Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

"Thank you for this," Ariadne said, appreciatively. Arthur nodded. He'd persuaded her into coming home with him that evening, and insisted on cooking for her.

She'd barely eaten, preferring instead to shift the food around her plate. He'd swallowed back angry retorts, instead focusing on his own food. As they'd begun to leave the table, he'd stopped her from trying to clear it.

"No, please," he said, kindly. "You're my guest."

She looked at him. "I only want to help, Arthur-"

"But its fine," he insisted, trying to keep any irritation out of his voice. He looked at the nearly full plate, and shook his head. "Go and sit down."

As she wandered into the lounge, his eye went to the glass of water she'd drunk. After a few minutes, he heard a soft cry, and walking in, noticed she'd fallen asleep, her head gently lolling on her shoulder. Walking over to her, he put her in a comfortable position. Going over to the cupboard, he pulled out the PASIV, and began to open it.

Arthur swallowed as he began to blink. He was sitting in an armchair – an expensive, leather bound one. Opening his eyes fully, he began to stretch, and move himself up. As he began to walk, he realised that he was no longer in a suit, but in a simple pair of jeans and a soft, unstructured t-shirt. He extended his arms, suddenly relishing his freedom.

As he continued to walk, he realised that he was in the hallway of an apartment. Swallowing, he noticed that the décor was subtle and tasteful – not unlike the tones and colours that he favoured. He began to rub his eyes, which were feeling slightly sleep encrusted – and his hand froze in shock.

He was wearing glasses.

He blinked, stunned. Catching sight of himself in a mirror, he realised he looked younger, almost carefree. His face was no longer clean shaven, but coated with a light dusting of stubble.

He smiled at his appearance. Suddenly, he heard voices. Raised voices, coming from the kitchen.

"Stop talking to me!"

"I'm not going to leave you alone! Will you just eat it, and do as I say!"

"I -can't!"

"Oh, this is insane!" Arthur moved closer. He was beginning to recognise the voice, and a painful thudding erupted in his rib cage. "I said, EAT IT!"

Standing in the door way, the Point Man stood, horrified. Dressed in an expensive suit, he watched as himself grabbed the back of Ariadne's head, and began to push her face down towards the plate.

He blinked, as a slow, frightening realisation spread through him.

The plate was completely empty. As was the table. There was no sign of any food. He took a step back.

"You're pathetic," the projection of Arthur said, with an furious scowl that grotesquely twisted his features. "Won't even eat air."

"But you're the one-" she choked out. As she sat up, Arthur watched as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm the one, what?" he snapped.

"But you're the one who thinks I'm too fat," she stuttered, her voice blurred with tears. "You're the one who told me I was too heavy!"

The projection shrugged. "Well, yes. That was after I lay there next to you, and couldn't feel you through the rolls of fat." She slumped at his words, the tears flowing freely.

"I really don't like lying next to a blob," the projection continued, his voice harsh. "Its really not attractive, Ariadne. Do you really think someone like me would want to put up with that?"

Furious, Arthur began to move forward. Until he realised that his route was blocked by a glass panel. He began to beat on it with his fists. "HEY!"

The projection had his hand on the back of her neck. "Do as I say!" it roared. Before it could slam her head on to the plate, Ariadne had managed to turn, pulling herself away from its fingers. Arthur, sickened, began to pound on the glass again.

As he turned, he noticed a hammer lying next to his foot. Picking it up, he swung it at the glass.

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