A/N: I'm back! I think this has been the longest gap between updating for this story, surprisingly enough. I hope the wait wasn't too bad, and you enjoy this next chapter. :)

52.

They sat there for a long time, Arthur with his arms around Ariadne as she buried her face in his shirt and kept her eyes tightly closed. He wondered just what she was thinking about, and thought it highly likely to be her memories of 'reality', now that they had seemingly come back to her. As for the Point Man, he was doing what he did best – formulating a plan, this time to get them out of Limbo for good.

After a while Ariadne pulled back and looked up at Arthur, appearing to study him for some time before speaking. 'You know, you broke your promise to me,' she said softly.

Arthur swallowed and grimaced at her. 'Which one?'

There had been so many vows he had made, to various people over the last ... was it a week now? He couldn't remember.

'When you said you'd never kiss me in a dream again.'

Arthur stared at her, his eyebrows raised. How on earth has she managed to remember that?

'You're right,' he said, nodding. 'I'm very sorry. It'll never happen again.'

'That's what you said last time,' Ariadne smirked, absent-mindedly stroking his arm. 'And now look where that's got us.'

Arthur smiled back at her and wondered how he could possibly feel so content sitting on the Penrose Steps in the middle of a dream-Paris in the depths of Limbo. Not to mention the fact that he was now nearer twice his real age and had developed crow's feet around his eyes. He thought he was beginning to understand how Mal had felt – how she had been so willing to accept Limbo as her reality, enough to want to stay there forever with the man she loved, indulging in every possible method of creation until her artistic thirst was finally quenched.

Sitting under the bright sunshine, the wind tousling his thinning hair, holding the woman he had spent half a lifetime trying to find – it was almost idyllic. A life he could almost get used to.

Ariadne reached up and quite unexpectedly ran her slender hand through his hair. He jerked back, the movement instinctive rather than reactive. Ariadne pouted at him, her petulant expression enough to make him chuckle.

'Oh, come on,' she whined. 'I just wanted to feel what your hair was like without all that gel stuck in it. It's all nice and fluffy now.'

'You sound like a woman a quarter of your age,' Arthur retorted. 'Perhaps even younger than your real self.'

Ariadne slapped him on the arm and turned away. 'Don't remind me,' she huffed. 'I don't want to think about how I've got to live out this life again and grow old a second time. Once was enough.'

Arthur leant closer to her once more, his mouth mere inches away from her right ear. 'At least next time you won't have to do it alone.'

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly, before breaking out into a smile. It was, in effect, yet another promise from him. But he had kept his last one, hadn't he? He had searched – for years – until he found her. He had followed her under to bring her back. After failing to protect her in the first place. The thought niggled his mind, as it had done every day since she had been taken from the airport; every day up top, and every day in Limbo, too. It had haunted the usually-unflappable Point Man, more than he had dared to admit.

'I'm sorry,' he said suddenly. Ariadne gave him a quizzical look. 'For everything. This,' he waved his around in front of him. 'It's my fault. Yes, it is,' he insisted as she opened her mouth to protest.

Before he could continue she had her finger on his lips, silencing him. 'I don't need any more reminding of my old life – my real life,' she murmured. 'You may not remember it, but we've had this conversation once before, a long time ago. In fact, it was just after I came out of Limbo for the first time. And I told you then what I'll tell you now – it's not your fault. Things happen. Shit happens.' Arthur felt himself smile against his better judgement. 'I mean, what is it with you Extractors and your ridiculous obsession with guilt? One would think you'd be used to it all by now.' She shook her head, as though disapproving of his outburst. 'When we get out of here, none of it will matter. And yes, I mean when – I trust you, Arthur. I always have.'

Arthur bowed his head, humbled by her words. It was strange, really, how much they had all changed since the Inception. He would never have doubted himself back then; he once had complete confidence in his ability to get things done, no matter the circumstances. And Ariadne – she had always been spirited, strong-willed, even headstrong, and yet had seemed to lose some of that during the week of their captivity. Understandably so, of course. They had been through so much – more than they could ever have anticipated after such a gruelling job. He had been expecting a rest, some downtime, not to be hauled into the most dangerous situation he had ever faced.

And yet, here they were. Sitting on the Penrose Steps in the middle of a dream-Paris in the depths of Limbo. The wind tousling his thinning hair. He holding the woman he had spent half a lifetime trying to find – the woman, he could now admit to himself, that he had gradually fallen for. He had fought against the idea during that week in the warehouse, telling himself he had more important things to think about – like how to rid themselves of the threat of Denley and get out of there alive.

But now ... there was nothing else in the way. Just the two of them, sitting there together, lost in their thoughts of the other.

He told himself not to think too far ahead – to just live in the moment, as atypical as that was of him. He was used to planning every detail of his life far in advance, preparing himself for the next job. But right now, he couldn't tell what was going to happen, how they would make this work back in the real world. All that mattered was that they would try, and try their best.

'We should go back,' Ariadne muttered. Arthur hadn't noticed her hand on his, her thumb gently grazing his knuckles. 'They might start to worry.'

Arthur snorted. 'I doubt Eames ever worries about anything,' he said.

'No, probably not,' Ariadne replied.

Arthur stood up, dusted down his trousers and offered her his hand. She took it, gripping it tightly. Arthur smiled when she didn't let it go, and lead the way back down the stairs. It was then he noticed the absence of his younger double and paused briefly, staring at the spot the projection had been standing earlier. Ariadne appeared to be doing the same, though she said nothing. She simply gave his hand a quick squeeze and pulled him away, back down the street toward the café. Eames' words came back to him, drifting across his thoughts as they walked in silence: 'He's the man she needs you to be. But that's not who she wants you to be.'

Well, he could be both, he decided. The rational, efficient protector (he would fufil that role this time, if need be) she needed as well as the friend and – he hoped – lover that she wanted. He had already changed so much because of – and most importantly for – her. And he found that he didn't mind. He liked the changes she had affected in him. Perhaps unwittingly she had made him realise how dull his life had been, how closed-off he was with everyone, and how much he yearned to make an emotional connection with someone again. Yes, it had been difficult after his family's deaths, but he knew now that he had to take the bad with the good – to overcome the lows of any relationship so that he could revel in the highs.

At the core of it all, he supposed he just didn't want to be alone anymore. He was fed up with moving from one job – and person – to the next with nothing but boredom in between. Perhaps he should take some time out, to reflect on everything that had happened and consider the future – as he had done so long ago, after the Cavendish job. Perhaps he should follow Cobb's example and retire from Extraction, at least for now? It would be the smart thing to do, he knew.

There was so much to contemplate; he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around it. So he simply clung to Ariadne's hand, to the promise of a new life that she offered. He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her slender fingers curled through his, the warmth that radiated between them at that small point of contact. He would cherish these small moments for now.

The rest could wait.

A/N: Okay - I think I should have this story finished before my next day at uni on Thursday. That's my aim, at least. And perhaps at least another chapter up today, as I'm taking it relatively easy after rather hectic days at uni Thursday and Friday. So be on the lookout soon!