Authors Note ;

I love all of your reviews and hope for more on this, I'd like to write another fanfic I just don't know what to use. I may do a Song-Fic on Ariadne and Arthur.

We never really mentioned all that had happened during our Inception job, it wasn't our place to speak of it. We all knew that Cobb was gone, we just couldn't comprehend it.

Arthur still went on extraction jobs every so often, sometimes dragging Eames or myself along, not to say that I didn't relish for his company, it just never felt the way it did with Cobb. There was a lack of successful jobs, even with Arthurs and Eames skills we hardly ever succeeded in stealing another man's secrets.

We would usually die and wake up before the job was complete if it was too complex. It seemed as though Arthur had lost his touch. And I really couldn't blame him for our failure either; Cobb left us alone without any thought of what we would do after that job.

We understood that Cobb was going to leave us after he got off the plane; we just never thought it would be permanent, but now that he's stuck in Limbo all I can do is cry and dream terrible dreams.

There was another thing bothering me as well, It was Mal. She always joins me in my dreams, it's only my subconscious' version of her but, it's terrifying me. She shouldn't be able to reach me in my dreams, there just so complex, but then again she is part of my subconscious.

'Ariadne!'

I looked up to realize that I slacking off on my job, day dreaming once again.

Eames was standing next to my table in the Warehouse, scrutinizing my work. I could have spoken up and defended my hard work but truthfully, it was the worst job I had ever done. I was distracted from my job when I shouldn't have been, I prepared for a scolding from him.

'We all understand that you're mourning for Cobbs death'

'No! he's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead'

I pleaded with Eames, I knew I was just kidding myself but, I wanted to believe that the body we had to carry off that plane was alive and would soon strode into the warehouse, head held high, scolding us for doing such a bad job in his wake.

Eames just shook his head and began to depart, but before he could do so another figure appeared in the doorway.

Arthur.

I felt strangely at ease when he entered the room, but when I got a good look at his face I noticed that his features were hardened and he didn't look the least bit happy.

I began to walk toward him on impulse, because I knew that he would listen to me because of our moment as such last night.

That was not the case.

As I approached him he simply turned back on to both myself and Eames and spoke up.

'Eames, please finish distracting her from her poor job and finish your own'

His voice had a mocking tone to it; It wasn't like Arthur to act like we were such a burden to him. Something must have happened to him. It was the only plausible answer I could think of.

I had yet to realize that it was my actions last night that had triggered this sour mood of his.

I went back to work, puzzled by his mocking demeanour. I bent over a maze, it was truly exquisite, but it wasn't difficult to escape, there lay my issue.

I hadn't an inkling of imagination left in me since Cobb left us. And I was slowly going mad.

I couldn't think properly let alone create a maze entirely from nothing. It couldn't be done in my state, and even I knew that.

Instead of continuing on with my project like Arthur had assumed I would I left that room, feeling too closed in to work. Before I knew it my body was leading itself toward an open room with two lawn chairs and a small table.

One chair was occupied by a familiar figure; the other was empty, looking bare and uninviting.

It was strange to see Arthur dreaming on the job, he was usually researching various things.

I walked over to him, barely making a sound, and sneaked a look at the timer.

10 minutes was what it read.

I grinned.

This was my chance to find out what he had been hiding from me and Eames this morning.

I began to hook myself up to the small machine in the briefcase, slipping the instrument into my arm and I gently lay back waiting for the dream to hit me.

His dream wasn't what I had expected at all.

He was dreaming using a memory.

A memory both of us shared.