I wanted to finish this chapter and post it last night but I got majorly stumped on where I was going with the scene so I waited till this morning to see if I had any new ideas... And this is what I came up with :) Hope you like it and leave lots of reviews! I'll try and have Chapter 8 up by tomorrow night. Thanks for reading!

Arthur fell asleep with his head resting on top of Ariadne's and his arm wrapped around her back. Eames was also snoozing peacefully, stretched out across the two seats. She stared out the window aimlessly unable to sleep. Every time she found herself dozing off she would see those horrid ice blue eyes of her attacker. She shifted uncomfortably hoping not to wake Arthur. She picked up the hand draped around her waist and began to unconsciously draw circles with her thumbs around his knuckles. Arthur let out a content sigh and Ariadne looked up to realize he was actually awake.

"Do you think it'll work?" Ariadne couldn't stop thinking about the possible solution that the point man had proposed earlier.

She felt Arthur's chest heave and then he answered, "I don't wanna get my hopes up. But there's a good chance. We'll wait till you're ready."

An hour later after Arthur had fallen back asleep Ariadne let out a dramatic sigh. It was just part of her nature; she didn't mean to wake him up.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head and turned her gaze away from the dark sky outside to look up at him. Their connection from the hotel room that night was back. Arthur felt it stir inside of him and he wondered if Ariadne could sense it too. He thought back on the night when they confessed their numerous secrets to each other over that bottle of champagne. He knew so much more about her and she didn't even know a single thing about him.

"Ariadne, what do you think of me?" Arthur wondered sincerely.

"I barely remember you, Arthur."

Her words made Arthur flinch a little and Ariadne's face softened. "No, Arthur. I'm sorry. But what do you mean?"

"What do you think of me?" he repeated.

"I think that you care about me, a lot. And others. More than you let people believe. You're a perfectionist but when it comes to those you care about, you act on impulse. The infiltration on Cobol? There wasn't much thought to it, was there?"

The walls that Arthur put up all around him were completely see through to Ariadne. She could read people and she was damn good at reading him.

Saito's plane touched down in Paris at last on a sunny afternoon. All three of them stood up and stretched, sore from all the events of yesterday. Battered and bruised they walked off the jet.

"So where to now? Rest first and then meet back up in the morning?" Eames asked yawning. He cracked his back and threw his duffel over his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure," murmured Ariadne. They reached the curb and were able to hail two separate cabs.

"Bye, love. Rest up." Eames said giving her a quick hug.

Ariadne hugged him back naturally and got into the other cab with Arthur. Ariadne gave the cabbie her address and relaxed in the back seat.

"Is this the first time you're seeing my apartment?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"I can't even remember how I left it."

"Well I guess we'll just have to see."

They didn't say anything for the rest of the drive. The drive only took about twenty minutes before they pulled up in front of a picturesque apartment with the potted plants on the steps and a dark green door with a gold knocker.

Ariadne's muscle memory caused her to search underneath the door mat for the spare key. There was a large pile of mail that had gathered on the floor from where the mail man slipped it through her slot. She picked it up and thumbed through it warily, setting it back down on the entry table without reading anything further.

Arthur looked around absorbing everything about the apartment. He couldn't help but think that it was just so… Ariadne. There were papers and text books cluttering the kitchen table, scale models covering the coffee table in the living room, and memorabilia from her many trips sitting happily on the windowsill and mantle. There was a large wicker chair topped with a fluffy blue blanket next to the fireplace and a stack of books by its leg. Arthur paused and observed it for a while. A picture of Ariadne huddling there on rainy nights as she read some significant piece of literature with a cup of tea came to Arthur's mind and he smiled at the thought.

"We'll go down to the warehouse tomorrow. You have a desk there; looking at your work from the job might help you remember what you did."

Ariadne nodded in reply and paced around the apartment.

"Do you want something to eat? I could make something," Ariadne offered.

Arthur smiled, not at all surprised that Ariadne was a cook.

"I'll take that as a yes. You can just set your stuff in the bedroom."

Ariadne walked off to the kitchen and began checking her fridge and cupboards to see if she had any good ingredients to cook. Her fridge was half empty and Ariadne sheepishly shut it as she heard Arthur walk back into the room.

"Let's go shopping."

"Are you sure you don't want to just go out to eat? It's been a long day."

Ariadne shook her head, "No it's fine. If that's okay with you."

"I don't mind." Arthur stuck his arm out to Ariadne and they practically danced out the door.

Arthur let Ariadne do all the deciding on what to buy. He was more of a take-out guy who always happened to ruin any meals he tried to cook. They returned back at her apartment carrying two large brown paper bags full of ingredients.

They set the bags down on the kitchen table and Arthur started to lay out the ingredients as Ariadne pulled her hair back into a simple braid. She reached into her pantry and pulled out a silly pink and white checkered apron. Tiptoeing back over to Arthur, she slipped it over his head.

Arthur looked down at himself disapprovingly but laughed anyways, "What's this? Shouldn't the head chef be the one to wear it?"

"If I'm the head chef that makes you the assistant. I make the rules." Ariadne smirked.

Ariadne decided to follow the long time memorized chicken parmesan recipe that her mom taught her when she was just a young teen. Arthur tried to follow Ariadne's simple instructions the best he could but somehow he managed to slice his finger while using the grater to grate the onions. Ariadne couldn't stop giggling as she wrapped a dish cloth around his finger tightly. She leaned with her back against the counter holding Arthur's finger tightly in her hands. They stood close together; the fronts of their bodies aligning perfectly as if they were meant to be together. Ariadne's laughter descended quietly as she gazed into Arthur's eyes, a tiny smile making its way across his face. He began to lean forward and Ariadne could feel her heartbeat quicken. He brushed his lips across hers and was just about to finish the rest of the way when the oven timer beeped signaling that it was done preheating. The two jumped apart with nervous smiles on their faces. The moment was gone.

Arthur continued to do his little tasks that Ariadne gave him with an unnecessarily large bandage wrapped around his finger. Ariadne sidled over to the radio and flipped it on to some typical French opera music. She turned around to see Arthur grabbing a spoon, ready to use it as a microphone. He impressed her by mouthing the words along and using grand hand gestures. He pulled her close with one arm and unwound it quickly, spinning her gracefully in a circle. Ariadne undid her braid as she did so and her hair flew all around her face, spiraling outwards. Her cheeks were turning a rosy pink and Arthur looked at her in awe.

About an hour later the table was prepped, the meal was cooked, and Arthur and Ariadne had both changed into respective dinner clothes. As Ariadne finished up in the bedroom, Arthur rooted around in the paper bags for the one thing that he did choose at the store, a bottle of red wine. He searched the cupboards for some wine glasses and was finishing pouring the drinks when Ariadne walked out of the bedroom. She was dressed in a popping red dress that settled right above her knees with a v-neckline. Arthur couldn't help his eyes widening. She was beautiful.

He crossed the room to her in three simple strides and pulled her close. Ariadne smiled sheepishly.

"You look amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself." Ariadne reached up a hand and brushed it through the hair on the back of his head. Arthur frowned momentarily.

"What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat, "Nothing. I just—I've never been a fan of when people did that."

Ariadne snickered and smoothed the flyaways back down.

They sat down at the table and Ariadne observed Arthur as he took his first bite. She loved watching people try her cooking for the first time.

"Oh, that is delicious," he moaned, "Where did you learn this?"

Ariadne's smile faded away and she tucked a hair behind her ear nervously, "Um, my mother taught it to me."

"She must be a great cook."

"She was."

Arthur paused at Ariadne's use of past tense but didn't push it further.

"Arthur, tell me about us." Ariadne suggested.

Arthur patted his mouth with his napkin and looked at her sternly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Um, just. I don't know. How long have we been… ya know…"

"Just that one night at the hotel, before we were ambushed by Cobol the next day." he said reminiscent.

Ariadne nodded knowingly and went back to her chicken parmesan.

The rest of the night was practically a replica of their night in the hotel. Arthur didn't mind one bit. He was glad he was getting to relive it with her; he could listen to her talk all night.

At some point during their conversation Ariadne drifted off. Arthur watched her again and this time she looked at peace. Her sickness had subsided but Yusuf still had firm instructions to continue the treatment for the next couple days. Arthur lifted her up from the couch and she subconsciously snuggled closer to his chest. He lay her down on her bed and pulled the comforter over her.

"Good night, Ariadne," he said glancing at her one last time before he shut off the light.

Ariadne woke up screaming in the middle of the night frantically. She had broken out into a sweat and she struggled for her breath. Her scream dried out and suddenly she was coughing. She felt as if she was being suffocated.

There was the sound of light footsteps running towards her door and suddenly Arthur was standing in her doorway. He looked like any other normal person going to sleep dressed in an old gray t-shirt and red checkered pajama pants. His hair was slightly ruffled and if Ariadne wasn't so freaked out at the moment she probably would've found it sexy.

"Ariadne, are you okay?" Arthur asked. Deep concern was shown in the wrinkles on his forehead.

Ariadne shook her head and pulled the covers up close to her chest. Involuntarily, she started crying and before she knew it she was sobbing. Arthur huddled next to her on the bed and lay down with her in his arms. She gripped his shirt tight, soaking it with her tears.

"Nightmares?"

He felt Ariadne nod and suddenly she drew herself away.

"Oh, god. I need to change. This dress is not helping."

Ariadne was too shaken to care that Arthur watched her undress. Her pale skin glistened against the moonlight streaming in from the window. Her brown hair cascaded down her back. She turned her back to him and changed into an old high school tennis shirt that was much too big for her. She climbed back into bed, clinging to her safety. He was her security.

Arthur rubbed small circles on her back and hummed some cute show tune that made Ariadne smile through the tears briefly. Ariadne focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Arthur's chest and it acted almost as a metronome, hypnotizing her into falling asleep.