Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
Ariadne walked into the staff lounge, and immediately sensed a change in mood. There was a general air of despondency, and, she felt, almost depression. Walking to the vending machine, she punched in a few buttons, and waited for her coffee to be delivered. As the hot liquid splashed into the cup, Eames walked in, looking rumpled, and furious. He stalked across to a table and sat down, heavily. She paused, waited, and then walked over.
"You ok?" she asked, tentatively. He looked up, and raised an eyebrow. "I will be." He exhaled slowly. "I will be, when that -" he paused, trying to consider his words - "when that idiot finally does the decent thing and goes back to doing what he does best. Which is sitting on his arse and spending his father's money."
Ariadne bit her lip. "You had a run in with Robert?"
Eames nodded. "Yep." He swallowed, and rubbed his face. "Came into my drama lesson, and proceeded to act like the philistine we all know he is. Rubbished my teaching of Oleanna. Kids should know about that play!"
"Eames, I would talk to Cobb-"
"What can he do?" the older man said, bitterly. "Nothing! He's completely at the mercy of the Fischers. Fischer senior gives money to the school, and as a result, Fischer can tell Cobb what to do."
"What if Arthur came back?" Ariadne asked, almost guardedly, as though testing Eames' response.
"I never thought I'd say this," Eames sighed, rubbing his forehead, "but if he did, it would be a godsend." He looked at Ariadne. "I may, uh, have made a reference to Arthur and Robert's disagreement. Not the cleverest thing to do."
Ariadne shook her head. "Eames. I've called Arthur. He knows."
"Great," Eames sighed, leaning back. "So now we can look forward to him coming back. If he does, I'll never comment on him being a stick in the mud ever again."
Ariadne shook her head. "Please. Still, I've got to go. Seventh graders!"
Arthur leaned back in his seat, his thoughts whirling. Robert Fischer as Vice Principal? It was a horrendous idea, one straight out of a bad horror movie. He closed his eyes. Maybe, when he re-opened them, he'd be back in his office, and everything else would be back to normal. He opened them.
Nope, no change.
He began to get up. Biting his lip, he headed to the bedroom It was time to get dressed - properly dressed - get back to where he belonged, and start fighting for what was his. He smiled wryly, aware his life was suddenly turning into a bad cliche. He opened the door, and started rummaging, looking for one of his suits.
Ariadne entered the Art room, and smiled at her Seventh graders. The youngest students in the school, they were also the most enthusiastic. She nodded as they settled.
"OK, today we're going to be starting our self-portraits!" The group giggled; most of them tended to draw caricatures when drawing themselves. "Remember, you have to keep your hand steady, and allow yourself not to get distracted-"
She broke off. Fischer walked into the room, holding a clipboard. He nodded at the Art specialist, and without a word, went and sat down at the back. She blinked, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. The older man was gripping a pen, and she had a sinking feeling that he was actively looking for things to criticise. He pulled the top off his pen, and waited patiently for the class to continue.
"OK, so what you need to do," Ariadne began, increasingly conscious of the observer sitting in the back, "is to check you have your pencils, and enough space to draw. Have you all got your photographs of yourselves?"
They all nodded, and she felt relieved. "OK, pin them up on your easels, and you can begin!"
There was a small flurry of activity as the photographs went up, and the pencils started to scratch out lines across the paper. Ariadne began to move around the room, keeping a watchful eye on the students. Suddenly, she heard a slight sniffle, and turned. Frowning, she noticed that one student was sitting, almost in tears. She walked over, biting her lip in consternation.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a low voice.
"I can't draw myself," the girl said, her voice slightly choked. "I'm too ugly and it won't look right!"
Ariadne felt her heart sink. Why, she thought, hadn't she considered this? That not all of the students would be prepared to actually draw themselves, and for some it would be acutely embarrassing? She bit her lip, not entirely sure what to say or do. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fischer shake his head, and felt her self-confidence sink even further. She then noticed his write something down, and her vestiges of self-confidence evaporated. Tight-lipped, Fischer got up, and walked over to her.
"Please come and see me at the end," he said, softly. "I'll be in my office."
She glared at him. It took all her self-control not to snap "Arthur's office" back at hi, but knew if she did there'd be repercussions. Silently, she watched him leave, feeling slightly sick at the prospect of going to his office later that day.
Yusuf yawned as he wandered into the Staff lounge. As he went to his pigeonhole, he noticed a letter sticking out of it. In a creamy white envelope, sealed. He swallowed - those envelopes were generally issued for formal occasions.
He ripped it open, and his eyes widened as he saw the contents:
"Its come to my attention that you have been using chemicals in your classes without clearance from the School board. All experiments in Chemistry are now suspended until you can produce a written report on why you need them.
Sincerely,
R.C. Fischer, Vice-Principal"
Furious, the Head of Chemistry crumpled the letter in his fist. "I'll give him experiments," he muttered, furiously, and began to wander down to the Science labs, already considering what he could do.
Ariadne swallowed as she entered Fischer's office. He was looking at her, completely dispassionately. "Do sit down," he said, his tone cool. She nodded, and did so.
"Now, Ms Henderson," he said, leaning over. "I'm a little concerned about your class, and teaching methods. Do you really think that letting students draw themselves is a good idea? It seems to be a mainspring for encouraging low self-esteem. I really think it was a very unwise decision on your part."
Ariadne blinked, unsure of what to say. Robert smiled again, coldly.
"So, in light of this, I am going to observe you for the next three lessons. And if I don't see an improvement, I am going to recommend that you undergo incompetency proceedings."
Ariadne's eyes widened. "You can't-"
"Yes, I can, I'm the Vice Principal." Robert's eyes flashed. "I'm the Vice Principal, and you-"
"Beg to differ." Ariadne turned around. Arthur was standing in the doorway, his face white, and eyes furious. "As far as I'm aware, I'm still technically Vice Principal."
He walked in, and eyed Robert, whose mouth was falling open. "Now, would you care to repeat that?"
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