Paris in the spring was like a clear replica of an overly photo shopped postcard. Bright yet pale pink flowers hung from trees, threatening to release their petals upon random and unsuspecting pedestrians. The gentle pieces of the large, attention grabbing flowers decorated the usually grey sidewalks, and added life to the already blooming city. A city that was up to its neck with tourists and photographers; the crowded corners proved her point.

Surely they all had homes they could go to; or appointments they should tend to? Did they have to stand in the middle of the walk way with their large overrated smiles and optimistic gleams in their eyes? Ariadne nearly scoffed. If only they all knew. This was all an illusion. True happiness didn't exist, and if it did care to make itself present, it was only temporary. It would walk into your life; spring it to high peaks and leave you broken and bruised on the inside.

With her hands dug deep into her coat pocket, she manoeuvred her way through the irritating crowd with their buoyant personalities. She didn't need smiles right now, nor did she need their radiating happiness. She wanted to sulk in private and somehow blow off all this steam. Her blood was boiling at high speed and her head ached. She blamed Arthur.

Cutting corners and slipping through hidden short cuts, Ariadne found herself on a street way she had travelled along countless times. Located in a secluded edge of the city of romance, it was the home of artists, musicians and crafts men; those who couldn't afford the rapidly rising home prices of the other side of town. Despite the fresh, sweet weather, the area was dark, a valley in between thick, stoned buildings.

It was the perfect location for a secluded warehouse.

Tightening the jacket over her body, Ariadne strolled closer to the familiar work space. She was torn between wanting it to be empty and for it to be filled. More than anything she sought silence and serenity; the first being more likely than the latter. She wanted to dwell in her agony, to throw herself into the work she loved so dearly. Her previous conversation with Arthur refused to let that happen though. Anger only swelled within her, adding fuel to the fire blazing in her heart. He really was set out on conflicting her with agony, wasn't he? Wasn't it bad enough he had stole a major dream of her away from her? Swept in and burglarize it from within in her just as she had begun to love it?

But the fact that he wanted her to sit this assignment out; to leave her in the sidelines as a large and potentially life changing assignment went down, that was betrayal. It just added to the heart wrench.

Yes. She could understand where he was coming from, once she got past the need to throw something at his head. Surely, the work ethic and responsibilities of the job would surely be a difficult task to place upon a pregnant woman. It was the naked truth. Not to mention that, the dream world would mess with her mind and God knows, maybe the baby's as well. But she wasn't pregnant, nor did Arthur keep to his promise long enough to change that. There fore, she had no reason not to involve herself in what she had always been doing.

Her husband could kiss his hopes of her sitting out goodbye.

On the other hand, she desperately wanted to walk into the premises and be greeted by the faces of her team workers. She wanted – no, craved- their company more than anything. Distraction and maybe a smile or two were on the top of her wish list.

Pushing open the door of the warehouse, Ariadne inhaled a deep scent of coffee and freshly prepared bichon au citron, a well favoured pastry amongst the group. Looking up as she entered, the occupants halted their conversations as 3 pair of eyes took in her presence.

"Ariadne!" Eames' south London accent echoed over the metal workings and boomed across the room. His large body swiftly approached her, lifting her off her feet in embrace before dropping her gently back down. "I don't see much color on your face. Don't tell me the weather in Cannes disappointed. "

No, the weather hadn't. It was just hard to achieve any sort of tan when one remained in doors at all times. Considering all the activities she and Arthur had been interested in were conducted in and around the bedroom, the need to venture outdoors had been deemed unnecessary.

She gripped a pastry and bit into it to buy herself time conjure up an excuse. She wasn't very good at it. "Cannes was beautiful." She offered as a reply before looking around Eames broad body to catch a glimpse of their once been team leader. Cobb had grown, although not physically but emotionally. She could read it in his face. The usually crypt, hard edged eyes softened slowly; without flickering in every direction as she had watched him grow accustomed to doing. A slow, imperceptible curve played on his lips; relaxed much like the rest of his face and for once, agony –less. There was a different aura around him; a sense of calmness and patience. She felt her heart lift for him.

"It's good to see you again, Cobb." Approaching him, she gave into a small embrace, a nice change from the rough squeeze Eames had contoured on her.
"It's good to see you too, Ariadne." He raised a slow eyebrow. "Where's Arthur?"

She opened her mouth to tell him she had left him back at their home, amidst his prepared breakfast and her hasty huff, but fought against it instead. No need to spread the shame of her husband's rejection to the team. She was better without pitiful glances.
"He'll be around soon enough. He's probably on his way now."

Moving onto to Saito, she greeted her first employer in the same manner she had greeted Eames and Cobb. But if their team leader had improved over the years, Saito had certainly worsened. Something she had noticed when she had first seen him in Cannes. Dark shadows under his eyes, deep wrinkles and an unsettling glaze in his eyes, it seemed that the millions he was constantly earning weren't agreeing with him. She had constantly heard the lines that associated power and wealth with troubles and problems, but she never assumed Saito would have ever become swept up in the lifestyle. He had always seemed smarter than that. One by one, all her assumptions about the men around her were dropping quicker than flies.

If he felt any awkwardness from having had seen her in a suggestive and mildly bondage position, he showed no evidence of it. Instead, he greeted her with personal professionalism, an ironic description she had come up to describe the Japanese power house.

"We shall wait for Arthur and than conduct business." Saito took a seat on four legged chair, signalling Cobb to the one next to him. Eames situated himself against a table, his legs positioned in front of one another and his arms crossed over his buff chest. If she weren't so acquainted with him, Ariadne would have easily ruled out the Brit as intimidating and dangerous. Looking around the room, the same could be noted to the rest of the men.

The only one she would have bothered to associate herself with, or even try to, was Arthur. Arthur with his gentle smile, intelligent demure and soothing voice; his welcoming presence but hard edged persona. Yes, he was the type of person that would have intrigued her right off the bat and did so. Funny that she would end up married to him and fighting off all the emotions he arose in her.

Settling next to Eames, with her lower hips pressed against the table, she leaned back gently and comforted herself before Eames' loud voice announced the arrival of another team-mate. "Well, look who we have here." Arthur pushed open the warehouse door, stepping in just a gulf of air left her lungs. "Leave it to you to make an entrance."

She fought back the small sound that rose in her throat- a sound driven by the heat that suffused her body and insinuated itself along her nerve ending in curling tendrils of pain. Deep emotional pain. Would this be the reaction every time she laid eyes on him?

He had forgone an unusual stubble for the day's meeting, although he had slicked back his glossy dark hair off his almost too perfect face, its length finishing just at his nape. He'd bee due for a haircut soon enough. Any other man would have looked ridiculous, but on Arthur…Ariadne groaned and shook off the sensual thoughts that came rushing at her.

Her mind and body were at war, unable to agree on a specific reaction when it came to him. Her body, as it had always been, instantly sprung to life at the mere sound of his voice, let alone the sight of him in person. Rapid heart beats, sweaty palms and never ending fantasises; he transported her back to her high school days like she was encountering her first crush. But there was no denying the state her heart was in. The limb, numb pain that surrounded it like a flooded island got more intense with every passing second. Watching him now was just a small reminder of the tears that she had slept with last night and the fury she had awoken with that morning.

So, there was a chance. Maybe her mind and body could actually make peace.

Refusing to watch as he greeted Cobb, Ariadne found entertainment in her chipping nails. Picking at the non-manicured pecks, she rubbed the tips as the sounds in the background faded away; or so she had hoped. Ignoring the point man was proving to be a bit more difficult than situated, especially since it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She needed a reminder, a constant repetition to prove to her body that this man wasn't worth it; that he hadn't taken her feelings into consideration leaving no excuse for her to pay him any mind. The conversation from that morning replayed in her head.

Blood instantly boiled, and her heart squeezed in her chest. Faint breaths escaped her and Ariadne was sure at some point she had clenched her fist. Bingo.

"Where's Yusuf?" She asked, in hopes of distracting herself. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"He'll be arriving in town a week from today. I'll brief him personally." Cobb announced, before turning to Saito. "Shall we get started?" Her husband took the opportunity to settle himself into a chair right by the team leader.

The business tycoon leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. "I've landed myself in a bit of a…difficult situation. I can't deny I've had tremendous success over the years but one wonders where all of this will go once I pass away."

Ariadne shuddered at the mention of death. Saito took no notice and continued. "I've worked long and hard to create an empire but I need to turn it into a legacy. It's been haunting my dreams for months on end now and I simply cannot ignore it anymore."

"Where do we come in?" Eames probed.

"My son, Jiro, has shown reluctance to even associate himself with the business. He's favoured towards arts and theatre." He spat out the words as if dirt. Ariadne quickly found herself offended, but kept her mouth shut. Quickly looking up, she caught sight of Arthur with a disgusted look on his face that matched her feelings.

"I want to hire you to do exactly what you did to Fischer, but the idea is to make him want to take over the business, instead of tearing it apart." Saito said with a calm demur.

"You want us to perform Inception on your own son?" Ariadne could barely believe her ears. He wanted them to invade his own child's mind, to mess and play around with his thoughts and passions as if it were a simple toy. Surely, he had learned from their first mission that this was no fun and games; that the stakes were high and one wrong slip could ruin his son for life.

And that the fact that he wasn't willing to accept his own offspring for what they were; for what they loved enraged her. So what if his son enjoyed the arts? It was far more entertaining and rewarding than sitting behind a desk all day, that she could agree. But Saito was set out to change him; a boy he had taken part in creating. She was so disgusted with the situation she felt nauseated.

"How could you do this to him?" She accused the baffled mogul, enraged. "Have you even bothered to talk to him? Has that crossed your mind or have you been too busy being selfish and thinking of your legacy?"

Flustered but attempting to regain control, Saito spoke softly. "Jiro is not one to be told what to do. Speaking would serve no use. I was impressed with what you did with Fischer. Making it out to seem like he gave himself the idea was brilliant." Beside her, Eames grinned. "It is exactly what is needed for my son's case."

"I want nothing more than to see him happy. While he is enjoying himself right now, a career in this field will only prove to be difficult, unpleasing and less than stable when it comes to earnings. No child of mine will ever have to worry about money. It seems ridiculous for him to turn down the company that has been my life for something else. He will realize it. I just prefer it be sooner than later."

Standing still and listening to him talk was irritating Ariadne more than she was willing to let on. If she were lucky enough to be blessed with a child, the last thing on her mind would be to change them. Unique and different were how she imagined her children to be and doing anything but embracing it wasn't unacceptable. Her heart went out to Jiro. How did he feel knowing his father was displeased with him? That he was against his hopes and wishes to the extent where he was willing to hire a group of stranger to conceive his dreams? She burned with a fire equivalent to lava. Did Saito even acknowledge love for his son? She was scared to think of the answer.

What was it with these men and putting their jobs and occupations before their families? Why were they so quick to drop all other responsibilities and the well being of others for even the slightest opportunities to help push their careers along? Was all else that un-important? Had love really taken the back road to success? What happened to the days when love was the biggest success?

So many questions and all she had was pain in answer.

She opened her mouth, eager to Saito the third degree; maybe even throw one in at Arthur for her heart's satisfaction. She didn't get far though. The room suddenly tilted, nearly throwing her off her feet.

Whoa, she thought, gripping the table behind her to steady herself.

"You okay, sweetie?" Eames hesitated in front of her, slowly unfolding his arms to reach for her. Across the room, Arthur's head whipped up to watch her with a burning gaze.

Ariadne swallowed back against the butter bile that risen in her throat as the dizziness had hit, and took a steady breath.

"I'll be fine. I think those bichon au citron upset my body though." She gestured to the now empty plate that had contained the pastries. "Anyone else feeling weird?"

Eames studied his face before turning to the rest of the group. "Now that you've mentioned it, my stomach has been rumbling just the slightest."

Arthur raised a brow at him, questioning whether he was serious or not, before walking over to them. Ariadne fought back the urge to glare at him.

He halted only once he was standing in front of her, close enough for his breath to fall onto her face. He reached over and brushed the pad of his thumb gently across the dark tint of skin beneath her eyes.

She flinched, breaking the tenuous contact almost as soon as it had begun.

"Drink some water, it should help." Reaching behind her he retrieved a closed bottle of crystal clear liquid and handed it to her. Where the hell had those come from?

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rightful advice, she waited till he had returned to his seat and settled down before opening the bottle and bringing it to her lips. The cool liquid was much needed and a relief to her hydrated body. Downing it all, she settled the empty bottle behind her and released a cool breath. Much better.

Now if only there a solution just as easy when it came to dealing with difficult men.

"Let's all give this some thought." Cobb spoke up. "We'll all regroup in a bit." He shuffled out of his seat quickly, his phone out of his hand in an instant as he headed for the door.

Arthur was just as quick on his feet as he signalled for Eames. "You. Back room. Now."

"My, my. You get straight to the point, don't you Arthur?" The forger followed suit, but not before winking at her. "Don't get jealous now, love. I promise to be easy on him."

Not bothering to surpass her groan, Ariadne's brown eyes followed the two men, Eames in his easy steps and Arthur's quick but jolted stomps. They entered a room in the very back, one that had been Arthur's work place for past assignments. Hushed whispers outlined with an angry tone was all she could make out, but it was enough to spark her curiosity. Was Arthur upset with Eames? If so, why? She would have presumed it would be the other way around, judging from the forger's protective manner over the years.

Yet another disappointment. She was so close to giving up on mankind; the male species in general. Not bothering to even acknowledge she was over reacting, she dropped into a chair, her arms crossed her chest and her eye lids dropping gently. Exhaustion and bodily aches were surfacing, most likely the effect of countless sex from the previous week. It was exactly what she needed. A punishment for indulging in something she wanted.

What in the world was wrong with her body?

Author's note: I like writing Ariadne in this manner, all uptight and over exaggerative. It's fun. I'm looking forward to dwelling more into her changing personality. On another note, thank you guys so much for the reviews and feedback. It astounded the amount of responses I got from the previous chapter and every single one made me smile in its own way. Your different view points were so wonderful to read. Again. Thank you. Keep on reviewing and if any of you have any questions, please feel free to hit me up on twitter Natashaledge.

Reviews are love. There can never be too much.