Inception 1. Chapter 1

"_You are waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don't know for sure. But it doesn't mater, how can it not matter to you where the train will take you?"_ Mal's words still echoed inside Ariadne's ears and even now, she cannot rid her ears of her alto accented voice. Ariadne almost thinks she is going crazy as she imagines the lithe shade standing behind the front desk of the hotel.

"_What are you doing here?"_ Mal's velvety voice envelops her and she feels herself numbly reaching for her totem. Once her hand finds her pocket, total fear grips her as the bishop turns up missing.

"Ma'am?" The illusion is gone, and in its stead is an older woman with smile lines and a contradicting stare. Ariadne quickly shakes the cobwebs out of her eyes and reaches for her identification.

"I need a room." Her usually sure voice is now just above a whisper and she struggles to maintain composure. The woman behind the desk, now agitated hands her a room key and instructs her to pay when she checks out.

Ariadne took the elevator one floor up and opened the door to a dismal room with aged furniture. But nothing matters as she sets her bag on the bed and sinks down beside it. The job had gone well, and when she had opened her luggage, she found a note, written in Arthur's careful hand.

_Ariadne-_

_ Lay low, I will come find you when it's safe. Remember your totem._

_-Arthur_

The note was simple and to the point, just like the man who had left it for her. As her eyes scanned the name signed at the bottom, she could feel a smile at the edges of her lips. The chaste kiss they shared played over and over in her mind like a broken record. She could recall every detail, in her minds eye. His hand cupped her cheek gently and he held her there, perhaps for a moment longer than necessary as his gentle lips captured hers. His tuxedo smelled of sandalwood and the scent enveloped her like a comforting blanket. And just as quickly as the sensation came, it left her.

"_Do you know what it is to be a lover? To be half of a whole?"_ The scathing words of Mal Cobb's shade came like a sudden frost in spring. Turning to the window, she saw faintly the image of billowing silk curtains.

Madness, Eames had warned her that this might occur, however lighthearted the warning was issued.

"_Keep your wits about you darling, you never know when you might lose yourself." Eames chuckled to himself and had thrown a peach her way, which she had gladly accepted. As she bit into it, she had no doubts of anything._

But it could simply be from a lack of sleep. Ariadne rubbed her tired eyes and sunk down onto the duvet covered bed as her thoughts drifted towards the imaginary hotel. She is already missing the closeness she and Arthur had shared over the time getting ready for the job that Saito had commissioned them on. Arthur's face floats before her minds eye and she can almost see his self assured smile and feel the way his spidery hands covered hers.

Ariadne is missing her Parisian apartment with every nook and cranny that her eye finds. The dank hotel room is completely devoid of color, and light and she feels almost imprisoned. A bad painting sags along the far wall and a potted plant that has been placed near the window looks like it has seen better days. Ariadne can feel her soul sinking with every depressing view of the room.

As she sinks into an uneasy snooze, she wonders when Arthur will come to get her.

When Arthur wakes up the next morning, he feels that something is amiss. Looking around his lavish hotel room, nothing is out of place, and his alarm hasn't even chimed. Standing up he feels his joints creak with protest. Age hasn't been cruel to Arthur, but he can feel himself getting older. Rotating his shoulder cuff, he heads for the bathroom, hoping that a cool shower will shake the cobwebs from his head.

Thirty minutes later finds Arthur buckling his belt and reaching for his toothbrush. His thoughts shift to Ariadne as the bristles work past his canines. He hasn't stopped thinking about her since he walked out of Los Angeles International. As Arthur rifles through his garment bag for a clean shirt and vest, his hand happens upon a brightly colored piece of fabric that certainly didn't belong with his color scheme of charcoal and dark blue. The scarf was a striking teal with a storm grey colored paisley pattern and it smelled lightly of coffee. His thoughts flit immediately back to the crème skinned Parisian architect. He remembers her lips upon his in that brief dream moment. He feels smug as he buttons his shirt and reaches for his vest.

One look in the mirror and he finds a young man staring back, with worry lines etched into his forehead and a serious frown chiseled into his face. There was a time when he would smile, and laugh. But nothing was funny anymore. He could scarcely remember when he last wore a pair of converse and some jeans.

Arthur would argue that he has had a full life thus far. He keeps himself neat, goes out when he wants, and indulges in expensive time pieces. Women always linger on his elbows and he is never in want of good company after the lights go out. He always has work, when he has need of it, and when something goes wrong, it's almost never his fault.

Almost.

He had put everyone's lives on the line.

No, Dom did. Dom took the job without as much as asking for Arthur's opinion. But how was he supposed to know that Fischer had been trained? It was his job, as point man to do all the research. To make sure the unsure. He knew about Fischer's broken bone in grade school, he knew that Robert Fischer had been ostracized by his peers in high school. Hell, he even knew which hand he used to sign his name, but he never would have guessed that Robert Fischer was trained against mind theft.

They had gotten lucky it was only the tourist that had gotten shot and sent to limbo. Had it been anyone else, Arthur wasn't sure if the job would have even been done, much less if they all would have resurfaced after. It sent shivers into his spine to recall how deep Ariadne had went to rescue Fischer. Once someone had landed inside limbo, there was next to no chance that they would ever make it out as anything other than a vegetable. Sure, Ariadne was pretty, but without the soul behind her eyes, he would find it impossible to even look in her direction.

With this realization, he is suddenly reminded of the danger of his occupation. Without another thought, he pockets the small red die and fastens his watch. As he prepares to exit his suite for the morning, he finds himself fingering the delicate teal scarf. Arthur knows he needs to visit her, and now he has found the perfect excuse to do so.

Ariadne wakes up the next morning feeling groggy and uncomfortable. The lines between reality and the gloss of the dream world had blurred and she found herself lost. Ariadne fights back the tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks with a tidal force and the end of her sleeve. She quickly crosses the room to find her golden bishop which had taken up residence in the bottom of her purse. It tips into her end table with a satisfying drop and she feels relieved, for a moment.

"_You promised we would grow old together, you promised!"_ Mal's voice screeches inside Ariadne's ears and she feels panic rising in her chest. She feels the bile in her throat and heads towards the bathroom. What little she had to eat the previous night sails into the toilet inside the nearly immaculate tiny bathroom. The totem had tipped, and made a slightly hollow noise against the cherry veneer end table, this is reality. She hears the clinking of a wine glass stem hitting the arch of a shoe and she can feel herself retching again.

After what seems like an eternity, she picks herself up off the floor and flushes the toilet with a sigh. Running her tongue over her teeth, she exits the bathroom and reaches for her orange toothbrush.

After eradicating all the germs from her mouth, she still feels queasy, but a little more refreshed. Ariadne looks herself over in the mirror and finds that the near sleepless night has made her eyes take on a weary look. Squinting further, Mal's face flickers behind her with a sinister smile plastered on her face. She tears her face away from the mirror and jumps when she hears knocking at the door. It has to be Arthur, no one else knew where she was.

"Darling!" Eames voice hits her like the sun and she quickly wraps her arms around his middle.

"Easy love, easy. Whats gotten into you?" The Englishman all but carries Ariadne back inside and she feels reluctant to tell him about the flickers of dream world that occasionally seep into her life.

"Eames, I'm sorry. I'm fine."

"Bullshit." His accent cuts into the tense air and Ariadne can feel herself breaking.

"I keep seeing things," she utters quietly. Eames peers down at the young woman with a raised eyebrow.

"What kind of things?"

"Things, that don't belong." Ariadne can feel the tears drip down her face as she admits to defeat.

"Love, you are going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"Mal, okay? I've been seeing Mal."

Eames gives an understanding sigh and gathers Ariadne into his arms. "Ari, you have to tell us if you think you are going too deep." Eames hums and rubs circles into her back. "We're not mind readers." At this, they chuckle at the untold joke.

"How did you find me?"

"I did some calling around. Said I was looking for a young and rather beautiful Parisian architect student." Ariadne smiles. "I came to give you this." Eames brandishes an envelope from his suit pocket. "And this." The forager lays a rectangular piece of card stock on Ariadne's lap and she recognizes it as a business card.

"What's inside the envelope?" Her curiosity is piqued as she inspects the pristine corners.

"You didn't think a job like this came without compensation, did you?" Eames laugh is almost barking and he is grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, I've got to run darling. Now, should you need anything this card has all the information you need to contact me." Eames gives a wink in her direction and kisses her forehead. "Be safe, love." And just like that, the illiterate Englishman all but waltzes out of the tiny motel room.

And she is alone again. Grunting in frustration, she lays back on the bed and closes her eyes. Images of a little girl's room in a farmhouse flash before her and she feels a faint sensation of spinning. At first, it feels like light vertigo, then the long drop lures her under and into her own subconcious.

Arthur knocks once. Twice. No answer from Ariadne, no noise penetrates the thin wall beside the door and anxiety builds in his throat.

By the time he makes it back up to the front desk, the solid tennis ball sized lump is hard to speak around.

"I seem to have misplaced my room key." His convincing lie earns him a wary eyebrow as the lady behind the desk taps on the keys of her computer.

"Name?" Her voice is nasally and it echos off the glass doors of the lobby.

"Arthur Frost."

"Room number?"

"Seventeen, I believe."

With a mock flourish, she hands him a pristine entry card to Ariadne's room and he nods his thanks.

With uncharacteristically shaking hands, he inserts and removes the key before pushing the door open. What greets him is something he wasn't prepared for.

On the bed near the far wall he finds her, limbs jutting out at an awkward angle and twisted around the scratchy wool blanket and thrashing around on the bed, in the throes of a nightmare. His feet carry him to the edge of her bed and he shakes her shoulder.

"Hey, Ariadne, wake up." No response emits from the young woman and he grips both of her shoulders, shaking her more roughly this time.

Immediately, her eyes fly open and her mouth pauses, mid scream. Brown eyes dart around the room and her whole body tenses.

"Look at me, you're safe." He finds himself flashing back to the first dream she had been killed in, how she had woken up, short of breath and shaken.

She recognizes him and what remains of her will crumbles beneath his hands.

"I'm, I. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"What are you talking about?" He takes her into his arms and cradles the young architect against his chest.

"You are waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away." The first stanza of the well remembered line smacks Arthur in the face and he knows instantly what happened.

"She isn't real. She can't hurt you."

"Arthur, I can't close my eyes without seeing her."

Arthur's long fingers run through her hair. "It's never easy the first time out."

"What am I supposed to do?" Her voice sounds broken, and Arthur himself breaks a little inside.

"Whatever happens, we will face it together." He murmurs into her hair. Kicking off his shoes, he scoots back on the bed until his back hits the headboard. He feels her chuckle slightly.

"That's so cliché."

"How else would you like me to phrase it?" His fingers dance on her cheek and the temptation to lay a small kiss on her perfect apple colored lips nearly overcomes his better judgment.

"Not sure." Her speech slurs slightly as her eyes dip closed. Instead of the maroon curls and the olive toned skin rushing towards her, all Ariadne sees as she drifts off into unconsciousness is _him._


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the clock struck five, Ariadne's kitchen was a whirl of tomatoes, garlic, and meat.

"Are you sure he's going to show up?" Suzanne asked as she chopped up the onion and threw it into the sauce.

"He better, this will be the second time he stands me up if he doesn't show." Ariadne's calm voice betrayed little of the animosity she felt towards Arthur at the moment. Earlier that same week, she had concocted a wonderful dinner of honey mustard chicken for Arthur, and he phoned her with a poor excuse of "Something came up at the warehouse, I can't make it."

When she asked him if she was needed, all she received was a cryptic message from Eames that she should stay home that evening.

"Have faith in him, and if he doesn't show up, I can pummel him for being inconsiderate." A sly smile spread across Suzanne's face as she mashed her right fist into the palm of her left hand.

"Just don't mess up his suit. That man is anal about his appearances." Ariadne slid the sauce into the crock pot to slow cook as she pulled out another pan to boil the noodles.

"Are you sure he is a man then?

Ariadne laughed from the stove as she stuck a pinky in the crimson sauce. "I'm certain he is." She could feel his lips against hers again in that brief, far away constructed dream. Too in shock, she missed the barely there smirk and the lingering gaze. "It's perfect."

"And now we wait for Mister perfect."

"Don't say that in front of him, it might inflate his ego." Ariadne sat on the counter beside the stove and picked absentmindedly at her fingernails.

"Girl there is no possible way he could get any more cocky if he tried." Suzanne flipped her blonde hair and surveyed Ariadne's appearance. "Come on, we need to get you ready. He should be here soon."

–

"I covered for you once, I'm not doing it again." Eames exasperated, slightly teasing voice emitted from the speaker on Arthur's phone.

"Yeah, we can only lie for so long until she figures out you aren't in Paris."

"Honestly, I can't fathom why you are having such an issue with this." Arthur could just picture Eames' fingers rubbing his eyes.

"I feel like I wear the same thing over and over again." Arthur ripped out another suit set from it's place in his closet and watched it fall into the growing pile beside his feet.

"You and I need to go shopping." Eames groaned. "God, I feel like a woman for even having said that."

"I am not taking fashion advice from someone who doesn't tuck in their shirt tail." Arthur chuckled. "Besides, you shouldn't worry. You are the farthest thing from a woman I have ever seen."

"Just because I don't compulsively shave my chest like certain other people..."

"Yeah, all that hair is disgusting. It's like a carpet under your shirt, how can you stand that?"

"Whatever mate. The ladies love it. Cheers!" The line went dead as Arthur reached the end of his closet. Buried far from view was a pristine white three piece suit with black accents. Arthur let the hanger slide across the oak bar and he unzipped the plastic bag around it. Deciding this should do nicely, he discarded the towel from around his waist.

–

Ariadne sat in her dining room patiently as Suzanne wrapped locks of her hair around the hot barrel of her curling iron. "It's just Arthur, he doesn't care what I look like."

Suzanne huffed from behind her. "He may not, but I do. He is a fine man, and I'll be damned if you are going to see him tonight looking like an urchin."

"I don't look like an urchin," Ariadne complained. Suzanne set a mirror in her lap and smiled behind her.

"Not anymore you don't." Ariadne picked up the silver framed hand mirror and studied her reflection. Doe brown peeked out of pink shaded lids and her lips were an appealing shade of ruby.

"I gotta hand it to you" Ariadne started, standing up and reaching for the black dress that hung on the door handle. "You did it again."

The fashion major grinned, brandishing her curling iron and round barrel brush. "What would you do without me?"

The girls exchanged nervous glances as three well placed knocks sounded throughout the apartment by the Seine.

With her fingers curled tightly around the door knob, Ariadne braced herself and pulled open the door to find none other than Arthur on the other side, clad in a white suit and holding an expensive bottle of wine in one hand, and a long stemmed pink rose in the other.

"Hey. Surprised to see me?" Arthur laid the charm on the instant she opened the door and for a moment, he could tell she was stunned.

Recovering quickly, she shook her head. "No, I expected you." She moved out of the way of the door and turned just in time to see Suzanne tugging on her shoes.

"This would be my cue to leave. Have fun you two!" And just like that, the lithe young woman all but danced out of the apartment, leaving Arthur and Ariadne alone, in stunned silence.

Arthur stood at the door for a moment, stunned. Ariadne never looked so beautiful, and so uncomfortable all at the same time. The little black dress that she had chosen highlights all the wonderful features that Arthur loves and leaves nothing of the lithe student to mystery. He wonders if for a minute that the rose might intone the wrong feelings, but at this stage of their relationship, it's a little too late to be considering thoughts like that now. The dryness at the back of his throat reminds him to speak, and it is then that he knows he is about to say something stupid.

"You look nice. Is this all for me?"

Ariadne huffed and walked into the kitchen to set the table. "Maybe I just wanted to look nice."

Arthur was taken aback by the hostility emitted from the usually calm Parisian woman. "Hey, relax. You do look lovely, I mean it." He had set the rose and wine on the counter and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'm sorry I didn't show up earlier this week," he murmured into her ear.

"I'm sure you had other things to do." Her tone had warmed up some, but he could tell she was still angry with him.

"You don' understand. You are a very difficult woman to impress Ariadne Nova Gierraman."

Ariadne smiled and turned to face Arthur's handsome features. "You don't need to peacock around me to get me to like you."

"Maybe I liked you to begin with." The words moused out of her mouth and Arthur couldn't hide the shock that spread across his features. "You are a very charming man, but why are you so insecure?"

Arthur laughed and pulled her closer. "You haven't seen my high school photos, have you?"

"Maybe someday."

Laughing, they set the table and the two sat down to the baked Ziti and wine. Conversation seemed to drop off as they savored the fine Italian meal.

"You are an amazing cook." Arthur found himself complimenting her around his last forkfull of pasta in his mouth and watched her giggle across the table.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Arthur picked up a piece of pasta with his fork and reared it back, preparing to fire. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Or what?"

The quirk of Arthur's brow challenged Ariadne and she held up her white napkin in surrender. After the tense stalemate, Ariadne stood up and set about to clear the table when she felt Arthur's hand pull her away.

"Leave it" he urged, pulling her towards the balcony. Following after him, she closed the door behind them and looked out on the city at night.

"There is a reason I hold a permanent residence here, and this is it," Arthur seemed enchanted by the flow of the city, which was so unlike anything else. It was never rushed, never hurried. The tourists, the shopkeepers, the townsfolk were always in a state of calm.

Taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist, they began to twirl slowly in a circle.

"I don't dance, Arthur." She had protested, putting a hand on his chest. She catches his eyes and marvels at how the city lights dance in his hazel orbs.

"Close your eyes." The whisper floated into her ear and she let her eyes slip shut.

They continued to dance closer and closer until Ariadne felt her head nudge his warm chest. This, she thought felt right. Just like this. No jobs, no danger, just them.

With her eyes closed, every part of Arthur came to life from the tang of his aftershave to the scent of sandalwood that was tangled in his suit. She became aware of his pianist fingers, wrapped around her waist and his broad chest, which housed his rapidly beating heart.

"Ari" Her whispered name made her eyes peek open and she found his sweet breath on the nape of her neck.

"Is that my nickname?" Ariadne teased lightly, wanting to ease the slightly uncomfortable mood that had settled on her balcony.

"Maybe, do you mind?"

"Only if I get to return the favor."

"Depends on how good it is." His chuckle floated into her ear on warm wind and she inched closer to him.

"I have heard I'm quite good."

"I wouldn't know." The innuendo made the pair draw back and Ariadne smacked his arm playfully.

"Don't believe you will get to find out either if you keep talking like that."

"If I'm so charming, I bet I could."

"I dare you to try." The serious look that settled on her face did nothing to deter Arthur and in an instant, she found his lips on hers and his fingers twisting themselves in her hair.

She takes a moment to consider this new development and she suddenly doesn't know how to respond to his tender lips. Suddenly, he pulls away, confusion evident on his face.

"I've crossed a line, haven't I?" His brow creases and he drops his hands.

"No, I was just surprised, that's all." She grasps, but the beautiful mood is gone and they retreat back inside.

From the back of the chair he grabs his discarded jacket and he heads for the door before turning to Ariadne with a smile.

"Dinner was wonderful. It's my turn next." And he watches a smile spread across her face before she closes all the distance between them.

Any doubts either of them had is erased, and after their lips part from each other, they both are secretly relieved of the absence of tension.


	3. Chapter 3

It was their first night together and as Arthur wakes up the next morning, he finds the scent of jasmine and balsam mingled in his own peppermint scented sheets. Before he even opens his eyes, he is aware of her lithe body next to his. He can hear her faint, even breathing and he feels the rise and fall of her chest against his side. He can feel her hair, mused from sleep, snake across his chest and flutter with each taken breath.

Finally, his eyelids peel open to see the pale skinned Parisian woman cocooned in his arms, sleeping peacefully. Gone was the savage pounding between his ears and it was replaced with a sense of calm. She had come to visit him the night before, and through his pain addled mind, he only remembered her.

_It began at first with a mild pins and needles sensation that started around his mouth and slowly worked it's way south. By ten, he could feel the niggling beginnings of the migraine at the edge of his vision. _

"_You okay?" Cobb's concern was genuine and Arthur shrugged it off with a halfhearted "Fine." And the extractor didn't ask anything further of Arthur. _

_The rest of the morning passed in silence, which Arthur was thankful for. _

_When Yusuf had returned from a lunch run bearing Chinese food from a local take-out restaurant, Arthur felt the bile work its way up his throat. What little had had for breakfast sailed into the toilet and Arthur immediately felt embarrassed as he rinsed his mouth out. _

_Ariadne watches from the fringes of the room as Arthur emerges from the bathroom, white as a sheet and almost imperceptibly shaking. Thinking better of approaching him, she settles in her seat and continues working on the maze. _

_Arthur had left the workshop early that day, rubbing his temples and complaining about the distinct lack of a coffee pot in the huge warehouse, despite it's current occupants dependency on the appliance. The dust had gathered on the windows, blocking out the french daylight and when Arthur stepped outside, the unexpected sunshine hit him like a freighter and he stumbled for a moment, holding a hand to his pounding head._

_Inside the workshop, Ariadne pretended not to notice the way the point man staggered uncoordinated down the sidewalks towards the highrise that was his home._

_When at last he reached the front door of the well decorated lobby, the deep voice of the doorman greeted him in an unusual far away tone. The politely stated "Good afternoon, sir" came through a long tunnel and by the time he is in the elevator, the pain is so mind blowing that he can scarcely remember his first name. Stumbling blindly into the bright penthouse, he toed his shoes off, not bothering to put them away properly and he falls in a heap on the sofa, pulling a throw over his eyes and curling into a ball. _

_The pangs leave a bad taste in the point man's mouth as he drifts into a state of unknowing. _

_Some time later, his chaos ridden mind picks up a set of footsteps and when his eyes, red from the pain, peek out of the blanket, he sees that twilight has fallen over the city. His face feels clammy from the fresh air on his sweat caked skin, He doesn't know how much time has passed, only that an uncomfortable chill has taken up residence in his extremities. The footsteps walk around the penthouse, closing blinds and drawing curtains before standing in front of him. _

"_Arthur?" The question rides on feminine tones and he recognizes the voice immediately as Ariadne. Looking up she has a bottle of water in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Concern, is evident in her pretty features and Arthur sits up slowly, in an attempt to show that perhaps he was only tired. The tribal drums resume beating inside his skull and the after aches of each pang leave him dizzy. _

"_Take these, they might help." She has taken care to lower her voice to nearly a husky whisper, and for this he is thankful as somehow the water and the pills find their way down his throat. _

"_Arthur," she admonishes after seeing him curl back up in the couch. "You need to sleep in your bed." _

"_Can't see, safer here." his voice is hoarse and after some gentle prodding, he lets her help him to his feet. With her arm around his back and the other holding his hand, she half drags the point man down the hall. _

"_You don't have to do this." His voice is clearer now, but it lacks the precision that Ariadne had become accustomed to. _

"_I can't just leave you to suffer through this," she says as she helps him out of his vest, tie and shirt. He becomes a near deadweight by the time she sets him down on the bed and draws the shade down on the window. _

_Finally, with the penthouse locked in darkness, she slips out of her shoes and crawls on the bed beside Arthur, cradling his upper half in her arms. Her hands find themselves winding through his smooth hair and massaging his scalp. Underneath her caring ministrations, she hears a moan, and he turns his head into her shirt. _

_Underneath her hands, Arthur is only vaguely aware of the shroud of darkness, or of his lack of clothing as the migraine continued to rage on between his ears. His throat feels raw as the pain spreads downward like an egg yolk and the mental image stirs up a faint sense of nausea. Breathing in deep Ariadne's natural scent calms him slightly. It must be all the incense she burns, he thinks. Her clothing is laced with myrrh and jasmine, like she had taken a stroll through the scented streets of Bangladesh. _

_Interrupting his train of thought like a cacophony of noise, the brick hits his head again and the taste in his mouth is slightly metallic. It feels like Eames tipped his chair too far over to give him a kick and he grips at Ariadne tighter to quell the vertigo._

_Pinpricks of moisture soak through her shirt and she becomes aware of Arthur's capable frame shaking in her arms. Dry coughs break from his throat that slowly devolve into quiet cries. It breaks her, as she holds the half sobbing man in her arms, to know that there is nothing more she could do. She is momentarily shocked when his icy hands grip at her forearms. He seems desperate for relief, and Ariadne searches her mind for something, anything else that would make it all stop._

"_Don t worry," she jokes "Eames will never find out about this." Her hands mingle down his neck and she comes to a rough spot just below the base of his skull. _

_When Ariadne's hands begin to massage his neck, Arthur feels the pressure change and he sighs as the pain ebbs away slowly._

_He means to thank her, but as the pain drifts away, so does he._

It was their first night together, and it was completely unplanned. Ariadne rushed to Arthur's penthouse home when she had completed her work for the day, sick with worry. Fooling the doorman with a smile and a half truth of being worried about her boyfriend, she was let inside and the elevator ride up was the longest one of her life.

Now, without even opening her eyes, she knew exactly where she was. Arthur's steady heart greeted her ear and his even breathing was void of any painful inflections. She had noted that during the night, they had switched positions and he was now holding her, cradling her lithe body like a fragile china doll.

Daring to open her eyes, she looked up and met Arthur's gaze.


	4. Chapter 4

Ariadne, despite all outward appearances of being a hippie, or a tree hugger hated the outdoors. The smell of the woods was off to her and she didn't like the idea of ruining a pair of shoes traipsing through the soggy earth on a perfectly good afternoon.

Nevertheless, here she was, in the middle of nowhere in her native Oregon surroundings listening to Arthur comment on the wildlife.

"I didn't bring you to thanksgiving so you could play Bear Grylls, lets go."

"No, I'm pretty sure you brought me three thousand miles away from home to convince your parents that they should let you stay in Paris after you finish schooling." The displeased look on Arthur's face didn't go unnoticed. "You didn't invite me to introduce your boyfriend to your parents."

Ariadne was speechless. "I thought you might understand. My parents are over protective. They nearly had a stroke when I told them that I applied to a university in France."

"But they let you go, all the same." Arthur's tone sounded offended, and for a moment, she felt ashamed that she hadn't told her parents about him.

"They have this huge thing with age. It's not a big deal to me, but they would freak out if they knew how old you were."

"Ah," Arthur breathed. "Are you telling me you can't handle your parents?"

Ariadne sighed and paced. "It's not that." Arthur strode across the ground and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"They need to know eventually. I don't plan on leaving you."

"I don't either."

"So, whats the problem?"

"My parents," Ariadne trailed off, deciding how best to break the news to Arthur. "They are somewhat traditional. If I told them we were dating and very nearly living together, my mother might have a heart attack."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." But the way it came out of her mouth did not sound very reassuring to the point man, and the disturbing way she was fingering her brown hair told him there was more to this.

"What else?" Arthur's eyebrow cocked upwards and prompted her to speak.

"Isn't it weird, us?"

"What are you talking about? What's weird?"

"God!" Ariadne's foot kicked a nearby sycamore tree. "Look at us! We don't match, we aren't the same. My parents are farmers in the middle of nowhere, and the house is small and smells like cat piss and old quilts."

"Are you saying that you don't think you're good enough for me?"

Ariadne nodded furiously, wiping moisture from her eyes. "I tried to escape it, and every time I come home, all I can think about is how severely redneck we all look compared to you." It was nothing but the truth, her parents raised chickens and her only other sibling was a pot dealer who had been to jail twice in the past three years. She tried not to think about her fat, grease monkey uncle who collected car parts in the shed outside his dilapidated house.

A smile spread across Arthur's face. "My family isn't that much better," he admitted. "I was born in Ohio. It was just after the hair teasing and neon fads from the eighties. My mom wore matching windbreakers everywhere and my dad was an accountant. You know how some people get stuck in a decade, my parents took this to the extreme. They never bought anything new and my mom was a recycling nut. It would have been okay, had it stopped there, but it didn't. They didn't believe in using soap, because the chemicals were harmful to the environment. It was embarrassing to even go out in public with them, even into my adult years. Eventually it got so bad that I just stopped going home."

Ariadne breathed. She knew that people had come from humble beginnings, but she never would have expected the suave, debonaire Arthur to have come from the same background as her.

"How long has it been since you've seen them?"

Arthur chuckled. "I try not to see them now that my job is so dangerous. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if someone got to my family after I messed a job up. It's been since I joined on with Cobb. I don't even remember what my mother looks like."

Ariadne was quiet now. She recognized how much Arthur's job wrecked what little of a relationship he had with his family, and although she hated where she came from, she couldn't bear the thought of being that distant from her family.

Tearing her gaze away from Arthur, she noted that sunset was approaching and her parents would surely be missing the pair.

"Arthur, it's getting dark. We should head back." She saw his long legs extend for a moment, then he stood clad in his blue jeans and hiking boots. He turned in a circle a few times before turning to Ariadne.

"The house is north, right?"

Ariadne's hand slid down from her forehead. "We're lost?"

"No, not lost. I just got temporarily disoriented."

"We're lost." Ariadne sighed and walked in a random direction.

"Ariadne wait."

Turning just in time, she saw a squirrel scurry up a tree with an acorn tucked neatly in its mouth. Cringing, she stepped away from the sound and screamed when the ground dropped from under her. The bottom of the pit was dank, and muddy. It was just a six feet pit, but Ariadne all the same knew she was going to be stuck here for a while.

"Are you okay?" Arthur peered down at her from the top and she stood up, brushing herself off. Nothing broken, but she was sure that something was bruised.

"I'm fine. Just get me out."

Arthur got down on his stomach and shimmied to the edge of the hole, dangling his arms down. "Grab my hands. I'll pull you up." Nodding, she wrapped her hands in his and he only waited a moment before pulling her out of the hunters trap. It was slow, as Arthur strained. She wasn't heavy by any stretch of the imagination, he was just out of shape. Once she was halfway out, she hiked her leg over the edge and rolled out.

Looking over at Arthur, she saw him rotating his shoulder, grimacing.

"What happened?"

"It was after Cobb and I had done a job on someone. They found us hiding out in the French Rivera. I guess they were better with a gun than they were with logistics." Arthur got to his feet, and gave Ariadne a cursory once over. Nothing looked out of place, and as she stood up, she appeared to be fine.

"Come on, we need to get out of the forest before nightfall."

It had taken nearly an hour before either of them spotted the familiar white farmhouse on the edge of the woods. Darkness retreated from the well lit lawn as the pair, covered in leaves and dirt walked up to the front door. Neither of them had realized how cold it was outside until they stepped into the warm house.

"There you two are! We've been worried sick about you." Shelia, Ariadne's mother flitted around the pair.

"Time ran away from us. I do apologize ma'am." Arthur bowed his head in her direction to indicate sincerity.

"Gosh Ari, he's so formal," Shelia commented, a blush rising on her cheeks.

"I know, mom."

"Well, you two go wash up. Dinner is almost ready." Ariadne watched her mom walk back into the kitchen, shouting to her husband. "Gerald honey they're back."

Ariadne walked into her childhood room, surprised by the lack of dust. Everything had remained untouched since she left for university.

Ruffling through her bag, she grabbed another change of clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom.

When she had emerged twenty minutes later, hair still damp from the hot shower she had taken, she heard laughter coming from downstairs. Peeking into the guest bedroom Arthur was occupying, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of the point man. Her suspicions were confirmed when she walked back downstairs to find Arthur in another three piece suit, sans jacket with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

God, he was handsome.

"Where did you find him? He is so charming" Shelia gushed over Arthur as she yanked her daughter in to join them.

"That's a long story, ma."

"Well, we have plenty of time. We are still waiting on your brother to show up."

"You're kidding." Ariadne deadpanned. "Brady is still allowed inside your house?"

"We still love him, no matter what he chooses to do with his life, right Gerald?" Gerald harrumphed, not looking up from his wooden pipe.

"Oh god," Ariadne couldn't shake the feeling of dread that washed over her.

"He isn't going to show up Shelia. Pull your head out of the clouds." Gerald grumbled from the living room.

Just as soon as the condemnation left his mouth, the door opened to reveal who Arthur guessed to be Brady Gierraman.

"Oh darling, you're here!" Shelia rushed forward and enveloped the older sibling in a motherly hug.

"Great, let's eat." Without another word, Gerald strode into the dining room and poised his hands over the chicken, ready to be cut.

Ariadne and Arthur followed suit into the dining room and they settled themselves at one end of the table. The tension was thick as the family patriarch served up slabs of the cooked meat.

"Arthur, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a researcher for a private company." It wasn't exactly a lie. He did do research.

"And how did you meet our daughter?"

Arthur and Ariadne exchanged a look and were momentarily at a loss for words until the door burst open, revealing three men wearing all black and brandishing baseball bats.

Gerald was the first to react, holing up the turkey carving knife. "You thugs get the hell out of my house!"

"We aren't here for your valuables, just Brady." The man in the middle smirked and walked towards the table. Shelia screamed as the men laid a hand on either one of his shoulders.

"Come on man, I told you I'll have the money soon" Brady pleaded as he was dragged away from the table.

"Too late. Lee says you aren't worth the time anymore. He says you aren't pulling your weight." The man in the middle was doing all the talking, it seemed the other two were just for backup.

Brady was blubbering on the floor, pleading for his life. "I am, I swear. I just need a little more time."

"How much?" Arthur stood up, reaching for his pocketbook.

"He's into Lee for five grand, fancypants."

Arthur chuckled. "Is that all?" Putting away his pocketbook, he reached instead for his gold cufflinks.

"You gonna throw in a charitable donation?" The man in the middle had a decidedly Boston accent.

Arthur tossed the cufflinks towards the man in the middle, who caught them midair. "As a pair, they're worth twice that."

"You lucky piece of shit. You better be kissing his ass. I wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of you tonight, but it seems that you've been saved. Keep your shit in line. Have a good night, everyone." With that, the three strode out of the house, slamming the door on their way out.

"I had it under control."

"I saw that. I could have just let them kill you."

"Show a little bit of gratitude, jackass" Gerald reprimanded his son with harsh words.

"Oh, Arthur! Is there anything we can to to repay you?"

"What the hell do you do that you have cufflinks worth ten grand?" Gerald shouted.

Looking over at Ariadne, he took in a deep breath.

"What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria, an intestinal worm? An idea. Once it has taken hold in the mind, once it is fully understood, it can be almost impossible to eradicate."

"What are you going on about, son?"

"I specialize in a type of security. There are people now called extractors. They can lure you into a dream, and steal your secrets. It's called mind theft, and I can train you, so that even in the most real of dreams, your private thoughts are never at risk."

"We have never heard of such a thing!" Sheila said, staring at Arthur. "What does this have to do with my daughter?"

"Your daughter, Ariadne has become a very skilled architect. You should be very proud of her."

"Ariadne, are you involved with this man?"

Ariadne's throat went dry, and she could only manage a small nod towards her father.

"If you ever put her at risk Arthur, I will make you regret ever meeting me. Understand?"

"Sir, your daughter is completely safe with me. I would never let anything happen to her."

"I'll make you eat those words." Gerald's warning was nothing short of what Arthur expected.

The rest of dinner passed by in an awkward silence and after the washing up was done, it was all the pair could do not to run out of the house.

Later that evening, under the cover of a vast blanket of stars, Ariadne and Arthur sat on the porch, looking out over the wilderness, cloaked in darkness.

"It's so beautiful out here at night. I had forgotten."

Arthur chuckled. "I miss Paris already. Less wildlife."

Ariadne laughed, punching him lightly in his mosquito bitten arm. "It was your idea to go on a wilderness hike." She embellished the last part with her hands in the air, waving them slightly.

"It's different out here. Savage, almost." It was true. Huntington, Oregon was miles away from any major city, and the closest neighbor was a good few miles up a gravel road.

"Why did you tell them, after you couldn't tell your own parents? What if you have put them in danger, by them just knowing who you are?"

"Relax, trust me. Nothing will ever happen to your family." He reached an arm around her and pulled the Parisian architect closer.

"I know" she muttered, letting her head nestle on his shoulder.

As Arthur dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead, the fleeting thought of a country house of their own crossed his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you, you faithful few readers. You encourage me to go on with these sad little drabbles. **

The sun shone through the airport windows and as Ariadne sipped her coffee after her flight to Oslo, Norway. She would have thought a day ago that this would be the last place she would ever be. Cold weather and her did not get along.

"_And well, it was a total accident. I broke his knee, he broke my nose. We're even. Anyway, he is completely insufferable around me. I need you here." Eames' pleading voice on the other end of the phone didn't phase her as much as Arthur's broken knee had. _

"_What were you two doing?" Ariadne had to work to stifle the giggle that worked its way up her throat. _

"_I thought a spot of ice hockey might be good to work off the nerves, but apparently, Arthur has never gone ice skating and learned how the hard way." Eames hardly sounded like he was sorry for the whole incident. _

"_Eames, I hate snow." _

"_Do it for me and there is a trip out to whatever tropical paradise you should so pleasure." _

"_Deal."_

"_Well, that's good because I already booked your flight. You leave from the Pairs airport in about three hours. I'll meet you at the airport here. Thanks, love!" And just like that, the line went dead. _

_Questions swirled around in Ariadne's head as she pulled her suitcase down from the loft in her bedroom. _

_What the hell was Arthur doing in Oslo to begin with?_

"_Headed somewhere?" Suzanne's voice came from the door and Ariadne laughed as she dug out her winter clothes. _

"_Arthur broke his knee and now I have to go to Oslo before he breaks more of Eames." _

_Suzanne stood in the doorway, perplexed. "Honey, none of that made sense." _

"_Help me pack, and I'll explain the whole thing," Ariadne said in between giggles. _

Now, clad in her knee high winter boots and sweater, she waited for the Englishman to appear in the crowded airport.

"Darling!" Eames voice bellowed through the airport and the flamboyant thief strode to her side, plucking her suitcase out of her hands.

"You'll want to put on your coat, love. It's colder than hell outside."

"God, Eames. You owe me big for this," Ariadne grumbled as they stepped outside.

Almost instantly, her foot slipped on the ice outside the door and she slid onto her butt.

"God," Eames commented, pulling her to her feet. "You're as bad as he is."

Climbing into the shiny lexus, Ariadne warmed her hands on the heater. "Jesus, it's freezing here."

"That's all I've been hearing from Arthur. That apartment is sweltering inside," Eames was already apparently accustomed to the cold weather and he didn't seem at all phased by the blustering winds.

"Couldn't you two have flown back to France?"

"We're hiding out for a few weeks until things die down. Besides, not with Arthur's knee as broken as it is."

"What exactly happened?"

"The ice from the lake is harder than his knee." Eames didn't seem phased at all by what had happened. Either that, or Arthur's grouchy side had pushed the normally effervescent Englishman to his limits.

The drive from the airport to the apartment that Eames had paid up for was a short drive and as Ariadne stepped outside again, her body was robbed of it's temporary heat and she walked carefully to the door, instructed to go to the elevator and take it to the penthouse.

As she stepped into the heated elevator, she shed her coat and hat, beating the excess snow from them. It wouldn't do anyone any good to track snow inside for Arthur to slip on.

When the elevator dinged, the doors slid slowly open and her stiff joints walked slowly into the penthouse. It was lavishly decorated in modern tastes. Oak and platinum plating met with tasteful black and glass. Glancing around some more, she found Arthur on the couch, his left leg propped up on a black leather ottoman.

"Hi!" The surprise on his face told Ariadne that her visit was totally unexpected.

"Hey yourself," Ariadne sat next to him carefully and kissed his lips.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out muffled through Ariadne's hair.

"Eames called and bribed me with a free vacation."

"Oh, I see. Rush straight up here to see poor Arthur and leave me outside with your bags." Eames retorted from the elevator door, dragging in Ariadne's lone suitcase.

"You are the one who dragged me out here the week before midterms."

"I called Miles, he said it was okay." Honestly, that professor made more concessions for her than anyone else she knew; and it was more than likely due to her unique circle of friends and her recent run with the criminal information stealing spiral. "Why is everyone blaming me for this? It's not my fault Arthur is uncoordinated."

Scowling, Arthur picked up a throw pillow and chucked it towards Arthur.

"Eames, I swear if you don't leave now..." The threat came out like a low growl and Eames smiled, his hand on the door.

"Fine by me. I have a shack on the beach calling my name. Cheers!" Eames had already packed his bags, and with them in hand, he whisked back out the door.

Standing up, Ariadne put a hand on her suitcase and pulled the handle out. "Uhm, where can I unpack?"

"First room on the right, dear."

Nodding, she followed his instructions and when she walked in, the scent of peppermint smacked her in the face. "But this is your room" She shouted.

"Exactly." She heard the grin in his voice and she rolled her eyes, pulling her bag over to the closet. Locating a vacant portion of the walk in closet, she began the task of hanging her clothes and sorting her scarves and oxfords. The whole process took less than ten minutes, she didn't have very many warm clothes. Looking over the skimpy selection of old sweaters and lined pants, she began to wonder just how long she was going to be holed up here with Arthur.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, she turned to find Arthur making his way into the bedroom, supported by an oak cane.

"Hey, I'm gonna go shower, are you hungry yet?"

Arthur shook his head and sat down gingerly on the bed. "I'm more tired than anything. That emergency room took forever."

Ariadne hummed in response, gathering her toiletries. "I can imagine," she said as she cracked the door and started the water.

"Just yell if you need anything."

Arthur concentrated on the sound of Ariadne's gentle singing as the sun fell outside and the snow piled on the streets. As the time passed, the medication in his system blocking the pain out began to lessen. Where did Eames leave the bag with his vicodin?

Attempting to move, the shattered joint refused to cooperate and Arthur groaned, his head hitting the pillow. That shower was taking entirely too long.

By the time Ariadne stepped out of the shower and had wrapped her long brown locks in a towel, she didn't hear a sound from the bedroom.

"Arthur?" Ariadne called to her boyfriend and walked back into the bedroom, her skin pink from the heat in the bathroom.

No response.

"Arthur, hon?"

"I am never going ice skating again." He said plainly, scrubbing his face with his hands. Through the strained voice, she could tell he was in pain.

"They gave you something for the pain, right?"

"I don't know what Eames did with it."

Recalling the images she had seen upon entering the modern apartment, she vaguely recalled an orange bottle, sitting on an end table in the sitting room.

"I think I know where.." Trailing off, she walked into the living room and plucked the small orange script bottle off the table, rushing back to Arthur.

Popping the top off, he dry swallowed a pill and blinked slowly.

"Better now?"

"I think so." Waiting a moment, he sat up slowly, the fringes of pain disappearing from his vision. "I think Eames went grocery shopping," Arthur muttered, reaching for his cane and standing up slowly.

Ariadne walked behind him slowly, a supportive hand on his back. "You didn't go with him, did you?"

"Ugh, no. I regret it now. God only knows what he bought."

Ariadne began looking through the cabinets, her eyes catching tins of hot chocolate and sacks of noodles.

"He really went all out, didn't he?"

"There isn't a single piece of meat anywhere," Arthur complained, shutting the door to the fridge.

"He is a vegatarian," Ariadne pointed out, pulling out the greens for a salad.

"I am going to kill him." Arthur sat at the table, going through the ingredients that Ariadne set on the table in front of him.

"Do you trust me?" A smile spread on her face and he pulled her closer with the crook of his cane.

"Of course," he muttered, pulling her down for a kiss.

Ariadne giggled into the kiss. "Then toss the salad."

Arthur plastered a devilish smile on his face. "As you wish."

Fifteen minutes later, the pair sat down to fettuccine, salad and white wine.

"I could go out tomorrow to get some real food." A smile worked its way onto her face.

"It's supposed to be snowing all day tomorrow."

Ariadne grunted, looking out at the moonlight glinting off the already high snow drifts. "I hate snow."

Arthur laughed, setting down his empty wine glass. "We only have to stay a week or so, then we can fly back to Paris."

Shivering, Ariadne stood up and began clearing the dishes into the dishwasher. "That can't come soon enough."

Arthur looked offended as she turned to grab his plate and glass. "You don't like being here with me?"

"It's not that." Ariadne sighed and went back into the living room, wrapping herself up with a blanket. "I will never be warm again after this."

Arthur settled down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. "I think I can help with that."

"How does the Maldives sound?"

"Better than this." Arthur laid a kiss on her forehead as she snuggled into his chest.

"I am never letting you out of my sight again."

"I am more than willing to comply." Arthur nuzzled his nose against her hair as the wild storm raged outside. As the temperature outside plummeted, the shivering pair on the couch found themselves closer than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Double update today! Thanks to . and Legal-Assassin-006, for being dedicated, and loyal readers. **

It was finally the holidays, and as Arthur and Ariadne finally walked through the door to Cobb's house, they found themselves slightly relieved. Ariadne, glad that the fall term was over had left her books, and her studies at home and felt nearly weightless from the heavy load her classes imposed. The flight from Paris to Cobb's home in the mountains of Wyoming was long, and Arthur felt the jet lag sink into his limbs. The pair climbed the stairs next to the front door, nearly exhausted.

"Aah, the guest bedroom. Cobb never changes." Upon finding the correct door, they walk in and their bags find the floor quickly. Ariadne notices the limp in Arthur's leg is slightly more pronounced as he carries his garment bag over to the closet. They had rode first class, but it was hardly enough to shake the cramps from their extremities.

"You doing okay, old man?" Ariadne snickered as she opened her bag. She felt Arthur's cold fingers wrap around her wrist and spider up her arm.

"That's not what you asked last night." His eyes held a devilish glint to them as he lowered his lips onto her neck.

Squirming from Arthur's ticklish breath on her neck, she pulled him in for a real kiss.

"I'm just making sure." She validated, not missing the look on Arthur's face.

After unpacking her suitcase, she turned to Arthur. "Hon, did you get the kid's gifts?"

A blank look crossed his face and he closed his eyes, sorting his thoughts. "I think I set them by the front door. They will find them soon enough."

Ariadne nodded, reaching to loosen the red scarf around her throat as they heard the kids downstairs. "We should probably head down soon before they find us."

As the pair descended from the stairs, they saw Cobb's kids skidding around the corner.

"Uncle Arthur!" James and Phillipa chorused his name as they wrapped themselves around his legs. Ariadne didn't miss the grimace that was plastered on his face from his still healing knee.

"Hey guys!" Arthur ruffled James' hair as Miles scooped up Phillipa.

"Uncle Arthur I lost my first tooth today!" Phillipa grinned from her place in Miles' arms to show Arthur the gap between her tiny teeth.

"Good job, Phil, are you brushing every day?"

"Yes I am! Grampapa showed me how, and I was doing it, and my tooth fell out!" Phil continued to babble as they walked down the hallway.

"Arthur," Cobb greeted him with a warm handshake as Arthur set his bags down. "Hows the knee?"

"That depends, where is Eames?"

Cobb laughed leading them into the sitting room as James and Phillipa ran off to show Ariadne their toys.

"Eames should be in tomorrow with Saito from Tokyo, and Yusuf is around here somewhere."

Arthur sat in a rather comfy looking chair and stretched his leg out. "Haven't seen Yusuf in a while, what's he up to?" At that moment, what sounded like 'The evil monster from the deeps' roared in the other room.

"It's their favorite game, apparently Yusuf does it best." The two men strode into the playroom to find James and Phil crawling all over Yusuf's back. Just when they had vanquished the fiend, Arthur watched Yusuf pluck them off and bring them down to the floor, tickling them.

"Aaaahh!" The pair squealed in delight and ran out of the room, Cobb chasing them through the double doors and into the winter snow.

Yusuf, still energetic from his play session with the kids, stood up and hugged Ariadne gently. "It's good to see you again, Ariadne."

"Yusuf! Happy Holidays!"

"Merry Christmas," Yusuf's accent made a slight emphasis on the word, and Ariadne found that she had missed the chemist.

Extending a hand, Arthur met Yusuf's hand in a warm shake. "Arthur, Eames told me what happened in Norway, how are you feeling?"

"None the worse for the wear." Arthur tapped the rubber tip of his cane on the carpeted floor beneath him.

Ariadne found her eyes sweeping over Arthur's handsome frame as he conversed with Yusuf. The black Armani suit swept over his frame in a single black line, interrupted by his white vest and festive red bow tie. The oak cane he had gripped in his left hand went well with his chosen wardrobe and Ariadne would be sad to see it go, once he didn't need it anymore.

The three turned to the back door as Cobb, his kids, Eames and Saito walked in.

"And just like that, it fell out!"

"Are you going to put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy, love?" Eames had the young girl in his arms and Phil had a serious look on her face.

"Yes, just like Mister Saito told me!" The 'S' whistled out of the gap in her teeth and Eames tickled the tyke.

"Mm, Saito. What is the tooth fairy going to give her, a hedge fund?" The flamboyant man turned to the grinning Asian businessman.

"Nothing but the best for my princess." Saito, like the rest of Cobb's close friends had fallen in love with the children. Having none of his own he freely, and frequently doted on the children. But no one loved those kids more than their father. Having been separated from them for so long, at such a young age, he had nothing but time to make it up to them. As testament to his success, a picture of the kids standing next to Mickey Mouse had been placed on the mantle, among other pictures of the sweet faced children.

Ariadne smiled at the exchange and watched as James clambered up into his fathers arms. The two kids certainly weren't lacking any love. The two little angels had everyone wrapped on their fingers, and it touched her, in a strange way.

"Those kids will never want for anything," Arthur's voice rumbled beside her as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"They are just so cute."

"Ever think about having one of our own?"

"Our? Getting ahead of yourself?" Ariadne fixed him with a grin.

"Not really." Turning her around, he pinned her against the door frame, and kissed her mouth hungrily. Lost in their own little world, the pair was almost oblivious to the going ons of the holiday celebration.

"Keep sucking her face like that and her lips might just fall off." Ariadne blushed and shot an embarrassed look towards Saito, who held in an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

Ariadne looked up and found the smile lines outside of Arthur's eyes upturned in mirth. "It's not funny," Ariadne pouted as a blush rose in her cheeks.

"Hey you two, dinner is ready." Cobb held a grin in his face, and a turkey carver in his hand as Arthur fixed him with a steely look.

"Yeah, we heard."

"Then after dinner, we open presents?" James pulled Ariadne towards the tree in the corner of the living room.

"I dunno buddy, you might have to go ask dad." She shot the three year old an uncertain look and watched him run to his fathers side.

"So," Eames started as he offered his arm to Ariadne. "Have you two lovebirds decided where you were going to go?"

"Eames don't think I've forgiven you for that." Arthur pointed his cane towards the thief.

"Come off it, Arthur. It's the holidays." Eames deftly snatched the cane from the seated point man and turned back to Ariadne, ignoring the frustrated grunts from across the room.

"The Maldives, maybe." Ariadne mused, looking to Eames for a suggestion.

"If I were you, The Virgin Islands is where I would go. The Maldives are far too interesting for Arthur." Ariadne smiled and pecked Eames cheek.

"Thanks, Eames."

"You know," Eames snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer. "You are looking rather lovely this evening, Ariadne." Eames purred into her ear.

"You aren't so bad yourself," Her arm reached around his back and closed around the cane, pulling it from his grasp. "But I don't date men who dress like peacocks."

Eames fake look of insult made Arthur chuckle as Ariadne pressed the cane into his hands.

"What do they call that color, Eames, Flamingo?" The party turned to the forger in question, clad in a pink dress shirt, white tux jacket, black pants and bright pink shoes.

"It takes a real man to wear pink." Eames said, as he defended his honor. Looking down, he found Phillipa at his feet, grinning.

"That's my favorite color too, Uncle Eames." Eames pulled her into his arms, hugging her.

"See, at least someone is on my side."

Arthur turned to Saito, curiosity spreading on his chiseled, clean features. "Thought you weren't supposed to be in till tomorrow?"

"Ah, I took my private plane, I hate flying commercial." The men shared a disgusted look as they stood to follow the procession into the dining room.

"There are name cards, Phil wanted to make them."

"Aunt Ari, why is your name so weird?"

"It's Greek. Someday, I'll teach you."

She watched the young child with amusement as she tried the foreign word on her tongue.

"I put you and Uncle Arthur across from each other, because daddy says you like to play handsies under the table."

Ariadne's cheeks flamed scarlet as Cobb flashed her a grin.

"You hear that, Yusuf, handsies." Eames sat down at his place, next to Arthur and across from Miles. The group chuckled at the youngsters declaration as they all sat down to their very own little creations.

Ariadne found her name scrawled in green, spindling crayon and she looked across the table to find Arthur inspecting his own name card with piqued interest.

Dinner was shared over conversation, good times, and plenty of expensive wine and by the time the adults were ready to move, the Cobb children looked nearly tuckered out.

"Well, I guess santa is going to have to wait until tomorrow," Yusuf whispered gently, taking Phillipa into his arms.

"Yeah, it's better that way. Santa hasn't finished in his magic workshop quite yet." A sly smile spread on Cobb's face as he lifted James into his arms and led Yusuf upstairs.

Draining the rest of her wine, Ariadne stood from the table, linking arms with Arthur.

"That was a lovely dinner," Ariadne commented as they joined Eames and Saito in the living room.

"It really was. Too bad most of it was meat." Eames picked at his fingernails and pretended not to notice the sarcastic glare Arthur shot his way.

"Shut up, Eames, you know you aren't really vegetarian."

"Ariadne," Miles poked out from the kitchen and lit his pipe. "Have you given any thought as to your career after university?"

Ariadne mused for a moment and saw Saito grinning. "What, and join this criminal lot?" Saito's arm swiveled around to indicate her closest circle of friends, as the remaining two walked down the stairs.

"Not yet, Professor Miles."

"Good." Miles clapped her on the knee. "I would hate to see anything happen to you." The fatherly smile from his face warmed her and she nodded her thanks.

"Alright, I've been waiting all night for this." Yusuf began, his eyes glinting between Eames and Arthur. "What happened to Arthur, Eames?"

"The lake happened to Arthur. It's hardly my fault that he isn't coordinated enough to stand on ice."

"Asshole, you know it's your fault." Arthur rapped Eames in the ankles with his cane and settled back into the couch, stretching his arm around Ariadne's shoulders.

Hearing an "Ouch" emit from the thief, he continued. "You turned my kneecap into a jigsaw puzzle. Take responsibility."

"Arthur, as long as I have known you, uncoordinated has never described you." Cobb intervened, shooting Arthur a concerned look.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't know why I agreed to go with him to begin with."

"Lapse of judgment, darling. Happens to everyone."

"A jigsaw puzzle?" The medic in Yusuf was intrigued.

"It's not important anyway. We're getting a vacation about it."

"Yes yes, whatever empties my pockets." Eames dismissed her mirth with a wave of his hand.

Conversation seemed to die out after a couple of hours and the weary travelers soon declared the need to retire.

"Well, before you tie up the stairs Arthur I think I'm going to tuck in as well, I'm bushed." Eames downed the remainder of his wine and trotted up the stairs.

Cobb shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Yeah, I have to finish wrapping their presents. Miles, you up for some more?"

"I've got a few more hours left in me." The pair stood and slowly the company in the living room dwindled, until it was just Arthur, Ariadne and a roaring fire.

"Come on, you look beat." Arthur's fingers grazed her cheek and she stiffened, surprised.

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

Arthur chuckled. "That's what happens when you fly east to west." Standing up, the point man felt his joints creak as Ariadne got to her feet beside him.

Leaning on his cane a bit more than usual, he limped up the stairs and into the guest room, loosening his tie as he went.

"I love this house," Ariadne muttered, letting her fingers run over the art work and expensive woodwork.

"They built it together, from the ground up." Shutting the door behind them, she slipped out of her lavender colored shirt and khakis.

"I wouldn't mind doing the same thing, eventually." Turning around, she caught a glimpse of Arthur's near naked body. She had seen it many times, but his sculpted body never failed to amaze her. Her eyes stopped at his bruised, and still slightly disfigured knee and she noted the muscles underneath it were slimmer than they should be.

"You are going to need therapy for that knee, dear."

"Don't remind me." Arthur collapsed into bed, drawing the covers over his midsection. Looking over when Ariadne scurried under the covers next to him, he turned to face her.

"Hey," he grappled for her attention as her eyes dropped closed.

"Mmm?" One doe brown eye poked open.

"I love you."

Smiling, she wrapped an arm around him. Her returned declaration of love came out muttered, and Arthur dropped a kiss on her nose.

The next morning was a flurry of excitement as Ariadne's eyes poked open. Christmas had come, and there was no shortage of excitement in the house. Eames, being the freakish morning person he was, had gotten up with the kids and watched with mild amusement as their eyes went wide at the assortment of gifts that took up every nook and cranny of their play room.

"You certainly went all out, didn't you?"

"Worth it," Cobb said, sipping at his coffee and watching his kids excite over the various colored packages.

"Ah, yeah it is. I remember how I was at that age."

"A little Eames, I wouldn't believe it."

Eames turned around to find Ariadne's fingers curled around a coffee cup, and a sly smile on her delicate features.

"Poke fun all you want, doll." Eames looked around, confused. "Speaking of poking, where is that old stick in the mud?"

"Probably still in the shower." Ariadne shrugged and sat on the sofa in the play room, drawing her feet up under her.

Upstairs, Yusuf convinced Arthur to let him have a look.

"I've been watching you. The limp is getting worse, isn't it?" Yusuf had propped the point man on the bathroom counter, and he drew his pant leg up.

"It's getting better." Arthur felt slightly better about it if he denied what was really going on, but it was only a matter of time before Yusuf found out what was really going on.

"Like hell it is," Yusuf muttered, his hands gently probing the purple and black joint. Hearing a hiss from Arthur, he pulled his fingers back, and began examining his muscles.

"Can you flex for me?"

Yusuf felt the muscles twitch underneath his touch and he nodded, pulling his pant leg back down.

"I'm going to keep tabs on this," Yusuf promised. "If you don't start doing therapy, I will drag you to Mombasa and watch you do it."

Arthur snorted and leaned up against the counter, regaining his balance. "It will get done."

With a backwards glance, Yusuf nodded before heading downstairs to the growing party.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he picked up his razor and began eliminating the shadow that had collected on his face during the night. Today was the day, he promised himself. The weight of the velvet box in his pocket was heavy, and he knew that she would think it was too much. A part of him couldn't help it. Every fiber of his being wanted to please this strange, colorful woman and he thought somewhere in the back of his mind that she would warm up to the idea of jewelry. The vintage diamond setting caught his eye in an antique store in Belarus and he knew it was perfect for her.

Not having even breached the subject of marriage, he felt nervous as he strutted down the stairs to find everyone already up, and apparently waiting on him to join the party.

"Arthur!" Eames jovially greeted the latecomer with mock enthusiasm and indicated to the seat next to Ariadne. "So good you could finally join us."

"Some of us like to get dressed before we grace others with our presence." Arthur looked around and found he was in fact, the only one who bothered to get dressed. Everyone, even the stoic Saito, was still in their bedclothes, give or take a bathrobe and some slippers.

"Actually, love you are the only one who decided to get dressed."

"Yeah, Arthur, How could you keep these kids waiting." Miles jibed him good naturedly

At the sound of his name, the kids looked up at Cobb, their eyes shining with excitement.

"Daddy, can we start now?"

"Oh, I guess." Cobb sat cross legged on the floor and tossed a package to each of the kids.

Soon, the floor was littered with shiny paper and the adults watched the kids chase each other with airplanes and dolls.

Glancing towards Ariadne, he motioned her outside, away from the clamor and the noise.

"Whats up?" Ariadne searched his face for any clue of what was about to happen.

"I was wondering something," He started, a sly smile decorating his handsome features. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the box and flicked it open expertly.

"Would you, Ariadne Nova Gierraman, ever consider marrying someone like me?" An eyebrow quirked up, as if he expected her to actually surprise him with any other answer. It was a front. Behind the quirky exterior, Arthur was sweating bullets. Extractions went by faster than this, he thought as he waited for an answer.

"Would you look at that..." Eames mused as he turned everyone's attention to the secluded couple.

"It's about time," Cobb commented as a grin broke out on his face.

"Well love, don't keep him waiting."

Ariadne stared at the box, and could have smacked herself when she realized she had left her totem upstairs.

It didn't matter. Reality or not, she knew that she wanted to marry this man. So, she said the only thing she really could say, at a time like that.

"Yes."

The answer came out stuttered, and unsure but the tears welling up in her eyes, and the way she regarded him, told Arthur that her response was genuine.

Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him deeply, ignoring the hoots, the hollers, and the clapping.

"It appears, my dear Ariadne, that we have become somewhat of a spectacle." Arthur's voice held amusement as he pulled back to secure the vintage silver ring on her hand.

"Let them look." She said with a laugh, pulling him in for another kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a quiet morning in the warehouse. Eames was holed up in the far end, reading several international newspapers look for a job, Yusuf was cleaning out his sedatives. When Arthur turned to Ariadne's work area, the bubbly, Parisian architect was nowhere to be found. Checking his rolex, he knows that she should have been here by now.

"Eames, where is Ariadne?"

Eames crossed his legs and didn't look up from his newspaper. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"You aren't worried about her?"

"If she needs us, she will call. Perhaps she just slept in?"

"Damnit, Eames." As Arthur stood up, he felt his joints creak in protest t the sudden movement.

"Hm, there is that nasty virus going around."

"Thanks for that, Eames." The cross look on Arthur's face made a grin split out on the thief's face.

"Well, if she's sick you can't just go over there."

"What if she needs us?" Arthur pocketed the spare to her apartment and had his hand on the door when Eames tone took him back a few steps.

"Christ, Arthur. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Ignoring the British man's sentiments, he strode out the door and into the light French traffic.

Upon waking up in the morning, Ariadne felt horrible. Chills took up residence in her arms and her legs felt like gelatin. Writing it off as too many hours spent sleeping, she got to her feet and felt everything tilt beneath her. Convincing herself of only needing a shower, she stumbled almost blindly down the hallway, her hand trailing on the vintage wallpaper.

She didn't remember looking at herself in the mirror and reminding herself of extra cover up. She didn't remember pulling her hands in front of her face to study the suddenly strange lighting, and looking back on it later, she didn't even remember hitting the floor.

He felt guilty for not checking up on her sooner, it was nearing noon, and he berated himself for not noticing her absence sooner. Speeding up to a jog, he saw in the distance her apartment building. The five story high brownstone was dwarfed in size by the much bigger, and more modern apartment complexes that surrounded it.

Turning the key inside the lock, four stories later, he stepped into the apartment and was astonished at the momentary quiet. The roommate, most likely at classes had left Ariadne early that morning expecting her to go on to work.

Shutting the door behind him, he called out for her. "Ariadne?" She wasn't in the tiny living room, and the kitchen was devoid of her presence. The entire apartment was untouched that morning by the architect, and as he passed by each room, he felt more and more worried.

Passing by the bathroom, he heard a tiny moan. There, laying on her side, delirious and too weak to get to a phone was Ariadne.

"Arthur?" He nearly broke, listening to her drained voice call out for him. Scooping up the delicate brunette in his arms, he held her close.

"Sssh, I'm here." Soothing her hair back, he carried her into her bedroom and set her gently on the sheets. First instinct took over and he checked her temperature. Despite the shivering, she was burning up, and Arthur wondered just how long she had been like this.

"How long have you been sick?"

"It wasn't this bad yesterday." The words came out of her mouth in a whisper.

Cradling her head he looked at her, concern shining in his eyes. "You should have said something."

"Work, I needed to get things done."

"That's probably why you are sick to begin with." Arthur strode back into the bathroom, grabbing the tylenol and a glass filled with water. "Don't think I haven't been paying attention."

He was right, she knew it. The days that led up to this one consisted of Ariadne working late in the shop, hammering out dream after dream and building countless mazes until she couldn't see straight. Occasionally, she would find herself waking up on her desk, paper from her notebook plastered to her face.

He came back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Is this a lecture?" She asked, sitting up and taking the water.

"No, just no more working yourself into the ground." Ignoring the recommended dosage, he handed her four of the little pills and she immediately washed them down.

After setting the glass on the bedside table, Arthur pulled the blankets up over her shoulders.

"You aren't going to leave, are you?" Ariadne's eyes slipped closed as she reached for his hands.

"No, dear." To emphasize it, Arthur took his shoes off and curled up close to Ariadne, his arms wrapping around her midsection.

"You'll get sick too," she murmured, her shivering form huddling further into the sheets.

"That's preposterous."

There was no response from under the heap of blankets, and Arthur assumed that she had finally passed out.

He didn't mean to sleep so soon, but nevertheless, he found himself drifting off to sleep next to Ariadne, like so many other times.

Ariadne woke up with a start the next morning to find herself under a pile of blankets, with Arthur's hand draped over her stomach and not a clue as to what happened to lead her to this.

Tipping her totem over, it fell into a dent on her bedside table and she wracked her brain for every possibility that would have led her to this.

"Hey, you're awake."

Ariadne rubbed her forehead and gazed down at Arthur, who had a smug look on his face.

"I can't remember a single thing from yesterday."

Arthur hummed and pulled her back down next to him, nuzzling his head in her supple curls. "You were sick. I came to help."

Ariadne's brow furrowed. Sick? She supposed it could be possible. "If you say so, Arthur."

Arthur's only response was to laugh and pull her closer.

"I don't suppose you would tell me what is so funny."

"I find your lapse in memory amusing."

She frowned and turned to lay on her back. "I suppose you would.," Ariadne said as her stomach growled.

A grin split out on Arthur's face. "Go shower, I'll rustle up some breakfast."

Ariadne got to her feet, stretching. Arthur found himself doing much the same. Popping his neck, he strode out of the room, a hand raking down his left leg towards his knee.

Initial scouting in Ariadne's kitchen revealed little. Scrounging up ingredients for omelets and bacon was simple, and when Ariadne emerged from the bathroom, she found Arthur in front of her stove, wielding a spatula.

"My my, what are you doing here?" Eggs, ham, and a myriad of spices surrounded him and she gasped internally that her clean kitchen had turned into a disaster zone in less than ten minutes.

"Cooking." It was stated simply, like she should have known that was what he was doing. A smile broke on her face as she took out two plates, and two forks.

"Should I trust your cooking?"

"My dear Ariadne," Arthur started, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "If we are to be wed, you must trust my cooking eventually."

Sighing, she knew he was right.

"Besides," he justified. "It was my turn anyway."

Ariadne snorted. "This hardly counts."

Arthur smiled and slid the omelets off onto the plates. "Well then, if this doesn't please you, allow me to please you in other ways." The devilish smile was back and the fire in his eyes could have reduced her to cinders.

Her breath was stolen from her as his mouth devoured hers, both parties having forgotten about the cooling breakfast.

Minutes later, wrapped in each others arms Ariadne sighed in contentment.

"That was wonderful," she sighed, sitting up as her stomach growled again.

"My my, hungry for more?" The innuendo wasn't lost on her and she laughed.

"Yeah, breakfast is ruined."

"This is Paris, there are plenty of cafe's around to suit your needs." And as he said those words to her, she knew that she would crave more mornings like this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Some thoughts on this one. I know that it's short, and it's not what you deserve for waiting this long, but the plot bunnies just wouldn't quit on me, and the story just wasn't flowing like it usually is. To my credit, I have been busy with my two other on going projects "Shehecheyanu" and my "Through the Forest" series. Hopefully, this gets rid of some of the massive writers block I have been encountering and you may start to anticipate more updates. **

**Reviews are welcomed, and encouraged!**

The news hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. The calm, collected facade of his fiance, just across the tiny, wrought iron cafe table told him that she had psyched herself up for this. The peppermint syrup in his coffee did little to elevate his mood at that point, and he just sat there, in silence. The newspaper that he had fluffed in front of him suddenly held no appeal and he let it flutter out of his hands.

"Please say something Arthur." She knew that this would hit him hard. A family was the one thing that she knew he wanted, more than anything. She knew he wanted what Dom had.

Mentally steeling himself, he looked to her again. Every minute of his silence had cost her the carefully built wall and he saw tears well up in her brown eyes.

The coffee in front of him goes tepid in the minutes that he is unable to speak.

He looks up after a while to find her serene face. "You're sure?" His voice comes out weak and gravelly.

"Yeah," her voice is almost a whisper and all of her hard earned confidence has disappeared in the withered gaze of the broken man in front of her. "The doctor said that they were just too damaged."

"Damaged?" Arthur cleared his throat, a new, stronger look on his face. "From what?"

Ariadne knew enough to read in between the lines, and she heard the accusation in his voice. "This isn't my fault." The words bit out like venom from her lips and she stood up, tears swimming in her eyes.

"I thought you might understand, even a little bit." Her fingers retracted into her palm until her knuckled turned from scarlet to ivory.

"Ari, I'm sorry. Please just sit down and finish your coffee." His hand extends towards her in an offering of peace, but he pulls it back as anger flashes in her eyes.

"Don't Ari me." The rest of her flaming retort dies on her tongue as her anger cools into mild irritation.

"This is really hard for me to tell you." Ariadne sinks back into her chair, disarmed by his timid affection for her. The normally suave, strong, dependable Arthur had transformed in front of her into a timid, depressed mess, and Ariadne found the whole situation awkward.

"I can tell." Arthur's head turns, distracted and Ariadne follows his suddenly worried gaze.

From up the street, various footsteps and shouts alerted them to a mob, approaching them with speed. The various faces from Arthur's mind jog no memory that can bring him away from the situation staring him in the face.

Ariadne finds that she has never been so relieved to see a violent, angry mob approaching her from all sides.

Simultaneously, time seemed to slow to a crawl as the tiny diner began to explode around them. Wood splinters of it's own accord and the cobblestones float up from the ground, disintegrating onto the quickly disappearing table. As the smoke and ash from distant burning fires blot out the sun and stain the sky purple, it is only then that Arthur recognizes the signs of a dream, and realization dawns on him just before he finds himself falling, for only a moment.

When Ariadne wakes up in the lawn chair, she is sharply reminded of her first trip under. A face full of glass still hurts like hell, but the pain in her chest was stronger as Arthur's brown gaze finds her, sitting just a few feet away.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"


	9. Chapter 9

Ariadne hated doctors offices. They smelled like disinfectant and you never knew who was there before you. Microscopic germs resided on every vinyl seat and door knob and the fake plant beside the check in desk reminded her of a nursing home. Taking a seat next to Arthur, she expelled a long held breath and reached for the hand sanitizer taking up residence at the bottom of her purse.

"It's not that bad," Arthur reassured her. He let his eyes roam around the small waiting room. Green vinyl chairs sat along the walls, separated by the occasional end table filled with well fingered magazines. A sharp draft hit his ear from the windows along the far wall and he saw Ariadne shrink further into her red jacket.

"Right, not that bad." Mild irritation made itself evident on her usually stress free features. His eyes diverted from her lovely face when a ruckus from across the room caught his attention.

"Mr. Scruffy is gonna get it, you better come save him." A small boy, no older than six or seven, held a ratty looking bunny hostage in his grimy fingers as his younger sister reached for it.

"Give him back! I didn't do anything to you!" The girl's fiery red hair bounced in ringlets as she lunged for her stuffed animal.

"Toulouse, give your sister back her rabbit."

The rabbit flew from Toulouse's fingers and towards Arthur's knee. "She always gets what she wants!"

"Do not!"

"It's because you're the baby!"

Arthur twisted the cane in his hands and scooped up the rabbit, catching the watery eye of the little girl. Ariadne watched with fascination as the little girl approached Arthur, her hands outstretched.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Edith. Can I have him back?"

"If you promise me to forgive your brother."

Edith sighed dramatically. "Why should I? He's always mean to me."

Arthur smiled, his hand turning the little girl back towards her mother and brother. "Because family is important, and he may not always be mean to you. One day you will be glad you have him." Arthur placed the rabbit back in the child's waiting arms and she waved before returning to her claimed corner of the waiting room.

Hearing a sniffle from Ariadne, Arthur turned to her, laying a tender hand on her arm. "Hey, you okay?" His voice was low for privacy and he was taken aback slightly at her red eyes.

"Um, yeah. I just got something in my eye." Shaking fingers wiped at her eyes.

Arthur reached into his pocket for his monogrammed handkerchief and pressed it into her hands. "Worst excuse in the book," he muttered, kissing her ear gently.

"Gierraman?" Ariadne looked up at the nurse standing just outside the door, then cast a nervous glance at Arthur.

"This is it," Arthur's husky voice evoked a stomach clenching fear in her and she stood up, following the nurse through the door.

The nurse led them to a tiny room with an examination table, a small stool and an uncomfortable nylon seat in the corner.

"Just sit right there on the table Ms. Gierraman and Doctor Bright will be with you soon." Without any further conversation, the nurse swept out of the room, her sneakers squeaking down the hallway.

"Is this how doctors torture you too? Make you sit in a tiny room and let the suspense get to you first?" Ariadne rubbed her arms against the sudden chill in the room and looked over at Arthur.

He was picturesque, sitting in the corner. His lanky frame dominated most of his space and the black suit he chose to wear swept over his frame in smooth lines, interrupted only by a red tie.

She knew that the news the doctor most likely had would destroy Arthur, but it wasn't anything she hadn't already heard. Time changes some things, so why not this one? Ariadne knew that Arthur wanted a family. They hadn't exactly talked about it in the strictest of terms, but she knew that it was something he wanted. She knew by the look in his eye as he consoled the small child in the lobby. Every time Cobb showed them pictures of his kids, she saw the longing in his eye.

And why shouldn't he have that same happiness? He hadn't done anything wrong, he wasn't undeserving of the joys that a family can bring.

She would do whatever it took to ensure his happiness, she was certain of this.

Once resolved, she breathed in deeply, her eyes slipping shut.

Arthur sat in the corner, fully aware of his fiance's mental debate. He knew that something had been niggling at her for a while. Well, ever since they had gotten serious. His mind occasionally flashed back to the shared dream in the warehouse.

She had just broken to him terrible news, yet try as he might, he couldn't recall what it might have been. He saw the hot, angry tears flow down her face when she woke up and rushed to the bathroom. What puzzled him was, how could something affect her emotional balance so much?

He assumed he was about to find out as the doctor strode into the room, his face an unyielding mask of apathy.

"Ms. Gierraman, I'm Doctor Bright. I assume this is a friend of yours?"

Arthur took the cue and stood up, shaking the mans hand. "Arthur, I'm her fiance."

"Well congratulations to you both. I'm afraid I don't have good news for you, Ariadne." The doctor paused as Arthur's brow lowered onto his eyes, his hand taking hers.

"Since you saw your primary physician in the states a few years back, nothing has changed. I'm sorry, Ariadne. The anovulation has not passed like we had hoped. You are still infertile."

Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut, her head bowing in shame. She hardly noticed the doctor slip out the door.

Arthur's hand reached up and scrubbed over his eyes, a multitude of emotions passing through him. It all made sense now. She had been living with this, and it took coming to a doctor for him to find out what was wrong.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur."

Arthur wrapped her in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. "We'll get through this together, it's okay."

"I'm so sorry I can't give you what you deserve." Her apology was muffled in his double breasted jacket, but he heard well enough to put the pieces together.

"You are so much more than what I deserve." He pulled away, his finger lifting her chin to face him. "I love you, no matter what."

They would recover from this soon enough, he knew. For now, it would be just them. And for now, that was all he needed.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: This will be a two parter, and the next part will be out soon my lovelies! **

Ariadne couldn't count the spontaneous cross country trips she had taken with Arthur since they had began their unorthodox relationship. The point man's propensity to travel great distances at the drop of a hat somewhat annoyed Ariadne, partially she guessed because of the giant money waste it was. But when he made somewhere in between six and seven figures every couple of months, he could afford to splurge.

It had gotten so remarkably prevalent in their relationship that she had taken to keeping a bag packed, just in case.

They had gone to Morocco together, and laid in the sand, exchanging private kisses underneath an umbrella planted strategically in the sun's path. If she closed her eyes, she could recall the hot air, and the smell of the salt as it drifted off the ocean. Arthur had taken her to rural China, and together they had hiked up the mountainous landscape to one of the most beautiful spots she had ever seen. There had even been the time they had went to the black sea and spent days floating in the water aboard Dom's yacht. Everyone had made the effort to come, and it was just like old times. All of these trips had been happy, adventurous.

This was not one of those trips, she thought to herself as she plucked her knitting out of her carry on bag. Across the way, Arthur was beside himself with grief. It was culpable, and hanging around him like a dense fog. She had given up on trying to console him after he had curtly informed her that he just needed some space.

The trans Atlantic flight in the airplane certainly didn't offer him much privacy, but the couple rarely spoke in the otherwise uninhabited first class.

He had gotten the call in the middle of a restaurant just off the Thames. She could remember how he carefully set the wine bottle back in it's nest of ice as all the color drained from his face.

"Arthur, what was that?" Ariadne watched as Arthur pocketed his phone, his hands visibly shaking. When he opened his mouth to respond, nothing came out and she watched helplessly as Arthur fell to pieces in the moonlight.

Eventually, through ragged gasps of breath, he explained the phone call. There had been an accident in rural Ohio involving a Dodge truck and his parents worn Buick.

When the police finally arrived on the scene, the driver of the Dodge truck was the only thing alive.

It wasn't malice that drove his actions, it was the fifth of bourbon and and the wife behind the locked bedroom door.

When Frank Appotinciato's wife Arabella came to bail her husband out, the man was sullen and grief stricken. Harry and Janet Frost had once been close friends with the Appotinciatos, and seeing their visage pressed up against a shattered windshield broke his spirit.

Having no one else to inform, the police tracked Arthur down in London on business, and instructed him to come home as soon as possible; which brings her back to the present moment in the air locked cabin. She estimated they were maybe an hour away from touchdown at Youngstown-Warren.

Placing her tangled knitting inside her bag, she looks back to Arthur. He has never before looked this disheveled. His normally crease free button down shirt was rumpled, and he had discarded his tie and vest a while ago. His hair hung limply in his face and the shadow on his chin was indicative of more than just a day without shaving. His posture was the worst though. He had slouched in his seat, one hand massaging his temple, the other raking down his left leg.

She couldn't let him go out like this, he would hate himself afterward. Getting to her feet, she rummaged for his travel kit and the clean suit set she packed for him.

"Arthur," she whispered, getting to her knees in front of the grief stricken point man. For her efforts, she was rewarded with a sidelong glance in her direction. Placing the things in his lap, she rubbed his arm, coaxing him to move.

"Go clean yourself up before we land." Without another word, she got to her feet and headed back to her seat when his hand caught her arm. A thankful smile blossomed on his haggard face as he stood up.

"Thank you, Ariadne."

Arthur scrubbed the foam onto his face, smothering the shadow in the white lather. Picking up the disposable razor, he studied it, a scowl coming to his features. With the first swipe, Arthur found himself already missing his blade. Halfway into his shave, he really found that he didn't appreciate Ariadne enough. Without question, she had packed her bags inside of an hour, and met him at the airport. Somehow, she had managed to think ahead and pack for him as well, guessing correctly that he would drop the ball.

She knew him so well.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself straightening the thin black tie and studying his improved reflection in the small mirror. All of the personal grooming in the world couldn't eradicate the red, puffy eyes or the overall tired look that infested his body. Deciding that this was as good as it was going to get, he gathered his belongings and exited the bathroom, limping slightly on his way back to his seat.

The speakers above the pristine cabin crackled to life as the pilot announced their impending landing at Youngstown-Warren airfield, and Arthur glanced at his watch. Had he really just taken a trans-Atlantic flight?

Looking out the window confirmed his suspicions. They chased the sunrise across the Atlantic and he watched as dawn broke over the rural farmland of his hometown.

There was a small group on the tarmac waiting for the couple to exit the cabin. Arthur recognized the neighbor, and an uncle, but that was it. His parents were shut ins after the departure of their only son, and Arthur was surprised at the turn out.

Turning briefly to his companion, he could only offer a shadow of the brave face she once knew.

"Is that it?" Ariadne stood up as the plane came to a halt.

Arthur nodded, "Most likely. Mom and Dad didn't really socialize much after I left." Arthur pulled his bag out of the overhead bin and slung it over his shoulder.

Ariadne furrowed her brow, yanking at her scarf to loosen it's grip at her throat. "Were they lonely?"

Arthur's barking laugh was her answer. "No, they just didn't know how to be with people."

Arthur gripped his cane roughly in his hand, dread running through his system completely unchecked as they exited the plane. At this point, Ariadne knew well that physical contact would be a bad idea, and instead kept her distance.

She watched as vague recognition flashed on his face as they neared the tiny group.

"Arthur, it's so good to see you." A withered hand reached out for his tense knuckles as a sad smile broke on her face. The kind older woman looked to be in her sixties and everything about her was tiny.

"Missus Rivas, I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Oh, look at you. You've gotten so handsome." Arthur smiled nervously, turning to Ariadne who wore a look of mild amusement. "And who is this?" A knowing look spread on Mrs. Rivas' face and she beckoned Ariadne over with a warming gesture.

"Mrs. Rivas, this is Ariadne, Ariadne, this is my parents neighbor, Linda Rivas."

Ariadne smiled politely, extending a hand, and instead receiving a warm hug. "It's so nice to know that Arthur is being taken care of."

–

The house where Arthur's parents called home was a small hovel that had already seen the end of it's golden days. Glittering white siding had dulled to gray and the roof had an unusual warp to it. It couldn't have been more than two bedrooms, which made sense. Arthur didn't have siblings, after all.

The yard was a different story. Mr. Frost must have been a topiary genius. The garden outside the dingy house was well maintained and it offered an interesting dichotomy. Dutch blooms were in season and the bulbs sprouted up in straight lines, lined by a small fencing of plastic bamboo.

When Arthur slid the spare key from the eave of the door into the lock, Ariadne did her best to quell the nausea that rose up.

Hermitage wasn't a strong enough word for what had happened after their only son's departure for greener pastures. Stale air rolled out of the house in waves, and Ariadne did a double take as a mouse scurried across the kitchen counter. A yellowed old couch sat on broken legs on a threadbare carpet, adorned with fluff-less pillows.

The whole house was in complete and utter squalor. Old newspapers mingled with dirty dishes and upturned floor planks in the dilapidated homestead. To think that the well put together and previously most eligible bachelor in the eastern hemisphere had come from such a beginning startled her.

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur immediately began opening windows and tearing down drapes to air out the suffocated house.

"Now, Arthur. I can understand you are upset. But abusing those poor drapes is no way at all to express that." Miss Rivas followed behind Arthur, reaching over to stop his progress. An occasional crunch below his feet sounded as he moved through the house, ignoring his tag-along.

"Arthur dear, I really must insist that you stop tearing up your mothers drapes."

"Missus Rivas," Arthur started, turning to the elderly neighbor. "I really must insist you let me do this by myself. If you care so much about the drapes, you take them." Arthur knew he was being irrationally angry, but a small part of himself wanted to justify it. It was nearing night time in Paris and his day would have been coming to a close, had he not boarded a trans-Atlantic red eye flight to his rural roots. Standing now in his parents bedroom with the late morning sunlight streaming through the windows, he looked to the shocked face of Missus Rivas, to Ariadne's unsure face, partway stuck in the doorway.

Ariadne came forward chewing her lip, unknowing of what to say. "Arthur probably just needs more coffee, I'm sorry about that Missus Rivas."

"Oh, it's okay dearie. I understand how he must be feeling."

At her dismissal, Arthur's cell phone began to chirp and Ariadne watched as he gripped it until his knuckles turned white. Finally on the fourth ring, he brought the phone to his ear and answered it tersely.

"Hello?" He scrubbed his hand over his face, nearly clawing at his eyeballs. "No, yes. I'm nearly there. Yes I understand. Okay. See you soon." Arthur's eyes misted over for a moment as he pocketed his phone and looked to Ariadne.

"I have to go up to the police station to claim-" Arthur's voice broke, completely unable to acknowledge his parents death verbally.

"Do you need me?" Ariadne's question fell on seemingly deaf ears. Coming closer to him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and rubbed his back gently.

Arthur shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his head. "No, I need to do this alone. There's no telling what they might look like." Arthur kissed her lips gently, placing his hands on her hips.

"I love you so much." His voice was quiet as his forehead made contact with hers. "I'll be back soon."

Arthur exited the cluttered domicile in a nearly elegant way. It took skilled eyes such as Ariadne's to find the hesitation in his step and the way his hands fidgeted inside his pockets.

Arthur was a wreck as he drove through the familiar small town towards the police station on the far side of main and vine. His time abroad had changed him in more ways than he could come to cope with as he parked the rental car.

Main street was abuzz with the vehicular homicide they had heard about on the news and as Arthur's face came into the sunlight, recognition became his enemy. Small town faces presented themselves before him and before he knew it, a small crowd of well wishers had gathered around him.

He had no idea how these people even remembered him. His parents weren't exactly flashing their wallet sized photos of him every chance they got. He imagined that the scorn and shame they felt for him had become their lock and key, and not the action of his departure.

The day he left home was stark in his mind, now.

_The rain had just stopped, and the smell of warm, wet wood permeated everything in the tiny domicile as young Arthur lit a stick of incense and searched for his stash. The after smell of rain, accompanied by his favorite blend of Dragon's Blood was always enough to cover up the weed that Steven sold him every couple of weeks. _

"_Dude, this shit is danker than the last stuff! This will blow you away!" Steven was a college sophomore, whose favorite thing to do was go to class stoned. He was convinced it made him understand the material more, but as he went over his notes again at home, and sober, none of it made any sense. _

"_Just give me my usual." Arthur thumbed him the bills and watched Steven weigh the goods. Coming up just under an ounce, a couple more nuggets were tossed onto the top of the small pile with a dismissive gesture from his dealer-turned-friend. _

_Arthur was grateful for the extra bud. There was talk of a family gathering in the local veterans hall today and if there was anything that irritated him more than repeating himself, it was sitting in a room full of people he managed to have an unfortunate resemblance to. _

"_Artie," His mother was on the other side of the door and pounding at it furiously. "Artie, we are going to be leaving soon," She sounded impatient and Arthur could hear her shoe tapping incessantly from behind his closed door. _

_Hiding his pipe beneath the loose board by the window just in time, he sat up as his mom opened the door. _

"_My god, what are you burning in here? It smells like a ritual sacrifice!" Janet Frost extinguished the cherry with two callused fingers and gave her son a cross look. _

"_Where are we going?" Arthur pulled his shoes on sluggishly, hoping to whatever deity was out there that she wasn't going to say anything about family. _

"_Your Uncle Chuck and Aunt Mary rented out the veterans hall for a big family get together!" Janet's voice was falsely pleased at the idea. He knew better than anyone that Janet didn't like these social gatherings any more than he did. What was more, Chuck and Mary Frost were what Arthur's parents would call "Bible Beaters". They lived and breathed the stuff, and to Arthur, their belief in a mystical deity who resided in the clouds was about as ridiculous as a flying spaghetti monster. _

"_Mom, those people are nuts." Arthur ran a frustrated hand through his curly hair. _

"_I know dear, the sooner we go, the sooner your father shuts up about it." Janet wasn't pleased with her husbands involvement with his brother, but she couldn't fault him. They were brothers, and shared a special bond completely unlike anything she had experienced. _

_It was then as the two were ensconced in near silence that Harry Frost barged in through the back door, wiping his hands on his dirty dungarees. _

"_Janet!" His harsh voice was indicative of an afternoon spent under the sun with a twelve pack and the lawnmower. "Jan, it's time to leave! Get the boy." _

"_You cant be serious mom, he's been pushing you around for months." It was true. It had been months since Janet had seen her friends, and it was at the insistence of her husband. _

"_I'm sorry sweetie. You know how he gets." Janet reached for Arthur, who instead shrunk away from her touch. _

"_No, I'm not living like this anymore." Arthur had had it. Every inch of his rationally thinking being shrunk away from the dictatorship that the house was becoming. _

"_What the hell? Lets go." Harry leaned on the door frame and stared at his wife and only son, who were standing still in the middle of the room._

"_I'm not asking again." His hand went down to his belt buckle and Arthur stepped in front of his mother. _

"_You won't touch her." He tried his best to sound brave, but inside it felt like his lungs were going to explode._

"_You, will not tell me what to do, boy." Harry's belt whisked through his belt loops as he folded it once in his grip. _

"_No, I'm not dealing with this bullshit anymore. I'm done." Arthur stood his ground as his father advanced toward him. _

_Upon seeing his chance to flee, he did. Arthur's legs carried him out of the house and down the street at a speed he had not previously known before. _

Looking back on it now, it wasn't one of his finer moments when he had left his mother standing alone in his old bedroom. He could only imagine the horrible things that happened following his departure, but he realized that none of it mattered anymore, and there was scarce little he could do to change the past and atone.

Arthur opened the door to the police precinct feeling unprecedentedly low about himself. His meager surroundings didn't even phase him as he walked up to the counter.A capable blonde sat behind a desk pecking away at a keyboard in front of her. Upon hearing footsteps, her head lifted and she furrowed her brows.

"Can I help you?" Her voice jingled pleasantly, but the intonation told Arthur that she wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.

"I'm here for Harry and Janet Frost." After all this time, their names felt nearly foreign on his tongue and it shocked him to realize just how far away he had run.

"Oh," her eyebrows upturned as she stood up. "Follow me please."

Back at the house, Ariadne had found Arthur's old room. A couple of old heavy metal posters still hung on the walls, accompanied by the same peeling wallpaper and a water stained cork board. An old bookcase sat against the wall beside the door and upon closer inspection, she recognized a few of the works. Faust, Nietzsche, and Plato were dispersed between various 'Sherlock' novels, Shakespeare collections and Poe works.

Even in his youth, the classics had a prominent place in his life. Thumbing the bookcase, she plucked out "The Old Man and the Sea" and much to her surprise, an old baggie of hashish tumbled from a cut hole in the center of the book.

'Typical teenager after all," Ariadne smiled to herself and put book and baggie back and turned to the rest of the room.

His old twin bed sat against the far wall, adorned with a afghan blanket and rumpled sheets. The pillow at the top looked undisturbed and she felt the exhaustion of the past couple of days catch up with her rather quickly.

'Just a few minutes, just to rest my eyes.' Ariadne was already justifying her actions as she sat on the edge of the bed and fingered the afghan. Rich brown, gold, and teal intermingled carefully and if she squinted carefully, she could find the occasional orange thread dancing through fields of teal.

Even though he hadn't been in this room for what she had guessed to be several years, his essence still mingled in the sheets and hung on the walls. Curling up with the carefully crafted blanket, she drew her legs up to her chest and let her eyes slip shut.


End file.
