Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
"Ariadne!" Furious at his parents, Arthur got up, pushing the chair back. As it pushed up the expensive rug, he took no notice. His family, he thought bitterly, were too obsessed with things. Material items that could be easily and simply replaced. He ignored his mother's agonised glance, and hurried down the hallway.
"Ari!" He banged on the door. "Ari, please let me in!"
No response. He bit his lip, frustration mounting. Surely she would see that he was on her side, trying to protect her? He felt a stab of guilt. He should not have brought her here. It was too dangerous - for both of them. She was trying to recover, and conceal, a serious illness - and he had brought her here to a place where there was a preoccupation. He knocked again, trying to modulate his voice.
"Ariadne?" He called to her, softly. "Please. I...-"
She opened the door, and stepped out. He was surprised - she seemed calmer, almost composed. He blinked. "Are you...all right?"
"Of course." She frowned. "I needed the bathroom, Arthur. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just got up and left like that."
"No, its just..." his voice trailed off. The scene at the dinner table made his heart ache. Pangs of guilt were richocheting through him, and suddenly, he didn't know what to say. "Are you-"
"Ready to go back? Of course!" Smiling, she slipped her fingers through his. The warmth of her hand made him smile. Calmly, they began to head back to the dining room.
As they entered, he noticed his parents were sitting, as though frozen. Arthur sat down, and swallowed. His mother spoke.
"Arthur...Ariadne..." the words sounded forced, difficult. "Can we please try and have a pleasant evening?"
"Of course!" Ariadne said, a little too brightly. Arthur looked at her, frowning. There was something in her voice that struck him as false. She picked up her spoon, and took a sip.
Arthur followed, and, he noticed, the table lapsed into silence. This continued for the almost the rest of the meal. He complimented his mother on her cooking, but his father did not say a word. As Ariadne ate, and thanked his mother, he realised he was anxious. Watching her carefully. She was eating quickly.
Too quickly.
"That was delicious," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Would you excuse me?"
Before anyone could speak, she had slipped off her chair, and hurried to the door. Shocked, and frozen, Arthur watched her.
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