This is my first fanfic, so please review and tell me what you think! its not very good, but I'm only thirteen so I'd love any constructive critism! Thanks! :)

Holly

Ariadne

You don't realise how big an impact something has made on you, until you find yourself sitting in your crappy apartment that is neglected and cluttered with drawings, staring dejectedly out the window, watching through the rain at the tiny specks that were the Parisians living their insignificant little lives.

I could feel the fat tears roll down my face. I could hear an old truck wheeze and spit past the apartment block. And I watched the excitement, the thrill, the glowing confidence I once felt, drain from my eyes. All that was left was an empty hollowness.

It's been five months, twenty seven days, and three hours since I saw the team. But who's counting? I thought dryly to myself. I could still distinctly remember each member; Cobb, a wide, open face with tortured, blue eyes and slicked back hair. Yusuf, rounded glasses and a mop of black curly hair that made his skin seem even darker. Saito, his critical eyes always slits in his oval face. Eames, a cheeky grin playing on the corners of his mouth, and warm, green eyes. And Arthur…

Arthur was always impeccably dressed. Perfect black suits, clean, crisp shirts and polished dress shoes. His hair was raven black, and was slicked back like Cobbs. He had a poker face of steel, but the kindest eyes I've ever seen. They were such a dark brown the looked like pits of endless black.

A shudder rippled down my spine, but it wasn't from the cold. Nevertheless, I wrapped the blanket even tighter around my torso.

"I'm afraid there is to be no contact for at least six months, for security purposes." Was the last thing Arthur said to me. He had smiled one of his rare smiles. His dimples were to die for. I had nodded and gave him one last departing glance. And then I strode down the corridor.

I don't know why I was so eager to leave. I suppose I was anxious to finish my degree in architecture, but, as I returned to my daily regime, I realised how dull my life had become. It made me sad to think that I had missed out on a chance to dream again.

I was desperate to become a god once more, to build masterpieces using only my hands. The power was almost over whelming. But it was gone, just like Arthur. And Cobb, Yusuf, Saito and Eames. Vanished into nothing but air. Along with the chance that I could've dreamt again.

I stood up angrily. Stop thinking like that! I scowled. This had to stop. All I did was mope around complaining how miserable my life is. I dug under a bunch of sketches for my old globe. When I found it, a new energy began to form in the pit of my stomach. I traced my fingers delicately over the plastic, feeling the ridges that divided each country. And then I stopped my careful touch.

Morocco. I smiled and let the word roll off my tongue. There it was in fine print. It might be nice to take a holiday. Get my mind off my bleak future. I phoned the airport almost immediately and booked a flight for tomorrow morning.

I grinned at the thought of leaving Paris. I wanted to see what the world had to offer. And this was my first step.

Two days later, I was sitting in a first class seat, watching Paris slip under me. I heaved a sigh of relief. I closed my eyes and tried to picture Morocco. This was the first time I'd ever even been near South America.

I fidgeted in my seat the whole way. Sleep was impossible, seeing as every time my eyes shut, all I could see was the airy warehouse that I worked in for only two and a half months.

Just as I began to nod off, the airhostess' voice rang through the speakers in Arabic. From what I could only guess, the plane would be landing soon.

Relief flooded through me as the plane stuttered to a halt and I jumped out. As I walked out of the doors, I could feel the immense humidity that surrounded me. Thank god I'd worn shorts.

When I strode through the airport, I searched for a cab. Eventually, a brusque man with a thick moustache threw my bags into the boot of the little Mini. We drove in silence, and after twenty five minutes, pulled up to a respectable looking hotel with palm trees lining the sides.

"Thanks." I muttered, and he nodded, looking completely bored.

When I trudged up to my suite, which happened to be up on the eleventh floor, I stood in the dying sunlight and gazed out the glass wall. The black mountains jagged out in sharp and angular directions; a small lake sat in the desert-like mouth of the earth; and the last of the sun cast shadows against every bare tree, cactus, rock and animal. I sighed and glanced once more at the magnificent view, then changed into my pyjamas, and finally, made my way to bed.

"Ugh…" I groaned and lifted the tanned, hairy arm from around my waist with disgust. "Asshole." I muttered to the bastard that took advantage of a stupidly drunk girl. Which, unfortunately, just had to be me.

I'd lived in Morocco for no more than two weeks now, but nothing seemed to change. I wasn't feeling the new excitement of being somebody different, or meeting new people, or discovering new inspiration. I felt nothing.

I pulled on a ragged pair of shorts and a t shirt and wrote the stupid man a note.

Fuck off. The two words made me crack a smile. I would repress that memory of drinking out my sorrows with vodka and tequilas in that dark and noisy club forever.

I pulled out my new scarf that I bought a few days. It was beautiful; a deep purple with crimson and mint green patterns of elephants and dark forests embroidered into the silk.

I walked briskly back to my little room in that hotel, that seemed to look shabbier with every passing day. Once I climbed into the cold shower, I instantaneously felt better. The water unlocked my tense muscles; the drumming of the water was surprisingly very soothing.

As I stumbled out of the bathroom, I checked the time on my little nokia phone. It surprised me as it began to vibrate. Holy shit.

The caller id showed the one name I'd been trying to forget for six months and two days.

Arthur.

"Hello?"