DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.

Sorry! You guys are probably so sick of flashbacks, but I only have a few more planned, I swear. I do have a point in them.

Someone dropped a review by, saying that my interpritation of Ariadne was different than that of others. Most 'Ariadne's' either take the job quickly because they're hopelessly in love, or desperate. I have to admit, I did try and create a different character than the ones I normally use. I wanted this Ariadne to be almost reluctant to work again, because of the impact it would no doubt have on her. I also didn't want a full on Arthur crush. I tried to create it as more of a gradual attraction than a love-at-first-sight kind of deal. Sounds silly, but I really wanted this interpretation of Ariadne to be different.

Reviews make my day, so please, if you have a second, do feel free to drop one by.


The next morning, Ariadne woke up feeling simply awful. The lack of sleep from the night was certainly showing. She pulled the covers back and just managed to pull herself from the bed to catch a glance at her tired reflection in the mirror. Groaning, she forced herself into the bathroom and to the sink, where she splashed her face with cold water, in the hopes of kick-starting her body. She remembered the thoughts that had kept her awake during the night.

She had grown annoyed at herself. No less that a month ago, she was doing fine without them. On her way to forgetting the events of the Fischer job, and proud of it, too. She wasn't overly keen on the idea of being pulled back into the world of corporate espoinage. But of course, her weak, curious mind had taken over, and allowed her to give into the temptation that Arthur and Eames had offered her. Ariadne was all for choices, and she knew that she didn't have to take the job. But the idea that had once repulsed her to re-join, was the very thing that had managed to pull her back in. Dream creation.

So, she'd been up half the night, self-hating her own mind for giving in so freely. She wondered if the others knew she would give in.

Standing over the sink, she remembered she was expecting a visit from Arthur, and that she'd slept in long enough not to leave a chance for dawdling. So she hurried back into the bedroom, and changed in a daze. Throwing on a light grey jumper and her jeans, she topped it off with her favourite red scarf. A little bright, yes, but if she were to act properly around the Point Man today, she would need the confidence.


"Welcome back," she offered her welcome half-heartedly, knowing full well that the Point Man's demanding presence would throw her off. She was right. Seeing him was just as disorientating as it was the day before. Admittedly, that particular morning, he did seem a little...different. Un-Arthur. Of course, he was dressed as he normally did, black suit pants paired with matching blazer, light blue striped shirt and navy blue sweater. Her eye however, cast upon the lovely tie that was knotted around his neck. It could have been made from rare silk, and she couldn't help but wonder if she could find a scarf in that material. And of course, his hair was perfectly flawless, slicked back into it's usual style. However, she did catch the change as soon as she opened the door.

His eyes were lovely, deep pools of chocolate brown, always managing to catch her attention. Today however, there appeared to be some shadowed dark circles under his eyes. He offered her a small greeting smile, but it was weak. His shoulders slacked slightly. Not too much, but noticable enough to someone who had observed him constantly. He was tired, and perhaps a little frustrated. She didn't dare ask why he seemed bothered.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. Arthur entered her apartment once more, and she just managed to catch his appreciative nod. "Drink?"

"No, thank you." Walking in, he made his way to the living room, as if he knew the place by heart. She watched as he sat on the couch, his hands clasped together and placed lightly on his legs. She did nothing but remain a few feet away from him, leaning against the wall. Silence was shared between the two for a few moments, each person daring the other to speak.

"Arthur," Ariadne spoke, deciding to lead the conversation. "About your offer-"

"Remember, there's no reason why you can't not do the job. I would understand if you wanted us to find another Architect."

"That's not necessary," Ariadne replied, her voice laced with annoyance. "You knew just as well as I did that I would eventually say yes."

He raised an eyebrow, more out of amusment than anything else. "So, I take that as an acceptance?"

"Yes. I will work with you again." Taking a deep breath, Ariadne returned to her stony expression. "I have, however, one condition."

"I thought as much," he said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "What's the condition?"

"I cannot, and will not, be subjected to secrecy."

A light frown graced his features, creasing his forehead. "...I'm afraid I don't understand."

"...During the Fischer job, Cobb was hiding his thoughts in his subconcious. I was the only one who really understood the depth of the situation before we went under. That's why I insisted I come along for the job." She blinked, remembering the deadly look in Mal's eyes. The way the projection was so agressive. Cobb had buried all his memories and regrets into one meticulous dreamscape, completely unknown to the others. "That was probably the most dangerous thing I have ever done, and ever will do. Fischer almost died, as did Saito."

"Saito's injury was...my fault," Arthur pointed out, his voice fading at the end. Ariadne could sense the regret in his tone, the guilt he felt towards the simple mishap.

"But Fischer's wasn't. Cobb even got himself stabbed whilst we were in Limbo. Mal was his demon," she continued. "If I'm to work with any of you again, we have to be on the same level. No secrets. I won't agree to anything like that."

"You want to understand if anything will jepordise the job," he repeated.

She nodded. "Yes."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating the demand in his head. Ariadne watched in fascination, and could only imagine what thoughts were echoing through his organised mind. Finally, he looked up. "Ok. No secrets."

"Promise?"

Another small smile graced his features. "I promise you, no secrets." After a moment of silence was shared, Arthur rose from his seat, with a grace that Ariadne grew envious towards. "Well, now that's settled," he spoke clearly, pulling on his sleeves, flexing his elbows, revealing his cuffs. "I believe we have a flight to catch."

"Wait, flight?" she echoed. "Where are we going?"

"Where the employer is," Arthur answered simply. "Los Angeles. We don't want to miss our flight." He began walking towards the door, while all Ariadne could do was try to remain on both feet.

"Wait!" Responding to her protest, Arthur turned almost instantly. She quickly let her head fall once more, a light colour brushing her cheeks. "How did you know I would accept?"

He shrugged lightly. "I didn't. I guessed."


It wasn't long before they had both made their way to the airport, the cab ride and check-in both equally silent. Ariadne found it all to be rather rushed. One moment, she was in her apartment, just accepting the job, and now, she was waiting to fly to Los Angeles to meet their new employer. She didn't expect anything less from Arthur though, considering that it was his job to always be prepared. Besides, she didn't mind. She happened to feel a sense of pride as she walked through the airport with him. Catching glances from other various passengers. As they boarded the plane, Ariadne couldn't feel a slight sense of motion sickness as she took her window seat, remembering that the last flight she took was just after the Fischer job. Lonely. Confusing. Lost. However, this time, the Point Man sitting next to her was creating a safe feeling. A comfort that she didn't know could be created.

It was business class, of course. Arthur managed to blend in perfectly, finding more interest in the complimentary newspaper than anything else. Ariadne on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb, twiling her fingers on her lap, hoping that she wouldn't catch the attention of the stewardess, who was too pretty. Ariadne didn't want her near Arthur's eyes. She sunk into her seat and gazed out the window for a good half hour, a word never shared between the two. It was interesting, she pondered, how the two could go for hours without speaking, yet the awkwardness never seemed to come. It was always comfortable.

It was a while into the flight, before Arthur even spoke two words to her.

"Remember when I was training you?" he asked suddenly, drawing her from her tired daze. He turned to her and caught her eyes. "Well, there was one thing we never covered."

"That would be?"

"Defence. I never formally taught you how to defend yourself if necessary."

"I used a gun in Limbo," she pointed out.

"Yes, true. But there's a big difference between a lucky shot and knowing what you're doing. If you think you can just pick up a gun and aim, you're sorely mistaken. You could hurt yourself."

"Did Cobb teach you how to use a gun?"

"No. Mal did." He gave a dry chuckle, void of humour. "Which is ironic, considering her projection has shot me more than a few times."

"I'm sure you've been shot lots of times," she mused.

"Yes and no. If you seperate dream bullets from reality, I've actually only been shot once or twice."

"Does it hurt?" she asked. She had to keep from wincing at the thought of being shot.

Arthur shrugged in return, as keeping the converstation as casual as he could. "Depends. Kneecap, yes. Chest, yes, but not so much as the knee."

"Are you ever afraid?" She feels stupid asking, because really, how on earth could the Point Man be scared? She'd never seen so much as a blinking fear from the man.

He turned his head, gently, his eyes changing. He looked at her with a certain quietness, almost vulnerability that she'd never seen. It catches her off guard. "There are far more things to be afraid of than bullets, Ariadne," he said quietly, before turning his attention back in front of him.

She didn't have time to consider the hidden depth of his answer, before another question struck her over-analytical mind. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Depends on what you're asking," he replied, keeping his eyes on the seat in front.

"Why did you decide to become a Point Man? Why not a Forger, or an Architect? Or Extractor, for that matter, considering you obviously have the skills needed."

"I didn't choose the job, the job chose me. Just like totems."

"I chose my totem. I created it," she replied, silently celebrating the fact that she may have just won a conversation with the Point.

"You think you created it from scratch. Really, you've got something in the depths of your subconcious, something related to that bishop. The totem wouldn't work if it didn't mean something to you. A childhood memory, a treasured artifact, it's endless. The totem chooses the dreamer, just as the position chooses the worker."

She couldn't contain her curiousity for more than a few seconds. "So, if we all have a meaningful connection to our totems, then what's with the die?"

"Another time," he said simply, and the subject drops without question.

As the seat belt signs switched off, the first thing Ariadne noticed was Cobb rising from his seat and moving towards the bathroom. Most likely to check his totem, something that she noticed the Extractor constantly did. No less than a moment after he'd gone, Eames turned around and popped his head up from over his seat, offering a small grin to the Architect.

"Don't worry, Ariadne. Everything will be fine," he said gently.

The Forger had no idea how grateful Ariadne was for that statement. She'd spent the good half of the day worrying about her designs. Are they complex enough? Will the mazes ward off projections? Will Arthur find the paradox that she'd added last minute? The simple reassurance meant the world to her.

"Thanks Eames," she breathed. Noticing the calm look in his eyes, Ariadne felt a slight tinge of jealousy towards his calm exterior. "How come you aren't nervous?"

He smiled. "Well, for starters, you're a rookie, and your first job is inception. Nerves are expected of you."

"Gee, thanks," she muttered back.

"I've tried inception before. It just didn't stick. The pre-dream nerves are the worst part. Once you're under, you should feel more confident," Eames continued, his voice calming and casual to the young Architect's ears. She was borderline asking him about his previous inception, but changes her mind when she sees the Forger's eyes flicker to the alluding Point Man in the seat across the cabin.

"You alright, mate?" he asked.

Arthur turned his head swiftly towards the two, making Ariadne feel like two children caught in a bad act. His eyes were blank, with a slight aggitation towards the Forger. "Eames, we're not supposed to be conversing with each other. We're just a group of strangers, remember?"

Eames looked around the cabin, his eyes narrowed in fake suspicion before turning back to the Point and snorting. "Arthur...we're practically the only people in the cabin. Relax. I'm just trying to strike up a conversation with the Architect."

"And I'm just trying to make sure I do my job right. Cobb will personally castrate you if you do anything to jepordise this job," Arthur warned, his voice dangerous. It makes Ariadne sink down into her seat.

Eames waves him off, his hand flapping lightly. "I know, I know, I've heard it before. I'm just trying to keep her nerves down low."

"Ariadne doesn't have nerves. She'll do brilliantly." Arthur's words calmed Ariadne incredibly, and she quickly began to wonder if she could live up to the obvious faith the Point Man has placed in her work.

Eames frowned. "How come I don't get any praise like that?" he asked in mock insult. When he didn't recieve an answer, he turned and slumped back into his seat.

Ariadne decided that this was the perfect time to ask the question that had been burning at the back of her mind since check-in. "Arthur?"

"Hmm?" he responded, noncommittally.

"Why's Saito comingunder with us?"

He turned to her, his eyes catching hers for a fraction of a second before glancing down the aisle. "Control check. He just want's to make sure he's worth what he's paying us."

It's then that she see's Eames pop his head out from the side of his seat again. "What about you?" he asked, almost challenging. "Why are you coming under?"

She then realised that she couldn't reveal her real reason for coming down. She'd promised Cobb. But of course it would look odd, the student Architect who had no interest in going under until the last minute. She finally settles on possibly the lamest response she'd ever used. "...Control check."

Arthur gives a slight smirk, but drops the subject. Eames, however, narrows his eyes. "What have you possibly got to control?"

"Just to make sure the dreamscapes are according to design," she replies, trying to keep herself from rambling. "Besides, it couldn't hurt to have another pair of hands, could it? Defence and all that?"

This time, Eames makes his small laugh more known. "No offence, but you don't exactly seem like the type who's ever seen a gun before, let alone know how to use one."

"I could use one on you right now, Eames," she bites back, her annoyance growing.

"Well said," Arthur adds from his seat.

They all grow quiet as they spot the Extractor returning.

Had Eames have known that Ariadne had used a gun on Mal's projection, he may have thought a little differently.

It was strange. The last time she and Arthur were on a flight together, Arthur was worrying about plans, projections...anything in contribution to the job. Ariadne had also known exactly what was about to happen. Now, she was on a flight with no clue as to what would happen when they landed.

Suddenly, Arthur leaned over towards her. He became close, close enough to make her slightly uncomfortable in her ability to compose herself. He hovered by her ear, his warm breaths tingling down her spine. A welcomed warmth under the airplane cooling duct. "The employer is an old friend," Arthur says quietly, his voice low and deep, creating a strange feeling inside Ariadne's stomach. "I've known him since I was younger."

Swallowing, Ariadne tried to engage herself in the conversation. "Who is he?"

"Harvey Walton, CEO of Walton Industries."

"What's he doing getting involved with extraction?" Her curiousity was genuine. How was it that some of the world's most famous CEO's managed to tie themselves with illegal espoinage?

"I'm not completely certain on the details yet. This is why we're meeting him. All I know is that it's something to do with the seperation of his company."

"So it should be easy," She says. She hopes.

A small chuckle escapes the Point Man, again, sending tingles and shivers down her neck. "You should know by now, that nothing in this business is easy."

He then pulled away, his eyes quickly focusing on the seat in front of him, as if the previous conversation had never existed. Ariadne could do nothing but try and tear her attention back to the window, hoping that just once, the Point Man's statement might be wrong.