Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
"An extraction?!" Arthur's voice jumped slightly with his response to Ariadne's statement, but she shook her head, as though warning him to be quiet. "Ariadne, who are we going to perform this on-"
"Cobb," she replied, bluntly. "We have to get one of your doctor's involved, to see the truth."
"Its crazy." Arthur turned away. "Ariadne, they'll think I'm a dangerous psychopath. I'll get-"
"If we don't try, we'll never know," she said, her tone almost curt. "We have to get evidence that its Cobb, and not you."
Arthur looked at her. "Ariadne, if we do this-"
"Arthur, if we don't do this - you'll lose everything." Her heart was beginning to pound, but she looked at him clearly and directly. "You're in danger of going to jail. If you do, you'll never work again, you'll always be under suspicion." She felt her heart break as she said the words, but as Arthur looked at her, she continued. "We have to do this, find out what's really happened to Cobb."
Arthur paused, and reached out. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "All right," he said, quietly. He sounded faint, timid, and she bit her lip.
"Thank you," she said. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek, before the heavy bolt sliding back signified her visit was at an end.
Eames got up, and went into the kitchen. He needed a cup of coffee badly - his energy was beginning to drop. As he opened the cupboards, looking for a jar of instant, he heard a noise.
Pausing, he left his hand on the door, and began to walk into the other room. Cobb, looking slightly dishevelled, was standing in the lounge. "Where's Ariadne?" he asked, looking confused.
"She had to go out," Eames said, trying to temper his anger. He could have happily have gone for the slightly older man. Cobb rubbed his face. "Oh."
"Yes, oh."
Cobb swallowed. "Well, I may as well stay here." He walked past Eames into the kitchen. Eames blinked, noting the ease - the arrogance - with which Cobb helped himself to items in Ariadne's kitchen. As Cobb spooned coffee into a mug, Eames took a step closer.
"Arthur."
Cobb turned, blinking. "What?"
"Arthur," Eames repeated. "Let's talk about him. What do you reckon he's doing right now? Probably lying on a bed, gazing at the ceiling, wondering if he'll ever see daylight again. Or freedom."
Cobb turned. "What?"
"You incepted him," Eames said, calmly, his blood beginning to pulse. "What is it with you, Dom? Why do you feel this need to try and break the minds of everyone who is close to you? Mal, Arthur, Ariadne?" His voice was steady, concealing the shakiness he was feeling. "Is that the plan?"
Cobb looked at him. "You don't know anything," he said, his voice taut. "Do you really think Arthur could give Ariadne the life she wanted?!"
"Oh, I see, its all about what could happen, is it?" Eames lowered his voice. "Cobb, you are playing a dangerous-"
He stopped. The extractor had flung the coffee cannister at him, full force, in his face. As the forger reeled back, spluttering, Cobb turned, running out of the apartment.
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