Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Ariadne choked slightly as she sobbed against Arthur's shoulder. He held her close, protectively. To him, she felt thin and feather light under the smock like clothing she was wearing.

"Do you want to tell me what you saw?" he asked, softly. She broke apart from him slightly, and shook her head. "No, its nothing, really."

"Ariadne, I found you under, and you were in tears." His voice was almost stern. "Please - what I said - I-"

"Arthur, it doesn't matter," she said, quickly. "I need to get back to work. So do you."

She began to get up, and started to walk away. Her face was pale. He looked after her, his lips tightening. A plan was hatching in his mind, causing him disgust, and excitement.

Ariadne scowled at her sketch pad. Trying to draft designs for this job was proving problematic - nothing seemed to be working. She swallowed, realising how hungry she was. All she'd eaten that day had been an apple, and some cheese. She blinked, and began to get up.

Suddenly, the door bell to her apartment rang. She put down the sketch pad, and went to it.

As she peered through the peephole, she blinked in surprise. Arthur was standing at the door, looking slightly awkward. She put her hand on the handle, and opened it. "Hi," she said, uncertainly.

"Evening," Arthur responded. "Thought I'd come over, see how you were."

She nodded. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

He looked at her. "May I come in?"

"Oh, of course."

He entered the apartment, and she gestured to the couch. "Have a seat."

He settled himself, thinking calmly of what he'd left in her apartment the previous day. It had been too easy, he surmised, to carefully break in, whilst excusing himself from the warehouse.

"Thank you." He looked at her. "I want to apologise, properly. For what I said the previous night." He swallowed, aware it may be too little, too late. "It was inexcusable."

"Its all right." She sat down next to him, and on impulse, he took her hands in his. "I went into your dreams."

Arthur shrugged. "You were concerned." He studied her face, noting how pale she was. The thought of what he was planning to do made him feel slightly sick, but he felt he had to do it. "But, it worked."

"What did?" she whispered.

"The clinic. They gave me the nutrients I needed, I gained some weight, my mother stopped worrying." He smiled at her. "But, it was hard when it was time to go back to school." He looked at his hands.

She swallowed. "I see."

Arthur tightened his grip round her fingers. "Please, talk to me."

She shook her head. "There's nothing to say." Gently, she disengaged her hands from his. "Coffee?"

He nodded. "Please."

As she walked into the kitchen, he got up, the small phial of sedative feeling uncomfortably prominent in his pocket. He smiled at her as she reached for the coffee cups. "Come on. Let me do this."

"You don't have to-" she protested, but realised he was serious when his hand firmly came down on hers. "No, I mean it. I can do this."

Nodding dumbly, she walked back into the living room. He frowned - she was so passive, so willing to let him take control. He carefully pulled the vial out, and shook a few drops into a cup. Stirring the contents, he picked them up, and walked into the living room.

"Here," he said smiling. She accepted it, gratefully. "Thank you."

Arthur watched her take a sip. As she put the cup down, her expression changed. "Ohhh..."

"Are you all right?" he asked, courteously. She swallowed. "I just feel so-"

He watched as she fell backwards, her head hitting the cushion. Swallowing, he got up, and walked into her bedroom. Reaching underneath the bed, he pulled out the PASIV.

As he carried it back into the living room, he felt a surge of guilt. As he plugged the IV into her arm, he felt himself stiffen. Quickly, he attached himself to the PASIV, and hit the centre button.

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