AN. Hi, I'm Chris Nolan, and I own Inception. Aren't you jealous of me and the fact that I got to keep the Batmobile?

Just kidding. I'm listening to Jar of Hearts and making a tarot deck, because I've always wanted one ever since I read the sixth Harry Potter book, just so I can walk past someone and go "a young man, possibly dangerous…that can't be right!" Because I'm cool like that. Ooh, speaking of songs, if y'all haven't listened to Letters from the Sky by Civil Twilight yet, DO IT. RIGHT THIS SECOND. I planted it in your brain, you don't have a choice.

Anyway, I'm updating this, because I was threatened with cupcakes of vengeance, and everyone knows the only thing more dangerous than being stuck in Limbo is being attacked. *shudders*.

"Oh," Ariadne said, taken aback by Fischer's invitation. She had no idea what the protocol for this situation, but she took a moment to think about what Arthur would say. On the one hand, if he were to ever recognize her from the Inception dream; it would comprise the current operation. Then again, since this current job was technically on Cobol payroll, couldn't she use some sort of a, "we're on the same side" technique, like a real-life Mr. Charles gambit?

Only, like the Mr. Charles gambit, she would be alerting him to the strangeness of it all, putting her right back to predicament number one. Was the Inception the number one priority here, or was the new Extraction?

Extraction…Extract…Extractor…NEW EXTRACTOR!

Ariadne brought a hand to her head. She had completely forgotten about the fact that one of her students was right now under, with Arthur, experiencing a dreamscape designed to introduce them to the world of the dream- to bring them in, let their mind fill it, let them get a feel for it, before Arthur would send them down another level to run mazes within mazes and a system of paradoxes that ultimately dead ended right where they started- a test, to see how the Extractor could handle challenges, and focus under pressure.

She sucked in a deep breath. This was her test. Having an inside pass to Fischer could be very valuable. And if that wasn't a good enough reason for Arthur, well then….

She would come up with something. She was the best architect in the world- that had to count for something. He had given her an invite into his private world.

She had seen enough spy movies to know how this could possibly work (and knowing Eames, how it probably would, because it meant he wouldn't have to switch off genders for once) and she knew it would involve asking him out for drinks and slipping in a sedative.

Fine. Whatever. She could do that. It wasn't really unethical, was it? I mean, he invited her, but he didn't really know her. He should know better.

It was a company event. She worked for the company.

It wasn't like she was going to rape him or something- they were just going into his subconscious briefly. Momentarily. Hardly at all. They weren't even screwing up his life and changing the very core beliefs he functioned on.

Maybe…he likes dreaming? She tried, one last time, but her excuses and reasons kept sounding weaker and feebler. How was that even possible?

But then she remembered Arthur- how determined he was to get her out of this. How Eames couldn't even muster his usually snarky presence. Yusuf was probably dead. One of her college students was supposed to help them break into the mind of someone trained to resist. And not even a grad student. One of her first semester intro students.

She had to do whatever the team needed. Eames had tried to tell her earlier, with the strip club, but she'd never fully comprehended it. You couldn't be uncomfortable with this stuff- you couldn't react at all. You had to bury yourself inside, and just be whatever they needed you to be on the outside.

Ariadne had never felt more in tune to the Forger and the Point Man in her life. She was used to their presence, their expertise, their crisp professionalism and brilliant work. She had never realized how they had been actively working to be like that- they'd practiced for years. She had known Arthur's stoic silences couldn't be completely him, but she had never realized until this epiphany just how much she had to give up to dream.

Was that the price she would have to pay for them coming back? Because a machine, a stone-cold agent of espionage? Would she have to give up her sliding morals and slippery ethics?

If it was, she could do that. She would have to. From her understanding, Architects really weren't that vital a part of the team- all prep and hardly action, unless they were needed to hold the dream while everyone else went down a second level. But she was more than an Architect, just like Eames was more than a Forger, and Arthur was more than a Point Man.

She would not become Cobb, not being able to handle sacrifice and change. She would suck it up and accept that her name was ironic, and that she really was Ariadne leading her boys through mazes.

"That does sound like fun," She said, smiling at the waitress as she delivered their orders. "I've never been to a charity gala before."

"Well, now you can cross it off your bucket list," Fischer said, smiling. The two continued to chat about small talk –the weather, tourist attractions; the small things two strangers could discuss without raising suspicion or being intrusive, but it was mostly Ariadne, because Fischer had said he worked too much to know a lot about Paris- while they enjoyed the bright Paris sunshine and the delicacies the café had to offer.

Inside, Ariadne didn't know how much more she could take. She needed to get to the warehouse, now. Eames hadn't shown up, she didn't know how to leave without raising suspicion, she couldn't get a hold of Arthur….all she needed now was for Mal to show up and stab her repeatedly in the gut some more.

"Well," She said carefully, pursing her lips as she wondered how to phrase this correctly…."I have an appointment this afternoon, and I should probably start heading that way."

Fischer looked up from his coffee. "I should probably go and get back to work too-we're putting some assets into the market today and I want to be able to track them as they go. There's a 2.5 billion dollar deal on the table, and then…" He paused and shook his head like he was clearing it. "I'm sorry," He said sincerely. "I talk about work too much. I didn't used to be like this. But then…after my father's death… it just seemed to take over my life." He gestured for the waitress to get the check and then stood up, patting his pockets several times. "Ah-here," He drew out an expensive card from his breast pocket, all creamy paper and bold blue lines- his name, phone number and email in hard black letters.

Ariadne got to her feet as well, thanking him for the card. The two walked in silence for a few minutes, stopping on the street corner where they had first met. (For the second time, Ariadne thought to herself, remembering how she had eyed him on the plane nervously until Arthur had put a hand on her shoulder, thumb soothing circles into her collar bone.)

"Call me," He said sincerely, stooping in and kissing her softly on the cheek. "I'd like to see you again."

He smiled at her and eased into the crowd, walking down the street in the other direction, as nonchalant and self-confident as ever.

"There she is," Eames called loudly, greeting her as she opened the warehouse door –in silence- and walked over toward the tableau in front of her –in silence-. "I was all prepared to help you out, but then you seemed fine and I had to get back to the warehouse to wake them up. How was it?"

"How was what?" Arthur said groggily, sitting upright. He eyed the business card clutched in her hand and his eyes popped out. "Did-"

"He didn't recognize her." Eames informed him.

"Well then good job Ari-Ariadne?"

She kept walking, over to her desk. She sat down hard, face still expressionless. Rie stirred from the lawn chair, Eames and Arthur moving to reassure her, but neither gaze shifted from the Architect. Wordlessly, Ariadne drew her bishop from her pocket and tipped it over.

She did it again.

And again.

And again.

"...Um?" Rie asked. Arthur looked up to Eames.

"Is she alright?" He asked lowly. Rie was gazing, wide-eyed, as the bishop continued to be knocked over. Eames cocked his head to one side, studying the Architect.

"I think so." He said lightly. Eames took this opportunity to head towards the front of the warehouse. The beautiful blonde still had twenty minutes left in her shift- he could make that. Maybe even convince her to join him. He felt Arthur's eyes following him, no doubt hearing the vague note of I-know-something-you-don't-know in his answer. "He probably just kissed her or something."

Arthur's head shot back to Ariadne's so fast Rie flinched and fell off the armchair.