Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Ariadne unlocked the Art room, looking over her shoulder as she did so. Then she gave herself a shake; Arthur was not going to suddenly come downstairs and start making conversation. Not after the way he'd turned and fled the previous evening.

She couldn't believe it. Arthur gave every impression of being clever, confident, and able to deal with things; but he seemed to get worked up or upset at the slightest thing. He was scared of the students, he was scared of being seen with her, he was scared of Eames. Ariadne was beginning to realise - the outwardly confident VP was scared. And because he didn't want to show it, he retreated, which made everyone think he was cold, and aloof.

She frowned. She'd seen a very different side to Arthur in the music room. One that was caught up in the music, and clearly didn't care what people thought. How could she tap into that?

Lost in thought, she entered the Art room.

Arthur switched on his Mac, and checked his email. He groaned as he saw that his inbox, empty the previous night, now had 25 new unopened mails stacked up in it. He began to scan, hoping to delete at least half of them. His eyes widened when he saw one of them was from Tom. With a feeling of unease, he clicked it to "open".

Hi Art,

Bad news. I've got glandular fever. I've been signed off for a month.

A month? Arthur slumped, immediately calculating how many subs he'd need, and how much it would cost. He then began reading again:

A problem. Out of my Twelth Graders, six are taking music as a main credit. The only person I know who can teach this class is you. Would you consider this, and discuss it with Cobb? Please? Best wishes, Tom.

Arthur rubbed his face. Take over a class? Nearly half a semester in? He swallowed. It was a lot to ask, on top of the fact he had to deal with discipline problems, academic attainment, school funding, staffing levels, budgetry constraints -

"Yoo hoo!"

-And Eames. He looked up, glowering, at the Drama Specialist. "Morning," he snapped, turning his face straight back to the computer screen.

"Well," Eames commented. "Sorry I spoke. What's wrong with you?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Are you upset with me after last night?" Eames looked at him, smiling. "I noticed you left in a hurry."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Eames, you encouraged me to go and spend time with Ariadne. Then you come and interrupt-"

"I was just being friendly!" The British man retorted. "Besides, I thought if I turned up, you would get all macho, and try and get me out?"

"Macho?" Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Eames, I don't do mach-"

"No, of course you don't, silly me." The Drama specialist looked at him, and grinned. "If its any consolation, after you left, the conversation dried up completely."

"Really."

"Yes. I don't think Ariadne likes me...not as much she likes you." Suddenly, Eames' phone bleeped. "Sorry, need to go. See you later!"

As he left, Dom entered. "Arthur! So glad you're here!"

Arthur looked at him. "Well, what's wrong?"

"Tom." Dom met his Vice Principal's eyes. "You've seen his email, I presume?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I have. And-"

"And I need you to teach them." Dom looked at him. "I know its a lot to ask, but Arthur, I need a music specialist. And you're the only one at such short notice who can do the job."

Arthur's mouth flew open. "But, Dom, I-"

"I'll give some of your administrative duties to Mal," the Principal said, his voice firm. "She can take on student attainment for the time being, freeing you up to do your planning and preparation."

Arthur swallowed. "OK."

Dom smiled, one of relief. "Thanks Arthur, I can always rely on you!"

And with that, he left, leaving Arthur with a feeling of dread.

Ariadne blinked. She was assisting her Twelth Graders in clearing up after their Fine Art lesson, only to hear a couple of them muttering.

"I can't believe that Sargeant's ill!" She heard one of the boys exclaim. "And who do we have as a replacement? Ogilvie!"

One of the boys snickered. "I doubt he knows what a guitair is!"

"I doubt he even likes music!" The boy, cruelly, began to imitate an uptight, prissy sounding Arthur. "I won't tolerate music in this school! Music is fun, and no-one it allowed to have it!"

Ariadne was shocked. "How dare you!" She snapped. "That's the Vice Principal you're talking about!"

The students looked stunned. "Sorry, Ms Henderson, its just Ogilvie - I mean, Mr Ogilvie - is such an upt-"

"Enough!" She almost snarled. "You're in detention!"

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving them stunned.

Arthur paused. He could feel himself perspiring as he approached the music room.

He stepped inside. Eighteen Twelth Graders turned to face him. He swallowed.

"Good morning," he said, pleasantly.

Silence.

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