Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his neck. He could definitely feel a headache beginning. No surprise, he thought, idly, considering how busy and full his life was now.

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and smiled. Ariadne was standing in the doorway, holding a paintbrush. Dripping with magnolia paint. He raised his eyebrows.

"You going to put that somewhere?" he asked, a grin beginning to split his face. She pouted. "Don't give me ideas." She waved the brush at him, menacingly, causing small drips to fly free and arc towards him. He mock shreiked.

"No! Not the suit!" he cried, melodramatically. Laughing, Ariadne dropped the paintbrush onto the newspaper and ran towards him. He encircled her, and lifted her up.

"Never thought decorating could be so much fun," she said, nuzzling his neck with her lips.

"Never thought having a normal life could be fun," he countered, kissing her nose. It had been six months since both had decided to retire from Extraction. Arthur had found a job with a small consulting firm in the City, dealing with research on case files; Ariadne had secured a post at an Architectural firm. Both Eames and Cobb had admitted they regretted them leaving, but upon seeing the happiness of them both, had wished them well.

"We should meet up with Eames soon," she said, nibbling gently at his ear. "He emailed me; he's in the city next week!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Did he say why?"

She pulled apart from him, slightly. "I think its to do with a mark." She frowned. "Don't worry, I'm sure Eames won't drag us into anything."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Heard it before." He frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, but I want us to be safe, especially since we want to start a family soon-"

She leaned in, and kissed him. "After the wedding!" She said, grinning. "I am not going to be a pregnant bride!"

"I know, I know," Arthur said, a wicked grin appearing on his lips. "You don't want to have to wear the marquee as a dress!"

He shouted in playful shock as Ariadne swiped him with the paintbrush.

Arthur frowned again, rubbing his forehead. He'd downed two painkillers with water, and the headache had barely subsided. It was persistant, throbbing at the nape of his neck.

"You ok?"

"Hmmm," he responded, rubbing his neck. Need to get to a doctors, he thought. Probably nothing. Probably just stress. Buying the apartment - he shuddered. His nerves had been more frayed than on the Fischer job.

"Listen," Ariadne said, appearing in the doorway of the study, where he was measuring for bookshelves, "I've just checked the cupboards."

"No edible food?" Arthur guessed.

"None," she replied, shaking her head. "Sorry, I did plan to go grocery shopping-"

"Its ok," he said, quickly, putting the tape measure down and checking his watch. A little before seven. "I can get us take out. You've been tied up at work, I have, we've moved-"

She nodded. "Its been a lot to take on."

"Its worth it." He walked over, and kissed her on the lips. "I'll go and get us some Chinese. The usual?"

"Oh, yes please," she replied. "And maybe some crispy duck as well?"

"Got it," he promised. He walked into the hallway, and scooped up his leather jacket and keys. "I should be back in about an hour."

She nodded. "Thanks, love you!"

He turned and blew her a kiss, then left, shutting the door behind him.

"Your food, Sir."

Arthur looked up, and smiled at the petite Eurasian woman holding his order. As he collected it, his smile twisted into a grimace. The pain in his head was getting worse.

She looked at him. "Are you allright, Sir?"

He nodded. "Yes, thank you." He blinked; his eyesight was beginning to be bathed in washes of colour. He blinked again.

This is crazy.

He began to leave the shop. Suddenly, his legs shook. He reached out, and grabbed the doorframe. A couple of pedestrians looked at him, curiously, but didn't stop. Arthur shrugged and continued to walk.

Suddenly, he realised he barely recognised the street he walked down a hundred times before. Sweat was beading his forehead, and he gasped. A young woman approached him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"I'm fine-" Arthur said, then suddenly realised that the words had no sound. With a strangled gasp, his legs gave way. His head, he felt with shock, seemed to be wobbling on his neck.

"Oh my God, call an ambulance!" he heard someone shout. Closing his eyes, he felt unconsiousness wash over him.

Ariadne shifted. The formica chair was uncomfortable, and her legs were beginning to cramp. She twisted her engagement ring, wondering what they had done with Arthur.

"Ms Norrell?"

She looked up. A young female doctor was standing in front of her. Her expression was kind.

"You're Mr Ogilvie's fiancee, correct?" Ariadne nodded. "OK, would you please come with me?"

Ariadne got up, and numbly followed her. As she walked, she recognised with a dull shock that they were walking into Intensive Care.

"Where is Arthur?" Ariadne demanded. The doctor waited until they were inside an office, before she turned to speak to her.

"Ms Norrell, Mr Ogilvie - Arthur - is in Neurological", she began. Ariadne swallowed. "We believe he suffered a stroke."

"A stroke?" Ariadne looked shocked. "He can't have! He's barely 30!"

"Strokes can occur at all ages," the doctor continued, her expression pained. "But, the real damage is not the stroke. Its the impact its had on the brain stem."

"What?" Ariadne gripped the back of a chair. "Is he alive?"

The doctor nodded. "Arthur is alive. But, Ms Norrell, he isn't able to move, or speak." She looked at Ariadne, her face a mask of sympathy. "I'm afraid the stroke has resulted in Locked-In Syndrome."

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