Summary: Fill for this prompt found at LJ: Ariadne has been dead for over a year. To compensate, Arthur takes comfort in his dreams and recreating a life they should have had

Warnings: Character death

73, 67

This moment is always the same. Except this time, it is not.

The cold early morning light bathes the couple in a soft glow. Their bodies have become wrinkled with age and he can't remember hers the way he used to. It panics him and he grabs her hand from underneath the mound of bed covers. She smiles that same secret smile he does remember from the first time they met. His heart calms and his lips brush against the translucent skin of her hand. It is cool to the touch from being out from under the blankets and he brings it to his chest, splaying her fingers over his beating heart. She draws closer, brings her head to rest under his chin. Her legs, not as limber as they used to be, tangle with his. He drops a kiss on her gray hair, enveloping her further in his warmth. No matter how tight and close he holds her she is perpetually cool, like autumn in Paris.

A knock on the door sounds and impatient voices call out. "Grandma? Grandpa? Are you guys up yet? Mom says we can't open our gifts until you guys come down."

She turns her head from his chest to call out, "We'll be right there." But he doesn't let her go. "Arthur, let me go, they're waiting for us downstairs. You know I love watching the children's faces when they tear open their gifts." Her voice is still youthful, unchanged by time.

"They're going to make a mess," he complains, grumpily. "They never open their gifts like I showed them, carefully unwrapping the bows and peeling away the tape and paper."

She laughs. It's a sound that's too distant. He can't capture it because the sound, like her warmth has faded from memory. He pulls her closer.

"Arthur, they're children. They're too excited to wait. And no one opens gifts like that. Well, except maybe for you." Her eyes sparkle and his heart clenches at the sight. She gives him a light kiss and he finally releases her. Creakily, they slowly make their way up out of bed, pulling on matching robes and slippers. He grabs his glasses on the bedside table, noticing the small die there. Picking it up to examine, he slips it into his pocket. It looks familiar, but he can't remember why.

It's only after he watches her watch their children and grandchildren at the Christmas tree—haphazardly opening presents with exclamations of delight—and he hears the doorbell ring that he knows something is not right. He gets up to open the door to find two men standing there with identical sad expressions. They gently pull him aside and tell him strange stories about a past life that he lived long ago. They convince him to pull out the red die and roll it several times. From somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knows that it never lands true.

56, 50

They sit holding hands in a crowded university auditorium, listening to their daughter's speech. He alternates between watching her beside him with her attention enraptured by the happenings in front of them, and the lovely young woman praising her mom and dad for everything she has become. Beside him she releases his hand to search her purse for a tissue, something to dry her sentimental eyes. He pulls out the pocket square in his own suit coat and is mesmerized by the shimmering tears and thankful soft smile she always bestows upon him.

A teenage boy sits next to her, watching her dab at her tears. The boy gives him a concerned look but he just smiles and shakes his head. The boy turns his attention back to the girl on stage who shares some of the same features as he.

Arthur puts an arm around his wife. She is small and light, almost like a ghost. His free hand grabs hold of hers for reassurance and the small hand encloses in his. Sometimes she grabs hold of his knee and he places one of his own hands over hers. Other times she's able to contain her tears and sits proudly by his side as they sit amidst the lilting tones of their daughter's speech.

"And lastly, I'd like to thank my parents, Arthur and Ariadne Rhodes, for their unwavering love and support. They've taught me that nothing is impossible and that I should never be afraid to constantly dream a little bigger. Well, I have, and look where it's gotten me. Thank you, guys. I love you."

The applause around him suddenly erupts and she lets go of his hand to stand and blow their daughter a kiss. He rises with her and they stand arm in arm until the applause fades away.

44, 38

The new New York City skyscraper, like it's opening, is grand. But he never expects anything less when it comes to her designs. She laughs and smiles with her clients, well-wishers, and other business men dressed in suits. Her presence always draws him closer; he doesn't want to forget. The men heap her with the praise she deserves, but she breaks away when she notices him standing at the edge of the group staring at her with his hands in pockets, his right hand fingering the tiny die.

She reaches over to pull that hand out and clasp in her own. Their fingers entwine and he can feel the cool metal of the small band around her finger. He brings it up to his lips to bestow a kiss and she smiles, leans in, and gives her own small kiss. She leans her head against his shoulder, her long hair loose, wavy—as he always likes to see it. Sometimes she wears it up for the formal occasion but mostly he has her keep it down so that he can try to remember it through his fingers.

"I wish we could have brought the kids." She stares out at the scattered suits and sighs against him.

Sometimes they do come, and he lets them run around, exploring the new building that mommy designed. Other times they are well behaved and their daughter clasps her hand while he carries their young son. And other times, like this time, he can't help but be selfish, wanting to share this accomplishment with just her alone.

39, 33

She always looks just like her mother did when she was a little girl. Long dark curls, wide brown eyes, cherub cheeks, and happy smile. They stand together now, mother and daughter, a larger version holding onto the smaller. But the smaller one wants to break away to play in the sand with the other little children and he can tell that she is reluctant to let go. She eventually does, calling out to her before she makes her way back to him. He smiles to encourage her to walk faster and she reaches him as fast as he desires. They sit on a bench, not too far from their little girl and she rests her head against his shoulder as they watch a sandcastle appear in the late afternoon sun. Sometimes there are no other children and they are in their backyard, having tea with the little girl, fifteen feet up in the air in a tiny house up in the tree.

No matter where the location, however, the ending is always the same.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I saw the doctor today."

He looks at her, worry furrowing his brow even though he knows her next words by heart.

"I'm pregnant. We're going to have another baby."

When he kisses her, he squeezes his eyes shut tight, and he can feel both her lips and body soft and warm. Sometimes he can also smell the almond shampoo in her hair.

35, 29

She's in so much pain and he knows he could stop it, but he never does. It's all part of the natural process and he remains true to that reality. Her breathing is labored and she's drenched in sweat. Her grasp is physically painful but he rejoices in the sensation as well as in her screams. They signal to him the little wail that's sure to come along with the tiny face and ten perfect toes that he loves more than he should.

And then she's spent and the wailing continues and then the blanket comes and he's holding a little thing that instantly quiets once he hands her to her mother. Sometimes she looks up at him and her smile is radiant and other times it's tired and content but the look of love and wonder is always the same.

Then they're at home with their little creation and he watches as she sits in the rocking chair, humming an ancient lullaby. She whispers, "I love you little one," and places a soft kiss on top of the baby's head. Sometimes he watches from the doorway, unnoticed by the pair, and other times he's kneeling next to them and he whispers his love into her hair before dropping his own kiss to the little sleeping babe next to her breast.

34, 28

This moment is always the same.

The rain falls soft and slow, not hard and fast.

Instead of partaking in the elaborate, well thought-out plans he had devised, he agrees to spend a lazy day in bed making love. This way, when he holds her she's warm and pliant in his arms and her skin smells faintly of lavender soap and the musk of sweat. He whispers all the love he's ever felt for her, even though he ends up repeating his words over and over. She never minds, just smiles and whispers her love in between kisses and sighs. The rain continues, soft and slow, not hard and fast.

Throughout the day they make several attempts to leave the apartment, but he's always the one to pull her right back. She teases him—he's so needy tonight, but he doesn't mind. He can't stand to be without her and his heart swells to near bursting when she melts every time they come together. Soon the day is wasted away, day turns into night, and night turns back into day. She lies in his arms smiling with love.

The rain continues to fall soft and slow, not hard and fast.

35

"I came as soon as I could. How's he doing?"

"I'm not sure. He's been like this ever since I got here. That was almost four hours ago."

The two men look worriedly at a third, lying on the bed, arm connected to a familiar device.

"Why haven't you wakened him? You of all people should know this isn't healthy. " Neither man makes a move for several moments.

"Well, if you won't, I will." Eames moves to the bed, preparing to give a push.

"No!" Cobb pushes him away from Arthur's prone body, a stern look on his face. "It's because I know what it's like that I'm letting him do this!" He gestures to the bedside table. "Besides, I don't know how many of those he took. He may not wake up that way.

"Jesus Christ." Eames runs a hand through his hair and drops down to the edge of the bed. "So you're just going to let him slowly go mad? Some friend you are. Have you forgotten how that worked out for you?"

Neither man flinches at the other's glare. "That's why I called you. We'll go in there, find them. I know where they'll be."

"How can you be so sure?" When Cobb doesn't answer, Eames sighs. "Look, I miss her too, but—."

"Don't!" Cobb vehemently shakes his head and Eames remains silent. "Until you…until you love someone like that…you can't…you don't know what it's like to miss her the way he does." Suddenly feeling very old, Cobb returns to his seat in a chair by the bed.

Eames says nothing. They sit in silent vigil for half an hour before Eames breaks the silence.

"Did he really track down the driver?"

Cobb nods.

"Did he say how? I thought the police said there weren't any witnesses because of the torrential downpour. No clues. How did he…" Eames stares down at the sleeping form.

"He promised her." That's the only explanation needed.

Cobb continues to stare at his sleeping friend. His voice is low. "I know he's done this more than once. I looked the other way those times because I knew he could come back." He pauses to look at Eames, a plea in his eyes. "I know you don't approve. But today—this time—this time is different. This time he's going to need our help."

"You haven't been doing him any favors by letting him carry on like this."

"I'm not doing this for him. I'm—we're doing this for both of them."

25

"I love him. And he loves me."

Cobb scoffs. He thinks her too young to know real love. Real love was what he and Mal had. Not this puppy love that he was sure Ariadne had for Arthur.

"I've dreamt us growing old together. I've actually dreamt out our whole life together." She pauses to grin. "It's wonderful. When we're old and wrinkly we'll have Christmas in the old colonial. We celebrate it there every year, with our children and grandchildren. Arthur complains when the kids make a mess of opening their gifts, but secretly he loves it. And even you and Eames visit. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her otherwise, because he wants that for her too. "Yeah, it does. I'm sure you two will get your wish."