Coda: The Point Man

Cobb glanced through the folder of information critically, feeling the weight of his employer's eyes on him. He felt rushed by the man's attention but refused to fall into the mistake of taking a job without enough information. The picture was of poor quality, a side view of the young adult slipping into a computer store. The mark looked like a ghost – the cameraman lucky to have caught him on film before he vanished again. Pale, dull skin. Lips twisted down into a pained-looking frown. Shaggy black hair, looking clean but unkempt – as though it wasn't worth the time. Similarly, the clothes hanging off the boy's frame looked clean but out of place, as though he had bought the clothes years ago, lost weight, and not cared enough to buy more. And even though the information on a separate sheet of paper said he stood at 5'10", his mark's shoulders were hunched like he was hoping the world would not take notice – would pass him by.

The information behind the photograph was even poorer quality. Cobb had the photograph. He had a name: Arthur Wells. He had a height. He had an age: twenty – What could a twenty year old have done to warrant this attention? A quiet part of his mind asked. He had a line indicating that the mark had recently finished his undergraduate degree at Yale – impressive, even if you didn't consider his age. But that was it. Cobb had no job or financial history, no hobbies, no schedules or popular hangouts beyond the Yale library and a nearby computer store. Hell, he didn't even have a home address!

"This information is shit," Cobb declared as he dropped the folder onto his employer's desk. "You expect me to take a job with this little to work with?"

"Information gathering isn't my job, it's yours," the man across the desk from him proclaimed loftily, seeming unbothered by Cobb's words. "I just tell you what to do with the mark and pay you."

"Still," Cobb huffed in annoyance, "you have the resources, not us. You could have at least gotten me an address or a common haunt of the mark. I don't know how you expect me to do everything." From the moment they received a job, he and Mal were already swamped trying to prepare. Dom had to create a useable dreamspace that would influence the mark while his wife had to figure out the best angle to work in order to get the required information. It took at least twice as long to complete a job when they had to get the information on their mark as well before they could even begin that. Not to mention the added danger of the mark noticing their presence and fleeing or fighting back.

"Look, do you want this job or not?" Mr. Keyes stubbed out a foul-smelling cigar lazily. "I'm sure I could find someone else with your skills if you don't."

Cobb felt himself bristle with indignation even as the bottom of his stomach seemed to drop away in fear. How dare this man assume that Dom and Mal were commonplace, a dime a dozen? He certainly wouldn't argue that he and Mal were the only dream workers out there, or that they were the originators of the profession. However, they were some of the best in the business and were certainly not amateurs; their work could not be duplicated.

And yet, they needed this job. He and Mal had always stayed on the right side of the law, only taking legal jobs. But then everything had started to become too much like the service industry. Architects especially were having their efforts abused, employers taking students fresh out of colleges and universities while dropping the older, more experienced dream workers. Designing military training grounds didn't require much skill, so they went for the cheaper option. Mal hadn't had things much better; she could have either become entangled in some classified government jobs as a skilled Extractor, likely to someday disappear without a trace, or she could keep the simpler and safer jobs. With little option, Dom and Mal had begun to turn to illegal dream work.

At the same time, illegal dreamwork was still growing as a means of making money. You got paid big sums of money to complete a job, but jobs were still rather rare. The rules hadn't been entirely established yet, so employers and workers were both edgy and nervous about getting involved in a business transaction. No one knew who to trust, or how to keep yourself and your investments safe. Dom and Mal had only started taking jobs out of necessity, but despite the struggle of finding work, they had both admitted that they were beginning to enjoy it much more than legal work. There was so much more...freedom in what you could do and create. They were only bound by their own morals and ethics.

Those moral codes were what caused Cobb to nod, insist he would take the job, and then voice the question, "What exactly do you require of the mark?"

"Silence."

Cobb blinked, noting the heavy sense of dread washing over his body. "Excuse me?"

"I need you to get information from him and then silence him for good. I hired him to collect information for me and he betrayed me. He took the money and got the information, but sold it to someone else," the business man sitting across from him, from what Cobb knew, was involved in some sort of computer technology. Something he claimed would 'really take off some day'. "I need you to collect the information I paid for, and then make sure the boy doesn't keep talking."

"Look, I don't know what you think I do-" he began to protest, having no interest in becoming a real life mercenary. He had had to kill people in the dreamspace before, but that was different. People woke up from dreams and nightmares.

"Fine, fine, if you're too soft then I'll get someone else to take care of the kid. But you need to get that information out of his head." Dom wanted to say something, truly he did. But he knew that would only get him killed as well. However, his mind was already rushing through new plans, wondering if he could collect the information and then warn the kid away. He'd have the information and the mark would survive.

Another thought occurred to him as he nodded and half stood from his chair, the folder of information held tightly in one hand. "You said you hired him to collect information..." he began. Mr. Keyes glanced up at him with mounting annoyance, but hadn't called security yet. "Is he a—uh..." he considered his words, "Like me?" Dom had never worked against another dream worker before and could only imagine how difficult it would be to trick another dream worker into believing the dream was reality. Of course, Dom doubted everyone else in the field had thought of totems.

His worrying was unnecessary though, when his employer let out an unattractive bark of laughter. "Hell no. No, this is just some kid who's good at sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. He seems to be disconcertingly apt at computer use as well," the man added as something of an afterthought, "though I couldn't imagine where he got a hold on a working model. The only ones worth owning are still extremely expensive. Anyway," attention returned to Dom, "Off with you. I expect results by the end of the week. Otherwise I'll get the information in my own way before the brat catches wind and bolts."

Dom felt himself swallow hard and nod, having nothing further to say as he left the office that smelt chokingly of the smouldering cigar. He was escorted out of the building by two burly looking men with suits and sunglasses on, who either deemed Cobb as some sort of threat or were simply taking pleasure in terrifying him. Either way, he didn't bother looking back once he was out in the open air again, free to stuff his folder away and disappear into the throng of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

The thought of the mark and the job had his stomach twisting into knots his whole walk home, not bothering with public transit and unwilling to spend money on a taxi. By the time he did actually make it home, he was beginning to feel physically ill. He allowed his head to rest back against the wall of the elevator as it climbed up six stories, ignoring the other occupants who had the courtesy of ignoring him in return. Dom stepped out of the elevator alone, this being the top floor of the building, and pulled his keys from his pocket with shaking hands as he neared his door.

He shouldered the door open and stepped into the apartment he and Mal shared. It was small since they had started to fall into the habit of moving around frequently when jobs went poorly. And unfortunately, jobs ended badly more times than he'd like to admit. It seemed that too often there was a little piece of information he'd miss or overlook – something that seemed insignificant in his research and yet be the pivotal aspect about the mark that unravelled weeks of preparation. The apartment was well decorated though, thanks to Mal – bless her. They were both used to living in some form of luxury – both of their families were well-off and the military paid well - but she had managed to make the apartment feel like home with furniture they wouldn't mind leaving behind if necessary.

"Dom, mon cher," Mal's soft, lofty voice greeted him as he stepped further into the apartment. For a moment Dom wasn't sure whether he was happy to see his wife or not, still feeling vaguely like he was going to throw up. "How did the meeting go?" He grimaced as he toed off his shoes and peeled off his jacket, moving to settle on the couch beside Mal and set the folder on the coffee table. He knew she could tell something was wrong immediately. Mal held his face between her hands and brushed his cheekbone gently. "Tell me."

Cobb sighed and allowed his eyes to drop closed for a few minutes, leaning into the caresses. Mal knew exactly what he needed; it was like magic. One of the reasons on a forever-growing list for why he was grateful everyday for winning her over and marrying her. Eventually though, he had to return to reality and pulled away slightly, picking up the folder with distaste. "Mr. Keyes is sending us after some...some kid!" Dom huffed angrily, opening up the folder for Mal to see the blurry photograph of their mark. "He's not even old enough to drink yet, Mal!"

Mal didn't respond right away, and Dom fell silent to give her time to read over the folder's contents. He noticed that she spent a few long minutes considering the photograph, but didn't interrupt her thought process. "And what exactly does our employer wish us to do to this Arthur?" she glanced up at him, folder open in her lap.

He let out a sigh of air, remembering the stench of the cigar smoke and the harsh line of his employer's lips. "He wanted us to collect information he hired Arthur to steal; apparently the kid sold the information to someone else. Then he wanted us to—to..." he took a calming breath when he felt Mal's hand rest comfortingly on his knee. "To kill him."

"Merde!" Mal cursed softly, gripping his knee a little tighter at the simple thought. "Dom, we can't—!"

"I know, I know," he nodded quickly, not wanting her to believe for a second that he was considering it. "I refused and he said he'll have someone else...take care of him after we get the information. But I refuse to let that happen." Dom swiped one hand over his face, feeling completely exhausted, while his other hand encompassed Mal's on his knee. "I was thinking we could get the information we need and then warn the kid away. We get the information and the payment and disappear before Keyes sends someone out. It's not likely he'll send someone after Arthur until he has the information."

"This will be very dangerous, mon cher," Mal reminded him carefully, though her voice was also growing stronger with energy and determination.

"I know," he gave a tight smile, "But I also know that we can do this together."

He leaned closer and sealed their lips together softly, his smile growing less strained when he felt her hum against his lips for a pleasant moment before kissing him more firmly. They parted after a few blissful moments, knowing they had more pressing matters to attend to. When Mal spoke next, her voice was all professionalism, business and a hint of curiosity. "So what do we know about this Arthur fellow? The information in this folder is embarrassingly little."

"That's all Keyes had for me," Dom explained in frustration, not even bothering to look over the information again as he took the folder and dropped it back onto the coffee table.

"Then I suppose you should start researching," Mal smirked at him lightly, always ready to take on a new challenge.

Dom groaned his displeasure. "I hate this part."

#

The next day Dom made his way to Yale's main campus on the other side of town, heading for the registrar's office. It was actually embarrassing how quickly he failed at his job of collecting seemingly-simple information on his new mark. He had spent a good chunk of the day watching the office that held all of the records on current and graduated students, as well as faculty and staff in each department of the university. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any time during the work day that the office was empty – even for a second – for him to slip in unnoticed.

He gave up a few minutes after five in the afternoon, ten minutes before a fake meeting he was supposed to have with a professor of Art History. Dom had read the name on a plaque for recent achievements and had used that as an excuse to loiter near the registrar's office for the day, brushing them off with a polite but unmemorable smile when they offered to page the professor. However, Cobb knew they'd page the man if he was late for the 'meeting'. He didn't need the professor informing the people at the office that the man waiting to speak with him was a complete stranger and probably crazy enough to require an escort off campus.

Dom had worn his very best suit for the day, hoping it would help him blend in with the students, staff, and teachers on campus. He received a few head turns, but no one seemed curious enough to remember him after he was out of sight. Cobb took this small piece of luck to cheer himself up about failing so miserably at this part of a job, but it was a small victory. After all, he wouldn't be able to stay on campus for too many days before he began to raise suspicion. Beyond that, he couldn't allow people to remember his face when there was going to be a mysterious 'break in' at the registrar's office.

He really didn't want to break into the office at night when no one was on campus, but he knew it would probably become a necessity. Dom was keeping it as his last resort, but he had to prepare for all potential futures. However, that first night he was forced to return home empty handed and already slightly discouraged.

The next day proved to be a little more successful, though that was sheer dumb luck. Early in the morning Cobb had headed to the main campus library, this time dressed more casually, remembering Keyes' minimal information on the mark. He mentally cursed when he was stopped at the library entrance, asked to sign a guest sign-in book and show some identification since he wasn't affiliated with the university. Dom tried not to panic and lied about forgetting his wallet in the car, promising to return later with it later. The balding, middle-aged man insisted that no, he wouldn't let Cobb in on the honour system.

Back out in the hallway, Dom cursed aloud under his breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? He had a fake ID back at the apartment, but it had been expensive and hard to come by. Dom and Mal each had a fake ID in case something went seriously wrong and they had to disappear; he shouldn't use it for as simple of a job as this.

It was as he leaned against the hallway wall, running an agitated hand through his hair as he tried to figure out his next move, that Dom noticed a table being set up on the grass outside of the library main building. The table hadn't been there when he had first entered, or maybe it had been and he had just been too rush and narrow-focused to notice. But as he saw the signs being hung around the table and the boxes being set under the table, it honestly looked like his salvation had arrived.

Yearbooks were on sale.

Feeling like a man stumbling upon an oasis in the desert, Dom rushed outside the building with a little more speed than could be deemed 'casual'. A line was already forming, so he discreetly swiped one of the books off the table and joined the back of the line, pretending to wait to hand over money. A few students joining the line behind him gave him odd looks, no doubt noticing that he looked a little old to be picking up an undergraduate yearbook. Nonetheless, Dom forced himself to act relaxed as he flipped open the hardbound book and searched the graduates section.

He continued to shuffle closer to the table with the line, only one group of giggling, excited girls in front of him when he finally found the right page. There, in the bottom right corner, was a tiny thumbnail coloured picture of his mark. The youth looked almost identical to the photo Keyes had provided, no smile on those lips and eyes looking a little absent; not absent due to lack of intelligence, but as though Arthur couldn't quite find a reason to pay attention and care. The column of text in the margins proclaimed 'Arthur Wells'. So at least he knew for sure that the kid did actually go to this school, though the yearbook was certainly not helpful in providing an address to work with. Dom flipped through the book to skim through photos of various campus clubs, hoping he might catch another glimpse of his mark to find more hobbies to work with.

"Uh, excuse me?" Someone cleared their throat loudly in front of him, but Dom ignored it as he continued to flip through the glossy pages as quickly as possible. "Dude? Seriously." A finger was snapped in front of Dom's face and he jolted in surprise, nearly dropping the yearbook to the ground. "Good, you are listening," the girl sitting behind the desk rolled her eyes before blowing a bubble with her chewing gum. "You need to fork over twenty bucks and a student or faculty ID so that you can continue reading your precious yearbook," she seemed to drawl, looking bored.

Dom felt like cursing again. What was with this school and identification? He knew it was to keep the students safe, but dammit, he hadn't signed up for this type of work. "I forgot my ID card at home," he bit his lip, doing his best to look innocent and pleading. Mal had always been the better extractor down in the dreamscape, knowing just the right thing to say at just the right moment to get the information she desired. Dom had learned quite a bit from watching his talented wife work, but even though he was improving, he knew he would never rival her skill. And it was even more difficult in reality where he had no control of anything but his own body and voice to tell the story he wanted to be told. "Could I just pay you now and I'll bring my ID tomorrow?"

"No can do, sorry." She didn't sound very sorry. "Don't worry, man. There are plenty of copies. Just get your ID and pick up a copy tomorrow," she held out a hand expectantly, and Dom had no choice but to set the yearbook in her hand. He hadn't managed to go through the whole yearbook, but he doubted it would have been much use in the long run anyway.

Dom sighed and stepped away from the table, allowing more students behind him to step up to the table to get their own copies of the yearbook. He was debating on what to do next, whether he should continue looking around campus or if he should just head home for the day, when someone stepped out of the library building. Dom froze in place and pretended to be waiting for someone in line, hands in his jeans pockets as he watched his mark out of the corner of his eye. Arthur had stepped out of the library with a heavy-looking book bag slung over one shoulder, pausing for a long moment on the top step to readjust the bag's strap, and then wandered down the stairs.

Barely believing his luck, Dom stood by the yearbook table for another few seconds, earning a suspicious glance from the bubble gum girl who stole his lead for information. Paying her little attention, he waited just long enough to leave a comfortable space between him and his mark, and then began to follow Arthur. He wasn't sure where they were going as they stepped off the green lawn of campus and onto a busy sidewalk, but he didn't mind. The city pedestrians and traffic gave him ample cover to ensure Arthur didn't notice his continued presence, even if he did occasionally bump into other people rushing home after a busy work day.

He hoped desperately that Arthur was headed home, needing to know the address of the kid's place where they would be able to sedate him and take him down into the dream without gaining anyone's attention. Of course, if Arthur was headed somewhere else, Cobb knew enough from his forced research jobs to know how to trail someone and not make himself suspicious. If his mark stopped somewhere else, Dom would just wait the kid out. Arthur had to go home eventually.

Dom raised his gaze from the sidewalk again, wanting to make sure his mark wasn't getting too far ahead of him on the sidewalk. And then he paused mid-step, his heart clenched tightly in his chest. Where was Arthur? Dom had seen him about twenty steps ahead of him on the sidewalk just a few seconds before, walking at an unhurried pace. It seemed unlikely that Arthur would have reached the next intersection without Dom noticing – not at the pace he had been walking anyway. He glanced across the street as he stepped against the wall and out of the way of passing pedestrians. He scanned the length of the street on both sides. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, and there weren't any alleys the kid could have ducked into.

Trying to not let his frustration show on his face and in his body language, Dom spun on his heel and began walking slowly back up the street. He peered in through the glass windows of a cafe, a barber shop, and a local cobbler's store as subtly as he could manage, but didn't notice the shaggy black hair he was looking for. Eventually he was forced to give up and begin walking again, headed home. He decided he had suffered enough failure for one day.

#

His mark was really starting to frustrate him. It was almost humiliating how poorly Dom was at finding Arthur in town and on campus. Mal kept reminding him over the dinner table, voice soft and hand softer as it rested on his forearm comfortingly, that he was an Architect – the best Architect; this wasn't his forte. Dom knew this, knew he had been trained to create mazes to ensnare the subject's mind, rather than how to manoeuvre reality's mazes. But that didn't make him feel any less disappointed and angry. Keyes had given them a solid deadline, and he didn't strike Dom as the forgiving type.

Cobb had spent most of the next two days outside of the library, a book open in his lap to avoid suspicion. He turned the pages mechanically, never actually giving the words on the page more attention than a brief skim as he kept watching for his mark. He didn't attempt to get into the library again, not wanting to deal with the security and hoping he would see Arthur traveling through the entrance and exit. He could also see the yearbook table setting up again in the early afternoon but didn't bother, doubting it could help him further.

Unfortunately, Arthur never showed up on campus; or at least not where Dom was watching. He realized that this wasn't very surprising considering the fact that Arthur was graduated now, but it was still aggravating that he had so little background information to work with. He was wasting valuable time. Realizing this, and that the library was not a reliable location for finding Arthur, Dom decided to look into the other lead from Keyes the next day: Arthur's apparent favourite computer store.

It was about a ten minute walk from the campus, but closer to Dom's flat, so he managed to arrive before the store actually opened. It was a small location tucked neatly amongst a string of other stores along the street block, with fogged windows and unwelcoming iron wrought bars on the insides of the windows – barely visible. At first he was considering stepping into the store himself to wait for Arthur or try to gain some information, but decided against it. The only experience Cobb had with computers was the clunky machines he had seen from a distance with the military; he had been uninterested in purchasing his own, not to mention unable with his lack of funds. Beyond that, he knew that he couldn't stay in the store for eight straight hours waiting for Arthur to arrive, even if Cobb could keep up an intelligent conversation on the topic of computers – which he couldn't.

Instead, he ducked into a small cafe across and slightly down the street. He bought a steaming coffee and sticky pastry before snagging a table by the window that allowed him to look out and watch the computer store's doors. It was a dreary day outside, dark heavy clouds hanging low in the sky, threatening rain but continuing to be fickle. It must have been Dom's lucky day though, since he was only halfway through his first coffee when he noticed the messy black mop of hair bobbing amongst people rushing off to work. He wiped his fingers of the sticky residue of his pastry onto a napkin as he watched his mark duck into the computer store and continued sipping his coffee, unhurried.

He had to wait nearly an hour for Arthur to re-emerge from the computer shop, by which point the last few drops of coffee in his mug had grown cold. Dom pushed his chair away from his table and stood up quickly, ducking out of the cafe before he could lose sight of his mark again. Arthur was carrying a large and rather heavy looking bag slung over one shoulder, so Dom suspected that he would be headed directly home. Perfect.

Wanting to keep an eye on all of his surroundings this time, rather than just twenty steps in front of him, Cobb remained on the opposite of the street as he began trailing behind Arthur. He thanked his continued luck when he noticed the kid walking at a slower pace this time, seemingly distracted and weighed down by his package. Arthur also stood out quite noticeably amongst the crowd parting like a controlled sea to give him a wide berth. There was no way Cobb could lose him this time. No way at all.

Feeling his confidence rise with each of his steps on the concrete sidewalk, Dom closed some distance between him and Arthur until they were almost walking parallel along the street. He was just considering crossing the street to slip in behind Arthur when they both ran into a red light. And then, as though some god wished for him to complete this job and had finally decided to help out, Arthur turned on his heel and began crossing the street towards Cobb, surrounded by a small mob of pedestrians.

Dom forced himself into a bored, relaxed posture as he stared straight ahead, seemingly waiting for his light to turn green again. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his mark, looking more and more like a lost kid as he got closer. Arthur's gaze remained fixed straight ahead the entire time, stepping up onto the curb at the end of the pack of pedestrians, readjusting the bag's strap over his shoulder before continuing on down the street. Dom remained rooted in place as Arthur brushed by him, counted to ten in his head, and then turned to follow right before his light turned green.

Arthur was gone. Again.

#

Cobb wasn't a fan of reckless moves unless absolutely necessary; he liked to keep a low profile and not draw any attention to any sort of illegal activity, let alone himself. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He really had no idea how Arthur had managed to elude him again, especially with such a heavy looking box slowing him down. But once again, Arthur had seemed to simply disappear from the street entirely. There had been an alley near the crosswalk which Dom had inspected, but it had been a dead end with an eight-foot high chain link fence blocking him from the rest of the alley. He knew his mark probably couldn't get over it on a normal day, let alone with his package. The stores further down the street had not held the kid either, and Dom refused to loiter and draw attention.

Which brought him to his current situation, dressed in dark clothes as he slipped across the shadowed patches of campus and into the registrar's office. Security had been minimal and the locks child's play, and it wasn't long before Dom was kneeling down in front of the filing cabinet for students "T to Z". He applied his illegally obtained lock picks to the lock on the cabinet, giving it a hard jerk to overcome a small build up of rust. Then drawers of perfectly alphabetized files – all filled with more information than he could ever hope for – slid open for his viewing pleasure.

Feeling uneasy at the thought of breaking in, knowing there had to be some form of night security on the premises, Dom quickly riffled through the files until he found the "W" section. Walker, Tim. Wallman, Jenna. Walsh, Jacob. Webber, Maria. Wittermore, Laura...Wait. Where was "Wells"? His heart rate was picking up as he checked over the row of files again, making sure there hadn't been two folders accidentally stuck together. Then he went through the rest of the cabinet, fingers shaking with nerves, for the misplaced folder.

It was with a whispered curse that Dom shoved the filing cabinet drawers closed again, relocking it with movements made jerky with anger. He considered looking through the other cabinets before leaving, but doubted it would yield any results; there had been no other filing mistakes amongst the student files. It was simply the case that there was no longer any file for Wells, Arthur.

#

"This kid is going to be the death of me, Mal," Dom confessed to his palms as he groaned into his hands. "This is fucking ridiculous. He's still stumbling his way out of puberty; he shouldn't be this damned hard to get information on! He's like a fucking ghost!"

Mal brushed a hand soothingly over Dom's shoulders before handing him a glass of red wine. "I'd assist you if I could," she murmured softly before sipping her own glass of wine.

"I know," Dom sighed, nursing his own glass of wine. Mal would probably have better luck gaining the information, being the best Extractor Dom had ever met, but they couldn't risk it. Generally they made sure that the mark never knew Mal before then went down into a dream to steal information. If the mark recognized and remembered recently meeting her before the dream, it was more likely that they would become suspicious and more aware of their surroundings.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, dinner heating up in the oven. "I think we'll need to push this one, Dom," Mal suggested calmly, watching him for a reaction. "I'd like to be away from Keyes as soon as possible."

"Yeah," he nodded, staring down into his glass. "You're right. It's time to take a more aggressive approach." Dom downed the rest of his wine, not appreciating the taste nearly enough.

#

It wasn't easy to research computers, considering the fact that Dom had little personal experience with them. It didn't help that the technology seemed to be continuously progressing, two new models of any particular piece of technology being developed before someone could write information down about previous versions. However, it proved to be easier studying general computer technology and usage in the city's public library than trying to find information on the ghost that was his mark.

By mid afternoon, Dom was making his way towards the computer store with what he hoped was enough computer knowledge to bluff his way through the upcoming encounter. He pushed open the heavy door to the store open, hearing a tiny bell chime above him as he stepped inside. The small store was brightly lit and entirely empty, except for the thin shop clerk with glasses that kept sliding down his nose. "Can I help you?" the man asked Dom carefully, looking like he was nervous around strangers but trying to hide it.

"Yes, actually," Dom flashed the friendliest smile he could manage, relaxing his posture in an attempt to express comfort and ease. The shop owner wouldn't be much help if he was too scared to listen to Cobb's lies. "It's a bit of a silly situation, but I have a delivery to make but don't know the address of the buyer."

"I'm not sure how I can help..." the store owner frowned in confusion, shoving the brass frame of his glasses back up his nose.

"Well, I got a call a few weeks back from someone named Arthur Wells." Dom noted the other man tensing slightly. "He wanted to purchase a new motherboard my boss's company was developing-" it was always easier to explain misunderstandings and lack of knowledge when you weren't in charge – "but just gave this as the address for pick-up."

"Oh, well I, uh..." Dom was scrutinized with narrowed eyes for a moment. "I guess I can take it and hold onto it for him. He usually comes in at least once a week."

"No, no, you see..." Dom bit his lip in an exaggerated motion, purposefully looking nervous now. "My employer will murder me if I don't deliver the package personally. Company policy," he waved his hand as though waving away unspoken questions. "So I was wondering if I could get Mr. Well's address."

"Um...sure," the store owner paused and then nodded, reaching below the desk to pull out a heavy looking binder of sheets of paper.

Dom was about to ask if the man was kidding, barely comprehending the fact that this was going as easily as it was. This had to be a trap, didn't it? It couldn't go this well. He had been half prepared to use the gun hidden in the waistband of his jeans, refusing to leave without his mark's address. But as he watched and cautiously shuffled closer to the front desk, he could see that the shop owner was scrawling out an address on a spare slip of paper in messy but legible writing. "I...I really appreciate this," he allowed his relief to seep into his voice, still playing the nervous delivery boy.

"Anytime," the man behind the counter actually smiled at Dom as he handed over the slip of paper. "Is there anything else I could do for you?" Cobb was about to refuse and leave before his good fortune ran out, but the man continued to speak. "You're not from around here, are you? Here, take this city map. It'll save you the trouble of walking across town to the tourist office."

The urge to pull his gun was growing, even as the smile on his face genuinely widened. Dom was used to team members turning on him, on the military changing plans without telling him, on dreams becoming a confusing maze even for the dreamers and the marks becoming aware and tearing him to shreds. Dom was not accustomed to things going according to plan. And yet...by some strange miracle, they were. So when the slip of paper and the folded map was in his hand, the address looked legitimate, and no one burst in holding guns, Dom thanked the shop owner and made a hasty retreat for the exit.

Even when he made it back outside the store and halfway down the street, no pedestrians on the sidewalk paid him any attention, and no one looked like they were about to pull out a gun. Dom knew this probably wasn't a healthy way to be, but when things always went wrong, you learned to be aware and prepare for every potential issue. He only allowed his guard to fall slightly when he had found the written-down address on the city map and neared his target after about twenty minutes of walking. He would still need to be cautious in case the address was a fake and this was a trap, but Cobb seemed to be mostly in the clear.

That was when things went terribly wrong.

Dom had just wandered past the alley he had seen the day before with the high chain link fence, making him believe that Arthur really was just a sneaky bastard. Cobb had been so close to finding his mark's apartment, based on the map informing him that he was just one side-street and an alley away from his destination. He continued walking along the sidewalk until he found the labelled side street and turned down it, slowing his pace. He brushed the heel of his palm against the butt of his gun, desiring its reassuring press as he found the shaded alleyway that his mark's apartment was supposed to be on.

The alley looked relatively well maintained, the pavement clear of everything but a few trash cans sitting by peoples' doors. It was only wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder, but it felt oddly quaint; he could see that a few people had laundry lines or flower baskets strung up between the buildings. Seeing no spectators or threats, Dom steeled himself and stepped off the populated sidewalk, feeling his heart beating in his chest with nerves and anticipation.

He only made it about twenty steps down the alleyway when he suddenly felt the biting cold metal of a gun's barrel pressed against the back of his neck. A second later, before Dom could do anything more than automatically flinch towards his gun, his jacket had been roughly shoved aside and his gun stolen. Dom bit his lip and mentally cursed, wondering if he'd be able to spin and get the guns out of his attacker's hands before they could retaliate. It seemed unlikely.

Instead, he kicked his foot back, trying to unbalance the other person. All he got for his efforts was to be tripped up himself, pushed against the alley wall. He could feel the side of one gun against his back where he was being held, while the other gun returned to pointing at the base of his skull. "That wasn't a smart move." The voice behind him was low and smooth, some peculiar mix of angry and distant.

"Who are you?" Dom snapped, his cheek and lips scraping against the brick wall.

A cold, humourless chuckle wrapped around him then, causing Dom to shiver. "You should know who I am, Mr. Cobb. You have been tracking me for almost a week, haven't you?"

Arthur! Dom's whole body tensed up with this realization – the fact that his mark had him at gunpoint in an alley where no one would look for him, and who knew Dom's name. There was a heavy weight of dread in his stomach, making him feel sick and wishing vehemently that this was a dream. This wasn't though, because he remembered how he got here, and he couldn't change the architecture when he focused. "I—what?" he hoped playing dumb would get him out of this alive, though with the fact that Arthur already seemed too knowledgeable, he doubted this would end well.

Another chuckle. Another shiver. "You mean to tell me, Dominic Cobb, that you are not the moron who has been blundering around town this last week trying to collect information on me? And failing, I might add?" Arthur clicked his tongue behind him in a disdainful way. "That you did not move here with your new wife, Mallorie Cobb, to take this specific job for Marshall Keyes?"

"No, no, I-" A million lies flitted through Dom's brain, but none seemed adequate. They would probably just piss off his mark more.

"Please, Mr. Cobb," Arthur drawled, somehow managing to sound bored. Like he didn't even really care that Dom had been tracking him and had nearly made it to his apartment. Like this was just a blip on the radar, soon to be extinguished. Dom swallowed thickly. "Don't insult me by assuming I am easily fooled. After all, you wouldn't have even made it this far if I hadn't allowed you to collect the right information."

"What do you mean?" Dom asked, confusion flowing into curiosity, even as his blood turned to ice in fear of what his mark would do to him once this conversation ended.

"Do you really think I would destroy my student file and yet not keep the computer store clerk from giving out my address?" Dom could hear the smug smirk in Arthur's tone.

"You told him to give me your address?" he reiterated, barely believing what he was hearing.

"Unfortunately for you, I was growing bored of leading you on this merry chase." The gun's barrel slid downward slightly, resting between Dom's tense shoulder blades. "You were fumbling around like a child just learning to walk," his mark insulted, and Dom did his best to keep from snapping back to save his pride. "Keyes was planning to have you killed next week if you didn't deliver."

"How-?" Dom began to ask, and then cut himself off; if Arthur was capable enough at collecting information on him, then it made sense that he would be able to keep tabs on the man trying to get him killed. "Why not just let him kill me then?" he asked instead.

Arthur spun him around suddenly, forcing Dom to flatten himself back against the wall again when the gun was pointed at his heart. "Because then he'd just send someone more competent, and I need some information from you on Keyes."

Dom took a moment to study his mark up close. Arthur looked scary with his gun, Dom's shoved under his waistband hastily; Arthur was calm and confident. At the same time, however, there was something in the kid's eyes that spoke of an internal conflict. It looked as though part of Arthur was ready to fight to the bitter end, and the other half looked tempted to give up on the spot. There was a heaviness to Arthur in the way his shoulders hunched and in the dark smudges under his dark eyes. It seemed unnatural and sad in a kid this age, and even though Dom was still very aware of the gun pressed against his breastbone, he felt an unwanted stirring of sympathy.

Apparently he was staring too long to suit Arthur, who pressed the gun against him hard enough to bruise before motioning further into the alley. "After you. I trust you at least know the address for my apartment."

"All thanks to you," Dom retaliated with a glare before dragging himself from the brick wall. He hated the feeling of someone walking behind him with a gun; he felt as though he was being led to his death – which he probably was. He considered fighting back again, his mark still younger and smaller than him in general. But with Arthur possessing two guns, and Dom with none, he wasn't going to risk pissing off his mark more quite yet.

They continued walking down the alley until it was nearly as dark as twilight, the walls high and blocking out any hope of much sunlight. Arthur kept his gun trained on Dom even as he slid a set of keys from a pocket and began undoing the multiple locks on the door in front of them. Once the door swung in, Arthur motioned Dom inside, staying at his back with the gun. With few options, Dom stepped through the doorframe and into a spotless, simple living room.

He heard the door close behind him and Arthur take a few steps into the house, and then the telltale smack of metal hitting skin and bone and a dull thud. Dom turned, heart trying to beat out of his chest, to see Mal standing over an unconscious Arthur, gun in hand. "I'm so glad you made it here first," Dom let out a loud sigh of relief, scrambling to steal both guns from his mark before Arthur woke up. He had called Mal from a payphone the moment he had gotten the address, but hadn't known which of them would make it to the mark's apartment first.

"Yes," Mal pursed her lips, agitated in the way her body stood tense, but trying to hide it. "I am also very glad, mon cher."

They shared a quick, relieving kiss, before slipping back into the mindset of work. "Let's get this job done with already."

#

"It was really easy, actually," Arthur shrugged lightly, leaning back against the Yale library armchair. Dom and Mal nodded in clear interest, playing on the desire for approval that had only manifested in their mark once Arthur's defences were down. "All you really need to do is understand people; then you can figure out how they're likely to store and hide their information. That and get information from people without them realizing. And you need to know the best method for how to get the actual information, of course," their mark smirked proudly. "Libraries, offices, and now these new computers are absolutely wonderful."

"That's amazing," Mal smiled across the small coffee table at Arthur brightly, the smile Dom knew could make you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered. Arthur blushed lightly and glanced away. "So what did you learn?"

"Everything I was paid to find out," Arthur assured them with another smirk. "And then some. I got a lot of personal information on Mr. Johnson in order to figure out how to get the information. And then I got all of the information needed to get into his computer system and got the blueprints for the new hard drive his company is developing."

"Can you give us the details?" Mal asked curiously, eyes wide and bright as she continued to focus on their mark. Dom also watched Arthur, but for a different reason. He couldn't help but wish he had had Arthur on his side when trying to collect information, the kid a clear prodigy in the art. And at the same time, his curiosity and sympathy was continuing to grow; it seemed evident that Arthur was weighed down by something. He seemed to be running forward at full speed while fighting the urge to look back over his shoulder.

"No need," Arthur waved off Mal's question, "I have it all written out back at my apartment; I haven't shredded it yet. I'll show you..." Dom's attention returned solely to the current moment when Arthur's voice trailed off. Cobb glanced around in confusion for the distracter and saw a small girl, maybe ten years old, standing a few steps away and staring at them. Dom glanced between Arthur, who was staring at her, and the girl, who waved before smiling and skipping away. The next moment, Arthur was whirling on them, snarling. "What the hell is this?"

"What do you-?" Mal began in a soothing voice, faking her confusion. But before she could even finisher her question, Dom felt a painful tug on his mind, like someone had pulled an elastic band taut and let it fly against every synapses in his brain.

His eyes were watering with pain as he watched Arthur stand up hurriedly, face sickly white and eyes wide with fright and fury. "This isn't reality!" he yelled at both of them, tall bookshelves behind him shuddering and toppling over. Projections screamed in terror as they dodged the falling books and ran for the exits. Not that it did them any good. As his brain continued to flare with pain, Dom could see staircases and hallways turning into loops, all leading back to the same point. "What is this?"

When neither of them gave an answer – neither of them even knowing what to say – Arthur began to stumble backwards towards an exit. Dom couldn't help but groan and clutch his head when another bright flash of pain, as searing as lightning, shot through his body. The dreamscape went blank for a moment, like a whiteboard wiped clean, and then he, Mal, and Arthur were standing on the bank of a small man-made lake under a bright full moon. He fell to his knees, unable to support himself through the pain as Arthur seemingly took control over the dream's architecture.

Luckily, Mal was mostly unaffected by the sudden shift and was able to shoot Arthur in the back of the head when the kid began to run away from the lake. Dom swallowed hard as he watched his mark crumple to the lush green grass, and then gave a sigh of relief when Mal kissed his forehead before shooting him – freeing him from this pain.

He took a minute to blink his eyes open, allowing the pain to fade into the back of his mind as a dull throb. They were back in Arthur's apartment, and even with his eyes closed, Dom could hear weak struggling and then a defeated sigh. He heard the dream device being packed up and then felt a soft hand on his cheek. He forced his eyes open, seeing Mal's beautiful face watching him with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked him, brushing some hair aside. "What happened?"

"He took control of the dream," he explained in a daze, barely able to understand it himself. He had seen marks panic and upset the dream before, causing things to break or topple. But never before had he seen a mark gain enough control to completely change the dreamscape – and Dom knew he was not responsible for that mysterious lake. "I'll be fine," he assured her with a small smile. Then he pushed himself out of his chair to confront their mark.

Oddly, Arthur did not seem nearly as panicked now has he had been in the dream. He watched Dom approach with eyes that seemed even duller than they had twenty minutes ago in the alley. Cobb's gun was visible in his waistband, and he knew Arthur saw it, but it was Dom who was scared. Arthur didn't look concerned at all; he looked relieved. "I knew Keyes would come for me," Arthur whispered, eyes staring blankly at the gun for a moment before falling to the floor. "I didn't care. I don't care. You might as well kill me now; he'll send someone else if you don't."

A heavy silence filled the room, and Dom felt an uninvited chill crawl up his spine. What could have happened in Arthur's brief twenty years of life to turn him into this hollow, empty shell? Curiosity and sympathy fought for dominance in his mind as Arthur bowed his head to the floor, patiently awaiting his death. Dom glanced over at Mal, seeing her nod at the question on his face. He swallowed again, stepping closer to his tied-up mark. "Arthur, you were right before. It wasn't reality."

He saw Arthur's head twitch up in curiosity before falling again, either uncaring of the answer or unwilling to allow himself to care. Mal stepped forward then, gliding across the bare floors to kneel by Arthur. She placed a calm hand on his knee, kneeling right where Arthur couldn't look away. "We control dreams, Arthur," she explained softly, her voice as smooth as honey as she tried to woo Arthur out of this terrible state. "We can create anything and everything we wish, and steal information from people," she said the second part with some regret in her tone. "But we are long overdue for a new team member. We need someone with your skills at collecting information so we can prepare before a job."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked tiredly. "Why are you even telling me this?"

"Run point for us, Arthur," Dom requested in a rush. He had no plan in mind as he spoke; he was just scared of losing Arthur to pure hopelessness. "Research our marks the way you researched me. Collect information to determine the best methods for cornering a mark and stealing information from them."

"Run point..." Arthur whispered, tasting each word curiously, "Be a point man?" he tested.

"I uh..." Mal glanced up at him and Dom shrugged; it seemed to fit. It felt...right. "Yeah. Be our Point Man."

Dom took a nervous step back when Arthur suddenly lifted his head and their eyes met across the short distance between them. There was something far too serious, too haunting in those brown eyes. "Why do you think I'd want to join your little team and do that?" the youth asked darkly, a bite in his voice like a wild animal feeling cornered.

"I think you need the dreamscape," Dom answered honestly, even though he couldn't begin to guess or comprehend what had brought Arthur to this point. "I think you need something to focus on, something to always keep you challenged and constantly allow you to build and expand."

"Somewhere where there are no rules," Mal chimed in.

"You need a different reality to adopt, because you don't seem all that keen on this one, and yet you haven't made the effort to leave it," Dom added. He still barely knew what he was saying, only working with what he saw in the kid's hunched shoulders and listless eyes. Arthur's gaze was still trained on him, unwavering.

A few minutes passed, and no one said anything. "Arthur?" Mal questioned again. Arthur didn't even blink at her. Dom watched her pull herself to her feet and step away to collect the folders of information Keyes had hired them for. They weren't leaving empty handed.

"What makes you think you can trust me?" Arthur asked him when they were alone, still seeming quite unbothered by the rope binding him to the chair.

Dom shrugged uncomfortably, still barely understanding his decision to make this offer in the first place. It was true that they needed another team member, someone to focus on information gathering and running point on their future jobs so that disasters like this one wouldn't happen. But Arthur was right; there was no way Dom could trust him to stay with them, let alone not kill them in their sleep for hunting him, or sell their secrets. "I don't," he admitted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mal motion at him, indicating that she had the folders. "But I hope I can. If you want to work with us, meet us on the train leaving for New York tonight at eight," he explained as he pulled a pocket knife from his pants to cut the bonds on Arthur's wrists.

"And make a totem," Mal added as she breezed by, picking up the dream device in one hand while the briefcase of information swung in her opposite hand. "I hope to see you again soon, Arthur," she said her farewell before slipping out into the alleyway.

He could see the question in Arthur's eyes, and Dom felt a flash of hope. If he could just capture this youth's attention, give him something to work towards and fight for, maybe that hollow look would fade away. "It's something unique that only you can recognize. It helps you tell the difference between dreams and reality so you don't get lost in fantasy." Arthur didn't move to get out of the chair when the rope was gone, and Dom bit back a frustrated sigh. He didn't even know why he cared so much, but at this point there was nothing more he could do. "Keyes will have the information in three hours. He'll probably send someone else shortly after that. I hope to see you again, Arthur," he offered.

When he didn't receive a response, Dom slipped out of the apartment and into the alley without another word.

#

Keyes had gotten his information. Dom and Mal had gotten a very substantial sum of money; enough to give them more freedom of choice in terms of employers and jobs. They hadn't seen or heard mention of Arthur, even though they knew he knew where they were staying, so they were forced to travel to the train station alone. It was disappointing, and he felt a little sick at the thought of Keyes sending someone else after Arthur, but Dom forced those thoughts aside.

The sun was edging towards the horizon when they bought their tickets and climbed onto the train. The concrete train platform had weak, flickering lamps fighting off the evening's shadows. Unfortunately, that was all there was to see as Dom watched it fall away into the distance as the train pulled out of the station and headed on its voyage. Mal was sitting on the seat across from him, the two chairs beside them both empty.

No Arthur.

"We tried, mon cher," Mal whispered sadly before turning her gaze outward to the passing scenery. He could see that she was just as upset as he was, her jaw tight and eyes shadowed. But she was right; they had tried. It hadn't been enough. Or maybe Keyes had been anxious and got to Arthur before the kid could make a decision.

The sound of a throat being cleared caught his attention, and Dom's gaze flickered up tiredly. He had been expecting the train conductor looking for tickets, so when he saw Arthur slipping down into the chair beside him, Dom had to physically force himself down from hugging the boy. "You made it," he spoke quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of other passengers. He knew his voice betrayed his relief and happiness, but he didn't care.

"I've met highschoolers who are better researchers than the two of you," Arthur snipped as he slid a duffle bag beneath his seat.

Arthur's tone was sharp, and Dom wasn't sure if he was joking or not. He didn't care; he laughed anyway. "Welcome to the team," he murmured with a small smile.

"Did you bring a totem?" Mal asked curiously, a beautiful smile curling her lips now that she had turned from the passing fields of green to consider their newest team member. Oddly, Dom felt as though he and Mal were welcoming their son home from a long hard year of school, asking for the report card to see how he had faired.

Arthur looked between them for a moment, considering them, and then slipped a clear red die from the breast pocket of his wrinkled button-up shirt. The die caught the dying rays of the sunset, the material looking like glass stained with blood. "Any particular significance?" he asked curiously. There was so much to learn about Arthur, their newest team member, but a person's totem always seemed especially interesting to him.

Arthur twirled the die around between his fingers for a few seconds before holding it still between his thumb and pointer finger. He was staring at it like the little white dots held all the secrets, like every answer was trapped between six sides of glimmering red. There was the tinniest of smiles on Arthur's face, something that could be easily overlooked if you didn't think to look. What struck Dom was how incredibly sad the smile was. And then Arthur slid the die back into his pocket, resting a hand over his chest for a moment to feel it pressed against his skin before his hand dropped back to his lap. "It belonged to my other half."