Eames sat in front of Arthur's desk, whistling as he went over the pages of research that had been lying there. He cursed as he dropped a sheet of paper and picked it up. He froze half-way back up as a glint of silver caught his eye.

One of the draws on the desk was slightly open and the sunlight from the window was glinting off something inside.

He put the pages back onto the desktop and opened the draw. Pulling out the item.

It was a shiny silver locket. It sent rays of light around the room as the sun re-bounded off of the surface.

Eames jumped as Arthur appeared from nowhere and snatched it out of his hand before walking across the other side of the warehouse.

"Whose is it?" Eames called after him. The Point Man didn't answer for a long time before he quietly answered The Forger's question.

"My mother's."

Eames stayed quiet as Arthur shut the door of one of the rooms and pulled out a newspaper clipping from the draw, quietly murmuring the words to himself.

"Susan, 32, and David Ogilvie, 35, died yesterday in a tragic car accident in which their only child survived. Their son has been taken into hospital care and it is still unclear whether he is stable and will make it through the night."
A picture on the newspaper clipping showed a younger version of Arthur lying unconscious in a hospital, cuts and bruises on the parts of his skin that were visible.

"Jesus, Arthur." Eames felt guilty for going through his teammate's draws and quickly put the clipping back into the desk draw, shutting it quietly. He sighed and rubbed his face between his hands. He always called Arthur a stick-in-the-mud because he thought that the man chose to be in that attitude just because he didn't like the people on the team.

He never knew that he had a reason for being so withdrawn.