A/N: AAAHHHHH SORRY SORRY SORRY! I know it's been an unreasonably long time since my last update but...I just finished my first year at college! Ah, lots of stories for the future but none for this story it seems. I still love Inception and Cobb/Ariadne so I will get to finishing this! I also have two other massive stories in the making, both of which I haven't touched since August! Yikes. Well, hopefully people are still interested. Sorry for the incredibly slow pacing here but I have discovered that I am never too straightforward in my writing so...ah, faults of the author here. Anyway...

Read, review, and enjoy!

"I still think about her."

"Mal?"

"Yes, Mal."

"She's still in your dreams?"

"No, no…I don't dream anymore."

"Then…"

"I just…think about her."

"That seems…normal."

"Normal? Yeah, I guess."

"Dom…it's alright."

"I guess you're right; there's nothing wrong with thinking about her when I wake up or get my kids ready. Nothing wrong with thinking about her when I make breakfast or when James asks when she's coming back. Nothing wrong with looking at the door in the afternoon, waiting for it to open and reveal her. It's perfectly normal to sit in the living room with my kids, watching SpongeBob Squarepants, expecting her to walk in, telling us to wash up for dinner. There's nothing wrong with looking at her clothes hanging in the closet, wondering what she would wear the next day.

"Oh, Dom…"

"And there's certainly nothing wrong about me thinking of her when I go to bed, about me not touching her side of the bed."

"It'll be alright, just talk to me—"

"I don't dream anymore—I don't dream of her. But I still think of her, constantly."

"Curly fries? I didn't know they served that here."

"Well, apparently they do." Ariadne noted as the server walked away with their orders. Her eyes flittered everywhere but refused to gloss over one particular spot. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Is everything alright, Ariadne?"

"What?—Y-Yeah, yeah…everything's fine."

She awarded Arthur one furtive glance and was relieved to see his relief. He smiled and her heart skipped a beat until she smiled in return. Her heart sped up to make up for those skipped beats and a surge of blood rushed to her face; she lowered her head to hide her blush and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear to make it seem as though she wasn't hiding anything. Arthur let out a small laugh at the sight, propping his chin up with the palm of his hand as he looked at Ariadne. The laugh in his breath soon faded and the twinkle in his eye was the only part of him that gave away his amusement. Ariadne, feeling sure she no longer looked like a tomato, looked up to see that twinkle in the candlelight and fought back a smile until her cheeks hurt.

He's not Dom.

"Where do you want to go after this?"

But he's not bad.

"Anywhere,"

Dom woke up to find himself in the workshop, alone. He looked over to Arthur's desk and saw that its seat was empty. Sitting up on the lawn chair, Dom rubbed his hand over his neck in an attempt to relieve the built up tension. He stood up, arching his back until it cracked in return, and walked across the expanse of the workshop floor. Stopping in the middle of the building still rubbing his neck, Dom bathed in the moonlight and let his thoughts catch up to him.

He couldn't, for the life of him, recall how he had ended up where he stood.

"How about we get your curly fries to go and head back to my place?"

"Your place?"

"You said anywhere."

Smiling, Ariadne leaned back in her chair and welcomed the air of comfort to breathe in. Arthur did the same, only he managed to make it look better.

"You know, somehow you make everything you do very…cool."

"You're saying I'm cool." Ah, that sly little smile.

"That's one way of putting it."

"And what would the other way be?"

"You make me look comparatively uncool; and considering the fact that I am the woman in the relationship, such breech of…power does not serve you well."

"Relationship?"

She bites her lower lip and his heart jumps.

"Yeah, you know…friends."

And gravity takes over.

"Right; friends."

The remainder of the dinner was awkward and painfully slow. Ariadne spent the perpetual last fifteen minutes of the "friend-date" in a quandary, wondering what she had said to put Arthur in a state of such uncongenial disarray. Arthur's lips were drawn in a tight line, his teeth chewing on the inside of them in a sort of controlled desperation. He gestures to the passing waiter for the check, still refusing to offer Ariadne no much as a glance in her direction.

"Arthur," she said at last, hoping to break the growing tension. He turned his head to look at her, his gaze unnerving.

"How…How have you been?" She decided to start.

Arthur stared at her then, his look incredulous.

"Fine, I've been fine. And…And how about you, Ariadne?" he smiled but his eyes didn't crinkle the way they normally did.

"Fine," Ariadne swallowed her unease, "Are you still working? I mean…like still in the dream business?"

"More or less." His eyes remained cryptic.

"How long are you going to be in Paris?"

"I don't know yet—I've just been…hanging around I suppose. Lingering, even."

"Why?"

"I guess I'm just…waiting."

"For what?"

The waiter returned, dropping the check along with a smile at both of them. Arthur extended his arm, hand covering the small black check holder readying itself to pick it up and retract, but Ariadne's arm jumped out in front of her and her hand covered his; her heart stopped. There was no reaction from him at first, just a slowly rising understanding as he assessed the situation. And then, slowly, he turned his hand around, releasing the check to grab her hand. He pulled on it, pulled her in; her heart jumped. His thumb began stroking the inside of her palm; her heart fell.

"I don't know what I'm waiting for, Ariadne."

As her name slipped through his lips, Ariadne felt her heart begin a slow ascension from the pits of her stomach. It rose higher and higher until it rested at the base of her throat. Her heart melted as she smiled at him, squeezing his hand in return.

She thought that, just for a moment, it would be alright for her heart to follow his hand.

He had been wandering around aimlessly for an hour, lost in the silence of the warehouse. Believing his only companion to be his echoing footsteps, Cobb was taken aback when the distinct roaring squeak of the door opening and closing bounced off the walls. Slightly wary of the intruders in his dream, Cobb tip-toed over toward the center of the room only to stop in his tracks as his heart did at the sight before him.

Muffled voices filled the air accompanied by shuffling footsteps coming from two silhouetted figures in the distance. Cobb wondered, for a moment, what his subconscious was trying to get across with this scene. So, feeling slightly irritated with himself, Cobb gave up the charade of hiding from his subconscious and did nothing to mask the distinct clicks of his shoes against the cement floor. He marched forth with purposeful steps and a gaze focused on the path before him, speaking before looking up.

"Hey, what are you two—"

Ariadne 's heart rescinded from Arthur's grasp and wound its way back into her chest, fighting against the chastising her mind threw at it. There, it struggled to fall back into the steady rhythm expected of it but found such a task proved impossible with the cause of her otherwise regular palpitations.

"Dom," Arthur spoke for her.

"Ah," he seemed flustered. "s-sorry about that—I, uh, sorry—really, I am." He made to turn but a sudden burst in her chest made Ariadne jolt forward and yell out at last.

"No! Wait—you don't have to…"

Ariadne caught herself, realizing what she had done. She brought her hand to her forearm, scratching it as though the awkwardness of the situation would fall away with her skin cells. The back of her neck burned from Arthur's heated gaze and her cheeks from Dom's questioning one. It was all like some terrible, terrible dream. Vainly, she pinched the raw skin of her arm and bit on her lip.

"Ah, this is all like some really weird dream, isn't it?" Ariadne half-joked.

She looked up Dom to see his head tilted to the side. There it was, that look of recognition mixed with an almost-discovery.

"How so?" he asked.

"I just never thought I'd see…the both of you, together, in the same room again."

"Why," Arthur finally spoke, his breath igniting Ariadne's already inflamed neck.

"Because…" her mouth went dry, "ah, mm, sorry," Ariadne placed a hand on her head, wiping away the cool sweat she hadn't noticed accumulate. "Something happened…"

"Ariadne?" Dom rushed forward and caught Ariadne before she fell. She barely had a moment to relish in the sensation of his engulfing warmth—it burned her so. Ariadne placed her hands against his chest, noting with a bleary vision how small she actually was compared to him.

"No—get away," she could barely breathe. Arthur placed a hand on her back in a comforting gesture but she recoiled. "Don't. Touch me." She let out between heavy, weighted breaths.

"What's wrong with her?" Arthur looked over at Dom, an arm still outstretched as if to catch the reeling Ariadne.

"I don't know but…" Dom stood before Ariadne, worry weighing on his brow as he saw her flushed face. A moment later, the walls of the warehouse reverberated as the musical cue made its steady approach.

Dom caught Ariadne before stumbling back himself. The two fell in a heap on the cold cement floor one returning to reality and the other fighting against it.

"Promise me one thing, Dom."

"What is it, Ariadne?"

"Promise me we'll see each other again."

"Ariadne, I—"

"You don't have to worry about what will happen, just tell me now."

"I really don't think that's such a good idea."

"I know it's a lot to ask but I need to hear it, Dom. I need you to say it."

"Please, just—"

"I'll make you all the promises you want in return. I'll promise I'll come back. I'll promise I'll never lose myself. I'll promise you'll never lose me. I'll promise to you, to Miles, to the children. I'll do anything and everything for you just make me feel like you'll do the same. You don't have to say anything—just make me feel it, Dom. I want to feel wanted. I want you to want me and I want to believe you when you say it. I want you to look at me and see me. I want you to think of only me when you come home, when you go to sleep, and when you wake. I want it to be just me in your eyes—on your mind. Please, Dom, please, just say that one thing and I'll be happy."

"Ariadne, I just need some time…"

"I'll give you everything, Dom."

"No, it's just…"

"Look at me, see me…"

"Oh, Ariadne…"

"I want more than my dreams now…I want to be with you constantly, Dom…I want to be happy."