Inception does not belong to me.

Arthur swallowed two asprin and washed them down with water. His head ached, and he rubbed it. What a day, he thought tiredly. Sitting in his leather chair, he idly looked at his desk, the paperwork blurring in front of him.

He'd started with an early morning trip to his doctor. Cobb had suggested it, due to the fact that his Vice-Principal was "looking tired."

"I'm ok," Arthur had said, irritably.

"You're stressed," Cobb had said matter-of-factly.

"I am not stressed!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur gave in. His doctor, a nondescript man in his early 40s, had frowned at him.

"Mr Ogilvie, what is your profession again?"

"I'm a high school VP," Arthur had explained.

The man had frowned again.

"Mr Ogilvie. Your blood pressure is far too high. And-" he paused - "whats that grinding noise?"

Arthur realised he was grinding his teeth. Embarrassed, he stopped abruptly, causing him to bite the inside of his cheek. Wincing, he tried to focus on the doctor.

"Your job," the doctor continued, "is stressful. Very stressful. You really need to learn to relax more. Have you thought about getting a hobby? What do you like doing in your spare time?"

Arthur paused. He enjoyed doing the Sunday Times crossword, and loved a good thick novel...

"When was the last time you went to the movies?" The doctor pressed.

"Um..." Arthur paused. Mal and Cobb had tried to persuade him to see The Dark Knight with them..."nearly three years ago?"

The doctor frowned again. "And how about music?"

Arthur bit his lip. He owned an iPod, but could never remember if he'd actually downloaded anything to it. "Er..."

"Friends?"

Arthur winced. Cobb and Mal...definitely. Yusuf...probably. Eames...he blinked.

"Mr Ogilvie." The doctor reached for his prescription pad. "I'm going to make a prescription for you."

"What is it?" Arthur asked, feeling nervous.

"Life!" The doctor boomed. "Go out, meet people, stop making your job the centre of your world! You'll feel less stressed, Mr Ogilvie, I'm sure!"

Gritting his teeth, Arthur got up and left.

The phone rang. Startled, he reached for it, trying not to knock his double shot soy latte over in the process.

"Hello, Arthur?"

"Eames?" Arthur frowned, and checked his watch. It was after eight am. "Where are you?"

"Um, I'm sick."

"Sick?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, sick?"

"Well, I'm coming down with something," said the suspiciously healthy sounding voice on the end of the phone.

Arthur swallowed. "Eames. It is the second week of semester. You cannot tell me you are-"

"Artie!" The voice sounded wounded. "Artie, have I ever lied to you?" A feeble coughing came from the phone. Arthur scowled at the receiver.

"OK, Eames, you're sick." Arthur tried to marshall his thoughts. "Its too late to call in a substitute, so-"

"You can teach my classes," Eames said, silkily. "Please Artie, you'll be great."

"Eames, I'm a music teacher, not a drama teacher!" Arthur bit his lip. He hadn't taught for nearly three years, since he got the post of VP and more admin work had been loaded onto him.

"But...its all about performing, Artie! You'll be fine! Got to go, think I'm going to be sick!" The phone hung up, and Arthur slammed the receiver into the cradle. Cobb walked in, smiling.

"You ok?"

"Eames is sick," Arthur said, sullenly.

"Oh," Cobb raised an eyebrow. "Oh dear." He looked as if he were trying not to laugh. "I'm impressed it took him this long-"

"Cobb, this can't continue!" Arthur burst out. "He's not sick - he's just taking time off because he's hung over and probably picked someone up last night!"

Cobb nodded. "Indeed."

"He shouldn't be here," Arthur glared. "He has no...commitment."

"But he's the best Drama teacher we've ever had."

"He's also lazy, and sloppy, and flirts with everything female," Arthur complained.

Cobb raised an eyebrow. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Ariadne, would it?"

"What?"

"Well..." Cobb swallowed. "Its just she's off sick too." Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "So..." he looked hurriedly at his notes. "I have a meeting with the District. So, would you mind covering Eames' sophomore Drama and Ariadne's Freshman Art class this morning? Thanks, Arthur, I know I can rely on you!"

Cobb hurried out, leaving the Vice Principal to look after him in anger and dismay.

"Ariadne and Eames," he muttered, slamming his coffee cup down on the desk. "You deserve each other!"

Reviews always appreciated. Thank you!