The Streets of Chicago Part II
The offices of Cobb Inc., Office of Criminal Law, were located on the fifth story of a high rise off Boardwalk. They occupied the entire floor, and were sumptuous in a modern, wood-and-glass style that was clearly meant to show off the wealth of its owner.
Arthur was a senior researcher at the firm, and had his own office. It was large enough, with a wide, walnut desk, brass electrical fixings, and three ceiling-high windows that looked out over the city. Arthur loved it. He had been with Dom since the man had adopted him at sixteen years old, beginning as a paper pusher and quickly earning his name as a meticulous, organized, and scarily thorough compiler of information.
Dom had been married before Arthur met him to Mallory Beckett, a beautiful and charismatic woman if the stories were anything to go by, who happened to be related to Arthur.
“She looked for you her entire adult life,” Dom told him, his eyes somehow both warm and sad. “She never really forgave herself for leaving you.” Arthur couldn't imagine why; a thirteen year old girl taking care of a newborn on the streets? It was a disaster waiting to happen. By the sound of it, Arthur's early life was much easier than Mal's; he was fed and clothed and educated, whereas she was passed from foster home to foster home until she ran away from an abusive one when she was sixteen. Smart and pretty, she managed to make her way as a waitress, until she met Dom when she was nineteen. They fell in love instantly, according to Dom He was in pre-law at the time, and encouraged Mal to think about what she wanted to do with her life.
Mal decided she wanted to sing, and she was fortunate to be talented enough to get an audition at Julliard. One acceptance letter later, and she had a scholarship to the most prestigious music school in the country. Mal and Dom moved in together (to save on rent, was the byline), and were married the fall after Mal's graduation with her Baccalaureate. Dom had two more years to go, but they lived happily until then, content with each other and paying off student debt.
Dom's graduation was a huge celebration by his family, who presented him with a job in the family firm. Dom accepted, with gusto, and gradually became one of the best defense attorneys in the city. His father died if a heart attack at fifty-seven, and Dom inherited the firm. He did well as the leader, making changes more fitting with modern practices, and became known in his own right as a name to be reckoned with.
Five years after he took over the firm, Mal died. Brain aneurysm, the doctor's said, sudden and nearly painless. She was gone before the ambulance arrived. She had complained of headaches and spots before her eyes for several weeks beforehand, but as a singing instructor at finals, that was hardly unusual.
One year later, Dom found Arthur.
Arthur did not know Dom before Mal's death, and so he could not say what the man was like then, but he suspected that Dom with Mal was a very different man from Dom by himself. Quiet, grim, focused, grieving; this was the Dom who Arthur was introduced to. He got better as the years passed and Arthur became an invaluable member of his firm; his eyes were less shadowed, his shoulders less heavy, and he ate like a normal man of six feet and a hundred seventy pounds of muscle should.
Dom did not become a warm and fatherly figure to Arthur; instead, he was more like an older brother or an uncle, one that housed him and paid for his schooling and clothes and food. Arthur repaid him by being the very best at what he did.
Nobody took him seriously at first. He was skinny, floppy-haired kid with a big vocabulary and virtually no social skills. He was not charming, or friendly, or even annoying; the one thing he had going for him was that people considered him mysterious. This may have come from the fact that Arthur did not talk about his past-at all. Anyone who asked was told the same, one-line answer: “I grew up in an orphanage.”
Respect he earned through consistent, astonishing results, and by not rubbing the fact that he was smarter than almost everyone else in the building in their faces. He was persistent, and he was reserved; he did not make friends, but he was polite and could act modest when it suited him. Some people liked him simply because Cobb seemed to. Arthur hid his disdain of those people very well, and avoided them at all costs. Ironic, because they were the most eager to approach him.
He was well-established by the time he had worked at the firm for ten years, and he was quite comfortable with his life. He dated, everyone now and then, but nothing serious. He still lived with Dom, because the man would forget to eat if Arthur didn't make him-and hadn't that been interesting, learning to cook so they wouldn't live on takeout. The house was plenty large for both of them, and they both lived and breathed their job. It worked perfectly and there was no reason to change it.
Of course, then things changed rather drastically with Dom's new case.
The heir to one of the largest conglomerates on the globe, Robert Fischer of Fischer Industries, was murdered in his hotel room, after what looked like a tryst. DNA evidence was found on a man in his late twenties, sneaking away from the scene with a fortune in stolen art. The mug-shot did him no justice, but he was still handsome. More so in fact, his features more defined with maturity.
Dom handed him the file as he came in the door one evening, stuffing Arthur's freshly-bakes rolls into his mouth, and muttering, “Find everything there is to know about him,” and shrugged off his jacket. Arthur accepted the file and opened it, and froze.
“Eames,” he whispered.