Disclaimer: None of this is mine, it belongs to Warner Bros and other creative outlets and people, I don't intend to profit from this in any way. I am just trying to curb my own writer's block.

Reviewers make my dreams come true- MajesticMoments: I couldn't start with the note right away, I needed some background and explanation for what her situation was. Alison's reaction is coming up. And yay for Micah! If you liked him, well... read on... ;) I LOVE novel-length reviews. Love love love em. thank you! iAreawesome: thanks for the comment! here you go! Guest: I'm glad you liked the therapy scene, that took a while to write/think through. A note regarding Arthur is below, thanks for the question! Knuckiducki: blah I'll try! Writer's block has me down... interesting theory though! theonlyreadhead: haha thank you! In. Blue. 85: Alison does seem pretty annoying, I understand. and I think you'll like this chapter... Paradoxical Fish: thanks! Glad you liked "To Lose My Life." I love this song too. :) gina1276: thanks for reviewing!

Guest asked when Arthur will enter the story. If I follow my outline, he'll turn up (physically) in chapter eight.

Chapter title from the song by the Decemberists.

And get ready to say hello to an old friend…!

Don't Carry It All

Sunday, May 12, 2013: New York City, New York: Ariadne's Apartment: Ariadne

Ariadne sat in her favorite patchwork chair, just under the window, staring outside at the pouring rain.

It was one of those terrible spring rain storms, the kind that both signaled winter's last furious breath and the coming sigh of relief that would be the sweet period of warm weather until the nasty humidity of a New York summer.

Ariadne loved New York in the rain. While many other cities tended to slow when the weather turned ugly, New York didn't. Taxis still speeded, subways still chugged, and pedestrians still ran and meandered and tourists took blurry, watery photographs.

On the other side of the apartment, Alison had the evening news on, listening to the anchor's chatter half-heartedly, most of her attention focused instead on the lasagna she was cooking for dinner. Every now and then, she would glance up at Ariadne, hurriedly looking away when Ariadne caught her worried stare.

The morning had been far from pleasant.

Ariadne had woken in a hospital bed, immediately blinded by the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. Alison, snoring lightly, was in the chair beside her bed, her face pressed against Ariadne's leg. When Ariadne tapped her cheek and woken her up, she'd squealed and tackled her in a hug.

After Ariadne had passed out the night before, Alison had panicked, calling 911 and trying to wake Ariadne using everything she could think of, from buckets of water to brutal slaps on the face with the back of a wooden spoon. When nothing worked, her anxiety had become paramount, to the point she'd also been treated at the hospital, given a sedative to calm her.

Of course, Alison didn't know about Ariadne's special sleeping pills.

So Alison couldn't tell the paramedics what Ariadne had actually taken. Instead, she'd gone through a list of possibilities, listing every known over-the-counter sleeping pill under the sun. She'd also braved calling Dr. Moroni to ask if he'd prescribed a sleeping drug for Ariadne. A stunned Dr. Moroni said he hadn't, and soon joined Alison at the hospital to see if he could be of any help.

Another thing Alison and the doctors didn't know was Ariadne's dream work, meaning they weren't looking for signs of an unnatural REM sleep that could suggest Ariadne was either trapped in a dream or on her way to limbo. And Dr. Moroni, who could only think of his disastrous appointment with Ariadne, was all but convinced she'd sent herself to a permanent limbo where she could live with her projection of Arthur.

So when Ariadne woke Alison to ask what time it was, it made sense for Alison to freak out and for the nurses to look pleased and Dr. Moroni to gasp sighs of relief when Alison called to tell him she was fine, and that she had, in fact, not dreamed at all.

Which tipped Dr. Moroni off that Ariadne had been using a black market sedative to sleep. Not wanting to get her in legal trouble, he'd only told Alison, warning her to keep an eye on Ariadne and to convince her to bring the pills to him, so he could determine how safe they were.

Sure enough, after they were sent home following hours of paperwork, Alison had demanded that Ariadne show her what she'd taken. A resigned and guilty Ariadne had revealed her secret stash, which Alison took great care to neatly place in their bathroom cabinet.

"Ariadne Grace Chopin, I swear to god, if you ever do anything like that to me again I will call your parents," Alison had then threatened, looking both tearful and pissed. "And then I'll kill you myself. You scared the hell out of me!"

"I'm sorry," Ariadne had apologized profusely. They had looked at each other, and then Alison collapsed in Ariadne's arms, sobbing.

And of course, there'd been the awkward moment when Alison had tried to ask Ariadne about the diamond ring on the necklace she wore. Ariadne was all but certain that Alison, and Dr. Moroni, knew who had given it to her, and so she hadn't said a word.

That led to Ariadne curled in the chair, and Alison cooking dinner.

"Okay," Alison called suddenly. "We're ready to eat."

Ariadne nodded, but didn't move from her spot. She listened as Alison turned the television off and served up the lasagna. There was a moment's pause and then Alison walked to Ariadne, shoving a plate of lasagna under her nose.

"Thanks," Ariadne mumbled, feebly. She still felt guilty and embarrassed; Alison was her best friend. She couldn't imagine how terrified she must've been when she'd thought Ariadne hadn't woken up after fainting.

She was surprised when Alison sat on the floor in front of her, her own plate of lasagna in her hands. She began to eat like this was a completely normal dining situation, and Ariadne followed her lead. Silence fell, until-

"Okay," Alison said, setting her fork and knife down and resting the plate on the carpet. "Out with it, Ariadne."

Ariadne swallowed. "Come again?"

Alison shot her a shrewd look, and then leapt to her feet. She stomped over to the counter and retrieved the envelope, holding it aloft and glaring at Ariadne.

Ariadne blushed. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that," Alison snapped. She marched back to Ariadne, opening the envelope as she went. She held up the photographs and waved them at Ariadne. "Who the fuck is this? And why does this… Nikolai Volkov think you want to help him? I mean," Alison tossed her blond hair back and tore the letter from the envelope, letting the photographs fall to the floor. Ariadne's eyes followed their descent. "'I am not sure your beloved can handle any more of my displeasure'; what does that mean? 'Your beloved', ha. You haven't loved anyone since-"

"Yes."

Alison stilled, looking at Ariadne in confusion. "What?"

"You're right," Ariadne whispered. "I haven't loved anyone since Arthur."

"Yeah…"

"Alison," Ariadne moaned. "Alison, that is Arthur." She nodded at the photographs on the floor, and the two of them stared at them for a minute.

"That's Arthur?" Alison repeated, shocked. "You mean to say… That this bloody, beaten, battered mess is your ridiculously attractive supposedly-dead boyfriend?"

"I know how it sounds-"

Alison snatched the photographs up, holding them to the light for a better view. "You're nuts, Ari. I met Arthur, I remember what he looks like, and this isn't him."

Ariadne sighed. "I know he looks different. But Alison… This Volkov guy, he's been doing who knows what to him, for who knows how long? As long as eighteen months, he could've been tortured, beaten-" She broke off, taking a shaky breath.

"I don't see it," Alison said firmly, lowering the photographs. "I think someone's messing with you. Besides, why would someone do that to Arthur? He was a really nice guy, and for a business lawyer he was unfairly handsome, but I mean, there really is no reason for anyone to hurt him! It's not like he was a… I don't know, a bad guy-"

"Fine," Ariadne hissed. She got up, ignoring Alison's protests, and strode to her room. Alison followed in her wake, trying to cajole her into returning to the living room, apologizing for upsetting her. Ariadne didn't stop until she'd reached her bed. She got on her knees, stretching her arm out.

"Ari, come on," Alison said beseechingly, the photographs and letter clenched in her hand. "Stand up so we can talk about this!"

She broke off when Ariadne pulled the shoebox out. Ariadne looked up at her.

Alison looked bewildered. "…Shoes?"

"No," Ariadne whispered. "Alison, I need to tell you something." She patted the space beside her and Alison sat, hesitant.

"Ari, I-" Her voice trailed away as Ariadne lifted the lid, revealing the contents. Moving mechanically, Ariadne pulled the photographs and began laying them on the carpet.

"Ari," Alison murmured. She'd reached into the box and was turning over one of Arthur's ties, a navy blue one, in her hands, her eyes wide. "Ari, what is all this?"

"This is all I have left," Ariadne said. "These are items and memories from my relationship with Arthur." She finished laying out the photos and sat back, studying them, as Alison reached into the box and pulled out the bottle of aftershave, holding it gingerly. "Alison, look at the pictures. Look at his eyes."

Alison studied the photos as Ariadne pulled the new Polaroids from Alison's hands, laying them at the front. Having known Arthur so intimately for so long, it'd taken Ariadne seconds to recognize his profile and features. But Alison had only met Arthur a handful of times, and only when he was immaculately dressed.

Alison gasped suddenly. She seized a photograph of Arthur and Ariadne, taken on New Year's Eve. They were sitting at a table littered with confetti, and while Ariadne was laughing, Arthur was more composed, still not into the swing of the celebration. Alison held up the photo, comparing it to the second Polaroid, the close up one.

"Good Lord," she whispered. "It's him."

Ariadne nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah. I know. He's alive."

He's alive.

But before Ariadne could relish in the moment, Alison spoke again.

"But, Ari… Why?" She asked, staring at her best friend. "Who is Volkov? What does he want with Arthur, and you?"

Ariadne sighed. "That's what I need to tell you. But remind me: what do you know about Arthur?"

Alison frowned. "He was seven years older than you. He was an American, like me, but he was from California. You met when you did that internship with Professor Miles' friend; Arthur was a friend of Professor Miles' friend, and he introduced you. Arthur was a lawyer for some corporation… I don't remember which… And he worked in Paris. He spoke French fluently. He didn't like talking about the past or his family. He was crazy in love with you."

"How did he die?"

"Ari, why-"

"Please, Alison, just answer the question: how did he die?"

Alison looked suspicious, but continued. "Well, you got another internship, but this one was in Los Angeles. And Arthur decided to come with you. And he was killed in a car accident…" She trailed off. "Which you weren't present for, and you never even got to see his body…"

"Alison," Ariadne murmured. "Arthur didn't die in a car accident."

"Well, clearly-"

"No, wait. What I mean is… There never was a car accident."

"What?"

Ariadne took a deep breath. "Everything you know about Arthur is true, except for his profession and how we met. Professor Miles introduced me to his son-in-law, Dominic Cobb. Cobb is an extractor. He extracts ideas and information from the subconscious, by entering dreams."

Alison's jaw dropped. "Dreams? Like… What?"

Ariadne jumped up and retrieved the PASIV from her closet. "This is called a PASIV. It uses a drug called somnacin, and when you're hooked up to it, you experience lucid dreaming. And if you're skilled enough, you can manipulate the dreams of others in what is called dream work, dream theft, etcetera. Cobb needed me to be the architect for the dream; that means that I designed the dream."

"I'm guessing Arthur wasn't Cobb's lawyer," Alison said dryly.

"Arthur was a point man," Ariadne said. "It basically means he runs the dream while Cobb extracts. Sometimes that means he has to take down projections, which are part of the subconscious and can be very dangerous." Ariadne sighed. "None of this is legal, by the way; that's why I never told you."

"I'm just… gosh," Alison murmured. She looked at the PASIV. "Can we do it now? Dream?"

Ariadne shook her head. "No. Well, you could. I can't."

"Why?"

"I only dream of Arthur," Ariadne whispered. "He always turns up in my dreams, my projection of him. Sometimes he's just like he was, other times he's… Deadly. None of it's good for my recovery, anyway."

"I can't believe you were living with a criminal," Alison chortled. There was a pause and she added, "Well, not just living, I guess. You were engaged to him."

Ariadne sighed. "I didn't know. I found the ring after he died. I didn't know he had it. And as for being a criminal," Ariadne said hurriedly. "It wasn't exactly like that. Arthur retired from dream work when he decided he wanted to be with me. It's a really dangerous business, you see. He wanted to protect me."

Alison frowned. "But you didn't retire, did you? That's why you were in Los Angeles, wasn't it?"

"Cobb and Arthur were really close friends," Ariadne said. "On the job where Arthur and I met, we made the heir to Fischer-Morrow energy decide to take down the company in a process known as inception."

"I kind of remember that," Alison said hesitantly. "Everyone was really surprised… Now I see why."

"Yeah," Ariadne said. "Well, this man called Browning who basically ran the company, was furious. He realized what had happened and he kidnapped Cobb's children in order to blackmail Cobb into reversing it."

"That's awful!"

"Yeah, it is. So Cobb went to Paris because he knew Arthur was in Paris. He didn't know we were together, and he wasn't planning on finding me, as a favor to Miles. But Arthur… He couldn't do the job. He was still wanted by many dangerous people around the world, and he'd been trying to lose the tails they had on him for a year. So Cobb told him that if he didn't agree to the job, he'd essentially give his girlfriend, me, to Cobol Energy, which desperately wanted Arthur himself… And so Arthur had to do the job. But we knew I was in too much danger to stay in Paris, so I agreed as well."

"Jesus," Alison mumbled. "Ari-"

"Hang on, I'm not done. The job was… difficult. A reverse-inception was pretty much unheard of. But we had to try, for Cobb's children, and well, Arthur was doing it for me, really. But he knew someone was going to die; Arthur's very smart… And so he… Well, he…"

Alison leaned forward as Ariadne began to cry, turning her head away from the photographs and mementos.

"Ari," Alison murmured. "He died for you, didn't he?"

"A-After the job," Ariadne choked, determined to finish the story. Alison needed to know… "We w-woke up and his h-hands… They were tied, h-he was t-trapped… But w-we got away and I t-thought we could m-make it, but t-they got him. They s-shot him, t-twice, and p-pushed him down an e-elevator…"

"That's why you hate elevators," Alison finished. "Oh, God, Ari, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"I know," Ariadne whispered. She wiped her eyes, disentangling herself from Alison's arms. "Alison, I miss him so much. And now… He's alive?"

"It appears so," Alison murmured, gently returning the photographs Ariadne couldn't bear to see to the shoebox, and tucking the tie in around them. "Oh, Ari… What are you going to do?"

Ariadne sighed, finally acknowledging the crumpled letter on the floor. "I don't know."

After dinner, Ariadne and Alison curled up on their living room couch, eating most of the cake from yesterday and watching re-runs of "Friends."

"I love being in Manhattan and watching this at the same time," Alison gushed. "It makes it so much more… attainable, you know?"

"What part of that would you like to attain?" Ariadne asked incredulously. "You have a great career, a caring boyfriend-"

"-A ridiculously wonderful best friend," Alison interjected.

Ariadne laughed. "Can't forget that."

"I wouldn't dare."

A knock at the door caused both women to stop laughing and exchange a bemused glance.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Alison asked.

Ariadne shook her head. "No…"

Alison suddenly blanched. "Oh my god. What if it's that Volkov guy? What do we do?"

"I doubt it's that Volkov guy," Ariadne said. But Alison's mention of the name caused Ariadne to wonder if it was possible that Arthur-but it couldn't be…

She stood up. "I'll look through the peephole."

"Be quiet! I'll turn the volume up to hide your footsteps."

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Real sneaky, Alison."

She shuffled over to the door, the automated laugh track blaring throughout the small space. At the door, Ariadne stood on her toes, placing her hands on either side of the door to balance herself as she looked through the hole.

A moment later she threw the door open.

On the threshold stood a tall young man with bright red hair and large blue eyes that were partially obscured by thin framed glasses. His face was covered in freckles, but he was smiling, somehow shy and not intimidating in the slightest, even in the classic black suit complete with dark red tie he was wearing.

"Hello, Ariadne," he said.

She beamed, her breath coming up short. "Micah."

And then she tackled him, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back just as strongly, laughing at her response to the sight of him.

"Micah!" Ariadne repeated with more force as it became apparent that Micah was actually there. "Oh Micah, how are you? It's so good to see you!"

She stepped back and pulled the door open all the way so Micah could walk inside. He wasn't carrying anything and entered hesitantly, hands in his pockets. Alison slowly rose from the couch, confusion evident on her features.

"Oh, Alison," Ariadne said quickly. "This is a good friend of mine, Micah Harper. Micah, this is my roommate and my best friend, Alison Fletcher."

"Hi," Alison called.

Micah nodded. "Hey."

"Come in, come in," Ariadne said, urging Micah to take a seat at the counter, which he did, looking around the apartment. "Would you like something to eat, or drink? Alison and I were having cake, it's very fresh, she made it yesterday. We have tea, milk, orange juice, water, I could make coffee-"

"Ariadne," Micah said firmly. "Take a breath."

Ariadne sighed, realizing how quickly she'd been speaking. "I'm sorry."

He smirked. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad to see you too, by the way."

She smiled. "Micah, what are you doing in New York?"

"Well, I just finished my second year at Harvard," Micah explained. "Still chugging away at that doctorate degree. And I got an internship at a research clinic for the next three months. Today was the welcome dinner in Tribeca, hence the monkey costume," he gestured to his suit and Ariadne chuckled. "And I had your address, I got it from Cobb-"

"You've talked to Cobb, then?"

Micah's smile faded. "I talk to all of them, Ariadne. Cobb, Yusuf, Eames. You're the only one who…"

He trailed off, and Ariadne filled in the rest of his sentence: You're the only one who won't.

He swallowed audibly. "How have you been, Ariadne?"

"I'm… surviving," she murmured. "Moving to New York has been good for me. I'm working at an architectural firm in the city which is wonderful, I absolutely love it."

"You don't…" Micah glanced around at Alison, and Ariadne quickly realized why.

"She knows everything now. I told her."

"I know about the dreams and the stealing and the needle pricks," Alison confirmed from the couch.

Micah blushed. "Oh, okay. Anyway, Ariadne: You don't go under at all?"

It was Ariadne's turn to blush. "I have… I mean, I try not to, but I still have the PASIV, I couldn't throw it away, not since it belonged to-" She broke off and Micah nodded seriously.

Ariadne swallowed. "How about you?"

"Nothing," Micah said softly. "But it's not like I've really had opportunity, you know? Well," he huffed suddenly. "Eames used to call me about once a week, trying to get me to take a job."

"You said no?"

He shook his head. "No. I was worried…" Micah looked down at his hands for a moment before raising his eyes. Ariadne was swept away by the deep sadness in them.

"You think about him?" She whispered.

"All the time," Micah murmured. "I swear, every day. Right after he… Right after the job, every dream I had included him. He was always there, just at the corner of my eye, but when I turned my head, he was gone. Professor Bristol has been, uh… giving me advice…"

"I'm seeing a therapist who specializes in dreams," Ariadne interjected. Micah relaxed.

"Yeah, alright then," he murmured. "Do you… Do you see him?"

"All the time," Ariadne parroted. "Awake, asleep, it doesn't matter…"

Micah nodded. "I miss him like hell. I didn't even know him very well, but I…" He sighed. "It's almost like I lost my brother."

"He loved you, Micah. I know he did."

Micah groaned. "God, Ariadne, I'm sorry. I must sound so pathetic; I mean, compared to what he meant to you…"

She shook her head. "Grief isn't measured, Micah. We both lost him."

"Well, I'm glad you're doing well enough anyway," Micah said. "With your job and New York and all." He paused and added, "The research clinic I'm interning at is part of the VA. I'm going to train with them so that when I get my Ph.D., I can counsel soldiers."

Ariadne was touched. "Micah…"

"It's for Seth, too," Micah said quietly. "He was a soldier, too. But I can't help… I want to do it because… Even though I couldn't save them, I can save others."

"He would be so proud of you," Ariadne murmured. Micah blinked hurriedly and picked at the countertop.

"Are you talking about Arthur?"

The question came from Alison, who'd joined them in the kitchen. She set her plate in the sink and faced them, crossing her arms over her chest.

"We were," Ariadne confirmed.

Alison bit her lip. "Did you show him the letter?"

Micah frowned. "What letter?"

"Alison-" Ariadne broke off as Alison seized the envelope from where they'd placed it on the counter and slid it to Micah. He carefully opened it, letting the Polaroids fall in front of him.

He gasped, his normally relaxed features distorting into an open-mouthed expression of shock.

"Ariadne," he gasped. "What the hell are these?"

"There's a letter, too," Alison said, nodding at the envelope. Micah raced to find it, unfolding and reading the note in seconds. When he looked at Ariadne again, his eyes were huge.

"He's alive?"

"It would appear so," Alison mumbled.

"When did you get these?" Micah demanded, returning to the photos.

Ariadne sighed. "Yesterday. They were in the mail. No return address…"

"Do you know Nikolai Volkov?"

"Never heard of him," Ariadne murmured.

Micah ran a hand through his hair. "I wonder if it's Cobol."

Ariadne stared. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, we all know they've wanted him for a while," Micah said calmly, ignoring Alison's sharp intake of breath. "Dead or alive. Did they ever have to pay for his body, or did they say anything about him…?"

"They never paid for his body," Ariadne said thoughtfully. "That's an idea, Micah."

Micah nodded. "Worth a Google search, I'd imagine." He couldn't take his eyes off the photos. "Holy shit, Ariadne. Arthur's alive. I mean, these are Polaroids. You can't digitally manipulate them! Well, I guess you probably could; but someone's gone to great lengths to make them as real as possible by taking Polaroids…" He sighed and took off his glasses, wiping them with his tie. "So, when are we leaving?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When are we leaving," Micah repeated. "We have to go to Chicago to get Cobb, of course; that's a pretty fast flight, maybe three hours? Eames will be tricky… I assume he's in London still? Unless he's working. We should figure that out first-"

"Micah," Ariadne interrupted. "You want to come with me?"

He stared at her. "Of course, Ariadne. I mean…" He shook his head, his expression enthused. "This is what we've been waiting for. We have a second chance to save Arthur!"

She looked at him, taking in his huge blue eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to be shaking. She knew how much he needed this. Ariadne could remember the way Micah cried after they'd watched Arthur fall, the way Micah had hugged him on the second level, the way his eyes shone when Arthur had praised him… Micah had always blamed himself for being unable to save Arthur.

She'd always blamed herself, too.

"Okay, Micah," Ariadne murmured. "Let's get our tickets to Chicago."

IT'S ON!

Review, please