Part 6- Mac N' Cheese

After a torturously long shower the change of clothes was refreshing-the sweatshirt and boxers did little to warm her but they certainly were comfy. Snatching the brush off the countertop Ariadne ran it through her hair one last time, any knots destroyed in the process. Placing the brush down she examined herself. Her hair was an undulating, luminous brown that lay a couple inches past her shoulders. The sweatshirt she wore was grey with long sleeves that covered the numerous puncture marks Cobb had noticed earlier. Recalling the incident made her remember the message he'd left on her phone the day after the Inception job-the one she couldn't bring herself to answer.

*Beeeep* Ariadne…I know I'm not supposed to be calling you, I've told all of us to not contact the other unless there's an emergency, but…I just wanted to say that you did a great job out there. The idea about the multiple kicks and saving Fisher-that was great. If it wasn't for you I may have never gotten home, and…I needed too. For my children….

There was a long pause over which he spoke none at all-it had made her anxious.

And I'm sorry for what you saw down there, in Limbo. It's my fault you had to go down there; I promised to Miles you would never get that deep and at the time I meant it. You never were supposed to go that deep…just please promise me you won't do what I did. Stop dreaming, as fast and as best as you can. All of it. You saw what happened down there and you know when you're that far gone…there's no getting away from it.

Another long pause, a clearing of the throat.

Stop dreaming. Call me back when you get this and at least tell me that you're stopping. I just don't want you to get hurt…Call me when you get this. That'll be the last time we'll ever talk, I promise. Call me.

For obvious reasons, she couldn't answer. Of course, she'd tried school for a very, very short time. For one week she had attempted to return and learn at Paris' School of Architecture-it was awful. Her reflection visibly shuddered at the many hours she had barely survived through class, her thoughts always turning back towards dreaming. She couldn't escape it then, and no way in hell was she getting out of it now. She loved creating palaces, whole countries, when she was asleep, too much to quit…but that doesn't mean there wasn't any downsides to her recent addiction.

Her eyes traveled down the length of her reflection until she caught sight of the bright pink boxers that kissed her hip bones-it wasn't her style, usually-but her constant dreaming had left little time to do laundry, and they were the only thing available to cover her lower half at the moment. Luckily, Eames and Arthur didn't even suspect, that she knew of, and coming out like this would be fine. Cobb knew-but she would never give him anything to lead on. The memory of Cobb's flaring blue gaze followed her out into her adjoining bedroom.

As she walked over to the door a voice started up behind it that made her jump.

"Are you coming out anytime soon, luve? Is it those nasty bandages-I could help with them. Wouldn't take me long at-"

"Do you ever think before you speak?" Arthur's hiss was audible, even through the wood of the door.

"Of course I do." Eames teased-even though Ariadne wasn't present to watch this little back and forth she could practically feel the tension piling up behind the cherry wood-and generally wanting to avoid a fight, she walked out.

Eames had been facing the door but now he was turned towards Arthur, who looked PO-ed beyond relief. It was if they'd been turned to statues-in half a second Arthur bent his head, shaking it back and forth before glancing up again. Upon hearing the door open Eames whipped around-his gaze didn't miss her outfit. Sliding his eyes up and down her body with ease he grinned cheekily. "Not the most flattering outfit, but with all that leg showing I'm tempted to change my mind…nice color by the way." His eyes finally found her face-they were the color of fir trees on fire.

Ariadne nodded, feeling self-conscious; they were just PJs to her, and she hadn't thought they were all that revealing-it wasn't like her body was the hottest anyway. Rubbing her arm in a sudden moment of exposure she grinned weakly, feeling light-headed for a moment-she supposed it was the blood-loss. She also supposed it was the blood-loss that made her look past Eames and to Arthur, whose eyes ran over her quickly, once-before he lowered his gaze, turned away, and headed back to the kitchen in order to finish the dish-cleaning he had started.

Her breath came out in a packed huff and Eames eyes seemed to dull, as if he was thinking hard about something. Turning he followed her gaze-alarmed at how quick he had caught on she looked away from Arthur's retreating figure, but it was too late. A brief flash of a smile skipped across the Forger's face before it fell, as he turned back to Ariadne. He kept his voice at a low volume, jovially stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hmm, so Ariadne has the hots for our Point-Man?" He followed the quip with a sneaky grin-her cheeks practically burst into flame.

Flustered she blinked hard, her face freezing over. Not true at all-Arthur was a co-worker and a friend, and at the moment his 'friendliness' didn't seem to extend to her. But he had pulled the bullet from her wound; come racing when she called…that had to mean that she meant something to him, right? But his cold back was facing her, denying all form of the word 'friends'. She met Eames eyes, her brown eyes blistering.

"Of course not, Eames." She whispered back, her voice tinted with a sharp edge despite the smoothness of her words. "I'm just feeling…" she trailed off. He raised his eyebrows at her empty stare. "Feeling hungry." She finished. Eames eyebrows stayed raised but he nodded. "Alrighty then, me too. 'Sbout bloody time you said something about it-what do you have, dear?"

A few minutes later found Ariadne face down, a gooey, mellow orange substance in her line of vision. "I never thought of you as a Mac n' Cheese girl. You and Arthur have such similar tastes for the delicate things in life I never would've thought." Eames jab at Arthur was wasted at the moment-as soon as they had planned on cooking he'd promptly exited the apartment along with Cobb, both claiming that they needed to discuss things dealing with the new job. Ariadne ignored the comment-stirring twice she set a timer, turning her back on the pot so she could rest against the oven, arms crossed.

"Have you just recently lost your hearing dear or are you giving me the cold shoulder?" Ariadne looked up at Eames, who was leaning on the kitchen's black marble island a few feet away. Ariadne smirked at him, her only answer, or lack of one, scorching the tip of her tongue. "Who's Lacey Bishop?"

Eames smile faltered at the name, the fun in his eyes disappearing- and suddenly he was staring down on her very seriously. "Honestly, luve? You don't want to know." That lit Ariadne up like a fire-cracker-she was getting annoyed by how many people were telling her what to do. "Tell me!" She demanded, sitting up straighter, striding over to him. Leaning back in order to look at him did little to dim her fury-she rapidly began poking his chest with fazers set on rapid fire. "I'm-(poke) tired-(poke)-of-(poke)-"

"Dammit woman! You're ruining my fine apparel!" exclaimed Eames, jumping out of the way of her vengeful fingers. She continued anyway, her voice raised and aimed at him with ruthless determination."-people telling me what to do! Just tell me who she is already!" Eames seemed shocked temporarily, before he recovered, his usual pleasantries resuming. "Never thought you were the yelling type, luve. Always thought you knew better." Ariadne dodged his pathetic attempt to change the subject. "Who. Is. She." It was a demand now, something that had to be answered. For a second Eames was indecisive-but it didn't take long for him to get over it. He assumed his earlier position against the island before continuing. "She's a Forger." He paused, assessing how well Ariadne downloaded this before moving on. "She's almost as good as me, but not quite. She's rather sassy, cunning, and a great tease. Someone who's really fun to hang out with, most of the time-except when she sees Arthur, then its all down to hell…" Ariadne's expression hardly changed-"Who is she to Arthur?"

Eames seemed to weigh the consequences of telling her once again-but then admitted: "She's Arthur's ex. They were a serious awhile back. How that she-devil ever fell for the likes of Arthur I'll never know…"

Ariadne's heart sank to her feet-so this was what the team knew, that she didn't. It was even worse knowing it now-it was if a rug had been pulled out from underneath her feet. Arthur had an ex? Everyone knew her? And not to mention she sounded like she was everything Ariadne was not, and-why was this even bothering her? It wasn't like the team didn't need a great Architect-this Lacey couldn't provide to the team what Ariadne herself did. Eames was watching her reaction openly, studying her every facial feature with soft eyes. The only thing she could do was nod-her face felt stretched, as if she had done too much that day and it was coming down on her now. Her light-headedness started up again-she wavered slightly on her feet and Eames grabbed her arm in order to keep her upright. "Steady there, Ariadne. We need your little architect self in perfect condition." He was gripping her arm now, looking down on her with surprising tenderness. "These bandages are a little too tight…" she mumbled-he nodded discreetly, accepting her whimsy excuse. Just then Cobb and Arthur returned, the door slamming behind them.

"Yusef will be here tomorrow." Cobb announced, cramming a silver flip phone back into his jeans pocket. Eames looked up at their entrance, exclaiming, "Great! I miss the man!" before taking a quick, desperate look at Ariadne as she began falling forward once again. Graciously attempting to cover up the situation he allowed his grip to climb higher up her arm so as in order to giver her more support. Glancing over at Eames both men noticed Ariadne's weak condition-Eames was practically holding her up. Cobb's eyebrows pressed in on his forehead in worry-"Ariadne, you okay?"

Arthur was more subtle. "Eames, maybe Ariadne needs some rest-"

"I'm fine, Arthur." Arthur's comment seemed to push her-she stood up, tearing her arm away from Eames. As if to defy her point her body swayed once again, hardly able to stand on its own two feet. She bit back a hard groan, her stomach aching with all its might. With all the defiance in the world she glared at Arthur:

"I'm fine." Her voice was deadly, dripping with danger.

Cobb, stupefied by Ariadne's unusually harsh reaction, grew even more worried, the ice in his eyes melting in sympathy. Eames waited for Arthur's reaction-and Arthur didn't disappoint. With a face devoid of all emotion his shadowy eyes met her gaze evenly. It burned her-the way he was looking at her, it caused her pain, because he was stabbing her by not speaking, by not showing any inch of warmth towards her.

"Ariadne, you need rest. Go to bed."

Ariadne literally deflated-her posture weakened, the spark in her eyes running away as he looked down on her from across the room. And then, without another word, she walked very purposely to her bedroom, shut the door, crammed a few pills in her mouth, and fell upon her bed. Within minutes she was dead asleep, not dreaming of anything at all.

Outside her door, a voice could be heard.

"You've bloody well done it now, Arthur."