Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!

Eames walked into the meeting room, and turned. His mother was already sitting at one of the tables, anxiously clutching a bag. She was wearing an outfit he'd never seen before, and his heart sunk when he noticed that one hand was sporting an ostentatious ring.

"Andy!" She got up, and waved at him, only to sink back into her seat when he didn't respond. He walked over, feeling a swirl of conflicting emotions – anger, sadness, and finally, bitterness.

"Mum." He stood, letting her get up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Andy, its so-" her voice faltered.

"Yes?" His eyes were hard.

"Difficult." She finished. She looked at him. "I know you don't like it here, but-"

"How do you know? You haven't asked me anything about this place!" His anger was building, and he looked at her in astonishment. "You just dump me here, then run off with that creep-"

"Andy!" His mother's voice was sharp. "Don't call him that! He's my husband-" She stopped abruptly, flushing.

"You're husband?" Eames looked at her in astonishment. "You're – married?"

"Yes," she whispered. "He asked me, and I said yes. We're very happy together." She swallowed. "He says that when you're ready to come out, he'll give you anything you need. As long as you don't come and live with us."

"Well, that's so nice for you," Eames said sarcastically. "You're married, to him. Do you know what he called me? We'll, do you?"

She shifted. "Andy, stop it. You'll upset yourself."

"He called me a delusional, little – " Eames broke off, anger bubbling out of his voice. "And you believed him. Thanks Mum, thanks a bundle."

"Stop it." His mother's voice was sharp. "Just stop it, Andy. The way you're behaving – I don't want to see you like this."

"So why bother to come?" Eames' tone was aggressive. "Why bother to come and visit your crazy son?"

"Because you are my son," she said, her voice lacking conviction. Eames narrowed his eyes, then pounced.

"You're only here out of a sense of duty, a sense of obligation. But, you know what, mummy? Don't bother. Because I hate you." He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth. He clutched at the table. "Mum, I-"

His mother stood up, her face white. She glared at him.

"Well, if that's the case, then the feeling's mutual." She swallowed. "I wish I'd never had you, Andrew. Your father wanted me to abort you – I really wish I'd done so!"

Eames' paled. "He didn't," he whispered.

"He did." His mother narrowed her eyes; her knuckles were clutching her bag so tightly they'd gone white. "Why else do you think he left? He knew you'd be nothing but trouble. And you are. As soon as they release you, I don't care where you go. Or what you do. Just don't ever try and come back to me, that's all!"

Eames' jaw dropped, as his mother got up and walked out. "Mum," he whispered, brokenly.


Eames, feeling dazed, walked back into the recreation room. Arthur was sitting by himself, playing a game of patience. Eames swallowed, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite him.

"Allright?" He said, with a pretence of cheeriness. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"I was until about five seconds ago," he replied, coolly. The insult made Eames' flush. He felt vulnerable, and a desperate need to try and reassure himself.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Eames?"

"Your parents…"

"What about them?" Arthur put the cards down and looked at the slightly older boy. "What about my parents?"

"Do your parents-" Eames swallowed, unsure of how to frame the words. "Do they love you?"

Arthur looked at him. "Well, my mother could have been lying when she said 'I love you sweetie' on the phone to me last week, but somehow I don't think she was." His tone was sarcastic, and Eames flushed scarlet.

"Arthur…"

The other boy looked up, irritably. "What is it?"

"Did your parents –" Eames had to know; had to know he wasn't the only one whose parents could reject him. "Did they want you?"

Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Did your parents ever threaten to have you turned out, or aborted?" The words came out in a rush, and Eames suddenly felt weak and exposed.

"Eames." Arthur leaned forward, a faint smile of sympathy on his face. "I'm adopted. My parents chose me. My biological parents didn't want me, but my parents do. I'm very lucky."

Eames blinked, angry to feel tears welling up. Arthur got up.

"I'm sorry," he said, simply, and turned to leave. Eames watched him go, a veil of tears obscuring his vision. Brushing them aside angrily, he went into the garden.