Reversal
Miles wasted no time getting on the phone. His fingers deftly dialed the numbers of Cobb's inception team; he exhibited surprising dexterity for his age.
The reactions he'd got were varied: Eames had cursed a bit at him, for it was late; Ariadne, also awakened, had uttered sentences punctuated by yawns. Yusuf, in Mombasa, was wide awake and conversationally unremarkable. And Arthur took the news in his impeccably professional manner.
Miles only said two things to them: "Come to Paris straightaway. There is something wrong with my son-in-law, and as a result you are involved, too."
The reactions to that were all identical.
Miles lingered on the phone with Arthur, having called the others first. Arthur had asked Miles no questions- in fact, he was about to hang up, when Miles stopped him.
"Arthur, wait."
Arthur kept the phone to his ear.
"I'm going to need you to call your sister," said Miles.
"My siste- Adrian?" said Arthur brusquely.
"Yes. She's going to be invaluable to us," Miles replied.
"W- we..." Arthur stammered. He paused. "We haven't spoken in years."
Arthur's apprehension poured over the phone and pooled in Miles' ear.
"That won't be a problem, will it?" Miles asked wryly.
Arthur was silent on the other line.
"...I don't even know where she is," he lied.
"We both know that's not true," said Miles.
Arthur sighed. "All right."
"How soon can she be in Paris?" Miles inquired.
Arthur gave a huff of laughter.
"Knowing her, three days. At most," he said.
"Arthur?" Miles hesitated. "...Will there be a... problem?"
"No." The word dropped into Miles' ear like a stone.
"All right," said Miles dubiously.
"Good night, Miles," said Arthur coldly, closing the conversation.
"Good night," answered Miles. "And, Arthur?"
Arthur's silence permitted him to speak.
"Thank you," said Miles.
They hung up.
The team assembled in Miles' classroom three days after the phone call. Greetings were tersely exchanged in order to kill time- Miles wouldn't tell them what was happening until they had all assembled.
Arthur had been the first to arrive.
His stiff pleasantries had cut off abruptly as he became aware of a figure that appeared at the classroom door. It was a woman, wearing a black overcoat and carrying a messenger bag slung over her chest from her left shoulder. She had deep brown hair that reached her shoulders- her face was nearly identical to Arthur's. Her long, lithe thumbs were hooked in the pockets of her coat.
She descended to Miles' desk and approached Arthur.
They stared at each other for some time, a nearly perfect mirror image, before she broke the silence.
"...Art?" she asked.
"...Adri?" he queried in reply.
They did not embrace.