A/N: Based on a prompt I'd found a couple years ago, I believe on the Inception Kink forum, that focused on Cobb's life after the Inception, Phillipa's reaction of Mal's suicide, and Cobb's subsequent spiral downward into depression. I've been writing this for a while now, off and on, so I'm happy to start posting this. Please enjoy...

Fault

"You don't seem to understand, Dominick. I know-"

"Marie, don't take them away." Cobb's grip tightened on the cellphone pressed to his ear. "They're my kids. My kids."

His entire life. While those specific words didn't pass over his lips, his mother-in-law certainly heard them in his voice. James and Phillipa were two big reasons to get out of bed in the morning. He closed his eyes like he was shielding his gaze from an active battlefield.

"Weren't you fired?" asked the thickly-accented voice of the French woman. "From that sales job?"

"I'm in between work, yes. And I left on my own free will," Cobb confirmed. "I'm trying to find a—"

"Don't try to find a job. Get a job."

Indignation heated Cobb's cheeks and chest. The fingers of his free hand curled and uncurled as he carefully shaped his words. "I've got a few good interviews lined up. They're very promising. I am doing my best— the kids want for nothing… Being out of work doesn't mean I stop providing for them. I don't understand. Why are you suddenly so eager to take my children? This is—I love them, and I worked very hard to clear my name—"

"I still do not understand how."

"And I've worked hard since I've been home, regardless," Cobb continued. "There wasn't a day I didn't think of them. You know that. I appreciate that you cared for them while I was gone, but this is my time. I want to move on, but you are getting in the way of that."

Marie was quiet. No matter what, Cobb could never make up for Mal. Then Marie said, "Phillipa called me. She wants to live with me. She wants James to come with her."

Cobb's eyes widened. "W-what? Since when?"

"Last week. I gave Phillipa two days to think about her request and she remains resolute. Apparently your home isn't the environment they need."

Cobb's mouth opened and Marie's words rushed over the line.

"You are as unfit a father as you were a husband. Stephen was just as worthless, and he's equally to blame, so don't look to him for help." Her voice cracked a little but regained its strength. "I am gathering paperwork, just so you know, if you fight this. I suggest you get the children's things in order."

"Marie, I— Hello? Hello?"

The line went dead.

Cobb flung the phone across his bedroom. It bounced off the taupe-colored wall and left a scuff mark and a dent. He was alone in the house, so nobody heard the racket or his cursing. He dropped down on the bed, his head in his palms.

I'm losing them… It had been asinine to cling to the idealist dreams that he'd held to every night before falling asleep in some strange hotel in a foreign country.

His first few months home had been bliss. He'd relearned to parent after living on the lam, and had learned to manage a household without Mal. He'd relearned the children's habits and likes and dislikes. The first year back had been full of adjustments, and the following years had been good, but eventually he realized that life would never be same. This was post-Mal life no matter how he tried to pretend it wasn't.

After five years, his dreamshare money started to run its course, and life quickly crumpled into a caricature. Cobb gave up his role as a stay at home father and found a job as a sales manager to rebuild his savings—with the slow economy, he'd been unable to find a position in architecture. To earn side money, he'd also played in the market, investing in various corporations. Cobb did well, well enough to quit his day job, but his bank accounts suffered greatly after several risky business deals and another downturn in the economy. To put less of the strain on himself, Cobb had moved the family into a more modest house, leaving the home that he and Mal had bought together. He and the kids had now lived in the new house for several months.

Cobb's palms and fingers came to a point at his nose and he breathed out through the bony, fleshed appendages. His eyes flicked over to the clock on the bedside table. He cursed under his breath.

He was late to pick up the kids from school.