Inception Big Bang: Arthur/Cobb; Part 1
in a phrase to cut these lips
part one
Gunshots.
That’s all he heard when he woke up, and the only thing he smelled was gunpowder. He swallowed in fear, only to taste the tangy flavor of blood on his tongue. Without warning, he started to panic. This is what his training had been preparing him for. This exact situation.
But what use was it if he couldn’t put any of his training into effect in real life? All those fake bullet wounds. All of that psychological pain. None of it could compare to the real thing.
His heart rate increased as he continued to bleed from his mouth and the wound in his stomach. He knew he had to remain calm. He knew it, but actually doing it was another story.
He was about to give up, just scream and scream out of pain and fear. Cry until he just couldn’t anymore. Until he was dead.
“It’s okay,” a voice was saying. A rough voice, yet one that was oddly comforting and also vaguely familiar. He’d tried to place it, but it was no use. “You’re going to be okay,” the voice continued. It was a man’s voice, that much he knew. The man held him from behind and rocked him back and forth, like a baby. The owner of the voice wrapped his arms around him and pressed down on the bullet wound, momentarily stopping the bleeding. “I’ll stay here with you until some help comes.”
“Who are you?” he asked the voice.
“You don’t remember me, Arthur?” the man asked in return. “How disappointing. I was hoping I’d leave more of an impression on you.”
Despite himself and his current predicament, Arthur couldn’t help appreciating the humor in his words. He shook his head. “I’m sorry I just, I don’t remember.”
“I’m the architecture student doing an internship at the hospital. My name is Dominic Cobb.”
Arthur sighed, contented. The mystery was solved. “I remember now. You’re the one they say has a talent for dream-sharing.” Cobb chuckled, but not for too long. The movement caused his hands to come loose from the wound, as more blood began to drip down Arthur’s stomach and soaked through his standard issue uniform. Cobb pressed down harder.
“You’re all right,” Cobb repeated in a whisper, more for his own benefit than for Arthur’s.
“If only I could wake up from this dream, huh?” Arthur asked. He could feel Cobb pulling away slightly, and his chest ached for reasons that had nothing to do with getting shot. “What’s wrong?”
“You wouldn’t want to do that.”
“Why?”
Cobb paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Because you don’t want to leave me.”
Arthur didn’t argue with this statement. He might even agree.
Before much longer, help was on the scene. The medical crew took Arthur out of Cobb’s arms and placed him on a stretcher. He wanted to be appreciative, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that they took him away from Cobb, thanking him for his help and saying they’d take it from there.
As they pulled him away, he heard Cobb say one more time, “You’ll be all right.”
And then Arthur closed his eyes and let blackness overcome him, the final image of Cobb’s blue eyes looking down onto him fading from his memory. Completely unaware that he continued to lose more and more blood until there was no more blood left and his heart stopped.
*
Dom Cobb had always been more of a summer-type person, back in his past life.
He had loved going to the beach. Loved the ocean. Loved watching the waves crashing upon the shore, while Phillipa and James built impossible castles in the sand. It was his release, his own personal catharsis. A place where he could go to forget all about dream-sharing and extraction and anything that didn’t involve Mal and his children.
That was of course before he got stuck in limbo for nearly fifty years, a place so deep in his subconscious that he could never escape the ocean, day after day after day. Now the beach and anything else related to summer was just a painful reminder of his old life, a whisper across his mind that told him how things used to be. Before. Before inception.
But now he was lost. Aimless. Without his work, without his Mal, without the guilt of his past discretions, he had nothing to live for anymore outside of his children. All that he had left were his children and the memories of a half-remembered dream. It was enough for a little while, but then, inevitably, he needed more.
Dom became an architecture professor at the local university, because it was the subject closest to his heart and the one in which he was most knowledgeable. Getting the position had been easy enough; a few references from Miles, a teaching certificate, and a summary of his past work was all it took before they were calling him to offer the job.
His classroom was ordinary, the student body average. There were a few bright students with plenty of potential, but none had quite the same skill that he had possessed at their age. Still, the work was enjoyable enough, and it gave him something to do with his time. He could deal with the fact that he might not find the next Ariadne among his class.
Admittedly, he missed the creativity and intensity of dreams, but didn’t dare to make himself dream again. He felt like a bad imitator, pretending to be normal.
As the school year ended, he decided to leave and quite possibly never return to the university. He needed to revisit those people who were reminders of his past, his former team, and find out what else was out there for him. He was afraid that if he stayed for too long, he would go crazy. Like Mal.
He could only think of one person out there in the world who might be able to help him, tell him what his problem was, and bring him back to reality. Arthur, however, was nowhere to be found. Like he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. He knew Arthur would be able to take care of himself, but that didn’t change the fact that he was constantly worried about the man’s well-being.
As his attempts to get in touch with Arthur continually failed, he thought of one more person to contact. An architect like himself, living on the other side of the world.
*
It had been nearly a year since he’d last spoken with Ariadne. She had helped him more than she could ever know, and more than he could ever thank her for. After the inception job, he gave her the greatest gift he could think of. He let her go.
Ariadne had been going into her last year of university in Paris before Dom had recruited her to be his architect. It was now spring, and by now she would be graduating. The thought filled Dom with a gleaming sense of pride. A pride only matched by that he had for his own daughter by flesh and blood.
He realized he wanted to be there for her.
He knew from past forays into her subconscious that Ariadne had no family left. She was truly alone in this world, even more alone than Dom was. At least Dom had his children, but Ariadne had never known a father.
At the end of the school year Dom returned to Paris for her graduation, after receiving emphatic confirmation from Saito that he’d be able to return to America again with no issue. Even so, he took his children with him this time. Just to be sure.
It had all been worth it, to see the look on Ariadne’s face when she noticed him among the crowd. He didn’t think anyone had ever looked so pleased to see him before, even Mal.
Afterwards, dressed in traditional cap and gown to signify her place among scholars, she came down to greet him. He introduced her to Phillipa and James, and was amazed by the ease in which they related to each other. It may have had something to do with Ariadne offering James some candy from her stash, as well as offering to French braid Phillipa’s “beautiful golden hair.” Despite not understanding their daddy’s relationship to this strange new girl, they took to her rather quickly and fondly.
It made Dom smile and, truthfully, made him sigh in relief. He didn’t often think of himself as a great judge of character, and more often than not he found himself falling back on his children’s opinions to help determine those that he could trust. Those that were worth his time.
Ariadne appeared to be both.
He took Ariadne to lunch while Phillipa and James stayed with Miles for the day. Dom wanted to be able to catch up with her, without imposing the burden of two young, inquisitive minds interrupting them every minute.
It took a while after they’d been seated for Ariadne to speak. First, she took the time to shift around in her chair until she’d, apparently, found a position of comfort. Then she proceeded to place a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear in a calculated motion. He could tell by the way her mouth opened and closed that she wanted to talk; wanted to reach into the recesses of his mind until all of his secrets were laid bare in front of her. She wanted to perform extraction on him. Ah, but at least she had certainly learned from the best.
“Why are you here-” she started, causing Dom to shift in his seat in a sudden rush of indecision. Had he made the right choice in coming here? Imposing himself and his fucked-up issues back onto her psyche once again?
Then she continued in a rush, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you came.” And Dom felt relief, followed by wonder at why exactly he cared so much.
“I needed to see how you were getting along. After inception.”
“You could have asked your father-in-law.”
“I wanted to see for myself,” Dom said, a half truth. Then again, he supposed it did not matter. The line between truth and lies became more blurred every day, reality itself really only possessing a portion of all the possible truths that lay out there in dreamscapes.
All that mattered was that he was there, because he wanted to be, out of his own free will and nothing else. When he thought about it in that way, the reasoning behind it really wasn’t so important. Explaining that to Ariadne would be complicated, though.
“Did you think we have unfinished business?” she asked suddenly, a question that should sound accusatory, but coming from her it sounds genuinely curious. It’s not an attack. It’s not an accusation, but a legitimate question.
He’s not sure how to answer, because she’s right. Of course she’s right. Cobb hadn’t even realized the truth of it until she stated it out loud. Her uncanny ability to get to the bottom of things was insightful at best, intrusive at worst. She was worse than a mind reader. Mind readers cannot read thoughts that someone doesn’t even know they’re thinking.
“I wanted to see you graduate,” he said, ignoring her question with an accurate, yet non-related statement. Not the whole truth, but getting closer. Ariadne leaned in then, as if she could get a better idea of the answer the closer she physically was to Cobb. Like she could see into his mind just by looking at him a little bit more. It made him squirm in his seat, and then he’s annoyed that she could make him squirm. It was always supposed to be the other way around.
“Thank you for being here.” She obviously wanted to say more, but it’s clear to Cobb that she hasn’t quite finished her psychoanalysis of him yet. He’d give her about five minutes before she was giving a rundown of the intricacies behind his every motivation and action. In the meantime, his mind wandered.
He’s wondered what it would be like to touch her. To run his fingers through her hair, and pull. Deflower her, destroy her innocence, and corrupt her in more ways than one. Then he’s so disturbed with himself that he could even think that. That he could imagine doing something so improper, it sent a coil of disgust through his stomach, even while he felt the sudden signs of arousal. He noticed that his palms felt sweaty, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the humidity.
What was wrong with him? Maybe he did need to get laid. It had been a while, after all. The thought of being with anyone after Mal hadn’t even crossed his mind.
God, what would Arthur say about his sick desires? He’d probably look at him with that same calm, reserved expression, but Dom would still be able to sense that underlying look of disdain. Not only did Arthur appear to want Ariadne for himself, but Dom had also always been his, really.
This was more than a little crazy; it was absolutely insane. Ariadne was a girl, for God’s sake. But no, that wasn’t really right either. She was a woman; but he was an old man. Trapped. An old soul returned to the body of a younger man. To want her as anything more than a confidante was not allowed.
Let Ariadne analyze that part of his make-up.
Dom had a feeling she wouldn’t like what she’d find, if she ever figured him out completely. Better to keep his thoughts secret, place it on the backburner of his mind, than to have his darker nature revealed. Dream-sharing with her ever again was out of the question.
“When was the last time you used the PASIV to dream?” Ariadne suddenly asked, as Dom returned to reality. He’d wanted to avoid this topic, yet he knew she would inevitably bring it up at some point. Maybe he’d always known, but tried to deny it. Either way, he wasn’t going to be able to escape without giving an answer.
“I haven’t,” he said. “Not since inception.”
And that’s what they call it, now. Inception. As if it was truly as simple as that. Not at all like it was the job that changed his life and altered every path that he could possibly take, while nearly killing him and his sanity in the process. No, better not to think of it as anything other than simply performing the task of implanting an idea. Being reminded of it quelled any arousal that he’d been starting to feel, at least in the physical sense. But mentally his mind felt instant stimulation from just thinking about it.
She looked not quite shocked by his answer. As if she was surprised, but not totally un-expecting it. “There’s something else,” she said. “Something else about why you’re here that you’re not telling me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you never dream anymore?”
“Why do you think that?” he asked, genuinely curious and not quite sure if he was following.
“You’re lost. You can’t dream anymore and you won’t force yourself to dream, or you won’t allow it. That must mean either reality is truly enough for you, or there’s something else in there that you’re hiding from,” she said, pointing to her own head for clarification. “You need my help.”
Cobb smirked. Oh yes, she was good, perhaps too good. But of course, wasn’t that the very reason why he needed her?
“I think you’re right,” he admitted.
“You think? You don’t know?”
“The jury is still out.”
“Ah.” She smiled, the first real genuine smile he’d seen from her in a long time. Of course, he hadn’t seen her in a long time. It was nice, he decided, to see her looking on in amusement instead of worry or concern. He had known her little more than a year, but he’d already ascertained that she didn’t express her carefree nature very often. Only when she was working on architecture, really. She could be serious about it, but she also liked to have fun when she was building and creating things.
“What do you dream about?” he asked her, because it seemed like a logical progression and because he wanted to change the focus back to her.
“Oh,” she started, without a bit of hesitation, “everything. Cornfields, school, buildings, exotic places. Lots of deserts and sand and hot sun. I don’t ever want to go back to that snow blizzard.” She visibly shivered, pulled her light jacket closer and nonchalantly, probably unconsciously, tightened her scarf. The cold dream with the hospital must have really affected her, if just thinking about it caused her to have a psychosomatic reaction. But who was Cobb to say; out of the two of them he wasn’t the one who was a psychoanalyst.
“It was your design.”
“I know, but that was different. I’m not trying to hide from stalking homicidal projections in my dreams anymore.”
“Hmm,” he paused. “Let me order you some tea. You look like you could use it.”
Ariadne laughed, an unfamiliar sound but not wholly unpleasant. “Wait a minute. Is this you talking to me in my dream again? I don’t remember you ever acting so nice in reality.”
It hurt because he knew it was true. He wasn’t nice. Fierce and loyal and passionate and loving, but never nice. Arthur could attest to that. The whole crew could, really, but especially Arthur. He’d hoped it would be different with Ariadne, yet somehow he had failed.
“Well now I am. Nice, that is. Do you want some tea or not?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to.
She smiled while shaking her head amusedly. “Tea would be lovely.”
*
It was incredible to watch the way Ariadne interacted with Cobb’s children with such ease.
They’d just come through the front door of Miles’ house when Phillipa and James came running to greet them, both talking at once to Ariadne in excitement about some program they had seen on TV. Dom stood back and watched as they each grabbed one of Ariadne’s hands and pulled her towards the television.
It was hard to believe that Ariadne could be an only child. She interacted with his kids just as well as if they were her own siblings. Nothing was forced. She was natural and genuine. It made Dom appreciate her and what she’d brought to his life even more. It was going to be difficult to leave Paris again, but he knew he couldn’t stay there. Too many memories.
Ariadne sat on the couch and watched a program with Phillipa and James. Dom looked on until Miles appeared, and started talking his ear off. He didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to hear about his responsibilities and issues and things that he needed to fix. Before long, Dom started to tune him out.
“Dom, are you listening?”
“Sorry, no,” he said, not feeling very sorry at all.
Miles sighed, a long suffering sound of British superiority. Because of course Miles knew best, and Cobb didn’t know anything at all. How could he properly explain to Miles that, technically, he had nearly twice the mental age that Miles did? It didn’t really matter; in-laws were still in-laws.
“I said, I got a call for you earlier from a Mr. Saito. Said he needed you to come to Japan at once, and that he would provide you with a private jet as early as this evening to fly you out there, if that’s what you required. Dom, what kind of people have you been getting yourself involved with? Sounds like a gang leader to me.”
Cobb flinched at the first mention of Saito’s name. He noticed that Ariadne’s ears had perked up as well, and she was now watching them both with barely concealed interest. He tried to ignore her looking on with prying eyes while he thought of an appropriate excuse to explain away his connection to Saito.
“He’s just a former client, is all. Did he leave his number?”
Miles nodded. “I wrote it down next to the phone.” As Cobb started to walk in that direction, Miles grabbed him by the arm. “Dom, if you were ever getting into something you couldn’t handle, you’d tell me right?”
He doesn’t know how to answer truthfully, so he doesn’t.
“Dom!”
He picked up the phone and started dialing the number before Miles could get another word in. He heard Saito’s distinctive accent on the other end just as he heard Miles saying, “You better not be doing another extraction.”
“I need you for a job,” Saito said.
“I’m retired from the extraction business,” Cobb replied, giving Miles a pointed look as he did so. He was just calling Saito to satisfy his curiosity, really. And to pleasantly decline as best he could, of course.
“No, no, no. It’s not like that,” Saito emphasized. “I thought you might be especially interested, as this is a unique case.”
Cobb waived Miles away, who made an affronted noise before turning on his heal and walking in the other direction. “Does it involve dream-sharing?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
“Cobb.”
“Saito, I haven’t used dream-sharing in almost a year. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t… I don’t know what would happen if I did.”
Ariadne was standing up now, as his kids continued to be entranced by their show. He wanted to keep her out of this, but she wasn’t following according to plan. She stepped closer, and he had to restrain himself from pushing her back.
“Cobb, what’s going on?” she asked. He ignored her, shaking his head.
“Mr. Cobb. This job is more of a… psychological study. It does not require extraction and there is nothing illegal about it. It’s a very personal case, for me. I would greatly appreciate your assistance. You will be given $15,000 for your time. It should only take a week.”
It sounded convincing. Saito was too smooth for his own good.
“I’m really not interested.”
“Look, you could even bring your children along with you, I don’t mind. And it’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”
Cobb paused, seriously considering it for the first time. “Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”
“Because it is unique. Something that hasn’t been done before. Besides, I know you must get bored.”
“I’m not,” he said, but knew it was a lie as soon as the words had left his mouth. Saito laughed, a deep and rich sound that still sent a chill down Cobb’s spine, despite knowing that Saito was definitely on his side. Rescuing someone from limbo kind of made them your friend for life; well, at least, in theory it did.
“Don’t try lying to me, Mr. Cobb. You have not dreamed in a year, you have no career, you have no partner. You have to be bored.”
“I have a job,” he said, but Saito just scoffed at that. “And how would you know I’m not with anybody right now?” He saw Ariadne raise her eyebrow at that, but he acted like he didn’t notice. He could only imagine what it was like getting only half of this conversation. And with Ariadne’s endless curiosity, there was no way she would just leave him to a private phone call.
“I have my ways,” Saito said.
“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
“Only to make sure you are okay,” Saito assured. “What you did for me, performing inception, that was a big deal. I needed to make sure you were dealing with the aftermath.”
“How kind of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Maybe he was powerful enough to buy an airline, or have personal spies in several countries, but Saito didn’t always quite participate in the act of sarcasm. Saito continued on, “I’m going to need you to assemble another team. Most importantly, you will need an architect.”
“An architect? Well if this job is really as unique as you say, then I don’t know if I’ll be able to find an architect who’s good enough to-”
“I’m going with you,” Ariadne interrupted, loud enough for Saito to hear through the phone.
“Ah, is that the lovely Ariadne I hear?” Saito asked. Cobb covered up the mouthpiece of the phone so he couldn’t listen anymore.
“Why would you do that?” Cobb asked her. He could even feel his brow furrowing. “You’ve just graduated. You can do anything. You’re free.”
“No, I’m bored. Just like you.” She gave him a lopsided smile that was really more like a smirk. He already knew there was no point in arguing with her. Maybe it’d be a good idea, anyway, for her to come along and help watch Phillipa and James.
“Mr. Cobb? Cobb?” Saito was asking repeatedly through the phone.
“Yes, fine,” Dom finally answered. “What time do we leave?” Dom could sense the grin of triumph on Saito’s face. That man was used to getting what he wanted, no doubt about it.
“7:00 sharp,” he said. “How many seats will you need to reserve? Will that point man of yours be coming along?”
Dom was startled by the sudden mention of his point man. His Arthur. “I don’t know…” he drifted off.
“What?”
“I don’t know where Arthur is.”
*
Arthur was in the hospital on the military base for two weeks.
Cobb had been studying there to kill two birds with one stone. The hospital was being remodeled, and as he helped with the architecture plans for the design he could also observe the military’s experiments in dream-sharing. Miles had already taught him a lot, but he wanted to discover it firsthand for himself. The military base provided the perfect place for his little experiments, late at night when the soldiers were fast asleep and nobody cared what he was doing.
The phantom pain of Arthur’s bullet wounds had been pretty severe, but he would survive. The man was tough; Cobb could see that right away. Although he appeared immobile immediately after being shot, Arthur had maintained a sense of calm that he’d never seen on anybody else. Holding him and comforting him had been relatively easy.
He visited him in the hospital every day. There wasn’t really much else to do, really. And while Cobb enjoyed using the PASIV to dream, it wasn’t as exciting without having somebody to share it with. Now he had Arthur, somebody who cared. Somebody who actually listened. Somebody for Cobb to take care of. As far as he was concerned, Arthur was his own. The wounded man didn’t seem to give any protest to this assertion, which reaffirmed Cobb’s affection.
Arthur was delighted every time he came to visit, Cobb could see it in his expression. He wondered what it would be like to be a soldier. To be so completely alone, as Arthur was. Nobody could even come to visit him in the hospital besides Cobb. It seemed so incredibly lonely.
“Did you bring me something today?” Arthur asked one time. It had become their ritual. Cobb came to visit by his bedside and talk about whatever topic came to mind, while providing Arthur with outside food or little trinkets to keep him entertained.
Cobb smiled as he held up his newest present. “I brought you this.” He held out his hand practically under Arthur’s nose, with the red cube lying in the center of his palm.
“A die?”
“Not just a die. A loaded die.” Arthur squinted at the object but didn’t reach out to take it. “Here, you have to hold it,” Cobb insisted, as he reached for Arthur’s hand and put it there. Arthur held it for a few moments, then squeezed it in his hand, testing its weight.
“Where did you get a loaded die?”
“I made it.”
“You made this?” Arthur asked in astonishment. He nodded. Cobb was proud of his creation; it felt so natural and real, it was almost like magic to watch it land on the number six every single time.
“Here, test it out. Roll it and see.”
Arthur tossed the die exactly thirteen times (Cobb kept count), his eyebrows rising higher with each roll that landed on the same number. “That’s incredible,” he finally said. Cobb was grinning from ear to ear. Somehow the idea of impressing Arthur seemed even more difficult than creating the die in the first place.
Years later, when Arthur decided to join Cobb’s extraction team, he didn’t hesitate to use the loaded die as his totem, even though Cobb would also know its exact properties and weight. Cobb always thought that was dangerous, but Arthur was insistent. Arthur kept saying that he trusted him, and Cobb didn’t have the heart to tell Arthur that he shouldn’t.
*
Three hours later, Ariadne played tic-tac-toe with Phillipa on the plane while Dom entertained James with stories of magical lands that he’d actually experienced before in dreams. The domestic scene made Dom happier than he wished to let on. It was like their own little fucked up version of one big happy family. If pressed, he’d say there was only one thing missing. The children didn’t have their mother.
“Daddy?” James asked when Dom must have paused for too long in his storytelling. “Where has Uncle Arthur been?” It was a genuine inquiry, filled with all the curious confusion belonging to any precocious four year old.
“I don’t know, sweetie. He’s just been away. He’s probably working.”
“Everyone’s always working,” James responded with a huff. “It’s annoying.”
Dom couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, yes it is.”
“So why do they do it?”
“Well, to make money to provide for you guys, for one,” Dom said, simultaneously reaching for James’ stomach and tickling him. James giggled, and Dom’s heart swelled with love. He was never a sap in any other part of his life, but James could bring that side out of him at the drop of a hat.
James sat silent for a moment, pondering. “Daddy, where are we going? Are we going home?”
Dom shook his head. “No, we can’t go home yet. We’re flying to Japan. Daddy has some business to take care of there.” Dom saw James’ lower lip beginning to pout, so he had to reassure him that Japan would be cool and he’d like it. James didn’t appear to completely agree, but he didn’t argue.
When they landed, Saito was waiting for them after they de-planed. He held out his hand to Dom, who shook it tentatively. After all this time, there was still an overwhelming presence about Saito that made Dom feel a little bit smaller, a little less important.
“Follow me,” Saito said. “My attendants will take care of your luggage.”
“Where are we going?” Dom asked.
“The hospital. That’s where our mark is staying.”
Dom paused. He hadn’t been told this part earlier. “Is he a doctor?”
“No, he is a patient,” Saito replied, in a tone that suggested that should have been obvious.
This answer worried Dom more than he could explain. “What are we dealing with here, Saito? A little more information would have been quite helpful, you know.”
“Ah, but we are trying to relieve you of your boredom, remember. And what fun would there be in giving you all of the information up front? Better to keep you guessing.”
Dom rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help it. This giving up of control wasn’t in his make-up. “Well we’re here now, so you may as well tell me.”
“The patient is suffering from Alzheimer’s, and we need to help him remember. He spends almost all of his time asleep.” That was all Saito would say. He refused to explain any more until they got to the hospital. It was irritating, but there was nothing Cobb could do about it, so for once he just followed.
When they made it to the hospital (in Saito’s private limousine, of course) Cobb asked Ariadne to stay with his children in the waiting room. She nodded, and he felt instantly grateful. He followed Saito down the hall and was hit with the sudden realization that he was in a hospital, a place loaded with too many bad memories that he’d rather forget. It sent a chill down his spine.
“Are you all right?” Saito asked.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He hadn’t even realized that he’d given off any physical evidence that he was uncomfortable, or that Saito was watching him. Saito nodded, and let the issue drop. He led Dom into a room where a man was lying asleep on a single cot, a man who looked amazingly similar to Saito. He was younger, though, and his face was thinner. But otherwise, it was fairly obvious that the two were related.
“Who is this?” Cobb asked, not wasting any time.
“You can call him Lee.”
“Lee?”
“Yes, just Lee.”
“But who is he, in relation to you?”
“He’s my brother,” he answered simply. Dom could have guessed that himself, but he wanted to know the entirety of their relationship. Were they close? Was he a friend, or an enemy? Just knowing that Lee was Saito’s brother did not confirm that he was a friend. But Saito did not extrapolate, and so Dom knew he was going to have to pry.
He would leave the relation questions for later. For now, he went a different route and focused on the case at hand. “How could he have Alzheimer’s? He must be, at most, twenty-eight?”
“He’s thirty. And I don’t know how he could have the disease; the doctors are unable to tell me. That’s where you come in.”
Cobb shook his head fervently. “I can’t go into his head, who knows what I would find in a subconscious like that?”
Saito smiled sadly, a contradiction that only a man like Saito could pull off so well. “Don’t you see, Mr. Cobb, that’s what makes this job so interesting. Are you trying to tell me you’re not the least bit curious to see what’s going on in his head?”
“Dreams are different. Dreams are random projections of the subconscious. Just seeing what your brother is dreaming will not provide the answer for why his memory is faulty.”
“That’s why I needed the best. I know you’ll figure out a way.”
Cobb sighed in defeat, knowing he was going to give in and hating himself for it. This was proving to be a challenge, and Cobb never backed down from a challenge. If there was a puzzle to solve, he was damn well going to try to solve it.
He couldn’t help thinking that he needed Arthur there, to tell him what to do. Dom always acted like he was in charge, yes, and he always did have the last word. But Arthur’s advice was invaluable to him. He was the one who kept Dom in line, always making sure that he didn’t push the envelope too far. When Arthur was around he made himself a constant presence, always protective, always there to pick up the pieces and put Cobb back together again whenever he broke.
“Cobb, will you do it? Will you help my brother?” Saito interrupted his thoughts. So, it was a friendly operation then. That was a little comforting, at least. Dom didn’t want to be involved in the illegal side of the law ever again.
Cobb nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said with a shrug. Arthur wasn’t there to tell him not to.
*
“Dream-sharing is a very delicate art,” Cobb told Arthur one day, when Arthur had repeatedly insisted that Cobb share his knowledge with him. Cobb had tried to avoid this subject, but in his heart he had known he wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself forever.
“The officers told us that it could prepare us for the real life situations we were bound to face, but getting shot in a dream could never have prepared me for the real thing,” Arthur said.
“The technology is still very new. The problem with the dreams the military creates is that there’s no creativity to them, no design, no structure. How are you supposed to believe what happens in your dreams if they don’t seem realistic enough to compete with reality?” Cobb shook his head, pausing before he continued.
“No, what they need is an architect.”
“An architect? What for?”
“To create a believable enough dreamscape that you believe it just as much as you believe in this reality. Not just any architect, either. They would have to be an expert, someone who could cover each and every detail that might appear in the subject’s dreams.”
“Someone like you?” Arthur asked with a smirk.
“Exactly.”
Arthur laughed. It was the first time Cobb had ever heard him laugh, as far as he could recall. If Cobb had things his way, he’d be hearing that laugh much more often.
“Would you show me? Build a dream for us to share?”
Cobb hesitated, swallowing the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He hadn’t been expecting that.
“It could be dangerous,” Cobb warned.
Arthur just smiled that half-smile of his. “I trust you,” he said. And not only was the lump back in his throat, but Cobb could feel his chest tightening at the words. His body unconsciously telling him that it was time to reveal the truth. As much of the truth as he could, at least.
“You’re actually dreaming right now,” Cobb admitted.
“I’m… what?”
“We’ve been talking for about an hour now in your dream, so the timer should be going off any moment.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think. How did we get here? Can you remember?”
“We-” Arthur stopped, his eyes widening in horror and realization. “No, I can’t.”
“That’s how the dream works. It seems so natural in the dream world that we don’t even notice that something is off.”
“That’s incredible,” Arthur said. “Everything looks so real. I’ve never had a dream like it.” Cobb found himself pleasantly surprised with Arthur’s response. He fully expected Arthur to be freaking out, causing the dream to collapse right about now. But he held it together amazingly well, and everything remained in its place just so. The projection nurses and patients filling Arthur’s hospital didn’t even glance in Cobb’s direction for more than a fleeting moment.
“You have to experience it first hand to fully appreciate the potential of dream-sharing,” Cobb continued.
“Potential? What else would you want to do with it?”
The dreamer Cobb smiled a wolfish grin. “Now see, that’s where the fun part comes in. Have you ever heard of a technique called extraction?”
Arthur shook his head. Cobb continued on.
[ Part Two]