(I own nothing!)

I walked along the snowy street, head down, watching the families laugh and sing carols, the hobos freeze to death and the flasher that just flashed a cop and was now face first on the ground. I would rather be any one of them, anyone, just not me.

I could feel my bones grating, my muscles screaming, and my head throbbing. But it didn't matter. I just kept walking along the sidewalk trying to pull the t-shirt closer to me, trying to stop the escaping warmth.

He had hit me again. And again. And again. What happened? He had been so different when we started dating. And now the thought that they were the same person was impossible to believe. But they were and the bruises on my stomach were proof of that fact. At least he hadn't broken any of my bones this time. I mentally assessed the damage: bruising on my stomach and back, three cracked ribs, pain in my head from hitting it on the coffee table, more bruising on my arms, legs and the left side of my face.

I stopped by a street vendor and bought a pair of large sunglasses, to cover the bruising on my face, with some change left over in my pocket. My overly conservative clothes hid the rest.

I tried to focus on happier days. The days I spent with the dream team. The hours I would spend in that big old warehouse watching Arthur and Eames argue, Yusuf nearly cry and threatening sedatives that would do unthinkable things when one of them knocked over one of his precious chemicals, Cobb trying to play referee, and Saito with a look on his face that tells he's wondering what was slipped into his coffee that he would hire us, or when we would argue over what to order off the take-out menu, or when Cobb would tell me good job on my work. It had been a year since then, but it felt like a decade.

The snow turns to sleet and it soaks through my t-shirt to my bones. I spot an awning to duck under but one look from a doorman tells me that I'm unwelcome. I turn and cross the street acting as if the thought of soiling their shelter with my presence had never crossed my mind. I walk till I'm in the better part of town. The cars on the street use their tires to splash me in a show of distaste for anyone who didn't spend fifty dollars on their outfit.

I was soaked and cold, my lips looking like I had eaten a thousand raspberry popsicles and my insides feeling like I had.

Then a sleek black limo slows down next to me and the back window rolls down.

"I'm not for sale." I wonder who could think I was a hooker in my get up, an old t-shirt and faded jeans, but I kept my eyes forward refusing to look at the passenger. "I don't do 'that' kind of work."

"I know exactly what kind of work you do, Ms. Bishop." I stop dead at the voice.

"What do you want, Mr. Saito?" I ask as the window rolls up. Must not have wanted anything that important, but then the door clicked open and the man inside offered me his hand.

"I would like to talk business, but not here. Too many ears to overhear us." I think for a second, but the chance of going back into the dream world is too strong and the next thing I know I'm sitting in the back of the limo being whisked off to some unknown location.

"I'm afraid that where we are going needs to remain a secret." I nod.

"I can keep a secret."

"I know, but you're the one we're keeping it from." Then I feel a prick in the back of my neck. Before I can call him any offensive names, I'm becoming one with the seat cushion.

I wake up to see Saito sitting across from me, eating something that smells really good. I see him motion to someone behind me and a plate of food is placed in front of me. I slowly lift the fork to my mouth half afraid of passing out from them lacing it with more drugs. Saito smiled.

I'm in a small room, the walls are mostly panels except for the far ends, and the room is shaped like a rectangle, but what strikes me is how incredibly wrong the room feels.

"Ms. Bishop, may I tell you a story?" He stops eating and looks at me. I nod, taking a bite out if something that resembles fish.

"When I was fifteen I had a sister, she was the gentlest woman in the world, and she could light up the room with a single smile." His eyes went misty and I could tell he was looking at his sister and not me. "But then something bad happened. She fell in love with a boy." Here he paused.

"How is that a bad thing?" His eyes snapped back to mine.

"He was a prince at first, her perfect 'knight in shining armor' she would call him." Saito spat.

"What happened?" I knew this story wasn't going to have a happily ever after.

"He began to hit her. No one knew at first but she began to act strange, not as happy, and more secretive. One day I came over for a surprise visit and the house was a wreck and she just sat in the middle of the floor covered in blood, surrounded by shattered glass and dry wall. I asked her to leave him, but she refused and said that what happened was her fault in the first place."

I sat there as he fought to control his rage.

"Then it stopped. They got married and were happy but I watched for any signs. And then one day I was coming back from a meeting in Hong Kong when I got the news. My sister was dead, beaten to death by her husband. The autopsy showed that her skull had been bashed in with a lamp and there were signs that she had been abused." I saw Saito start to shake but this time not from rage, but from pain. "I missed them. Every single sign that said 'get her out' I missed. And my sister died because I didn't stop it."

I sat there in silence as the pain in his words stabbed at my heart.

"I'm sorry for your loss." It was all I could say, I mean what do you say to news like that?

"I vowed that I would never overlook something like that ever again, which is why I'm here."

"What?" I tried to sound dumb.

"Please don't insult my intelligence, Ms. Bishop. You know as to what I'm referring."

"I'm not sure I do."

"I know that your boyfriend has been hitting you."

"No, he hasn't." Saito made a motion much like the one he made for someone to bring me food, only this time they brought a laptop. He set the laptop on the table and hit a button, turning the screen to face me. It was a video from a surveillance camera. It looked straight in to my living room.

"You have no right to spy on me." I snarl as two figures came into view, well, one was thrown into view. I watched as my head smacked hard against the coffee table, the man on screen was saying something and then he started kicking me in the stomach. I winced at the moment that I knew the first rib had cracked.

He closed the lid and the same person took away the laptop.

"Ariadne, I lost my sister because of my negligence. Please let me help you."

"It won't work he'll just come after me again and things will get worse." I sound pitiful but I won't let someone else get dragged into this.

"He won't find you, when I don't want someone found, they won't be."

"He'll kill you."

"I can handle myself."

"He'll-" But he cut me off.

"Ariadne, do you really want to go back to that house tonight, go back to him?" I remain silent. He's right, I don't want to go back. I don't want to see him ever again. But could I really do this?

"Please let me help you." I looked into his eyes and saw what he wanted. He wanted his sister back. He wanted to repent for his mistake. He needed this.

I don't know why I said what I said next but I did.

"Okay."