Discliamer: Inception does not belong to me, all readers and reviews appreciated, many thanks.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Eames nodded. "Perfectly, Doc."

Fran looked at him. "Remember. You're going into the secure wing. I am your visiting shrink; Arthur your visiting lawyer. Dom is going to be your half-brother."

Eames swallowed. "Right. Got you."

They were standing near the entrance of the correctional facility. The stark building loomed above them, a brooding, rotting hulk. The fences were smothered in barbed wire, and Eames could see the armed guards dotted around on their watch towers, poised and ready to strike.

"What are you going to do in their?"

"Aside from teach them how to win at Poker? Get to know Jensen. Find out how we can best trace the killer. Get him to trust me. Then, we swoop in, perform the extraction, and I get to get out of this really lovely grey outfit. And I thought it would be orange. Damn."

Fran smiled, wryly. "Good luck, Eames."

"Thank you, doctor. Oh, one last thing-"

"Yes?"

"Dinner, when I get out?"

She smiled. "If you insist."

He winked at her. "I do."

"Save that for the marriage ceremony," she commented, and gave Eames a tap. "Right. Your welcoming committee is over there. Good luck."

Arthur sat in the Warehouse, trying not to think. He checked his watch; Eames was going into the prison. He reached for his coffee cup, and took a long swallow.

He still remembered the last time they'd gone to the bar. Rafe. He shivered. The man had been so calm, so matter of fact. He'd eyes Arthur as though he were a piece of prime steak, and the look in those dark eyes had told Arthur that this was a man used to getting what he wanted. His hair had been dark, falling to his shoulders.

Eames had been slightly less shocked than Arthur expected.

"So his name was Rafe," he'd responded. "Doesn't mean he's the killer. In fact, it means nothing, Arthur. All we know is that 'John' was propositioned by Mikey, whose boyfriend seems to have a few predilections in common with the killer. Doesn't mean that this Rafe is the killer."

"it was the way he looked at me…" Arthur's voice trailed off.

"Looked at you how?"

"As though I was just a piece of meat." The Point Man looked at the Forger.

Eames had taken a swallow of Scotch. "Arthur. To the gay community, you're probably very attractive. It doesn't mean that he wanted to slice you up like meat, though."

Arthur had felt sick at this comment, and turned away. He blinked, and reached again for his coffee cup. An idea was forming. He took another swallow.

Cobb was waiting, anxiously, for Fran. She tapped on the window of the car. "Hey!"

He unlocked her door. "Hey yourself." He paused, and looked at her. "So, did he go in ok?"

"Yep. I think he's just being frisked now."

Cobb couldn't suppress a wry smile. "Something tells me its not the first time."

"No." She looked at the Extractor. "How are you feeling, Dom?"

Cobb shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know. Arthur's decided to go ahead with the extraction; Eames has gone inside. But, I think this is the end for the team. I've accepted it. I don't regret what I've chosen to do. But I do regret what could happen."

She raised her eyebrows. "You still had time to stop it."

"I know." He rubbed his forehead. "But I still feel that family deserves an explanation. If it were my daughter…" his voice trailed off.

"Yes, I know." She turned to Cobb. "You just have to hope that eventually, your team sees it this way."

Cobb nodded. "I hope."

"Raise your arms."

Eames complied with the barked instructions, trying not to think about the large male warden patting down his body. He held his arms out to the side.

"Right. No weapons. Nothing on you. Follow me."

Eames walked slowly; his ankles were shackled. As he followed the warden into the secure wing, he suddenly noticed how dark and dank the corridors were becoming. As another secure door was unbolted, the smell of dirty bodies and unflushed toilets hit him. He tried to suppress his gag reflex.

"Hey!" A loud voice echoed through the corridor. "Fresh meat!"

Eames kept his eyes perfectly straight ahead, not wanting to get into banter with any of the other inmates. He knew he would have time to get to know them, and also knew he needed to in order to survive.

A bearded, slightly leering face poked its way through the bars. "Hey, it's a pretty boy! Check him out!"

Eames kept his face expressionless, not responding. He couldn't help but be thankful that it was him in this position, and not Arthur. The Point Man would have been ripped apart in minutes, he thought wryly.

The warden stopped in front of a cell door. Taking a key, he unlocked it.

"You're in here. With him." He pushed the door open. "Jensen!" He barked. "Company! Get up!"

A small, thin man with sandy coloured hair rolled off one of the beds. He looked at Eames with disinterest bordering on insolence.

"Hey." He smiled. "Welcome to the Hilton."

Arthur swallowed his peppermint tea and glanced at the clock. This was his chance. Dressed in black jeans and t-shirt, he shrugged into his leather jacket. Grabbing his keys, he walked out to the parking lot.

As he drove to the bar, he was overcome with misgivings. Eames was inside, trying to get to know Jensen. He could try and get to know Rafe. The sooner they cleared up who Rafe was, the quicker they could perform the extraction and find out where Chandra Caddick was. Arthur tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Spotting the bar up ahead, he swerved and pulled into an empty space.

He paused, and took a deep breath. He pulled out his cell, and scrolled through contacts to find Cobb's number. He dialled. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

"Dom? Arthur." He tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm following up a lead. I'll ring you as soon as I know anything. Speak to you soon." He clicked off, and put the phone in his pocket. Opening the door, he stepped out and walked to the entrance.

The guy at the ticket booth looked up. "Back again?"

"Yes." Arthur smiled.

"Not a problem. You contribute to the view. Five dollars." Arthur paid in cash and walked downstairs. The bar was smokier than previously, and the smell of pot hung in the air. He coughed, and walked to the bar.

The bartender came up. "Yeah?"

"Um…vodka. With ice."

"Sure thing." A few minutes later, a glass was produced. "Seven bucks."

"Allow me." A soft voice spoke. Turning, Arthur saw it was the man from the previous night. His dark hair was shoulder length, and his skin almost alabaster pale. He smiled at Arthur.

"You never miss a trick, Rafe." The bartender chuckled.

Rafe shrugged. "You see a beautiful stranger, he cuts you down. You hope he comes back. He does." He turned to Arthur. "It is good to see you again. Your bone structure kept me awake all night."

Arthur swallowed, and picked up the glass. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." That voice. "Just drink it."

Arthur took a sip. It burned a path to his stomach.

Rafe smiled. "Hope you like it."

Eames sat on the bed, looking at Jensen. The smaller man was looking at him.

"So…" Eaes began.

"So…" Jensen mimicked, then laughed. "Welcome to hell."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yep." Jensen rummaged in his shirt pocket for cigarettes and pulled them out. "Want one?"

"Won't say no."

"You're English."

"Yes."

"Why you here?"

"Armed robbery."

Jensen's eyebrows raised. "Really?" He lit his cigarette.

"What are you in here for?" Eames tried to speak casually.

Jensen smiled and sucked on the cigarette. He exhaled.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I guess you didn't bring your boyfriend." Rafe's voice was soft.

"No." Arthur took another swallow. "I didn't."

"Good thinking. Have you finished?"

Arthur drained his glass. "Have now."

Rafe raised his eyebrows, suggestively. "I have a better vintage of that at my place. How about it? I won't tell if you won't."

Arthur paused. He then thought of Ariadne, and how doing this might prevent her being exposed any further to this hideous case.

"Sounds good," he looked at the other man. "Lets go."

Rafe smiled. A smile that did not reach his eyes. "Now you're talking."