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

"So, you'll go and see Saito tomorrow?"

Cobb drained the last of his Scotch. "Yep. Tell him that I've decided to send Arthur to treatment, and would he consider paying for it."

Eames tilted his glass in his hands.

"You still don't agree with this?"

The Forger shrugged. "If it's the only way to get Arthur hale and hearty again, we'll have to. But, I think we'll have to still consider inception. I suspect us getting into his head might be appreciated more than some bloody therapist who makes you try and talk about your childhood and about how it all went wrong because some wanker stole your bike."

Cobb lifted his eyebrows in amusement. "Have you ever tried therapy, Eames?"

Eames looked slightly offended.

"Absolutely not. There's nothing wrong with me."

"Aside from a massive ego."

Eames smiled. "I consider that to be my most attractive feature. Another drink?"

Arthur's eyes had widened, and he began choking on the water. He had been so intent on eating, that he hadn't even heard the Architect open the door and walk into the hallway.

"I hope you strangle!" Ariadne yelled, rage and fear finally starting to overcome her. She had accepted Arthur was ill, but she still couldn't come to terms with the fact that he was doing it so blatantly to himself. To see him standing in the kitchen, surrounded by food, clearly intent on shovelling it into his mouth, despite the fact he'd been hospitalised a few days before, felt like a slap in the face.

"What are you doing?" Her voice shook with fear. "Arthur!"

He coughed, spitting water out of his mouth and onto the floor. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he glared at her. His dark eyes burned, and she suddenly saw the flicker of an emotion in them she never thought she'd see.

Hatred.

"What am I doing?" He repeated the words slowly, as though she were a not too bright child. "I'm standing in my kitchen, eating. What are you doing? I don't recall inviting you!"

Ariadne took a deep breath. She walked forward.

"You're not eating Arthur." She spoke firmly. "You're bingeing. You're bingeing on food that you know you're going to- going to-"

He looked straight at her.

"Going to what, Ariadne? Finish the sentence?"

"-throw up."

"Well, I didn't ask you to come over here. I didn't ask you to watch. Or is this some kind of kick for you? Do you get turned on by watching a fat guy stuff his face?"

Ariadne paled. A memory of her projection was starting to come back to her. She'd tried to shut it out, convince herself that it wasn't real, it wasn't Arthur. But now, watching him take another bagel and shove it in his mouth, forcing his jaw to jut uncomfortably, she realised that it was.

"No, I don't." She spoke more forcefully, although she was shaking. "I don't get turned on by watching you stuff your face, I don't get turned on by watching you hurt yourself. Arthur, you have an eating disorder. A friend of mine in High School died from one. She thought she was fat, she thought she was ugly, she just faded away-" her voice started to break.

Arthur looked at her. Contempt was beginning to snake across his face.

"So, that's what you were sent here to tell me. That you should try the 'oh, tell Arthur that you knew someone who died from what we all think he has, and that'll frighten him into stopping!' That really is pathetic. Eames and Cobb couldn't do better than that?"

Ariadne took a step forward. "Eames and Cobb didn't send me." She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. "I came because I care. Because I'm worried about you. Because I don't want you to-"

Arthur looked at her.

"-Die."

"You think I'm going to die because of this?" He gestured to the food that was crushed, spread, and displayed across the counter.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Yes."

He raised his eyebrows. "You know something? I never thought you were as smart as Cobb said. Looks like I was right."

Her jaw dropped. "Art-"

"Just get out." He shoved the bagel back into his mouth and chewed, defiantly.

Barely able to see due to the tears blurring her vision, Ariadne turned and ran for the stairs.

Eames knocked back the last of his Scotch, checked his watch, and decided to leave the bar. Cobb had left half an hour previously, and the Forger knew he needed a clear head for tomorrow. Telling Arthur he was going into a clinic was not going to be easy.

The Forger walked home, ignoring the catcalls from streetwalkers. His apartment was in one of the less salubrious areas of the city, and although he received offers, he didn't believe in taking them. "A true gentleman doesn't, darling", he'd once informed Arthur, who had snorted disbelievingly.

Though he would never admit it to Cobb, or Ariadne, Eames missed Arthur. Whilst his obsessive methodicalness had led the Forger to brand the Point Man a pain and a bore, he also knew that without it, they would not have dealt with the situations they'd been forced into in extractions. His ability to stay cool when the rest of the team were in a blind panic had saved their lives.

He remembered the Fischer job. He'd kept watch over them, whilst they were sunk in a dream in a hotel room. He'd fought off security, men bigger and brawnier than him. He'd used his most deadly weapon – his mind.

And now it was his mind that was killing him.

Eames pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, smoking as he walked along. What had possessed Arthur to co-operate with Saito? Eames had seen the photograph of Elise, and he had wondered if he'd been able to handle her. There was a hardness to her, a toughness, that indicated she'd seen too much too soon. She would have eaten Arthur alive. Eames would have made her beg.

He reached the outer door of his apartment block, and pulled it open. He suddenly became aware of a small figure sitting in the lobby, crying.

"Who is it?"

"Eames? Its me, Ariadne."

"Whats up, sweetheart?" Eames moved closer. As the Forger approached, she broke into sobs.

"Eames, its Arthur! Tonight I-"

"Come on,", the Forger said gently. "Lets go upstairs. I'll make you a cup of tea. Always helps in a crisis."

Cobb sat in a chair, overlooking the balcony. Tomorrow was going to be one of the hardest days of his life.

His cellphone shrilled. He picked it up, and opened it. "Dom Cobb."

"Nice little job you pulled this evening, Cobb. Using Ari was a low blow."

Cobb sat up straighter. "Arthur?"

"Yes, Arthur. The Point Man. The Point Man who you seem to think is incapable of running his life. So you send Ariadne to tell me that I'm going to die and threaten to put me in a clinic. Thanks Dom. Thanks a lot."

"Arthur." Cobb's voice took on a hard edge. "You seem to have this desperate desire to prove yourself at the moment. To prove how brave and daring you are. But you're also bingeing and vomiting uncontrollably. You have no sense of judgement."

"Oh, really? We'll see about that."

The phone went dead. Cobb slumped in his seat, wondering how things could have gone wrong, so quickly.