ariadne asks as she surveys the space she’s been clearing for her garden. Arthur stands with her, watching her movements, the way she makes notes on her plans, adjusting for the level of the soil and the tilt of the sun. It’s all very taxing work - Arthur can see that.
"What if I needed something?" It doesn’t seem like it should be such an odd thing, to want to leave the town.
"What would you need that we don’t have here?" Ariadne frowns at her plans, rubbing something out with the back end of her pencil before replacing the thoughts that had been there with something new, something better no doubt.
"I don’t know. There are people outside the wall, aren’t there? What if I wanted to visit them?" Arthur kicks at the ground, hands shoved into his pockets. It’s getting colder now, as more of the leaves turn from green to red and then brown.
Ariadne stopped working then, usually when they have their conversations she continues to work never looking at Arthur while she perfects her plans, her responses to his questions were the only way he ever knew that she was even aware that he was there with her each morning at all, and looks at him for a moment before glancing over the wall that rose up toward the sky. Its uneven edge like a battlement reaching out toward the grey blue canopy overhead.
"My mother left the town." She says. "Years ago."
"Where did she go?" Arthur asks.
"I don’t know." Ariadne lifts her shoulders for a brief moment and sighs. "She had plans, so many things that I never understood. And she said she couldn’t stay."
Arthur wonders where her mother could have gone, what she did out in the lands outside of the wall, why she didn't take Ariadne with her. And he wonders if he came from the same place that Ariadne’s mother had gone. There is so much that he can’t remember, so many things he feels he should have the answer to, but cannot find them no matter how hard he tries.
He remembers the path he found himself walking along right as the wall loomed up over him, and it had been an easy choice to make his way toward the town. And when Arthur reached the gate and was stopped he couldn’t think of a reason not to do as he was asked - what else would he do? Go back out into the land that surrounded the town? There was nothing as far as the eye could see - no it was by far the safer choice to enter the town.
"You’ll be staying at Terra Mirum." Saito had told him. "You follow the path into the town and take the third right you'll find it easily enough." He'd promised. "Yusuf will take care of you and make sure you have everything you need."
"I have my own things." Arthur protested, not that he had much, just a few odds and ends stuffed into his pockets, but it seemed like he should make sure Saito knew that.
"You must leave them here." Saito had said.
"Why?" Arthur's hand clenched, desperate for something in his pocket, something that had some meaning, but he wasn't sure what it was.
"It is the way things are." Had been the simple response he'd been given.
"After you're settled you will go to the Library. There is a man there, tell him I sent you, and he will explain your work."
The offer came in when Arthur was in Madrid, he was working at letting himself relax - enjoying the spoils he'd won over the years he'd been at this business but had never been able to enjoy for one reason or another, usually Dom.
He lay on the beach, the sun high overhead soaking into his skin. He was restless though; Arthur had never been good at staying in one place for long, and even worse at sitting still when he did end up sticking around. He liked having something to do - a purpose - without it, he felt lost, unsure of what to do with himself.
Eames was the man of leisure; he was the one most at home lying in bed with the sheets all wrecked and soaking in the feeling of having nothing at all to do. There were times Arthur envied him that ability to be so completely at home in his skin no matter where he was. And then Arthur would remember that he hated Eames, the man had no subtlety for all his ability, and all his training.
You didn't just join this world without training of some sort - most civilians didn't even know that dream share technology even existed. Mal and Dom were the rare exception to the rule - they had a connection in Miles.
But Eames.
He was a military man like Arthur, and despite all the training he must have had you could never see it in the way he carried himself. Arthur kept himself neat and orderly, clothes pressed and polished - a studious uniform of expensive suits that might have looked silly on the young boy that had left the military and was taken in by Mal and Dom all those years ago, but now they fit him to a T.
And yet for all that Arthur knew to make up the man, Eames never for even a moment let on that he was more than a man willing to do the smallest amount of work to complete a job, though Arthur knew differently of course, but that wasn't exactly the point.
Eames had been trained just the way Arthur had - to gain experience in killing. Though where Arthur had gotten into all of this to experiment with Mal and Dom, Eames had gotten into it for the money. They both had their training but Eames used his for his own gains from the start, Arthur had only done so when the other options disappeared.
He didn't exactly have that excuse anymore. Since they had successfully pulled the Fischer job, Arthur didn't actually have to continue in this line of work - he had many different options open to him now, and more than enough money to keep himself quite happy should he desire that sort of life.
But that was the thing about inception. After you did it, nothing ever was really quite the same again. And while he'd royally fucked up he still missed the kind of sick desperation he'd felt in the pit of his stomach while they did their best to avoid the projections of Fischer's mind. The jobs he'd pulled since then were never as good.
They were all easy, too easy, now.
In the past extraction had been something of a challenge, but when you knew what you were doing - knew that you could successfully pull of an inception; well, the challenge went right out of it.
Which was why Arthur had attempted to live a life of leisure. To spend the considerable amount of money he'd earned and just be for a short time, but it seemed that years of keeping himself constantly moving was not an easy habit to break, no matter how much he might try.
So he was grateful when Saito called him, and filled him in on this newest job he had for him. Saito kept the entire team on retainer (except for Dom - who had sworn off the business entirely after he'd gotten back to his children. Dom did like to keep his word, and he'd told Miles it would be his last, though Eames constantly suggested that Dom would be back at some point. "No one leaves all of this that easily, darling. He'll come back, give it time." He sounded so sure, that Arthur almost believed him, but then he visited and saw Dom's face as he played with Phillipa and James and he knew, no matter how convincing Eames could make himself sound, Dom wasn't coming back.)
Saito always called Arthur first. He'd sort of taken up the slack in the space where Dom had been for so long, it wasn't all that difficult, and he had more than enough experience with all of it. Arthur jotted down a time and a date on the napkin that was weighted down by the disgustingly blue sweet tropical drink he'd gotten as part of his attempt to live easily, and then stuffed it into his pocket (maybe it wasn't exactly kosher wearing anything but swim trunks while lounging poolside, but there was no way in hell Arthur was going to go around bare chested with only a pair of tacky shorts to cover him, and god forbid anyone suggest something smaller than trunks.) before heading back up to his room.
The high rise building where he met Saito didn't have quite the same view as his room in Madrid, but Arthur had always preferred looking down at a city sprawled out in all directions beneath him, than to see an expanse of nature at all angles. This was much more relaxing than a sea side hotel any day, no matter what anyone said. And he had a feeling there would certainly be someone who would have said something about that particular assertion.
"Ah, Arthur, I am so glad you could meet me so quickly." Saito looked older some how since they had gotten off the plane in Los Angeles, they never spoke of what had happened in Limbo - if Saito even remembered it, though Arthur didn't doubt that he did. He walked like a much older man now. One who had lived through many years.
"Of course." He inclined his head in greeting.
"Please have a seat."
Though the town is large, reaching out in tendrils from the center plaza it seems strangely empty. Many of the homes and businesses all seem to be abandoned, though Arthur can see smoke rising from the chimney tops in the evening of places he had been certain were left vacant for years now. He can never truly be sure of that, and he hasn't felt curious enough to go investigate the situation for himself some lonely night.
No, at night he is more than content to wrap himself up in the thick wool blanket that covers the small bed Yusuf provided for him when he came to his pub that first day. Yusuf had looked like he was expecting Arthur, like he'd known before even Arthur did that he would be coming here - and the room was waiting, ready for him as soon as Yusuf had taken him inside.
"I will prepare meals for you each morning, and you are welcome to spend your free time here in the pub." Yusuf had explained simply, gesturing to the dimly lit room Arthur had entered upon his arrival at Terra Mirum. "Though you may also visit the rest of the town, be sure though -" Arthur had looked up from where he'd been drawing idle patterns on the bar top when Yusuf paused to make sure he had his attention. "You do not wander too far into the forest, always make sure you can see the town if you do venture into the forest."
And that was all that was said on the matter, Arthur still didn't really understand the warning, but he had heeded Yusuf's warning none the less. There was something in the other man's tone that brooked no argument from him.
All in all Yusuf was a good man, he kept himself busy during the day with his pub, wiping tables and working on new and inventive brews that he could share with those who visited. It was what he was known for - Arthur heard it from everyone when they learned he was staying in the room above the pub.
"Oh Yusuf makes the best ales."
"His beer is the best around, there is nothing better than what Yusuf makes there at Terra Mirum."
"You're lucky to be staying there, so many would love to have a chance to see for themselves how Yusuf works his magic."
Arthur didn't really understand it, but nodded and agreed with the proper amount of solemnity that yes, Yusuf really was the best, and it was such a honor to be staying with him since he'd come to the town. And everyone who heard it seemed to be convinced that Arthur was in fact as grateful for the opportunity as he ought to be and they were satisfied. And Arthur was safe from what he imagined would be quite a tirade from the way people seemed to be so intense about their mutual respect for the brewer.
When Arthur was not with Yusuf he took his time exploring the town. He would wander up streets, and down alley ways, and though he never seemed to find anything different he continued to trace the same paths every week trying to find something new or different. But as he was reminded quite often nothing ever changed there.
"Have you seen my wife?" Cobb asks him one day, while Arthur is watching his children play in the grass. A little boy and a little girl running hand and hand through the tall grass near the edge of the forest, until they tumble to the ground curling in on themselves giggling like mad. Arthur never really sees their faces but he can imagine the glee on their faces as they play together.
"I haven't." Arthur turns from the children to look at Cobb. The man is older than him, and constantly looks like he needs someone to look after him, like he is lost without his wife who seems to have left at some point - though no one seems to know what happened to the woman. All he is ever told is that she is gone, but Cobb cannot seem to accept that or doesn't know the way everyone else in the town seems to. Arthur isn't sure what to make of the situation.
Cob frowns and sighs. "She's going to miss the children again if she doesn't come home soon." And all Arthur can do is nod in response, he isn't sure what else to say to the man, it is not the first time they have had this conversation. Though Arthur wishes that were the case, it was easier the first time - if a bit unexpected, but having to relive this conversation - to try again and again to search for the right answer, the one that will make Cobb look a little less lost is never found and it is endlessly frustrating for Arthur.
"You shouldn't spend so much time with Cobb." Ariadne tells him as he stands with her, watching her going over her plans again. She's broken ground now, and it's more than just plans for uneven dirt the way it has been for as long as Arthur has known her - and he wonders how many more times her plans will change until she is satisfied with the results she comes up with. They all look vaguely similar to Arthur, but then he is not the designer and so he keeps his mouth shut and lets Ariadne continue her work in peace.
"Why?" Cobb may constantly ask the same questions but Arthur doesn't see the harm in it.
"He is not well - he's missing something, and no matter what we do he does not get better." She speaks matter-of-factly about the man and pushes her pencil behind her ear blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she picks up her shovel again, getting back to the process of moving soil and turning into reality the plans she has made for this space.
"Will it hurt me to continue to speak with him?" Arthur wonders while watching Ariadne. She is beautiful and Arthur feels like he ought to be working alongside her instead of simply standing there - but they all have their professions and this is hers. He has been told this before and the people here seem to be very firm in their chosen professions. So Arthur remains where he stands and watches her work.
"No, of course not."
"Will it hurt him if I continue to speak with him?" He asks.
"No, why would it?"
"Why should I not spend time with him then?"
"What will it change if you do? He never changes." Ariadne turns over another shovelful of soil, wiping away moisture from her brow on her sleeve, before continuing with her work. "Nothing ever changes." Arthur repeats the words with Ariadne silently.
Nothing ever changes. And yet here in front of him is evidence that it does in fact change. And his notebook is filled with instances of change since he'd arrived, and his own work has been cataloguing history - a record of all the changes the town had gone through up until this point. Things do change here despite what people seem to think - Arthur just does not understand their insistence that it does not when it is so apparent that it does.
The one time he tried to have this conversation though it did not go well.
"Small things change yes of course, that is all part of the passing of time, but things do not change here. They are they way they are for a reason and there is no reason for them to change so they do not." Saito had told him simply one afternoon when Arthur had wandered to the gate and struck up a conversation with the man. He doesn't know how to fight it when Saito is so firm in his assessment that things are as they should be.
Arthur feels like there should be more he has to say about it but he can never find the right words, and so he leaves the gatehouse without having added anything to the conversation they run again and again, but Saito never seems to tire of it for all that it is the same. Arthur suspects that is because no one comes to visit him at the gate house with as much regularity as Arthur and he enjoys the company to the solitude in which he lives the majority of his life.
Saito laid out all the details for Arthur that night in the hotel room overlooking New York. The next day Arthur was on a plane out to Hong Kong to start setting things up before everyone else arrived, it was what he did now - he was still the point man after all - even without Dom around to do the extracting. Arthur just took on an added role. It wasn't too difficult considering the majority of what he did originally was taken care of before they ever entered the dream - he just cut himself out of his ability to be the dreamer for the second level of dreams.
But since Ariadne didn't need to babysit Dom and his sanity she made the perfect replacement for him, and she had grown up quite a bit since the Fischer job so he never felt too bad about leaving her behind.
And they rarely got involved in the kind of high stakes jobs that the Fischer job was anymore. There was very little call for that sort of thing despite their ability to complete the task. Things were never as intense as they were then - and Arthur was at times grateful for that - he'd never fucked up as royally on a job as he had on the Fischer job and he was glad not to have the opportunity to do that again any time soon.
But on the other hand...
"No it's perfect really." Arthur assured Saito over the phone as he walked through the warehouse the businessman had procured for just this job. It was large, but not so expansive they would feel lost in the space. There was space for them to spread out , everyone would have their own space in which to work while they got things squared away - you almost always only had one chance to do these things and Arthur didn't want to rush this and miss their opportunity to complete the job.
While Saito was amazingly generous at times, Arthur had no doubt that beneath all that was a man who did not like to be disappointed and he would get what he wanted. Arthur didn't want to be the one to find out what Saito was like when he was disappointed.
Thankfully this time Saito wouldn't be playing tourist in the dream - he trusted them to complete the job, and wasn't as eager to watch over his investment as he had been in the past. In fact, Arthur was sure that the Fisher job was the last time Saito had gone into dream space - though after what had happened Arthur wasn't sure he blamed the other man. He didn't know how Dom had continued with dreaming once he'd gotten back from Limbo.
He suspected the insistence that they go back was part of what had gotten to Mal, no matter what Dom said about inception, about the idea he'd planted in his own wife's head.
Arthur didn't care.
He pushed away those thoughts though all ready working on the plan for the job. Yes, the space Saito had gotten for them would more than do.
Arthur would take a few days to scope out the situation before he contacted the rest of the team and had them come out. He wanted to be as thorough as possible with his background work.
"You work too hard, darling." The familiar voice startled Arthur out of his thoughts, brooding over the open moleskine that lay open on the table in front of him while he sat in the corner of the hotel bar - he liked having his back to the wall.
"Someone has to." Arthur said looking up, his eyebrows knitting together when he saw Eames standing across from him - familiar smirk spread across his face while he looked down at him.
"Well aren't you going to invite me to sit down?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because it's the polite thing to do, of course." Eames rolled his eyes like the answer had been the most obvious one in the world, and perhaps it had been, but then very little of their relationship had ever been based on what had been the polite thing to do. No, in fact the majority of their relationship was predicated on just the opposite.
Eames had always rubbed Arthur wrong. Mal had adored Eames, she thought he was wonderful and so talented she reminded Arthur again and again, though he would only scowl and continue ignoring Eames as long as he could, or respond with scathing remarks when he had to speak to the other man.
Despite his own opinions of the man, it had always seemed that Eames enjoyed their sort of verbal sparring, without even the slightest hint that Arthur's attempts to make Eames see that his enjoyment had not been the point of any of this had even been recognized. But it never did any good. Eames always insisted on pet names, and private grins, and cautionary touches when no one was looking.
Arthur hated it and at the same time he wasn't sure he would have known any other way to interact with Eames for all his desire to change things. It seemed despite everything Eames never changed.
"What are you doing here?" Was Arthur's only response when Eames pulled out the chair across from him and waved over a waitress in a skirt that had to be kept in place by tape (or magic - Arthur couldn't really decide) and ordered himself a drink.
"Pleasure to see you again as well Arthur, darling." Eames smirked. "We are working a job are we not?" He asked, raising his glass in a silent toast after the waitress set it down in front of him, and Arthur watched as Eames shamelessly let his eyes follow the shape of her backside as she made her way back to the bar.
"You're not supposed to be here for another week." It seemed Arthur was unable to actually answer anything said by Eames at the moment; he was far more concerned with how the forger had managed to find his way here a week early.
"Saito seemed to think you could use a hand on some of the ground work, and I could use the extra time to figure out who would best suit this sort of thing." Eames elaborated for him and Arthur could only nod - Saito might not want to play tourist anymore, but that didn't keep him from meddling. It made Arthur tense to know that he wasn't as in charge of this job as he might have liked to be - but there was little to do about it now, Eames was here and he wasn't about to send him back the way he'd come no matter how much he might have liked to.
"So what have you gotten so far?" Eames asked, taking a slow sip of the amber liquid that circled around in his glass, leaning back, and Arthur felt Eames' feet nudge his under the table as Eames stretched his legs out in front of him, crowding up into Arthur's personal space. Eames knew how much Arthur hated that, and Arthur made it his mission not to let on that this bothered him tonight - he didn't care Eames was an idiot, he didn't need to give him further excuse to continue to play with him.
Arthur explained the details he'd gleaned so far, as much as he might have wanted that extra week on his own to figure things out - it would help to have an extra set of eyes and another brain to come up with ideas, and things that Arthur didn't see.
Eames did have a knack for coming up with ideas that were out of the box - and for someone like Arthur who was so very in the box it helped to have that differing view point around at times like these. They could take the next week and figure things out before Ariadne and Yusuf arrived and they made the final arrangements for the job.
The only problem with having Eames there with him for a week without the other two members of the team meant that all his time was spent with the most annoying man in the world. And Arthur decided on the second day, while Eames leaned back in his chair popping gum as he read through the Covey files that it would be a miracle if he didn't shoot him before the week was up. In fact it would be a real feat if he didn't strangle Eames before the hour was up if he were being honest. And Arthur was nothing if not honest.
"Honest to a fault." Eames had told him more than once. Usually when Arthur had made mention of his horrid taste - or when Arthur had said for not the first time that Eames was a complete idiot. Neither was particularly true, but Arthur needed something to grasp on to - Eames had so easily found his way under Arthur's skin and it was only fair that Arthur had something of his own to use against the other man, true or not.
"I could never be anything but." Was always his response, and perhaps he even smiled a bit when they had that particular conversation, but Arthur never would have admitted to it even if it were true, and it most definitely wasn't.
"You'll be reading the histories." Saito had told him that first day while he stood in the gatehouse emptying his pockets of all his belongings, dropping them all into a box that Saito had provided for him. Saito let him keep the notebook that he had brought with him, but the rest: a gun (why did he have a gun?), a single red die, and a ring; had been left there in the gatehouse.
Saito had promised to keep it safe for him, to make sure nothing happened to it all - and he would be there to watch over it for him, and if Arthur ever left he could have it all back happily, but none of it was allowed in the town. What was there left for Arthur to do but empty his pockets? He couldn't go back out into the lands that stretched out uncomfortably around the town, who knew how long he would have to walk before he found something, anything at all.
No, the town had been his only option.
"Histories?"
"Yes."
"What does that mean?"
"The histories of the town - of the world, are kept in the library. Yusuf will point you in the right direction once you are settled in." Saito had assured him. And Yusuf had; he gave Arthur very good directions.
"There is a man there, at the library; he takes care of the histories. He will make you dinner each night and show you how it is to be done." Arthur was even more confused that first day - how else did one read histories but to open the book and read the words from the page? He couldn't seem to come up with any other way to make it work in his mind and so he put it out of his mind while he settled in at Yusuf's place.
He waited a few days, getting to know the town a bit better before he made his way to the library. It was on the opposite side of town, and Arthur had to cross through the central plaza in order to get there - oh he could have taken side streets most likely, but it would have drawn out the trip and he had a feeling he would be lost in a manner of minutes if he started going down streets he didn't recognize.
The town wasn't that big, but he'd see the way the alleyways wound and twisted behind the main buildings and he wasn't in a hurry to try and find his way through the maze they no doubt created. And so he stuck to the larger roads following the directions Yusuf had given him.
If Yusuf hadn't described the building to Arthur when he had given him his directions Arthur would have missed the building entirely - it looked nothing like a library. In fact it looked the same as every building around it in most ways, though it was the largest of any in this part of town.
Arthur wonders what the other buildings contain - there is no way of telling from the outside, and they all appear to be abandoned so he hasn't tried to go inside to investigate. Perhaps the building next door is a bakery, though there is never the smell of baking, and maybe the building across the street is a hardware store - though with so many buildings in disrepair Arthur suspects the town does not have such a business within its walls. Or if it does no one makes use of it - he likes making up ideas for what the other buildings might be used for, coming up with something new each time he passes them.
In the time it takes to walk to the library from Yusuf's pub, Arthur speculates about the buildings he passes, and wonders to himself if there are people inside, peeking out at him from the dingy windows, looking out where Arthur can only imagine he sees in.
It helps to pass the time, no matter how futile the exercise is. Much like writing in his notebook.
When he first came to the library Arthur was sure he had the wrong building. It looked empty when he stepped inside, it was quiet and there was not a soul to be seen. He slowly steps into the dim light cast by a fire glowing in the hearth, the only sign that there might possibly be someone there, and looks around.
"Hello?" He calls into the space but there is no answer. Arthur waits, standing still near the fire hands stuffed into his pocket, though he's not cold - the gesture is simply to keep him from fidgeting, he hates doing that for some reason. It doesn't give the right impression, but what impression would be the right one isn't entirely certain either.
Arthur waits there for seven minutes, telling himself that he will leave after ten if no one has shown up and ask Yusuf to give him the directions again - perhaps he can convince Yusuf to walk him to the library if he asks right, though he has a hard time imagining the brewer leaving his pub on its own - even for the time it would take to show Arthur the way to the library.
Maybe he could ask Ariadne, or Cobb, or even Saito - though each one has their own reasons that they might not be eager to leave their tasks to help him. Thankfully he does not have to do any of this.
A man steps out from the back room rubbing his hands clean on a towel and stops when he sees Arthur standing by the fire.
"Oh, you're here. You should have said something."
"I did." Arthur insists. The man looks familiar, but Arthur is not sure why - no one else has seemed that way to him since he came to the town. "When I came in."
"I didn't hear you then." The man shrugs, and tilts his head toward the room he just left. "Come with me and we can get started."
Arthur simply nods and follows him to the back room - it feels a bit like he shouldn't be there, like he's intruding in some way, despite having been told by Saito that this is where he is supposed to be. He follows the librarian though, letting him lead the way into the back and then through the stacks.
Expecting the shelves to be filled with books, Arthur is taken aback when Eames stops him in front of the first shelf they come to. "These are the histories. It is my job to take care of them and to help you if you need it." He explains, though Arthur's full attention is on the records that fill the shelves. They stretch on so deep into the room - the building is so much bigger than Arthur had suspected from the outside – that Arthur isn't sure it would be possible for any one person to ever read them all.
"How am I supposed to read these?" Arthur asked glancing back at the librarian, unsure of what he should do here.
"I will show you, it is not very difficult."
The librarian took the memory off the shelf and lead Arthur to a table - it was still in view of the stacks, but it was removed enough that Arthur could work in peace, and so could the librarian, but if he needed help all he had to do was call and he should be heard.
The librarian explained the equipment, and the way Arthur was to read the histories. "I have never done it myself, only the historian may read the histories - but I know enough to explain it to you." And as he had been told it was very easy to do.
It was tiring work though, and Arthur made it through only one history before he felt exhausted, though all he had done was sit for the entire time it took for him to take the history from the record and take it into himself. It was only a small portion of life here in the town - from an individual perspective, and it had taken so much out of him.
Taking a history in, it was hard to explain how it was done – the librarian showed him the basics of the act, but as he had said he had never done it so it was up to Arthur to put the simple motions into action and hope it came out right. The first time, Arthur sat there at his small table, the record in his hands and placed it on the gramophone. He expected sound to emit from the ancient machine, for music to fill the room – something familiar. What happens instead Arthur has trouble describing.
It's almost like he leaves the room, like he's pulled from that spot at the table and dragged into a memory that is not his. He sees it played out with startling clarity, the experience, the emotions; the entire memory is committed to his mind like it was his own from the start. And when it is over he finds himself back in the library, at the table he never left more exhausted than he ever would have thought possible.
"It is difficult at first." The librarian explained as they sat together after he had taken away the record and brought Arthur dinner of stew and hot coffee. It wasn't anything special, but after the work he had done Arthur felt much relieved to have something to eat and drink. "It will get easier though the more you do it."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh yes, I have worked here for quite a long time and I have helped other historians start this work. They all assure me it gets easier the more you do it." Arthur pokes at the vegetables that remain in the bottom of his bowl while they talk, breaking off small bits and eating them.
"How many other historians have there been?"
"Who can say? There has always been a historian since the start of the town."
"What happened to the last one? Before I came here?" Arthur wonders, if there was always a historian there should have been one before he arrived here in town.
"She was given a new job; it is the way things work." Had come the simple reply.
And things were done the way they were because that was the way they were always done. Arthur knows the mantra by heart and he had only been there a short time all ready - it seemed to be something every person in the town knew, and they were not at all shy about reminding Arthur of that fact as often as they needed to.
After that first day, the librarian offered to walk Arthur home when they had finished for the night, and he accepted, not entirely sure if he could find the way back in the dark on his own.
"You really are lucky to be staying with Yusuf, he is a master creator." The librarian tells him as they walk side by side in the dark, echoing a sentiment he had heard more than once all ready.
"So I have been told." Arthur doesn't have it in him to be properly grateful for the opportunity, thankfully the librarian doesn't seem to be the sort to demand that sort of thing from Arthur the way others have.
For the most part they walk in silence, only the sound of their footsteps echoing off dark windows and doors as they stroll through the empty streets. Only a few windows shine with lights giving away the fact that there are people living inside. And even then it never seems like enough to account for the size of the town.
"How long have you lived here?" Arthur asks.
"My whole life."
"Really?"
"Yes." Arthur isn't sure why he is surprised, but then he realizes that everyone else he has talked to has come to the town at some point in their lives. No one he has spoken with has lived here their entire lives. And that makes the librarian different.
"How long have you worked in the library?"
"Since I was fifteen."
The librarian answers all his questions as they walk together, and though Arthur doesn't ask many questions he does find out quite a bit from the librarian. He wonders about this man - suddenly finding him so much more interesting than he had only moments before. He wants to ask him more, but he isn't sure how to word it, he isn't sure what exactly he would ask either - he just knows that there is more to this man than it seems, and he would like to find out what it is.
The people in this town seem more than happy to just take things the way they are, they rarely ask questions - they make statements far more often. And they answer Arthur's questions, but no one ever asks Arthur about his life - or the things he does, or the things he's done.
Only Saito.
For some reason he wants the librarian to ask, he wants to share more with him than he has with anyone else, even Yusuf with whom he is living. He isn't sure why he feels an instant kinship with the man but he doesn't feel the need to try and explain it at the moment either.
Instead he moves just a bit closer while they keep walking together.
"I will leave you here." The librarian had said when they arrive outside Yusuf's pub, Arthur is surprised, he expected the librarian to come in - after all it seems strange to have come so far only to turn around again.
"You'll be there tomorrow?" Arthur hears himself ask, unaware of the question until it had all ready been spoken aloud.
"Of course." And he feels relief course through him, despite knowing the answer to the question all ready.
"Good."
"Good night." The librarian is turning to leave then, and Arthur stops him with a word and extends his hand in his direction.
"I am Arthur." He introduces himself for the first time, becoming something other than the historian to the librarian.
"And I am Eames." There is a slight smirk on the librarian's lips then, and he inclines his head toward Arthur just a bit before turning and heading back in the same direction he had come.
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-17 11:13 pm (UTC)This line just breaks my heart.
Sitting at the table at breakfast, Mal would lean back in her chair with all the ease and contentment of a cat while she slowly peeled the bitter sweet rind off her orange, fingers glistening with juice in the morning light coming in through the windows. She would lay each section down before continuing with the task, running her thumb beneath the peel and the tender flesh of the fruit separating the two as she slowly worked her way around until she was left with just the ripe sweet sections of orange. And even that she would take her time to savor, peeling apart each section piece by piece and closing her eyes to enjoy the burst of juice on her tongue with each bite..
This is the image I was talking about! It's just seared into my brain! I love, love, LOVE it!!
Arthur had always loved to watch her so enraptured. Until she watched him die with the same fervor..
And this line just seals it for me really*is ded*
no subject
Date: 2011-02-18 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-18 07:16 pm (UTC)