Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus, and thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing!
Arthur shook his head in relief as he began to leave the station. He stopped by the front desk, and a young female officer smiled at him.
"Your things, Mr Ogilvie?"
Arthur nodded, and breathed more easily as he collected his wrist watch, wallet, and cell phone. He signed, and began to leave, fastening his watch as he did.
As he walked down the steps, and headed towards the parking lot, he began to punch in a number. After a few rings, he heard a voice.
"Hello?"
"Ari? Its me. Listen, you want to meet me?"
Robert stared insolently at Cobb, who smiled, patiently.
"Now, listen," Cobb said, his tone genial. "This doesn't have to get unpleasant. Any more unpleasant than it actually is."
Robert raised an eyebrow. His casual air of diffidence made Cobb feel he was dealing with a difficult, belligerant student. Gritting his teeth, he began to speak again.
"Robert, you're not making this easy. You had my-"
"I did what?"
Cobb blinked. "Are you the reason why Arthur was arrested this morning?"
Robert glared, coldly. "Dom. When someone puts red paint over my car - my very expensive, very well looked after car - I tend to get upset. Especially if its someone whom I know what a grudge against me."
Cobb leaned back in his seat. "Arthur has every right to hold a grudge against you."
Robert arched an eyebrow. "Very bold statement, Dom."
"Well," Cobb countered, "look at it this way. You managed to get him suspended on a trumped up charge, and this has degenerated into a battle of wills. You never miss an opportunity. You made yourself Vice principal, and-"
Robert looked at Cobb. "And then, suddenly, Arthur's back. And my car gets vandalised." He shrugged.
"Robert. Let me tell you this. And I suggest you think about it very, very carefully. Tomorrow, there will be the hearing for the disciplinary. You will be questioned, and so will Arthur. I suggest you stick to the facts."
Robert's facial expression didn't change. "Or what?"
"Or, you could find yourself in even deeper trouble than you are currently."
Robert shrugged, and got up. "I don't think so." He smiled, coldly. "I'm looking forward to the hearing. Trust me."
Before Cobb could stop him, he'd turned, and begun to walk out the door.
"OK, so what happened?"
Arthur swallowed, and handed Ariadne a glass of water. "Well, they're not pressing charges." He pulled a face. "No evidence. Clearly, Robert doesn't realise that you need fingerprints to pin blame on someone."
Ariadne took a swallow of water, her face reddening with anger. "Who does he think he is?"
"Robert Fischer, Jr." Arthur said, tiredly. "But, tomorrow, its all over."
"The disciplinary?" Ariadne nodded. "But what are you going to say?"
"The truth," Arthur said, softly. "That Fischer was making you uncomfortable, and I retaliated."
She swallowed. "And then what happens?"
Arthur smiled. "We get him arrested." She looked slightly shocked. "Ari...what he was doing was sexual harrassment. You can press charges."
The Art teacher swallowed. "Arthur, I don't know if this is a good idea. I just want this to be over, for you to come back to work ,and that to be it. I don't want to be pressing charges against Robert. What he did was ridiculous, but I should have stopped him. I am capable."
Arthur blinked, feeling slightly stunned. "Ari-"
"Arthur, you don't need to stand up for me," she said, smiling. "I'll be ok, tomorrow, I promise."
Arthur nodded. "OK." He smiled, and leaned forward, his lips searching for hers. "Its just I- worry," he said, lamely.
Ariadne laughed, and kissed the tip of his nose. "Oh, I know," she said, gently. She leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her.
Eames sighed tiredly, and checked his watch. He'd stayed later than he intended, tidying up the drama studio, and planning classes. He had a niggling feeling that Cobb's rejection of his resignation was only temporary. If Arthur had to leave, he knew the powerful arm of Robert Fischer would be trying to push him out. Grumbling, he reached for his jacket, and started to leave.
As he walked away from the school, the welcoming lights of the Coffee Bean began to beckon. He checked his watch; he was tired, it wasn't too late, and a mocha would be a welcome pick up. He entered, and walked to the counter. As he placed his order, he looked round.
He blinked. Sitting, discreetly tucked away in a booth, was Robert Fischer. Sitting opposite him was a nervous looking Twelth grader. Intrigued, Eames collected his order, and slipped unobtusively into an adjoining booth.
"I don't know if I can do it, Mr Fischer," the boy was saying, his words tripping over themselves. "Its-"
"I'll put it this way," Fischer's voice was ice. "Either you do this, or you find yourself failing school. OK?"
"Mr Fischer-"
"Just do it," Fischer snarled. He got up, and without turning, left the coffee chop. Eames sat frozen, unable to think about anything other than what he'd just heard. After waiting a few minutes, he got up quietly, and left.
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