Title: That Which You Have Waited For
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb
Rating: R
Warnings: Movie spoilers, non-explicit sex
Length: 7,786 words
Summary: Good things come to those who wait, or so one hopes.
A/N: Longest fic I've written ever. Well. That I finished. Original prompt is over
here.
“You know full well we could do the job without Cobb.”
The point man glances out of the corner of his eye at Eames, who is lounging on his couch. “We need an extractor, Eames,” Arthur mutters. “Unless you forgot that that’s the entire point of the job?”
The rain lashes against the windows as the winds howl outside. It’s typhoon season in Japan, and for the third day in a row, Arthur finds himself cooped up in the same hotel room as Eames.
“Right, and you haven’t a clue as to how to extract, do you? Of course you wouldn’t, not after going under with Cobb so many bloody times.”
“I already told you that I have no intention of being the extractor.”
“Then let me.”
“No.”
“You don’t trust me to do it?”
“I’m not doing this without Cobb.”
Eames sighs and lets his head roll back against the couch. Arthur turns his attention away from the forger and resumes looking over the stack of documents in front of him. “What is it with you and Cobb, hm?” Eames finally asks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with him.”
The forger looks up with a grin, fully expecting Arthur to lob something at him, but when nothing comes flying toward his head, Eames sits up straight and stares. Arthur’s swallowing hard and focusing just a little too much on the papers in his hands. From his vantage point, Eames can see the muscles in the point man’s jaw twitch ever so slightly, and the crease in his brow is just a little deeper than it should be, considering the situation.
“Oh, now this is just too funny.”
A pen zings by Eames’ head then, and he ducks just in time. Still, the grin dancing on his lips doesn’t go anywhere; it actually broadens. “Arthur, darling, whatever shall we do with you?” he teases. “You didn’t seem the type to keep schoolboy crushes. The man’s got a family you know.”
Arthur carefully, almost too carefully, sets the papers down. “Say a word of this to him, and death will be the least of your worries, Eames.”
“Touchy, aren’t we?”
A notebook comes flying Eames’ way, and this time, it hits its mark.
***
It’s been twenty-six minutes since Eames and Arthur parked their car across the street from Cobb’s house. It’s pouring rain, and the windshield wipers are working overtime. Eames stretches an arm across the back of the passenger seat, disregarding Arthur’s personal space. “Always the rain,” he mutters. “Whatever happened to sunny California?”
“It’s better than them having wildfires. I doubt the people here would complain of a little rain.”
Eames shrugs and pulls his arm back, settling his hands in his lap instead. He glances over at Arthur. “So are you going to go ask him or not?” he asks. “Or shall we just continue to burn petrol here?”
“I can’t.” Arthur turns to glare at Eames. “Weren’t you the one who said that it’d be wrong to pull him away from his family?”
“And who was the person who insisted that he couldn’t get the job done without him? And, might I add, dragged us halfway across the planet to visit him?”
Arthur falls silent then. Eames reclines his seat and folds his arms back behind his head. “Look, just don’t let your emotions get in the way of your job,” he finally says, eyes sliding shut. “The last thing we need is for you to start projecting a bitter, psychotic Cobb in your dreams.”
“If you’re implying that I am at all unprofessional--”
“Arthur.” Eames is looking straight at the point man, expression serious. “I’m not questioning your ability or your reliability, but I don’t need to tell you what happened to Cobb when he let his feelings get the best of him.”
“Your worries are misplaced.”
“So long as they are.”
“Eames--”
“I won’t tell him anything, so go ask already.”
Arthur stares at Eames for a moment, brow creased. He presses his lips together and then gets out of the car. The door shuts seconds later with a wet squelch.
Ten minutes pass, and Arthur returns. Beads of water are running down his leather jacket, and he rubs a wet hand against his equally wet face. Eames cracks an eye open, yawning like he hasn’t been awake this entire time, and offers a lopsided grin.
“What’s the news?”
“Cobb’s at work.”
“Cobb’s... at work,” Eames says slowly. He quirks a brow. “Working without his point man? How unusual.”
“Not that kind of work,” Arthur replies, his answer coming just a little too quickly. “He’s at UCLA.”
“Oh, so he’s not cheating on you. Must’ve been a relief for you to hear,” the forger muses, almost disappointed that he lost something he could rib Arthur with. The look he gets from the point man for the comment, though, is quite worth the loss. “Who answered the door?”
“The grandmother.”
“Ah. Mal’s mum.” A pause. “So are we going to the university then?”
“Step on it.”
“Your patience is astounding, Arthur,” Eames says with a smile. He shifts the car into gear and floors it.
***
The Semel Institute is cold to his soaked-through body, but he knows there’s another reason why he’s shivering. Arthur takes a moment to calm himself and then checks the name plate by the door for the fifth time. It still reads the same: “Dominic Cobb, PhD - Oneirology.” He exhales and then knocks, knuckles rapping against the door once, twice.
“Door’s open.”
Arthur opens the door, and it takes a second for Cobb to lift his eyes from the paper he’s going over. But the moment he does, his face lights up. “Arthur,” he says, a smile spreading across his features. “You should’ve said you were coming.”
“Didn’t want to be a bother.”
“Why would you be?”
Arthur allows himself a smile, and they shake hands over the table. “Look, do you have a minute? Got something I want to talk to you about.”
At this, Cobb’s smile falters a little. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?” he finally says. Cobb gets up and clears up one of the extra chairs in his office, dropping the stack of papers residing there onto the floor. “Have a seat.”
Arthur sits and waits for the other to do the same before speaking. He settles his hands in his lap and leans against the back of the chair. “How’re the kids?” he asks, starting easy. “James get his birthday gift?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, he really likes the bike,” Cobb answers, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Phillipa wanted me to tell you she wants one too when her birthday rolls around.”
“They got ‘em in pink. I’ll make sure it gets there on time.” Arthur glances over at Cobb briefly. “Should I get pink streamers or red?”
“Red. I’ll let you know if her favorite color switches between now and then.”
“How many times has it happened so far this year?”
Cobb laughs softly and shakes his head. “Five,” he answers. “I’ve given up trying to paint her room.”
“I don’t blame you.”
An awkward silence falls between them, and they avert their eyes. Cobb folds his hands on the table, while Arthur shifts, resting his elbows on his knees. The rain beats against the windows, and the air conditioning hums quietly in the background. “So what do you need, Arthur?” Cobb says, breaking the silence. “I know you didn’t just come to ask about the kids.”
“We need an extractor,” the point man replies. “Eames and I are going to be doing some work in Taipei, and...” Arthur swallows the “I want you there” that he wants to say. “We could use your skills.”
Cobb looks like he’s going to say something, but Arthur cuts him off.
“I know you just got back to your kids, but I just want you to consider my proposal. That’s it.”
Cobb keeps his lips pressed together and nods his head. Arthur stands. “Number’s the same if you need to reach me,” he says before slipping out of the office. As he’s walking down the hallway, he hears the door open behind him.
The point man doesn’t look over his shoulder, doesn’t stop walking. Cobb doesn’t call out.
***
“What’d he say?”
“We’re going to Paris.”
“Paris?”
“Unless you want to find a new architect, yes--Paris.”
“Paris it is then.”
***
“You two are working together? Just the two of you? Seriously?”
“You have no idea the sort of tortures Arthur here has put me through, Ariadne. No idea whatsoever,” Eames says, voice slow and easy. Arthur rolls his eyes in response, and Ariadne laughs. “He’s a bloody slave driver, this one.”
“I wouldn’t have to be one if you’d complete things on your end.”
“Must we always be on such a regimented schedule?”
“We’ve been given a time frame to complete this job in, so yes,” Arthur bites out. Eames shrugs, a lazy shift of the shoulders. “So you see why we’re here, Ariadne. We’ve come to whisk you away for another adventure.”
“You need me to build mazes for you.”
“Precisely.”
To their surprise, Ariadne sighs and shakes her head. “I can’t come with you guys,” she says, one corner of her mouth twisting downwards. “Unless the majority of the work is in Paris, I’m not sure how much I can do.
“I can’t just leave school for several weeks.”
“It’s not, but could you work with us if we stayed here for a while?” Arthur asks after a moment of consideration. Ariadne shrugs and nods. “Then we have ourselves a deal.”
Ariadne’s frown switches into a smile. “Same place as usual?”
“Same as usual.”
***
There’s a film of dust on everything in the warehouse, and Eames sneezes noisily when Arthur unlocks the door. “Was it like this when you came around last time, too?” he asks, gazing at the dingy windows through squinting eyes. “Because I’d hate to know what sort of cleaning job you had to go through to get everything into working order.”
“We’re not here for vacation, Eames,” is all Arthur says. The point man is already checking out his luggage; his priority is to make sure the PASIV device made it through the journey without any problems. Eames shrugs and follows after, kicking the warehouse door shut with his foot. “Need me to lock this?”
Eames picks the keys out of the air when Arthur tosses them over.
“You know, Arthur, you never answered my question,” the forger states, fact-like, when he ambles over to return the keys. Arthur looks up from wiping down a lawn chair with a paper towel and raises an eyebrow. “What question?”
“Cobb. What did he say?”
The point man’s gaze drops back down to the chair; for a few minutes work, it’s looking a lot less dusty. Arthur slips off his jacket and carefully drapes it over the back of the chair before rolling up his sleeves. “He didn’t say anything.”
“Ah.”
Arthur goes to rummage in one of his duffel bags and then turns to present Eames with a box. The forger looks down at it as the other moves off to continue cleaning and unpacking. “Swiffer?” Eames asks. “Are you saying you want me to clean, darling?”
Eames gets a look, and he rips the package open.
“Right. Cleaning.”
***
“About time you gave Ariadne some details, Arthur,” Eames drawls, two days into their stay in Paris. “I was starting to think you’d never tell her anything about this job.”
“This is a two part gig,” Arthur starts, ignoring Eames and writing a giant one and a two down on the white board behind him. “Our first subject is Mr. Tseng, former COO of Imagina Electronics, which is an on-the-rise company--Japan’s been dealing with some stiff competition from them recently.”
“Former?” Ariadne interjects, pausing in her note-taking to look at Arthur.
“He was in a bad car accident two months ago. Mr. Tseng is completely paralyzed, but his mind’s still good.” Arthur turns his back on Eames and Ariadne for a moment, scribbling down “Mr. Tseng” on the board under the one before putting down “Mrs. Lin” under the two.
“Mrs. Lin is the wife of the last CEO of the company.”
“Wait, did something happen to the CEO, too?” Ariadne asks. Arthur nods his head. “Mr. Lin’s dead: he got killed in the car accident that disabled Mr. Tseng.”
Eames whistles and shakes his head. “You didn’t mention that bit last time. Foul play?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Or just bad luck?”
“Bad luck, from the looks of it.”
“So what’s the client want?” Ariadne asks.
“Two codes,” Arthur responds. He draws two arrows down from the names he’s written, writing a pound sign under each one. “You use them to access a safe the COO and CEO shared.”
“It’s one of those “you must enter the password at the same time in order to get in” systems, Ariadne.” It’s Eames again, and he seems to have a mildly amused expression on his face. Arthur fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, what Eames said.”
“I thought they only did that in movies.” Ariadne shakes her head a little, as if disappointed by the set-up. “So what’s in the safe?”
“Mr. Tseng and the late Mr. Lin had been working on a secret project together--all they ever said was that this idea would put them over the top.” Arthur pauses for a moment and jots the words “safe combination” in between the two pound signs. “The new CEO--the late Mr. Lin’s son--wants to get his hands on those project documents, see if it’ll be of any actual use to furthering the company.”
“Alright, but why does he need to extract information from his own mom?”
“The client--” Arthur pauses and thinks about this for a moment. “He didn’t give a specific reason but said that she wouldn’t tell him anything.”
“Oh, alright. Um... Mr. Lin should be able to provide us with everything we need to know and give us all the access we could ever want, right?”
“Yes. In terms of access, we’ve never had an easier job. It’s just a matter of extracting from these two, and even then, I doubt it’ll be too hard. Research hasn’t pulled up anything about them getting trained.”
“Is Cobb coming?”
Eames and Arthur both turn to look at Ariadne. The latter only glances at her for a moment before turning back to the whiteboard. Eames sighs quietly and shrugs; his gaze drifts and settles on the point man. “The operation is riding on the fact that he is.”
***
It’s been three and half weeks since they left California for Paris, and the bedside clock reads 3:52 AM. Arthur’s cell phone rings, and he gropes around looking for it. When he sees “Cobb” as the caller, he picks up immediately, trying to shove as much grogginess out of his voice as he can.
“Hey,” he says.
“Where are you?” Cobb asks. Arthur think he sounds tired, like he hasn’t slept in days. “Paris. We’re working on mazes with Ariadne.”
On the other end of the line, Arthur hears the rustle of fabric and a soft sigh. He doesn’t say anything and just waits for Cobb to continue the conversation.
“Still need an extractor?”
“You offering?”
Cobb laughs, dry and hollow. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he says after a moment. “Same place?”
“Same place.”
“Be there in a few hours.”
The line dies.
***
When Arthur sees Cobb come into the warehouse later that day, his heart sinks. The man looks just as bad as he sounded on the phone. All the same, Cobb offers him a tired smile. “Looks like you’ve got a good operation here,” he says as he drops his duffel bag on the ground next to a lawn chair. “Got the plan worked out already?”
“We’re just sorting out the fine details now.”
Cobb sinks onto the chair and sighs. “Where are the others?” he asks, gaze flicking around the warehouse. “Running errands?”
“Grabbing a bite to eat, actually.”
“You didn’t go with them?”
Arthur turns away to fuss with the PASIV device, eyes carefully trained away from Cobb. “I was waiting for you,” he says. “I didn’t want you to come back to an empty room.”
The point man chances a glance at Cobb. Their eyes meet briefly, and there’s something foreign in that gaze. Arthur can’t place it, but whatever it is, it makes his pulse race.
“How’ve you been?” he asks after clearing his throat. “You look tired.”
“Just been thinking too much recently.”
Arthur looks over, finds Cobb staring at his hands. “You wanna talk about it?” Arthur asks. He turns and leans against the table, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ll listen.”
Cobb shakes his head but offers a half-hearted smile. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, but my offer still stands.”
“Thanks.”
***
It’s eleven at night, and Cobb and Ariadne are gone.
Arthur is hovering over Ariadne’s maze model, hands braced against the side of the table. Eames sidles over, looks over his shoulder with disinterest.
“Why don’t you just tell him?” he asks. “He likes you enough to come here.”
“It’s not that easy, Eames,” Arthur replies, not bothering to look over. “Do I need to remind you again that he already has a family? That he’s probably still grieving for Mal? That he probably came here for reasons unrelated to me?”
“Your point?”
Arthur stills.
“Lock up when you leave,” he mutters before walking out.
***
The next morning, Arthur feels Cobb’s eyes on his back the entire time they’re familiarizing themselves with Ariadne’s maze.
Eames won’t shut up about it for the rest of the day.
***
Arthur walks into the warehouse late one day, and he finds a note taped to his workstation.
“Out 2 post ofice. Yusuf sent us sum new chemikles. Ari came with,” it reads in Eames’ annoying scrawl. Arthur takes the note, crumples it, and tosses it into the trash. He slips off his jacket and drapes it on his chair before wandering further into the warehouse to see if Cobb is in.
And the extractor is.
Cobb is, in fact, lying on a lawn chair and hooked up to the PASIV device. Arthur stands a few feet away and quietly observes the other, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The man looks as exhausted as he had the first day he had flown in, and for a moment, Arthur wonders if he should wake him and ask that he try and get some real sleep.
But he can’t bring himself to do it.
He knows from past experience that Cobb dreams alone using the PASIV device to relive his memories, knows that Mal lives in the confines of those dreams. It doesn’t take a visit into the dream world or a spoken word from Ariadne for him to know it; Arthur’s just known Cobb long enough and well enough to understand that the man lives in his memories. If this is what he wanted, then it isn’t the point man’s right to wake him.
Instead, he takes a seat on the lawn chair next to Cobb’s and watches the other man sleep. It’s a good ten minutes before Cobb finally awakens, and Arthur finds himself smiling when he does.
“Hey.”
Cobb gives him an odd look and disappears into another room; Arthur assumes he’s gone to check his totem. The extractor comes back shortly after, an apologetic look on his face.
“Sorry, thought I was still dreaming for a moment there.”
Cobb doesn’t seem to catch the significance, but Arthur realizes then that he’d been the subject of the other’s dream.
***
Two weeks after Cobb arrives in Paris, the team is ready to head off to Taipei.
“You guys take care, alright?” Ariadne says when they’re at the airport, waiting for their flight halfway across the world. She gives each one of them a lopsided smile in turn. “And come back and visit sometime.” She pauses. “It doesn’t always have to be for work either.”
“Going to miss us, Ariadne?” Eames says, a cool grin working its way onto his features. Ariadne rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah,” she admits. “It’s nice having you guys around.”
“I’ll drop by again after the job,” Arthur says, as if to put in his two cents. Cobb shifts his weight, like he’s trying to think of something appropriate to say. “I’ll...” He gives Ariadne a forced smile. “Maybe I’ll come then, too.”
Ariadne looks over at Eames, as if waiting for an equally positive response.
“I’ll come after they’re gone.” The forger looks pointedly at Arthur, who glares daggers at him. “Wouldn’t hurt to spread out the visits a little, would it?”
***
After landing in Taipei, Cobb makes a beeline to a quiet corner in the airport to call his kids. This leaves Arthur and Eames standing just a little awkwardly by the baggage claim.
“He likes you.”
“You’re making things up in your head.”
“Oh, come on, Arthur, you know I’m good at observing people. It’s part of what makes me a top-notch forger.”
“Shove it.”
“Nice comeback.”
“Sorry about that. Just needed to see how the kids are,” Cobb says, rejoining them. He looks from Arthur to Eames and back to Arthur. “Everything alright?”
“Just fine,” answers Eames, grinning.
***
“Eames, double check when and where we’re meeting up with Mr. Lin,” Cobb calls from shotgun. Arthur’s at the wheel, shifting the Benz from lane to lane. The traffic in Taipei, he notes, is terrible. The streets are a mess with scooters, cars, trucks, buses, and the odd pedestrian. While there are lanes on the road, he’s not entirely sure anyone is bothering to pay attention to them; a scooter zips by in front of him on the crosswalk, as if to prove his point.
“I will when Arthur stops driving like a drunkard,” Eames mutters, fiddling with the netbook on his lap; the point man slams on the brakes to make a point. Cobb gives Arthur a look but doesn’t say anything. “As you were saying, Eames?”
“The Grand Hotel. He’s booked the state banquet room to meet with us, and we’re supposed to be there...” Eames checks his watch. “In twenty minutes.”
“Is that enough time?”
“Just a moment...” Eames types something on his computer. “We’ll be cutting it close. The drive’s not long, but the traffic’s shit here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know already,” Arthur grumbles as he presses his hand against the horn, honking at a car which just ran a very red light.
“Taiwan is approximately 390 kilometers in length, north to south.”
Arthur glances up at Eames through the rear view mirror, while Cobb looks over his shoulder. The man shrugs.
“You asked.”
***
Mr. Lin is not exactly the epitome of CEO material. He is short, wears a pair of thick, round glasses, and seems physically unable to stop moving his hands; his suit also seems to fit him poorly, like it’s several sizes too big, and his hair sticks up at odd angles. Arthur isn’t entirely sure what to make of him, but the client’s the client.
“I had not known that Mr. Cobb would be joining your team, but I am most honored to have such a renowned extractor working for me,” says the man. Cobb dips his head but says nothing. “As you already know, I would like you to extract two codes: one from my mother and one from Mr. Tseng.”
“Yes, Mr. Lin, I believe we have gone over this when we first met. We should have all the details necessary to extract the information successfully,” Arthur states. “I assume that we will be discussing when you will be making them available to us now?”
“Of course! I offered to handle all of Mr. Tseng’s medical issues and expenses, so it was no trouble to have him moved to a room here at the hotel for the evening,” Mr. Lin answers. “If you would like, you are free to begin your operations on him tonight.
“As for my mother, I would like to see your results from Mr. Tseng first, if possible.”
“Then we’ll begin shortly,” answers Cobb. Mr. Lin nods and gestures at the food in front of them. “But please enjoy your dinner first. I will show you to Mr. Tseng’s room afterwards.”
***
Halfway through dinner, Cobb’s knee knocks against Arthur’s. When the point man looks up to offer the other an apologetic smile, he notes that the other is looking the other way, like he’s trying to avoid his gaze.
The smile slowly dies on Arthur’s lips, and he settles back into the rhythm of conversation. Neither point man nor extractor notice Eames watching them with mild amusement.
***
Three hours pass before the team actually assembles in Mr. Tseng’s hotel room.
“He sleeps a great deal these days,” Mr. Lin comments, as his team of doctors and nurses flit around the Mr. Tseng’s bed. Arthur’s eyes travel around the room, taking in all the wires, tubing, and monitors before settling on one screen in particular.
“He’s in REM sleep now,” he comments. “We’ll have to wait until he’s out of it to continue.”
Mr. Lin turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I am not familiar with the exact science of the PASIV device. Why would this be the case?”
“He’s already dreaming. We need him in our dreams,” answers Cobb. “We go in now, and we’re going to be working in whatever environment he sets up. It’s too risky.”
“I see,” Mr. Lin says, turning back to watch the monitors. “Then we shall wait.”
“In that case, I’ll just excuse myself for a few minutes,” Eames states before ambling toward the door. He just stops short of the exit and glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting Arthur’s. “And do behave while I’m out.”
The door opens and shuts, and the forger is gone before Arthur can even get anything out of his mouth. Instead, he balls his hands into fists, but when he feels a hand on his shoulder, he relaxes. “You alright?” Cobb asks, hand squeezing gently. “Don’t let Eames get to you; you know how he likes to joke around.”
Arthur shifts slightly to face Cobb. “I’m fine,” he mutters. “Don’t worry about it.”
Cobb’s hand is still on his shoulder, and it’s almost as if it takes a moment for the extractor to notice, as he pulls it away suddenly, like he’s been burned. He gives Arthur an awkward smile.
“So long as that’s the case.”
***
Thirty minutes pass before Mr. Tseng comes out of REM sleep.
“Get Eames,” Cobb says. “I’ll get the room and PASIV device set up.”
Arthur nods and leaves the room to go look for the forger, only to find him standing right next to the door. Eames grins. “Confess yet?”
“It’s time,” the point man states, not rising to the taunt.
“Shame.”
***
“I might have to go visit the Forbidden City myself one day, if this is anything like it,” Eames comments absently. Arthur doesn’t bother to give him a look and continues to walk down the hallway. “You know Ariadne doesn’t build off of memories, Eames.”
“That isn’t to say she wasn’t inspired by it though,” the forger mutters, slowing and then coming to a stop in front of a jade-encircled mirror. “Where’s Cobb?”
Eames’ change in voice causes Arthur to look over; he finds a beautiful concubine where the forger had been standing. He rolls his eyes. “He’s at a different starting position. I’ll rendezvous with him later.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“Cobb is a professional.”
“So is that a yes or a no?”
“What are you trying to say, Eames?” Arthur asks, voice deathly calm. The forger walks over, hips swaying with each step. “I’m just making sure you’re not emotionally compromised, is all.”
Arthur steps away from Eames; a humorless smile graces his features. “You may have just found out about this recently, but rest assured that I’ve worked through numerous jobs like this already--the inception included.”
“You speak of it like an affliction,” the forger purrs, eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks. “And what’s to say this time won’t be different?
“Cobb’s changed. I can tell.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I believe I have a job to do, as do you.” Arthur turns sharply on his heel and makes his way down another hallway. Eames watches him go, grins, and then continues on his way.
***
With Eames out of sight and out of mind, Arthur follows a trail of dead projections until he runs into Cobb, who is working on cracking a safe. Eyes not leaving the dial, Cobb asks, “Distraction’s in place?”
“Unless Eames has been held up, yes.”
“How are we on time?”
Arthur checks his watch. “An hour and a half,” he answers. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
There’s a soft click from the safe, and Cobb opens it. Inside, he finds a single red tulip and a small scroll. Taking the flower out, he studies it for a moment before passing it on to Arthur.
“Mean anything to you?”
“I’m not familiar with the language of flowers,” he answers, a small smile curling his lips, before returning the bloom to the other. Cobb places it back in the safe. “What’s on the scroll?”
They unfurl it, and, unsurprisingly, it’s covered with Chinese characters. Cobb shakes his head and laughs dryly. “Good thing we’ve got time to kill. I’m going to need it to memorize this damn thing.”
Arthur watches over Cobb quietly as the other works. It’s a little harder than he expects it to be.
***
When they wake, Cobb asks for pen and paper immediately. He starts scribbling in Chinese, and Eames and Arthur leave him in peace. The last thing they want to do is make Cobb forget everything he’s remembered.
“I didn’t see any Cobb projections,” Eames comments quietly from the other side of the hotel room. He’s grinning from ear to ear. “Good job, Arthur. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle that much alone time with Cobb.”
Arthur finds himself wishing that he had had a chance to shoot Eames while they were under. He contemplates doing it next time.
***
“Your calligraphy is terrible, but I can still read what it says,” Mr. Lin tells them the next day but not without humor in his voice. He studies Cobb’s handiwork, and his lips quirk upwards, delighting in having the message in his hands. “The special thing about it is this first line here...” His finger runs right to left across the top row. “Makes sense horizontally, but it also makes sense when read vertically.”
“So does it contain the information you need?” Arthur asks. Mr. Lin nods his head slowly. “It does. The code makes up that top row, you see.
“Mr. Tseng didn’t use the traditional characters for numbers,” he continues. “There wouldn’t be any elegance in his writing if he did that. No, it would seem that Mr. Tseng has opted to use words that sound the same as the numbers instead.
“It really is an excellent example of poetry.”
“Good to hear the job came out alright,” Cobb says with a slight dip of the head.
“Thank you for your hard work,” Mr. Lin says, a smile lighting his features. “I feel confident that you will be able to get the necessary information from my mother as well now.”
“Why can’t you just ask her?” Eames ventures, earning him a glare from Arthur. “I don’t really understand why she won’t just tell you.”
The smile on their client’s face falters. “I have... tried. My mother...” He pauses and clears his throat. “She isn’t speaking to anyone anymore. She hasn’t said a word since the day my father passed.”
***
Cobb gets a letter from Mr. Lin later that day with details regarding when he wants to them to enter his mother’s dreams. When he hands it to Arthur, their hands touch briefly, and the point man swears Cobb flinches, as if shocked.
Arthur doesn’t press the issue when Cobb excuses himself.
***
The next night, Mr. Lin presents his mother to the team already unconscious and resting on a bed. She looks thin and drawn but otherwise healthy. Arthur suspects that heartbreak has taken its toll on her health, but he doesn’t say anything about the matter as he sets up the PASIV device.
As he works, he notices how Cobb stares at the old woman with a look that could only be sympathy and understanding. His expression haunts Arthur as he goes under.
***
It’s springtime in the dream; Arthur finds himself standing next to Cobb in a Japanese garden. The scent of jasmine fills the air, and a gentle breeze rustles the greenery. Birds sing happily in the trees. For all appearances, everything seems well in the dream world.
“I shouldn’t have asked this of you. I made you leave James and Phillipa behind again.”
Cobb looks away from the koi pond to their right and at Arthur. There’s a puzzled look on his face; he isn’t ready for the sudden comment. The point man gives him an apologetic smile and makes a move to leave, but Cobb finds himself grabbing the other by the arm before he can stop himself.
Arthur’s eyebrows fly upward, and he blinks rapidly. Cobb lets go then and looks down at his hand, as if confused with himself. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I chose to come here myself.”
“I’m sorry all the same.”
By the time Cobb looks up, Arthur’s gone.
***
“Where’s Cobb?” Eames asks when they rendezvous. Arthur doesn’t say anything for a moment and kills some time by smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his suit. “I left him by the koi pond.”
“Bit cold of you, isn’t it?”
“He’s got other things to do.”
“Does he?” Eames looks over at Arthur. “If I remember correctly, the plan called for all of us to be present while we speak to Mrs. Lin.
“We were going to try and sell her our anti-extraction training, weren’t we?”
Arthur presses his lips into a thin line. “We’re fine like this,” he mutters. “I’ll take care of it in his place.”
“Says the man who didn’t want to play extractor. Why the change of heart, darling? Feeling guilty?”
“Drop it, Eames,” the point man says, voice like ice.
“As you wish.” The forger sighs and fishes out a small mirror from his pocket. When Arthur looks over, the late Mr. Lin is staring back at him. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
***
“Mr. Lin, Mrs. Lin,” Arthur starts, bowing to the couple. “Have you ever heard about extraction before?”
“Isn’t that where someone enters your mind during a dream and attempts to steal information?” Eames asks, turning to take Mrs. Lin’s hands into his own. “Is this a growing problem?”
“Corporate espionage rose to a whole new level when people discovered that shared dreaming could be used this way,” Arthur replies. “This is why I’m here to offer you my services.
“I’ll teach you how to arm your mind against those who would want to break into your dreams.”
“Oh, but wouldn’t it be better to just teach my husband? He is, after all, the CEO--not me,” Mrs. Lin starts, but Eames is quick to stop that train of thought. “It wouldn’t hurt for the both of us to have a bit of training.”
“But--”
“Mrs. Lin, even though you believe yourself safe from extraction, let me tell you now that by simply being Mr. Lin’s wife, you are in danger,” Arthur comments, leaning forward for emphasis. “I assure you that this training will be nothing but a benefit to you.
“I will, however, need both of you to be completely open with me. I need to know all your secrets so that I can tell you how to protect them.”
“All of my secrets... ?” Mrs. Lin looks a little terrified of this idea, but Eames squeezes her hand and gives her a smile. “It’ll be alright.”
She looks from her husband to Arthur, mouth slightly ajar. “...Well, if you say so.”
“Good. Is there anything in particular you wanted to start with?”
“There is this one item...” Eames starts, face twisting with perfectly imitated worry. “A little side project I am working on with the COO...” Just then, a phone rings in the distance. Eames rises and excuses himself. “Please continue speaking with Arthur,” he says to Mrs. Lin. “I will rejoin you as soon as possible.”
She spills it all before Eames returns ten minutes later.
***
Arthur pulls his tie loose with three quick tugs. It has been a long night, what with extracting the information from Mrs. Lin and then dealing with the client immediately afterward. All Arthur can say is that he’s glad the job’s over. He starts working on his vest when there’s a knock at the door. When he answers, he finds Cobb standing there, expression unreadable. A million thoughts zip through his mind, and Arthur’s not sure what to think about the other’s sudden appearance at his door.
“Look, I’m sorry I left you there at the--”
“I saw the flower in her dreams--it was in the courtyard.”
“The same one we saw in Mr. Tseng’s dream?” Arthur asks, brow creasing; this is not what he had been expecting. Cobb nods. “Are they of any significance?”
“Ariadne didn’t put that in the maze, did she?”
“No, she didn’t. I didn’t add it either.”
“I see. Well, it’s good the job is over; we can leave once we get paid,” Cobb mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “Everyone’s happy.”
“Yeah. This job worked out pretty well.”
Cobb makes as if to leave but stills at the last second. Instead, he leans heavily against the door frame, eyes focused on a spot just right of Arthur’s foot. The point man shifts his weight and waits for the other to say something, do something--anything.
“It was...” Cobb starts. “It was nice working with you again.” The words sound awkward coming out of the extractor’s mouth, like he’s trying to say something else but it’s coming out all wrong. “I missed it.”
Arthur wishes that the “it” had been a “you.”
“I bet your kids miss you more.”
Cobb keeps staring at the ground but nods his head.
“Maybe.”
***
Exactly one week after their arrival in Taipei, the team finds themselves back at the airport. Eames is saying farewell to Cobb and Arthur, and he waves his ticket to Sydney in the air as he walks backward away from the other two.
“Enjoy Paris, and say hello to Ariadne for me,” he calls out. “I hear it’s an especially romantic city when you’re not obsessed with work.”
“I still don’t get why you won’t come back with us, Eames,” Cobb protests, but there’s a smile on his face. “There’s not really any reason for you to separate your visit from ours.”
“Oh, but I think there is. You both know what I mean.”
Arthur opens his mouth to protest, but Eames is already off and away around a corner. So instead, he clamps his mouth shut and forces himself to not look over at Cobb.
He also tries not to read too much into the awkward silence they share.
***
When they get to Paris, Arthur gets a text message from Eames. It simply reads, “did u tell him yet??”
He deletes the message while Cobb is getting his luggage.
***
“You’re back already?” Ariadne asks over the phone. “Wow, that was fast.”
“It was an easy job,” Arthur replies, as he hails a cab. “You free now?”
There’s a moment’s pause, like Ariadne’s considering something. Finally, with a little sigh, she answers. “Actually, I’ve got an exam tomorrow that I need to be studying for. Can you and Cobb just hang out by yourselves tonight?”
“Sure, that’s not a problem,” he answers. It is a little disappointing, but he reminds himself that she is, in fact, a student. “Tomorrow then?”
A taxi pulls up beside the curb.
“Yeah, sounds good. Say hi to Cobb for me.”
“Will do.” Arthur ends the call as he climbs into the cab. Cobb’s a welcome presence at his side when he slides in after him. Leaning toward the driver, Arthur gives the man the address of their hotel before settling in the back seat.
“What’d she say?” Cobb asks. Arthur shrugs. “She’s got to study, so we’re on our own tonight. She sends her regards though.”
“Oh.”
They both fall silent then, and the remainder of the ride is awkward as hell.
***
They get suites next to each other, and Arthur bids Cobb good night before disappearing into his room. After dropping his luggage on the ground, he sinks into the nearest chair he can find and rests his head against the back of his chair, his eyes sliding shut.
A few minutes later, he gets a text message from Eames.
“u sleeping 2gether now?”
Arthur throws his phone across the room.
***
It’s 4:07 AM when Arthur gets woken by the sound of rapping at his door. His first thought is that someone’s out to get him, so he fishes out a handgun before edging quietly toward the door. When he checks the peephole, though, he finds Cobb and only Cobb standing there in the hallway. Arthur exhales and puts the safety back on before opening the door.
“Cobb?” he asks when he pulls the door open. The extractor is standing there looking tired and disheveled. Cobb’s still wearing the clothes he wore on the plane, except now he’s got a few buttons undone and his shirt is hanging out; his jacket’s gone but his tie still hangs loosely around his neck. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Can’t stop thinking.”
“What’s on your mind?” Arthur gestures with a quick tilt of the head to invite Cobb in and closes the door after him. He turns on the lights before dropping his gun off on the dresser and then turning to see where Cobb went. The point man finds the other sitting on the bed, head in his hands.
“You.”
Arthur stills, and he swallows hard; he’s suddenly very awake. “Me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
“I can’t help it. It’s been like this since I went back to my kids,” Cobb starts. His voice is breaking in odd places. Arthur feels his breath hitch. “Tried to move on but I couldn’t.
“I can’t stand the idea of choosing the kids over you or you over the kids, and I know this isn’t right. I missed you, Arthur. Missed working with you, missed seeing you, talking to you. I missed being with you,” Cobb’s rambling now, hands making broad and irregular gestures. Arthur takes a few tentative steps toward him, stops just short of arm’s length from the other. “I shouldn’t be here laying this down on you now. This isn’t what you want to be hearing at whatever the hell hour it is, but I like you. I like you. There, I said it. I can’t change that fact, and I’m--”
Arthur leans in and kisses him, lingering a hair’s breadth away once they part.
“--sorry.”
Cobb’s staring at him with wide eyes. “Shit,” is all he says, and Arthur smiles.
“I’d prefer ‘fuck,’ actually.”
***
Arthur’s not sure if he’s in a dream or reality any more. Lust and pleasure have completely addled his mind, and when Cobb does this or that with his hands, tongue, lips, teeth, he’s not sure he’s got a mind at all because then everything disappears into incoherency.
And there are moments when he hears things--groans and gasps, words uttered past breathless lips, but Arthur’s not sure if it’s all in his head or if it’s him or Cobb. All he knows right now is that his skin feels tight, like he’s about to burst, and that Cobb’s deep inside of him, shifting in ways that make his toes curl, make his back arch off the bed.
***
When Arthur finally wakes up, the bedside clock reads 2:17 PM. Cobb is still sleeping next to him, quiet and still with dreamless sleep. He leans over, presses a kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth before rolling out of bed.
The point man spots his cell phone on the floor where he had thrown it the night before. There are two texts waiting for him. The first is from Ariadne, and it reads, “I’ll be free after 4 today. Call me.”
Arthur smiles and makes a note to call her once Cobb is awake. The second text is, not surprisingly, from Eames, and it’s as obnoxious as ever.
“ur ttly fcking rite now i kno it its y u wont reply u basterd”
Cobb shifts slightly in bed, and Arthur looks over. He smiles before wandering back to bed and pulling the covers up to his waist, settling against the headboard. Arthur then turns his attention back to the text. “Your spelling is atrocious,” he writes. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say such things about my personal life.”
Seconds after sending the text, Eames replies.
“abot time u replied”
“Is there something you need?”
“so u w/cobb now??”
“Arthur?” The point man looks over at Cobb who is staring at him through half-lidded eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Arthur replies, tossing the cell phone onto a nearby chair. He doesn’t ever reply to Eames’ last text.
***
It’s been a month since the job in Taipei, and Arthur finds himself staying at Cobb’s place indefinitely.
Phillipa and James have just come home from a visit to the library with Miles, and there’s a book about flowers in the girl’s hands. “Daddy!” she says as Cobb sweeps her up into his arms. “Did you know that flowers have meanings?”
“Do they now?” he asks, all smiles. “Can you give me an example, Phillipa?”
“Pink roses are for friendship!” James chimes from his place by his father’s leg.
“And red tulips are for saying you’re in love with someone!”
Arthur finds himself looking from Phillipa to Cobb, who’s staring right back at him.
“Have you ever given someone red tulips before, Daddy?” Phillipa asks, drawing her father’s attention back to her. Cobb smiles and plants a kiss on her forehead.
“Subconsciously, yes.”