He always spun his top when he was having trouble distinguishing dreams, his more often than not all-too-realistic dreams, from reality. If it toppled over, he knew he was awake and alright. If it continued to spin, he knew he needed to be careful. He was always trying desperately to avoid becoming like Mal and falling prey to even his most wonderful dreams.

Ariadne was the only one who was ever able to figure it, and him, out. Eames and Arthur passed it off as nothing but one of those superstitious "good luck" routines, but not Ariadne. Ever since she had seen his memories he kept hidden away from the world, and been told exactly what all had happened, she could see how hard he worked to retain control of his own life and mind. Sometimes if she paid attention, she would notice he hadn't performed his "test" yet and would discreetly remind him.

Ariadne never told anyone else about it, and for that he was grateful. It was too complicated for even him to understand sometimes, let alone trying to explain it to another person. To try to analyze Dom Cobb, to attempt to figure out why he was the way he was and what exactly made him tick, was like trying to calculate the last place of pi; no matter how hard one tried, it just wasn't going to happen.

The top was just another of his idiosyncracies that was left a mystery to most. But it made perfect sense to him. As time passed and jobs came and went, it became very simple to him. Still top, good. Spinning top, bad. Which was why he was so worried when he finally got home to Phillipa and James. The top did not fall onto its side on the desk.

He had known his chances of finding Saito and getting them both back in time were slim, but he hadn't prepared himself for this. He hadn't truly expected to fail. He couldn't believe that he had missed every single kick; all four of them. Part of him was relieved. Relieved to finally be in one place and know for sure, either way, whether it was dream or reality. Yet, another part of him was extremely upset. These were not his children. Not really. They were only his projections of them, and that was all they would ever be.

Everything and everyone in this limbo, this new limbo for him, was just his subconscious building a place where he would be comfortable. His friends, projections, all visited. Even his father and Saito came by from time to time. He would take walks with Ariadne, Phillipa and James. He, Arthur, and Eames would play cards and talk about jobs they had pulled together in the past. Everything seemed normal, except for one thing. Mal never made any appearances. He was pretty sure he was glad for that.

The longer he stayed in limbo, the happier he became. However, he made sure to remind himself everyday, in one way or another, that this life he was living now was not reality. As comfortable as he got with his projections of everything and everyone, he did want to wake up one day and return to the real thing.

Until that moment came, though, all he could do was hope. Hope and wait for the second the spinning top stopped.

End.

A/N: Confused? I must admit, so am I. Which is sad, considering I wrote it. Sorry. This whole idea sounded a lot better in my head, but it wouldn't shut up until I wrote it down. Haha. Anyway, thanks for reading this short little thing, and...yeah. That's pretty much it. Have a good one.

Thanks,

Lizzie