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Arthur exhaled and looked at his watch. "Two hours, Fran, that's all you've got," he muttered. He checked her pulse, noting it was steady. Satisfied, he leaned back.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. Something cold was pressing at the back of his head.

"Let me go," Jensen's voice was quavering; Arthur tensed. "Let me go, and you'll never see me again. Please. I want to go. Please let me." His voice was starting to break.

Arthur swallowed. "Put the gun down, now. You'll end up killing us both."

"I won't kill you." The man paused. "I want to go. Please let me. Please." Jensen's voice was shaking; Arthur could detect the first signs of hysteria.

Arthur got up, and turned to Jensen. "Come on." He lowered and softened the tone of his voice. "Come on Mike, you don't have to do this. Put the gun down."

Jensen's hands were trembling. With a sense of shock, Arthur watched as he raised the gun, and pointed it at his chest.

"Mike." Arthur's voice was calm. "If you shoot me, you'll stay here. Do you want that?"

Fran looked around. The sheer whiteness of the walls was dazzling. She turned, and a figure in white hurried past.

"Excuse me!" She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. The figure stopped, and glared at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for a man called Eames." Her voice had shifted into its crisp, cool, professional demeanour. She looked at the figure. It was a male nurse.

"Oh…" the nurse looked surprised. "He's just had shock treatment. He's in room 234."

Fran nodded. "And where is that?"

"Down the corridor, first turning to the left."

She tried ringing again, and it went straight to voicemail.

"Hi, this is Dom Cobb. Please leave a message, I'll call you back. Thanks."

Ariadne swallowed. "Dom? Its Ariadne. I'm sorry, but after what Arthur did, I can't continue with this job. I can't believe he betrayed us all like that. I am so sorry, but I never want to see or work with him again. He let me down-" her voice started to crack – "never told us the truth. I'm sorry Dom. I'm flying to Vancouver tonight to see my family. Bye."

As she clicked off, she began to cry.

"Talk to me Mike." Arthur was surprised at how calm his voice was. "Talk to me. Why do you think shooting me is going to help?"

"You killed Rafe." Jensen's voice trembled. "He loved me. You killed him."

Arthur swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mike."

"He made me feel special." Mike's lip was trembling, and Arthur noticed the trembling had accelerated in his hands. "You probably have someone who makes you feel special all the time."

"No, I don't." Arthur spoke calmly. "I don't have anyone who makes me feel special." He felt his heart give a painful little twist.

"You don't?"

"No, I don't." Arthur closed his eyes. Thoughts of Ariadne were hard to bear.

"Then," Jensen said, and Arthur's eyes flew open as he heard an ominous click. "You won't be missed, will you?"

The corridor was cold. Fran hurried down it, trying to ignore the hostile stares she was attracting. Various shouts and screams were echoing down the long white space, richocheting and increasing in volume. As she turned a corner, she felt her heart start to lift in relief – room 234 was in front of her.

Swallowing, she turned the handle. As she walked in, she saw Eames.

He was completely unconscious, with bruising to his temples. Biting her lip, she walked over to his prone form. His eyes were shut, his expression almost peaceful.

She touched his shoulder, gently. "Eames? Eames, can you hear me?"

"If you kill me - ." Arthur met Jensen's eyes – the gun was at point blank range. He swallowed. "If you kill me, you might live to regret it. Rafe was a killer. You're not."

"Rafe loved me."

"Yes, Mike. He loved you so much, he made you his accomplice." Arthur saw suspicion and fear mingle across Jensen's small features. He took a deep breath and continued. "Why did you agree to it? Why did you agree to help him kill her? What was in to for you?"

"Eames? Listen to me. Its Fran Roberts. You're currently under sedation. This isn't real. I'm going to-" she paused. What could she say?

Suddenly, an idea came to her. Turning, she began to leave the room. On her way out, a young female nurse approached her.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a doctor." Fran's voice was coldly authorative. "I need to get to the pharmacy."

The nurse shook her head. "No."

Fran gritted her teeth. Projections. Smiling, she reached to her waist, and pulled out a gun. Cocking it, she directed it at the nurse.

"Either you show me the paharmacy, or I use this."

The nurse blinked. "Of course, this way."

"I didn't want her to die…I didn't want her to die…"

"I didn't say you did." Arthur was beginning to lose his patience. "Just…tell me what you know."

"If I do, will you let me go?"

"Of course I will." Arthur smiled at Jensen, the smile softening his features. "Come on, you can tell me."

Fran kept the gun close as she went into Pharmacy. The coldness of the psych unit was beginning to creep over her skin. She shivered, and began to search through the neatly stacked bottles of pills and liquid.

She found what she wanted. Quickly, she grabbed it, and then pulled out a small metal drawer, fishing out a packet of fresh syringes. Tucking them into her suit jacket, she hurried out, heading straight back to Eames.

He banged against the wood. Still no movement.

Desperation was beginning to flood him. He was beginning to feel increasingly short of breath. He gave one final push. Nothing.

Fran looked at the full syringe. Laying it carefully on the metal tray by the bed, she gently took Eames' side, and pushed him so he was facing the wall.

He didn't stir. She tucked her fingers around the waistband of his tunic, and pulled it down around his hips. Picking up the syringe, she slid the needle gently into the skin of his buttocks.

"Wake up, please," she whispered, and slammed the shot of vitamin B-12b into him.

"I can tell you?"

"You can tell me what you like." Arthur's voice was cajoling. "I promise I won't tell anyone else."

"You won't?"

"No, I won't." Arthur was struggling to keep his patience. He looked at Jensen. "Just tell me what you know!"

Jensen smiled. "You really want to?"

"Yes!"

Jensen looked at him. "OK, first, we did this to her-"

Arthur screamed as the bullet tore through his thigh. Staggering slightly, the pain threatened to engulf him. He swallowed, Jensen looked at him, shocked.

Eames began to stir. "Huugh?"

"Eames?" Fran's voice was tense; she'd already re-filled the syringe. "Eames, its Fran. Can you hear me?"

The Forger's eyes were flickering. "Wha-ermm-huh…"

She swallowed. "Eames, its Fran. You were sedated, you've had a shot of vit b-12. It should have helped re-start your system."

His eyes flickered. Fran took a deep breath.

"OK, Eames," she muttered, "you asked for it. Second dose is what you're getting!"

Arthur gripped his thigh – the blood was oozing. He checked his watch – Fran had twenty minutes left until the kick. He closed his eyes, starting to feel nauseas with the pain.

"I've hurt you." Jensen's face was ashen. "Oh, I didn't mean to-" he turned the gun, and put it in his mouth.

"No!" Arthur shouted, fear slicing through the pain. "God, No!"