Chapter 3: The Job

"Time really does fly when you're in the dream world, doesn't it?" Arthur heard Eames voice drift through his mind. Yes it did, Arthur thought miserably, crushing the points of his fingers into his eyes, rubbing away the remaining sleep that lingered in his brain. He felt utterly exhausted. The job he had taken three months ago was beginning to grind away his last shred of tolerance.

He fumbled with his hotel key card.

The team he got stuck with were novices at best. They had the same skill-set of bumbling kids trying to crack open a cookie jar. Except Arthur had the feeling that actual kids had a better shot at this cookie jar than the team.

Arthur had been pulling double duty too. Taking over positions of fellow team-members who couldn't pull their weight. If it were up to Arthur, he would have sent them packing ages ago. But he wasn't the leader. Just the point man. The organizer- the resilient and reliable one.

The team was led by some hot-shot thief from New York named Nick Holden. His only skills were conning and stealing, other than that, Holden was no good in the dream world. He lacked leadership and imagination. Arthur had never truly realized how crucial those elements were in devising a plan to steal something from one's subconscious mind, now he only wished he possessed those qualities. So he was stuck with the wonder-team from hell and his job was keeping it organized enough to pop this cookie jar without shattering it all over the table.

He should've said no, he thought dully, as he ran a careless hand through his thick, slicked black hair. Arthur slid the cardkey through the lock and it beeped him inside.

He sighed, realizing then should've said no that night at his condo, with Eames only feet away from him. He should've stayed. Arthur shook his head in disgust at the thought. Eames wouldn't have stayed with him. They both knew what they were getting into that night they screwed.

No attachments, no emotions. Just pleasure. One night. Final.

Except Arthur hadn't walked away as unshaken as he had hoped.

It had been three long months since he last saw Mr. Eames yet his taunting smile and husky purr followed him everywhere. Especially now when all he wanted to do was work with real God damn professionals.

He shook his head, trying to push thoughts of Eames aside. He walked past the mirror on the vanity as he headed to the closet. He stilled when his reflection shot back at him. Turning on his heel, he stood in front of the mirror and let out a long winded sigh. He looked like shit. His suit was rumpled, his hair was a disaster, and dark ugly bags hung under his weary eyes.

Arthur grimaced. How did he let it get this far? He made a quick attempt at flattening and re-shaping his hair. He pulled the lapels down of his suit and sleeves, hoping to ease some of the wrinkles that had bunched up. Arthur didn't bother with the bags under his eyes. It would've been pointless trying to fix that.

Suddenly Arthur had an epiphany. He didn't need this. He didn't need this job at all. It was working him down the very bone, exhausting him to the point of no return. He had money saved and didn't have to stick around for a job he was clearly not getting the better end of. He gritted his teeth determinedly and pulled out his suitcase. Enough was enough. Time to go home, he thought with finality. He wanted to go home.

After several minutes of quick packing, he finished. Arthur cleared his throat and pursed his lips at his reflection. He would have killed for an extra few hours of rest. Maybe stay one more night in his hotel room. No, he interrupted his own thought. He couldn't stay another night. He had to go before he second guessed his decision.

Arthur heard Eames husky drawl in his mind, 'there is no rest for the wicked, darling…'

Minutes later, the point-man strolled through the lobby, bag in hand and his passport in his pocket. By this time tomorrow he would be back in the states. He would be back at home and sleep until he was fully restored to his normal self.

Eames fluttered through his mind in that moment. Arthur pushed it aside. Eames wouldn't want to see him. Whatever relationship that had, finished the night Eames walked out on him. Sure Arthur might have said a few harsh words to entice his leaving but still, they weren't meant to be together. Eames was too smug and bull-headed. Arthur was too ridge and smart to let a man like him into his life.

The hotel doors opened into the night air of Prague. He inhaled sharply, letting the cold icy air fill his lungs. It was freezing but all Arthur could feel was a sense of freedom.

Time to finally go home, he thought happily.


Eames's gaze traveled to a rather attractive young man at the end of the bar. He smiled lightly when the young man's eyes finally reached him. Eames's winked. The young man smiled abashedly at first, then returned the smile. Gotcha, Eames thought arrogantly.

He needed a night of debauchery and sinfully hot sex that would make nuns weep. Anything to get his mind off the fact that he was still without a forging job, running low on funds, in debt up to his ears and longing for someone who wanted nothing to do with him. Arthur.

The point-man had irritated his thoughts constantly since their torridly hot night of passion that ended up making Eames cum magnificently and want to do it again and again and again. Problem was, it was only with Arthur he wanted to do the nasty with since that night. However, Arthur had shot him down without so much as a blink. The cold, calculating point-man left him in the dust the second he left his embrace that night.

Eames sighed in his drink, wondering what possessed Arthur to let down his defenses for him that night. Eames knew he was a handsome, tempting devil and that anyone would be hard to resist his natural charm and charisma, yet it never seemed to affect Arthur before. So that night when Arthur let his guard down, Eames pounced. And Arthur let himself get caught. Key word- let.

Arthur never did anything without over analyzing it or dissecting it. He knew what he was doing. He was letting Eames have his romp in the sack. They were responsible adults after all. Just sex. Except Eames had the unexpected craving for more after the point-man walked away. He wanted more than just mind-blowing sex. He wanted him. He wanted the stick-in-the-mud, frigid, over analytical Arthur, more than he wanted anything else.

"Are you Mr. Eames?" asked a sultry female voice from besides him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a beautiful brunette with long curly hair and dark alluring eyes.

"Maybe. Who's asking?"

"My name is Justine Marks," she said smoothly. He sensed a confidence in her that rivaled himself. He liked that. But it also made him cautious.

"What can I do for you Miss Marks?" he asked passively taking a sip of his cocktail.

"I heard you're quite the forger."

He smiled sheepishly, "Aw, who told you that?" he pretended to be bashful and even flattered. But he wasn't. He was suspicious of anyone he didn't know. And who wanted him for a job.

"A friend- goes by the name Nick Holden. Have you heard of him?"

"Yes," Eames responded. He had heard through the grapevine that Holden had been working fast and loose with some of his clients but ultimately got the job done.

"Well, Holden's heard of you. We're interested in what services you can provide." She slipped a card on the counter towards him and leaned forward into his shoulder, brushing her ample bosom into his arm. "If you're interested, call me."

Eames watched as she slid provocatively off the barstool in her mini black dress. Her heels clacked against the floor as she strode out of the bar, hips swaying. Eames glanced down at the card. Justine Marks. He liked this woman. He flicked the card between his fingers, thinking. He needed the money and was stuck in the states. He wanted to go home, where ever that may be and this could possibly be his ticket out.

He smiled and absently glanced over to where the man he had been eye-flirting with earlier. The man had left. He missed his chance. Pity, he thought as he polished off his drink, paid and left. Though, who was he kidding, Eames didn't want that man. He wanted Arthur.

He hailed a taxi. Maybe taking this job would take his mind off the point-man. Well at least for the time being.


one week later…

Arthur stretched out on his couch with an open book. He had decided to take some time for himself when he got back from Prague. Something he rarely did, if ever. He read mostly or found other things to keep him busy. Working out endlessly, running a few miles a day or cooking. He was slightly bored but had to admit, he enjoyed having free-time especially since he came from a profession when someone's free time could be snatched away forever with a bullet.

Suddenly his phone rang, startling him out of his book. He sat up and reached for the phone. The number was secure. He answered, "Hello?"

"Arthur, thank God," said an all too familiar female voice on the other end.

"Marks? What do you want?" Arthur had severed all attachments with them when he left a week ago. Holden had called a few times but once Arthur explained he didn't want anything to do with the job or him, he stopped calling.

The woman took a breath over the phone, "We're in some trouble… we need your help."

Arthur felt his muscles tighten, "No. I told Holden I was through with this job. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I know- I'm sorry, Arthur. I wouldn't be calling if we weren't desperate." Her voice sounded frantic. Unlike the woman he had come to know. Justine Marks had been the only professional in the whole team that actually knew what she was doing. She was intelligent and had a vivid imagination. But she chose to partner herself to a man like Holden so that was a strike against her in Arthur's opinion.

"You are familiar with the job still," she continued hurriedly. "The subconscious security- we ran into a problem trying to by past them."

Arthur's jaw flexed but he said nothing.

"Holden's been taken. We sent in someone else to retrieve him but he hasn't come out either…"

"Why didn't Holden just shoot himself- get out of the dream?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

Marks paused for a long moment before whispering into the receiver, "they are three levels down, Arthur."

Jesus, Arthur thought horrified. Pushing the boundaries of the dream world was risky. It was proved to him on his last job with Cobb. Cobb barely made it out after falling into limbo. If Holden was killed in the third stage of the dream he would drop into limbo. Unused space of dreams. No one knew how long a person could survive down there. Months, years, decades, centuries…

"What do you think I can do, Marks?" he asked testily.

Her voice regained its' firmness though with an underlining sense of urgency still clinged to it, "You are the most capable point-man I know. If anyone could pull someone out of this mess, it's you." She hesitated before adding, "I'll give you Holden's share."

"He won't like that very much," Arthur commented drily.

"He failed to do his job. You still haven't. So are you in or out, Arthur?"

Arthur knew it was dangerous what she was asking him. But he couldn't deny his desire to pull Holden out of the dream world. Having Nick Holden in his debt was appealing. "Are you still in Prague?"

"No- LA," Marks replied which surprised Arthur. The team was in his backyard. She gave him the location of where the team was set up. After a moment she said sincerely, "Thank you, Arthur."

Without responding, he ended their phone call and slid the phone into his pocket. Arthur wasn't doing this for her. He was doing it for himself. He would not only get Holden's share but also have him in his debt. He felt greedy but it didn't matter. He spent the past three months on this job without finishing it because of that idiot Holden couldn't pull his team together. Now Arthur would save the day, he thought with a smug smile.

He slid on his sunglasses and headed for the door with his car keys in hand

TBC