Discliamer: Inception does not belong to me.

Trent drove. He had a calmness and purpose that Cobb both admired and envied. He sat next to him, trying to keep his eyes focused ahead. Eames was in the back, Arthur sprawled out, seemingly sleeping.

"How is he?" Cobb asked, his anxiety betrayed in his voice.

"Fast asleep," Eames responded. "Really."

Cobb exhaled slowly. "Good." He looked at Trent. The other Point was completely calm.

"About fifteen minutes," the blonde man spoke. He looked at Cobb. "That is what you wanted to know, right?"

Cobb nodded. "Yes." Trying to keep his hands from trembling, he let Trent continue with the drive.

Ariadne stiffened. She heard a shrill, insistent, beeping tone. Blinking, she looked around.

Arthur's cellphone. Looking at it, she saw the screen flash. Fischer.

She ignored it. After twenty rings, it finally stopped. Lying down, she pulled a pillow over her head, hoping that it didn't ring again.

Fischer clicked his cellphone off, his perfect features pulling into a scowl. He looked over at Browning.

"Arthur hasn't re-appeared," he said, his voice calm.

"Where did you send him?" Browning asked, frowning.

"On an errand." Fischer licked his bottom lip. "I trusted him to come back quickly."

Browning shrugged. "Well, Robert, this only shows what I've been trying to tell you. You can't be too trusting with people. Especially anyone who has had dealings with Ichiro Saito."

Robert looked irritated. "Arthur is completely loyal to me." He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers together. On impulse, he picked up the cellphone again, and dialled.

Cobb's phone vibrated in his pocket. Trent appeared oblivious, still driving. Cobb pulled it out of his pocket, and blinked - the number that flashed up was unknown. "Hello?"

"Dominic." Fischer's voice was smooth, oily; Cobb felt his bile rising. No-one called him Dominic, and he knew it was Fischer's way of trying to prove who held the upper hand. "Where is Arthur?"

Cobb swallowed. "Don't go in for pleasantries, will you? Robert."

Fischer ignored the jibe. "I'm being serious. He's my employee. Where is he?"

"How did you get this number?" Cobb asked, angrily. He heard a muffled laugh from Fischer.

"Very simple. I pulled your number off Arthur's cellphone." Cobb cursed himself for his own stupidity. He was allowing himself to be baited by the younger man, pulled into revealing things. Trent turned, and raised his eyebrows. Cobb swallowed.

"Listen, Fischer-" suddenly, Trent took one hand off the wheel, and took the phone from Cobb. Before the Extractor could even protest, he held it to his ear, and chuckled.

"Hi, is that Robert? Hey, Robert, its Trent. Trent Mantle." He paused, letting the other man mumble before speaking again. "Who am I? I'm the Point Man for Dom Cobb. So, I think you can conclude that there is no place for Arthur in our team. We've got to let him go, Robert, I'm sorry."

Cobb looked at the Point, his jaw dropping slightly. Trent gestured for him to be quiet as he continued.

"Where is he? How would I know? Hopefully he's in Hawaii, having a pina colada on a beach with a couple of young lovelies. Maybe getting some colour back into his cheeks. Yes, we let him go. I'm sorry, Robert. Bye."

Cobb looked at the other Point, his jaw dropping at the other man's sheer audacity. Eames was grinning.

"Nice one," the Forger said, appreciatively. "Nice one."

"You wanted to buy some time, didn't you?" Trent said, softly. Cobb nodded, looking at the floor. "If Fischer thinks you have another Point, he's not going to harrass you. He'll accept - for the time being - that Arthur';s not with you."

Cobb rubbed his forehead. "If you say so."

"Please Dom. Trust me."

Cobb took a glance over his shoulder at the slumbering figure in the back. "I do."

Trent accelerated, and didn't glance back.

Ariadne got up. She knew what she had to do. Going into the kitchen, she found it. Lying there on the table. A tiny smile curved her lips. Careless.

Folding it carefully, she put it in her pocket. All she had to do now was wait.

Trent pulled to a stop, and turned to face first Cobb, and then Eames. "We're here."

Cobb nodded. "OK." He looked at Eames. "I'll go and get some help."

He left, slamming the car door. Trent looked at his hands, then turned to look back at the Forger. "He hates doing this."

"He does." Eames said, his tone carefully neutral. "But, we've got no choice." He bit his lip, looking at the limp figure of the Point Man, slumped next to him. "We just don't."

Suddenly, there was a rattle of wheels. Both men looked up. Two orderlies were wheeling over a large, flat trolley. Trent swallowed and got out, as did Eames. Carefully, as though they were handling a priceless artefact, the two men gently laid Arthur on the trolley. Nodding at each other, they began to wheel him away. Trent and Eames followed, both careful not to overtake the other men.

"Yes. Yes, I know. Find him. I don't care how. Just do it!"

"Mr Eames? Mr Cobb? Mr Mantel?"

The three looked up. They were sitting in the waiting room of the clinic, one painted in warm desert tones, decorated with potted plants. Eames had investigated the pile of limp looking magazines sitting on a coffee table, Trent was content to close his eyes. Cobb couldn't relax.

Trent looked up first. "Go on, you two," he said, waving them on. "I'll wait."

Cobb swallowed, and followed Eames. Both men sat, waiting in front of the man seated in front of them. He had a kind face, and an earnest look. His desk nameplate stated Dr. James Atwood.

"OK," Atwood began. "I'm going to be completely honest. Arthur is not in good shape. He's physically malnourished, and is going to need care for an at least a month, if not longer."

Cobb nodded. "OK."

"During this time, I'm going to request that you do visit," Atwood said, almost nervously. "He'll need to maintain contact with his friends, people he's close to."

Cobb exhaled. "Thank you."

"So, all I need is your agreement-"

Cobb pulled out his pen, and signed. Done. Standing up, he shook hands with Atwood.

"Thank you," he said, with genuine feeling.

"No problem." Atwood smiled. "We will take care of him."

Arthur blinked. He was lying in a room he didn't recognise. He looked down - his suit had gone, replaced by a white tunic, and white drawstring pants. His eyes widened.

Hospital clothes.

He started to get up, then realised he was restrained. "Shit!"

"Hey, hey!" two nurses rushed in, a woman and a man. "Hey, its allright, you're ok. Let us help you." The male nurse began to unbukckle the restraints, and the female nurse smiled, sympathetically. "Can I get you anything?"

Arthur looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He shivered - bad memories were starting to come to the surface of his mind. Other nurses.

Jeering...laughing...

His face being viciously shoved in a bowl of chocolate mousse...

His shirt being ripped off, while they pinched him in the ribs...

He shook his head, and suddenly, felt a need to reach out, for help.

"Can I have something to drink, please?" she looked at him, and nodded.

"Of course." She swallowed. "We don't have diet drinks. Its all full calorie. What would you like?"

Arthur thought. "Coke, please."

"I'll be back in a minute." She left, while the male nurse finished untying him. Arthur turned to the male nurse. "Do you..."

"Do I what?" he asked, smiling. His name tag simply read "Chris."

"You don't - humiliate your patients do you?" he asked quickly. The nurse frowned.

"No," he said quietly. "We're help to help you get better. Bulimia is an ugly, cruel disease - you need help, not humiliation."

The other nurse came in. "Here." She handed him the glass and a napkin.

Arthur smiled. "Thank you."

The two nurses left. He felt reassured, but worries still came to the surface.

I'll get out, he promised himself. His mind wandered again. Fischer. What if he came for him?

Arthur curled up on the bed, and clutched at the pillow. Suddenly, he felt weak, tired, and small. He was conscious that memories were threatening to overwhelm him, but he couldn't pin down where they were coming from. He laid down, and closed his eyes.

"I need you help," he said, tears streaming down his face. "I can't do this. I want to do it all the time. Please help me."

She reached out, and touched his face. "Of course I'll help you."

He leaned down. "Thank you. Thank you so mu-"

His eyes flew open. Ariadne. Where was she? Where were the others? Had they just abandoned him again? Is this what they thought he deserved? Hugging a pillow, he found himself dissolving into tears.

Ariadne waited. Looked at the clock. She'd heard the men come back, and close the door. She'd had dinner with them, and then excused herself.

Trent looked after her. "I think someone needs to talk to her."

Cobb swallowed. "Yes."

"She loves him."

"Yes."

"And-"

"Trent!" Cobb sounded irritated. "Please!"

Trent nodded. "OK."

Ariadne laid on her bed. She heard their conversation, and it washed over her. Tomorrow, she would be going to see Arthur. And she had a specific reason in mind.

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