Part Four

Phillipa painted Arthur with his bouquet of daisies in her art class. The teacher was so proud of it that she put it up on the wall before all of the other paintings. Phillipa was just happy that she got to draw him, even though the curved 'C' shape didn't accurately show his smile.

"So, who is the boy in your picture?" the teacher, Mrs. Wylie asked her.

Phillipa just smiled. "The best boy in the whole world."

"Hey, Mr. Arthur," Phillipa greeted, peeking in the doorway of his room. Arthur was tying his shoes and still smelled like the shower.

"Oh," he responded with a slight jump, "hello."

"Did you have a nice bath?"

"Yes…"

She twisted side to side, hands grasped together behind her back. "That's good… um… will you…"

He gave her his full attention, placing a hand on his knee. "What's up?"

"Will you come and play with me?" she asked, blushing. "Please? Since James is taking a nap, I don't have anyone to play with."

Arthur seemed vexed by the idea that James was napping but a check of his watch reminded him that he'd slept until eleven that morning because it was nearly noon. "You didn't ask Eames or Ariadne?"

"I'd much rather you play with me, Mr. Arthur."

He sighed, clambering to his feet. She marveled over the way the light caught the shine of his shoes.

"Okay. What do you want to play?"

She took his hand in hers, her fingers not nearly reaching around his palm, and dragged him down the hallway to her bedroom. "Come on!"

"What are we doing?" he asked.

He looked so completely out of place in the little girl's room while she fiddled with what looked like a stereo in front of her television set. The door was left open only a crack. Out of habit he checked for exits, and when he looked back at Phillipa, he couldn't help but crack a grin.

Phillipa was in large, star-shaped sunglasses, and a pink feather boa.

"Are you a movie star?" he asked.

"Nope! I'm a pop star!"

"Does that mean I'm your entourage? Security?"

She tilted her head. "I don't know what entarrige means, but right now your audience."

"Oh, okay," he nodded, sitting down on her bed and folding his hands in his lap.

She paused, staring back at what he had discovered was her karaoke machine. "Hmm… Mr. Arthur? Will you announce me?"

"Of course."

She began sitting all of her stuffed animals on the side of her bed, facing towards her imaginary stage, and Arthur held the microphone in his long fingers. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

She glanced back at him, grinning with all of her little white teeth. "I don't know."

He pondered it for a moment, and she observed the wrinkles in his forehead when he raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Are you ready?"

She ran into the closet, hiding behind her clothes that were being used as makeshift curtains. "Mm-hmm!"

And Arthur couldn't help himself, her excitement and fun-loving nature quite contagious. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, put your hands together for the one, the only Phillipa Cobb!" He even applauded for her.

She parted the clothes and strutted out when the music began, and Arthur put aside one of her stuffed dogs to sit on the bed. She jumped into a Taylor Swift song, overdramatically throwing her hand in the air or pointing to 'crowd members' and dancing.

He clapped and hooted when she finished the song, and she bowed several times.

"Ow!" Ariadne hissed. "Your foot is on my hand!"

"Sorry, love."

Cobb exited James's bedroom to find two co-workers hunched by Phillipa's bedroom door, peeking inside the crack. Ariadne was between Eames's legs, and they looked rather ridiculous.

"What are you doing?" Cobb asked.

"Shhhh!" they both shushed him.

Cobb threw his hands up in defeat and continued down the hall. "Sorry. Excuse me why I go and do something productive."

"Have fun with that," Ariadne mumbled. "God… that's so cute."

"I can't see his face though," Eames complained.

Phillipa skipped over to Arthur and put her boa around his neck. "Now, you be the pop star, and I'll be the audience, and then it'll be my turn again."

"Oh.. No, I don't think-"

She grabbed him by both hands, pulling him to his feet. "It'll be fun! It's so much fun, Mr. Arthur!"

"I'm not much of a singer," he said nervously.

"Sure you are! Come on, please?"

"Oh… I don't know… I don't even know if there are any songs on here that I know."

"There's a billion songs on there!"

Arthur gave her a sideways glance and smirk as he started sifting through titles, knowing there was no way to get out of it without her crying. "I can not believe I'm doing this."

"I can't really hear what's going on," Eames said.

"I think Arthur's gonna sing!" Ariadne said, excitement noticeably lacing her voice.

"What? Does he even know what music is?"

Arthur nodded as he made his decision and turned around. "Okay. Are you ready?"

She plopped down in the spot he had been previously occupying. "Yes. If you get nervous, just close your eyes."

Arthur sighed. "I'll do my best."

He pressed the button on the machine and didn't make a show out of it like she did, though she still applauded.

"I've got to get this on my phone," Ariadne mumbled, digging her cell phone out of her pocket. Eames already had his cell out.

"He actually does know what music is," Eames mumbled.

"That's the Beatles, isn't it?" Ariadne asked.

"Here comes the sun, doo-n-doo-doo, Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right," he sang quietly into the microphone.

Phillipa clasped her hands together, and her eyes were lit with stars while she watched, and Ariadne had to bite back a squeal. "I swear to God, this little girl is going to make me want kids…"

"Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years, since it's been here. Here comes the sun doo-n-doo-doo, here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right," he continued singing, and he closed his eyes because he was quite nervous.

Phillipa pulled out her new digital camera and snapped a picture when he wasn't looking.

Ariadne and Eames exchanged glances.

"Little darling, the smiles' returning to their faces," he turned to her, extending a hand, and she took it, hopping into his arms to sing with him. "Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here."

"Here comes the sun," they sang together. "Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right."

"Mr. Arthur?"

He looked up from the paperwork he had sprawled across the kitchen table, cigarette dangling between his fingers, and he quickly hid it behind his back. "Phillipa, what are you doing up so late? It's almost two in the morning."

"I had a bad dream."

"O-oh… well… do you want to tell me what it was about?"

She pretended not to see him put his cigarette out in a soda can. "It was about Mommy."

Arthur's shoulders slumped. "Oh."

She crawled up into a chair, hugging her knees. "I dreamed that she was standing in my bedroom doorway, and when I called out to her, she turned and walked away, and I chased after her, but I couldn't find her. She was gone."

He stroked the top of her head. "It was only a dream."

"Yeah…" she mumbled into her knees. "Except that it wasn't."

His eyebrows drooped the way of his shoulders. "Phillipa…"

She looked up at him, big green eyes filled with tears, and her mouth curved into a hard frown. "Why did she have to go?"

He stroked her cheek. "I can't answer that."

She whimpered and sobbed, and he wiped her tears away awkwardly.

"Hey, hey," he whispered and cupped her face so that she would look at him. "She wouldn't want you to be sad, would she?"

"N-no…" She hiccupped.

"Your dad would want to see you smile too, right?"

She nodded weakly.

"I know it hurts, and it's okay to feel sad, but don't let it paralyze you, okay? Things are going to be okay. Your dad is home, and he loves you and cares about you, and nothing is going to change that. You're smart and mature and sweet, and things are going to go right for you, and you'll be so happy. I promise you that."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart."

She hugged him, and he squeezed her back without hesitation this time. "It's okay. We all miss her," he told her.

Regardless, she couldn't bring herself to go back into her room that night, so he let her sleep in his, and he slept on the floor.

"What do you suppose she was doing with that photograph?" Eames asked Ariadne as she searched Phillipa's room. Phillipa and James had gone out with their father to see a movie.

"That's what I intend to find out. Help me find her camera."

"She probably took it with her. As far as I've noticed, she carries it with her everywhere."

"Do you think so?" she yelped when she hit her head on the bed she was looking under. "Why didn't you say anything when I started looking?"

Eames shrugged.

"Arthur's right. You are insufferable."

Eames smiled. "It's my pleasure, Ariadne."

She dove back underneath. "I did see something here… A-ha!" She reappeared with a photo album. "There must be a reason she has this stashed under here."

"I know why I stash things under my bed."

She rolled her eyes and placed the album on Phillipa's vanity table. "Let's see what we have here…" and she opened it.

"Well, blow me down…" Eames whispered. "That's Arthur!"

The first picture was of his nervous half-smile on the Christmas she'd received her camera. The glimmer of the lights on the tree reflected on his face. There were several more rather blurry photos of him, fixing coffee, reading…

Ariadne giggled at the picture of him sleeping, arm hanging off the side of the bed, mouth lolling open. "He drools when he sleeps. Who knew?"

"She's got quite an extensive collection here," Eames mentioned as Ariadne turned the page.

Both of them gasped audibly.

Face turned at a three-quarter view towards James, he was… smiling.

"Wow," was all Ariadne could say. "I… wow."

"No wonder he never smiles! You don't smile like that at anything."

"You could swim in his dimples!"

"I know!"

"He looks like an angel!"

"I know!"

Almost regretfully she turned the page and found yet another picture of him sleeping, this time against the couch. There were more shots of him, one in particular of him red in the face over what appeared to be a burnt meal.

She had not caught him smiling again.

Ariadne closed the book when she came to the first empty page. "I almost wish we didn't have to stop this crush."

"Admittedly, if she had been an adult, this would be creepy."

Ariadne laughed and stashed the book again. "I think I'm beginning to see why…"

"…she loves him so much…" Eames finished for her.

They both sighed.

"We have to tell Cobb about this," Ariadne said.

"Cobb? We should tell Arthur about this."

"Tell Arthur about what?"

They both jumped.

Arthur stood in the doorway, eyebrow cocked. "What are you guys doing in here?"

"Nothing!" they both cried.

"You know, I keep hearing that a lot, and for some reason, I'm finding it harder and harder to believe. I'm assuming you're 'researching,' correct?"

They both grinned rather sheepishly.

"We're trying to assist with your little problem with Phillipa, yes," Eames assured him.

"So… it's information that can't be shared with me for some reason?"

"I didn't say that," Eames said, looking at Ariadne.

"You were the one who wanted to tell him," Ariadne said right back.

They both looked at Arthur.

"Well…?" he asked.

There were sounds coming from downstairs, and within a few minutes, Phillipa appeared, chattering excitedly about the movie she'd just seen. "Hey… why are all you guys in my room?" she asked.

"Yeah, why are we?" Arthur asked, staring at the guilty party.

"We're…" Ariadne stammered. "We're uh…"

"Playing hide and seek," Eames decided. "We hadn't really started yet, but Arthur said that your room would be the perfect base."

"I- what?"

"Can I play too?" she asked.

"Of course you can!" Eames laughed. "You're it!"

And he bolted from the room.

Arthur stared at Ariadne for a moment, and she looked just as desperate and confused, but when Phillipa leaned up against her dresser and started counting, they both bolted for the door as well.

One time, Arthur fell asleep on the couch, and Phillipa saw, where his shirt had rolled up, he had a tattoo on his back. It was in some other language that she didn't understand, but when he awoke, she asked him about it.

He blushed and smiled a bit in embarrassment. "Oh, that… I got that at a party in Russia when I was studying abroad. It's a Russian saying pronounced "Avos' da kak-nubud' do dobra ne dovedut" and means "Maybe and somehow won't make any good". It's a word of advice to not rely on chance."

"Why is it bad to rely on chance?"

"Admittedly… I've discovered it's not always a bad thing, but back when I got it, I didn't think that way… Well, when I got it, I wasn't thinking much of anything…"

"What's that mean?"

"I'll… tell you when you're older."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, not even realizing that he did. She was charmed beyond belief over that she could get a smile out of him without working hard.