Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Arthur hurried down the corridor. He was almost late. Eames had managed to successfully waylay him, and he was now fearful that his Twelth graders were climbing the walls. He practically broke into a run as the music room neared, and arrived, slightly sweaty and out of breath.

To his astonishment, the room was perfectly calm. The students were sitting at their desks, looking expectant, but there was no anger or aggression on their faces. They did however, smile when they say him.

"OK," Arthur said, his breathing slightly rapid. "Today we are going to have to work on your compositions. You know that this makes up 25% of your final credit this year."

"Mr Ogilvie!" One of the boys immediately put his hand up. "Does it have to be like, a classical piece?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, it doesn't."

A sigh of relief echoed around the room. Arthur let it dissipate before he began speaking again. "A composition means an original piece of music. It can be a song, an instrumental - anything. And the genre doesn't matter."

"What instrument?" A female student asked.

Arthur smiled. "Anything. Piano, guitair, anything."

The students nodded. Arthur spoke again. "And of course, there is the performance piece."

"Performance?" one student muttered. Arthur swallowed. "Yes, performance. You have to perform a piece in front of the examiners."

A female student coughed. Arthur turned to her. "What is it, Bethany?"

"Well, I-" she swallowed. "The only thing I could perform would be something popular."

Arthur smiled. "Its music, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Good!" Arthur continued. "So think as well about what you want to perform.

Another student spoke. "Mr Ogilvie, do you play the guitair?"

Arthur swallowed. "I, er-"

"It would help us if you showed us how to perform."

Arthur blushed slightly. "Well, Bethany, I don't think-"

"Mr Ogilvie!" interrupted another student. "You should! We need to know what the examiners are looking for!"

Arthur looked at the students, suddenly feeling locked in by 12 pairs of eager eyes. He swallowed. "OK," he said slowly, "I'll show you."

Turning, he headed for the music cupboard.

Ariadne swallowed. She'd asked if she could observe Arthur, but he'd never been entirely clear about when she could observe him. She felt slightly rattled after her conversation with Eames, and decided she had to try and talk to him.

She checked her watch. She could go and watch Arthur teach, and then try and catch him. Swallowing, she continued to the music room.

"The whole point of performance," Arthur continued, "is confidence. Confidence can make all the difference."

The class nodded. He swallowed.

"But, sometimes its good to shock the audience a little bit. Make them realise that you can't be safe." He picked up the guitair. and slung the strap over his head and shoulders. "For example...you may not recognise this song."

Ariadne hurried down the hallway, and at the doorway of the music room, stopped. She could hear Arthur's voice:

Breathe feel love

Give Free

Know in your soul...

She swallowed, listening intently. She suddenly realised that the class were as taken as she was.

...And your shining

Like the brightest star,

A transmission on the midnight radio...

Ariadne gasped. She had never expected Arthur to be aware of "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." Her gasp was louder than she intended, and he stopped abruptly, turning and noticing her.

"Ariad- Ms Henderson!" He said, suddenly remembering where he was. The students noticed, and suddenly a wave of murmurs broke out. Flushing, the art teacher turned and fled.

"No, wait!" Arthur called, forgetting where he was. As he saw her run down the corridor, he stripped the guitair off, and followed.

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