This is a just a short piece I typed out. Its a combination of a few ideas from previous unpublished and discarded fanfics I've toyed with before, and some personal preferences for the Eames/Ariadne ship (my favorite). Comments/Suggestions are much appreciated. I don't know if this will be a one-shot or part of a series yet, so tell me what you think.

Also, there's no way I could lay claim to the magnificence of Eames, Ariadne, or any other part of Inception; that's all from the brilliant mind of Christopher Nolan.

and the beginning lines are from Straylight Run's 'Hands in the Sky (Big Shot)'

Tear it out of these open pages,
Women and kids of all ages,
Millions of men with blank faces,
Italicized lies, headlines, bold type

The song folded over into the silence as I closed the laptop, pinching the bridge of my nose. I'm exhausted, hungry and on the cusp of a migraine. I flip open my phone; 2:49 glows in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. Another late night spent up working out the last details of the Fischer job. I want—need—to perfect every aspect of the levels; balance their complexity with Fischer's memories and life experiences. I'd spent the past week and a half working well into the AM, frustrated with the sluggish progress. Cobb was too busy trying to trap Mal from entering the job to offer anything more than "You're doing fine." and Yusuf spent most of his time experimenting with Arthur on the various sedatives. Only Eames took the time to make frequent visits, suggesting a wall here, or a dead end there. His proposals didn't figure into the model more often than not, but the attention he gave was much appreciated. Arthur gave me affectionate looks sometimes, but he seemed to favor laying claim over actually claiming. Its as if he wants me on layaway until he decides I'm worth the expenditure. Eames, on the other hand, well..I couldn't quite place him. He's exceedingly charming and forward, but I don't dare to assume his actions toward me mean anything more than the teases he gives Arthur.

Sighing, I stood—perhaps too quickly—as grayish static fuzzed through my brain for a minute. Steadying myself, I shrugged on a cardigan, carelessly looping a scarf around my neck while I yawn for the 50th time tonight. I count the hours ahead, 4,5,6,7..three hours, at most, of sleep I'll get. Assuming a arrive at the flat soon, and I don't mind coming here in the same outfit. I look back once more over the scale models for the Fischer job as I cross the doorway "I hope this is enough", I whisper, biting my lip before heading to the lift.

3:05. I pocket my phone, no use checking the time every 5 minutes to remind myself how tired I'll continue to be. A cool breeze wafts through the empty streets, prompting me to pull a loop of the scarf over my head like a hood. I continue to go over the plans, only pausing to pick up on a faint sound—a car going by in the distance, paper swirling through the gutter, the soft scuff of my own flats against the pavement. And then the harder, slightly quicker pace of another set of legs coming from somewhere behind me. I don't look at first, but when I needlessly take a new route, turning a corner only to shortly hear the footsteps follow, I quickly glance behind.

Shit.

A tall, dark figure of a man looms short of 40 meters away. And from the moment I turned my head, his pace quickened to a chase. I immediately bolt; my eyes scan the street signs as I work out a complex path to take, hoping he's not native and I can quickly shake him off through the narrow Paris streets. I look behind once more, he's fallen back only about 10 meters, but its enough for me to turn right on the next street and—WOOSH!

My heart fails for a second as a firm grip catches my arm, twisting it, and myself, into an alleyway. A terrified scream catches in my throat, and a calloused hand muffles my mouth as I'm roughly thrown against the brick behind some old crates. Its all happening so fast, I barely hear the footfalls of my pursuer rush past where I'm pinned and further down the street, pausing, before turning down a random corner. Its only then that I notice I haven't been breathing, and all that keeps me from collapsing is the unknown individual holding me against the wall. Gasping, I look up. "Eames." Is all I can manage as I try to steady my breathing.

His hands are on either side of my face, and as my cheeks flush, I feel the roughness of his palms as he tries to calm me down. "It's alright, darling. You're okay."

"But what was.." The shakiness of my hand was embarrassingly strong as I pointed to the street at our left.

"Cobol." He replies, taking my trembling hand into his own, which more than enveloped it. "It seems our location isn't so secret, but I estimate there's only the one bloke here at the moment, and you did a fine job shaking him off for a while." He gave a reassuring smile.

I did the best I could to return it, but I could feel less of a grin and more of a grimace across my face.

"If you hadn't been here," I started, as he wrapped his other arm around my side, supporting some of my weight as we walked down the alleyway.

"Ahhh, don't you worry about that. I've trailed you for the past few nights, of course it doesn't hurt that you finish around the same hour as my extracurricular activities" he stressed 'extracurricular' to divert my countenance I assume, "but all the same, I noticed this rather shady fellow lingering around the warehouse a bit too much. Can't have our beautiful little Architect go missing, now can we?"

He opens a large metal door and escorts me down a dimly lit hallway. Jingling keys through his fingers, he quietly unlocks a plain wooden door simply marked 528 and ushers me in.

"I figured," He throws the keys in a small bowl on a table near the door, "You wouldn't mind crashing here for the night, given the excitement of the past hour."

I look around. Its exactly Eames, classic, dark furniture scattered across the apartment. Mugs with varying amounts of tea left idle on tables, countertops, across the floor. An almost equal collection of wine bottles as well. It looks comfortable enough, but not lived in like my own loft.

"I can't thank you enough," I slowly say, getting used to the steadiness of my voice again, "but I doubt I'll be getting any sleep tonight."

"No worries, love. That's what all the women say when they get here."

I let out a nervous giggle.

"Ah, now there's the Ariadne smile that brightens up my day. Would you fancy a nightcap? Just to calm your nerves?"

He picks up one of the many various labeled wine bottles and grabs two clean glasses. I nod, combing through my hair with my fingers, "Would you mind if I clean up a bit in the WC?"

"Well, I prefer to call it a powder room, but if you must…" he teased.

Flicking the light on, I wince my eyes as they adjust to the sudden fluorescent glare. Glancing into the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. Ghost white, hair wild and flushes of red at my cheekbones; I'm a mess to say the least. I grab a comb laying idle on the counter and quickly try to tame the wild cavewoman look I had going on. I did what I could, removed my cardigan and switched my shirt, leaving me in my camisole and jeans. I splashed some water in my face and stuffed the clothes in my bag. For the second time tonight, I sighed at the doorframe, this time at the mess that looked back at me, a perfect reflection of the chaos that went down barely an hour ago.

"Are you alright, Ariadne?" Eames called out.

"Define 'alright'" I mused, entering the main room again. His eyebrows twitched slightly at the increase of skin I now showed, and he briefly cleared his throat before continuing.

"For a woman who's just been in a high speed chase and pinned against a wall by a dashing young brit, you look quite lovely" he smirked as he handed me a half a glass of wine.

"Well," I said, taking a sip, "I try."

He muttered something under his breath like "not that you have to" but I couldn't exactly make it out.

He took a large gulp of wine and gestured towards the couch he was already descending on. I paused for a second, thinking about the implications of what my next moves could be. He was my knight-in-shining-armor tonight, and was rather hinting in his flirtations…he was also beyond handsome and charming. Tentatively, I sat down, giving a slight "oh!" as I sank further into the cushions than I assumed I would. Eames gave a slight chuckle as I struggled to sit properly on a cushion that would surely swallow me whole. I fidgeted and took my cell from my pocket, removing one of the two objects poking into my hip, the second being the chess piece. For half a moment, I paused. For half a moment, every organ in my body ceased. This wasn't real. I was in a dream.

I moved the section that was previously here to the next chapter, it makes the piece seem less final, now that I'm settled on making more chapters.

Many thanks to those who've rated and reviewed so far :3 I love you all!