Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Nor does 50/50.

Adam swallowed, and smiled at Ariadne. Two cups of dark roast later, and he was feeling far more relaxed.

"Would you like, to um," he paused, and then continued - "watch a movie, maybe?"

She nodded. "Sure, what have you got?" She'd already got up and started combing the DVDs he had lined up on the shelf. "You've got..." her eyes widened. "Bikini Girls with Machine Guns!"

Adam got up, cursing. "Thats not mine," he said, rescuing it from her hand. "Its Kyle's."

"Kyle?"

"My best friend," Adam reminded her, although he wasn't entirely sure he was deserving of the epithet at this precise moment. "He-" Adam looked at her, and smiled. "He, uh, thought it would cheer me up. He's like that."

She nodded. "OK." She continued to rifle through the pile of slender plastic boxes. "How about this?"

He smiled. "iShaun of the Dead/i."

She grinned. "I could do with some zombies!"

He nodded. "Great." He took the box, opened it, and gently pulled out the sleek disc. Ariadne settled herself back on the couch.

"Um, you don't mind me choosing this one, do you?" She said, her voice slightly nervous. He turned his head and looked at her. "No. Why?"

"Well, um, I know some guys who think girls shouldn't like horror movies, and instead go and see-"

"Chick flicks?" he finished for her. She nodded. "No, believe me, this is great." He grinned as he settled next to her, and picked up the black remote wand. "My ex really liked chick flicks." He sighed. "I remember when she made me watch How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days." He shuddered, and Ariadne smiled. "Never seen it."

"Consider yourself lucky." He sighed again. "They should make a film called How To Lose A Girl In Ten Days, and let me write the script. Incredibly easy - just tell them you have cancer."

She swallowed, noting the bitterness lacing his voice. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He looked at her. "I'm sorry. I need to stop going on about it, its not good. But I got diagnosed, she told me she'd be here for me, and she decided she'd rather be with someone else." He rubbed his forehead. "I can't blame her."

"Then stop blaming yourself," Ariadne said, shortly. She looked at him. "Do you think you would have stayed together if you hadn't been diagnosed?"

Adam blinked, torn between concentrating on Simon Pegg trying to escape a ravenous zombie and answering the question. Kyle had disliked her thoroughly, often making barbed comments to Adam when they were alone. Kyle had considered her self-absorbed, boring, and unwilling to face reality.

"Face it, dude," he'd told Adam a few months before, in a coffee shop, "whilst you're together she'll leave her clothes and shit all over your floor, she'll only ever make you salad because she wants to be a size zero, and she'll never have sex with you before, during, or after her period. And whats with all this re-balancing your karma crap?" Kyle waved his hands in agitation. "Dump her, please! For the sake of your sanity, and mine!"

Adam had meekly sipped his cappuccino and said nothing. But now, faced with a direct question from Ariadne, he found himself trying to rationalise how he'd behaved. He'd never said no to her, or told her he was unhappy with the situation.

"Um, no," he said, finally. "We were very different. She's kind of glamorous, bohemian. And I'm just a regular joe who works in radio and lives in the suburbs. I think she wants a loft apartment, filled with interesting sculptures and batik prints. And a cat. I'm allergic to them."

She smiled. "So, you don't think it would have worked out?"

He shook his head. "She wants to live in a dream world. I'm afraid I'm stuck in reality. Dreams are just dreams." He sighed, and burrowed into the couch. Ariadne leaned over, and put her hand on his. He blinked, but didn't draw away.

"Adam," she said gently, hesitantly, "dreams can help take you out of reality."

He nodded. "Exactly. But its reality we're stuck with." He wrapped his fingers around hers, and gave them a slight squeeze. "And my reality is that I'm with cancer." He shrugged. "Dreams aren't going to help." He met her eyes. "But, the reality I'm in at the moment, it feels pretty good..."

He leaned over, and she reciprocated. Their lips met briefly, and he pulled away. "Thank you, he said, huskily.

"What for?"

"For making me-" he broke off, as suddenly, the door opened. He swallowed as a silhoutte began to emerge.

"Kyle," he said, frustratedly, "you have the worst-"

"Actually," came a slightly haughty female voice, "Its me." Adam blinked as Rachel walked in, and he cursed himself for forgetting that she still had a key. She looked at the two of them on the couch, and raised an eyebrow.

"Well," she said, snippily. "Making up for lost time?"

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