Neverlandspirit: Bittersweet, my fave. Thanks for reviewing! Bookwormgirl: Yay, thank yoU! He's really embracing the playful side of being a parent/guardian. He's doing more than just swiping his card and buying her presents like he did for Ender. Yeah that nightmare sucked. Lauraa-x: Yes! I thought it'd be sweet if he was like scared to death to let her go after it. Showing just must he actually cared vs. how much he'd previously shown. We'll see about Ari and Ender ;) Would you wait years for your estranged husband that you essentially left to find you? Maybe she'll see the change though, maybe Chloe is his saving grace. One of those is right! And we're about at the month mark. So she doesn't have much longer in the grand scheme of things. Coffeebean: Night out on the town, woot woot. Arthur in a suit and Chloe with a top hat…our dapper little Talescos. I know, I know, I'm sorry (sort of). My angst just flows so easily. Please be patient! I promise it will be SO WORTH IT. ThePinkArcher: No worries, friend =) yay for 'I love you's'! Well there are some happy memories in this chap, maybe that'll help!

Flora1832, ScarletDragon522, Pendragon6203 thank you guys for the favorites and follows!

Chapter 10: FOR NARNIA.

Cobb said he was meeting with Miles at the University to recruit a new architect and to make sure the warehouse was ready for a dreamshare lesson when he got back. So far Arthur set up a circle of lawn chairs, his desk and was now putting together the PASIV. When the door scraped open, he expected his blonde friend's shoes to be the ones scuffing through the building but when he turned it was just a short girl in a red jacket. He didn't lock the warehouse door, he guessed any curious Parisian could've walked in. Shielding the PASIV from view he tried to charm, "I'm sorry, are you lost?"

"I'm the new recruit," answered the woman as she surveyed the area. Her eyes examined the lawn chairs in suspicion for a second before she pointed behind her with her thumb, "Mr. Cobb told me to go ahead while he parked."

Now Arthur was never gifted at conversation, especially with strangers and female ones nonetheless. To him it was a valid question that held no offense. She was little more than half his size. "Aren't you a little young to be in college? I mean, are you legal?" It wasn't a jab. It was an honest inquiry. He certainly objected to Dom bringing in a bright-eyed kid fresh from high school into this line of work. She looked so innocent; it hardly seemed fair to corrupt her. Not to mention the liabilities that could come with it.

The new Architect deadpanned, "I'm more legal than your occupation." Her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed as she gave him a judgmental once over. "Aren't you a little young to be dressing like my grandfather? The '30's were a long time ago."

The Point sighed. Confrontation was never a good way to start a working relationship. He apologized, "I didn't mean it facetiously. Your height—"

"What. You've never seen a short person or something?" The first time she gave him that signature raise of her eyebrows, Arthur felt extremely hot from head to toe. Whether it was from embarrassment of their botched introduction and her shameless accusation or from a wave of attraction, he couldn't tell. "We're not an endangered species." Actually maybe he felt like he was being burned alive because of the fire in her eyes. She may have been short but her energy was larger than Paris. All he could do was stare at her in intrigue as Dom trudged in, teasing, "Ah, you're offended. Means you've met our Point Man. Throw a punch if you'd like, it's been a while since he's been giving the one, two by a woman." Cobb was of course speaking of Mal who frequently kicked Arthur's ass in Dom's subconscious.

Of course, Arthur took that as a literal, reality-based insinuation and clarified, "I've never been beaten up by a woman."

"Give it a minute," she chided. Dom sputtered to keep from guffawing at Arthur's dubious gape. "Damn, Arthur, what did you do?"

Her grin was amused, the twinkle in her eye, mischievous. And it drew the Point's interest towards her like a moth to flame. Or moth to a bug zapper; attraction to any woman much less that one was suicide. "Arthur?" she repeated.

He briefly wondered if moths knew they were flying to their death and just didn't care. Because for some reason, he was drawn to the new girl, he knew it and yet he really didn't care it was happening. Arthur blinked, "Yes. You find that amusing?"

The woman shrugged. Looked down with a smirk like she was hiding a secret and Arthur remembered thinking he'd do anything to figure that secret out. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he swore his brains were blown up as a result. "Pretentious name for a pretentious person," she said. Contrary to his initial greeting, Ariadne meant to be facetious as she held her hand out for him to shake, "Nice to meet you, Arthur."

He liked the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. It gave him that feeling of hot coffee running down your throat into your stomach. Cobb instructed the Architect to take seat on the lawn chair so they could begin their introductory lesson. Her hair swished when she bout-faced and strolled to join the extractor. She was not a vulnerable, tightlipped, damsel that's for sure. That was a woman who not only slayed her own dragons but was queen of them. Arthur threw an incredulous look at Dom who was already looking at him. Finding humor that even Arthur was subject to her sharp mind and biting words. "Might I ask what yours is?"

Casually, over her shoulder, she replied, "Ariadne."

"Ariadne," he repeated to himself. Finding he liked the way the syllables tickled and rolled off his tongue. Arthur smirked and traipsed her way as she was draping her jacket over the back of her chair, "I'll put the needle in for you."

As Arthur peeled and sliced the apples, Chloe cut the dough into the appropriate shape and size. The entire kitchen smelled like apple juice, Chloe could practically taste the fruit from smelling the air. They were making extras so not only could they have them for dinner but so Chloe could take some for her and Ms. Baublit's lunch the next day. The apples they picked filled two large brown paper bags like you'd get at the grocery. Perhaps they'd gotten carried away…because their collection was extensive. Per the recipe, they used the granny-smith apples for the frittatas because they contrasted with the gouda cheese the best. Per Chloe's request they juiced some of the golden delicious into a pitcher and cut up a gala apple each to snack on while they worked. "How did you and Ariadne meet? Was it love at first sight?" Chloe wasn't light on the subject matter for today's discussions. It'd gone from 'Why do people hurt pets and make them have to be on that sad tv commercial?' to 'what is martial law?' to this. The heaviest topic of all: Ariadne.

Arthur shrugged, "For me? Yes. For her?" He had to admit it was funny. Ironic even. "No. She hated me."

"What!?" The idea was horrifying to the child. Two married people not being in love with each other from the very very beginning. It was supposed to be all rainbows and hearts when married people first saw each other. I mean it was for herparents. Well—Chloe wasn't aware just how weird Arthur and Ariadne's beginning was. "That's like impossible. You probably don't really know."

Arthur dropped the next batch of slices into the bowl full and confessed, "The first two times we ever spoke, she chewed my head off. She intimidated me even though she was half my size and I was infatuated with her for it. See, your Aunt Ariadne is a firecracker. Her heart, her mind, everything about her is explosive. I knew the second she opened her mouth that if I got in her line of fire, I was done for. So I threw myself in her way." Ariadne always thought she had been the one to break Arthur down. That through a tedious process, she cracked his armor open and wormed her way in. That was true but it wasn't a process of it happening, it was a process of him showing it had. In actuality, it was Arthur who wore Ariadne down. He, through a tedious process, proved to Ariadne he wasn't an asshole—most of the time—and won her over. He had to convince her he wasn't as heartless or boring as everyone assumed he was. While they were dating, he didn't see it as her prying answers out of him and making him fall in love with her through shared secrets (like everyone else including Ariadne thought). He gave those to her willingly. He saw it as him trying to prove he was worthy of her. Prove that he could love her as fiercely as she deserved. Prove that if she gave him the chance, he could set her on fire too and they could blaze together.

Chloe asked, "Why did she chew your head off?"

He smirked, "Because I was a sourpuss," and held a slice of apple up to her face. The little girl bit off a chunk and then took the slice from him favorably, chiding flippantly, "That makes sense."

"Hey now," protested her falsely offended uncle who lightly pushed her head.

She giggled then peered closely at her dough, her eyes level with the counter. She was carefully measuring the size of her most recently cut dough-pocket compared to the first one he did as a guideline, "You wanna know what my mommy said she thought about my daddy when they first met?"

"What?"

"She said she thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen—" Chloe straightened back up and grabbed her cutting tool, "besides the frown. Does that run in our family?" Pairing two pockets together, she moved them further down the counter and pulled out another sheet of dough. When she plopped it on the counter, the flour made a dust cloud over her face and she coughed. Some of it got on Arthur's suit pants but he was going to take a few suits to the cleaners tomorrow so he didn't mind (just this once).

"Well, my father's like that too," reasoned the Point, tossing a spiral of peel into the sink. Chloe watched him do so and punched the air when it made it into the basin. The first few times he threw it, she made a big 'he shoots, he scores' deal out of it. Uncle Arthur was exceptionally consistent though. The peel made it every time so it wasn't much of a glorious and rare victory when it happened. She was used to him scoring so he just fist-pumped as a tribute to his long-running record. "It must," he decided as they both turned back to their jobs.

"Do I have it?" Chloe purposefully pushed the corners of her mouth down and made her eyes look as blank dead as possible. "Do I look like a grouch?" asked the girl (strangely hopeful) trying to keep her face in its contorted position as she talked so he could examine it.

All the man saw were patches of flour and an over exaggerated face. It was more loveable than it was bitter so he had to smile, "I don't think you could be grumpy if you tried."

The child huffed and scrunched her nose, pursed her lips, furrowed her eyebrows and brought her fists up, "How bout now?"

That time he had to guffaw. Even putting his knife down to pat her head, "Nope. Must skip the girls."

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"We're doing good on schedule. I'm giving you the afternoon off." Cobb said simply as he gathered the papers he needed from Arthur's printer and arranged them in a folder.

That didn't seem productive. You'd think they'd want to move along so as to get ahead of schedule. Arthur saved his work then turned his chair towards Dom, "Why?"

"So you can take Ariadne to dinner," replied his friend as if the answer was obvious from his first statement. He wasn't going to further explain it either. Dom put the folder under his arm and swiped his water bottle from the coaster with every intention of crossing the room and no intention of elaborating.

"Excuse me?" Arthur didn't let him get two steps.

For Arthur's sake ( because Ariadne was a few feet across the room and because Eames was even closer. Though he looked passed out in his chair, they never underestimated him. He would feign some snoring and then be able to recite the entire dialogue back to them when he miraculously woke up twelve seconds later), Dom leaned in and spoke as quietly as he could but where Arthur could still hear him. "In six years, I've never seen you so much as glance at a woman that way but you can't keep your eyes off her. You let her borrow pens and bring her coffee. You have feelings for her. Trust me; I'm doing you a favor. You're going to kick yourself in the ass every day for the rest of your life if you let our Architect slip through your fingers."

Arthur's stomach did a flip. Was it that noticeable? How embarrassing. He did his best to play it off even though he was looking her direction as he sneered and shook his head, "I'm too job oriented for a relationship right n—"

"Arthur." The man was suddenly eye to eye with his friend. Dom took the arms of Arthur's chair and swiveled them around towards him. He was getting all big-brother 'listen to me, you hard-head' on him. "Your career isn't going to make you laugh or make you breakfast or make love to—"

The Extractor never saw Arthur blush but the man turned one hundred and twenty shades of crimson in front of him as he reprimanded, "Dom." Cobb chuckled because he could see the symptoms through Arthur's rigorous struggle to hide them. As Arthur threw a cautionary glance at the Architect, Dom teased, "Or look good in nothing but your shirt—I think you'd find a new appreciation for wrinkled clothing—"

Again, Arthur's face heated up. His eyes darted back to Cobb's harshly as he grit, warning his friend to shut up, "DOM."

Standing, the blonde shrugged, "I'm just saying. Point-work can't love you back."

"It also can't wake up one morning and decide it doesn't love me anymore," grumbled the Point Man, picking at the edge of his desk. Dom could tell Arthur was fighting tooth and nail not to look at either him or Ariadne.

"If you're too chicken, fine but I'm giving her the afternoon off too. So if you stay the night, while you're here overachieving think about her falling in love with some guy she meets at the bar and tell yourself it could've been you but you ruined your chance because you wanted type stuff." When Cobb sat back down at his desk (after giving Ariadne the ok to leave), Arthur huffed and returned back to his research. He could hear the rustling of her papers being shoved into their drawers. The tinkle of her pens and pencils going back in the cup.

The zip of her bag was what did it. What made him close his laptop and saunter over to her as she was shrugging her sweater on, "Can I ask you something real quick?"

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"Will you tell me about it? Your first date?" Inquired the bright-eyed child as Arthur slid the pocket down to her. Similar to how they put together the ravioli's, they tag-teamed on the frittatas. He painted (her words, because he used what looked like a paintbrush) the inside with a mixture of butter and whisked eggs then lined the slices of apples inside (three to be exact) then slid it down. Chloe sprinkled the cheese (or stuffed in globs of it), closed them and lined them in the pan. "Or will it make you sad?"

Arthur hesitated. Inwardly cringed. But decided, "I can tell you a little about it. You want our technical first date or our actual first date?" He'd missed a small strip of peel on a particular slice of apple, so he grabbed his knife and corrected it.

"Is that a trick question?" She squinted, not at him but her pocket of dough. It was a particular small one and she was having a harder time sticking cheese in without ripping open the back. "If it has anything to do with the very first chronological time you took her out then I want to know about it. Very first." Deciding that what she'd put in it would just have to be enough, Chloe gave up and closed the pocket up. But not before she pointed her fork at the man, "Don't get all tricky and technical on me, Uncle Arthur."

"Chronological," he ran the brush along the tip of the bowl of wash to keep the excess from dripping onto the counter and create an unnecessary mess, "is a big word."

The little girl had to adjust the existing line of frittatas in the pan to make room for one more in the row. She wanted rows of seven instead of six she randomly decided. "Number one, I'm in advanced English. And number two, I'm a Talesco."

Arthur joked, sliding another down, "Ever thought about going into law?" The way she worded her terms to him about the story covered all the bases. And she made sure to construct her phrasing in a way he couldn't justifiably worm out of.

"I was vice class president last term," she proudly stated, mouth full of cheese.

That was politics…not law…but he supposed it were close enough not to mention that to her. She seemed proud about being on SGA. He was actually surprised she wasn't a title higher which is why he asked, "Not president?"

"I respectfully declined," sighed the child. Arthur couldn't keep from silently snickering—the things that came out of Chloe's mouth never ceased to both amaze and entertain him. "I didn't want to juggle that responsibility and all my dance rehearsals and tae kwon do classes. It wouldn't have been fair to anyone to spread myself so thin."

"You sound like such a little grown up."

"And you sound like you're stalling," melodically chimed the 'little grown up'.

"Ok, ok," he dropped the brush into the bowl and chose his three apple slices to line inside.

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They met in the hotel lobby and Arthur drove them by means of black Cadillac to the fanciest restaurant in Dublin he could pay his way into on short notice—and that was the fanciest restaurant in Dublin. They got a table right next to the big windows that look out onto the city—something that cost him extra. He remembered what Ariadne wore to a tee. White dress, black dots, peachy-orange sash tied in front. The skirt was full but pleated and it was sleeveless with a small v at the neck. With her hair more strategically and carefully curled into larger spirals than normal she looked very classic and vintage. Essentially Ariadne. She apologized for not having anything fancier but he assured her it was suited well for where they were headed. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs. The evening started off well…it just went downhill pretty fast.

"To drink?" the waiter asked after they'd settled into their seats and draped the napkins over their laps. Now, Arthur knew what Ariadne liked through a combination of observing her choices on group outings and through extensive reconnaissance research (so he'd know what kind of restaurant and food she'd prefer). He thought it was charming that he ordered for the both of them, "Merlot for me and Pinot Griggio for the lady. You can leave the bottles with us in an ice bucket." Arthur thought it showed that he paid attention to her and her likes and dislikes. He grazed his eyes over the menu, he didn't need to actually look through it. They'd briefly talked about the food on the way there; he was a regular (another reason he was able to pay his way in without reservation) so he made some recommendations and took note of which she sounded most interested in. "It's a nice building isn't it?" he pointed out, physically pointing at the ceilings.

Ariadne nodded politely, taking a break from skimming the menu to scan her surroundings, "I like the style. Modern lines meet traditional décor."

"Here we are." Their waiter appeared with the requested ice bucket, bottles, and glasses of wine. Altering the way his napkin hung over his forearm he asked, "Will we need a few more minutes to look at the menu?"

Arthur completely missed Ariadne opening her mouth to give input—he answered for the both of them. "No, we're ready. We'll both have the Gorgonzola tri-tip." That was the one she said sounded good in the car, right? "Medium rare for me, medium well for her." Again, he made these choices based on information he gathered about her consumption tendencies thinking it would make an impression on her. And it did but probably not the one he was going for. "Caesar salad to start for her and House for me with the raspberry vinaigrette. And—" On top of it all, he pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his breast pocket and handed it to the man between his index and middle fingers. A smug look on his face, "the sooner you can have those out for us…" and wink at Ariadne.

The only way Ariadne could think to respond was to go with it, plaster a gracious smile on for the waiter and hand him her menu. "So how's work," he swished around the liquid in his glass and sipped on it while Ariadne idly ran her finger along the rim of hers. "Good," nodded the woman. "I mean, you're there so you know what it's like…"

"Speaking of which," he sat up and clasped his hands in front of him on the table, "I had a quick idea for the first level." This was Arthur's next mistake. Work was the most common ground they had, that was how he roped her into longer conversations at the warehouse so he thought why not start a dialogue with it at the restaurant. Get her engaged in their discussion. "Here," the man pulled out a paper napkin and pen from the same pocket he pulled the waiter's bribe out of and began to draw a diagram on it in the middle of the table, "If this was the upper level and fire escape…what if we lined this with trap doors?"

Naturally, Ariadne hopped right into Architect mode to analyze his proposal and make it work. She thought he probably just wanted to talk about it before he forgot it. So she took the pen and marked on top of his drawing, "Well we couldn't do that with the parapets there but I could add some on this side near the mezzanine."

"Yeah, I think that would be best," he suggested then pushed the napkin closer to her. So she could put it in her wallet and have it for reference, "It'd provide extra cover and we need all we can get."

She did as he expected—tucking it away in her clutch, "Ok, I'll add it." Ariadne tried to bring the date back around into an atmosphere that felt like an actual date. She really did. She tucked some hair behind her ear (equal parts nervous and coy) "So um—" but the woman was interrupted by the waiter dropping off their salads, "—Oh, that was fast." Behind them there were murmured complaints that they'd been there a shorter time than other patrons and already had their food which most-definitely made Ariadne feel self-conscious. "They were already made," stammered the waiter to cover up the fact that he most likely gave someone else's order to them, "Uh—fresh, I can assure you Mr. De Marko." Arthur didn't realize it in the moment but Ariadne definitely wanted to slide down into her seat and hide from all the glares they were getting. That's probably why he was smiling, thanking the waiter, and ignorantly pouring dressing like an idiot.

Before they'd even finished their salads, their dinner was ready to go. (Probably two more plates that belonged to someone else). While they didn't have to wait an obscene amount of time to be fed, it also made their date feel rushed. It gave them little time to talk and flirt between courses because there was no in-between. They could've leisurely ate and talked during their main course but the Point Man royally screwed up again and had the waiter bring the chef out for a meet and greet. In his defense, he thought the fact that he knew the chef and they could have a private sort of interview would impress Ariadne and he so, so, wanted to impress her. Arthur had done most of the back and forth with the chef so he was still eating after the man returned to his duties. Ariadne however was finished and sat watching him and picking at her nails. The waiter checked on them yet again (he was so attendant because of Arthur's generous tip, they rarely had time alone). "The chef would like to bring out complimentary desserts, is there one you'd prefer?"

Ariadne's eyes slid to Arthur. Waiting for his answer since he clearly was the only one with a say in what they ate. "Anything chocolate," he smiled. He didn't even at look at Ariadne…he just—God, he was bad at dating. "What sort of pastries do you hav—"

"Tell the chef, thank you very much. I appreciate the gesture but we won't be needing dessert," Ariadne finally had enough and spoke up. It wasn't rude or facetious but it wasn't completely genuine. It was clipped. "We're stuffed from the spectacular first two courses. Could you bring the bill please?" The waiter's face fell slightly because he understood well before Arthur that Ariadne had not had a pleasurable time. He scurried off to fetch the ticket which left Ariadne to down the rest of her glass and look at a puzzled Arthur. "I'm gonna go to the restroom. I'll be right back," her tightlipped smile was reminiscent of the one she gave Eames when she was sick of him calling her angel-face and babycakes. Most of the time she was fine with it but sometimes when she was extremely stressed she felt the pet names were patronizing. Preceding her exit to the restroom, she pulled a hundred out of her wallet and dropped it in front of Arthur, "That should cover my half."

Only then did Arthur look back and think—he was in deep shit.

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"Wow," was plainly drug out by Chloe, sitting on a stool in front of the oven. Chin in hands, watching the frittatas cook through the small oven window. "I love you, Uncle Arthur, but you're not very romantic…"

"Not at first, I wasn't. But I really am now," The Point Man was chopping up lettuce for a salad to go with dinner. On the counter next to the salad bowl sat freshly washed tomatoes, cucumbers, container of bleu cheese and a jar of olives waiting to be added to the mix. Chloe picked all the extra ingredients out but Arthur didn't think it was a bad combination. "Besides, what do you know about romance? You're eight."

"And a half." Chloe emphasized over her shoulder. She sighed when she turned back to the oven. See, she'd been counting down the minutes and it'd only been eight out of thirty. Watching the dough slowwwwly rise was almost as lackluster as Uncle Arthur's vague retelling. "If I'm falling asleep hearing about it, I know she was falling asleep during it. No offense."

Arthur grimaced and clicked his tongue because hey, the kid was right. "None taken."

"When did she start to love you? When did you get exciting?" Chloe got up and laid stomach down on the stool, her arms and legs touching the floor, her head hanging down, "Get to the good part."

"Love happens over a longer period of time than one night," the man made sure to educate her on that fact. The first tomato was rolled onto his cutting board to be sliced and diced, "But I think maybe she started to really like me when I bought her a cheeseburger."

For no other reason than to keep herself entertained, Chloe kicked her legs, rotated her arms and balanced on her stomach on the stool. Pretending to swim. "A cheeseburger would be the way to my heart too." If Arthur had looked back and seen her he would've cracked up—then corrected her on the proper mechanics of a forward stroke.

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Arthur instantaneously fished out his cell and rung up the Extractor. As soon as the line picked up, he rushed, "Dom help. She's not enjoying herself. I don't know what to do."

He heard the squeak of Dom's chair and papers shuffling and realized Cobb must've still been working at the warehouse. "Well, relay what you've done real quick."

So Arthur—in as much detail as he could get into in a short period of time—described how the dinner had gone so far. Every look, every word, every minute motion he could cram in while cautiously watching the direction of the bathroom. "You didn't," groaned his friend, "Arthur, tell me you're kidding about all this."

"Why?" Had it really been that horrible? He followed the online guidelines for wooing a female without fault. Arthur stared in horror at her empty seat while Dom broke the news to him in a less than gentle manner. "Because that sounds like a business dinner not a date. She not only asked for the check early but paid for half of it to get out faster…What the hell is wrong with you? Unless you're trying to get Ariadne uninterested, you're doing it wrong. Sounds like you've talked to the chef more than each other and—ordering for her? It's Ariadne. Have you met the woman? She likes to talk over men not be muted by them—"

"Oh God, I'm screwed," The Point Man face-palmed and ignored the waiter as he brought the bill and topped off their waters, "What do I do? How do I fix it?"

"Think about her. Don't worry about what you've read that women like or what the internet says a perfect date is…that won't work with Ariadne, she's one of a kind. Go with the flow. Flirt."

"She's coming back," he whispered and hung up without thanks or goodbye.

Ariadne begrudgingly let Arthur give her cash back and toyed on her phone while waiting for him to finish up and bid adieu to his (many) friends at the restaurant—

"Uncle Arthur, you're killing me here…" the child now laid on the floor in front of the oven. Her two oven-mitted hands serving as a pillow, her foot drawing figure eights in the air. "When are you gonna make up for this disaster?"

There was a scrape from his knife pushing the cucumbers off the cutting board and into the bowl, "I'm getting there."

Chloe switched feet as her right one was falling asleep, "You sure are taking the long way around."

"You wanted every detail," he reminded melodically, teasing her. He wasn't giving her very many actually. He vaguely outlined their conversations. Arthur refrained from most romantic detail too because to go into it with Chloe was sort of weird. He kept it generic. Things like 'I gazed into her eyes, brushed her cheek and whispered' he opted to describe to Chloe as: 'I smiled and apologized.' "Anyways. We walked outside to the valet…"

It was after Arthur gave the ticket to the valet to pull his car around and they were left alone (Practically. The stragglers in and out didn't count) that Arthur turned into her and asked sheepishly, "Can we start over?" Ariadne looked up from her cell, curiously, and then dropped it into her clutch with her eyebrows asking the questions. Arthur pulled his restless hands out of his pocket and gestured to relieve tension. "I've been so concentrated on impressing you with clichés and grandeur that I've been a jackass. I've been going about this like I'm taking a test instead of," and he realized he was doing exactly what he was apologizing for. They were on a date. Why was he standing a foot away? Why was he using his diplomatic Point Man voice and moving his hands about as if demonstrating a visual aid? Taking quick measures to rectify it, Arthur stepped closer, lowered his chin and his voice and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "instead of being romantic."

Already, there was a shift. Already, he was gaining his ground back. Ariadne's cheeks flushed a delicious pink and her eyes fluttered to the ground, shying away from his smoldering gaze. Arthur found he was good at this…this tender stuff. Using the hand that tucked her hair, Arthur caressed her jaw to her chin and lifted it to make her look at him again. He whispered, "I'm sorry. I know I've done everything all wrong."

First, she bit her lip. Next, she shrugged and brushed it off, "It's ok."

"No, it's not. I really—" The valet could've taken another minute…but Arthur's car slid in front of them. He traded the keys for the tip then rushed to get the door before she opened it herself. "I really like you and I really want you to like me."

Ariadne turned around with face full of amusement which only slightly faltered when she realized how close Arthur was and that his arms were—in essence—encircling her by pressing on the hood of the car on either side of her. "I do," confessed the woman. "Why do you think I sat through that god awful dinner for two hours? Anyone else, I would've faked getting sick or crawled out the bathroom window." Arthur failed in camouflaging the breath he sucked in when she fixed the fold of his lapel, "I was hoping you'd turn it around."

A car pulled up behind them and forced the two to get into the car. As Arthur shifted gears and pulled off he asked, "Can I have another chance?"

"What do you have in mind?" she punctuated with the click of her seatbelt—

Both relieved they'd finally reached the end and excited that the story ultimately ended up happy, Chloe enthusiastically cut in, "And then you bought her the cheeseburger?" That's really the event she was anticipating since he started.

Arthur pulled the frittatas from the oven and set the pan on a rack to cool, "Then I bought her the cheeseburger and we ate them and talked in a park."

Chloe got two forks while Arthur got out two plates and glasses. "And she fell in love with you."

"Started to," he corrected, "maybe."

Watching him put salad onto her plate as she held it, the little girl smiled slyly, pushing, "Did you kiss? On the lips?"

Arthur kept it short while forking a couple frittatas onto her plate next to the greens, "Yes." It felt more and more uncomfortable like he was back in the warehouse being interrogated during one of Eames' questionnaires.

"Oooooooooooooh," she squealed and skipped to the table, "She loved you!"

"Ok, ok," he good-humoredly changed subjects. Maybe Chloe didn't realize she'd used the past tense but it stuck out like a sore thumb to him. Especially after his nightmare the night before. "Let's talk about what we want to do tomorrow."

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Ariadne picked the pickle chips off her cheeseburger and popped them in, "What do you mean you've never had a rebellious period? Everyone has one." They (mostly Ariadne) were using his jacket to lay on out in the grass at a park. He'd finished his burger and fries already and was lying on his back. Ariadne was working on her bag of food, lying on her stomach, looking down at him next to her with her feet kicking.

The closest thing Arthur could relate with was: "Junior year I tried to slack and get an A minus—"

"A-minus was slacking?" the girl teased with her shoulder and a smirk.

"But in the end, I couldn't do it." He crossed his arms over his stomach, "It was torturing me more than it was going to torture my parents so…" using the trailing off of his sentence, the man segued, "well, what about you, Ms. Bourgeois? What'd you do? Steal motorcycles, smoke," he gently tugged on her tresses, "dye your hair purple?"

Ariadne took a bite and spoke while chewing, "My hair was blue, thank you."

Arthur wasn't expecting that. He sat up on his elbows, "What?"

"Only for like two months. It was a dare." Peeling her burger wrapper down corner by corner, "My family was more laid back than most. It was hard to find something to make them mad with."

Laughing the Point Man sarcastically agreed, "Sure," dragging the word out.

"Ok…my mom was a vegetarian and she sort of raised me to eat the same." Arthur looked pointedly at the food in her hand which garnered a bop on the head with the bottom of her fist. "So when I was like fifteen and wanted to make her mad I snuck out and ate meat. My boyfriend would be pick me up at like 2 am and drive me through McDonalds," at his desperate attempt to silently snicker without detection (she was look at him, she could see his face!) Ariadne laughed and swore, "I'm not kidding! Oh that was another thing, I dated—"

Arthur plucked the burger from her hand ("HEY NOW, sir.") as he spouted a list of guesses with eyebrows that waggled and grin that looked grossly like Eames. "A guitar player. Skater boy, drug dealer—"

"No." The woman glared at him. Or rather the hand holding her cheeseburger. "Principal's son-slash-quarter back."

His face twisted in confusion, "That's not bad."

"Of our rival school," she added, twirling two fries in the air. If he wouldn't give her last burger back, she'd occupy herself with the last of her greasy potato sticks. "Yeah. Our town was hardcore about their high school football teams…" the fries were tucked beneath her fingers like a cigarette and waved around theatrically, "it was a very bohemian, Romeo and Juliet type thing. I'm French, it was totally melodramatic." They popped into her mouth shortly after completion of her sentence.

"Romeo and Juliet…" Arthur rolled to his side, "then what does that make us?"

Ariadne thought she could take advantage of the position and snatch her burger back but Arthur's quick reflexes held it out of her reach. She huffed, "R2D2 and—" out of nowhere his empty fry carton was chucked at her face. "Dorothy and the Tin Man?"

He scoffed jokingly, "I buy you five cheeseburgers and you call me heartless?"

"You're holding one hostage," she practically whined and pointed at the hostage in question. "And the tin man had a heart all along…" perhaps if she batted her eyelashes, he'd give in. To no avail. Arthur hid it behind his back so she pouted, "I don't know. Arthur and Guinivere…?"

"Guinivere cheats on him with Lancelot!"

"I've been meaning to tell you…when I went to the bathroom at the restaurant," biting her lip, she fixed him with a sultry-look and taunt, "Me and Eames—"

"That's not funny!" he poked her side, "Don't ever," then rolled her over so he could pin her below him. "Come on, who are we like?" His voice's octave unintentionally dropped to a husky level as awareness kicked in and Arthur could feel her stomach rising and falling against his with each breath. He fought back the urge to press harder into her, instead appeasing himself and braving a brush of her shoulder with his thumb.

She breathed, "I don't know." The aura around them sobered up substantially as soon as they realized how close their faces were, that they were essentially breathing each other's air.

"Mal and Cobb?" was the Point's suggestion. His worst fear all of a sudden transformed into his greatest dream. In a way, he wanted to be like them with Ariadne. He wanted to share the language of lovers, wanted that glassy look in her eyes, wanted to be tortured by her touch.

Right away, though, Ariadne shook her head adamantly, "I'm not like her."

"Who said you would be Mal?" The shiver he felt her try to camouflage as he tucked a hair behind her ear (for the second glorious time that night) "I'd be the one blindly following anywhere you led. It'd be easy to get lost in you."

Because the onslaught of intimacy was such a contrast to the distances Arthur struggled to keep, Ariadne felt the need to make things lighter. If for nothing else but so she wouldn't combust from the butterflies his intense gaze gave her, "Great. So I get the guilt."

"You get to stay alive. With our two children."

Ariadne laughed, "Two children? We're moving incredibly fast there, aren't we?"

Arthur shrugged, "Have to make up for lost time; we wasted a year and a half skirting around the bush with stolen glances."

He didn't miss her flickering glance at his lips or the sly upturn of hers, "And tricky kisses."

"And offering to hook you to the PASIV just for an excuse to touch you," the soft patch on the inside of her wrist got a fleeting caress. Arthur was getting bolder. Which he guessed came with the territory of falling under her spell.

Squinting, the Architect confessed, "I don't want to be like them…"

"No, you're right. Neither do I." The forgotten cheeseburger in the hand by one of her shoulders was held in front of her mouth so she could take a bite. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what our story is."

Ariadne hummed happily as she chewed. "What about…" taking her beloved burger back in one hand and making the hair on the back of Arthur's neck stand up by cupping his face with her other, she joked, "Optimus Prime and—"

"You're insufferable," Arthur rolled off of her to the tune of her roaring laughter.

Xxxxxxx

"That's enough—that's enough!" Arthur panicked over the rush of the faucet, hands outstretched to take the bottle of dish soap away from the child. "You only need a drop or two."

Chloe gave the bottle one last squeeze then placed it back in its rightful spot, squealing gleefully, "I know but I wanted more bubbles!" They observed the tower of suds rise from the pot (and pan) with polar opposite attitudes about it. Arthur watched on with a grimace; he was nearly sick to his stomach about the mess that would ensue. He pictured the dirty dish water overflowing onto the counters and floor, predicted he and his niece would be slipping and sliding and breaking bones soon. Chloe watched on with a grin; she imagined all the suds breaking apart and floating into the air, falling like snow. (She hadn't thought about the water.)

Before the soapy water spilled out of the pot (the bubbles were already multiplying and foaming in the bottom of the sink and creating a mountain at the top of the pot almost like it was boiling over), Arthur cut the water off. "Aw…" Chloe muttered but didn't comment otherwise—that would be pushing it.

"That's more soap than necessary." The pot felt ten tons heavier filled with water when Arthur heaved it upwards to pour some of it out. It gurgled down the drain on one side of the sink. The other side groaned like it was going to burp up the excess. To Chloe it sounded like the wonh wonh wonh of a trombone sucking the fun out of everything. "Come on, let's leave them to soak." Arthur took the cloth he'd cleaned the counters with and did one final run over the granite around the sink. He slung it on his shoulder, intending to throw it in the laundry closet basket as he passed by.

The stool screeched along the floor behind him and then there was a loud, "Arthur Nicholas Talesco." It was Chloe's voice just forced into a lower key (that she could barely hold) and struggling to sound gruff and manly. With raised eyebrows, Arthur slowly pivoted to see what shenanigan she was pulling now. He sputtered a laugh when he saw her. Bubbles on her chin, jaw and above her lip. A pale and sudsy goatee. Chloe was standing with straight rigid posture on top of the stool, hands folded behind her back. "Did I give you express permission to leave the kitchen?"

"No?"

"That's "Sir, no, Sir" to you," she pointed harshly, "In the Talesco house we have very strict rules for manners."

Oh, now Arthur got it. How on earth didn't he get it before? It was too clear a spitting image now. Chloe was imitating his father (her grandfather). Retired military, hardnosed, general extraordinaire. The Point clicked his feet together and saluted her, "My apologies. Sir, Dad, Sir."

Chloe crossed her arms and ordered, "Drop and give me twenty, Soldier."

"How about…" he slowly walked to her "I just give you…" Chloe screamed quite unlike his father when he snatched her off of the stool, the bubbles on her face sliding off and hanging mid-air for a second like in a cartoon, "TICKLES!" Her guttural laughs exploded through the air like rays of sunshine.

Chloe gasped between giggles, squirming, "No! Uncle Arthur! This is unjust warfare!" She slid out of his grasp to the ground and regulated her breathing while he coolly let her alone, moved the stool out of the middle of the kitchen, and went to the sink. Hands in little claws by her face, she tiptoed behind him sneakily. Unluckily, Arthur turned around with hand full of suds before she made it to him. For a second she froze and returned his bemused stare. THEN SHE POUNCED! And tickled his stomach. That scratchy way kids do when they think you're going to topple over but really it just kinda hurts.

Arthur continued standing there, sudsy hand aloft, bored look on his face. Eventually she gave up, "You're not ticklish? Are you inhuman?"

"Pretty much," shrugged the Uncle, clapping the hand of soap on top of her head which elicited a gasp. They both dove into the sink for bubbles to throw at each other, sloshing water all over the place. Arthur had a mop, it wasn't a big deal, right? It was hard to cast bubble bombs at each other because the airy foam didn't travel far when thrown so all they really succeeded in doing was making the kitchen look like snowy, lathered chaos. In a fit, of competition, Arthur forgot he was essentially fighting a kid…He grabbed the pot and poured it over her head. "I win."

Now the kitchen floor was an ocean. She chased him, their feet splashing about, spreading the flood. Arthur was laughing quite stridently and triumphantly after she retreated back and seemed to quit. The silence brought him back to the forefront though and he wondered if he'd actually really upset his niece. "Chloe, are you ok?" He turned apologetically. And there she was. Sitting on the counter by the sink holding the retractable nozzle of the sink faucet in her hand with an all too familiar sickeningly mischievous grin. "Now, Chlo…" He held up his hands in surrender. A lone clump of bubbles dropped from the top of one of the cabinets onto her soaking wet head kind of like the cherry on an ice cream. It was cute. Until she pointed the nozzle at him and cried, "FOR NARNIA AND FOR ASLAN!"

An hour or so later, both had baths and were changed into dry pajamas. A towel was wrapped and folded on Chloe's head and one hung around Arthur's neck. Due to the lake on their kitchen floor, the Uncle took to mopping it up and the Niece had towels fashioned to the bottom of her slippers. She skated back and forth along the floors, sopping water and soap up while cradling and enjoying a bowl of strawberry ice cream. "I'm pretty sure I won, old man."

"Eat your ice cream, little girl."

xxxxxxx

"What time is it?" Ariadne asked as he walked her from the elevator to her room. Number 517, he'd never forget that number. Ariadne insisted she could walk the twelve steps from the elevator to her room out of politeness ( It felt extremely late and she knew Arthur was anal about getting the proper amount of sleep. That and Ariadne was the type of person who naturally slept like fourteen hours.) but Arthur wasn't about to say goodnight in the elevator.

The Point Man blew air from his cheeks and checked his watch, "4am." He was flabbergasted to be honest. Normally he kept closer track of time than that.

"What?" she blurted a little too loudly than her neighbors probably appreciated. She fished for her key from her wallet and pushed the door open, "We talked that long? We're only gonna get like two hours of sleep before work."

Arthur leant against the doorframe as she kicked her wedges into the closet. His boldness in the park retreated on their ride back to the hotel so he found his ears burn in nervousness. "Do you think I've earned a second date?" Ariadne opened her mouth for a smart comment about technically going on two that night but he cut her off, "Our dinner at the Oak doesn't count. That never happened."

The woman chuckled at him. Distracting him enough with her shining smile that he didn't expect her to tug on his tie and press her lips to his slow and sinuous. It caused an explosion in his belly of supernova proportions and he wanted to melt into her like butter. It was over before he could. His hooded eyes fluttered open to Ariadne biting her lip in a rare fit of modesty. "What do you think?"

Arthur's eyes were still pulsing. His head still spinning, "I'm having trouble thinking," all he wanted was to jut his chin forward and collide with her again. But he constrained himself and asked, "Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes to a second date. And a third. And," she nodded, "possibly a fourth if there's ice cream involved."

"Ice cream will most definitely be involved."

"Sounds like a plan."
xxxxxxx

Normally Chloe would be in bed at this point but on the weekends Arthur was more lenient. She'd completed reading her first novel, having finished the last chapter on the way back from the Orchards and already started her next from the collection Arthur procured for her: Esperanza Rising. It was a significantly shorter book so she was already a little more than a third of the way through it. While she was engrossed in her story and with white noise from House Hunters on the tv, Arthur stole away to his bedroom and called an old friend.

"Salut?" came a raspy voice after the sixth ring.

Arthur jumped to his feet from the side of the bed and walked to his window, "Miles. Hey, it's Arthur."

"Arthur?" In the background there was shuffling and a low exchange in French. He supposed Penelope had waken and Miles was explaining the caller and going into another room so she could sleep. "Zut alors, son, do you know what time it is here?" The Point glanced down at his watch only to realize he'd taken it off before his shower. Using mental math thought, if it was eight at night in New York it was roughly two in the morning in Paris. Oops.

"I'm sorry, it won't take long." Miles didn't answer positively or negatively though his sigh hinted at the latter. So Arthur continued on, "I need you to confirm the Bourgeois' contact information for me. I'm not sure if they've been changed. I'm trying to find Ari and Ender ag—"

"Again?" The old man exhaled, "It's been—"

"I know how long it's been!" The Point found himself losing his temper with the Professor and it shocked him. But he hated being reminded of the time. "I gave up because I thought she wanted to be left alone but I know now that I've got to find them anyways. I've got to see them; I don't care about anything else. Can you confirm her parent's contact info for me or no?"

Hesitance. Silence equals hesitance. "I'm not sure Ari would be comfortable with my doing that."

That provoked the grind of Arthur's jaw and a sharp turn away from his window, angrily sliding the curtain back over it. Why was everyone on her side? Of course her family would be but Miles and Penelope? Cobb and the kids? Eames and Yusuf? Even Arthur's parents? No one was willing to give him leeway. Give him a clue or a chance. It was easy for all of them to say: 'Sorry, Art, no can do. My lips are sealed.' They were all still on close terms with Ariadne. They kept in touch, probably visited or been visited. Arthur had nothing. He didn't even have the internet at his disposal. What Arthur tangibly owned of theirs like Ari's scarf, her note, the pictures, their marriage license…those were the only things that confirmed his wife and son ever existed. That and the fact that EVERYONE was against him. "You're not technically giving me any information. I already have these numbers." The Point appealed to the side of the man that used to be his and Cobb's mentor as well (before Ariadne ever came to the college), the side of Miles that saw Arthur as a son and Ender as his grandson. "I need my family, Stephen. Even a small sliver of intel, a yes or no, will mean the world to me. Please."

"Alright."

Arthur spouted the string of numbers and to his great fortune and happiness, they remained the same. Being related to Ariadne, their information had been blacked out when hers was in order to avoid him being able to track her by association. All he had to go by was the number he'd written down in one of his notebooks (while they were still dating) labeled Shannon and Gerard B. Contact with her parents was usually through Ariadne after they'd gotten married and it could've changed since then and he wouldn't have been the wiser. He called them after she left but by using the redial on their home phone. To bring it to mind now was useless. Anyways, he thanked Miles profusely and the two hung up on a better note then they started with. Then it was time to call her parents. There wasn't a time difference between NYC and North Carolina so that made it easier. He held his breath as it rang.

And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

There was never an answer.

xxxxxxx

"Morning, Arthur." Dom slipped into the warehouse the next day. Arthur didn't bother looking at him, opting to wave and continue typing away. All the while accusing, "Thanks a lot Dom. I'm fucked. We've only been on one date and I've told her more about me than most people know. I can't get her out of my head. Every time it's quiet I hear her, her face pops into my head randomly. I keep replaying last night over and over. It's ridiculously romantic. I feel like a pathetic high school kid counting down the minutes until I get to kiss this girl again. Like—what the hell did you make me do? I'm screwed." He swiveled his chair around to yell at Dom, "I just know I'm going to fall in love with her—"

And who was standing right behind him but the voice he kept hearing and the face that kept popping up. The adorable, charming, irresistible ball of energy. Flushed face and neck (which only made her that much more adorable and charming and freaking irresistible) and a bashful yet pleased closed lip smile, "Hi, Arthur."

"Shit. You're early today." His scalp tingled in mortification. He never intended (obviously) for her to hear any of it. He knew he must sound creepy or clingy or tragic to be that twitter-pated after one date. Granted they'd known and worked together longer than that so he had that fact going for him to ease the weirdness. "Shit!" He cursed at Dom, "Why didn't you tell me she was with you?"

Dom shrugged and snickered (that bastard) at him, "No fun that way."

To change subject and hopefully extract the heat from his face, neck and ears, Arthur slid a coffee over to the corner of the desk she was closest to. "I brought your usual."

"Thanks." She kept smiling. And it was that smile that made him want to duck his head into the ground like an ostrich and/or pinch her cheeks and/or lay her on his desk and kiss her senseless (and maybe other things). It was a lot to handle so he requested, "Could you not look at me like that? I'm having enough trouble juggling my feelings without adding humiliation to the plate."

"Sorry." It made him rethink his request when Ariadne dropped it…or, wait, no it was ok. Now, she was biting her lip and making his palms all sweaty. "I'd hate to make you restart your countdown but um…" Taking a second to check if Dom was watching (he wasn't), Ariadne leaned down. Her hands on his shoulders, the look in her eyes superlative. And then she kissed him. She kissed him and it was better than the night before. It was like rising in a hot air balloon and then freefalling out of it at its peak of height. "Good morning," that look was back when she pulled away. And damn, what Arthur would give for Ariadne to talk against his mouth every single time she had to speak. From now until the end of ever.

"Good morning…" he hummed, relishing that he could still feel their breath mingling between them. "We have to work late tonight to make the deadline but how about that second date tomorrow night? I'll let you choose where this time. And order for yourself."

Ariadne chortled at him, "Sounds great."

"I'm very much," the two gravitated back towards each other, both sets of eyes fluttering closed at the promise of another kiss, "looking forward to it…"

"Never fear, the Forger is here!"

Ariadne's eyes popped open and she straightened so fast she almost tripped backwards. Since, he was hanging his jacket (more like tossing it in the general vicinity of the makeshift coatrack they made) as she adjusted her stance to casually lean her back against Arthur's desk, her and Arthur had hope he hadn't seen anything. "Morning Eames."

"Morning darling. Looking good today and Arthur you're looking all pink and jived." Still facing away from the pair, there was no way he could've known what they looked like without having saw when he danced in. He winked when he finally bout faced and headed for his desk, an exaggerated 'come hither' motion added for effect. "Ariadne, why don't you bring that attractive bum over here, I've got an idea for my level."

"Yeah ok." The Architect turned back to Arthur a little deflated. She gave the Point a pout (because they didn't get to kiss again) as she scooped up her coffee and put it to her lips.

In response, Arthur leant back in his chair and wistfully started counting, "49, 50, 51, 52…"

xxxxxxx

Morning came quick and after watching the Food Network while waking up, Chloe was craving donuts. She slipped on a grey and white geo print skirt, thin greyish blue quarter sleeved shirt, and gauzy white summery scarf. Oh and pink and magenta striped socks and her cowboy boots. Arthur put on a casual brown suit, gold-ish tie and they headed downstairs to: First, give Max his present (he'd been off the day before) and Second, to hunt down a fun and cozy coffee and donut shoppe.

In her hurry to go have breakfast before it was deemed lunchtime (or else he'd make her eat real food), Chloe pulled him and his smile out the door before he could grab his phone off the charger. Not two minutes, after they'd vacated the apartment. His phone buzzed with the signal of a returned call.

xxxxxxx

A scrap of Ariadne-related info will be released next chapter. Revealing a possible temporary location. Any ideas? Chloe's time in New York is fixing to taper to a close. Got a cute child-milestone next chapter. Also Chloe and Arthur are going to have a movie night. Votes on a specific movie (other than Annie and a cartoon)? My default's gonna be Frozen because that's just typical right now but if you have a cute movie idea send it my way!

It was nice to have some sweeter memories of Ari/Art right? At least they weren't fighting or crying in these ^^^^