Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
Arthur wiped his face. Ariadne had insisted on going out to find them something to eat, but also that he stay in the room. She'd reached into the bag, and pulled out a black t-shirt.
"You might want to change," she'd said, almost timidly. Swallowing, he'd accepted it. He'd pulled the soiled white shirt off, and tossed it on the bed. The black t-shirt had slipped on easily, and hung off his thin shoulders.
He rubbed his forehead. "Get a grip," he murmured. Unsure of what to do, he sat on the bed, stretching. Then sat up again. Unable to relax, he began to pace the floor.
Ariadne walked into a chinese take out. She scanned the menu. Yes - lightly stir fried vegetables, boiled rice - healthier options, that Arthur could eat. She exhaled slowly and stood behind the counter. A petite Asian woman smiled at her.
"Yes?"
"Can I have some chicken with cashew nuts, boiled rice, and the vegetable mix please?"
The woman nodded, jotting it down. "Yes. Anything else?"
The Architect shook her head. "No, thats fine."
The woman smiled. "Please, have a seat."
Ariadne sat on one of the vinyl covered chairs. She leaned back, trying to block out memories of the phone call. She felt she couldn't tell Arthur - wouldn't tell him.
"I made this decision," she muttered under her breath, "I have to go through with it." She bit her lip. Could she protect Arthur, help him?
He can't even get take out without breaking down, a voice in her head whispered. He's a mess.
"He's my mess," Ariadne said, a little too loudly. A couple of other customers and the counter assistant looked at her, surprised. Blushing, she looked at the floor.
Cobb walked. He wasn't focusing on going to a destination - he knew he just had to walk. He kept going, pushing against the surging tide.
Arthur. Ariadne. His mind kept on stubbornly returning to them. Where were they? Safe? Happy? Or helpless?
He refused to ponder it. They'd made their decision. "Not my problem," he muttered, tightly.
Arthur closed his eyes. Suddenly, a shrill beep penetrated his thoughts. He opened one eye. His cell phone. Out of habit, he grabbed it. "Yes?"
"Arthur." It was Eames. "Where are you?"
Arthur sat up, and swallowed. "Eames. I don't know."
"You don't know, or you won't tell me?" Eames' voice was soft. "Which one is it?"
"I don't know." Arthur exhaled, slowly. "I'm in a motel. I don't know where."
"Where's Ariadne?"
"She's with me," the Point Man said, a hint of stubborness colouring his voice.
"Arthur-" Eames paused. "I should tell you. Dom is going out of his mind; so am I. We put you in the clinic to keep you safe."
"No, you didn't." Arthur couldn't resist snapping back at the Forger. "You put me in there so you weren't bothered by me. And now you have Trent, you don't need me at all."
"Are you doing this out of spite?"
"What?"
"You heard." Eames allowed his anger to show. "Spite, Arthur. I know you're upset with us - we incepted you. We did it because we were afraid you were going to die. And now you're Fischer's catpaw, and he won't stop. Have you thought about what would happen if he finds you, because-"
"Bye, Eames." Arthur clicked off. Suddenly, the door burst open, and he turned. Ariadne appeared, carrying a paper bag full of boxes of food.
"Hi!" She said, brightly. "I got Chinese...is that ok?"
Arthur nodded. "Of course."
"Great!" Aware she was babbling, she put the bag on the table. "I got us chicken, and vegetables, and rice, and-"
"Its fine, Ariadne," Arthur interrupted. He looked at her. "Its perfectly fine."
She nodded, slightly stung by his abruptness. "OK." Deflated, she moved to the kitchenette part of the room, and opened a cupboard to retrieve two plates, and cutlery.
"Ari." Arthur walked over, and to her surprise, put her arms round his waist. "Ari, I'm sorry."
She swallowed. "Its allright," she said, finding tears beginning to come to her eyes. "Its ok, Arthur, really. Let's eat."
They walked to the table. She opened the boxes, letting the food glisten under the lights. Arthur swallowed. She put a spoon in the first box, and put some rice on a plate, followed by the chicken and vegetables. He followed, and within a couple of minutes, both were sitting at the table, facing each other.
Ariadne kept her eyes on her food. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur scoop up some chicken and rice, and put it in his mouth. He began chewing, and after a couple of seconds, swallowed.
"Is it-"
"Ari, you don't have to monitor me!" There was a harshness to the Point Man's voice that she'd been dreading. "I'm not a child. I can feed myself!"
She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks start to flame red. "Of course, Arthur, I'm sorry."
He threw his fork down, and pushed his chair back. "No, I'm sorry." He put his elbows on the table, cradling his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. Its just, my whole life I've had people picking over and trying to control what I eat, and as a result, I can't control it-"
She let her fork drop to the table with a clatter. Leaning over, she reached for his arm. "Talk to me, Arthur." Her voice was searching, "Talk to me."
He swallowed. Peeling his hands away from his face, he looked at her.
"I was overweight as a kid," he confessed, "and my mother kept putting me on diets. She kept being told I'd grow out of it." His tone was bitter, and Ariadne bit her lip.
"They always wanted me to perform, to be the good kid - and its the same with the team." He looked at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. "You all do. You all want me to be perfect, and I'm tired of living up to all your expectations!"
She looked at him. "Arthur, thats not-"
"What do you mean, thats not true?" he demanded. "Think about it, Ariadne! Which Arthur do you want to be with? The Point Man, always in his three piece suits? Or the one who you'll find on his hands and knees, puking his guts up into the toilet?"
She opened her mouth. "Arthur I-" suddenly, the cell phone cut through the air, with its peircing ringtone. Frowning, Arthur opened it. "Hello?"
"Arthur," came Fischer's smooth, oily voice. "I'm very disappointed in you."
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