Weekly updates from now on! I finally got all of my writing off of my hard drive, and the story is done! Woo hoo! Thanks for sticking with me!

Eames and Ariadne are stiff, laying on two plastic lawn chairs with their eyes closed. I am sitting cross legged listening to 'The Man With The Big Somebrero'. Arthur loves Joan Havoc, and is watching it on an old television set a couple feet away from where they are sleeping. He's sipping coffee slowly, and I am humming the tune of the theme song under my breathe.

The timer beeps and they stir immediately, Ariadne glares at Eames a little and then jumps up, rushing off. I look at him with narrowed eyes, "What did you do?"

"I did nothing. She's a girl, her hormones-"

"Don't even start, Eames. What did you do?"

"Don't start on me, I'm not the one with my panties in a twist over a boy." That catches Arthur's attention and he turns in his chair to observe our argument. "And stop giving me that look."

"Did you say something to her about," I look at Arthur sideways and turn back to Eames. "You know who?"

"Who's you know who?"

"Just answer the question."

"I can't answer it if I don't know who we're talking about, genius."

"Hook the machine up again."

"Why?"

"Because we're going under. We need to have a talk."

"Listen if this is about that beautiful night we shared together, I'm not really rea-"

"Eames, one more word out of you and I am going to bury you alive, next to my house so I can hear you screaming. Hook up the damn machine." Arthur is standing now, his back turned to the television, hands balled into fists watching this unfold. He stalks over to the briefcase and lets his hand hover over the button.

He looks at Eames, "We will discuss your beautiful night with Lilah when you wake up." He presses the button. The timer was set for two and a half minutes, so I have a half an hour to berate Eames in the privacy of my own subconscious.

The fire is crackling slightly, and the wine glass delicately placed in between my fingertips is almost half empty. Eames is sitting across from me, the bottle in front of him, looking annoyed. "Are we in a cabin?"

"Yes, it's pretty. And it's snowing outside, I love the snow. Now what did you say to the girl?"

"You brought me all the way here to ask me that?"

"And to practice forging, but mostly, to ask you that, yes."

"Well, I brought up Cobb, she went a bit mad, actually. Started going on about how I don't have any right to say that sort of thing, and how I knew nothin' about nothin'."

"What did you say about him?"

"Well, I kind of eluded to the fact she was, maybe... avoiding a relationship because she was in love with him."

I am totally silent because this is ridiculous. Utterly, ridiculous. "She is aware he is a forty year old widow, correct?"

"Fully."

"And that he has children, and she could be a sister to those children. He's old enough to be her father. Plus, didn't Arthur... you are all so confusing. We were never this mismatched, I had Arthur, Cobb had Mal, you had hookers, it was all so black and white."

"I never had hookers."

"Tulip was a hooker."

"Oh, yeah, that one was. Besides the point- can we move on, and start practicing?"

So we practice for a whole twenty five minutes and he tells me that I am scary as the mother, and that he's going to have nightmares. I tell him he doesn't dream anymore and he's about to comeback when the timer goes off and we both wake to see a very unhappy Arthur hovering over us.

"Have you two slept together?" Eames chuckles, pulling the IV from his arm and standing.

"So what if he hav-"

"No! No we have not. Never, not once," I look up at Eames and say the last word through gritted teeth. "Ever."

Arthur looks likes he is about to say something venomous when his cell phone rings, he answers and then stalks off, leaving the warehouse entirely and ducking into the alley outside. This is the fourth mysterious phone call he has gotten since I arrived, and it's starting to make me insanely curious. Eames seems less bothered by it, and wanders off in search of an internet connection. I decide to go find Ariadne.

When I finally locate her, she is upstairs in one of the four bedrooms reading a large textbook, 'Ancient Greek Architechts at work: Problems of structure and design'. She doesn't look up when I open the door, so I knock a little. "Im sorry to bother you."

"Oh no, I was just catching up on some work."

"Strange question, do you want to go get some pizza?"

She pauses, considering. "Yes, yes I do. Let me grab my coat."

I follow her downstairs and decide to warn Eduardo of our departure. Eames and Arthur alone in a warehouse full of tools could turn into a very disturbing Hostel situation given enough animosity. I would very much like to return to all eyeballs and genetalia fully intact. He agrees to mediate and I lead Ariadne all the way to Bensonhurst in Brooklyn. The train ride is over an hour, but it's worth it, because Bad Boy's had the best pizza in all of New York.

She sits across from me, waiting for the slice to cool down. I look to my right and observe myself in the mirror- I look tired. How ironic.

"So, you knew Cobb when Mal was alive?"

I am taken aback my her question, but recover quickly. "Yes, I knew them both. She was an extraordinary women, a painter with an eye for landscapes." I realize that I am going to tell her about Arthur and I, that now is the right time for her to know. She needs to know. "I think you should know that Arthur and I have a lot of history. I am not saying it's going to complicate the job, but it might and I think you have a right to know."

I start to pick at my cuticles, but stop because it's a nasty habit. I can imagine my mother slapping my hand away and saying some along the lines of 'stop chewin' on your fingers' in her old timey, brooklyn accent.

Ariadne looks confused, but keeps quiet and I just start to talk. "We weren't just friends, ever. We were always something more, maybe not lovers at first, but that's what it turned into. I ashamed to say that we botched a job, and things just got so complicated that it tore us apart. Cobb became angry with Arthur and I, and Arthur and I became angry with each other. So, we ended up in Marsielle, France on our way to Paris. This bigwig theatre owner needed something pulled out of his rivals head, and I remember being very excited to go to paris," I stop and lean down to take a bite of pizza.

"When I woke up the morning of our departure, I found all of their things gone and a note on the kitchen table. I called Eames because he was the only one I could get in touch with, but he never gave me any information on their whereabouts because he didn't know himself. I haven't seen Arthur until now, things are still very..."

"Confusing." She finishes.

I nod. "Yes, confusing."