Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Ariadne blinked, and turned. Arthur was lying next to her, still asleep.

She tentatively reached out, and touched his shoulder. "Arthur?"

To her relief, his eyelids began to flutter, and he started to turn his head. "Arthur?" she repeated, more insistently.

His eyes opened, and seeing her face, began to smile slightly. "Hey."

"Arthur, I cannot believe that-" she shook her head. "I cannot believe that they said that to you!" her voice was trembling slightly with indignation. "How could they-?"

Arthur swallowed. "That's...not the worst of it." He began to tug at the IV. "I decided to pull us both out, so-"

"What do you mean, that's not the worst of it?" Ariadne looked at him, searchingly. "Arthur-"

"Listen, its getting pretty late," he interrupted. "I really think we should..." he blushed slightly - "call it a night."

"But I-"

"Ari, come on. Its nearly eleven. We should go to bed. I'll sleep in the lounge."

She blinked. "Arthur-"

"Come on," he said, gently. He began to move towards his closet. "I'm sure I have a shirt in here you can borrow." He began to flick through the neat line of clothing. "Here, this one."

He handed her a plain white shirt, and she accepted it. "Thank you."

"No need," he said, smiling. "See you tomorrow."

She swallowed, watching as he turned on his heel and began to walk towards the lounge. As she began to stretch out on the bed, she heard his moving around in the apartment.

She began to undress, biting her lip. She felt almost betrayed. Arthur had entered her dream, seen her at her most vulnerable, and then refused to let her go further. She swallowed.

Arthur was closed, she decided. Closed to people, closed even to himself. She began to lie down, pulling the expensive covers around herself. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

Blinking, she felt her eyelids flutter. Squinting through a haze of sleep, she looked at the digital clock by the bedside. 2.30am.

The Architect swallowed, her throat feeling dry. Deciding she needed water, she began to get up, moving quietly across the bedroom floor. As she opened the door, she kept a careful eye on the door of the lounge.

To her surprise, it was open. As she walked through the hall towards the kitchen, she could not resist peeking through, to see if Arthur was awake.

She paused by the door.

To her surprise, he was seemingly asleep. Lying stretched out on the couch, covered by a couple of blankets, his face looked calm, sweet. She began to move forward, tempted to reach out and stroke his hair.

Suddenly, a thought struck her.

No. I can't do that. But he did it to me.

Before she could argue with her conscience, she turned, hurrying towards the main bedroom. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out the PASIV, trying to ignore how it glinted in the shafts of moonlight. As she grabbed the handle, she paused, her heart beginning to pound.

He would never forgive her. But, she reasoned, she needed to know. She'd felt exposed, as Arthur had entered her dreams, dredging up painful memories of teenage years she'd wanted to leave buried. With a small spurt of anger, she began to walk towards the lounge.

Arthur sighed, murmuring slightly in his sleep. She froze, concerned he was wakening, but as he turned and settled back down, she breathed. Calmly, she began to open the device, unwinding the two IVs. As she plugged one into her arm, she paused. Before Arthur could move, she attached the IV to him.

Swallowing, she laid down on the floor, next to the PASIV. Reaching over, she hit the centre button.

She blinked. She was back in Arthur's room, and to her shock, standing in his closet. Through the door, she could see him, sitting on the bed. His head was in his hands.

"Arthur?" she stiffened, realising it was his mother tapping on the door. "Sweetheart, can I come in?"

"OK." His voice was cracked.

His mother entered, frowning sympathetically. "Arthur, please. Don't be-" she paused - "like this. It is for your own good!"

"Own good?" he said, raising his head. Ariadne bit her lip. His face was pale, but his eyes were red-rimmed. "How can sending me to a clinic be for my own good?!"

His mother sat next to him, looping an arm around his shoulders.

"Arthur, it is for your own good. I'm worried about you. This is just so you gain a little weight!"

Ariadne felt as if her heart was being ripped open. Suddenly, her eyes widened. Arthur was looking right at her.

"You..." he said, his voice soft, and stunned. He began to get up. "What are you doing here? Get out! GET OUT!"

Suddenly, she felt herself blinking, her eyes opening. Turning her head, she froze.

Arthur, his face rigid with anger, was staring at her from his position on the couch.

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