Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!
Cobb swallowed as he faced the hotel receptionist. She looked up, unblinking.
"May I help you?"
"Yes," Cobb breathed. "I'm looking for an Ichiro Saito."
"One moment." She leaned over to check the computer, then straightened up, looking at him suspiciously. "We do not give out information about our guests."
"This is important," Cobb said, trying to keep his voice even. His eyes locked with hers. "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you tell me where he is."
She looked at him. "I can't. Good day, Sir."
With an icy precision, she turned from the desk. Cobb looked after her angrily, not daring to call her back.
"Do help yourself."
Arthur swallowed. He'd been ushered into an expensive looking dining room, decorated in tasteful, minimal style. Sitting opposite Fischer, he felt uncomfortable. A manservant was waiting on them, quietly, and unobtrusively. Arthur eyed the rich looking dishes, feeling a pang of disgust.
"Not hungry?"
Arthur looked into the icy blue eyes. "Are you trying to fatten me up?" He cursed himself inwardly for asking the question.
Robert smirked. "Why, Arthur? Think you need to be? Like some kind of prize goat?"
"No." Arthur flushed. He felt sensitive, and vulnerable, two emotions that he found alien and frightening. He reached for his wine glass, and took a sip. It burned a path to his stomach. He shuddered.
"So," Fischer said, conversationally. "Are you going to ask me why you're here?"
Arthur put his glass down and leaned forward. "Why?"
"Because I want you to undo the inception that Dom Cobb forced Saito to suggest." Arthur blanched, and Fischer smiled, maliciously. "Don't you remember? Saito agreed to get Cobb off a murder charge...if you put an idea in my head to dissolve my father's empire."
Arthur swallowed. He'd warned Cobb, and Saito. "The subject's mind can always trace the genesis of an idea."
"How do you know?" He asked, hoarsely.
"When I had to jail my godfather." Fischer glared at him, his eyes burning ice. "He tried to lock me out of my own company, claiming that I was making a mistake. I dug up some dirt on him, and found he was trying to fiddle the accounts. Of course, I now realise that what he was trying to do was stop me from making a mistake. The mistake of trusting the idea that was implanted. Implanted in my head, by Cobb."
Arthur's hand tightened around the glass. He felt dazed.
"I got Browning out, and then started investigating. Saito got in contact, and told me that he'd been pressured by Cobb into getting him back into the States. Saito needed something, so he gave him something he thought was impossible – inception."
"Saito didn't pressure Dom," Arthur said, his voice sounding faint. "Saito pressured Cobb..."
"Arthur," Fischer looked at him, almost sorrowfully. "Do you still believe Dom's bullshit? We're his victims, Arthur. He got me to try and throw away my inheritance – my billion dollar inheritance. He got you to believe that you were healthy. You're a sick man, Arthur, you need proper care and attention. You need help with your bulimia."
Arthur blinked. "What?"
"Arthur," Fischer said, his voice soothing. "Don't you realise just how ill you are?" He looked at him. "Its a miracle you can even stand up. But, don't worry. I'll see to it that you get the best treatment. If you do this for me."
"So, if I extract you, you'll cure my disorder?" Arthur looked at the young billionaire.
"Arthur. If you get this out of my head, I'll make sure you're cured. Properly."
Arthur blinked. "I don't think I'm sick. I'm just...fat."
Fischer smiled.
"Trust me, Arthur. I can fix that for you, to." Fischer smiled. "Cobb has kept you weak, sick, and fat. I can change that for you. Trust me."
Ariadne opened the door and peeked out. Eames smiled at her, kindly.
"Come in," she whispered.
He followed her in, noting that the apartment was in a state of disarray. He settled himself in the chair she gestured towards. "Thank you."
She curled up in the chair opposite. "No problem." Her face looked drawn, and Eames noted how she hugged the cushion to her chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first.
"He just...left," she said, tonelessly. "He grabbed his clothes, and left. He told me I had been lying to him all along." She stopped, her eyes brimming with tears.
Eames leaned forward. "Ari-"
"He hates me," she whispered. "He hates all of us." Turning to the table beside her, she flicked her bishop. It fell immediately to the table with a clunk. Bursting into tears, she collapsed against Eames' chest, her sobs echoing through the tiny room.