Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
Arthur blinked, shocked. "Ariadne, this is me, that's..." his gaze settled on the projection, that was grinning at him, lips pulled back from his teeth like a shark. The projection waved his hand in the direction of the food. "Come on, Arthur. Join me."
Arthur turned to the Architect, and she could see, to her own distress, the pain and shock displayed upon it. "Ari, thats your projection of me, thats how you see me, and I didn't think..." his voice trailed off, unable to fully comprehend what he was actually seeing. "I mean, you see me as my illness, and-"
"What do you mean, sees you as your illness?" the projection interrupted. "Don't you get it? You are your illness, thats the end of it!"
Arthur shook his head. "No," he whispered, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "No, that can't be, its-"
"Oh, Christ, are you going to start crying again?" the projection's tone was jeering, as though seeking to hurt. "Why don't you just get over it! And come join me, I-"
He stopped, abruptly. Arthur had turned, and started to run. Ariadne jumped up. "Arthur!"
"Leave him," the projection said, dispassionately. "He'll come back." It smiled, cruelly. "When he's hungry!"
Ariadne looked at the projection. An idea was forming in her mind. She smiled at it, and taken by surprise, it smiled back.
"You're right," she said, her tone taking on a slightly cold edge. "He'll come back when he's hungry. I mean, thats all he thinks about. Food!"
The projection tilted his head at her and smirked. She found the sight nauseating. It was Arthur - except everything about it was slightly twisted. The gentle smile had an element of malice; the eyes were too dark, and too cold. The way it moved was almost reptilian. She shuddered, but decided to keep talking.
"Yeah, you're right." The projection chuckled. "Food."
"Its so disgusting! How can a grown man behave like that? Stuffing his face one moment and then throwing it up the next?" Ariadne's words were tinged with despair. "I feel as though he's having an affair with something that isn't even human!"
The projection nodded. "You're right." He moved towards her. "He'll never change, I promise you that. He'll always be the same."
She smiled at him. "I know."
"You're wasting your time with him."
She shook her head, smiling. "I know."
"You need to leave him," the projection hissed in her ear, moving so close he practically pinned her to the wall. "Leave him, and leave him to it."
She looked at it. "You think you're right?"
"I know I am."
She shook her head. "No," she said, strength gathering in her voice. "You're my worst projection of Arthur - the part of me that fears he'll never recover. But I know he can, and I will help him."
"Very noble." The projection grabbed her wrists, slowly, painfully. "But what if you're unable to?"
Arthur hurried down the corridor. He couldn't face Ariadne, or the projection. He had to keep going. Turning, he saw an open door, and entered it, hoping to find some refuge.
No-one was in there. He realised it was laid out as a bedroom, and suddenly feeling exhausted, sunk down onto the bed. He heard it creak, and wince.
"You know why it creaked?" he looked up, his eyes widening with horror. Another projection of him was standing in front.
"No, why?" Arthur felt that in order to escape, he had to try and work with his subconscious. This was Ariadne's dream, and he was now filling it.
"Because you're getting so fat now, that everything is suffering under your weight." The projection smirked, cruelly. Arthur looked up at him. "Really?" He shook his head. "So why does Ariadne tell me I'm too thin?"
"Because she doesn't want to hurt your feelings," the projection responded, smoothly. "Because she knows that if she tells you otherwise, you'll start bingeing and purging again."
Arthur looked at the projection. "So you're saying she's lying to me?"
"Arthur," the projection said, their voice growing slightly cold, "this is yourself you're talking to. You accuse her of lying, but are you sure you're not lying to yourself as well?"
Arthur made to get up. "I don't have to listen to this," he said, coldly, and turned to leave, trying to push past the projection as he did so. To his surprise, it grabbed him.
"Hold it, you're not going anywhere."
Cobb swallowed as he, Trent, and Eames entered the clinic. The doors opened with a gentle hiss, and the nurse at the desk looked up as they entered. "May I help you?"
"Yes," Cobb said, his voice staying calm, much to his astonishment. "We'd like to see Dr Greenwood, please."
The nurse frowned. "I'm afraid Dr Greenwood is with a patient."
Trent spoke. "Wouldn't happen to be Arthur Ogilvie, would it? I know that he's a special favourite of the doctor's."
The nurse, who was female and easily in her mid-forties, frowned slightly. "I don't like the insinuation there. Dr Greenwood is-"
"I've heard enough," Cobb muttered. "Come on. Let's go!"
Greenwood leaned over Arthur. "Very deeply asleep." He checked Ariadne. "Perfect."
Ariadne felt herself being marched down the corridors. The projection wouldn't let go of her. "Right, here you are." He pushed her into another room. "Stay here."
"Where's Arthur?" Ariadne demanded.
The projection turned, and smiled. "We'll get him for you."
The three team members ran down the hall, ignoring the shouts of the desk nurse. "Which way?" Trent demanded.
Cobb swallowed. "Second floor. Room G10."
"How do you know?" Eames asked, surprised.
"Its the room they used the last time."
Arthur glared at the projection. "Let me go," he said, coldly. "Now."
"Can't do that," the projection said, "if you want to, you'll have to-"
Arthur raised his arm, and using his elbow, knocked the projection of balance. Pushing him roughly aside, he pulled open the door, and ran out into the hallway.
"Ariadne!" He shouted. "Ariadne!"
Greenwood smiled at Arthur, and pulled the syringe out of his pocket. "Sorry to do this," he muttered, as he leaned over the Point Man's sleeping form, "but its a necessity."
He put the needle against the younger man's skin, and was preparing to it in, when suddenly, he heard a voice.
"Don't do that."
Greenwood pulled the syringe away, and turned. Cobb, along with Eames and Trent, stood behind him. Trent was holding a gun, and aimed it at the psychiatrist. "Walk away."
Greenwood, slightly frozen, nodded. As he looked at Cobb and Eames, he curled his lip. "You have no idea what you're dealing with down there."
"Actually, I think we do," Cobb replied. He looked at Greenwood. "Its called extraction. Extraction of everything we've done. "
Greenwood smiled. "Good luck." Suddenly, he turned, and jammed the syringe needle straight into Arthur's upper arm, pressing it down. The team stood, shocked, as the clear fluid flowed into the Point Man's vein.
"What was that?" Eames asked, confusion and anger showing on his face.
"Just a mild hallucinogenic," Greenwood said, smoothly. "He'll be fine."
Cobb shook his head. "You're sick." Pushing the other man aside, he pulled an IV from the PASIV, plugged it into his arm, and fell into darkness.
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