D'Autrefois - Chapter 13 - Home away from home
Title: D'Autrefois
Part III: Chapter 13: Home away from home
Author: koushi
Rating: R
Word count: 4670
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Inception and/or its creators.
Under the light streaming in from the kitchen windows, Cobb sifted through the mail from the past few weeks, as if he were a normal person in his normal house, living his normal life. It was, like the first time he returned, surreal.
His hair was still wet from the shower, but it felt good. A reminder that he, at least outwardly, was now presentable to his fellow man, as if he’d come back from temporary leave, slipping comfortably into the identical position he’d always occupied. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t lost a thing... besides a few pounds.
As he flipped through the ads and coupons, one postcard in particular caught his eye:
I’m sorry to hear about the death of your father-in-law and my esteemed colleague, Professor Miles. He was an architectural and creative genius, a blessing to this world, and most of all an upstanding family man.
My condolences,
Dr. Gerald B. Cooper
“What the fuck happened to Miles?” Cobb exclaimed, laying the pile of letters down on the table, as the words repeated themselves in his head trying to make sense of themselves. Eames, now sprawled out on the couch lazily, his arms along the back, was profoundly engrossed in a movie on Pay-Per-View.
“Hm?” he hummed, as if a fly had landed on his shoulder, and he couldn’t be bothered to swat it off.
“You know... Mal’s father?”
“Oh, that old geezer. Yeah, he bit the dust awhile back, but we handled it, don’t worry.”
The fuck..?
“I need the details, Eames,” Cobb enunciated, his already empty reserve of patience now in the red.
Eames sighed, more than a bit miffed, but he reached forward to hit the pause button on the enthralling romantic comedy. “Arthur shot him in the head, made it look like a suicide. The cops bought it, and even if they didn’t, he’s mates with the police chief.”
Cobb’s jaw hung open, flabbergasted, but to be honest he wasn’t altogether displeased with the result. Miles may have had somewhat of a legitimate goal when he began his crusade, Cobb now realized, but the whole ordeal he’d just faced didn’t exactly paint a rosy picture of the old man in Cobb’s mind.
He then set to wander about the house, peeking in all the familiar nooks and crannies, touching objects as if to ensure they wouldn’t disappear before him. Something was strange about his study, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what. Most of the books, which belonged to Mal save a few volumes on architectural design, were untouched, but the lock on his filing cabinet had been tampered with. Wiley old bastard.
He moved on, trotting on sore legs, although rejuvenated somewhat by his cleansing. Within his son’s room, James had left his stuffed bunny-the one made of yellow velveteen with the chewed off ear-on the bed, signifying that he’d probably left the house in a rush. On the other hand, what if he’d simply grown out of the toy in the short time of Cobb’s absence? How much of their critical stages of development had he already missed? What if he had died in prison and weren’t able to be there to watch his children grow up? Instead it’d be Arthur... He clenched his fists in regretful anger, wondering if they even remembered who he was.
Upon reaching the master bedroom, he found a new installment within. Nash was sitting on the bed, gazing at the family photos on the dresser. He was wearing one of Cobb’s old silk bathrobes and it kept slipping off his bony shoulder, too loose for his emaciated frame.
“I can see why you didn’t want to give this life up,” Nash said after some time, not bothering to turn around. He knew I was here the whole time.
“Meh. It was nice while it lasted.”
Nash went on, seemingly offended by Cobb’s earlier rush for his children as he was left, once again, behind in the dust. “Is that what you’ll be saying about us as well? Just a fond memory to hang up on the wall? ‘My Prison Vacation’ would be a charming title-”
“Stop it.” Cobb crossed the room and put himself between Nash and the photographs, blocking his view. “You should be happy right now. Celebrating.”
But the point was well-taken. Since arriving back home, he’d felt himself slipping further and further into his previous mindset, prioritizing what was expected of him. With the change in environment, it was hard to believe that what he’d gone through in the past few weeks was not simply a figment of his imagination, like some dream of epic proportions. It was becoming more and more difficult with each tick of the second hand to sort through and reconcile the wholesome values of his old life with those of the new path he’d ostensibly chosen for himself. Or did it all just lead back towards the same eventual end?
“Right. Happy. Dreading every second because the next could be the moment you turn and ask me who the fuck I am and what I’m doing here,” Nash said despairingly. “In prison, I was everything to you because I was all you had. Outside now, in this infinitely huge world, I am a fleck of dust, clump of dead skin cells. I am nothing to you once again.”
Just then the sound of the garage door opening vibrated through the house. Cobb felt his pulse racing. The kids? “Come on,” he said to Nash as an afterthought, already halfway out the door. Maybe he’s right, as always...
But as he saw Ariadne there in the hallway, clad in a business suit, her hair in a bun, joking with a reddened and most likely tipsy Yusuf, he realized that he was greeting the wrong arrival. My flight is delayed again.
She seemed a little uncomfortable standing there in the house, but Ariadne’s face brightened as she caught Cobb out of the corner of her eye. Eames couldn’t see the change in me, and neither can she… Not enough to leave a lasting mark? “Oh my gosh, Cobb!” She ran forward to give him a hug but refrained right as she extended her arms due to his frightful injuries.
“Are you okay?” she gasped, shocked by his state. If only you’d seen me an hour ago. He could imagine her clutching those pearls dangling around her neck. “I can’t believe they did this to you...”
Cobb cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine, although I may want to see the doctor sometime just to make sure.”
“I could give you a preliminary check-up if necessary,” Yusuf offered, attempting to make himself useful.
“It’s okay,” Cobb declined politely, finally feeling the gravity of their contributions. Even if they weren’t the children I was expecting at the door, they are damn VIPs. People who stuck by my self-absorbed ass when all I’ve done is quadruple their risk, insensitive to their sufferings. People like you make me believe that, somewhere out there, there’s a life worth living after all. Though, of course, it’s not necessarily this one. “But thank you guys, really. You’ve put your lives at risk for me when you didn’t even have to lift a finger to help. I-I can’t express my gratitude-”
“Hey, Cobb isn’t a total ingrate, who would have known?” a voice rang out from behind him. All of a sudden he wasn’t so choked up anymore.
“Who is this? I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Ariadne said, extending a hand to Nash. He came nearer and reluctantly took it in a shake, looking defiantly to Cobb to explain his reason for being there.
“Um, that’s Nash,” Cobb said, unsure of how to address him in front of everyone else. He could feel his ears blushing a fluorescent pink and hoped that his overgrown head of damp hair adequately hid his unease. “He’s... he’s...”
“I’m an architect. Dom and I used to work together,” Nash stated in a monotone, moving to shake Yusuf’s hand as well, but his eyes continued to stare dejectedly at Cobb. I see you’re still the same. Hello, Dominick Cobb, nice to meet you again.
“I see,” Ariadne nodded, sensing that something was up. “Well, Yusuf and I are going to bring in the pizza from the car. It’s a reunion and that means we have to party at least a little bit.”
“I told you so,” Nash sneered as the two snuck out the door.
“Now is not the right time for it,” Cobb replied, trying his best to tease a justification out of his jumble of emotions. “There’s too much going on. Too much left to say.”
“Right because there’ll never be a right time, will there?”
A ringing of the doorbell saved Cobb from having to formulate a response. He sauntered to the front door, unhindered by Nash’s piercing disappointment.
“Hello, Mr. Cobb,” Saito said as the door opened. Again a thinly veiled layer of disappointment swept across his face. Where is Arthur? Where are my children? Fuck... when I see him again I am going to give him a piece of my mind.
But he was glad to again rendezvous with the proud businessman he’d saved from Limbo. One of my few good deeds, he thought sardonically. And even then it was only to protect my own interests.
“Hello, Mr. Saito. I heard from Eames what you had done for me today, and I cannot repay you for the time you’ve sacrificed in coming here,” Cobb said formalistically but sincerely.
Saito laughed. “It was my duty, an ongoing component of my promise. We said we would be young men together, Dom, and I knew I would be filled with regret if I let you down.”
A sense of honor. Another trait he no longer possessed. “I also never got a chance to apologize for all that went wrong during the Fischer job... I’m afraid I wasn’t myself back then.”
Saito waved off the notion with his hand. “No, no. It is I who should apologize for not keeping Cobol in check afterwards: I did not expect them to retaliate in such a way.”
They smiled at each other with knowing expressions, understanding one another in the way only two young men grown old beyond their years could.
“Well, Mr. Cobb, I regret to inform you, but I must leave for an important meeting. Unlike the dreaming profession, the business world never sleeps,” Saito grinned, glancing down at his platinum Rolex watch.
“No problem. I appreciate your help, all of your help. It was more than I ever deserved,” he bowed as Saito waved goodbye with a shake of two fingers, returning to his security detail which was waiting in the limousine parked out front.
Meanwhile Yusuf and Ariadne had laid out the pizza and cans of soda across the sizable dining table, clearing off the mail and old newspapers that Cobb had laid upon it. They watched, struggling to hide their curiosity, as a famished Nash wolfed down a couple of slices in one go.
“Eames, you almost done with that movie?” Ariadne called towards the sofa.
“I’m watching the credits,” he replied in a serious tone.
“Oh, get your ass over here,” Yusuf smirked.
“Well if you put it that way, I believe I’d be obliged to acquiesce,” Eames matched Yusuf’s humored expression as he rose from the couch and nodded at his teammates. He asked, streaming over the selection before him, “Do you happen to have sausage?”
“Perhaps,” Yusuf replied tongue-in-cheek, “if our friend here hasn’t eaten it all.”
Nash quirked an eyebrow as he glanced up from his current slice of pepperoni, sausage, and jalapeno pizza. He wasn’t quite in the mood for cracks and jabs at his expense, but there was something about the jolly Kenyan’s delivery that put him at ease regardless. The dude couldn’t hurt a fly, he adjudged.
Cobb promptly strolled over from the front door area and joined the group around the table, squeezing between Ariadne and Eames, while Yusuf was in the midst of detailing each calculated mini-explosion from the job with untouchable enthusiasm. Despite his mixed feelings of anxiety and the darts Nash continued to shoot in his direction, Cobb couldn’t help but take a dip into the group’s ecstatic joy, an empathetic smile creeping onto his face. It was almost a complete team portrait, save one glaring exception.
“What toppings would you like, Cobb?” Ariadne asked in a worried tone as Yusuf finished his proud tale of badassery, grabbing a plate and napkin for him. “You must be starving as well.”
Starving for something a little different, Ariadne, but thank you. “Sure, I’ll have a piece of the cheese,” he said, as she grabbed a couple for him.
“Just make sure you don’t stuff yourself silly like this one here,” Eames laughed. “Not the worst way to go, but methinks he should be put on suicide watch.”
“Give him a break,” Cobb said, frowning and failing to find the humor in the situation. Nash shot him a perplexed look for defending him so openly.
“So um, what are everyone’s plans in the near future?” Ariadne asked the group, trying to rally them away from mercilessly poking fun of one another.
“Going back to Mombassa,” Yusuf replied with a homesick sigh. “As you can see, I’ve filled my excitement quota for the year.”
“Not without me though,” Eames added, patting his friend on the back. He then turned back to Cobb, undaunted by his stuffy attitude. “You want to come along as well?”
“What? I just got home,” Cobb stared at him suspiciously. “I’m staying here.”
Eames chuckled. “Another man with a death wish. Where do you think will be the first place they look when they’re searching for heads to roll, my dear Cobb? Mr. Cobol does not take kindly to being made a fool of.”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. His insides felt cold as his blood froze icicles all the way from his heart down to the tiniest of capillaries. Another thwarted happy ending.
You’d think you’d have learned to trust yourself when something feels surreal by now, huh, Dom? Mr. Charles’s voice boomed loud and clear in his beaten brain. No such thing as a fucking fairy tale. You of all people should be most familiar with this concept.
“I-I’m going to...”
A faint click as the front door opened. Cobb’s ears perked up. But there was nothing. Where was the pitter-patter of their little feet against the hardwood floor?
Instead a solitary Arthur came within view. He looked just the same as before, hair slicked back, wearing a starched white button-down shirt, grey vest, and matching trousers. Very much alone.
They froze in place, eyes making contact for the shortest of instances, but it was uncertain who broke away first.
You’re just the same. The identical person. But I can’t say I recognize you anymore.
“Hey, Arthur,” Ariadne called, unaware of the bitter tension racking up in the room. “Want some pizza?”
Arthur opened his lips as if to speak when something... someone caught his eye. Nash? He reddened and muttered, “Uh, one second, Ariadne, I have to borrow Eames for a moment.”
She flitted her eyes back and forth between the two rivals. “Okay, sure, I’ll just get a plate for you.”
Eames followed Arthur around the corner where he pulled Eames to the wall by the shoulder and motioned in Nash’s general direction, growling, “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Eames shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Weren’t you the one in charge of getting Cobb out of there? Why did you bring that treasonous scumbag along?”
“Cobb asked me to. You better take up the issue with him if you’re interested in any sort of reasoning,” Eames replied, withdrawing from Arthur’s hold and smoothing out his shirt passive-aggressively. “Or in finding someone who gives a fuck about your drama.”
Eames smiled sweetly at his fuming companion and returned to the table. Arthur followed, clearing his throat and avoiding standing near either Nash or Cobb, leaning against the ledge of the counter, where his food was waiting, with his arms folded across his chest.
As Ariadne steered the subject towards stories of office hijinks at her internship, Arthur and Cobb snuck little glances at each other, neither willing to budge and to broach what was on their minds. Elephants, to be exact. The two gigantic-and in Cobb’s case, competing-elephants in the room: Nash and the children.
Why? they both wanted to ask. Why?
Nash studied the two of them as the atmosphere around them became heavier and heavier, almost to the point of being suffocating. Every additional second like holding your breath underwater, burning in the chest and bursting at the seams.
Finally they broke from the water, gasping for air. “Oh, by the way, Dom, didn’t you have something to show me?” Arthur eyed him pointedly, doing his best to adopt a friendly countenance.
“That’s right,” Cobb played along with a forced grin, more than ready to have it out with Arthur for his underhanded actions. It’s been years since we’ve really spoken, years since I could say I really knew who you were, my friend.
Arthur headed for the farthest corner of the home from the kitchen, the master bedroom, an appropriate location as it had been the unwitting battleground of years of unspoken strife. Cobb trailed him, limping through that hallway of time, the portraits on the wall mocking him with their saccharine smiles.
Once inside, Arthur stood where he had earlier, between Nash and the photographs, his back turned. Cobb closed the door behind him.
Now that there was no one else around, Arthur didn’t hesitate to take the initiative, “So you’re finally... out.”
“Out of prison, yes.” Their words were terse, tones flat.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Not in the strict sense of the word, no.”
“How long’s this been going on?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
Arthur turned his head slightly, and Cobb caught a glimpse of his infamous bitchface. “Because I hate that incompetent backstabbing piece of-”
Cobb was tickled. “Pot, meet Kettle.”
“You never should have hired him in the first place. Even then I had a guess about your history...”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“The fuck it wasn’t,” Arthur retorted, spinning around. “You were... you were blinded by your perverted lust.”
Cobb gave a derisive laugh. “Oh you’re one to talk.”
A heavy pause. “For me, it was never because of lust,” he swallowed. “It was because you couldn’t cherish what you had.”
“If I’m so wrong, then why’d you even save me? Wouldn’t it have been easier on you to be rid of me?”
“Is that what you would have done, if you were in my place?”
Cobb shrugged. “I don’t know, but if you’re going to take everything away from me anyway...”
“Contrary to what you think, I’m not your enemy. I’m just trying to do what’s right.”
“‘Trying’ being the operative word.” Snicker.
“Just so you know, I am setting things straight. I told the kids who their real father was.”
Nix the snicker. Cobb stepped forward, visibly irate. “What the fuck? You really are out for blood.”
“No, Dom, trust me. It’s all for their sake. The kids, they need stability. They can’t be trusted with you. I won’t let them grow up in such an environment.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“That you’re an unfit parent, and even if you weren’t, they’re already used to life without you. Without faint glimmers of hope spawned by phone calls from some stranger named ‘Daddy’ on eternal business trips, meaningless token presents from some faceless father figure every birthday or Christmas. Yet who is he but a phantom? If you loved them, actually cared about them, you’d give them up.”
“Fuck no... Are you out of your mind, Arthur? I mean... how can you even ask such a thing?” But doubt crept into his mind, slithering and flicking at the air with its bifurcated tongue. Maybe, in some heartless way, he had a point... the children were only the remaining vestiges of his old life, and he was already dead to them. As dead to them as he was alive to Nash…
“If you decline, as I expect you would, all it would take is a paternity test, Dom. Do you really want to argue with me? Do you want this shit exposed to the public, so everyone can see for themselves what a sham it all was?”
“Extortion, huh? Very high and mighty of you.” He furrowed his brow, a deep crevice down the middle of his forehead.
“I can bend the rules for the sake of my kids.”
“But they’re my kids... I’ve raised them as such. It’s never been any other way. How the hell do you expect me to just give up on them?” Cobb asked, somewhat rhetorically.
He had a choice to make, a choice that he’d been putting off ever since returning home. Don’t think about it, he said, the defense mechanism closing the gates. But he leaped through, letting the iron-wrought bars crush him as he wedged himself in between the jaws.
But there is no middle ground. Not unless he preferred to be sliced in two. Do you accept your new life...?
“You have your loverboy now. Why the fuck do you care? They are my only tie to Mal, and I’m the only one who truly loved her.”
“Fuck you... We both know I loved her as well, Arthur. It was just in a different way.”
...Or do you forget it all over again?
“Because you were too preoccupied with nailing shitty architects, I got it. But nothing changes the fact that these are my children, my flesh and blood.”
“That means nothing.”
“But the fact that you would make a terrible father, doesn’t this carry more weight? Do you honestly think of yourself as a role model? Do you really want to create mini-Doms?”
Cobb fell silent as he always did when asked to defend his actions. Why are you always right?
“Plus they’re American, Cobb. What are they going to do in Europe or Africa or wherever you take them? I know you’re not going to England: Cobol has a stronghold there as well. They’ve gone through enough shit already, they don’t need a culture shock and language change to disorient them as well.”
Why do you always win, Arthur, no matter what the game is? He had nothing more to say. The decision was made.
“It’s what’s best for the kids, Dom. Don’t take it personally.”
Is it even about the kids anymore? Was it ever about the kids? Or were they just the newest war front in the never-ending military campaign? He turned to leave, slipping out from the closing gates, eschewing the courtyard of ennui for the tangled woods of the unknown.
Arthur called after him, offering a pitiful consolation prize, “You were a great friend, Dom. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Yeah, well I wish I could say the same for you.”
A childhood friendship, long suffering in its death throes, was extinguished in those words, like the flame of a candle, snuffed out by a single, painless pinch.
Cobb burst out of the door, finding Nash standing immediately outside eavesdropping. He glared at him, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Really, now?
Nash grinned at him proudly, as if aware of the choice he’d just made. “You’re too selfish to be a good father anyway.”
“And you’re too needy to be a mother, so we’re even,” he responded, whacking Nash in the arm as he shoved past, halfway between serious and playful.
“Getting even, beating Arthur in your jealousy-fueled cold war... what’s the point? There’s no such thing as winning in the game of life,” Nash said, rubbing his already bruised limb. “We all lose in the end.”
“Well, I’m gonna make sure I have a damn good time losing,” Cobb replied as he took the lead. “You know what? Forget making it difficult for myself: Fate already has all those bases covered. I’m going to be who I’m going to be. And if they don’t like it, they can fuck off.”
When he returned to the dining area, the trio remaining at the table had moved on in conversational topic: Yusuf was chatting with Eames about his plans to expand his shop, and Ariadne listened intently, making suggestions here and there based on her knowledge of architecture. Nash and Arthur also slipped back in although the two of them remained at opposite ends of the outskirts.
“So where did you say you were planning to go again?” Yusuf asked Cobb as he settled back in.
This time he was able to finish his sentence. “I’m going to Europe.”
He couldn’t forget what he’d learned in prison. That he was a liar, lied to himself all his life, lied to everyone else by proxy. That he was deluded to the point of encrypting and boxing away unwanted memories to perpetuate some retouched sense of reality. And, now he realized, that he was living a life so that he’d be good enough, so that he’d match up with everyone else’s expectations, flattened even under the thumbs of those closest to him. No wonder I was happier being locked up.
“Oh! Going back to France?” Ariadne asked excitedly.
You can start over anytime. But when was the right time? Would there ever be a right time?
It’s now or never. “No, to Italy actually.” He stepped over to Nash and took him by the hand in front of the astonished faces. “We’re going together.”
It’s pathetic that it took a fucked up sequence of events, including a near-death experience, to make me wake up to this realization. And there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for the years of deception, of regret... But I can start by acting on the one certainty in my mind, written in the book on the highest shelf of my library of dreams.
Nash looked like he was about to pass out.
***
Trust me, you’ll see.
He hated heights. Which is why he took the aisle seat on the plane, covering his eyes with a complimentary sleep mask and gulping loudly every time they experienced turbulence. Cobb squeezed his hand as if to say, “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”
After all, they were no strangers to the concept of dying together in some fiery inferno of a crash.
At the airport in Rome, they silently gathered their bags and stood in front of the bus station, waiting and waiting. Side by side. Neither of them wanted to take the speedier alternative of a train. It was an unspoken understanding.
They looked out of place dropped off in the little town, which hadn’t changed much in the years since his departure. The same baker, now with grayed hair and deeper smile lines, manned the counter. The same grocer knitting alongside her cat as she chatted with a neighbor about local gossip. The roads were made of uneven cobblestones, which caused the taxi to lurch up and down as they headed to the little cottage at the end of the north road.
“Wait here, please,” Cobb said in his piss poor Italian, but the man indicated his comprehension with a curt nod.
He guided Nash along, taking his hand and acting as his lenses to the world as they traversed the rough, gravelly path to the doorstep of the home, where vines patterned the exterior wall like Venetian lace.
“Open your eyes.”
It was as if time had stood still for him in this little corner of the world. Perhaps the pause button did work in reality, in some special instances.
“I’m scared.”
But it doesn’t matter.
“I know.” An anticipatory squeeze. “But you’re not alone.”
Because we’ll be together.
He knocked on the door.
FIN.
D'Autrefois - Master Post
Part III: Chapter 13: Home away from home
Author: koushi
Rating: R
Word count: 4670
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Inception and/or its creators.
Under the light streaming in from the kitchen windows, Cobb sifted through the mail from the past few weeks, as if he were a normal person in his normal house, living his normal life. It was, like the first time he returned, surreal.
His hair was still wet from the shower, but it felt good. A reminder that he, at least outwardly, was now presentable to his fellow man, as if he’d come back from temporary leave, slipping comfortably into the identical position he’d always occupied. Nothing’s changed. I haven’t lost a thing... besides a few pounds.
As he flipped through the ads and coupons, one postcard in particular caught his eye:
I’m sorry to hear about the death of your father-in-law and my esteemed colleague, Professor Miles. He was an architectural and creative genius, a blessing to this world, and most of all an upstanding family man.
My condolences,
Dr. Gerald B. Cooper
“What the fuck happened to Miles?” Cobb exclaimed, laying the pile of letters down on the table, as the words repeated themselves in his head trying to make sense of themselves. Eames, now sprawled out on the couch lazily, his arms along the back, was profoundly engrossed in a movie on Pay-Per-View.
“Hm?” he hummed, as if a fly had landed on his shoulder, and he couldn’t be bothered to swat it off.
“You know... Mal’s father?”
“Oh, that old geezer. Yeah, he bit the dust awhile back, but we handled it, don’t worry.”
The fuck..?
“I need the details, Eames,” Cobb enunciated, his already empty reserve of patience now in the red.
Eames sighed, more than a bit miffed, but he reached forward to hit the pause button on the enthralling romantic comedy. “Arthur shot him in the head, made it look like a suicide. The cops bought it, and even if they didn’t, he’s mates with the police chief.”
Cobb’s jaw hung open, flabbergasted, but to be honest he wasn’t altogether displeased with the result. Miles may have had somewhat of a legitimate goal when he began his crusade, Cobb now realized, but the whole ordeal he’d just faced didn’t exactly paint a rosy picture of the old man in Cobb’s mind.
He then set to wander about the house, peeking in all the familiar nooks and crannies, touching objects as if to ensure they wouldn’t disappear before him. Something was strange about his study, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what. Most of the books, which belonged to Mal save a few volumes on architectural design, were untouched, but the lock on his filing cabinet had been tampered with. Wiley old bastard.
He moved on, trotting on sore legs, although rejuvenated somewhat by his cleansing. Within his son’s room, James had left his stuffed bunny-the one made of yellow velveteen with the chewed off ear-on the bed, signifying that he’d probably left the house in a rush. On the other hand, what if he’d simply grown out of the toy in the short time of Cobb’s absence? How much of their critical stages of development had he already missed? What if he had died in prison and weren’t able to be there to watch his children grow up? Instead it’d be Arthur... He clenched his fists in regretful anger, wondering if they even remembered who he was.
Upon reaching the master bedroom, he found a new installment within. Nash was sitting on the bed, gazing at the family photos on the dresser. He was wearing one of Cobb’s old silk bathrobes and it kept slipping off his bony shoulder, too loose for his emaciated frame.
“I can see why you didn’t want to give this life up,” Nash said after some time, not bothering to turn around. He knew I was here the whole time.
“Meh. It was nice while it lasted.”
Nash went on, seemingly offended by Cobb’s earlier rush for his children as he was left, once again, behind in the dust. “Is that what you’ll be saying about us as well? Just a fond memory to hang up on the wall? ‘My Prison Vacation’ would be a charming title-”
“Stop it.” Cobb crossed the room and put himself between Nash and the photographs, blocking his view. “You should be happy right now. Celebrating.”
But the point was well-taken. Since arriving back home, he’d felt himself slipping further and further into his previous mindset, prioritizing what was expected of him. With the change in environment, it was hard to believe that what he’d gone through in the past few weeks was not simply a figment of his imagination, like some dream of epic proportions. It was becoming more and more difficult with each tick of the second hand to sort through and reconcile the wholesome values of his old life with those of the new path he’d ostensibly chosen for himself. Or did it all just lead back towards the same eventual end?
“Right. Happy. Dreading every second because the next could be the moment you turn and ask me who the fuck I am and what I’m doing here,” Nash said despairingly. “In prison, I was everything to you because I was all you had. Outside now, in this infinitely huge world, I am a fleck of dust, clump of dead skin cells. I am nothing to you once again.”
Just then the sound of the garage door opening vibrated through the house. Cobb felt his pulse racing. The kids? “Come on,” he said to Nash as an afterthought, already halfway out the door. Maybe he’s right, as always...
But as he saw Ariadne there in the hallway, clad in a business suit, her hair in a bun, joking with a reddened and most likely tipsy Yusuf, he realized that he was greeting the wrong arrival. My flight is delayed again.
She seemed a little uncomfortable standing there in the house, but Ariadne’s face brightened as she caught Cobb out of the corner of her eye. Eames couldn’t see the change in me, and neither can she… Not enough to leave a lasting mark? “Oh my gosh, Cobb!” She ran forward to give him a hug but refrained right as she extended her arms due to his frightful injuries.
“Are you okay?” she gasped, shocked by his state. If only you’d seen me an hour ago. He could imagine her clutching those pearls dangling around her neck. “I can’t believe they did this to you...”
Cobb cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine, although I may want to see the doctor sometime just to make sure.”
“I could give you a preliminary check-up if necessary,” Yusuf offered, attempting to make himself useful.
“It’s okay,” Cobb declined politely, finally feeling the gravity of their contributions. Even if they weren’t the children I was expecting at the door, they are damn VIPs. People who stuck by my self-absorbed ass when all I’ve done is quadruple their risk, insensitive to their sufferings. People like you make me believe that, somewhere out there, there’s a life worth living after all. Though, of course, it’s not necessarily this one. “But thank you guys, really. You’ve put your lives at risk for me when you didn’t even have to lift a finger to help. I-I can’t express my gratitude-”
“Hey, Cobb isn’t a total ingrate, who would have known?” a voice rang out from behind him. All of a sudden he wasn’t so choked up anymore.
“Who is this? I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Ariadne said, extending a hand to Nash. He came nearer and reluctantly took it in a shake, looking defiantly to Cobb to explain his reason for being there.
“Um, that’s Nash,” Cobb said, unsure of how to address him in front of everyone else. He could feel his ears blushing a fluorescent pink and hoped that his overgrown head of damp hair adequately hid his unease. “He’s... he’s...”
“I’m an architect. Dom and I used to work together,” Nash stated in a monotone, moving to shake Yusuf’s hand as well, but his eyes continued to stare dejectedly at Cobb. I see you’re still the same. Hello, Dominick Cobb, nice to meet you again.
“I see,” Ariadne nodded, sensing that something was up. “Well, Yusuf and I are going to bring in the pizza from the car. It’s a reunion and that means we have to party at least a little bit.”
“I told you so,” Nash sneered as the two snuck out the door.
“Now is not the right time for it,” Cobb replied, trying his best to tease a justification out of his jumble of emotions. “There’s too much going on. Too much left to say.”
“Right because there’ll never be a right time, will there?”
A ringing of the doorbell saved Cobb from having to formulate a response. He sauntered to the front door, unhindered by Nash’s piercing disappointment.
“Hello, Mr. Cobb,” Saito said as the door opened. Again a thinly veiled layer of disappointment swept across his face. Where is Arthur? Where are my children? Fuck... when I see him again I am going to give him a piece of my mind.
But he was glad to again rendezvous with the proud businessman he’d saved from Limbo. One of my few good deeds, he thought sardonically. And even then it was only to protect my own interests.
“Hello, Mr. Saito. I heard from Eames what you had done for me today, and I cannot repay you for the time you’ve sacrificed in coming here,” Cobb said formalistically but sincerely.
Saito laughed. “It was my duty, an ongoing component of my promise. We said we would be young men together, Dom, and I knew I would be filled with regret if I let you down.”
A sense of honor. Another trait he no longer possessed. “I also never got a chance to apologize for all that went wrong during the Fischer job... I’m afraid I wasn’t myself back then.”
Saito waved off the notion with his hand. “No, no. It is I who should apologize for not keeping Cobol in check afterwards: I did not expect them to retaliate in such a way.”
They smiled at each other with knowing expressions, understanding one another in the way only two young men grown old beyond their years could.
“Well, Mr. Cobb, I regret to inform you, but I must leave for an important meeting. Unlike the dreaming profession, the business world never sleeps,” Saito grinned, glancing down at his platinum Rolex watch.
“No problem. I appreciate your help, all of your help. It was more than I ever deserved,” he bowed as Saito waved goodbye with a shake of two fingers, returning to his security detail which was waiting in the limousine parked out front.
Meanwhile Yusuf and Ariadne had laid out the pizza and cans of soda across the sizable dining table, clearing off the mail and old newspapers that Cobb had laid upon it. They watched, struggling to hide their curiosity, as a famished Nash wolfed down a couple of slices in one go.
“Eames, you almost done with that movie?” Ariadne called towards the sofa.
“I’m watching the credits,” he replied in a serious tone.
“Oh, get your ass over here,” Yusuf smirked.
“Well if you put it that way, I believe I’d be obliged to acquiesce,” Eames matched Yusuf’s humored expression as he rose from the couch and nodded at his teammates. He asked, streaming over the selection before him, “Do you happen to have sausage?”
“Perhaps,” Yusuf replied tongue-in-cheek, “if our friend here hasn’t eaten it all.”
Nash quirked an eyebrow as he glanced up from his current slice of pepperoni, sausage, and jalapeno pizza. He wasn’t quite in the mood for cracks and jabs at his expense, but there was something about the jolly Kenyan’s delivery that put him at ease regardless. The dude couldn’t hurt a fly, he adjudged.
Cobb promptly strolled over from the front door area and joined the group around the table, squeezing between Ariadne and Eames, while Yusuf was in the midst of detailing each calculated mini-explosion from the job with untouchable enthusiasm. Despite his mixed feelings of anxiety and the darts Nash continued to shoot in his direction, Cobb couldn’t help but take a dip into the group’s ecstatic joy, an empathetic smile creeping onto his face. It was almost a complete team portrait, save one glaring exception.
“What toppings would you like, Cobb?” Ariadne asked in a worried tone as Yusuf finished his proud tale of badassery, grabbing a plate and napkin for him. “You must be starving as well.”
Starving for something a little different, Ariadne, but thank you. “Sure, I’ll have a piece of the cheese,” he said, as she grabbed a couple for him.
“Just make sure you don’t stuff yourself silly like this one here,” Eames laughed. “Not the worst way to go, but methinks he should be put on suicide watch.”
“Give him a break,” Cobb said, frowning and failing to find the humor in the situation. Nash shot him a perplexed look for defending him so openly.
“So um, what are everyone’s plans in the near future?” Ariadne asked the group, trying to rally them away from mercilessly poking fun of one another.
“Going back to Mombassa,” Yusuf replied with a homesick sigh. “As you can see, I’ve filled my excitement quota for the year.”
“Not without me though,” Eames added, patting his friend on the back. He then turned back to Cobb, undaunted by his stuffy attitude. “You want to come along as well?”
“What? I just got home,” Cobb stared at him suspiciously. “I’m staying here.”
Eames chuckled. “Another man with a death wish. Where do you think will be the first place they look when they’re searching for heads to roll, my dear Cobb? Mr. Cobol does not take kindly to being made a fool of.”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. His insides felt cold as his blood froze icicles all the way from his heart down to the tiniest of capillaries. Another thwarted happy ending.
You’d think you’d have learned to trust yourself when something feels surreal by now, huh, Dom? Mr. Charles’s voice boomed loud and clear in his beaten brain. No such thing as a fucking fairy tale. You of all people should be most familiar with this concept.
“I-I’m going to...”
A faint click as the front door opened. Cobb’s ears perked up. But there was nothing. Where was the pitter-patter of their little feet against the hardwood floor?
Instead a solitary Arthur came within view. He looked just the same as before, hair slicked back, wearing a starched white button-down shirt, grey vest, and matching trousers. Very much alone.
They froze in place, eyes making contact for the shortest of instances, but it was uncertain who broke away first.
You’re just the same. The identical person. But I can’t say I recognize you anymore.
“Hey, Arthur,” Ariadne called, unaware of the bitter tension racking up in the room. “Want some pizza?”
Arthur opened his lips as if to speak when something... someone caught his eye. Nash? He reddened and muttered, “Uh, one second, Ariadne, I have to borrow Eames for a moment.”
She flitted her eyes back and forth between the two rivals. “Okay, sure, I’ll just get a plate for you.”
Eames followed Arthur around the corner where he pulled Eames to the wall by the shoulder and motioned in Nash’s general direction, growling, “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Eames shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Weren’t you the one in charge of getting Cobb out of there? Why did you bring that treasonous scumbag along?”
“Cobb asked me to. You better take up the issue with him if you’re interested in any sort of reasoning,” Eames replied, withdrawing from Arthur’s hold and smoothing out his shirt passive-aggressively. “Or in finding someone who gives a fuck about your drama.”
Eames smiled sweetly at his fuming companion and returned to the table. Arthur followed, clearing his throat and avoiding standing near either Nash or Cobb, leaning against the ledge of the counter, where his food was waiting, with his arms folded across his chest.
As Ariadne steered the subject towards stories of office hijinks at her internship, Arthur and Cobb snuck little glances at each other, neither willing to budge and to broach what was on their minds. Elephants, to be exact. The two gigantic-and in Cobb’s case, competing-elephants in the room: Nash and the children.
Why? they both wanted to ask. Why?
Nash studied the two of them as the atmosphere around them became heavier and heavier, almost to the point of being suffocating. Every additional second like holding your breath underwater, burning in the chest and bursting at the seams.
Finally they broke from the water, gasping for air. “Oh, by the way, Dom, didn’t you have something to show me?” Arthur eyed him pointedly, doing his best to adopt a friendly countenance.
“That’s right,” Cobb played along with a forced grin, more than ready to have it out with Arthur for his underhanded actions. It’s been years since we’ve really spoken, years since I could say I really knew who you were, my friend.
Arthur headed for the farthest corner of the home from the kitchen, the master bedroom, an appropriate location as it had been the unwitting battleground of years of unspoken strife. Cobb trailed him, limping through that hallway of time, the portraits on the wall mocking him with their saccharine smiles.
Once inside, Arthur stood where he had earlier, between Nash and the photographs, his back turned. Cobb closed the door behind him.
Now that there was no one else around, Arthur didn’t hesitate to take the initiative, “So you’re finally... out.”
“Out of prison, yes.” Their words were terse, tones flat.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Not in the strict sense of the word, no.”
“How long’s this been going on?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
Arthur turned his head slightly, and Cobb caught a glimpse of his infamous bitchface. “Because I hate that incompetent backstabbing piece of-”
Cobb was tickled. “Pot, meet Kettle.”
“You never should have hired him in the first place. Even then I had a guess about your history...”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“The fuck it wasn’t,” Arthur retorted, spinning around. “You were... you were blinded by your perverted lust.”
Cobb gave a derisive laugh. “Oh you’re one to talk.”
A heavy pause. “For me, it was never because of lust,” he swallowed. “It was because you couldn’t cherish what you had.”
“If I’m so wrong, then why’d you even save me? Wouldn’t it have been easier on you to be rid of me?”
“Is that what you would have done, if you were in my place?”
Cobb shrugged. “I don’t know, but if you’re going to take everything away from me anyway...”
“Contrary to what you think, I’m not your enemy. I’m just trying to do what’s right.”
“‘Trying’ being the operative word.” Snicker.
“Just so you know, I am setting things straight. I told the kids who their real father was.”
Nix the snicker. Cobb stepped forward, visibly irate. “What the fuck? You really are out for blood.”
“No, Dom, trust me. It’s all for their sake. The kids, they need stability. They can’t be trusted with you. I won’t let them grow up in such an environment.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“That you’re an unfit parent, and even if you weren’t, they’re already used to life without you. Without faint glimmers of hope spawned by phone calls from some stranger named ‘Daddy’ on eternal business trips, meaningless token presents from some faceless father figure every birthday or Christmas. Yet who is he but a phantom? If you loved them, actually cared about them, you’d give them up.”
“Fuck no... Are you out of your mind, Arthur? I mean... how can you even ask such a thing?” But doubt crept into his mind, slithering and flicking at the air with its bifurcated tongue. Maybe, in some heartless way, he had a point... the children were only the remaining vestiges of his old life, and he was already dead to them. As dead to them as he was alive to Nash…
“If you decline, as I expect you would, all it would take is a paternity test, Dom. Do you really want to argue with me? Do you want this shit exposed to the public, so everyone can see for themselves what a sham it all was?”
“Extortion, huh? Very high and mighty of you.” He furrowed his brow, a deep crevice down the middle of his forehead.
“I can bend the rules for the sake of my kids.”
“But they’re my kids... I’ve raised them as such. It’s never been any other way. How the hell do you expect me to just give up on them?” Cobb asked, somewhat rhetorically.
He had a choice to make, a choice that he’d been putting off ever since returning home. Don’t think about it, he said, the defense mechanism closing the gates. But he leaped through, letting the iron-wrought bars crush him as he wedged himself in between the jaws.
But there is no middle ground. Not unless he preferred to be sliced in two. Do you accept your new life...?
“You have your loverboy now. Why the fuck do you care? They are my only tie to Mal, and I’m the only one who truly loved her.”
“Fuck you... We both know I loved her as well, Arthur. It was just in a different way.”
...Or do you forget it all over again?
“Because you were too preoccupied with nailing shitty architects, I got it. But nothing changes the fact that these are my children, my flesh and blood.”
“That means nothing.”
“But the fact that you would make a terrible father, doesn’t this carry more weight? Do you honestly think of yourself as a role model? Do you really want to create mini-Doms?”
Cobb fell silent as he always did when asked to defend his actions. Why are you always right?
“Plus they’re American, Cobb. What are they going to do in Europe or Africa or wherever you take them? I know you’re not going to England: Cobol has a stronghold there as well. They’ve gone through enough shit already, they don’t need a culture shock and language change to disorient them as well.”
Why do you always win, Arthur, no matter what the game is? He had nothing more to say. The decision was made.
“It’s what’s best for the kids, Dom. Don’t take it personally.”
Is it even about the kids anymore? Was it ever about the kids? Or were they just the newest war front in the never-ending military campaign? He turned to leave, slipping out from the closing gates, eschewing the courtyard of ennui for the tangled woods of the unknown.
Arthur called after him, offering a pitiful consolation prize, “You were a great friend, Dom. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Yeah, well I wish I could say the same for you.”
A childhood friendship, long suffering in its death throes, was extinguished in those words, like the flame of a candle, snuffed out by a single, painless pinch.
Cobb burst out of the door, finding Nash standing immediately outside eavesdropping. He glared at him, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Really, now?
Nash grinned at him proudly, as if aware of the choice he’d just made. “You’re too selfish to be a good father anyway.”
“And you’re too needy to be a mother, so we’re even,” he responded, whacking Nash in the arm as he shoved past, halfway between serious and playful.
“Getting even, beating Arthur in your jealousy-fueled cold war... what’s the point? There’s no such thing as winning in the game of life,” Nash said, rubbing his already bruised limb. “We all lose in the end.”
“Well, I’m gonna make sure I have a damn good time losing,” Cobb replied as he took the lead. “You know what? Forget making it difficult for myself: Fate already has all those bases covered. I’m going to be who I’m going to be. And if they don’t like it, they can fuck off.”
When he returned to the dining area, the trio remaining at the table had moved on in conversational topic: Yusuf was chatting with Eames about his plans to expand his shop, and Ariadne listened intently, making suggestions here and there based on her knowledge of architecture. Nash and Arthur also slipped back in although the two of them remained at opposite ends of the outskirts.
“So where did you say you were planning to go again?” Yusuf asked Cobb as he settled back in.
This time he was able to finish his sentence. “I’m going to Europe.”
He couldn’t forget what he’d learned in prison. That he was a liar, lied to himself all his life, lied to everyone else by proxy. That he was deluded to the point of encrypting and boxing away unwanted memories to perpetuate some retouched sense of reality. And, now he realized, that he was living a life so that he’d be good enough, so that he’d match up with everyone else’s expectations, flattened even under the thumbs of those closest to him. No wonder I was happier being locked up.
“Oh! Going back to France?” Ariadne asked excitedly.
You can start over anytime. But when was the right time? Would there ever be a right time?
It’s now or never. “No, to Italy actually.” He stepped over to Nash and took him by the hand in front of the astonished faces. “We’re going together.”
It’s pathetic that it took a fucked up sequence of events, including a near-death experience, to make me wake up to this realization. And there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for the years of deception, of regret... But I can start by acting on the one certainty in my mind, written in the book on the highest shelf of my library of dreams.
Nash looked like he was about to pass out.
***
Trust me, you’ll see.
He hated heights. Which is why he took the aisle seat on the plane, covering his eyes with a complimentary sleep mask and gulping loudly every time they experienced turbulence. Cobb squeezed his hand as if to say, “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”
After all, they were no strangers to the concept of dying together in some fiery inferno of a crash.
At the airport in Rome, they silently gathered their bags and stood in front of the bus station, waiting and waiting. Side by side. Neither of them wanted to take the speedier alternative of a train. It was an unspoken understanding.
They looked out of place dropped off in the little town, which hadn’t changed much in the years since his departure. The same baker, now with grayed hair and deeper smile lines, manned the counter. The same grocer knitting alongside her cat as she chatted with a neighbor about local gossip. The roads were made of uneven cobblestones, which caused the taxi to lurch up and down as they headed to the little cottage at the end of the north road.
“Wait here, please,” Cobb said in his piss poor Italian, but the man indicated his comprehension with a curt nod.
He guided Nash along, taking his hand and acting as his lenses to the world as they traversed the rough, gravelly path to the doorstep of the home, where vines patterned the exterior wall like Venetian lace.
“Open your eyes.”
It was as if time had stood still for him in this little corner of the world. Perhaps the pause button did work in reality, in some special instances.
“I’m scared.”
But it doesn’t matter.
“I know.” An anticipatory squeeze. “But you’re not alone.”
Because we’ll be together.
He knocked on the door.
FIN.
D'Autrefois - Master Post