Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. After the lovely feedback I got, I decided to continue this.

Ariadne carefully measured out the coffee granules, not wanting to make it too strong. Arthur, she had noticed, liked his coffee black, but not bitter. She put the spoon in the mug, and poured on the hot water.

She'd offered to make him coffee, because, she told herself, she felt like it. Not because she wanted him to see her as a person, rather than "The Architect." She stiffened slightly. Would he see her as too subservient, too willing to please?

Stop it, she told herself, firmly. Her fantasises were in danger of warping her entire perspective. Picking up the mugs, she walked to his desk.

He was sitting with his head bowed over his laptop. The rays from the sun were catching his hair, making it gleam. She swallowed, and he looked up. "Hey."

"I, um, brought you this," she said, proferring the mug. "I thought you might like a pick me up."

He looked at it, his face crumpling in consternation. "Oh, Ariadne, thats really sweet of you, but I had one about 20 minutes ago."

Ariadne looked down into the mug, feeling crushed. He reached his hand out.

"I can always use another," he said, his tone kind. Blinking, she smiled and handed it over. His long fingers curled around the handle, and he placed it on the desk. Without another word, she turned, and hurried back to the basement.

You stupid, pathetic, immature- She cursed herself, trying not to think about the look on his face. Was it her imagination, or had it been the slightly exasperated look of a parent, whose patience had been fully tried? He probably thought of her as being like a silly little kid, she thought bitterly.

But in her dreams - he looked at her as though she were the most beautiful and fascinating creature alive. As though he were privileged to be near her, to touch her. She bit her lip. Dreaming about him wasn't wrong, she decided.

Especially as I have no chance in reality.

"Ariadne bring you that?" Arthur looked up. Eames had walked in, and pointed to the mug on the desk. He nodded. "Yes."

"Wish she'd bring one for me," the older man grinned. "You're obviously her favourite."

Arthur shrugged. "She's very sweet," he said, carefully, aware that anything he did say could get misinterpreted. "Very thoughtful."

"And..." Eames said, trying to goad him. Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Cute." The Forger nodded. "Very petite."

Arthur looked at his work. "Hadn't noticed," he mumbled, aware that the back of his neck was feeling warm. Eames nodded suggestively, got up, and left, leaving the Point Man to his work. As he left, Arthur picked up the coffee mug, a smile tugging his lips as he thought of how she'd made it for him.

"Cute?" he whispered to the mug. "No. She's lovely."

"You sure you want to do this?" he breathed. He was straddling her, her arms pinned above her head, her eyes covered with a blindfold.

"I'm sure," she whispered. "I trust you."

She felt his fingers flick delicately down her skin, causing her to shiver. As he began to nibble her neck, she felt the same vicarious thrill. This man - strong, composed, and authoratative - completely at her will.

"I want you to-" she whispered.

"Yes?" He responded, his voice slightly rough with desire. "What is it?"

"Make me yours," she responded. "Please."

"I can't refuse you," he whispered back. He leaned over, and-

She awoke, blinking, and turned to the PASIV sitting by her. Suppressing a feeling of regret threatening to explode in her chest, she started to pull the IV out.

She couldn't continue doing this - hiding downstairs, using the PASIV to fuel her desires. She knew that sooner or later, she would be discovered, and have to explain herself. She shivered. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing the scorn in Arthur's eyes, the amusement in Eames', or the anger in Cobb's. They wouldn't understand, any of them. Sighing deeply, she began to walk up the stairs.

At the top, she stopped in her tracks.

"So, you're seeing her again, then?"

"Yes."

"You dark horse!"

"Meaning?"

"Well, if one has a date, Arthur, they generally tell their friends about it!"

"Oh, you've moved yourself to the status of friend, have you?" There was a hint of amusement in Arthur's voice. Ariadne stiffened, wanting desperately to run and not to have to listen to this. It had never occurred to her that Arthur might - just might- be already involved with someone.

"Its not a date." The matter of factness in his voice caused her heart, in danger of falling into her boots, to soar again. "Its a business meeting."

"But," Ariadne could hear the slyness in the Forger's voice. "She's good looking, right?"

"You could say that." Arthur's tone was casual. Ariadne blinked, desperate to hear Arthur's assessment of this mysterious woman's looks.

"What does she look like?" Eames' tone was wheedling.

"Not telling." She heard a snap, and realised the Point Man was shutting his lap top. "I have to go." Ariadne listened, and realised that she needed to hide, before she was caught. Thinking quickly, she hurried down the staircase, hiding in the small alcove by the door.

She was lucky. The shadows masked her, and before too long had elapsed, Arthur had hurried past. Thinking quickly, and trying to stay at a distance, she began to follow him. He crossed the street, and followed the road. Gathering her pace, she copied him.

Before half an hour had elapsed, she noticed he was approaching a bar. It looked trendy, and expensive. Biting her lip, she waited until he had entered, then entered herself.

She spotted him immediately. He was standing with a woman, who, she noticed, had leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She felt her heart lurch.

Arthur's dismissal of her as "good looking" did not do her justice. She was gorgeous. Tall, with dark hair swept back and with a perfectly structured face, she could have passed for a model. Ariadne felt her self-confidence dissolve as she studied her. She may have been a "business meeting," but a woman like that, and he was a man...

Ariadne couldn't bear it. She turned, and began to hurry out of the building. She was no match for a woman like that, or for Arthur. You're so ordinary, plain and ordinary. Trying to see clearly out of vision that was becoming blurred with tears, she left for her own apartment. All she had left, she surmised, were her dreams.

Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!