Dear Darling Readers,

Happy Independence Day to all of my American readers, and happy fourth day of July to everybody else! I apologize for the unprecedented length of time between my chapters. I fully intend that the next chapter be up more promptly, and again, I wish to reassure all that I will not abandon you mid-story. It may be slow going, but I promise that I am going somewhere with this tale, and I want to give you rich, complex chapters that make you feel like you've really seen progression of the plot, sub-plots, and/or character development. Part of the reason that I am taking this long is that I am not writing this entire thing in order. I have spoken to authors of murder mysteries who sit down and write their entire stories in order. All I can say to that is this - don't hold your breath. Another reason that things are not progressing as quickly as I would like (and I imagine, as quickly as you would like) is that I keep getting attacked by plot points and scenes from Inception story number three and, more recently, Avengers stories. What can I say? Inspiration comes when it comes, and for me, it has no sense of linear progression. (Also, you are absolutely going to LOVE the last chapter of my third Inception story.)

Also, I've had a lot of work lately, and, no lie, that takes out a lot of the free time to write, but on the other hand, so would being homeless...

So, once again, I am going to ask from you, my beloved reader, for feedback. It could be as involved as a play-by-play of your thoughts and feelings as you read through the chapter (which, no lie, would make my LIFE), or as simple as mentioning a couple of spots that your really enjoyed (or absolutely hated, as the case may be).

On a completely personal and unrelated note, I am employed! (HALLELUJAH!) In a real, full-time job with benefits and stuff! There's even going to be a business trip! It's as though I were a real grown-up!

As always, you have all of my love!
Ballerina Terminator

P.S. I have posted one Avengers short story and have two more very soon to be posted. If you haven't seen the Avengers movie, stop reading now and go see it. It is made of joy and happiness. (Although, you should see Thor, Capt. America, and both Iron Man movies first. That makes for the best Avengers movie experience.) Seriously though, I was taken aback by the awesomeness. It has joined Inception in my top 5 favorite movies. Go now. I'll be here when you get back. This story will keep. Back now? Excellent! Wasn't it wonderful?

P.P.S. My new job gives me a great deal of insight into criminality and the American justice system, and while that is actually going to help me with this story in a lot of new ways, what I really need is a better understanding of the French justice system, so if anyone who knows about it could give me an overview and answer a few questions especially pertaining to the law enforcement side of things, I would really appreciate it. I wish to avoid glaring mistakes due to my ignorance.

Edit: Sorry about the re-upload. There were a couple of sentences with stray words in them, and I figured that I'd fix it right off.

Chapter 3 - Off Topic

Eames and Arthur stood outside Ariadne and Marie-Claude's apartment, considering the possible usefulness of knocking on their door for a third time and Arthur was debating internally the practicability of trying Ariadne's cell for a fifth time when Marie-Claude threw open the door. She stood there, a shawl thrown around her shoulders, with her honey-brown tresses in disarray and her soft sage eyes red and sleepy.

She glared out at Eames and Arthur who stood in the entrance with impatient looks on their faces.

"There had better be a very good reason for you to get me out of bed at this unholy hour," she snapped.

They regarded her in shock and confusion for a moment before they consulted their watches.

"It is one-thirty, isn't it?" Eames asked. "We just got in an hour ago, but I'm sure I got the time right."

Marie-Claude just sighed irritably and swung the door open wide gesturing for them to come in. "Ariadne is still asleep, I think. The woman could sleep through the bombing of Paris, so she would not hear the knocking." She led the way to the bedroom that belonged to Ariadne, and after knocking and poking her head into the room and seeing Ariadne huddled under a mass of blankets on the bed, she opened the door the rest of the way and walked in. She leaned over Ariadne and shook her shoulder.

"Ari, wake up."

A slight groan came from the Architect, but nothing more, so Marie-Claude tried again, shaking harder this time.

"Ariadne you have to wake up!"

Ariadne just pulled the blankets more tightly around her. "Go 'way. 'S cold," came the slurred response from within the covers. When Marie-Claude continued to stand over her stubbornly, she just burrowed deeper in the blankets. "I'm tired, and I am not losing any more sleep over that awful man!"

Arthur and Eames gave Marie questioning looks to which Marie-Claude responded with her own exhausted gaze.

"I do not wish to speak of it," she said wearily. "You are on your own."

Eames leaned in toward Arthur. "I believe that this is something that I will leave to you," Eames said with a sly smile. "I'm going to see if I can find the coffee. I hope it wasn't anything that you did."

Vaguely worried but unable to identify anything that he could have done in the course of the last 14 hours that could have incurred Ariadne's wrath, Arthur decided to go for broke. He walked around the bed, sat down next to her, leaned over, and planted a firm kiss directly on her mouth.

Ariadne's eyes popped open from the shock.

Arthur was momentarily stunned when he was tackled in the most forceful hug that he had ever received. Feeling considerably more pleased than he had up until this point as his only contact with the woman since he had left Tokyo had been hearing a recording of her voice when her phone had sent him straight to voicemail. However, his joy began to subside when her grip on him continued just as strong and her face remained buried in his shoulder. He waited for a moment for her to say something, but when no words were forthcoming, he pulled her carefully but firmly away from him and looked her up and down warily.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, but with an undertone that made it clear that he was intent on the information.

Ariadne sighed, flopped back onto the bed, brown curls flying everywhere, and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

"I was going to try to meet you at the airport, and I didn't even hear my alarm go off!"

"Actually," Arthur said, picking up her cell phone from her night stand to inspect it more closely, I believe that your phone needs charging."

Ariadne made a noise that was something between a groan and a whine. "God, what a night; you just aren't going to believe it."

"Does it have something to do with this 'awful man' that you are not losing any more sleep over?" he asked, relaxing as she yawned and stretched.

"Durant Tessier," she said peevishly. "What an absolute nightmare."

"That bad?"

"So, so much worse," she insisted.

"It can't have been that bad," he teased. "What could have happened since I spoke to you last?"

"Well," Ariadne replied with a hint of irritation at his flippancy, "as soon as I hung up and went back inside, I did manage to trip over the dead body of my ex-boyfriend."

"The dead body of your ex-boyfriend?" he asked in a deadpan voice.

"Yes, like I said, I damn well tripped over it," she said with a scowl. "Someone decided that the world would be a better place if he had a knife in his chest, a sentiment in which I cannot find fault, and then they left him in front of the door that led from the kitchen out onto the balcony where I was speaking to you."

"You were out there when he was killed?" Arthur asked with a mix of horror and incredulity.

"Had to be," she said simply. "The reason I was out there in the first place was to avoid him!"

"That's the person that you were trying to avoid last night?" he asked as his memory threw up a red flag. "The one who was 'exceedingly unpleasant'?"

"One in the same."

"Who killed him?" Arthur asked, still trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

Ariadne shook her head. "God only knows, and He isn't telling me. Someone at the party is all we know. When his current girlfriend went to pieces she was nice enough to make it clear that she felt that I was somehow not an innocent bystander. So, you can imagine how well that went over," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"No arrests were made?" Arthur asked, who was, if anything, certainly quick on the uptake.

"Not a one. After it was determined that the investigation was going nowhere, they took our information, told us not to leave the city, and let us go home," Ariadne said in tones of finality. "Anyway, that's more than enough about my evening. Tell me, how was Japan? Did you get to see Saito?"

"Japan was quite cold, and Saito sends his regards," Arthur said, obviously not distracted. "Ari, I really need to know more about what happened."

"Arthur," Ariadne said firmly. "Yesterday, I had an awful day, and I don't want to think about it any longer, much less discuss it. We were up until nearly five in the morning talking to the investigator in charge, and I'm sick of it."

"I don't like this," Arthur said, ignoring her last statement. "I don't like this at all. Come on, Eames is making coffee. I want to discuss the situation with him."

"But its cold," she complained, still wrapped up in her heavy blankets.

"Bring the blankets, and I'll build up the fire for you in the fireplace. Come on," he said, all business. "I'll have it going by the time you get dressed."

"Can I at least get another kiss first?" she asked hopefully.

Arthur smiled, and, sliding his arms around her, pulled her close for what turned out to be more than just one kiss, but after a minute, he pulled away firmly. "Now come. We really do need to talk about his," he said, once again serious, although he was still smiling when he said it.

When Arthur left he closed the door behind him and moved into the living room where he could hear Eames speaking to Marie-Claude in the kitchen. He took of his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch before rolling up his sleeves and setting to work on building up a fire.

He was just about finished when Eames and Marie-Claude came out into the living room to join him.

"Ariadne should be joining us in a minute," Arthur said, standing up and brushing his hands together to shake of bits of wood and ash. He accepted the proffered cup of coffee from a grim-faced Eames. "Although, if she doesn't join us soon," Arthur said, glancing toward her room, "I may get you to go check on her and make sure she actually got out of bed."

"She does not move very quickly in the mornings," Marie-Claude reassured him. "I'm sure she will not be too much longer."

"Marie-Claude has been catching me up on last night's events," Eames said. "This may be a problem."

"I know," Arthur said unhappily. "Tell me, you were there, how bad do things look for her."

Marie-Claude glanced toward the bedrooms before leaning in and speaking low. "Do not repeat this to Ariadne or I will have you killed, but when she screamed and I ran into the kitchen and saw her there on the floor with blood all over her and the dead body of Tessier with a knife in him, I thought that he had attacked her and she had killed him. Do not misunderstand; I never thought that it was anything but self-defense, but until she said otherwise, that's how I saw things. Mind you, I am not entirely out of trouble either. Several people went in and out of the kitchen in the twenty or thirty minutes before he was found dead by Ariadne, and I was one of them. Still, the last time anyone admits to having seen him was when he followed Ariadne into the dining room."

After a moment's pause, she reluctantly added, "After they had argued."

Both Arthur and Eames winced, understanding fully the gravity of the situation. The conversation was interrupted when Ariadne, dressed for comfort and hair not brushed but tied back, came into the living room and curled up in the chair closest to the fire. Eames gave her a peck on the top of her head and placed a cup of coffee on her hands.

"Drink up," he told her. "We need that clever brain of yours to be running on all cylinders."

"I don't see why. I was on the phone with Arthur when it happened, and I've told the police everything that I did, very candidly," Ariadne insisted. "I'd prefer not to worry about it."

"You'll really have to worry about it if you get arrested for it," Eames said with unusual lack of tact. "And that will thoroughly undo all of our hard work making sure you are seen as the victim of the Shaw debacle."

For just a second, Ariadne appeared obviously shaken, but the expression was fleeting

"Are you saying that because I tripped over a dead body that I will become infamous the world over as violent and untrustworthy," Ariadne said defensively. Arthur knelt down next to her.

"You might if you get blamed for it," Arthur said, not pleased with the direction this conversation was going. "And that will be less important than having to mount a defense for a murder trial. If there is a way to keep that from happening we need to find it because, as the person who found the body, you are going to be the only suspect until they have a chance to find out if anyone else had a motive and the opportunity to kill him."

"That should be pretty simple," she replied bitterly, "knowing him."

"And it would be even simpler if we can figure out who might have killed him ourselves."

"Look, I don't care who killed him," Ariadne said, once again defensive. "As far as I am concerned, this is not my problem!"

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Ariadne absolutely jumped at the opportunity. She pulled open the door to Eloise who was holding a child of barely toddler size, who was easily identifiable as her daughter, Celeste.

"Ellie!" Ariadne cried. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tomorrow!"

"I came home as soon as I heard!" Eloise said breathlessly, while the baby in her arms was reaching out for her godmother. "As soon as I got the whole story from Geoffrey, I came to see how you were doing."

The insistent infant cries of "Adie, Adie!" were not to be ignored, and Ariadne took up her godchild and gave her a kiss.

"Hey, sweet baby," Ariadne said. "Am I glad to see you!" Having momentarily satisfied the want of attention from Celeste, Ariadne turned back to the child's mother. "I'm fine, Ellie, really," Ariadne reassured her. "I am pleased you brought the baby over. Come on in. I think that there is still fresh coffee."

Having realized that she had lost her godmother's focus, Celeste began to pull on Ariadne's sleeve and repeated her pleas for attention with more cries of "Adie, Adie!"

Ariadne dutifully returned her attention to the little girl. "Oui, mon ami," Ariadne said affectionately, extracting her sleeve from the grip of the toddler. "What do you want?"

A string of syllables followed, incomprehensible to all but those experienced with the pronunciations of children learning to speak, and despite not understanding the words, it was clear to Arthur that Celeste had just made a request.

"You are hungry, and you want something to eat?" Ariadne asked, requesting confirmation.

The child nodded emphatically, and Ariadne looked up at Celeste's mother.

"Is she really hungry, or is this a ploy for something sugary?" Ariadne asked suspiciously.

"We had lunch a couple of hours ago, but she did not eat very much, so I would not be surprised if she has finally decided to eat."

"Well, then," Ariadne said brightly, once again addressing Celeste, "Adie is hungry too, so let's go see what we can find in the kitchen!"

Disappearing into the kitchen with Celeste in tow, Ariadne had clearly and successfully removed herself from the discussion.

Eloise joined the others in front of the fire where she greeted them with a smile. "So," she said, "Ariadne seems to be taking this surprisingly well." After she glanced around at all of the grim faces, she continued carefully, "Perhaps a little too well?"

"You could say that," Marie-Claude said mildly.

"You didn't have to scare her," Arthur snapped at Eames.

"Oh, yes, I did," Eames said simply. "I know you'd rather she was happy, and that's understandable. However, in this situation, she ought to be scared. It is better for her in the long run to be scared and dealing with the situation instead of trying to pretend that everything is all sunshine and rainbows."

"So, things are not so good," Eloise said. In response, Marie-Claude just rolled her eyes and gave her head the slightest of shakes.

"This fellow that died," Eames began.

"Durant Tessier," Marie-Claude supplied.

"Right," he continued. "What exactly is his history with our beloved Miss Gray?"

"I see why Ariadne isn't talking about it," Ellie declared. "It is not exactly something she'd be proud of."

"What a creep he turned out to be," Marie-Claude agreed. "Had I known he was there, we should never have gone."

"Well, it is obvious that things ended badly, but how did they begin?" Eames asked. "What convinced a clever girl like Ariadne to go out with such a jerk?"

"Because," Marie-Claude said as though it were painfully apparent, "he didn't start out behaving like such a jerk. When she met him, he was charming and friendly. Surely, you do not believe when they met and he said "I want to make you feel worthless, do you want to date me?' and she said 'Take me, I'm yours!' Of course not! He told her she was pretty and sounded like he meant it. He was attentive and was interested in everything that she did. He bought her flowers, and he would give her a ride to school, so she did not have to walk."

Eloise explained. "He made her feel like he really cared about her."

"How did they meet?" Arthur asked, pulling his notebook from his back pocket.

"Through Geoffrey," Eloise admitted. "They worked in the same company. They still did until last night." She gave him a penetrating look. "Are you taking notes on this?"

Arthur looked up surprised. "Yes," he said uncertainly. "If we're going to figure out who killed him, we need to know as much as we can about him."

"Researching for a job is one of his strong points," Eames interjected. "Although apparently tact is not." Arthur shot him a look that was both irritated and defensive.

"I thought that you were in public relations," Ellie said.

"Only for other people," Eames said brightly.

"Anyway," Arthur said pointedly, before the subject of their own occupations could continue, "What was his position in the company?"

"Some sort of accountant," she said.

"So, it didn't start out bad. When did things change?" Eames asked.

"Oh, maybe a month or so after they had started dating," Marie-Claude said thoughtfully, "I remember he started to be very" - she paused to consider - "critical of her, any time she did something or said something that he didn't like."

"For example?" Eames asked.

Marie-Claude considered. "He didn't like it when she didn't answer her phone when he called or call him back quickly enough."

"Remember when she overslept and was fifteen minutes late meeting him for dinner?" Ellie asked.

"I remember she came home without having dinner," Marie-Claude said. "She told me that when he had started to get on her case for being late, she told him that she was too tired to listen to him snap at her for an honest mistake, and she left." The note of pride in her voice was matched only by the amusement. "He came over the next day with presents and profuse apologies."

"Then there was the time Geoffrey and I went out with them," Eloise said. "He would glower if she so much as smiled at the doorman."

"That was nothing to the time when Jean-Luc gave her that pink scarf for her birthday," Marie-Claude continued, really warming to her subject. "You would have thought that he had given her lingerie, the way Durant reacted."

"Then there were the little things that he would say to her," Ellie said. "That was worse."

"Like what?"

"Many times he would point out something wrong with how she looked. The dress that she was wearing was too worn or her hair was out of place. I heard him tell her once that she laughed too loud. When he started doing that, he would say it as though he was just trying to be helpful, but it happened more and more, and after a while she was always worried about what was wrong with her. He would make her feel terrible, and then he had the nerve to tell her how lucky she was to have him. The horrible thing was that she was starting to believe it. This went on for three or four months."

"Probably a good thing he's already dead," Arthur murmured to himself, not looking up from his notes.

"Out of curiosity, how did he take criticism?" Eames asked. Arthur glanced over at him, eyebrows raised, but he didn't say anything. He could tell that Eames had an idea and he was looking for evidence to support it.

The women also seemed to sense that there was a purpose to this line of questioning because they too exchanged a significant look.

"It is funny that you should mention it," Marie-Claude said. "He was very touchy when it came to any kind of opposition. At one point, I told him that I thought she looked lovely when he made one of those horrible little comments, and he was very defensive."

"How did it end?" Eames asked. "The relationship, I mean."

The women exchanged shocked glances.

"You mean, you don't know?" Marie-Claude asked.

"Well, it was obvious that she was just about fed up by this point, but the nail in the coffin was when she found out about the other woman."

"Other woman?" Arthur exclaimed.

"It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head," Marie-Claude said. "It was incroyable. She pawned the jewelry that he had given her. She slammed the door in his face after she told him that he was horrible and that she never wanted to see him again."

"How did he take it?" Eames asked dubiously.

"Not well," Marie-Claude said emphatically. "He begged and pleaded to be forgiven. He yelled and blamed her for being cold. In the end, she threatened to call the police if he did not leave."

"And how did Ariadne take it?" Arthur asked.

"Not how I expected," Marie-Claude said thoughtfully. "I was afraid it hurt her or that she would be embarrassed, but I don't think it fazed her at all. I waited for her to break down in tears or wonder if she had done something wrong, but it never happened. I think there was some part of her that knew how bad things were, and she just looking for an excuse to end it."

"Ariadne had much more trouble before," Ellie said. "She had not done much time dating. I think she must have suspected that Tessier was not good to her, but she was not sure that she was not to blame. When she found out about the other woman, it simply became clear to her that Tessier had always been more concerned with himself than her. After that, he was no longer her problem."

"She wasn't upset at all?" Eames asked suspiciously.

"I did not say that she was not upset," Marie-Claude said. "I just said that she was not sad."

"She was angry," Eames surmised.

"Livid," Marie-Claude confirmed. "She was angry at him for treating her so badly, and she was angry at herself for letting him. She still is, and she is probably more angry now that he has gotten himself killed and left her with the mess."

"Probably rather embarrassed as well, I should think," Ellie guessed, "now that she can hardly hope to avoid discussing her former beau with her current beau."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Like many other people in a new relationship, he was growing increasingly aware of the difference between knowing a person well and knowing about all of the previous experiences that had gone into making them that person. Although, unlike most people who had the opportunity to discover these things naturally as they spent time together, he had found himself necessarily extracting these events, and their resulting effects, from those closest to the woman he cared for so deeply. It made him feel disloyal. He covered for this by steering the thread firmly away from Ariadne.

"What can you tell me about him since that time?" he asked. "What friends did he have, past or recent? Who among his fellow employees, if any, does he spend time with at work?"

Marie-Claude shrugged and shook her head.

"Honestly, I think Geoffrey would be better able help you with those questions," Ellie admitted. "He does, or did, still work with him, although they were in different departments."

Arthur leaned back in his seat and looked at Eames. "What do you are you thinking?"

"Probably a Borderline Personality," Eames said. "From what they say, he would fit the profile. It's even possible that he had some sociopathic leanings, but that's hard to say without more background."

"Would it be helpful to know, you think?"

Eames shrugged. "Depends," he admitted. "Can't hurt. If he was then he probably left a lot of crappy relationships in his wake, and not just romantic ones either. He might have come across as charming and thoughtful to start out with, but that façade couldn't last forever, and usually not for very long. I mean, Ariadne took less than half a year to slam a door in his face, right?"

Marie-Claude nodded.

"Well, there were scads of business associates at that party that are worth taking a closer looking at," Eames said. "Speaking of which, you said that you had gone into the kitchen after the last time Tessier was seen, but you didn't see the body?" This last was directed at Marie-Claude.

She shook her head. "He was behind a counter in a place that could not be seen from either of the doors that led into the kitchen from the other rooms. He could have been dead when I was there, but I don't know for certain."

"What about Geoffrey," he continued. "Do you know if he could have gone into the kitchen during the time in question? "

"Not a chance. Several people were watching us play chess at the time, and he never rose from his seat."

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about him," Arthur said. "Just you and Ariadne."

"Me?" she asked surprised.

"You didn't think we'd help Ariadne and leave you to fend for yourself, did you?" Arthur said with mild indignation.

"We are, of course, working under the assumption that you didn't kill him," Eames said with a bemused smile.

"Oh, merci," she replied with a hint of sarcasm, "but how can you be so sure that it wasn't me?"

"Well, to be honest, we can't be absolutely certain," Eames admitted, "but as much time as you spent fretting about what kind of trouble Ari could be getting into while working with us, it seems unlikely that you would promptly turn around and let her take the rap for you."

"Giving me credit for not being soulless, are you? How kind." There was a slightly acidic edge to her voice that Arthur picked up for the warning that it was. He interrupted before Eames could continue to amuse himself by irritating her further. Eames tended to become more childish when he was worried and didn't want to show it, and now, under the added stress of inaction, he was threatening to become positively infantile.

"Eames, you still have some friends within the Paris law enforcement, right?"

"There are a couple of guys that shouldn't mind having me drop in on them," he said, brightening, "even if Sgt. Da Silva does still owe me a drink."

"Maybe you should call him and see if he would be willing to pay up," Arthur suggested, "if not today, then tomorrow."

"We still need Ariadne on board," Eames said. "Sooner rather than later."

"You know, she probably needs a little more time," Marie-Claude suggested. "I think that if you give her a chance to get over the initial shock, she'll probably come around on her own."

"Normally, I'd agree with you," Eames said, "but in this instance, I'm worried about letting her go too long before talking over last night's events. She could start to remember things wrong, or worse, start to block things out altogether."

"Do you think that's likely?" Marie-Claude asked.

Eames shrugged. "It happens," he said as he stood and began to head for the door to the kitchen. Arthur quickly stood to follow.

Just passed the kitchen was a small office that had a television sitting on a shelf in a corner. Ariadne sat on the floor with the baby, several pillows gathered around, and a full tray of food sitting next to them. Both Ariadne and Celeste sat watching Winnie-the-Pooh - in English, Arthur noticed – while taking bites of food from the plates on the tray. Even after Eames and Arthur came into the room, both pairs of eyes remained fixed upon their movie.

"Hey, Ari," Eames started. "We need to talk."

"This had better be good," Ariadne said darkly, eyes not leaving the screen, "because you are interrupting Winnie-the-Pooh."

"It is important."

"More important than Pooh?"

"Ariadne, we have got to talk to you about this guy Tessier and what happened last night," Eames said not unkindly, but firmly.

Ariadne shot him a heated glare, tearing her gaze from the movie for the first time. "Let's be clear. There will never be a good enough reason to interrupt Winnie-the-Pooh if that reason includes him," she said, the last word dripping with acid.

"Now if you want to watch too, you are welcome to take a seat on the couch and join us, but you still have to be quiet."

At the word, 'quiet', Celeste looked up at the adults around her, put her finger to her lips, and said, "Shh!" She was obviously proud of having mastered this particular learning concept, judging by the look of satisfaction that came when Ariadne gave her a pat on the back.

"Yes, mon ami, that's right." Ariadne said encouragingly before turning back to the television as though no interruption had taken place.

Arthur caught Eames's eye and gave an emphatic nod toward the door. Eames didn't look happy about it, but he followed Arthur back into the living room.

"How did it go?" Ellie asked, looking up from the text message that she was typing out.

"Your daughter kicked us out," said Eames, apparently uncertain about how that conversation had gotten away from him so quickly.

Ellie tried and failed to suppress a look of amusement and incredulity. "I have received a message from Geoffrey. He has gotten a call from an inspector associated with the murder case asking him to come in this afternoon for an interview."

"Really? That could be illuminating," Arthur said with interest.

"I have told him that I will go with him," Ellie said, snapping her phone shut.

"I will go with you if you don't mind," Eames said. "I can see when one or two of my friends are going to be on shift."

"I would appreciate the company," Ellie said. Then, turning to Marie-Claude, she asked, "Do you think it would be okay to leave Celeste with Ariadne for three or four hours?"

"Oh, certainly," Marie-Claude assured her. "Ari will be pleased. You should also join us for dinner about seven. That way we will get a chance to hear about Geoffrey's interview with the police inspector.

"Good idea," Arthur said approvingly. "I can use the time until dinner to see what can find on my own." He pulled his laptop from his bag and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. "The internet should be able to tell me something new."

"Wonderful," Marie-Claude said with a sigh. "While you are each off being more productive, I am going to try to get some more sleep."

Arthur took a seat on the couch after the others had departed and began the collection of information, starting with the news stories relating to the murder of Durant Tessier on the night before. By the time Marie-Claude emerged again from her bedroom nearly two hours later, now showered, dressed, and considerably more alert than when he had first seen her that afternoon, Arthur had already downloaded several stories for future perusal that included not only stories pertaining to the previous night's events, but also stories that pertained to the company as a whole, up to three years earlier. He had moved on to sifting through Tessier's social networking profiles when Marie-Claude had breezed through and declared that she was going to do the shopping for dinner.

It was some fifteen minutes later, after Arthur had become thoroughly sick of looking at the Facebook page of a man he was quickly learning to detest and he had moved onto trying to hack into Tessier's work e-mail, when Ariadne came out into the living room carrying a sleeping toddler. She curled up on the couch next to him with Celeste in her lap, looking positively downcast.

He sat the laptop down and wrapped his arms around her.

"Arthur, I don't want to have anything to do with this murder," she said quietly.

"I know," he said sympathetically, kissing the top of her head.

After a couple of moments of silence, Ariadne spoke again. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, her voice heavy with resignation.

"I need you to show me what happened," he answered simply.


P.P.P.S. I don't own Inception or, sadly, Winnie-the-Pooh. They belong to Christopher Nolan and Christopher Robin, respectively. (And Disney might come into it somewhere. *wink* )