A/N: *does a dance* FUCK YEAH INCEPTION FAN FICTION! *dances again* I'm so excited, I seriously hope you guys like this. And if I messed anything up, like any technical things, PLEASE tell me. I've only seen Inception twice (though I've studied it on the internet plenty) I want to make sure I get things right. So here ya go!

Enjoi~

Arthur stood alone in the middle of a large, colorless desert. The sky seemed gray, and the ground was barely a shade darker than white. The air was dry, causing Arthur to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves. He raised his hand up against the burning sun, trying to see if there was anything in the abandoned desert.

"Arthur?"

He knew that voice. He quickly turned around, trying to locate the voice. Then there she was. Had she been there the whole time? Ariadne stuffed her hands in her pockets, and shook her head. "Here we are again. This is, what, the hundredth time we've met?"

"Yeah," Arthur said sheepishly.

Ariadne looked at him with a look of disdain. "You realize what you're doing? This is what Cobb did to Mal, and you know how that turned out."

"But at least you're not dead," Arthur muttered.

"Yes, that is true," she paused for a minute. "You miss me. That's why you've been hooking up to the PASIV machine almost every night. You don't need to do this, Arthur. Just let me go, please. For your own sake." She licked her lips and took a slow step towards the stiff point man. Soon enough, they were barely inches from each other. "It's been a year since you've really seen me, anyways."

"And that is killing me," Arthur admitted to her. He reached down and grabbed her hands. "I want to really touch you, not the projection of you. Ariadne, why did you have to leave?"

Ariadne intertwined their fingers. "Why don't you bring the scene back for us again? Just to refresh our memories?"

Arthur didn't want to watch it again. He remembered the memory all too well, and he always hated this part of his reoccurring dream. The scenery changed, and then he and the fake Ariadne were in a drab hotel room. In the corner of the room sat a trembling girl. She had her knees pulled up against her chest, and her chin rested on her kneecaps. At her toes sat a toppled over bishop. Arthur felt a lump in his throat as he gazed at the girl.

"I look terrible," projection Ariadne observed.

Arthur nodded tensely. He clenched his fists as there was a knock on the hotel room door. The Ariadne from Arthur's memory didn't flinch, and she didn't take her eyes off of the totem.

"This is where I start to become worried," Arthur muttered as he waited for the frantic sound of his voice to float through the door.

"It's me, are you in there?" Arthur said within the memory. He had been careful not to say their names, incase there had been anyone listening. It had been only five days after the Fischer job, anyways. It wasn't exactly safe to be nonchalantly chatting each other up, but the look in Ariadne's eyes as he watched her hail a cab from the airport had alerted him that she wasn't exactly stable.

Arthur crossed his arms as he watched himself from the memory practically break down the door to get in, since the stunned Ariadne hadn't moved an inch to let him in. Once Arthur had gotten inside the hotel room and heard how eerily quiet it was in the room, he knew something had been wrong. His hand automatically went to his trusty handgun he had concealed deep behind his coat. But if only a gun would've helped Arthur in what happened next.

When Arthur first spotted Ariadne sitting in the corner of the room, emotionless and blank, he couldn't help but suck in a tight breath. He knew that everyone had trouble after their first dream. But Ariadne had seemed like such a natural- he didn't expect her to have such a downfall. Slowly, he approached Ariadne like you would a suicide jumper. "Ariadne, are you alright?"

The skin between her eyebrows had crinkled. Then she bite her lips and spoke in a raspy voice that made Arthur want to cringe. "It's not worth it."

"What's not worth it?" Arthur asked, his fists knotting.

Ariadne looked up to Arthur, a slight smirk coloring her face. "The pure creation of the dream. It's. Not. Worth it." she drew out the last phrase of her sentence, her eyes never dropping from Arthur's. "What almost happened to Cobb and Saito was unnecessary. To be trapped in your own subconscious..." she trailed off, her eyes practically glazing over. "Have you ever been there, to Limbo?" she asked robotically.

Arthur didn't want to answer her, provoking whatever was going through her head any further. "Ariadne, what you're experiencing right now is perfectly normal for someone who just experienced what you have in the past week."

"I had to shoot Mal. It was just her projection, though," she said, ignoring the fact that Arthur had even spoken. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Arthur had beaten her to it.

"Ariadne, why don't you go take a shower, I'll clean up, and then we'll have a conversation. You aren't yourself right now. Come on," he reached his hand out towards the crumbling girl in front of him, and the REAL Arthur swallowed hard as he watched it all unfold. He watched himself, so ignorant to what was about to happen. He looked into Ariadne's eyes and wondered how he didn't see the uncertainty and pain that he saw in them now.

"You need to leave," she murmured. "Now."

Arthur had been taken aback. What did she mean, he needed to leave? "Ariadne, I don't get-"

"I'm done with this... the dreams. I just can't deal with it all. And Arthur, you being here is making me question my sanity. Please, you just need to leave, and let me be," Ariadne almost sobbed. "I'm sorry, but please, just get out." She stood up now and started pushing on Arthur's chest.

The point man wore a confused expression as Ariadne tried to kick him out of the hotel room. "Ariadne, don't you want me here? I can help you with what you're dealing with, I promise!" he pleaded. But the architect wasn't hearing it. Arthur had decided it was time for a different route, a more personal take on things. "I don't want to leave you, Ariadne. Back in the dream, when I told you to give me a kiss, I knew it would never work, but I just wanted to do it anyways."

Ariadne barely let up, but she was now crying uncontrollably. "Please, Arthur don't-"

"During the few months I've known you, you've made me feel something inside myself that I've never felt before. It's weird and foreign to me, and I know that I never gave any hint or clue during the Fischer job, but you just have to listen to me, Ariadne. I care about you, please stop trying to push me away," Arthur tripped up on his own fit (a rare occurrence) and stumbled into the doorframe, which he gripped for dear life. Only during his angst filled teenage years had he felt this much turmoil inside of him, and it was also the first time in a long time that he cared so much for a single person. "Please..."

Ariadne cupped her hands on both sides of his face stood up high on her tip-toes. Next thing Arthur knew, they were kissing. And it wasn't nearly as short as their first kiss had been. Not by a long shot. This kiss was full of passion, and emotion. Arthur could feel her tears on her cheeks, and even in her kiss. It tasted salty, Arthur couldn't help but notice.

But then it ended. Ariadne retracted back down to her natural height and reached for the doorknob. "Good-bye, Arthur. Thank you for everything."

The door closed with a powerful sound, almost bring the true Arthur who had been watching the memory to his knees. Everything faded away then, and the next thing the point man knew, he was waking up in his bedroom. He looked to his side, as he always did when he woke up, and let out a long sigh when he saw that Ariadne wasn't laying beside him. Why would she be in the first place?

Arthur stumbled out into his kitchen in the same clothes he feel asleep in: a crinkled suit that he hasn't taken off in over three weeks. He hadn't the energy to change, or take a shower for that matter. He reached up in his cupboard for his flask, which he gladly filled with straight vodka. He always had a high tolerance when it came to alcohol, anyways.

And this is what he would do all day. Sit, and drink.

"What's the matter with you," he grunted towards himself. "You used to be the best point man a team could ask for... Cobb could ask for..." his thoughts trailed off to three months after the Fischer job, three months after Ariadne stepped out of his life forever.

He was sitting in a running shower when he heard his cell phone ringing. He stepped out of the shower, not bothering to turn off the water or grab a towel, picked up his phone and answered it. "Hello."

"Arthur, it's Cobb."

Arthur didn't say anything.

"Are you there?" Cobb asked over the phone.

Arthur had nodded, then remembered Cobb couldn't see him. "Yeah, sure. I'm here. What?"

"...Are you okay, Arthur?"

"Why did you call, Cobb?" Arthur snapped, longing to just go sit in the shower again. The brisk air was starting to bother him, and he ached for the warmth of the water running over him, washing the tension away.

Cobb hesitated, but only for a moment. "Eames is getting a job lined up, and asked me to get in contact with you. I'm not going to be involved in it personally, but he says that you've been ignoring his calls..."

"Not intentionally," Arthur said honestly. "Tell Eames, no. I'm not good to work."

"Are you hurt?" Cobb sounded even more worried. It wasn't like his point man to be acting this way, unless something was seriously wrong. And by the tone of Arthur's voice, something was definitely wrong.

"My subconscious is no good. Not now..." Arthur told Cobb thickly. It was the first time he had said it out loud, and it almost choked him to say it. Arthur, the dreamer, not able to dream properly. That almost sounds laughable.

Cobb immediately felt guilty. He was the one that dragged Arthur into the Inception job. But as Cobb looked over to the living room where he saw his two children playing, he didn't think that he'd do anything differently. That thought made him feel sick to his stomach, feeling like one of the worst people to walk the face of the Earth. "Well," Cobb started again, "do you know how to get in touch with Ariadne?"

Arthur hung up the phone, ready to return to the shower.

000

In present day, Arthur sat on the couch with his flask in his hand. He took a long sip, then wiped his mouth after he drank. He couldn't help but notice that he was growing a beard. He groaned as he leaned back against the couch. He needed to clean himself up, he knew. But every time he shaved, every time he put on a new suit, every time he put his hand on the doorknob, ready to go, he ended up back on the couch, with his vodka.

"It's not even the fact that she just closed the door on me, after I practically confused my love to her," he said to himself, feeling rather tipsy at this point. "It's what she told me before she kicked me out. About it 'not being worth it.'" He took another long drink from the flask. "IS IT WORTH IT?" he was yelling now.

Everything he thought he believed was challenged the day Ariadne walked out of his life for good. "What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do!" she shouted at the wall.

"You really should get this whole habit you have going on checked out," a voice leaked from behind his apartment door.

He knew that fucking voice anywhere.

He walked over to the door, opened it, and punched that British douche in the face. He stumbled a bit, but didn't fall. He straightened his back and rubbed his jaw. "Now," Eames started, "was that really such a way to greet your old friend?"

Arthur punched him again.