~Rappler means 'Remember' in French. This is based on the movie Inception. It's been a huge effort so...I hope you like it :) Review, please!~

Preface

She welcomed the beginning- the cold tendrils of darkness flowed around her body, meshing softly around her shape. They were so gentle, feather light, the ice in them melting, melting, melting…then the last piece sewed over her head-and then she was-somewhere.

"Excuse me."

Ariadne lifted her bowed head quickly, startled, into the eyes of a man. He wore a tan overcoat, brown slacks, and held a Blackberry to his ear. His pale greens glittered with barely contained malice at her slow response; catching on she nodded, stepping hurriedly to the right. The stranger nodded curtly, his cropped hair gleaming slightly in the bright over-head lighting, before hurrying past her. Staring after him she huffed distractedly, trying to recall her purpose here. The answer came to her quickly enough-she straightened up, brushing a piece of her dark, wavy hair behind her ear before assessing the situation.

She wove her way through the crowd easily, the distracted people hardly giving her a second glance as she made her way forward. Clasping her hands behind her back she appraised her handiwork, her carmel brown eyes warming as she took in the familiar landscape. The ceiling was held up by roman pillars; the arched roof curved from left, light pouring through the spaces in between. The white marble floor gleamed with dedication, her steps clicking across them with ease. To her left and right there were steps leading to other rooms-people ran up them like a multitude of ants, in such a hurry to reach their destination. At the moment, however, she was approaching the rows of unblemished, empty benches that lay in front of her. Picking the nearest one she let her fingers trace its arm, noting the familiar yet strange texture underneath her fingertips.

Earlier that year she'd been studying the architecture of the Grand Union Station in Chicago, Illinois, in the U.S. Rarely ever did they study anything outside of Europe but Ariadne had welcomed the change with open arms. Before her, sure enough, lay the Great Hall of Chi, just as it had appeared in pictures of the Union Station during the 1940s. Everything seemed perfect-but her fingers drifted to a stop on the bench arm as she noticed the one flaw. Unconsciously she had tinted everything with gold; there were golden flecks in the egg-shell marble and chestnut benches, and everything shown with a copper hue. Studying the golden grains beneath her fingers, her mind raced, her stomach sinking. She remembered this color; her eyes lit up briefly as she was assaulted with images. Curtains, waving in the wind…glass, so carelessly crushed beneath her foot…golden sheets, strewn on the floor in a fit of madness…

Jerking her fingers away from the wood she stumbled backward, her mouth shutting open and closing like a fish. She hadn't placed that in the design she had drawn earlier today, and those were most not certainly her thoughts. That was a memory…not hers, but one that she recalled having witnessed what seemed like years ago…

Shutting her mouth she turned her back on the bench, striding in between the rows to where a small monument stood. The chunk of marble rose up from the ground, a little bit above her eye-level; a brand-new clock was displayed near the top of its surface. Tilting her head she studied the clock-its outer-rim was gold, just as planned. Reaching upward she touched the clocks frigid surface, convincing herself that all was well-all had been planned correctly. Closing her eyes briefly in relief she bowed her head, leaving her hand to trail down on the marble. As her hand began to pull away from the monument, it shivered beneath her hand. Jerking her head upward, eyes wild, she pressed her hand flat against the egg-shell stone to confirm what she had just felt. Her question was answered with a ferocious shaking-and suddenly everything was violently shivering, as if the whole place was caught in an earthquake. The floor heaved beneath her feet-she stumbled backward in response to the movement, her eyes shooting around. Where was it coming from? All the people walking around froze, looking around for the source as well with blank eyes. The shaking increased-the pillars that upheld the ceiling began breaking, sounding like gun-shots, dust spewing out of the cracks like blood. Ariadne stood frozen, her eyes huge as she gaped up at the golden clock above her. Amid the gale it shook none, rather, staying in place, eerily still. She could clearly see her face in its surface-shocked, frightened, and full of questions. This wasn't as planned. She stayed frozen as the crescendo increased from behind; as the roar of a charging train was added to the orchestra of disaster -and still all she could do was stare. The gleaming surface of the clock stayed motionless, her face the only thing she could see-and then there was someone else. Frightened indigo eyes, bare shoulders caressed with black coffee curls-and pink lips, opened wide and imploring. "Help me-"

The woman whispered, and then the pillars crumpled, everything folding in on its self sickingly. "Help me!"

The woman's plea echoed, falling in with Ariadne as the tendrils closed over her head once more.