InsaneJournal

Who: Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur
Where: Arthur and Ariadne's place
When: Some hours after Glory goes down
What: Everybody comes back eventually in Colligo.
Rating: Expect man-tears and possibly some cursing.
Status: Closed, in progress


For all that she'd been in Colligo almost a year now, Ariadne had really been rather lucky. This was only the first time she'd died, and in this city that was rather remarkable. Perhaps the law of averages had to kick in eventually. It was even worse for being a case of mistaken identity, though Ariadne would gladly have suffered in Juno's place. Well. Had suffered. Hopefully the other girl hadn't been caught as well. But since Colligo appeared to be mostly intact Ariadne could guess that the walls of reality had remained unripped by the use of a mystical girl-shaped key. What had happened to her was still somewhat fuzzy. Glory had been demanding information she didn't know, and then seemed to grow bored, and all Ariadne had had time to think was that she hoped Eames had had time to get away, and then - then she'd been waking up at the library, same as the day she'd been brought here for the first time. The guards didn't need to hustle her out. She was out the door as fast as her feet could carry her.

Ariadne didn't stop to call ahead, which was probably a poor decision. But she didn't want to call and have to wait, she wanted to get home as soon as she possibly could. Possibly someone could have brought her home faster but she was already halfway there by the time the thought occurred to her. All she could think about was how Arthur and Eames might have reacted to her death. She hoped desperately that they hadn't done something stupid. As much as she loved them, she really hoped that they'd been sensible enough to not go on some suicidal revenge mission. Neither of them had been at the library but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Six flights of stairs flew by under her feet, and soon she was letting herself into her flat - apartment, she'd clearly spent too much time with Eames if she was thinking of it as a flat - and hoping her boys were there. It wasn't a term she ever spoke aloud, but in her heart she secretly thought of them as her boys. And she was theirs. Now if only they were actually home. "Guys?"