Author's Note: Here's that other chapter I said was coming. True, its not as long as some of the others, but I still love it all the same. Going to take the night and tomorrow to right a really good chapter for everyone now that things will, well, should, get going for real now. Let's see how many of you can keep up, eh?

Thanks to all the readers, people who favorite/alert, and those who review. Love you all to bits. And with those who review, at least I know you're all enjoying this and I'm not whispering to the wind, lol.

As always, enjoy and remember to leave a review!

Disclaimer: I own only my own plot.

Things were only getting worse for himself and his colleagues.

Several other reports of chilling nightmares had reached him and one by one, he collected the details, mapping them out in his neat script. Once he'd seen his hellish nightmare come to fruition and more tumbled in through connections, it was obvious someone was leeching on their deepest fears and distracting them.

But the biggest question still eluded an answer.

Who would want to terrify so many people?

And what did it accomplish?

Preying upon people's families, their strengths, weaknesses and twisting them into horrid caricatures of fear and self-loathing. It was driving many talented extractors, architects, and thieves, among others, to the brink of insanity.

Two had already committed suicide.

They'd buckled under the pressure of days without sleep and living with the constant shadow looming in the dreaded corner of their eye. Jaded people who'd barely barely bat an eyelash at violence had become afraid of their neighbor's lawn mowers and become enraged at the noise of humanity and cities.

He was running on three days no sleep now.

Because at this point, the only way they could block out the constant nightmares was by going under, sharing dreams. Which was dangerously addictive.

He'd originally recommended four days, but he soon found it made Ariadne flirt with the edge, Eames testy, and he'd become sloppy. The rate they were going was pushing it, but there was nothing else to be done.

Ariadne, afraid of the addiction, had refused the practice at first, saying she could just get used to the nights of ache. She soon found nothing could numb the pain the fears caused.

"It's almost worse than the physical injuries we get in dreams," she said one evening, not bothering to conceal the shiver of revulsion in her voice.

Their close-knit group became more so, taking small comfort in solidarity. Cobb would phone from time to time, checking in with the others.

"You all need to make sure not to let this affect your personal lives. Don't let the people outside the business in on what's bothering you. Try to act normal."

Later, Ariadne had made an astute remark. After he'd hung up, of course.

"Must be another experience thing for him... I feel bad for his kids."

They'd all stayed silent for a moment. None of them had really thought about the ripple effects like the ones Cobb warned of. They were all independent adults who, for the most part, lived for their jobs and selves, rather than others.

And now, at five am, Arthur found himself at his desk, a small lamp on to provide a soft glow for his aching eyes. For the last three hours, he'd been trying to compile the scenarios that lead up to each first experience.

For himself, he'd been watching over Ariadne and Eames as they'd slept. In those nine hours, he'd only had interaction with the two and the whimpering hotel personnel; their entire encounter lasting under two minutes.

Eames had been entertaining a favorite woman of his back home and had woken up alone. Something, he had said, that was odd. She'd never left willingly before.

Dom had taken his children to the beach for the day and let them enjoy the weather before they had to go to school a few weeks time from then. They'd then gone to a favorite restaurant if theirs before heading home.

Ariadne's was the most curious.

She'd had no contact with anyone the day before, other than meeting with the Dean of her university about graduation. She'd gone from her apartment, to the meeting, and back, the entire venture lasting under two hours. She'd made herself a light dinner and watched a few movies before turning in to what was soon to be a night of adrenaline and nerves.

The many hours of alert studying and attentiveness started weighing heavily on his back suddenly. The spot between his shoulders knotted up and he hissed in pain. Standing, he tried to stretch out the knots and think at the same time, hoping to keep his mind continuously thinking and running. For a moment, he pictured his mind as a well-oiled machine.

But suddenly, they became rusted from overuse and lack of oil and care.

Burn out.

"Why? Why? Why?" He grabbed his hair in frustration, tugging at the strands. He began to pace, staring at the pattern in the ceiling.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

What was missing? What?

Or.

Who.

"Who?"

"'Who' what?"

She let herself in and set her spare key on the table as she came into the room. Seeing her, Arthur let go of the grip he still held on his hair and dropped his arms to his side, frantic desperation oozing out of him.

All it took at this point was the small smile she always gave him.

She took his hand and nodded her head to the bedroom. Her let her lead with a sigh. She took him to the bed and gestured for him to sit. He slipped his shoes off as she deftly whipped his tie off him. He automatically laid back, waiting for her weight to join him on the mattress. He felt her smooth hand give him the familiar needle, letting him insert it.

"Are you ready?"

He nodded his assent, and turns on his side to watch her as she lays down and pushes the glowing button at the same time. They watch each others' eyes close.

She knows he'll tell her in their dream. Of his revelation.

Or the realization of damnation.

A/N: Now, at this point in the story, I want to hear everyone's ideas and theories. You guys have to have something by now! haha

Story recommendation this chapter: Footsteps by Aviala Ordali