Hey theeeeeeeeeeere everyone! I am SO sorry I haven't updated in a million years. I kind of lost track of this story and got busy and lost interest, but all of your amazing, positive reviews brought me back! I'll try to update quicker next time, I promise! Here is chapter 2, I hope it's too your liking. Again, not betaed so most likely riddled with grammar problems. Sorry!

D/A: The song 'Sex and Candy' belongs to Marcy Playground, Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan

Chapter Two:

The sound was barely perceptible at first. A steady click-clack of hard rubber against cold floor, the sound bouncing off the walls in multiple echoes. It sounded like water droplets, or a ball bouncing, or maybe even their blood dripping on the floor.

Arthur never thought it could be her. He didn't even take it into consideration, he simply assumed that the woman that was coming up behind them, the woman wearing heels that made his head ache; well, she was with Fischer, just another guard or another tool to torture them. His vision was hazy so it took him a moment to make out her form when she stepped into his line of sight. With her back to him, she was wearing those damn shoes, wedges with a kitten heel and a bit of toe poking through the front. There was a simple black dress that hugged her curves and a long-sleeved button-up shirt. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up, it had light blue vertical lines, and it was most certainly his. Her hair was knotted in a bun, chestnut strands smooth and glossy. She turned slightly so he could see her face. She did not make eye contact with any of them. He nearly cried out.

Arthur assumed she was a projection. It would make sense, after all. Cobb always bringing Mal into his dreams, ruining the mission, letting her in when he felt weak and vulnerable. Arthur had lost a lot of blood, he was desperate and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, so it made sense for him to bring in the most comforting thing he knew. He was scared. He was scared for Ariadne, the real one, in reality. By bringing in this projection, Arthur had endangered her. Fischer would discover her true identity and he would track her down—and it didn't matter that the woman standing in front of him was not real, only a projection of Arthur's desperate mind. Fischer would recognize her, surely, and would bring her here with the others, with them.

"Hello…there. Can I…help you?" Fischer began, his eyebrow raised. Jacob placed his arm protectively around the silver suitcase and the guards began to move in towards Ariadne. She glanced quickly at one who was reaching for his gun and tensed, but did not move away. Fischer cleared his throat, raised a finger, and the guards stopped, retreating a bit. "Now, there's no need for that boys. We'll just see what this young lady wants—I certainly haven't seen her before."

"Hello," Ariadne replied, in almost a whisper, low and deep. "My name is…Lillian…and I was sent here. To help you." At the sound of her voice, the other men recognized her and looked up. The moment of recognition was brief, as Cobb and Eames knew that any signs of familiarity with Adriadne would get her killed. They were all scared for her, except for Arthur who still believed she was a projection.

"And what would I need help with?" Fischer asked, slowly taking a few steps in her direction, taking in the line where the blue shirt met the black dress. Ariadne grew more confident, shifted her weight a little and started moving past the row of chairs. She looked around, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh, I don't know. A clean-up crew?" She glanced back at the men in the chairs, blood surrounding them like an island. Her voice cracked a little at the joke but Fischer didn't notice. He gave a hearty laugh and sauntered toward her so there were only a few feet between them.

"Lillian, was it?" Ariadne nodded. "Ah, Lillian…this building is no place for a lady, as I'm sure you can see, so I really must ask you again—why are you here?" There was a smile on his lips but his eyes were cold, yet curious. She was not in his plan, but she could be incorporated if needed. Ariadne dragged her eyes away from the wall, took a small breath and looked him in the eye. She shivered.

It was a shiver that Arthur had seen many times before. It started from her shoulders and went up to the base of her neck, a barely perceptible twitch. It didn't take much to set it off—a slight breeze or a loud noise, usually Eames and Yusuf banging open the door after a night of gallivanting around. When she was tired and had been staring at her models and blueprints and she kept erasing the same line over and over again. When the dream became a little too real and waking up wasn't enough of a gauge for reality. Ariadne would shiver and maybe pull at her scarf and Arthur might say something or he might not. If he was at his desk he would just look at her and frown a little. If he was looking at the blue prints with her, he might put a hand on the small of her back that she would lean into or offer to get her a cup of coffee. In those moments, the one thing he really wanted to do was draw her into a comforting, enveloping hug and let the heat of his arms and chest smooth out all of the little shivers in her life. But he never did.

Seeing that shiver, watching Ariadne shift and bite her lip and hesitate, Arthur knew she was real. She wasn't a projection. She had come to save him, and Cobb and the others, she was being a hero, a real team member. And Arthur felt sick, because with Ariadne here and him tied to the chair, no one could save her.

"I'm here…" Ariadne started, looking around the room again, attempting a coquettish smile. "I'm here, because you've been working far too hard, Robert." She smiled wider, closing the distance between them and softly fingering his tie. "You need a break. You're working yourself to death, and for goodness sakes," she paused, enunciating her words as if she was reciting them. "A dead horse can't run a race."

At the last phrase, Robert's eyes lit up in recognition and he gave a short huff of a laugh, his body relaxing. "Uncle Peter. I should have known… he sent you?" Ariadne nodded, breathing out a laugh, sidling closer to Fischer. "Ah, that dog…he would. You certainly are a nice distraction from…work." Fischer leaned in close to Ariadne, inhaling the soft curve of her shoulder. His fingers ghosted over her jawbone and Arthur strained against his ropes. Ariadne, however, was all business; coy and subtle. She walked away from Fischer down the line of chairs, her heels purposefully hitting the ground. None of the men were watching her except Arthur, and of this she was intensely aware.

"Your Uncle sent me to spice things up a little, you know? Jobs like this can get awfully boring. And maybe— " She jerked her head toward the men in the chairs, "I can give them a show too? Before you do…whatever you're going to do with them…" She trailed off, a forced smile on her face but fear shaded in her eyes.

Fischer paused a moment to completely take her in, all slim hips and blushing cheeks. Eames wheezed and lurched forward in his chair. Cobb kept his peripheral vision on Ariadne but glanced over to Yusuf, who was no longer breathing. Ariadne's version of distracting Fischer would only go over for so long, and they needed a plan. He tried to get his point man's attention, maybe they would be able to figure something out with their hands tied. But Arthur had removed himself from the situation. He could no longer feel the ropes tying his wrists, or his lip leaking blood, or his totem pressing against his thigh. It was her, it was all her. Everything she was doing, saying. The risks she was taking, the thing she was about to do to get them out, to get him out.

Jacob the extractor twitched slightly, fidgeting. He didn't like this. He had been far too excited to do this job, and now there was a road block. He didn't like this woman, he didn't trust her. He wanted to start the job, he wanted to slide the needle into the other extractor's veins and steal all of his secrets; secrets of the job, secrets from his life. Jacob had an ulterior motive, of course. He was well on his way to being the best extractor in the business, but needed to eliminate his competition first. He had no qualms accepting this job when Fischer came to him—the thought of bringing down the mighty Cobb excited and intoxicated him.

But this woman, this…girl…she did not belong in this situation. He had seen the shiver, even if Fischer hadn't and he knew not to trust her. He was about to clear his throat and hint this to Fischer, when the man turned and looked at him, a lazy question in his eyes.

"Do we have time? That is…I wouldn't want my guests to have their lives destroyed without a little fun first," Fischer asked Jacob. "After all, after what we dredge up on them, no woman will ever touch them again…" Fischer smirked. Jacob had a difficult time not rolling his eyes, but he maintained his composure and slowly lowered the suitcase. The sooner Fischer played out this ridiculous fantasy, the better.

"Good," Fischer stated simply and advanced on Ariadne, leering. If the tips of her hand hadn't extended to stop him as she took a startled step backward, Arthur would have broken his wrist trying to get to her.

"Wait," she said. "Wait…I…well, this is awfully embarrassing, but…" she looked around, the mask back on. "It would be nice if we could get some privacy…" Fischer looked around to the guards who stood like giants, clearly an overwhelming presence for this mysterious woman. He understood immediately, and shooed them away with a flick of his finger. One brought him an old, rickety wooden chair before he left, and placed it directly in front of the five broken men. Fischer adjusted it a bit, smirking at the men who would not meet his eyes, and motioned to Ariadne stand in the front of the room. "Let's see what Peter had in mind…" He said softly, lowering himself onto the chair, his legs parted.

Fischer looked down for a second, distracted by a bit of Cobb's blood that had gotten on his pant leg so he did not see the look of terror on Ariadne's face. She smoothed back her hair and straightened her shirt, pausing briefly on the top button, rubbing it nervously. The room was silent.

"Let's have some music, yes?" Fischer said suddenly, his head snapping back up. He clapped his hand once, and perhaps because they were in a dream or perhaps because his guards and men were well oiled machines, a slow, sultry song began. All of the men were looking at Ariadne now, but none of their expressions were readable and she did not take comfort in their eyes. Not even Arthur's. A low voice started singing and it reminded her of dirty, sweaty nights at a seedy bar in Paris, where everyone's eyes were filled with booze and lust.

Hangin' round downtown by myself

And I had so much time

Ariadne began to swing her hips slightly to the music, feeling ridiculous. She tried to smile, she tried to focus on the collar of Fischer's shirt.

To sit and think about myself

And then there she was

Saito lowered his eyes. She was a lady, after all. Eames didn't.

Like double cherry pie

Yeah there she was

Like disco superfly

Cobb felt his heart break and saw Phillipa in Ariadne's eyes. Arthur was all black and rage and desperation—he had stopped trying to break free but he was still straining. The music paused, Fischer smiled and stretched in anticipation, and Ariadne undid the top button of her shirt.

I smell sex and candy here

Who's that lounging in my chair

Who's that casting devious stares

In my direction

"Well this is going to be interesting," Fischer quipped, and Arthur shuddered.

Mama this surely is a dream