Hello everybody! I do not own Inception or the wonderful characters it includes.


Two months since Fishers mind was rewired. Every day since then, I have seen headlines that he has split up his empire a little more. Two months since I had last seen my work family. I have

dignosed myself as crazy. Its unprofessional to miss them as much as I do. I walk down the street and see a sleek black car; and I wait for Saito to tell me to get in. I sit in a cafe, hearing a hardy laugh-

looking up to see if Eames found something amusing. I watch a newspaper being folded on the subway- I look up to see if Cobbs face is going to smile up at me like it has in the past. But im always just

alone. I walk down the streets of Upper Paris, and see a man in a smart tailored suit float by Mont Blanc- buying a new pen perhaps for his dashing attire? I wait to see if Arthur will turn around and give me

his cresent smirk, to see his slick hair and thunderous eyes once more.


I went back to school. Miles barely glanced in my direction when I cameto class that first day back. Like I hadnt missed almost 6 months of education. Maybe, I wonder, if all of what happened was just a

dream. I contemplated that until I flipped through my sketch book and found the maze Cobb had me draw so many lifetimes ago. And I wonder; how am I going to go on? How am I going to be satisified with

a job as a regular architect? How am I going to be content with starting my own business and work for Parisian bussinessmen? How am I going to sustain by imagination by being limited to gravity?

The answer: Im not.


"RAWWRRR!" I screech at the top of my lungs. My french bulldog I recently adopted jumped three feet in the air from my outburst. I threw my sketch pad across the floor in an unsatisfying bump, and i

slamming my head agianst the table. Taking a deep breath, I looked around me at my new apartment. I was several blocks from the Eiffel Tower, so the view at night was gorgeous. The rooms were warm,

with a overstuffed leather couch and a Morrocan throw, and colours everywhere. I had a excess amount of cash to play with, so I decided to move from starving artist one room shack to a penthouse-Donald

Trump styled.


Unhappy with the sketches I have been producing lately, I grabbed my lavender peacoat and waited for the elavator to reach my loft before I headed out into the early spring night. Ding. I stepped onto

the stainless steel craft, and was lowered down from my 12 story abode to the groundfloor where a kindly American attendant helped me out and ushered me out the door.

Into the night air, I found myself lost in thought. I didnt have a set destination to go, but whereever it was, I was going to walk. I wasnt to keen on saftey at that given moment in time, and my mind drifted

back to Arthur as it usually did- how he would scold me for not being causous in such a large city, and since I wasn't even from Paris- I was from South Carolina- it was even more dangerous for a petit

American Brunette to walk the streets of glamour by herself. I brushed that kind gentleman from my mind, and headed down the way to a little irish pub that was located in the starving artist side of town; 16

blocks from here.


I reached my destination at a quarter to nine. about an hour from the time I left. I made a mental note that I would need to get a taxi home, since walking home at possibly one am was not the smartest

idea I could have, and even Eames would have guffawed at the thought; saying something like " darling, you may think you have the balls to do that; but a savvy lad as myself would try to pick you up. and that,

my love, is not who you would want to wake to in the morning. unless... it WAS me, then I give you permission to get in my car anytime and I will drive you to the finest hotel in this city." I smirked at the audacity he

always had to tell me stuff like that. how I missed him. How I missed all of them right now.

I walked into the tavern- a small crowed place, men roaring with laughter, some throwing beers at each other- others yelling for refills, and all of them getting louder and louder by the second. I pulled up

a creaky wooden stool next to a blonde young boy not even out of his teens next me. well- I wasnt either. I was turning twenty in three months. But the expression on this young boys face was warm and

inviting as he contemplated something in his dark mug of ale. I smiled back; returning the kindness, and asked for the tallest glass of whatever liquor was closest to the attendent.


Five tall ones later, and i saw a swirl of light and glasses mix infront of my eyes.

"YOUR FUNNY HAHAHAHAHA" I yelled loudly to the lad sitting next to me. He wasnt half as drunk as I was, but he took intrest in me. He smiled a charming smile, and as I about fell from my barstool, he

grabbed my arms, and hoisted me to my feet. Paying for both of us, he led me out the door into the cool March night. I tripped over pavenment several times, his grip on my arms changing to my shoulders,

and slowly slipping down to my chest.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOINNGG BOII?" I began to splutter out, as he began to feel me up. "We just met, and your adorable and all, but

lets save this for the second date. did you know, I was part of something called inceptio..."

Before I could finish that hellish sentence, his mouth greeted mine, and I was didnt know what to say. Thank you perhaps from letting my covert job be told to the entire world? Or get the hell away if you

want to see the next morning for sticking your tongue down my throat and feeling all over my boobs. But before I could say anything, a strong hand pulled that adolescent away from me, and threw me over

his shoulder. my vision was sloshy at best, and for a moment I thought I was perhaps upon a boat, but then i realized the feel of Italian cloth underneath my fingers, and the smell of cologne and gel

belonging to only one person. Arthur. But it couldnt be him, he was God knows where doing who knows what, and why would he be lurking in a dark alleyway in a shady part of Paris behind one of the only

Irish bars in the city? I didnt know, nor did i care, except that i felt extremely nausous, and i would feel bad if i threw up on this guys couture suits probably made from virgin alpaca hair.


Here is my first Ariadne/ Arthur fic! if there is something you would like to see or if you would like to see something change, please tell me. I would like to know. I love this couple and I hope its up to you guys standards!