Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Sorry for the hiatus!
"Arthur?" Cobb spoke guardedly, only too mindful of the Point's previous behaviour. He gestured to Trent, and Eames. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the clinic." Arthur's voice was nervous. "I - I need your help, Dom, please."
Cobb swallowed. "Last time you said that-"
Trent shook his head, and without a word, wrestled the cellphone from Cobb. "Hey man. Its Trent. What is it?"
Arthur swallowed, only too aware of the gun in his hand. After pressing his hands to Robert's throat, he'd disorientated the other man enough to send him to the floor. Reaching down, he'd found the gun, tucked discreetly into Fischer's waistband. Pulling it out, he aimed it at Robert's head, then turned, pointing it at Greenwood's.
"Don't move," he snapped, as he reached for the phone. Lifting the receiver, he'd punched in the number, then waited. He refused to admit he was nervous - he needed Cobb to talk to him. But when he'd heard the Extractor's voice, he couldn't keep his concern out of his voice. As soon as he heard Cobb's voice, he'd shuddered inwardly. The Extractor had sounded angry, cold. But, the Point Man thought, with a twinge of regret, he could not really blame him. He felt a surge of relief when he heard Trent's voice. Calm, and precise, as it always was.
"Its Ariadne," Arthur said, trying to keep the mounting fear out of his voice. "They've taken her. Unless I do as they say-" he swallowed, not wanting to meet Fischer's ice cold eyes. "They're threatening to- to-"
Fischer walked over, and snatched the receiver. "We'll kill her," he said, calmly. "So, unless you, and the rest of the team come over and assist, she's dead. And as for Arthur? We're planning a nice, slow ending for him. Do hope you can come. You know the address."
Fischer put the receiver down, and turned to Arthur with a mocking smile. "Arthur, you really-"
He screamed as the bullet exploded in his leg. Arthur lowered the gun, watching the older man slump onto the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh. Greenwood stared, shocked.
"Unless you want one to match," Arthur said, coldly, "you'll take me to where she is. Understand?"
Greenwood nodded, his face paling. "Of course," he said, choking slightly. Blinking, he began to lead the Point Man out of the room.
Ariadne swallowed. She was in what looked like a cell. A clear, white cell. Standing up, she began to walk, hoping the door would open. As she pushed it, she caught her breath.
Sitting at a table, a table covered with a large spread of food, was Arthur. Wearing a suit, he looked composed, and relaxed. Smiling, he gestured with his hand.
"Care to join me?"
"We don't even know if we should do this!"
Trent turned, and raised an eyebrow. Cobb's facial expression was anguished; Eames, he noted, was uncertain. "Do what?" he asked, nonchalantly.
"Go and find them," Cobb said, hurriedly. "What if its a trap? What if Arthur's now planning this with Fischer?"
Trent looked at him. "We know that Fischer wants to use him. And at the moment, he's there. We need to find them. Both of them. Dom, he loves her, and she may be our way to help him. Think about it."
Cobb swallowed. "OK." His tone was heavy, defeated. "We get them before Fischer does anything else. And then - we extract. Everything we incepted. And then we -"
"Put him in for some professional care," Trent finished. "I agree. Its the only way to go." He looked at Dom. "Let's just hope it works."
Ariadne swallowed. "Arthur, what are you planning on doing with this?" she waved her hand in the direction of the food, causing him to shrug.
"Eat it." His lips drew back in an almost wolfish grin. "All of it. And then throw it back up. Thats what bulimics do, Ariadne. Thats what you're saddled with."
She shook her head. "I'm not saddled with you. I love you." Her voice had faltered, almost to a whisper, and she suddenly felt pathetic. She looked at the food - all of it rich, creamy, and clearly in excess of the normal calorific amount - with growing horror.
"Arthur," she whispered. "You don't need this."
"But I do," he whispered. "You think I do, Ari."
She shook her head. "No, I don't."
He leaned back and smirked, reaching for a chunk of gateau. "Then why are you projecting me like this?"
"You're a projection?" She felt her voice diminish with shock. "You're-"
"I'm not real," he whispered. "But how you think of me is." With a growing sense of shock, she watched him slide the gateau into his mouth.
Arthur swallowed as the door was unlocked. He turned to Greenwood, who smiled at him, mockingly.
"Do go in," the psychiatrist almost purred. Frowning, Arthur entered, his eyes widening in shock at what he saw.
Ariadne. Wired to a PASIV, clearly deep in sleep. But he could see from her twitching facial muscles that the dream was tormenting her. Swallowing, he walked over, and grabbed the IV.
"Wouldn't do that." Greenwood's voice held a warning.
"What?" Arthur turned.
"She's under very heavy sedation. If you remove that, you'll kill her. You'll send her into limbo, and when you find her, her mind will be gone. Is that what you want?"
Arthur felt himself shake slightly. "No," he whispered.
"Want to know what she's dreaming of?" Greenwood was smiling.
"What?"
"A projection. Of you." The psychiatrist raised an eyebrow. "You were the last person to see her, share a dream with her. So I suggest you leave them to it."
Arthur shook his head. "No chance." Pulling out an IV, and before the psychiatrist could protest, he plugged it into his arm, feeling himself suddenly plunge into darkness.
Ariadne had to fight to blink back the tears. Arthur had devoured most of the gateau.
"Please, Arthur," she said, her voice choking slightly. "You must be feeling so sick by now!"
The projection shrugged. "I throw it back up, its no problem."
"But it is," an identical voice spoke. "Its a problem to me."
The projection and Ariadne both turned. The projection quirked his lips into a smile.
"Arthur." He gestured towards the food. "Come. Join me."
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