A/N: I'm so glad that so many of you reviewed. I wish I could just write out the entire plot of this story at once but I enjoy giggling like a little girl to read all your reviews, thinking that it's Ariadne who's dreaming. Hohoho...

Also, I like Arthur/Ariadne-almost as much as I like Dom/Mal. But this is a Dom/Ariadne story and I like that the most.

"Have you ever loved, Ariadne?

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever been loved?"

"I…I don't know."

"It is the most wonderful sensation and the most painful."

"I don't think I've experienced that yet, Dom."

"You'll find someone to love and be loved by and will understand me someday; understand…us."

"Dom…I,"

"You'll understand what it means to be a lover."

"Listen, please—"

"A half of a whole,"

"Dom!"

"And when you lose them—"

"Please, just be quiet and—"

"You'll cry,"

"—listen!"

"in agony—"

"You don't understand, Dom. I—"

"—as your heart breaks."

"Ah, you're here. Glad to see you showed up,"

There it was: That quirky smile.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. School was a bit tough today and I thought I'd try and get in a small nap to, you know, rest up so I could be all fresh and whatnot but it wasn't as small as I'd anticipated. Actually, it wasn't that long, truthfully, I just lounged around in my pajamas for a half hour 'cause I was lazy and I…kind of…forgot."

Ariadne grimaced, scrunching her face up in anticipation of a scolding. But Arthur just smiled and threw an arm over her shoulder as he began walking down the sidewalk, her small figure tripping slightly as she tried to keep up.

"You're cute when you ramble like that."

Blushing, Ariadne buried her chin in her scarf but couldn't stop herself from smiling wryly.

Sometimes, she thought, reality wasn't so bad.

"Well, what do you mean by 'it's not a good idea'?"

"Most likely, she'll have projections of us if she thinks her dream is real. Her subconscious would start tearing us apart immediately."

"So…why don't we just get Eames? He could just snap her out of it and she'll never see it coming."

"I don't think it's that simple and besides—I have no clue where he's gone to."

"…Neither do I."

"Let's just wait; she'll wake up eventually."

"How do you know?"

"I don't—but it happened before. So let's hope so."

Arthur shrugged, walking away to the end of the workshop to fiddle and tinker around with small bits of this and that lying about the space. Cobb chose to instead pull up a lawn chair of his own and, with nothing better to do, sit and wait.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere special. Why do you ask?"

"You're dressed so well and…am I underdressed?"

"You're fine,"

"Yeah…you're overdressed."

Arthur tossed his head in the air in mirthful laughter, wrapping is arm back around Ariadne's shoulder as he did. They began walking again and, for once, Ariadne didn't have to avert her eyes from everyone else; they weren't looking. She felt safe and real and, for some reason, thought that the feeling would last.

"She's still not awake," Arthur plainly stated as he walked up to the still seated Cobb. "Maybe she's just really, really tired."

"Yeah, maybe…"

Cobb sat up, running his eyes in frustration and an effort to stay awake.

"You should head on home; I'll stay the night—keep watch."

"Yeah…yeah, thanks."

Cobb stood up wearily, stretching muscles and cracking joints as he did. Looking down at the still sleeping Ariadne, Cobb wondered if he was overreacting—that there really was nothing wrong with her and she was just sleeping. Then, the thought of sleep overtook his senses and he thought, for a moment, to spend the night in the workshop, and sedate himself into a dream state. But his memory wouldn't let him; he remembered something more important.

"I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning. And Arthur…call me if anything happens."

"Alright, I will."

Cobb walked away from the two, his mind drifting from one thought to another. It wasn't until his mind came across one thought in particular that his stride slowed down just a bit. A small part of him wanted to turn around, to make sure she wasn't just asleep; to make sure she and Arthur had not played some sort of sick joke on him. But he didn't turn around.

He went home.

"I'm sure you're at least a bit familiar with this place."

"A bit? How could I possibly forget? The entire place blew up in my face."

Arthur pulled out a chair in a gesture for Ariadne to sit. A waiter came over, inquiring about drinks and suggesting the two of them order the house special. Arthur took the menus without offering a word other than "water" in return; Ariadne merely looked around her, awed by the familiarity and lost by the unfamiliarity.

"I thought Cobb said we should never recreate from memory; this is the exact same café from our first dream sharing."

"Cobb was always adamant about us following the rules because he was the one breaking them; besides, I'm sure there are small details, here and there, that are different—or the same."

Arthur smiled, eyes crinkling in mirth as he looked at Ariadne before glancing down at his menu. Ariadne found it contagious; the way his eyes twinkled, how he was genuinely amused or happy. He made her feel secure, important—as though he looked at only her that way and that no one else knew that look. It was hers. But his words got to her and she found herself looking around at the small details that were either different or the same but found that she really couldn't focus on anything so minuscule. She tried to focus back on her menu, hoping she'd be able to let go of that niggling idea crawling around the back of her mind. She looked up, only for a moment, and realized the biggest difference between this reality and that dream—

"Are you ready to order?"

It was Arthur.

"Ah, yes, I'll have the…"

And not Cobb.

"And how about you, miss?"

Not Dom.

"Curly fries."

The house was quiet when Cobb walked in. He trudged through the living room and managed to not disturb the sleeping Miles who appeared to have been waiting for him. A bit more conscious about his footsteps, Cobb tiptoed over to his kids' room and peeked in; they were sound asleep. He contemplated walking in, putting his hand over their heads, kissing them. But he resisted, walking away with steps heavier than before.

His bedroom was cold but he relished in the feeling of the air against his heated skin. It had been a long day and all he could think of on the drive home was collapsing onto the cold sheets of his bed. So, he kicked off his shoes, took a deep breath and fell onto his bed face first. It was as though his entire body had been ignited; even his breath felt too hot for his throat.

The welcomed chill of the bed soon died away as his body warmed the sheets. The urge to roll over and start anew was building but he couldn't find the strength to actually do so.

And so the fever carried him away into a deep sleep.

But it was not the sickness that alarmed him, but the fact that he was dreaming.

"I have a bit of a confession to make."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"I…when we first met, that is…"

"Just tell me, Ariadne."

"I thought you were…"

"I was…"

"Attractive."

"Attractive?"

"Y-…Yes. Attractive."

"I'm flattered."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Is that all?"

"No…there's more."

"Did you think I was charming, too?"

"No…well…when we first met—when we first shared a dream…no, the second time…your wife came and stabbed me. I thought she was your ex wife."

"Ariadne…"

"And a part of me was extremely happy—"

"What are you—"

"—because I thought I'd have a chance."

"Stop, just—"

"—but then Arthur told me she died…and then I almost gave up."

"You shouldn't—"

"Because I knew that meant you still loved her—"

"Ariadne, listen—"

"—and part of you always will."

"Stop, please, just stop—"

"And now, I understand."

"Ariadne?"

"And I'll cry—"

"You have to stop—"

"in agony—"

"You were right, Ariadne, I—"

"—as my heart breaks."