Dom is born into the world on a rocky beach, gasping and struggling through the breakers. The police are chasing him, have chased him right out of the US. He needs a friend.
Arthur is there, waiting for him. "You look like you swallowed half the ocean," he says. Dom hacks up more water and takes the towel Arthur offers. Through the shivers he briskly rubs his head dry, and then combs his hair back into a semblance of order. He changes on the beach, shedding the clothes from his old life right there and dressing himself in a new suit.
When he's done, he goes to where Arthur is standing, surveying the ocean from an outcropping of rock. "I need to get back to my children," he says.
Arthur leads him towards a waiting car and they get in. "We're going to need funds," Arthur says.
Arthur is propped against a counter, wheezing for breath as he doggedly fires clip after clip over his head. Dom pops up to supplement Arthur's blind shooting with a few aimed shots of his own, then crouches back down again. Arthur rolls his head to look at him, ignorant of the trickle of blood dripping down his chin. "Cobb," he rasps. "Go."
All he has to do is make it to the ocean. They're dockside; it's just a few hundred yards away. But Arthur – Dom does not want to leave him behind.
Arthur coughs stiltedly, and the gun he is reloading fumbles from his grasp. Dom fires a few more shots to keep their opponents from thinking they've run out of ammo. When he ducks back under cover Arthur is loosely cradling the gun in his lap as he watches Dom. "I'm not moving," he says, voice weak. It's hideously un-Arthur like. "Can't. You go."
Dom looks towards the ocean before turning once more towards their pursuers, greater in number and all unharmed. Arthur's hand latches onto his arm, convulsing once in a show of willpower before loosening so much it's like his hand is only resting in the crook of Dom's arm. "Go!" he says, and then coughs from the effort. More blood dribbles out of his mouth.
Dom goes.
He runs for the ocean, dodging a few stray bullets. Most of the hostiles remain eerily fixated on Arthur. It roars loudly in his ears as he dives under the waves, striking out for the bottom. It's mid-April and the waters are still freezing. His clothes quickly become saturated and drag him down faster. His lungs burn, his feet loose feeling, his arms become too heavy to move. He sinks downwards, lungs burning, knowing that there is an escape here if only he can hold on a little longer –
Dom rockets out of the lake with a great gasp of air. His lungs burn, and Dom looks back to measure his achievement. Today he swam nearly three fourths of the width on a single breath.
He walks back to his house, towels himself dry, and smiles when he sees James and Philippa playing in the yard. He thinks of calling out to them to see their faces.
"Dom," someone says urgently behind him. "It's now or never. You have to make a decision."
