Hey guys! Slowly but surely. My mom had surgery and we had a ton of family in town so this update was a little slow, I know. I'm working on it lol.

Thank You's: Neverlandspirit: Well good! I'm glad your theories were blown because that means I wasn't predictable! I am willing to bet that is plausible (your theory on rob and the coffee) but may or may not be confirmed. Yet. What? Thanks for writing in! I love hearing from you! Lauraa-x: Hey gurl. Well, technically everything we do has motive behind it…so we'll see. Meh, Ari's head is a mosh pit of possibilities. The Pink Archer: I know. Arthur is so freakin dreamy. Wow. Favorite chapter! Yay! And I did get your PM, but my life has been super crazy I haven't been able to sign in and reply but I'm heading over to read and comment right after I update! =) kamarooka: Nice pun. Hahaha. Her turn was a bit of an anomaly shall we say? I regret to tell you that while it is explained in this chapter, we won't get greater and deeper detail about it until further along. LoneZebra: No prob, I love shoutouts! Glad to supply some A/A. =)

CUPCAKES FOR YOU GUYS: SGundy (SFollow), TriGemini (SFollow), AutumnChild22 (SFollow, SFave, AFave), Darklucarby (SFollow), Hanana-chan (SFollow).

Chapter 14: Disturbia

It's a thief in the night to come and grab you
It can creep up beside you and consume you
A disease of the mind it can control you
It's too close for comfort.
 —Rihanna

Cobb was still perusing around on the balcony with his toast when Arthur's panic rang through the entire penthouse. With Arthur being the ultimate cool cucumber of the team, when he was panicked enough to let it show it was reason for everyone else to freak out. The Extractor dropped his midnight snack and rushed into the doorway, his stance copying Arthurs, "What is it?" What could've possibly transpired in ten or so minutes?

Simultaneously, Eames and Yusuf burst through their doors. Yusuf's ensemble was all bunched and wrinkled and his curly mop a hot mess. Shirtless Eames was basically still asleep; One of his eyelids was half closed, his mouth hung open and one eyebrow arched up. The only person Arthur was concerned with relaying information to was the Chemist. "Something's wrong with Ari."

Yusuf disappeared back into his room and gaited back out with his medical kit, shoving his glasses on with one hand as he went. "Where is she?"

"Our room," Arthur stood to the side to let Yusuf through, "She's doubled over from the head pain and her memory keeps hopping all over the place."

Yusuf turned over his shoulder as he passed through the doorway and requested Cobb or Eames bring him a glass of water then asked Arthur for more information, "What time frames?"

"Between days before our anniversary and about fifteen minutes ago. " Arthur was never one to crowd a professional (especially one with more knowledge in a specific field than he) when they were doing their thing so he forced himself to stay in the doorway.

Ariadne was lying on her back with her arms folded over to cover her eyes, seemingly asleep. The Chemist went around and sat at the edge of her side of the bed, gently pulling one of her arms from her eyes, "Ariadne can you hear me? Could you look at me please?"

Her eyes squinted in time with Yusuf opening his kit and laying out several instruments and an open notebook. "Who are you?"

"Yusuf Pesh," replied the man as he shone the flashlight into her eyes, "We work together. We're friends, remember?"

"I don't know you," Ariadne agitatedly argued, shying away from the light by turning her head. It seemed like she was having incredible sensitivity. He wrote that down in what looked like meaningless scribble lines to Arthur.

"Well I'm a doctor and you have a bit of a head injury. So I'm going to need you to sit up and answer a few questions for me, ok?" Swiftly, the Chemist wrapped a blood pressure cuff around an upright Ariadne's upper right arm, "What's your full name?"

She didn't answer right away. Not because she'd forgotten her name but because it took a minute for the question to fully process. "Ariadne Grace Bourgeois."

He could confirm the first and last name on his own but Yusuf glanced over at Arthur to make sure she was remembering her middle name correctly. Once that was affirmed he went for another generic question, pumping the cuff full of air as he went. "And tell me your birthday and how old you are." Again, her answer was delayed. Yet, February 21st, 1991 was correct as was her declaration of being twenty three years old. So they were dealing with memory jumps within the same year. Yusuf twisted the knob on the cuff to hold the air and put on a stethoscope to listen to her pulse and gauge her B.P, "What's your occupation?"

Her free hand held her forehead like she was testing herself for a fever, "I'm a junior year architecture student." That was the first answer so far that wasn't right. Ariadne was a senior in the final week of exams when she and Arthur were in the crash. She was finishing her fall spring semester as a junior when they'd done Inception together.

Yusuf calmly wrote that tidbit and her blood pressure down in his notebook—careful that too much reaction would send alarm to the other men in the penthouse. "Does the word dreamshare mean anything to you?"

"Dream what?" said a wide-eyed puzzled Architect.

"Do you know a man name Dominic Cobb?"

"No…" Her eyes narrowed, "Wait. That's my professor's son in law." While true, she spoke about Dom as if she hadn't personally met him (even though he was standing in her doorway. And if she hadn't remembered meeting Dom or learning about dreamshare, she might not remember….Yusuf grimaced and lowered his voice, "What about a man named Arthur?"

The look she gave Yusuf—like he was insane—said more than her 'no' ever could. "I've never heard of these people."

The Chemist's attempt at keeping it from Arthur wasn't successful. He saw her facial expression and swallowed hard, turning his back to her and harshly whispering to Dom in a panic, "It's happening again." On their lunch break, Arthur explained to the team what they'd been through in the dream so Cobb was aware of the emotional and mental stress Ariadne's amnesia had on the both of them. He patted Arthur's shoulder.

Yusuf looked back at them then back at her, "Are you sure those names aren't familiar? Think about them again," as he took her wrist in his hand and felt for her pulse.

Ariadne's scrunched face spaced out in the direction of the closet. Her hands idly fiddled with the bed sheets. Suddenly she jutted her head back and blinked her eyes. "Yusuf?" She smiled at him, "What are you doing in Paris?"

"We're not in Paris," corrected the chemist, "We're in New York, remember? We're here for a job? You were in an accident and then in a hospital and then you were brought here?"

This time her eyes roamed over the ceiling, "Oh yeah." She looked at Yusuf curiously, "Where's Arthur?"

"I'm here." He answered a little too quickly, stepping out of the shadows in the doorway and coming to sit on the bed with her and Yusuf.

"I've been looking for you…" smiled Ariadne sweetly.

It only served to give him anxiety. He gave Yusuf a look, "That's the third time she's said that."

"My head hurts I—" she started but was cut off by the Point: "I already gave you medicine."

"You did?" Her eyebrows knit. Her right hand grazed across her forehead, "What's happening to me?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?" Yusuf asked, notebook resting on his knee.

"An eight. Sometimes it'll throb though and then it's a ten."

The Chemist nodded, "And where on your head does it hurt?"

"All over but mostly my forehead..." As their friend rigorously wrote down information, Ariadne rubbed her temples and looked to the Point anxiously, "Arthur, I'm scared."

He replied, "Everything's going to be ok," as he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. Chillingly, her response was to lightly run one of her hands down his arm and question, "What are you doing here? I thought you were on a business meeting in Moscow."

xxxxxxx

They let Ariadne sleep. That seemed to be the only course of action left that was plausible. They'd already given her medicine to control the pain and nausea. The next best solution was to let her rest. Perhaps once her head stopped hurting she could think straight. Until then, if she remained awake she would go crazy. (And drive Arthur there too). Yusuf gave her a tablet of Melatonin (a natural sleep inducing supplement) and they cleared the room.

Arthur took a seat on the couch next to Eames who'd propped his elbow on the couch arm and his chin in his hand, his interest in Ariadne's welfare the only thing keeping him from conking out then and there. Yusuf sat in one of the loveseats and Dom chose to stay standing. "I don't think we have too much to worry about," explained Yusuf to the group, "her blood pressure, temperature and heart rate are all relatively normal. Her eyes aren't dilated and I didn't find any signs of infections from her crash wounds…we're seeing standard symptoms of a concussion."

The Point Man had been in enough situations and did enough research on certain medical conditions that he was sufficiently versed in the basics of concussions. He knew one shouldn't sleep for twenty four hours after getting one, that it sometimes led to amnesia and that people felt such effects as fatigue, dizziness and nausea for a few days after. However, "The crash was two weeks ago."

Yusuf could understand the reasoning behind Arthur's doubt in the diagnosis. It's less commonly known that, "Symptoms of concussion can last for weeks." Yusuf also added, "They'll span an especially long period for Ariadne seeing as she hit her head so hard it actually cracked a 3mm thick car window and was knocked into unconsciousness for a span of a week and a half immediately after instead of being kept awake as protocol. I won't sugarcoat it and say there isn't a high chance her brain was harshly damaged."

"So the fact that her brain is stuck on a continuous loop is normal?" Eames chided while Arthur tried to let the idea of Ariadne's brain being impaired sink in. The Forger wasn't going to be easily convinced. He agreed with the Point that something extra was wrong, "Seems off to me even for a concussion. Should she be hurting that bad? I get that loss of memory happens but she's losing and regaining the same memories over and over in the matter of seconds." The Forger got a little angry though not even he knew why, "She was fine two days ago."

Yusuf raised his hands almost in surrender, "Some of the more severe symptoms have a delayed onset. If they're increasingly worse instead of increasingly better by the end of the month, we'll do a more thorough test of her brain."

"The end of the month?!" Arthur gaped.

"That's when we'll know if it's something more serious than concussion…if the symptoms haven't subsided by then then it'll be abnormal," Yusuf tried to share his understanding and looked to Dom for help in quelling the other two men.

Arthur shook his head, "I don't know why you can't do a more thorough test now." What was the point in waiting until something was obviously wrong and it had developed to a point of being irreversible. He'd rather take the initiative and if there was something to find, find it early.

Dom stepped in then, "Because we don't want to cause more stress for her than necessary." Yusuf agreed. To hook her up to a machine with all kind of wires connected to her head and worry her (and the rest of them) when they had a plausible explanation and no real reason to jump to conclusions was unnecessary. Now if her heart rate was up or her blood pressure was abnormally high or she was having cold sweats and a fever he might be in the same state as Arthur and Eames, wanting to get something done and fast. Arthur was making a mountain out of a molehill (with good intentions of course) and Eames was encouraging it instead of helping Yusuf and Dom reassure the Point.

Eames—now leagues more awake—crossed his arms over his chest. Arthur was put on the fence by Yusuf's reply. He didn't want to needlessly stress the Architect out either. That's why he kept his misgivings about Fischer to himself. Why he didn't bother telling her how threatening and tyrant-like Browning acted as he supervised the team at the warehouse. When the wary looks continued circulating the room, Yusuf compromised, "Let's just see how she is in the morning and go from there."
xxxxxxx

Ariadne woke up surprisingly early. Before any of the other men, in fact. She managed to wash her hair in the sink on her own, brush her teeth and pad out to the main area without waking her boyfriend. Arthur had a rough night—he wasn't able to go to sleep until around four am—so he was knocked out. Yusuf was asleep on the couch (most likely in case there was another scare). One of his legs was propped up on the back of the couch, one arm was hanging out of his makeshift cover and his glasses were still on. Ariadne laughed to herself and tip-toed to the kitchen as quietly as possible to make some breakfast. She didn't do anything fancy. Just toasted a couple waffles, got a small bowl of blueberries, poured herself a glass of milk and went out on the balcony.

Normally, Ariadne had to be dragged out of bed at nine and ten o'clock. Unless she was traveling or had an early class (which she tried to avoid when picking her schedule) she was never up before the sun. It was nice though; she could understand why Arthur appreciated being up before everyone else. It was peaceful and quiet and watching the sun wake up was beautiful when you weren't too tired to enjoy it. It was a little cool outside and the sky was a little pale but with her socks on her feet and some syrup on her waffles, Ariadne was pretty content. The Architect was more than halfway through with her breakfast when a friend and the smell of coffee came out on the balcony with her. "Morning," she smiled.

"Morning," replied Yusuf, sitting opposite of her as he did so. "How are you feeling?"

"Good."

"Head's ok?"

Ariadne nodded.

"Nausea's….?"

She lifted her plate for him to see, "Fine."

He asked to check her side injury. Good news was that even though it may still be sore, it was healing like it was supposed to and she no longer had to wear a bandage. With excitement she wadded up the bandage and tossed it to the other chair before folding her shirt back down and grabbing her plate again.

"So we're much better than last night?" Yusuf had more questions. "Know where we are?" How did he know how she was feeling last night? The Architect didn't notice he had his medical notebook with him until he opened it up and began running his finger along the lines as he re-read through. Ariadne watched him check off some boxes before answering, "Honestly, I don't remember much of last night. I remember my head hurting and getting up to find Arthur but…nothing after that," she added a timid grimace. All the Chemist did was raise his eyebrows and write. For a split second Ariadne felt like she was in a therapy session. By his expression, whatever she didn't remember wasn't too pleasant but he wasn't surprised she couldn't recall it. Did she have an episode like those she used to have in the dream? And what did he mean, 'know where you are'? Had she forgotten last night? What all had she forgotten after getting up to find medicine? "How bad was it?"

Yusuf tilted his head and pursed his lips, hesitant to say, "It was pretty freaky. You kept repeating yourself and went through phases of not remembering any of us."

Oh no…She knew amnesia was a tricky thing. She'd been in a coma, in limbo, had a lingering concussion and all sorts of other problems. It didn't scare her per se because she didn't remember it…maybe it was good she didn't. But after all they'd been through she knew who it would scare. After popping some blueberries into her mouth, she asked, "How was Arthur?"

The Chemist blew air into his cheeks, "You know him."

Ariadne silently acknowledged that she did with a bite of waffle and gulp of milk. She couldn't remember her head ever hurting as bad as it has the night before…it was so bad the other parts of her brain (memory, consciousness) just blacked out to compensate. She was curious was her friend's professional opinion was—after all she didn't get to read over her papers in the hospital. "Do you think it's from the concussion or…you know, the effects of limbo and the Somnacin?"

Yusuf paused, coffee cup at the lips, "Well two common late onset concussive complaints are concentration and memory loss. You would've been far gone upon waking at the hospital if it was because of limbo."

"Well that makes me feel better," she shrugged, "But that means I'll probably have more episodes. Right?"

He nodded, "Most likely. But the more rest you get, the less prone to episodes you'll be. And I can get Eames to forge a prescription for Zofran, that'll take care of your nausea and dizziness. If you feel any new effects come to me straight away and we'll try to deal with it before something happens." He leaned in and got quieter though with the city more awake and the thick paned sliding doors, Ariadne was doubtful anyone could hear them unless they were dogs, "I want to keep Arthur as out of the middle of it as possible. He's got issues of his own from limbo and the crash, he's bogged down with the job; I just don't want him to get too paranoid for his own health risks. Especially if it's nothing severe."

Ariadne shook her head at his obvious shyness in suggesting that. Maybe he thought she'd be offended but she all but jumped at the chance. She wouldn't lie and say Arthur wasn't a stubborn little worry wart and he'd been nothing but tense and anxious since they woke up. She thought him having his mind on the job would help but instead of going off to the warehouse and focusing on the inception, he went off and focused on her left alone in the penthouse. Every tiny thing put him on edge lately so if they could alleviate some of his stress by treating her under the table she was all for it, "No, I think it's best we keep him in the dark unless I'm dying or something if at all possible. If not so he doesn't suffocate me with his worrying..."

Yusuf lifted his mug, "Or suffocate himself."

"Thanks, Yuse," Ariadne smiled softly.

"No problem. Can I ask one favor in return?"

"Shoot."

He squinted, "Don't let the Point Man kill me for keeping secrets when he finds out." It was sort of a joke. Sort of not. Arthur could snap a man's neck like a toothpick if he was mad enough; she was used to most of their coworkers and a few of her guy friends (the girls just thought he was hot) being deathly afraid of Arthur and the mobster impression he gave off. He and Yusuf were good friends but still, the Chemist's thumb nervously rubbed the handle of his mug.

Ariadne half-chuckled and nodded.

xxxxxxx

To Arthur's relief, Ariadne had reverted back to normal that morning and remained that way so far. And much to his delight, there were no signs of a visit from Robert either. Now, she had had one more pretty bad midnight headache but no loss of memory and she and Yusuf were able to catch both before it got too bad and before Arthur woke up.

The Team was making slow progress. Crawlingly slow. As the supervisor, Browning was strict in his guidelines and made them jump through hoops to get any of their ideas or suggestions approved. Yes, they couldn't blame him for being careful and making sure the team didn't pull a fast one over on him and his nephew but still…he wasn't being conducive. He was actually hindering their progress and making motivation less and less prevalent. Right now, the Point was having to put together a presentation (the content was volunteered by the others as well) to pitch three levels to the man. Their initial question during their morning briefing was denied. Browning couldn't understand why an inception couldn't be carried out in one or two levels. First, he was skeptical about paying Yusuf for triple the amount of compounds. Then, he was concerned about the safety of taking Robert so many levels under and whether their intentions in doing so were misplaced or not. On top of all that, he was convinced they were tripling the levels merely to lengthen their labor period so they could be paid for sitting on their asses and taking their time. He demanded a presentation be made so he could weigh the pros and cons and decide whether or not three levels were necessary (never mind what the experts had to say on their situation).

They came home exhausted that day. More mentally than physically. Cobb threw his stuff down and headed straight for the shower. Eames half undressed and buried his face in the fridge while Yusuf plopped into one of the loveseats to take his shoes off and while Arthur loosened his tie and relaxed onto the couch cushions. Ariadne put down the book she was reading and raised her eyebrows at all them. They looked a mixture of pissed off, ready to nap, and thankful they were home. "Rough day at the office, boys?"

Yusuf just groaned but Eames rolled his eyes, his head falling backwards onto the back of his chair, "You have no idea."

"That bad, huh?" smirked the girl up at her boyfriend as she poked his side.

Arthur sighed. Gave her a look that transmitted all of their annoyance with their employer and draped his arm around her shoulder. That gesture normally gives comfort to the person inside the embrace but more often than not, in Arthur and Ariadne's case, the one with the arm wrapped around the other was the one soothed by it. "Well if it's any consolation to the three of you," she began, "The girl on Chopped totally burnt her soufflé and the couple on Love It or List It—Sarah and Andrew—they listed their house even though I thought Hilary did a fantastic job upgrading their kitchen. Oh and Once Upon a Time was renewed for another season. Kill me now."

Arthur and Eames laughed however Yusuf was offended, "I love Once Upon a Time…"

"Sorry Ariadne," apologized the Forger, opening up a beer and grabbing a leftover box of pasta, "Here we are complaining about being at work and there you are wishing you weren't anywhere but."

"We'll have levels for you design any day now," promised her boyfriend.

"Hopefully," Eames added with an extra sneer towards the door. "You know, you could come up with some generic mazes we could use while you're waiting."

The woman smirked, "I have."

"It's got some good subplots…" Yusuf was stuck two minutes in the past, shocked his friends weren't part of that fan base. Ok Arthur…sure, he wouldn't like it. But Eames and Ariadne? Come on.

There was a new, interesting looking book sitting on the coffee table. A bookmark peeked out at the top—a laminated cupcake printed one with a short bright pink tassel hanging down. It was paperback and the cover was bright red, the print a very light yellow-ish (almost white) color. 'The Paris Architect,' it read, 'a novel by Charles Belfoure'. Arthur picked it up and flipped through it while Ariadne tossed the remote to Yusuf and let him flip through channels. "New book?"

Ariadne nodded and crossed her legs under her on the couch, "It's set during the 1940's when the Nazis occupied France. It's about this Parisian Architect who's approached by a rich Jewish man to design a secret hiding place for his family. Something's supposed to go wrong and cause a lot of conflict but I haven't gotten very far so I don't know what."

"Sounds like a page turner," the Point Man offered. Looked at the back cover. "Did you get it in the bookstore downstairs?" The hotel had a bunch of luxuries including two fine dining restaurants, a café, a bookstore, a convenience shop of sorts, a florist, and a few boutiques. She didn't have to leave the building to have part of the city at her disposal.

"Yeah?"

"Did you do alright? I wish you wouldn't go down there alone."

"Well…" she squinted. Her line of sight dropped to stare intently at the book when Arthur's line of sight rose from the book to stare intently at her. The Point Man narrowed his eyes and studied his surroundings for a confirmation of his notion. There on the ground by the leg of the coffee table was a tiny, square, plastic candy wrapper like that of a peppermint. And though the table only had glass of coke on it, he spotted the wet ring of condensation left by a second glass. "Fischer visited again, didn't he?"

Ariadne blinked up at him, she shrugged nonchalant, "He took me down there to pick a book and—" she stopped herself. A flash of panic that she said too much waved through her eyes and she looked back down at the book. Hoped he didn't hear the 'and' part.

"And what?"

Damn it. Arthur didn't sound miffed at all. Just curious and interested. And Ariadne didn't have anything to hide, it wasn't as if her and Robert did anything wrong but it was the fact that it was Fischer of all people and Arthur already had a disdain for him and anything he said or did. "And we went to lunch." Frowning, she added, "He was sort of insistent."

To give Arthur some credit, if he was upset he handled it very well. He reeled it in and compacted all of it into a tightlipped smile, "Sounds like a nice outing." After all, had one of his team mates taken the initiative to get Ariadne out of the penthouse for a bit and been gratuitous enough to take her to lunch and get her something to help keep her occupied while she waited to heal…he would've been thankful to them. Then again, he trusted his team mates. He swallowed, put the book down and got up and headed to the kitchen. Said something about Cobb's turn to pick what was for dinner and that they needed to clean out the fridge.

xxxxxxx

Arthur hopped out of the cab with two to-go boxes of salad and one large cup carefully balanced in one hand, a large cup of soup tucked in the crook of his arm and a mint chocolate milkshake carried in the other. Today, Arthur stole out of the warehouse on their lunch break and went back to surprise his girlfriend with lunch. Browning wasn't thrilled with him commuting so far on his hour and a half break. Peter was sure Arthur would lollygag and be back late. That he would waste time that wasn't his. Arthur wasn't about to be told no and he made that clear. Made himself a little too threatening to their older employer. Cobb told him he needed to act more submissive (whether he obeyed everything out of the watchful eye or not). It wasn't a normal job and the last thing they needed was Browning to sick some of his men on Arthur for getting his ego bruised. Eames and Yusuf were more childish…they smothered laughs into their hands at their respective desks. It was a really big deal over something simple as lunch. He left the food at the front desk while he ran into the florist and picked up a small bouquet of white daisies and carnations. A four of five flower one he could conceal in his inside jacket pocket and not squish. Arthur rode the elevator up to the top and eagerly entered the penthouse. "Surprise, I brought—"

His declaration was drowned out by the score of a very old Godzilla movie and not just Ariadne's guffaw at the horrible special effects but Robert Fischer's. On the table in front of them were two platter-like plates (suggesting they ordered up from one of the downstairs restaurants). On hers was a mostly eaten barbeque bacon burger and fruit, on the one in front of the other man were the remains of a ribeye and Caesar salad. And what was there in front of her but a huge milkshake…Arthur couldn't help but let his agitation bubble up. He stated his presence by confronting the heir, "What are you doing here?"

Ariadne nearly choked on a piece of watermelon when she noticed Arthur standing there. (And with takeout…) Robert glanced over, an amused grin still plastered on his face from the movie. "Oh, hello Arthur."

Arthur repeated himself louder to be heard over the noise, "What are you doing here?" The Architect quickly grabbed the control from behind her and muted the television.

"What does it look like?" deadpanned their client.

Ariadne rubbed her forehead, dreading what was to transpire. Arthur gaited forward through the foyer into the main room still holding all the food and sternly pointed out, "You have no reason to be here."

"The reason was Ariadne was hungry." Robert slowly (sort of bored too) stood up and pocketed his hands. "What was I supposed to do let you starve her to death?" Ariadne stood up too if only to remind them she was there so they'd stop talking like she wasn't.

Rephrasing a bit, Arthur countered, "You have no right to be here." Who did he think he was? The sight of him made Arthur livid.

"I have every right, thank you. This is my penthouse, you are my team." Robert emphasized each 'my' with his pointer finger. "Ariadne is her own person. I believe she decides who has the right to be with her."

Ariadne's mouth fell open. If she was questioning the way he made it sound, she knew Arthur picked up on it. Her and the Point Man's gazes met. She twisted towards their employer and warned, "Robert…" at the same time Arthur demanded, "Get out."

"Or what? If we want to spend time together who are you to stop us?"

The Architect turned back to catch Arthur's reaction but by that point he'd had enough. The woman hadn't opened her mouth to dispute Robert's cocky claims or to side with Arthur. Not once since he'd appeared. All she did was look at Arthur anxiously, wary of what he was going to do about it. Over her shoulder, behind her where she couldn't see, Robert smirked both victoriously and maliciously towards Arthur. Throwing in a wink, when the room stayed silent. Arthur grit, "You're right. Who am I?" Ariadne saw a blaze of hurt and ire in Arthur's eyes when he gave her one last look before tossing the contents in his hands (lettuce, dressing, soup, and milkshake going everywhere) and storming out to the balcony.

Ariadne told her friend he better go.

"You're going to kick me out because he's pouting?"

"No, I'm asking you to leave because we need privacy." Robert tilted his head and sighed when she continued, "Thank you for lunch but it's time for you to go."

xxxxxxx

Arthur stood with his hands on the rail. His top buttons undone, his tie loosened. Silently, Ariadne slid open the door and joined him. Put her hands on the rail beside him and studied his face. Remorse for something (but she didn't know exactly what) filled her to the brim as she looked at him. He didn't acknowledge her for the longest time. Instead, he stared at the buildings across the way and the continuously flashing Coca Cola sign between them. Finally, with his eyes still trained on that sign, he softened, "I'll clean up the mess and replace the food. You could have it for dinner or something."

The Architect moved to lean against the thick railing on her side, "I didn't know you were coming. You haven't come back for lunch once in the two weeks we've worked, how was I supposed to know?"

He shook his head. Not mad, not upset, nothing really. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Still. I wouldn't have eaten if I'd known," her hand slid on top of one of his and curled so the tip of her fingers were between the bases of his, "I would've waited and eaten with you."

"It wasn't a big deal," he softly brushed the whole recent debacle off. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did. I'm sure I embarrassed you."

Wasn't a big deal? Then how come he wasn't showing those dimples she loved? How come he still wasn't meeting her eyes. "What's wrong?" Ariadne leaned closer, "There's an underlying problem here…what is it?"

Arthur shook his head again, "I'm angry with myself for even feeling this way. It's foolish."

"Feeling what way?" When he wouldn't answer, her other hand ran up and down his arm then hooked around to hold and rub her thumb along his bicep, "Arthur…"

That's when he turned his head to look at her and she could see his eyes were red rimmed. No sign of tears but he was severely worked up. Arthur gazed repentantly down at her like he was sorry for the thoughts in his head. "Like I'm being replaced."

Well Ariadne couldn't believe that. Her eyebrows furrowed. It was her turn to shake her head. "You could never be replaced. You're my best friend. I'm in love with you." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled his body against hers, "I want to be with you forever…" she then glanced almost laughingly behind him at the doors suggesting the man that just left, "Fischer is just convenient company who likes to pay for things."

"He wants you."

Her face scrunched as she denied it, "No."

"Yes." He nodded firmly, "He's fixated on you. I know how a businessman with little social skill shows affection," then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly.

Still, she kept disagreeing. "He's just lonely." It was true! He had his godfather whom he called 'Uncle Peter' whom wasn't even really family so he had none. Other than him, he had clients, employees and other public figures who met for drinks or dinner he called 'friends'. "He's got nothing better to do. And quite frankly, neither do I. Yet." Arthur shot her a doubtful look. So she defended, "Even if he tried something…you know I wouldn't."

"I know. I don't doubt your fidelity for a moment but I don't trust him." Here, his arms encircled her shoulders protectively. Ariadne felt herself pulled closer as he looked over the city like a watchdog. "He is used to getting whatever or whoever he wants with a snap of his fingers. If he asks and you say no, I'm afraid of what he'll do or use against us— or you to make you be with him. He's not who you think." The image of Robert's evil grin from behind Ariadne seared his brain.

The image of him scared and crying, tied up on the balcony of Dom's house in limbo was seared into hers, "Maybe he's not who you think either…"

"Maybe. This is one instance I pray that I'm wrong." He kissed her forehead, "Just promise me you'll be careful. That you'll tell me the instant he makes you feel uncomfortable."

"I will, I promise." Ariadne squeezed him and rested her head on his chest. When she put her ear to him though, she heard the sounds of paper…"Um," she pulled away, looked up at him both entertained and confused, "You're crinkling…?"

"Oh," started Arthur and he pulled out the bouquet of white daisies and carnations. It was slightly ruffled but still beautiful. "I got you flowers." He jokingly chided, "Something he hasn't given you."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. Slapped his chest before smelling the flowers.

xxxxxxx

Ariadne and Arthur emerged from their bedroom the next morning when they heard a bunch of commotion outside their door. Eames was just coming out of his too, freshly dressed, hair still wet from his shower. Dom was holding the front door open, a cup of coffee in his other hand and Yusuf was sitting wide eyed and uncomfortable on the couch as he was continuously surrounded by a parade of henchman bringing in huge bouquet baskets. One of them approached the Architect, "These are from Mr. Fischer. He hopes you'll be pleased with them." He handed her a small card that apologized for causing a row between her and Arthur which she handed to the Point Man to read. It was actually a very nice gesture. Once all of the men were gone however, they looked at each other warily.

Because the baskets were filled with white daisies and carnations.
xxxxxxx

Your train of thought will be altered
So if you must falter, be wise
Your mind is in Disturbia

xxxxxxx

Now this was a relatively calm chapter after the end of the last one…I know. But don't think Ariadne is in the clear because she had some good days. Between a crash, coma, limbo and a concussion, there's a loose screw up there somewhere just waiting to fall out. And Arthur…he's been through a lot too. The crash was easier on him but limbo wasn't and the paranoia to come will be…difficult for everyone to say the least. On top of all of that, we've got Fischer. A really nice (but not so nice) guy who's really focused on our favorite Architect.

Review please! Let's see what happens!