The day at the warehouse was coming to a conclusion. Eames, Duke and Yusuf already left. Arthur was stacking up his files and Ariadne had already put her supplies away. He was going to drive her home when he was ready. As Ariadne waited, her cellphone sang 3OH!3 indicating that her sister Mirra was calling. Her eyebrows rose in confusion at why Mirra was calling her at this time.
"Bad news sis." Mirra sounded upset but she wasn't crying.
"It's our father..."
"Is he back?"
"Then what's the problem?"
"Ariadne... he's dead." The Architects eyes extended as Mirra explained everything. "He got out of rehab but then started drinking again. He died from alcohol poisoning."
"No..." Ariadne gasped.
"I know you don't like him but he's our dad."
"Like him? I lost complete respect for him a long time ago and so have you."
"But still, Jenaya and I are going to his funeral."
"I'm not flying ten hours away for a funeral." Ariadne sneered. "You can forget it." Arthur peered over curiously to see a giant frown on his co-workers face.
"I'm not saying you have to. It's just the right thing for me to tell you."
Ariadne nodded. "Well I'm glad you told me. I'll talk to you later." After hanging up the phone, she took the gold bishop out of her pocket and placed it on the floor. At first, she was too afraid to tip it. Half of her wanted to see it fall like her fathers sobriety and the other half wanted the bishop to stand tall. Nervously, she flicked it. Clink. It hit the ground and started rolling in circular paths.
"Is everything ok?" Arthur asked. Ariadne looked up, putting her bishop on the table.
"Yeah, everythings fine." she said forcing a smile.
"I heard you mention a funeral."
"Oh..." Words struggled to come out of her mouth. "It's my dad... he's dead."
"Don't be." she sneered. "I feel nothing." He could sense she was lying. He was a Point Man after all. Arthur knew exactly when she was being honest and when she was fibbing. She was breathing deeply as if she was having an asthma attack. "Just take me home."
Arthur put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't hold it in. Let it go." The sobs whacked out like a finale of fireworks. Her hands covered her eyes the way a scared child would. Arthur held her close to him, lacing one arm around her waist and the other on the back of her head, rocking her gently. "I lost my father too, a long time ago. I was devastated." She looked up at him, wiping off another tear.
"I shouldn't be so upset." she told him. "He was never a father to me. He would hit me and beat me and call me names. I once told him to stop drinking and he pushed me down the stairs! I hit my head at the end!" Arthur was speechless as this girl in front of him was growing overemotional. "I liked him better when he was sober! After mom died in 9/11 he started drinking and would hurt me and my sisters! He would call me a whore in front of Mirra and Jenaya and he had the nerve to slap me in the jaw right after moms funeral and he told me it was all my fault that she was gone!"
"It's not your fault." said Arthur sincerely.
"And I should be happy that the asshole finally died but I'm not!" she yelled. "I wanted him to recover so we could be a family again and he never did! He died a drunk which just pisses me off!" Ariadne broke out of his embrace to cry in her own space.
Shit, he thought. Arthur never imagined her in this state. Out of his pocket came the red die. He rolled it on the floor to realize they were in reality. Arthur put the die net to the bishop on the table and went over to Ariadne who was curled up in a ball. "Let me take you home." he said. She looked up, her eyes red and puffy.
"I'm sorry I snapped... I just..."
"It's fine." said Arthur. "I understand."
She hugged him and continued to weep. Arthur ran his finger through her hair in an attempt to comfort her. Moments later, she was fast asleep. Arthur lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the couch. He took the sheet at the edge and pulled it over her. There will be no leaving the warehouse tonight, he thought. Arthur was tired himself so he lay on one of the lawn chairs. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes were the Dice and Bishop standing as if they were made for each other.