What... wait... is that a new story?... after so long?... no seriously, I've been gone for what, seven months? More I think, but that's not the point, because now I'm back and I'm running around in a completely new fandom: 'Inception'. I've fallen deep and hard for Arthur/Ariadne and the whole universe in general, so I'm hoping to get my muses kickstarted and write more in this universe.

Anyway, this is a piece centering on Ariadne: I wrote it AT NIGHT right after watching the movie, when I was still high on dream-space. Reviews would be great as would critism, but please be nice as I haven't written anything in FOREVER and I am a little unsure about this (:

What Lies Within

"What lies behind us and what lies before us, are small matters compared to what lies within us."- Ralph Waldo Emerson

She wakes up and it's over. She's dreamed about it again, the rain hitting the roof of the car, the snow flying everywhere, in her eyes and against her face.

The chaste kiss that had surprised her more than even the news of limbo a few minutes before had.

Ariadne supposes that is a little wicked in itself, but she'd been warned from the start of the consequences, the dangers of working in a world that didn't exist. The way you lost yourself, wanting the dream more than reality. She could still recall, with vivid detail, the haunted look in Cobb's eyes, always present but even more so when she was mentioned or the shadow of her form would appear in his dreams. It makes her shiver and she quickly reaches over to the nightstand, hand closing around the solid form of her chess piece, the hollow bishop that is her anchor to this world. As long as she doesn't let go, Ariadne tells herself that she will be okay.

It doesn't change the fact that getting up each day is getting harder and harder. That her studies just don't hold her interest like it used to. That every time her teacher starts talking about this and this architect who did this and this, she can't help but see the endless mirror-reflections of Cobb and herself, before it shatters beneath her hand.

She can't help but imagine the paradox that he so vividly told her about, the stairs that would never end and then all of the sudden did. And she'll be damned if she doesn't admit to herself, even if it is just in the darkest hours of the night, that she misses it.

All of it.

She misses the scent of pharmacy that persistently clung to Yusuf like a permanent perfume. She misses Eames who, despite possessing a humor more crude than any other person she knows, still managed to make her smile. She misses Cobb and the courage that seemed to be radiating from him at all times, even after she learned how dark the source of that courage might be. And she even misses Saito, the security he somehow bestowed on the team, the assurance that he had things covered.

And she misses Arthur, but she lets her nails dig into the palm of her hands, before she finishes that thought. It's hard enough to think about the others, to imagine the entire world that she created all on her own and she doesn't need the addition of some silly little kiss to torment her further.

It's been nearly six months, and little to no contact has been made between her and the rest. Eames called her about two months after it was all over, inquiring how she was and while she had found this strange, she had also been pleasantly surprised. The conversation had been weird and somehow short and only after she'd hung up, had she realized that he had probably done so, to ensure that she was still in the real world and hadn't succumbed after her short time in limbo.

Her fingers turn white as she tightens her fist around the bishop. It seems to be the way her dreams always ends these days: a journey through her worlds, her creations, and then all of the sudden, she's coughing and spluttering and standing on a beach beside a city build of sand and dreams and crushed hope.

In her dreams, the limbo is never as clear as she knows it really is, but the feel of Fischer's unconscious body and the air whizzing past her ears as she throws herself off the building, seems clearer than ever. And she wakes every time, clutches the bishop and thinks that maybe, just maybe, she should have said no. But despite it all, she knows that she never would have and she never will.

Cobb had contacted her as well, about two weeks ago. She supposed he needed the time, to settle down and spend time with Phillipa and James. He invited her over, but her studies had taken up too much of her time until now. She knows that, really she's just delaying it, because a bit of her is afraid that she will get there and find out that it was all a dream or maybe, that she will get there and realize that it was all real.

She isn't sure which option scares her the most. And perhaps, it's the third one.

The option that Arthur might be there.

Ariadne knows it's foolish to have these feelings and cling to them, like she'll admit to herself that she does. It might be even more foolish than willingly choose to go into limbo with Cobb, but at least at that time, it had been necessary and now it's just plain dumb. And she isn't used to be feeling dumb, especially not about things that, technically, aren't even there.

Because they might've died, so why wouldn't he have kissed her? It didn't mean anything more than that. It couldn't mean anything more than that, because if it does, there are too many questions in her head, and she can't possibly answer them.

So she takes a deep breath, puts the bishop on the night-table and tries to clear her mind. When that doesn't work, she starts to channel Professor Miles, whispering out names and dates in the cold night-air of her apartment. The Statue of Liberty, 1886, Louvre, 1190... And when she runs out of buildings, monuments and dates, she forces her mind to focus on her brother on his new bike, on her sister introducing her new boyfriend and on the paper that's due in a week and that she hasn't even looked at yet.

Real life. When she wakes again, it is to the shrill noise of her cell-phone ringing. She can't remember any dreams this time and she's thankful, but still dead-tired. But then she looks at her phone and all of the sudden she's completely awake again, and her eyes widen, because she honestly hadn't expected to ever see that number highlight the small screen again.

Ariadne quickly answers with a breathless. "Hello?", but there's only a low noise on the end, like someone is driving through a tunnel. She's almost about to hang up again, when there's more noise and what sounds like half a word, and then all of the sudden it's Arthur's voice on the other end, and he's tentatively asking her if she's still there.

And it's the happiest she's felt in nearly six months.

"Hello? Ariadne, are you still there?"

She finds her voice hiding behind her beating heart, and quickly answers "Yes?"

"Good." He does sound pleased, but there's still the slightest hint of hesitation in his tone. As if he's unsure what he, or maybe she, is going to say next.

"Where've you been?" She says the first things that comes to mind and her brow furrows and then lifts, because she realizes herself how dumb that question seemed (there was that word again), but she has been wondering, and she wants to know, so she doesn't say anything else.

"Around." Again there's hesitation in his voice and he even sounds a bit defensive. She wonders why 'around' couldn't have been Paris. "I've been doing some jobs, which is actually why I called."

Of course. She tries not to feel disappointed. Of course it's a job. Last time worked out and now he was in need of an architect, so why not someone he already knew?

But she pushes it back, because the thrill she got the first time she ever controlled a dream like that runs through her stomach again, and she knows that even though seeing him again will be weird and most likely painful, she wants to do this. She needs to do this.

"What's it about?" She asks, which is really Ariadne-speak for 'okay, I'm in'. She likes to think that he knows her well enough to figure this out, and from the tone of his voice, she almost believes he does. As he explains, she can practically feel the cool air in the old warehouse, the needle through her wrist and she's sure that she can see him, tipping back on his chair, notebook in one hand, pen in the other. Explaining with that look in his eyes, the look that clearly spoke of how much he loved his job.

A mention of names (Eames and Yusuf) makes her focus on his voice again, and her stomach does back flips in excitement. When she's done with the inner cheering, she notices that he's grown silent on the other end, and she realizes that she hasn't said anything yet.

"Well, uh... count me in." She quickly gets out and she imagines him smiling.

"Great. I'll see you in a few days."

She says goodbye, almost in a dazed state, and when she hangs up she realizes that it's almost an hour since he called and that classes started twenty minutes ago. She decides to call the teacher later and tell him, in great detail, of the sudden case of nausea she acquired this morning. School is the last thing on her mind right now.

She takes the bishop in hand and walks over to the window. She wonders at how her life changed so quickly, and why she all of the sudden had started thinking in before and after. Before the dream and after it was over.

Putting the bishop on the window still, Ariadne thinks that maybe, she doesn't have to wake up just yet.