I know this is only a short part- but I've got a LOT more where this came from (more hurt/comfort/romance) Review if anyone is interested :)

Ariadne had never asked Eames to move in with her. He had just sort of ended up spending most of his time there, and then, the other day, he had brought 2 large holdalls which presumably held most of his worldly possessions, and dumped then in a corner of Ariadne's room. She said nothing, because nothing needed to be said. I t wasn't like she wanted him to leave.

After Inception, Ariadne had learnt the hard way that after a job, there is a rule of no contact for 3 months. 3 whole, lonely months. She had gone back to her flat in Paris of course, because where else could she go? But nothing was the same. Her friends asked infinite questions that she couldn't answer, and they drifted away as a result. For a while, her grades slumped because she kept getting carried away creating fantastical designs that couldn't possibly exist in the real world. And she was so lonely. She missed Arthur and Eames' constant banter, she missed the subtle flirting with Arthur, the shy glances, half-smiles, and the not-so-subtle flirting with Eames, the winks, and lingering hands on her shoulders. Most of all though, she missed the company of people who knew everything about Dream-sharing, she was tired of not being able to talk about it openly.

Ariadne kept her totem on her at all times- in a small bag that she never took off. Once, some boys in the year below had stolen if for a dare- and Ariadne had gone slightly ballistic. In fact, she ended up screaming at them in corridor- which no doubt warded off any possible, future friends.

Now, she slept with her totem under her pillow.

Ariadne counted down the days for the three months to be up. On that day, she skipped class, and stayed at home, doing various chores and such, but with the phone at her side constantly.

'He will call, he will call,' she kept telling herself. Arthur had her number, she didn't have his. He had to be the first one to make contact.

But the day came and went in silence, and by 11pm, Ariadne slumped on the sofa, and cried, for the first time in 3 months.

A week passed. Ariadne made no effort to return to class, she poured all her energy into creating the most impossible buildings she could think of. Ones that were seemingly supported by thin air, and towering sky-scrapers that reached astronomical heights, and huge glass domes that sliced through the air, and...

She lost track of time.

His knock came late in the evening. Ariadne was lying on the sofa, exhausted, and didn't really take it in. She forced her limbs to co-operate, and managed to make it to her front door. She messed around with the lock for some time, swearing under her breath when she couldn't perform the simple action.

And then she pulled the door open.

And there he stood.

Just as she remembered. Tall, broad, and ruggedly handsome, with a fair amount of stubble, one large hand casually reaching around the back of his neck. There was a long thin cut above his eyebrow that hadn't been there before and was held together by butterfly stitches. And instead of a paisley shirt, he was dressed in scruffy jeans and a battered leather jacket, his mouth curved into a half-smile. A smile that vanished as he took in Ariadne's appearance.

"Christ Ari-what happened to you?" he asked, eyes raking up and down her frame. Ariadne felt instantly indignant, but then remembered she hadn't seen the light of day for a week now, had slept no more than 3 hours a night, and might have, maybe forgotten to eat for the past 2 days...

They stood there for a second, Eames frowning slightly, Ariadne staring at her bare-feet, until she suddenly realised that he was actually here and she wasn't alone anymore. She glanced up to meet Eames' unwavering gaze, took a step forward and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly she never wanted to let go.

Eames stumbled back a few paces, un-prepared for this sudden onslaught. He caught himself quickly though, and slowly returned Ariadne's fierce embrace, gently wrapping his arms around her small frame. She buried her face in his chest, and Eames felt her body shaking as she began to cry.

"Oh Ari..." he murmured into her hair, holding her tighter to him.

He had, of course, been in contact with Arthur before the 3 months were up. He had got a call from Cobb, who'd had a call from Miles to say he was worried about Ariadne. She wasn't taking it as well as they'd all assumed she would. 'Acts too bloody mature' Eames had told Arthur, who had also received the message. He had wanted to call her straight away, but, Arthur, forever bound by rules set in stone, had point blank refused. 3 months had been decided, and 3 months she would have to wait.

Eames however, was not bound by rules set in stone. His rules were more set in play-dough, and were, he considered, easily adjusted when they met an inconvenience. He didn't have Ariadne's number, but he knew what quarter of Paris she lived in, so, how hard could it be?

Actually, pretty hard, as he had discovered, and it had taken him much longer than anticipated. But, at least he was here now, and not a moment too soon, he thought, as Ariadne's sobs showed no sign of stopping.

He manoeuvred them out of the corridor as gently as he could; kicking the door behind him shut once they were in the apartment. He surveyed it briefly over her head, eyebrows furrowing slightly. Every spare surface and a large proportion of the floor was covered in huge pieces of paper, full of complicated sketches and diagrams. Then, he pulled her over to the sofa, and sat down. She stayed standing for a second longer, as though overcome by the fact that he was really there. He watched her carefully. She really did look awful. Her face was pale, and her eyes red-rimmed, with dark bags underneath them, her cheekbones gaunt.

He cursed himself again for not harassing Arthur more. He was going to have serious words with him the next time they met...

Ariadne sat down next to him, and curled into his chest, taking hold of his shirt in her hand.

Eames sighed, wrapping an arm round her, gently stroking her back with the wide pad of his thumb.

They stayed like that until Ariadne drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

Eames fitted into Ariadne's life very quickly. For the first few days, they barely spoke, except when he ordered her to sleep or eat. He cooked meals for her, made her smile when he winked at her while they ate, and each night she fell asleep in his arms on the sofa.

Then, one day, he sat her down with a cup of tea, and surveyed her from across the table.

"Ari- I think we should talk. Not that I mind staying in your really rather comfortable apartment free of charge, but-"he spoke gently, as though not wanting to scare her off.

"Eames- it's nothing, honestly, I haven't been very well recently, and..." she tailed off, willing herself to think of a decent excuse.

"Oh, I think it's fair to say you've been out-of-sorts, but how do explain all these?" and he gestured to the huge pile of sketches that he'd collected up from around her apartment.

"College project," she mumbled, reluctant to meet his eye. His gaze was unavoidable now, and when she looked up, he raised an eyebrow at her reasoning.

He didn't accuse her. But he did stretch a hand across the table, and gently prise Ariadne fingers away from her tea-cup, before enveloping her hand in a warm gesture of comfort.

She sighed. She had no hope keeping secrets from him.

"I...I miss it, I miss creation and all the impossibilities and I get so frustrated that I can't talk to anyone about it, and I missed you, and the team and I wish so bad that I was doing another job, and these past few months have just been horrid, and-" she was getting more and more choked up.

"Shh...It's okay; it's all alright Ari," he said softly, "You're not alone anymore."