Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

"You heard what?" Arthur sat upright in his chair, his fingers curled around the handle of his coffee mug. He'd been idly strumming his guitar, trying to think about the hearing the following day, when Eames had called. Unable to decipher the over-excited, and garbled message he'd left, Arthur had rung back, and asked him to come round.

"I heard," Eames said, patiently, running a hand back over his hair, "I heard Fischer threatening a student. Telling him that he'd be in trouble if he didn't do something."

"But are you sure this is something to do with this?" Arthur took a sip of coffee. "Maybe he was trying to bribe him into washing his porsche."

"And if he is, we can get him for that." Eames smiled. Arthur shook his head.

"Look, Eames, something is going on." Arthur put his mug down. "I know it is. But what you heard - we have no evidence."

"But Arthur-"

"Look, did you even recognise the student?"

Eames shook his head. "No." He looked crushed. "But remember, I only teach two classes of Twelves-"

"Hang on!" Arthur interrupted, getting to his feet. "Let's go back to Fox."

"What?" Eames looked non-plussed. "Its half seven."

"Yes, and I have a security pass, and so do you. Come on."

"Why?"

Arthur turned and looked at Eames. "To find out who this is, using the student record database. They have photos, remember?"

Eames swallowed. "Well, I-"

"You brought me this information," Arthur said, quietly. "I assume you expect me to use it?"

Eames nodded. "Yes." He got up. "Shall we go?"

"James! Phillipa!"

Cobb looked up as he heard his wife's voice echo through the hallway. He looked at the clock on the desk in his study, and pushed his chair back. Time for bed. Getting up, he began to walk down the hallway, and walked into Mal.

"Its all right," she said, gently. "I'll get them ready for bed, you have to prepare for tomorrow." She patted Cobb on the shoulder, causing him to smile, gratefully. "I'll cope!"

"Thanks," he admitted. "Its just that this case - it could fall apart and-"

"You need to finish practising your notes," she reminded him, gently. "Go on."

Rubbing his forehead, Cobb walked back towards his study. He settled in his chair, and leafed through the bulging dossier.

"Robert," he mumbled, "why can't I just fire you?"

Arthur tapped his security card on the electronic key, and waited. After a few seconds, the doors opened. "Come on," he said, nodding at Eames.

The older man followed him, and they walked up the stairs to the management offices. Arthur swiped his card down the door lock to his office, pushed the door open, and entered.

"OK," he said, sitting down at the computer chair. "How would you describe this kid?"

Eames sank into another chair, and thought. "Erm, blonde. Skinny. Pale."

Arthur looked at him. "That describes about 60% of the boys in the Twelth grade. Care to be more specific?"

Eames paused, thoughtfully. "He had a-" he swallowed, trying to remember what he'd seen. "He had a mole on his left cheek," he offered, helpfully. "A small one."

Arthur nodded. "I think I might know who that is." He began tapping into the computer. After a few seconds, the machine began to hum gently, and pictures began to flash up on the screen. Using the mouse, Arthur moved and clicked on the images.

"There. Look." He leaned back in his seat. Eames blinked. Looking out from the screen was the pale, yet defiant face of the boy he'd seen with Fischer. Arthur tapped the screen. "Does he look familiar?"

Eames nodded. "Yes, that's him. But-" he paused - "why is he working with Fischer?"

Arthur swallowed. "His name is Michael Kerr. He has something of a-" he paused and turned to Eames - "grudge against me."

"A grudge? Why?"

Arthur sighed. "Because I caught him smoking once on campus, and called his parents. What I didn't realise at the time was his father is somewhat - abusive."

"Abusive?"

"He beats him." Arthur fell silent, and rubbed his face. "He got home, and his father laid into him. He came into school the next day with bruising on his face. Mal called social services, but his father argued that he'd brought it on himself by breaking the rules. But, if I'd let it go-"

"But you couldn't let it go." Eames looked at Arthur, his expression serious. "There are rules, here, and its your job, my job, our job to enforce them."

"Yes, but if I'd known the circumstances-" Arthur trailed off, feeling unable to express himself further. "I wouldn't have done it."

"Well, what's done is done," Eames said pragmatically, only to recoil when Arthur glared at him. "Sorry. Trying to be...helpful."

"Well, we've identified him," Arthur said, deciding to gloss over Eames' comment. "Now, the hard part."

"Which is?"

"We go to his house, and-"

"Arthur!" Eames turned to him, shocked. "If his father finds out-"

"He doesn't live with them anymore." Arthur shook his head. "His brother is ten years older - he lives with him, and his wife, I believe. But that's another reason so hate me, the breaking up of his family."

"So you did him a favour, really."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Do you think a teenager would see it that way? Come on." He began to log off, and stood up. "Let's-"

Suddenly, he stopped. Eames frowned. "What is it?"

"I'm sure I can-" Arthur sniffed the air. "Smell smoke."

Eames shrugged. "My cigarettes are in my top pocket."

"No, I-" Arthur swallowed. "Seriously, I-"

Eames clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Arthur, come on. We need to go."

The younger man sighed, but realised he had no choice. "OK, let's go."

The two men exited the office, and walked down the hallway. As they descended the stairs, Arthur stopped, and sniffed again.

"Eames. Smoke. Can you-"

"Yes," the older man said, his expression starting to reflect concern. "I can, come on, let's-"

Arthur turned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure running along the bottom corridor. "Hey!" he shouted, and started to head after him. Without a moment's hesitation, Eames followed.

As the two men approached the bottom of the stairs, Eames' eyes widened. Smoke was beginning to travel along the corridor.

"Arthur, we need to-" he turned, to address the younger man. To his shock, he saw the swing door moving, a clear indication that Arthur had gone through it. "Arthur!"

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