Tak, with a little more insight than i originally wrote in, the better to keep her from seeming like a horrible Mary Sue butting her way into the story.

warnings: post-movie (slightly AU?). light slash leanings. taking liberties with when/how the characters met and how long they've known each other. OC: Tak Shibuya (i swear she's not a Mary Sue). language: g.

pairing: none/gen.

timeline: several months post-movie.

disclaimer: Chris Nolan owns Inception and its characters.

notes: 1) apparently, Mal's mother's official name is "Marie." 2) some people can just politely ignore awful mispronunciation. some people foam at the mouth. 3) a Grand Lux is a fairly nice suite at the L'Ermitage Beverly Hills, a five-star, five-diamond hotel. very nice for a weekend getaway. 4) the best cons don't do it for the money. they do it for the thrills, and because they can.

p.s. i'm totally okay with you hating Tak at the moment. she's definitely giving me a hell of a time as a muse/character…she keeps trying to be mysterious and i'm like "no, i have to explain more about you, or people will want to stake you through the chest."


Tak

"I want you to meet my babysitter," Dom had said, quite seriously.

"What?" Arthur had replied, nonplussed. First, he had no idea why Dom would give up precious time with the children he'd only just gotten back. Second, he had no idea why Dom would want Arthur to meet his babysitter, of all people. "What babysitter? What about Marie?"

"To be honest, I got a little tired of the accusatory glances."

Arthur could understand that. Mal's mother still isn't completely convinced that Dom didn't push his wife out a window. "Hm. But what's so important about a babysitter?"

"Trust me."

So here they are, Arthur and this strange girl, sitting together at Dom's kitchen table while Dom and his kids build a cardboard fort in the yard (assorted moving boxes, all shapes and sizes).

She was introduced to him as Tak Shibuya, but he doesn't quite believe that's her real name.

Tak is petite and carelessly dressed (frumpy clothes, slip-on shoes, messy ponytail). She doesn't make eye contact with him, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that she must be at least half Japanese.

"Have you known Mr. Cobb long?" she asks. Her accent is very American, something flavorless and urban that may be a complete affectation (he's heard Eames fake exactly the same nondescript accent).

"Yes," Arthur replies.

"Okay," she says, after it becomes clear he isn't going to say more.

He watches her. She watches a spot near his cheek—not his eyes, never his eyes. That's interesting. "So, Miss Shibuya…"

She flinches at the pronunciation (he hears her mutter the name properly, shee-boo-yah).

Arthur carefully makes no sign of having heard her. "…that's a Japanese name, isn't it?"

"Mm."

"What do you do? Aside from babysitting, that is."

She shrugs a little. "I'm an artist."

Ah, that's more like it. "Architecture?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm okay at building things, but lousy with technical drawings. I mean…I couldn't draw a city to save my life, but the kids and I built a pretty awesome one last week with blocks."

"That's all right," he tells her. "Sometimes being able to build is more useful. Do you draw?"

"I'm a sculptor, mostly. So-so with animals. Better with people. I do a lot of surrealism, but it doesn't sell well."

"And where do you get your inspiration?"

She shrugs again. "Books. Games. Movies. Dreams."

Ah.

"Dreams," he echoes.

"Mm-hm. I'm a lucid dreamer. My brain comes up with some weird stuff, and then I do whatever I want and see what comes of it…and if it's any good, I sketch it the next day and see if I can sculpt it."

Very interesting. "Have you heard of dream-sharing?" he asks her.

"Oh, sure, my uncle—" She breaks off abruptly, pretty half-Asian eyes wide with something like worry.

Arthur keeps his tone light when he says, "What about your uncle?"

"Just…y'know, he mentioned…" She looks away from his face altogether, staring out into the yard. Phillipa giggles. Tak blinks. "My uncle introduced me to Mr. Cobb. Said Mr. Cobb had done some work for him in the past and might have some use for my…talents."

James and Phillipa scamper into the kitchen, digging for plastic cups and getting a jug of juice out of the fridge.

"Hold it still," Phillipa tells her brother as she uncaps the juice and begins to pour.

Dom stands between Tak and Arthur with his hands in his pockets. "Have you told him, Tak?"

Her dark eyes dart up, then away, and she shakes her head.

"It's all right, Arthur's an old friend. We work together."

All at once, Tak looks straight into Arthur's eyes. There's something oddly piercing about her gaze. She clears her throat. "All right, then. Tak Shibuya is not the name I was born with. I've had several others, and they don't really matter. My uncle is a very rich and powerful man, and he purchased Mr. Cobb's services several months ago."

Arthur blinks. "Saito," he says.

"Saito," she mutters, correcting his pronunciation again (sigh-toe). Careful vowels and a crisp T, picking out the O in a way he's only heard fluent speakers do. "My uncle seems to think my artistic ability, along with certain other 'talents' I have, will make me uniquely capable in dream-sharing. Quite frankly, he hopes it'll keep me out of…'further embarrassing legal misadventures.'"

"So I thought you could plug her in and give her some training," Dom says blithely. "See if Saito's right."

As if someone like Saito could possibly be wrong.

Tak flinches when Dom says the name—the T is wrong, flicked carelessly.

"Yusuf's been flown in to find the best mix for her," Dom goes on. "And…see if you can track down Eames and Ariadne."

"Okay," Arthur replies. He pulls a small notebook out of the pocket of his blazer and writes down the address of the hotel where he's staying, tears out the page and slides it over to Tak. "Tomorrow. Two o'clock."

She raises an eyebrow when she reads the note. "You, Mr. Clarke, are a snob."

"I enjoy the finer things in life." "Five hundred a night is a little beyond 'finer things in life.'"

He looks at her, but she doesn't give an inch. "I have a minor weakness for five-star hotels," he admits.

She grins. "There's nothing quite like a Grand Lux if you plan to stay a while."

When he gets back to his hotel suite, Arthur immediately starts researching Tak. He finds a dozen aliases, in Japanese and English and halfway in-between. 'Further embarrassing legal misadventures,' indeed: several of those aliases have been arrested for fraud and confidence schemes, several more implicated but never charged (or never found). She's the daughter of Saito's deceased younger sister, older than she looks, but much younger than she pretends to be. Piecemeal formal education, with indications that she is smart but poorly motivated.

It's like a thousand other stories of a thousand other professional liars (himself included). Arthur absently wonders if even Eames' story is like that. 'In and out of trouble with the law,' and 'piecemeal education,' and 'smart but poorly motivated.'

Provided they can find the appropriate motivation, a con-man (con-woman, in this case) who can build will make an excellent extractor.

.End.