A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes...
Title: Five Ways Arthur Didn't Meet Cobb, and One Way He Did
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol and language.
Characters, Pairing: pre-Arthur/Cobb, maybe a smidge of Arthur/Eames and a dash of Arthur/Mal.
Summary: They could have met in many different ways. There's only one way they really did.
Notes: There might be some small liberties taken here and there. Sorry. Gift!Fic for plingo_kat , challenge 11 in inception_land.
1. In the Louvre, In Paris
Arthur is just a student, studying Classics; naive and maybe a little bit impulsive. That's how he ended up spending a semester in London, studying British Literature. It's that same reason (and perhaps, also, his private passion for art) that drives him to Paris on one of his three-day weekends.
It's on his second day in the City of Lights that it happens. He is wandering the Louvre, feeling a little foolish. In his excitement to explore the museum, he'd forgotten to pick up a map at the door. Somehow, he finds himself in an empty exhibit; no art and no people. Frustrated, he drops onto a bench in the middle of the room and sighs.
"It's easy to get lost in here, isn't it?" A voice suddenly breaks the silence and Arthur spins around, embarrassed when he notices he's been startled to his feet.
The man standing in front of him has dirty blonde hair and is dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. But his eyes are piercingly blue and for a moment, Arthur stands there, stunned into silence. Then the man cocks his head to the side in a ridiculously endearing manner and asks: "You okay?" and he realizes he has to pull himself together.
"Just frustrated," he answers, "I can't find the painting I'm looking for." Usually, Arthur doesn't like to admit it when he's in need of assistance, but this stranger puts him at ease, for some reason.
"Well, the Mona Lisa's down that--"
"Not the Mona Lisa," he interrupts, "I'm looking for Woman in Blue."
"You a big fan of the color blue?" Arthur nods shyly.
The stranger breaks into a grin and Arthur feels a strange swooping sensation in his stomach. "I just so happen to know where that is; it's one of my favorites," he tells the younger man. "Follow me."
And Arthur does.
"What's your name, anyway? We've been talking, and we never introduced ourselves." The man brushes his hair back, glancing at Arthur as they walk, and for a split-second, he feels mute again.
"A--Arthur. Arthur Callahan," he finally stammers and dear God, he doesn't stammer, what is it about this guy--?
"I'm Dom Cobb," the man supplies with an easy familiarity, "It's nice to meet you, Arthur."
2. At Starbucks, In Chicago
Fresh out of college, Arthur finds himself in Chicago, working two jobs. There aren't many positions available for a Classics major in this economy (exact number: zero), but he rather enjoys his day job at the Museum of Contemporary Art. It's his night job that he hates, though he supposes there are much worse places he could be working than Starbucks. Like McDonald's. At least Starbucks is clean, he thinks.
It's nearly two o'clock when the bell above the door chimes, and Arthur looks up from his copy of A Separate Peace and sees a man shuffling through the doorway.
The man looks incredibly exhausted, but Arthur's first thought is that he's actually kind of beautiful and then he backs up and wonders if maybe he needs some sleep too.
"Give me a coffee with a couple shots of espresso," the man says.
"What size, sir?"
"The biggest one you've got," he glances up at Arthur and the barista notices his eyes are a vibrant shade of blue. Arthur blinks stupidly. "You alright, kid? You look like you need some sleep."
"Oh, I'm fine," Arthur assures him as he busies himself at the espresso machine, "I'm used to the graveyard shift. Sleeping just means weird dreams that don't make any sense."
The man chuckles to himself, fishing out his wallet to pay for the drink. "Dreams aren't supposed to make sense once you wake up. They're your subconscious' way of telling you things you don't like to hear, without making you mad."
Like telling you that the only reason you find yourself attracted to this customer is because you're so socially deprived? "Interesting theory," Arthur says, stamping out that line of thought, "I'll have to remember that one next time I go to sleep." He hands the man his coffee and smiles.
"Thanks for the coffee, Arthur," the customer eyes his name tag and smirks.
"Thanks for the psychology lesson--"
"Dom," the stranger cuts him off, "And any time."
3. In a bar, In Amsterdam
Arthur should have known it was a bad idea to go anywhere with Eames. The Brit clearly didn't have the same idea of a good time that Arthur did. Otherwise he would have never ended up in this loud, crowded club surrounded by sweaty Amsterdam-ians and sticky linoleum.
"I want to leave," he says almost immediately after Eames drags him in, but, of course, the bastard just grins cheekily and tries to pull him out onto the floor for a dance. Arthur quickly disentangles himself from Eames' arms and makes quick work of becoming a wallflower.
An hour later, he's watched Eames gyrate against several girls, a host of men, and two separate couples and his patience is shot. He waits until he catches the Brit's eye, scowls at him, and walks out of the club. He's barely made it twenty feet down the sidewalk when a hand comes down on his shoulder and swings him around.
"What was that about?" demands Eames.
"I just spend the last sixty minutes in that multicolored monstrosity for no reason other than to watch you hang all over other people," Arthur snaps, "Either take me home, or I'm walking."
"Well, then, I guess you're walking, darling," Eames says cooly, "Because I have better things to do than babysit a wet blanket like yourself."
With that, he turns and stomps away, muttering to himself. Arthur watches him go before continuing down the sidewalk. He has no idea where his hotel is from here, so he turns into a bar a few blocks later. It's much quieter than the club was, and fairly upscale, for a bar, so he sits down at the counter.
"Brandy Manhattan," he mutters, still quite sour from his argument with Eames.
"Fancy drink," someone says, and Arthur looks up from his contemplations of the countertop. Two seats down is a blond man, nursing a glass of scotch, "But I guess you look like a fancy person. What's a fancy person like you doing in Amsterdam?"
Great, Arthur thinks, I get away from that bastard Eames to be accosted by a drunk. It's my lucky day. "I'm just here for work," he says as the bartender sets his glass on the table in front of him, "I'm going back to the States on Friday."
Suddenly, the man is right next to him. "Oh, so you're going home soon. That's nice." Arthur rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, but he doesn't move. Apparently, the drunk takes this as invitation to chat. "I can't go home."
"Why not?" Arthur asks halfheartedly. He doesn't necessarily expect an answer, so what comes out of the stranger's mouth next startles him.
"My wife is dead. They think I killed her." The look on his face is so pained that Arthur doesn't even feel the need to ask the obvious question.
"I'm...so sorry," he manages, feeling more than a little stupid.
The other man takes another gulp of scotch and shrugs, " 'Least you didn't ask if I did it or not," he points out. Staggering to his feet, he gives the bartender a little wave. "I'm gonna go home," he slurs, takes a single step, and falls down.
Arthur reacts instinctively, grabbing the man around the waist before he can have a very close chat with the floor. The man looks at him, blue eyes wide with bewilderment and Arthur releases him, letting him sway on the spot.
"I think you need help getting home," he says without thinking, "Do you want to share a cab?"
The man's shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal gesture and Arthur decides to take that as a yes. He pulls the man's arm across his shoulder and allows the complete stranger to lean on him for support. God, am I crazy or something?
"By the way," he says, "I'm Arthur."
" 'M Dom. Thanks for the taxi."
4. During a job, In Zurich
Arthur is the youngest member of the team and he knows some of the others don't trust him, especially the forger, a Brit named Eames. Only Zoe, the extractor, really stands up for him. As the team readies the PASIV device, Arthur catches Zoe's eye and she nods encouragingly. He's determined to make them see that he really is worth their time.
"Now remember, guys, Cobb here is a pro," Zoe reminds them, brushing her plaited black hair over her shoulder, "He's one of the best extractors in the business, so be careful." Arthur glances at the man in the seat next to him, already unconscious. He's got tangled blond hair and a threadbare jacket. He doesn't look like much of a threat. he thinks.
"Here we go," Zoe says, and she punches the button on the PASIV. The last thing Arthur remembers is watching the Swiss landscape fly by outside the window.
Arthur finds himself standing in line at a bank. Since it's his first job, all he's supposed to do is act as a look-out while the others try to steal Cobb's secret.
Of course, that plan is shot to hell when the man in line in front of him turns around. It's Cobb, and he's smirking.
"Hello there, Arthur, is it? I'm Dom."
"Hi," Arthur manages stupidly. Cobb's smile widens, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.
"First job, hmm? They didn't really tell you what you were getting into," the mark leans closer, speaking in a confiding tone, "You're better than them. Sneaking around trying to steal my methods to use on other jobs."
"How did you know about this?" Arthur finally gets his mouth to work again, "Did you have an inside man?"
"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," Cobb says, shaking his head, "Haven't you noticed, a good extractor never reveals his secrets?"
"But--" stammers the point man, "I don't understand."
There's a glint in Cobb's eye when he answers, "Somehow, I think you will soon enough. Oh, and Arthur? It really was nice to meet you." In a swift move, the extractor pulls a gun and shoots him in the head. He doesn't even have enough time to gasp in surprise before he jerks awake.
It's only a few minutes before all the others come to, and he can tell immediately that they've failed. Zoe and the architect, Martin, are glaring at him. Eames, however, is smirking.
"What happened?" demands Zoe.
"Cobb, he knew we were there. He talked to me in the bank. Knew my name," Arthur rushes to explain, "He shot me!"
"How could he have known?" Martin asks, completely disregarding Arthur.
"The way he talked--" Arthur hesitates, "I--I think he might have had an inside man."
The silence that follows is tense, but it lasts only a few moments before Eames laughs loudly, lightening the mood.
"An inside man, huh, darling?" he teases, "Which one of us could it possibly be?" Giving the point man a sly smile, he winks and turns to gather his things. "Well, I don't know about you lot, but I'm getting out of here before he wakes up. Train stops in Zurich in fifteen. Ta." He's gone before Arthur can voice his suspicions to the others. Not that they'd believe me anyway.
As they rest of the team disperses, Arthur slowly picks up his briefcase and heads for the compartment door. He makes sure not to glance back at the sleeping extractor, or to dwell on how interesting their mark had turned out to be.
5. Through a mutual friend, In Rome
When Arthur meets Mallory Cobb for the first time, he thinks he might be in love. She's beautiful, intelligent, and classy. She's also married, which makes the whole point moot, but Arthur can't help wondering what kind of man could possibly deserve her.
Dream sharing is a relatively new technology and the military has jumped enthusiastically onboard, sending their best and brightest to foreign locations to learn all about the process. That's how Arthur finds himself in Rome, under the instruction of Mrs. Cobb (she insists he call her Mal and, eventually, he does).
The first time he wakes up from a shared dream, he knows he's hooked. Judging by the knowing look in Mal's eyes, she knows it too.
"It's incredible, isn't it?" she says with a coy smile.
"Amazing," he is quick to agree.
"It's a shame, though, that the military has control over the program," she speaks slowly, deliberately, as if carefully choosing her words, "There is so much potential in other fields as well."
Arthur pauses, feeling her eyes on him. "It really is unfortunate," he says cautiously, "The technology is worth so much more than that." When he finally dares to look up at her face again, Mal is beaming at him, and he knows he's chosen his words correctly.
The next day, she introduces him to Dom.
"Arthur, this is my husband, Dom," she says, stepping aside for the two men to approach each other.
Immediately, Arthur understands why Mal is married. Her husband is just as beautiful as she is and, Arthur can tell from the brightness in his blue eyes, that he's probably even more intelligent. His stomach gives a funny little jolt as Arthur reaches out to shake the older man's hand.
"Mal's told me all about you," Dom says with a smile, and Arthur feels his pulse quicken. What is the matter with me? He wonders. Over Dom's shoulder, Mal is giving him that knowing look again. What--?
"I hope all good things," he manages. Dom laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
"Excellent things," the older man answers, "I'm very excited to see what you can do Arthur."
"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work with you," Arthur answers, falling back on the formality he's so used to. Dom gives him another delighted grin and Arthur feels a little light-headed.
Leaving the meeting later that afternoon, Arthur is still somewhat at a loss. The only thing he knows for certain is that he's eager to spend more time with Dominick Cobb.
+ 1. In a dream
"Good afternoon, Mr. Callahan, I'm Mr. Charles," says the man standing in front of him. He's a handsome man, with blonde hair, and intelligent blue eyes, "If you'll just follow me, we can get started on the interview."
Arthur stays where he is, feeling a bit disoriented. He's standing in the foyer of a large, glass-walled skyscraper by the looks of it, but he can't remember for the life of him how he got here.
"I'm sorry," he says, "I don't really remember what I'm doing here." The floor trembles slightly, but Arthur doesn't notice, his attention fixed on the other man.
Mr. Charles smiles sympathetically, "Jet lag? I have trouble with it too. We can get you some coffee, if you like. Follow me." He starts down the hallway without even looking to see whether the younger man is following him.
Arthur does. Nonetheless, he still feels very off. Something is not right...
The ground rumbles again, and this time Arthur does notice. There is a moment of silence as all of the other people moving through the hallway stop what they are doing to stare at Mr. Charles.
"Impressive," Mr. Charles murmurs, glancing back at Arthur, "Just down this way, Mr. Callahan." He opens an office door and leads Arthur inside. "Have a seat, Mr. Callahan," the older man says as he digs in a file cabinet behind the desk. "Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Brandy?"
"No thank you, I'm fine," Arthur answers, sitting heavily in a chair in front of the desk. He's still trying to get his bearings, without much success when Mr. Charles finally finds his file and sits down across from him.
"So you were a Classics major, did a stint in the Marines and have worked as a museum curator and security personnel," Mr. Charles reads off, "What makes you think that you'd be a good fit in this position?"
Arthur hesitates. "Honestly, I'm still not sure what I'm doing here, or even what job you're talking about," he admits, "I don't remember anything after landing in Newark last night..."
The floor gives a magnificent lurch and a Jean Baptiste replica slides off the wall and crashes to the floor. Arthur looks around, startled, but Mr. Charles reacts only with a broad grin.
"You really do have an eye for detail," he comments, still wearing that bizarre grin, "So the job is yours, if you want it."
"Just like that?" Arthur says in disbelief.
"Just like that," agrees Mr. Charles, "Of course, before you make your decision, I should probably tell you that my name isn't actually Mr. Charles. It's Dominick Cobb. You can call me Dom if you like."
"You're that extractor!" Arthur says, and all the pieces fall together, "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"
Dom doesn't answer, just smiles. "We're looking for a point man for our team. Are you interested?"
This time, Arthur doesn't hesitate. "Oh yes. I'm very interested."
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol and language.
Characters, Pairing: pre-Arthur/Cobb, maybe a smidge of Arthur/Eames and a dash of Arthur/Mal.
Summary: They could have met in many different ways. There's only one way they really did.
Notes: There might be some small liberties taken here and there. Sorry. Gift!Fic for plingo_kat , challenge 11 in inception_land.
1. In the Louvre, In Paris
Arthur is just a student, studying Classics; naive and maybe a little bit impulsive. That's how he ended up spending a semester in London, studying British Literature. It's that same reason (and perhaps, also, his private passion for art) that drives him to Paris on one of his three-day weekends.
It's on his second day in the City of Lights that it happens. He is wandering the Louvre, feeling a little foolish. In his excitement to explore the museum, he'd forgotten to pick up a map at the door. Somehow, he finds himself in an empty exhibit; no art and no people. Frustrated, he drops onto a bench in the middle of the room and sighs.
"It's easy to get lost in here, isn't it?" A voice suddenly breaks the silence and Arthur spins around, embarrassed when he notices he's been startled to his feet.
The man standing in front of him has dirty blonde hair and is dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. But his eyes are piercingly blue and for a moment, Arthur stands there, stunned into silence. Then the man cocks his head to the side in a ridiculously endearing manner and asks: "You okay?" and he realizes he has to pull himself together.
"Just frustrated," he answers, "I can't find the painting I'm looking for." Usually, Arthur doesn't like to admit it when he's in need of assistance, but this stranger puts him at ease, for some reason.
"Well, the Mona Lisa's down that--"
"Not the Mona Lisa," he interrupts, "I'm looking for Woman in Blue."
"You a big fan of the color blue?" Arthur nods shyly.
The stranger breaks into a grin and Arthur feels a strange swooping sensation in his stomach. "I just so happen to know where that is; it's one of my favorites," he tells the younger man. "Follow me."
And Arthur does.
"What's your name, anyway? We've been talking, and we never introduced ourselves." The man brushes his hair back, glancing at Arthur as they walk, and for a split-second, he feels mute again.
"A--Arthur. Arthur Callahan," he finally stammers and dear God, he doesn't stammer, what is it about this guy--?
"I'm Dom Cobb," the man supplies with an easy familiarity, "It's nice to meet you, Arthur."
2. At Starbucks, In Chicago
Fresh out of college, Arthur finds himself in Chicago, working two jobs. There aren't many positions available for a Classics major in this economy (exact number: zero), but he rather enjoys his day job at the Museum of Contemporary Art. It's his night job that he hates, though he supposes there are much worse places he could be working than Starbucks. Like McDonald's. At least Starbucks is clean, he thinks.
It's nearly two o'clock when the bell above the door chimes, and Arthur looks up from his copy of A Separate Peace and sees a man shuffling through the doorway.
The man looks incredibly exhausted, but Arthur's first thought is that he's actually kind of beautiful and then he backs up and wonders if maybe he needs some sleep too.
"Give me a coffee with a couple shots of espresso," the man says.
"What size, sir?"
"The biggest one you've got," he glances up at Arthur and the barista notices his eyes are a vibrant shade of blue. Arthur blinks stupidly. "You alright, kid? You look like you need some sleep."
"Oh, I'm fine," Arthur assures him as he busies himself at the espresso machine, "I'm used to the graveyard shift. Sleeping just means weird dreams that don't make any sense."
The man chuckles to himself, fishing out his wallet to pay for the drink. "Dreams aren't supposed to make sense once you wake up. They're your subconscious' way of telling you things you don't like to hear, without making you mad."
Like telling you that the only reason you find yourself attracted to this customer is because you're so socially deprived? "Interesting theory," Arthur says, stamping out that line of thought, "I'll have to remember that one next time I go to sleep." He hands the man his coffee and smiles.
"Thanks for the coffee, Arthur," the customer eyes his name tag and smirks.
"Thanks for the psychology lesson--"
"Dom," the stranger cuts him off, "And any time."
3. In a bar, In Amsterdam
Arthur should have known it was a bad idea to go anywhere with Eames. The Brit clearly didn't have the same idea of a good time that Arthur did. Otherwise he would have never ended up in this loud, crowded club surrounded by sweaty Amsterdam-ians and sticky linoleum.
"I want to leave," he says almost immediately after Eames drags him in, but, of course, the bastard just grins cheekily and tries to pull him out onto the floor for a dance. Arthur quickly disentangles himself from Eames' arms and makes quick work of becoming a wallflower.
An hour later, he's watched Eames gyrate against several girls, a host of men, and two separate couples and his patience is shot. He waits until he catches the Brit's eye, scowls at him, and walks out of the club. He's barely made it twenty feet down the sidewalk when a hand comes down on his shoulder and swings him around.
"What was that about?" demands Eames.
"I just spend the last sixty minutes in that multicolored monstrosity for no reason other than to watch you hang all over other people," Arthur snaps, "Either take me home, or I'm walking."
"Well, then, I guess you're walking, darling," Eames says cooly, "Because I have better things to do than babysit a wet blanket like yourself."
With that, he turns and stomps away, muttering to himself. Arthur watches him go before continuing down the sidewalk. He has no idea where his hotel is from here, so he turns into a bar a few blocks later. It's much quieter than the club was, and fairly upscale, for a bar, so he sits down at the counter.
"Brandy Manhattan," he mutters, still quite sour from his argument with Eames.
"Fancy drink," someone says, and Arthur looks up from his contemplations of the countertop. Two seats down is a blond man, nursing a glass of scotch, "But I guess you look like a fancy person. What's a fancy person like you doing in Amsterdam?"
Great, Arthur thinks, I get away from that bastard Eames to be accosted by a drunk. It's my lucky day. "I'm just here for work," he says as the bartender sets his glass on the table in front of him, "I'm going back to the States on Friday."
Suddenly, the man is right next to him. "Oh, so you're going home soon. That's nice." Arthur rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, but he doesn't move. Apparently, the drunk takes this as invitation to chat. "I can't go home."
"Why not?" Arthur asks halfheartedly. He doesn't necessarily expect an answer, so what comes out of the stranger's mouth next startles him.
"My wife is dead. They think I killed her." The look on his face is so pained that Arthur doesn't even feel the need to ask the obvious question.
"I'm...so sorry," he manages, feeling more than a little stupid.
The other man takes another gulp of scotch and shrugs, " 'Least you didn't ask if I did it or not," he points out. Staggering to his feet, he gives the bartender a little wave. "I'm gonna go home," he slurs, takes a single step, and falls down.
Arthur reacts instinctively, grabbing the man around the waist before he can have a very close chat with the floor. The man looks at him, blue eyes wide with bewilderment and Arthur releases him, letting him sway on the spot.
"I think you need help getting home," he says without thinking, "Do you want to share a cab?"
The man's shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal gesture and Arthur decides to take that as a yes. He pulls the man's arm across his shoulder and allows the complete stranger to lean on him for support. God, am I crazy or something?
"By the way," he says, "I'm Arthur."
" 'M Dom. Thanks for the taxi."
4. During a job, In Zurich
Arthur is the youngest member of the team and he knows some of the others don't trust him, especially the forger, a Brit named Eames. Only Zoe, the extractor, really stands up for him. As the team readies the PASIV device, Arthur catches Zoe's eye and she nods encouragingly. He's determined to make them see that he really is worth their time.
"Now remember, guys, Cobb here is a pro," Zoe reminds them, brushing her plaited black hair over her shoulder, "He's one of the best extractors in the business, so be careful." Arthur glances at the man in the seat next to him, already unconscious. He's got tangled blond hair and a threadbare jacket. He doesn't look like much of a threat. he thinks.
"Here we go," Zoe says, and she punches the button on the PASIV. The last thing Arthur remembers is watching the Swiss landscape fly by outside the window.
Arthur finds himself standing in line at a bank. Since it's his first job, all he's supposed to do is act as a look-out while the others try to steal Cobb's secret.
Of course, that plan is shot to hell when the man in line in front of him turns around. It's Cobb, and he's smirking.
"Hello there, Arthur, is it? I'm Dom."
"Hi," Arthur manages stupidly. Cobb's smile widens, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.
"First job, hmm? They didn't really tell you what you were getting into," the mark leans closer, speaking in a confiding tone, "You're better than them. Sneaking around trying to steal my methods to use on other jobs."
"How did you know about this?" Arthur finally gets his mouth to work again, "Did you have an inside man?"
"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," Cobb says, shaking his head, "Haven't you noticed, a good extractor never reveals his secrets?"
"But--" stammers the point man, "I don't understand."
There's a glint in Cobb's eye when he answers, "Somehow, I think you will soon enough. Oh, and Arthur? It really was nice to meet you." In a swift move, the extractor pulls a gun and shoots him in the head. He doesn't even have enough time to gasp in surprise before he jerks awake.
It's only a few minutes before all the others come to, and he can tell immediately that they've failed. Zoe and the architect, Martin, are glaring at him. Eames, however, is smirking.
"What happened?" demands Zoe.
"Cobb, he knew we were there. He talked to me in the bank. Knew my name," Arthur rushes to explain, "He shot me!"
"How could he have known?" Martin asks, completely disregarding Arthur.
"The way he talked--" Arthur hesitates, "I--I think he might have had an inside man."
The silence that follows is tense, but it lasts only a few moments before Eames laughs loudly, lightening the mood.
"An inside man, huh, darling?" he teases, "Which one of us could it possibly be?" Giving the point man a sly smile, he winks and turns to gather his things. "Well, I don't know about you lot, but I'm getting out of here before he wakes up. Train stops in Zurich in fifteen. Ta." He's gone before Arthur can voice his suspicions to the others. Not that they'd believe me anyway.
As they rest of the team disperses, Arthur slowly picks up his briefcase and heads for the compartment door. He makes sure not to glance back at the sleeping extractor, or to dwell on how interesting their mark had turned out to be.
5. Through a mutual friend, In Rome
When Arthur meets Mallory Cobb for the first time, he thinks he might be in love. She's beautiful, intelligent, and classy. She's also married, which makes the whole point moot, but Arthur can't help wondering what kind of man could possibly deserve her.
Dream sharing is a relatively new technology and the military has jumped enthusiastically onboard, sending their best and brightest to foreign locations to learn all about the process. That's how Arthur finds himself in Rome, under the instruction of Mrs. Cobb (she insists he call her Mal and, eventually, he does).
The first time he wakes up from a shared dream, he knows he's hooked. Judging by the knowing look in Mal's eyes, she knows it too.
"It's incredible, isn't it?" she says with a coy smile.
"Amazing," he is quick to agree.
"It's a shame, though, that the military has control over the program," she speaks slowly, deliberately, as if carefully choosing her words, "There is so much potential in other fields as well."
Arthur pauses, feeling her eyes on him. "It really is unfortunate," he says cautiously, "The technology is worth so much more than that." When he finally dares to look up at her face again, Mal is beaming at him, and he knows he's chosen his words correctly.
The next day, she introduces him to Dom.
"Arthur, this is my husband, Dom," she says, stepping aside for the two men to approach each other.
Immediately, Arthur understands why Mal is married. Her husband is just as beautiful as she is and, Arthur can tell from the brightness in his blue eyes, that he's probably even more intelligent. His stomach gives a funny little jolt as Arthur reaches out to shake the older man's hand.
"Mal's told me all about you," Dom says with a smile, and Arthur feels his pulse quicken. What is the matter with me? He wonders. Over Dom's shoulder, Mal is giving him that knowing look again. What--?
"I hope all good things," he manages. Dom laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
"Excellent things," the older man answers, "I'm very excited to see what you can do Arthur."
"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work with you," Arthur answers, falling back on the formality he's so used to. Dom gives him another delighted grin and Arthur feels a little light-headed.
Leaving the meeting later that afternoon, Arthur is still somewhat at a loss. The only thing he knows for certain is that he's eager to spend more time with Dominick Cobb.
+ 1. In a dream
"Good afternoon, Mr. Callahan, I'm Mr. Charles," says the man standing in front of him. He's a handsome man, with blonde hair, and intelligent blue eyes, "If you'll just follow me, we can get started on the interview."
Arthur stays where he is, feeling a bit disoriented. He's standing in the foyer of a large, glass-walled skyscraper by the looks of it, but he can't remember for the life of him how he got here.
"I'm sorry," he says, "I don't really remember what I'm doing here." The floor trembles slightly, but Arthur doesn't notice, his attention fixed on the other man.
Mr. Charles smiles sympathetically, "Jet lag? I have trouble with it too. We can get you some coffee, if you like. Follow me." He starts down the hallway without even looking to see whether the younger man is following him.
Arthur does. Nonetheless, he still feels very off. Something is not right...
The ground rumbles again, and this time Arthur does notice. There is a moment of silence as all of the other people moving through the hallway stop what they are doing to stare at Mr. Charles.
"Impressive," Mr. Charles murmurs, glancing back at Arthur, "Just down this way, Mr. Callahan." He opens an office door and leads Arthur inside. "Have a seat, Mr. Callahan," the older man says as he digs in a file cabinet behind the desk. "Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Brandy?"
"No thank you, I'm fine," Arthur answers, sitting heavily in a chair in front of the desk. He's still trying to get his bearings, without much success when Mr. Charles finally finds his file and sits down across from him.
"So you were a Classics major, did a stint in the Marines and have worked as a museum curator and security personnel," Mr. Charles reads off, "What makes you think that you'd be a good fit in this position?"
Arthur hesitates. "Honestly, I'm still not sure what I'm doing here, or even what job you're talking about," he admits, "I don't remember anything after landing in Newark last night..."
The floor gives a magnificent lurch and a Jean Baptiste replica slides off the wall and crashes to the floor. Arthur looks around, startled, but Mr. Charles reacts only with a broad grin.
"You really do have an eye for detail," he comments, still wearing that bizarre grin, "So the job is yours, if you want it."
"Just like that?" Arthur says in disbelief.
"Just like that," agrees Mr. Charles, "Of course, before you make your decision, I should probably tell you that my name isn't actually Mr. Charles. It's Dominick Cobb. You can call me Dom if you like."
"You're that extractor!" Arthur says, and all the pieces fall together, "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"
Dom doesn't answer, just smiles. "We're looking for a point man for our team. Are you interested?"
This time, Arthur doesn't hesitate. "Oh yes. I'm very interested."