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

Eames sat in the waiting room, flicking his eyes around. He was dressed conservatively, in a plain black suit with a white shirt and tie. With a leather briefcase by his feet, he thought drily that he would probably get a nod of approval from Arthur.

"Mr Winters?"

His head jerked over, to where a young receptionist stood, smiling. He stood up, and returned her greeting, noting she blushed slightly. He spoke cordially.

"Yes, thats right." Eames was smooth, and courteous. "I'm here to see Mr Fischer."

She nodded. "Of course, Sir. He's in a meeting, but I'll let him know you're here. Can I get you anything? Tea, Coffee, water?"

"Black coffee would be lovely."

She walked in the direction of a corridor. Eames pulled a folder out of the case, and pretended to study it. As he did so, he heard voices.

"Robert says you're my new assistant."

"I am. We met a couple of days ago."

"Oh, right."

Eames blinked. "Arthur?" he mumbled. Carefully, he shifted position in his chair, trying to overhear the conversation more clearly.

"Well, I don't need one, but as you're here..." a pause. Then a door shut. Frustrated, Eames settled back in his seat.

"Your coffee?"

Looking up, Eames accepted the cup, smiling. "Thank you."

"Mr Fischer will see you in ten minutes."

"Thank you."

Arthur settled himself at his desk. Papers were stacked neatly, and a Mac notebook was switched on and ready to use. He swallowed as Browning approached.

"Right, I want you to go through these." Browning put a pile of papers on the desk. "I want you to look at the investments. Make sure you do it carefully. The smallest mistake can cost us money. Understand?"

Arthur nodded. No-one needed to tell him about mistakes. "Of course."

"I want it done by 12. Understand?"

"Of course."

"Do you have anything else to say?" Browning looked at him, scrutinising. "Or has Robert given me an automaton, devoid of personality or unable to say anything else?"

""I have plenty to say for myself." The words came out with a harsh, grating quality, and the Point Man flinched, surprised at himself. Reaching in his pocket, he grabbed at his totem. Correct weight.

Browning looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "Just do your work."

Arthur smiled. "I will."

"Mr Winters? Mr Fischer is in his office."

Eames nodded, and stood. Straightening his jacket, he walked in. The pale, languid figure of Robert Fischer was slumped in an expensive leather chair. He was holding a cellular phone to his left ear.

"Oh, its working perfectly. Absolutely perfectly." He smiled. "Of course I'll keep you posted." He clicked off as Eames approached.

"Well, well," Fischer drawled. "I wondered how long it would take Dom Cobb to send his trained gorilla to me. Come to find Arthur, have you?"

Eames shrugged. "Dom just wanted me to infiltrate. I decided a direct approach would be better." He put his hands on the desk, and leaned forward. "Where is he?"

Fischer smiled. "He's safe."

The Forger's eyes flashed. "With you, he's anything but. What are you doing, Robert?"

"Well, its this way." Fischer stood up. "Ichiro Saito came to me, telling me he wanted Arthur to help a sting on a computer genius. He didn't know the computer genius' girlfriend was an old flame of Cobb's. And Arthur has his own problems."

Eames narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing with him?"

"For now?" Robert's face was a mask of innocence. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." Eames bit out the word.

"He works for me." Fischer turned and began walking back to his desk chair, settling himself into it. "He works for me, Eames. He's content. Leave him be."

Eames walked forward. When he spoke, his words bit with venom.

"Arthur is a lot of things, Mr. Fischer. Content is not one of them. He's ill. Give him back to us. What do you have to gain from keeping him here?"

"You really want to see him?" Fischer's tone had changed - he now sounded almost concillatory.

"Yes."

Fischer stood up. "Come this way."

Cobb looked at Ariadne. The Architect was pale, and the dark shadows under her eyes betrayed her lack of sleep. He cleared his throat.

"Ari." She turned in his direction. "Ari, there's something you should know."

"What is it?" her words were pale, colourless.

"Eames and I think that the best thing to do for Arthur is to make sure he gets some proper treatment." His eyes met hers, and to his surprise, and relief, she nodded.

"Thats fine, Cobb. Really."

"You're sure?" his voice was gentle. "Because he could be away for several months. We may have to get another point." An idea suddenly flashed into his mind, but he kept it to himself.

Ariadne spoke. "Cobb, I won't do another inception on Arthur." She looked at him. "He thinks I lied to him about being in love with him."

"He thinks all of us lied, Ari," Cobb's words were sharper than he intended. "I won't do another inception. But we need to get him away from Fischer. And to do that, I need a hand."

Elise stood at the airport, checking the flight boards. The next flight to Buenos Aires was boarding. Swallowing, she walked towards the desk, and handed over her pass.

Saito had smiled at her. "Thank you," he'd said, and handed her a cheque. "With my blessing."

She had looked at the floor. "Don't contact me again."

"Of course not," he assured her. "And don't you ever contact them."

Arthur was bent over the desk, pouring over the paperwork. He'd removed his jacket, and his sharp shoulder blades looked as though they were about to pierce through the fabric. He was intent on what he was doing.

His stomach groaned, and he leaned back. He barely remembered what he'd eaten last night...then the thought came back to him, with a sense of sickening dread. Allie had been lying next to him when he'd woken up. A cold weight had settled in his stomach.

"Are- did-"

"Yes," she said, soothingly, and leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "You were incredible."

He'd leaned back, stunned. A feeling of guilt and unhappiness had moved through him. Ariadne should be next to him. Ariadne should be kissing him. He closed his eyes, trying to visualise the Architect - her petite frame, long hair. His heart felt sore. Suddenly, Allie had leaned over and kissed him again. He'd pushed her off, moving further over the side of the bed.

"Don't." he snapped the words out.

She shrugged. "If you feel that way." She'd got up, and grabbed her clothes. "Whatever, fat boy."

The words had hit him like a slap. He'd sunk back, feeling impotent, diminished. Whenever Ariadne had spoken to him, it was with love and the utmost respect. The way she'd looked at him. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine how-

"Arthur?"

He looked up. His eyes widened with shock. Eames was standing in front of him.

"Well," Eames said, trying to sound jovial. "I'd say you look well, but its as far from the truth as New York is from Los Angeles."

Arthur stiffened. "What do you-" His eyes narrowed.

Eames looked at Robert. "I've seen enough." He walked past the slighter man, noting the smirk on his face as he left.

Cobb swallowed, and finally, his face broke into a smile. "That's terrific. You have no idea." He paused. "Thank you so much. I mean that."

Ariadne looked up. "Who was that?"

"Backup," Cobb spoke with more optimism than he had for weeks. "In fact, they are the first person I should have called."

The two heard a click. Cobb looked up. "Eames!"

"Yes." The Forger appeared in the doorframe. His face was flushed a dull red. "Cobb, we have got to get him out of there. He looks-" he spotted Ariadne. "Oh, I'm sorry, Princess."

"No, its fine." She spoked firmly. "How is he?"

"Sick." Eames threw himself into a chair. "He's become Fischer and Browning's stooge." He rubbed his face. "What are they doing?"

"Using him." Cobb's words were firm. "They want to control him, use him as an extractor for business." He shook his head. "If Saito hadn't got to Arthur, we could have dealt with his illness. But Saito got involved, and he now wants revenge. On me. On us. So does Fischer."

"So what do we do?" Eames' tone was urgent. "Cobb, he looks as if he'll snap if someone grabs him!"

"Well, we get some help."

"Not another bloody therapist." Eames' face contorted in disgust.

"Not a therapist." Cobb looked at both Eames and Ariadne. "We someone who knows Arthur better than all of us." He swallowed. "I've called our original Point. And they're on their way."