Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.

Cobb swallowed as he sat opposite the young detective. Blake's face was serious, but not unkind. In fact, with his dark hair and slightly intense look, he reminded him of Arthur.

"Mr Cobb," Blake began, clearing his throat. "Where were you the night the fire started?"

Cobb nodded. "I was at home. With my wife, and children."

Blake nodded. "Thank you. Had you reported your wallet missing?"

Cobb swallowed. "No," he admitted. "It went missing at work, and I was concerned that if a student had taken it, it could be very difficult for them." He looked at the young detective, who nodded. "I preferred to order new plastic, and mention it to the bank."

Blake swallowed. "I see. Did Mr Ogilvie and Mr Eames mention they were going to be at the school?"

Cobb shook his head. "No. But its not unusual for Arthur to work late - very late. I suspect Eames was drafted in to keep him company."

"OK." Blake shut his notebook. "Mr Cobb, this is a sensitive question. What are relations like at school between the Faculty and Robert Fischer?"

Cobb started. "They are...interesting." Blake's face quirked, and Cobb could have sworn he was trying to conceal a smile. "Robert does not have the easiest time, but he doesn't really help himself."

"Really?" Blake raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Well, it doesn't help that he's the son of the district's biggest beneficiary, and works part time. It also doesn't help that his teaching methods are questionable. He made a charge against Arthur based on something completely ridiculous, and the district supported him."

Blake nodded. "Right. Mr Cobb...do you have any idea who started the fire?"

Cobb bit his lip. "No, I don't."

"Fine." Blake closed his notebook. "Your wallet is down at forensics, we need to run a few prints." He smiled. "That's it. Thank you."

Cobb got up, feeling slightly shaky. As he exited, he made a note to call Arthur.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Arthur frowned. He and Eames had been sitting in the car, for half an hour. Arthur pulled his jacket closely round him. "Yep."

Eames shook his head. "I don't like it. We have no reason to turn up at a student's house-"

"We do if its to do with the fire. We can't expect Blake to do all the leg work." He turned to Eames. "You're sure it was this kid?"

"Yes," Eames muttered. "Shall we?"

Swallowing, Arthur opened the car door, and got out, folloed by Eames. As they approached the one level house, they heard voices. Raised, angry voices.

"I don't care what you're doing, you little shit!" yelled a man's voice. "Go and get me some beer!"

"Dad-" a teenager's voice quavered, "Dad, you've had enough, I think-"

"Don't you-" suddenly, Arthur heard a punch being thrown.

Eames' eyes narrowed. "Heard enough." Before Arthur could stop him, he'd thrown his weight at the door, causing it to shudder and swing open. Arthur's eyes widened. A man, clearly drunk, was holding a teenage boy's collar, his fist raised, ready to strike.

"Hey!" Arthur snapped. "Stop that!"

The man lessened his grip, his eyes widening at Eames and Arthur's interest. "Who you?" he slurred.

"I'm Arthur Ogilvie, this is Eames. I'm Vice Principal at your son's school, and if you don't step away from him, I will have social services round in five minutes." He looked at Eames. "Actually, I think I'll notify them now. Eames!"

Eames nodded. "Fine." He pulled his cell phone out.

The man shook his head. "What the-" he was swaying, clearly heavily inroxicated. He shuffled to a battered looking sofa, and collapsed. His eyes closed.

Arthur turned to face the teenager. He was swallowing, "Mr Ogi-"

"Dean," Arthur said gently, "do you know why we're here? Heard about the school?"

The boy's face paled. "I- I-"

"How much did Fischer promise you?" Eames broke in. Arthur threw him a look.

The boy's facade crumbled. "A thousand dollars," he whispered.

Arthur rubbed his face. "OK," he said, his voice quiet. "Listen, you need to come with us. You need to tell someone, OK?"

Dean nodded. He was completely accepting, Arthur noticed. Not even protesting. It was as though he were glad he'd been caught out. "Yes." His voice faltered. "My Dad..."

Arthur shook his head. "Dean, you can't stay here. You know that."

The teenager nodded. "Come on." Arthur said, gently. As the three of them left, Eames made sure he'd shut the door, firmly.

Arthur looked up as Blake exited the interview room. "Well?"

Blake swallowed. "He's not denying starting the fire. He's not denying stealing Dom Cobb's wallet. And he doesnn't deny that Fischer promised to pay him." He bit his lip. "I'm not sure what the charge will be." He looked at Arthur. "What made you go and find him?"

Arthur swallowed. "We were scanning the database the night the fire started," he admitted. "Eames overheard Fischer in the coffee shop. He vaguely recognised him, but when he saw the picture..." he looked at Blake. "He can't go home."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Violent father."

Blake nodded. "OK. I know of a boys' home, reckon I could get him a bed there, at least for tonight. And we have to contact social services, all right?"

Arthur nodded. "Thank you."

"Go." Blake nodded. "Leave us to deal with this."

Arthur, feeling exhausted, began to walk back to his car. On the drive back to his apartment, he found himself musing the bizarre sequence of events over in his mind, pondering. He braked in the parking lot, and began to enter.

As he put the key in the lock, he smiled. He could smell lemon. As he entered, Ariadne got off the couch.

"Arthur!" She walked up to him, hugging him tightly. "Where- how?"

He smiled, tiredly. "Its been...long."

She bit her lip. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." He shook his head, and pulled her close. "you're the most important thing to me. Stay."

Suddenly, his cell rang. "Oh, Cobb." He shook his head.

"You going to answer it?" Ariadne asked, tentatively.

Arthur, feeling a sudden rush of defiance, clicked it off.

"No." He smiled at her. "Not this time." Pulling her to him, their lips met in a deep kiss.

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