36.

Ariadne stood still for a few minutes, trying to familiarise herself with her surroundings. She was surprised to find herself inside a building already, and not out in the street. It appeared to be an empty office block; she was currently standing in the lobby by the receptionist's desk, staring at the large revolving door in front of her. It was made of glass, and she could see through it to the street outside. She thought she spotted someone walking around, but they disappeared from view before she could be sure.

Uncertain what to do with herself, she sat down in the vacant receptionist's chair and waited. For something to happen. Voices? Footsteps? A gunshot ...

She shuddered at the thought and swivelled the chair around so that it faced in the opposite direction. She wondered, for the umpteenth time that day, why on earth she was even there in the first place. How could it possibly be more dangerous up top than down here? Besides, if she was killed in the dream, she would only wake up in the limousine. It was pointless ... and yet she had agreed to Arthur's strange request without protest. He had asked her to do something for him, and she found she couldn't say no.

So here she was, slumped in a rotating chair in a deserted building, waiting for it to happen – the event that made her insides squirm even to think about. It really doesn't get much better, she thought dryly.

She was startled by the sharp footsteps on the floor behind her and spun the chair around again, ignoring the brief dizziness as she twirled a little too quickly. As she had already guessed, Arthur was walking towards her, dressed in a suit almost identical to the one he had worn in the second layer of the Inception – when he had leant towards her, uttered those fatal words ...

'It's nearly time,' Arthur said, interrupting her wandering thoughts. 'Are you okay in here?'

She nodded, desperately trying to hide her trepidation from him. Her stomach knotted as she imagined him standing outside, gun in hand, glaring at their captor with those cold eyes of his. And yet ... they were filled with an incredible warmth as he looked down at her, her knees tucked up onto the chair. Arthur knelt down beside her, his eyes level with hers as he gazed into them.

'It won't take long, I promise,' he said, his voice soft as a whisper. 'And then we'll be free. We won't need to worry about him any longer.'

Again she nodded, silently telling him that she understood; that she appreciated everything he was doing for her. For them all. She could only imagine how hard it was for him, shouldering the burden of guilt, of everyone's hopes. She wished, more than anything, that she could share it with him, to ease the pressure he was inflicting on himself. But she knew he wouldn't let her. And so she watched, and waited, for the time when it would all be over. When they could return to their lives and pretend none of it had ever happened.

Well, almost none of it ...

'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I know how much this pains you. But I hope – I pray – that one day you'll be able to forgive me.'

She was aware of his hand, suddenly so close to her face – when had that happened? She felt her heart begin to race as he reached, ever so slowly, towards her cheek. His fingers hovered there, tracing the outline of her jaw without ever making contact with her skin. Her spine tingled in anticipation; her throat was dry as she stared into his dark eyes. So close, so close – she could see every emotion possible flickering there, the depth stealing her breath away. If she could only bring herself to close those last few inches between them ...

But this was a dream. It wasn't real.

What happens in the dreams stays in the dreams. We don't discuss it once it's finished. It's safer that way.

And what if she wanted something more than just a dream? What if she wanted the real thing? What if she wanted ... the real Arthur?

'Ariadne, I ... '

He was so close, so close. She only had to extend her hand a few centimetres to touch his pale face, his parted lips.

So very close ...

'Arthur?'

The static voice made her jump. Arthur withdrew his hand in a flash, jumping to his feet as he unclipped the radio from his belt.

'Yes?'

'He's nearly here. I didn't see anyone along the way, though. No sign of Browning yet. Dumb bastard's probably got lost.'

'Thanks, Eames. Just keep a lookout. He'll get here soon enough.'

He looked down at Ariadne as he fastened the radio to his belt once more, the warmth all but gone from his eyes. He had reverted back to the cool, efficient Point Man he was so used to being. And for once, she didn't mind. He had to be that person if they had any hope of pulling this off.

The thought wasn't enough to still her pounding heart, to smother the disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach.

'Just wait here, okay? I'll be back soon. And ... cover your ears, if you don't want to hear.'

She hardly had time to nod before he was off again, marching through the revolving door and out into the street. She watched as a dark-suited, blonde man walked into view, stopping right in the middle of the doorway. She could only see the left side of his face as he stood there, metres away from her building, hands deep in his pockets.

She twisted the chair around again, tucking her knees up as far as they could go. She clamped her hands over her ears and waited for the bullet to crack through the air. The signal that it was finally over.

But it never came.

A/N: I couldn't very well leave you with Denley, could I? That would be mean. A little A/A here for you, before things kick off! Calm before the storm, perhaps? You shall have to wait and see!

As my training's now been cancelled, I have the rest of the night to work on the next chapter, so who knows - I may even be able to get 3 up tonight. Not like I feel like doing anything else anyway. :) Writing has pretty much become my nightly routine the last 3 weeks, and I'm loving it. It's so good to be so enthused by a story again. Now just to transfer that to my other non-fanfic ones ...