Sleeper Cell, 5/22. NC-17.
Title: Sleeper Cell (Sequel to The Ghost Network)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU fic to the movie and a direct sequel to the Ghost Network, so you absolutely need to read that one first. There's violence, language, eventually graphic sex and torture (that will get marked) and various characters screwing with each others' heads. Also incorporates the following prompt from round 10 of the
inception_kink meme: Ariadne and Arthur have to rescue Eames from some debacle he's in.
Summary: Inspector Eames had several different roles to play in helping the British government. Not all of them were savory, and none of them were entirely safe.
Prior chapters:
One - An Impossible Request
Two - Careful What You Wish For
Three - Closing The Circle
Four - Chasing Shadows In The Dark
Mombasa was hot and teeming with people at the market. The voices blurred all around him, and Eames focused on the poker chip in his hand. He drew it across his knuckles and nearly froze when he saw Dominic Cobb seated across from him at the table.
"You shouldn't be here," Eames told him.
"Consider this a warning. It's Cobol's territory here, after all. I can't stay." He smiled, though it was soulless and empty. "You keep rubbing that chip like it'll reproduce."
Asshole. Eames lost the hand and bowed out of the game, taking his handful of remaining chips. "You're buying me a drink."
"Of course."
They sat at a table near a courtyard, and Eames ate peanuts in an almost agitated manner. "Spill."
"Eden and Shelley are going to look for you," Cobb began.
"Bullshit. They treasure their own skin more than me."
"It's a request from the Network."
Eames snorted. "Fuck you, Cobb. Assuming you're not just one of my projections."
Cobb snorted and downed his drink. "Do you know why MI6 really wants you out of the way?"
"Why don't you enlighten me?"
"It's not just what you know, it's who you know. You're Mayhew's golden child at the Yard, and your own personal network of contacts is almost legendary." Eames snorted and watched the bar rather than Cobb's earnest expression. "You're not paying attention, Eames. Why the fuck do you think you survived, seven years ago?"
Eames turned to glare at Cobb. "Nice try, asshole. Max and I got out because Calliope drew the short straw and stayed behind. No more, no less. I thought she was dead all these years."
"You were turned into a sleeper. You, Eames. Not just Milton, you. Milton's disappearance was just to draw you in, to trigger you. He's not the one that went rogue," Cobb insisted. "You did."
Eames glared at Cobb. "Now I know you're fucking with me."
"Listen to me," Cobb insisted, reaching out to grab hold of Eames' arm. He let go at Eames' glare. "Think back to what happened."
"It was a terrorist group, splintered off of Iraq. They were going to target the Crown. We couldn't allow that." Eames frowned at Cobb. "We shut them down, reported back and were debriefed. Then we were decommissioned and cut loose."
"And that didn't strike you as strange?"
"Of course it did, you pillock. But they've done worse when faced with budget cuts. Easy enough to place the blame on us." Eames drummed his fingers on the table. "Half of us died that day. They shook us loose like so much trash and had us fend for ourselves. We never stood a chance."
"Why kill off capable agents that way?" Cobb asked, squinting at Eames. "Why cut you loose when you did as they said? Your team had an amazing close rate. Why leave you for dead if you were useful to the Crown?"
He had often wondered about that. His team hadn't made too many enemies at MI6. They knew a lot of people in the field, in the intelligence community. No one had been gunning for them seven years ago.
"It's who you know, Eames. It's always been about who you know."
Eames narrowed his eyes at Cobb. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I don't know anyone important anymore."
"Don't sell yourself short, Eames," Cobb chided, his smile mercenary. "You're still important to a lot of people."
He instantly thought of Ariadne, and by extension Arthur. Max and Yusuf were his friends, and they thought he was important. Mayhew would. Shelley might miss him, but it was just business, especially after the shakedown four years ago.
"You know someone," Cobb said, sounding pleased. "Tell me."
"Of all the people to forge, Cobb really shouldn't have been it," Eames remarked. He turned toward the man sitting in front of him that was wearing Cobb's face. "He's a self-centered prick and he wouldn't be here."
Everyone in the casino turned as one and stared at Cobb. Eames saw a trickle of sweat along his hairline and liked to think it was from more than the heat. He got up slowly, backing away from the table. He was the subject, so these were his projections. Cobb wasn't reacting the same way, so Calliope had a forger doing this. Of all the people to pick, why him? He turned and walked toward the bar as the projections advanced toward Cobb, who now looked like one of the guards Calliope had with her.
"I think I'll just shoot myself in the head and wake up," Eames said lightly, heading toward the bar. "Someone's bound to have a knife I can use." He patted himself down. "Ah, yes. I always dream of this beauty," he said, lifting a gun out of his jacket pocket.
He had the gun against his temple when he thought he saw Ariadne out of the corner of his eye. Slack jawed, he put the gun away and raced after her. He knew she had to be projection, she had to be, no one in the UK would have known how important she had been to him. She was in a thin little summer dress, out of deference to the heat, her hair loose and in frizzy waves. She was with Arthur, of course, that rotter, but he accepted that. She had made her choice, and he hadn't been romantically involved with her anyway. She smiled up at him, seated at a table far from where the piss-poor forger had been. The projections at the bar were all calm again, going about their business as if nothing happened. "Why are you here?" he asked her.
"Why do you need me to be here?" she asked him back. "You tell me."
He couldn't help but smile at the way she laughed and Arthur glowered at her. "I missed you."
"Ah, so that must be it. Why not have a drink? They probably don't know he failed yet."
Eames followed her eyes to where the forger was being torn limb from limb by one of his projections. "Well, I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt."
"If he's the dreamer, this will all collapse once he wakes. Might as well enjoy it, right?" she asked, scooting over a bit in her chair to make room for him.
"True enough," he agreed. "I'm even willing to put up with you," he said, shooting an annoyed glance in Arthur's direction.
"You really shouldn't hate me so much," Arthur replied stiffly. "I'm keeping her safe from you, aren't I? Did you really think she could escape any of this if she had stayed where she was?" Arthur asked him.
Eames snagged Arthur's drink and downed it all at once. He felt the burn of the scotch and sighed. Glenfidditch. Of course he'd dream of the good stuff. "Look. You changed her mind somehow. It wasn't really her choice."
"Of course it was." His eyes were empty, and Eames felt a chill at the sight of them trained on him. "It was always her choice. You're just upset she didn't choose you."
Ariadne placed her hand on Eames' arm. "Enough. We'd talk in circles if you two keep this up."
"Ariadne," Eames said with a sigh, shaking his head. "As long as you're safe, it's all right. Mostly."
She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Eames. It means a lot to me."
Eames looked down at his hands. "I don't suppose I'll ever figure out what happened."
"I'm all right, Eames. Really. You know that. I wouldn't be so calm if I wasn't."
Everything began to shake and tremor around him. "What in blazes?"
"He's gone," Arthur said, looking over at where the forger had been. "He woke up. I guess he was the dreamer. It's all starting to collapse."
"Time to wake up," Ariadne said, pulling Eames to his feet. "Go on and get out of here if you can. You have to stay safe, or we'll never see each other again."
Her touch burned, and Eames gasped as his eyes snapped open.
He was in the cell, strapped down with an IV in his arm. It had been just a dream, after all, but he still felt the pang of loss.
"He's awake," came a familiar voice.
Brows knit, Eames turned and saw Arthur and Ariadne standing there, guns at their sides. There were five bodies in the room all around him. "Jesus Christ," Ariadne whispered, going though Milton's notes at the desk. "What were they doing?"
"Just take it and let's go. Someone's bound to notice the noise and the bodies before long," Arthur said, his voice sharp. He pulled at the bonds around Eames' arms and yanked the IV line without ceremony, taping a square of gauze to it.
"Shit, that hurts."
"Well, now you know it's real," Arthur replied stiffly. "Come on, let's go." Eames fell off of the table and Arthur had to catch him so he wouldn't hit the floor face first. "Goddammit, Eames," Arthur snarled. "We don't have much of a window here and I won't let Ariadne get caught in this because of you."
That got him to force his feet to move. "What'd they do?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and fuzzy in his mouth.
"We need to call Yusuf," Ariadne said worriedly, coming to Eames' other side. He hated that he had to lean on her tiny frame, but he couldn't make his own body work right. He dimly remembered Yusuf saying there were side effects to Milton's protocol, things that left the brain a mushy mess.
He was only dimly conscious as they left the fort, bodies strewn along the hallway. He hadn't recalled that many bodies when he had been going through the halls with Gray, but supposed that reinforcements had been called when he and Eden were caught. "Did they get away?" he rasped as Arthur manhandled him into a car. Ariadne was behind the wheel, and she drove through the streets at Arthur's direction, a map and flashlight perched in his lap.
"Who?" Ariadne asked, making a turn that led them out of Old Town.
"Eden. Shelley. I saw them kill Pascal and Gray." Eames tried to clear his head and sit up, and Arthur spun around and shoved him back down across the seat. "Oi!"
"Sit your ass down, Eames. We're not out of Kenya yet. Let's not get shot, all right?"
"Be nice," Ariadne hissed at Arthur, picking up a little speed as they got onto one of the main roads. She maneuvered them around to the highway leading to the airport. "Half his team just died, Arthur."
"I'll feel better when we're gone," Arthur replied, folding up the map. "The way's pretty straightforward from here on out." He took out his cell phone and started dialing. "I'll have the plane ready when we get there."
"I don't know where the others are," Ariadne said, risking a glance behind her. He saw the sympathetic twist to her lips and the soft light in her eyes before she turned back around. "I had Arthur keep an eye on you. I was worried."
"Sorry," Eames mumbled, his eyes falling shut. There were still sedatives in his system, and he felt groggy and sick. Fucking protocol that Milton used. "I didn't mean to. I wanted to keep you out of this." He opened his eyes and looked at Ariadne, hoping she would believe how sincere he was if she looked behind her.
"Good news is, I think that covered everyone," Arthur intoned. Ariadne shot him an annoyed look, which Eames was gratified to see. "What? That's what they wanted. They wanted to use him to kill the entire sleeper cell and didn't care who was hurt in the process. Did you really think I wanted to be part of this?"
"Arthur..."
"Wait," Eames said suddenly, jerking fully awake. "Calliope. She was there. Tall, dreads, shacked up with Milton. Did you see her?"
"Yeah," Arthur admitted, turning around to look at Eames. "Right before I shot her in the head."
"Oh." Eames settled into the backseat. "Oh."
"Girlfriend?" Arthur snarked, lip curled to needle Eames.
He was too tired to rise to the bait. He merely shook his head. "I thought she was dead. Turned out she wasn't. Fucked with me."
"You're safe now," Ariadne said firmly. She glanced at Arthur and shook her head firmly when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "Not now, Arthur, please. Let him rest. Let's just get in the air, go someplace safe and see if we need Yusuf's help to make him better."
Arthur sighed and slid his hand along her leg. "All right." He gave her leg a squeeze. "Everything will be ready. Just rest, Inspector."
"Thank you," Eames said honestly, exhaustion in his tone. "I know you didn't have to help me."
Arthur turned around to look at Eames, an almost pained expression on his face. He looked at the back of Ariadne's head, then back at Eames. "Yes, I did."
***
Eames came to in an unfamiliar bed. He had been stripped to his boxers and placed between soft sheets. The room was spare, but there was a quiet elegance about it and sunlight streaming in through gaps in the curtains on the windows. He threw the covers aside and pushed himself to a seated position, swaying a little until his head cleared. He pulled the curtain aside and looked out over a wide manicured lawn. This had to be where Arthur and Ariadne lived.
He found fresh clothes in his size in the dresser, tags still attached. He pulled them off in irritation then started wandering through the house. It was large but quietly opulent, the sort of place that would be in a decorating magazine. He heard music and followed it to its source; Arthur and Ariadne were dancing in the den, music playing on the stereo. She was in a summer dress, her legs and feet bare. Arthur was in jeans and a loose T shirt, feet also bare, his arms wrapped around Ariadne as they swayed in time to the music.
Whatever he had thought of the two of them together, tenderness hadn't really been part of it.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching them dance, but Ariadne noticed him first. She didn't pull away from Arthur, though she faltered in her step, alerting Arthur. "You're up. Thank god. It's been almost a day."
"How did I get here?" he rasped, knowing he had no totem to check if this was reality.
"One of the perks of owning my own company," Arthur began, a slightly imperious note to his voice, "is that I have my own plane. We got you out of Kenya, did a few switches to make it look like you went to South Africa, and we're actually here at my villa in Italy."
"You probably need to eat something," Ariadne said, moving forward and catching his hands in hers. "Let's fix up something you can tolerate, okay?"
It was almost comfortable with the three of them in the breakfast nook of the kitchen as Ariadne warmed up some leftover soup. She started talking about a job that she and Arthur had gotten involved in so that she could practice her architecture skills. When no judgment seemed to be forthcoming on Eames' part, Arthur seemed to unwind a little bit and stop sitting there so stiffly. Ariadne pressed a fond kiss to his cheek as she passed him to give Eames the soup, and Eames let out a little sigh.
"I suppose I should apologize," Eames began slowly, looking at Arthur. "Mind you, you're still a lying sack of shit for what you pulled at the Bureau. But you're not a dick to Ariadne."
Ariadne sighed heavily as Arthur leaned back in his chair, amused. "After all that happened, did you really think I would be?"
"You played mind games with the lot of us. What was I supposed to think?"
"I love her," Arthur said firmly as Ariadne said a quiet "Eames" to settle him down. "It was never about you, okay? It was always about keeping her safe. I didn't want her involved in the damned things they have you do." Arthur clasped Ariadne's hand tightly in his and looked from their hands to Eames. "Cobb would have broken her, you know that. He didn't care what it was doing to her. I haven't had to do anything since then. The Network's been silent, and there's been no one to look into on that front."
"All the while we were worried about her..."
"I told you, you were looking too hard for something that wasn't there," Arthur said. There wasn't any triumph in his tone; if there had been, Eames might not have been able to hold back from punching him in the face. "You couldn't see past your own perspective."
"Listen, it's done," Ariadne said firmly. "There's no point in rehashing this. It's over, and we can't go back to change anything."
Eames had missed that no nonsense way she had about her. He had missed just having someone to talk to, really, as his current partner at the Yard was an utter stick in the mud. They worked well together on cases, but there was no flair or personality, no joie de vivre. Eames really liked playing off of that.
"You're right," he admitted with a sigh, scrubbing at his jaw tiredly.
"I'm just glad you're all right," Ariadne said, reaching out to grasp his hand tightly. "You had me worried, Eames." She blinked back tears threatening to form, and Arthur rubbed her back gently in support. "You know, for a while there, I thought it was all my fault. If I'd said something sooner to let you know I was okay, I wouldn't worry you. Or instead of waiting for you to come to me this time, if I just called you and let you know I was okay. That there was nothing else going on, that we were just together because we wanted to be..."
"Listen," Eames interrupted, shaking his head. "I'm not going to break up anything that works. I just want you happy, Ariadne. You're one of the few friends I have left in the world. Which is pretty sad, if you consider we'd only known each other for about a year, right?"
Ariadne snorted. "Time isn't the measure of a friendship."
"You can stay here as long as you need to," Arthur said in a quiet tone. "No one knows about your affiliation with us, so no one would think to look here."
"Saito knows we know each other."
"It's not like you've spoken with him lately," Arthur pointed out. "Not to mention there are guards and all sorts of security options on this house. It only looks peaceful. I have a full staff on alert at all times when I'm here, we do daily sensor sweeps, and my secretary is constantly on alerts for mentions about me in any capacity. If your name shows up next to mine, we have time to move."
Eames blinked in surprise. "Damn. No wonder we never caught you."
Arthur smirked. "You weren't supposed to. The point is, you're off the grid now. As far as everyone's concerned, you could've been killed in Mombasa."
"Again," Eames intoned darkly.
"You surfaced last time," Arthur pointed out. "You don't have to this time."
"What are you saying?" Eames asked, looking at him in confusion.
"You can stay with us," Ariadne said, leaning across the table a little in her exuberance. "You'd be safe. You'd be with us, safe and sound, and you can go back when you're ready. You don't have to look over your shoulder so much."
It sounded tempting. God, after the past two weeks, it was so very tempting. And the serial killer he had been chasing had been an utter bitch to figure out, so he was almost thankful right now that Mayhew had someone else on that case.
"Don't make any snap decisions," Arthur said, interrupting Eames' thoughts. He got up and looked over the two of them. "In any case, I'm going to do that sensor sweep I talked about."
"Want me to come with?" Ariadne asked, looking up at Arthur.
"You can talk for a bit, if you like. I won't be long."
Eames watched the two of them kiss tenderly, only partially jealous. They had gotten so close in such a short time, and they had each other. That was the part he was jealous of. He had nothing waiting for him in London.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ariadne asked quietly. "What happened with her, I mean?"
"Darling, that's a whole lot of 'don't go there,'" he said, stirring his soup tiredly. "It was a long time ago, and I'm not even sure how much of it was real now."
"What was it then?"
Eames looked up at her with a wry smile. "We worked a lot together. Her and me and Max and Chester. Max was all business, all the time. The rest of us, we messed around some. We were a good team, and it all went to shit seven years ago."
"So you're going to tell me about it?" Ariadne prodded.
"Did you want to tell me about what it was like for you as a kid?" he returned.
She sucked in a breath and leaned back in her chair. "That painful?"
"Yeah. Especially in retrospect."
"So you loved her a lot?"
"No, actually. Not like that." He looked back at his soup. "Maybe if I did, I would have fought harder to get back to Mombasa, see if she was really dead. Maybe if I did, it wouldn't have turned out this way."
"Or maybe you'd be dead, too, and we'd never have met."
Eames looked up at her soft words. "You think?"
"You never can tell where you're going to go," she said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand tightly. He squeezed her hand back, feeling comforted that at least he had this. At least she was safe, that not everything he had ever cared for had fallen apart. Ariadne smiled at him encouragingly. "Sometimes, it's all about who you know."
His breath froze in his chest. "What?"
She frowned at his reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"
"What did you mean by that?"
"I meant that our lives change so much sometimes because of who you meet. Like with me and Arthur. Or even how fast we got to be friends." She frowned at him and grasped his arm tightly. "What did you think I meant?"
"That... Everyone there kept saying that I was being hung out to dry because of who I knew, because MI6 was scared of me. I've been off the grid for a long time. I can't imagine why everyone thinks I'm so sodding important."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Ariadne said with a shrug. "But I know that you're important to me. I'd be upset if anything happened to you."
"You have Arthur," Eames responded immediately, shaking his head and stirring his soup. "You don't need me."
"Oh, Eames." He looked up at her gusty sigh. "I want to seriously hurt whoever made you think that way," she said with a sad tone. "C'mon, eat up. I'll take you on a tour, if you want."
Eames looked at her in surprise, not sure what the hell was going on. "Ariadne..."
She got up and started rifling through cabinets. "Do you want crackers? Like those little fried noodle things they always gave us at that Chinese food place? It's not the same as getting actual food in China, but man, I miss those little cracker noodle things."
He smiled, as he was sure she wanted him to. "Crackers are fine, Ariadne."
She got a box of saltines and brought them to the table. She munched on a few as he crumbled them into his soup. It was a companionable kind of silence, one that Eames had missed more than he had realized. "He's good to you? Arthur, I mean?"
"Yeah. He really is." Ariadne shifted her seat around the table so that she could lean her head on his shoulder. "I know you worry. I'm sorry about that, really I am. I do love him, Eames." She looked up at him and looped an arm around his shoulders. "It's... complicated, I guess. Given how we met and all. But I really do love him."
"It would make for an awkward 'How We Met' story at cocktail parties, sure."
Ariadne laughed, pressing her face against his shoulder as her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. Grinning, Eames slung an arm around her shoulders. "I missed you, Ariadne. It was strange in DC without you, and even London seemed off. Which is strange, given we hadn't even known each other a long time."
"Sometimes people just click." She shrugged. "You can't explain it. But it happens." She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, her lips cool and dry against his stubble. "I'd say you and Arthur are my best friends right now. So I'm glad you're here with us. I'm glad you're all right."
Eames nodded and closed his hand over hers. "Me, too."
***
***
To chapter 6!
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU fic to the movie and a direct sequel to the Ghost Network, so you absolutely need to read that one first. There's violence, language, eventually graphic sex and torture (that will get marked) and various characters screwing with each others' heads. Also incorporates the following prompt from round 10 of the
inception_kink meme: Ariadne and Arthur have to rescue Eames from some debacle he's in.
Summary: Inspector Eames had several different roles to play in helping the British government. Not all of them were savory, and none of them were entirely safe.
Prior chapters:
One - An Impossible Request
Two - Careful What You Wish For
Three - Closing The Circle
Four - Chasing Shadows In The Dark
Mombasa was hot and teeming with people at the market. The voices blurred all around him, and Eames focused on the poker chip in his hand. He drew it across his knuckles and nearly froze when he saw Dominic Cobb seated across from him at the table.
"You shouldn't be here," Eames told him.
"Consider this a warning. It's Cobol's territory here, after all. I can't stay." He smiled, though it was soulless and empty. "You keep rubbing that chip like it'll reproduce."
Asshole. Eames lost the hand and bowed out of the game, taking his handful of remaining chips. "You're buying me a drink."
"Of course."
They sat at a table near a courtyard, and Eames ate peanuts in an almost agitated manner. "Spill."
"Eden and Shelley are going to look for you," Cobb began.
"Bullshit. They treasure their own skin more than me."
"It's a request from the Network."
Eames snorted. "Fuck you, Cobb. Assuming you're not just one of my projections."
Cobb snorted and downed his drink. "Do you know why MI6 really wants you out of the way?"
"Why don't you enlighten me?"
"It's not just what you know, it's who you know. You're Mayhew's golden child at the Yard, and your own personal network of contacts is almost legendary." Eames snorted and watched the bar rather than Cobb's earnest expression. "You're not paying attention, Eames. Why the fuck do you think you survived, seven years ago?"
Eames turned to glare at Cobb. "Nice try, asshole. Max and I got out because Calliope drew the short straw and stayed behind. No more, no less. I thought she was dead all these years."
"You were turned into a sleeper. You, Eames. Not just Milton, you. Milton's disappearance was just to draw you in, to trigger you. He's not the one that went rogue," Cobb insisted. "You did."
Eames glared at Cobb. "Now I know you're fucking with me."
"Listen to me," Cobb insisted, reaching out to grab hold of Eames' arm. He let go at Eames' glare. "Think back to what happened."
"It was a terrorist group, splintered off of Iraq. They were going to target the Crown. We couldn't allow that." Eames frowned at Cobb. "We shut them down, reported back and were debriefed. Then we were decommissioned and cut loose."
"And that didn't strike you as strange?"
"Of course it did, you pillock. But they've done worse when faced with budget cuts. Easy enough to place the blame on us." Eames drummed his fingers on the table. "Half of us died that day. They shook us loose like so much trash and had us fend for ourselves. We never stood a chance."
"Why kill off capable agents that way?" Cobb asked, squinting at Eames. "Why cut you loose when you did as they said? Your team had an amazing close rate. Why leave you for dead if you were useful to the Crown?"
He had often wondered about that. His team hadn't made too many enemies at MI6. They knew a lot of people in the field, in the intelligence community. No one had been gunning for them seven years ago.
"It's who you know, Eames. It's always been about who you know."
Eames narrowed his eyes at Cobb. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I don't know anyone important anymore."
"Don't sell yourself short, Eames," Cobb chided, his smile mercenary. "You're still important to a lot of people."
He instantly thought of Ariadne, and by extension Arthur. Max and Yusuf were his friends, and they thought he was important. Mayhew would. Shelley might miss him, but it was just business, especially after the shakedown four years ago.
"You know someone," Cobb said, sounding pleased. "Tell me."
"Of all the people to forge, Cobb really shouldn't have been it," Eames remarked. He turned toward the man sitting in front of him that was wearing Cobb's face. "He's a self-centered prick and he wouldn't be here."
Everyone in the casino turned as one and stared at Cobb. Eames saw a trickle of sweat along his hairline and liked to think it was from more than the heat. He got up slowly, backing away from the table. He was the subject, so these were his projections. Cobb wasn't reacting the same way, so Calliope had a forger doing this. Of all the people to pick, why him? He turned and walked toward the bar as the projections advanced toward Cobb, who now looked like one of the guards Calliope had with her.
"I think I'll just shoot myself in the head and wake up," Eames said lightly, heading toward the bar. "Someone's bound to have a knife I can use." He patted himself down. "Ah, yes. I always dream of this beauty," he said, lifting a gun out of his jacket pocket.
He had the gun against his temple when he thought he saw Ariadne out of the corner of his eye. Slack jawed, he put the gun away and raced after her. He knew she had to be projection, she had to be, no one in the UK would have known how important she had been to him. She was in a thin little summer dress, out of deference to the heat, her hair loose and in frizzy waves. She was with Arthur, of course, that rotter, but he accepted that. She had made her choice, and he hadn't been romantically involved with her anyway. She smiled up at him, seated at a table far from where the piss-poor forger had been. The projections at the bar were all calm again, going about their business as if nothing happened. "Why are you here?" he asked her.
"Why do you need me to be here?" she asked him back. "You tell me."
He couldn't help but smile at the way she laughed and Arthur glowered at her. "I missed you."
"Ah, so that must be it. Why not have a drink? They probably don't know he failed yet."
Eames followed her eyes to where the forger was being torn limb from limb by one of his projections. "Well, I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt."
"If he's the dreamer, this will all collapse once he wakes. Might as well enjoy it, right?" she asked, scooting over a bit in her chair to make room for him.
"True enough," he agreed. "I'm even willing to put up with you," he said, shooting an annoyed glance in Arthur's direction.
"You really shouldn't hate me so much," Arthur replied stiffly. "I'm keeping her safe from you, aren't I? Did you really think she could escape any of this if she had stayed where she was?" Arthur asked him.
Eames snagged Arthur's drink and downed it all at once. He felt the burn of the scotch and sighed. Glenfidditch. Of course he'd dream of the good stuff. "Look. You changed her mind somehow. It wasn't really her choice."
"Of course it was." His eyes were empty, and Eames felt a chill at the sight of them trained on him. "It was always her choice. You're just upset she didn't choose you."
Ariadne placed her hand on Eames' arm. "Enough. We'd talk in circles if you two keep this up."
"Ariadne," Eames said with a sigh, shaking his head. "As long as you're safe, it's all right. Mostly."
She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Eames. It means a lot to me."
Eames looked down at his hands. "I don't suppose I'll ever figure out what happened."
"I'm all right, Eames. Really. You know that. I wouldn't be so calm if I wasn't."
Everything began to shake and tremor around him. "What in blazes?"
"He's gone," Arthur said, looking over at where the forger had been. "He woke up. I guess he was the dreamer. It's all starting to collapse."
"Time to wake up," Ariadne said, pulling Eames to his feet. "Go on and get out of here if you can. You have to stay safe, or we'll never see each other again."
Her touch burned, and Eames gasped as his eyes snapped open.
He was in the cell, strapped down with an IV in his arm. It had been just a dream, after all, but he still felt the pang of loss.
"He's awake," came a familiar voice.
Brows knit, Eames turned and saw Arthur and Ariadne standing there, guns at their sides. There were five bodies in the room all around him. "Jesus Christ," Ariadne whispered, going though Milton's notes at the desk. "What were they doing?"
"Just take it and let's go. Someone's bound to notice the noise and the bodies before long," Arthur said, his voice sharp. He pulled at the bonds around Eames' arms and yanked the IV line without ceremony, taping a square of gauze to it.
"Shit, that hurts."
"Well, now you know it's real," Arthur replied stiffly. "Come on, let's go." Eames fell off of the table and Arthur had to catch him so he wouldn't hit the floor face first. "Goddammit, Eames," Arthur snarled. "We don't have much of a window here and I won't let Ariadne get caught in this because of you."
That got him to force his feet to move. "What'd they do?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and fuzzy in his mouth.
"We need to call Yusuf," Ariadne said worriedly, coming to Eames' other side. He hated that he had to lean on her tiny frame, but he couldn't make his own body work right. He dimly remembered Yusuf saying there were side effects to Milton's protocol, things that left the brain a mushy mess.
He was only dimly conscious as they left the fort, bodies strewn along the hallway. He hadn't recalled that many bodies when he had been going through the halls with Gray, but supposed that reinforcements had been called when he and Eden were caught. "Did they get away?" he rasped as Arthur manhandled him into a car. Ariadne was behind the wheel, and she drove through the streets at Arthur's direction, a map and flashlight perched in his lap.
"Who?" Ariadne asked, making a turn that led them out of Old Town.
"Eden. Shelley. I saw them kill Pascal and Gray." Eames tried to clear his head and sit up, and Arthur spun around and shoved him back down across the seat. "Oi!"
"Sit your ass down, Eames. We're not out of Kenya yet. Let's not get shot, all right?"
"Be nice," Ariadne hissed at Arthur, picking up a little speed as they got onto one of the main roads. She maneuvered them around to the highway leading to the airport. "Half his team just died, Arthur."
"I'll feel better when we're gone," Arthur replied, folding up the map. "The way's pretty straightforward from here on out." He took out his cell phone and started dialing. "I'll have the plane ready when we get there."
"I don't know where the others are," Ariadne said, risking a glance behind her. He saw the sympathetic twist to her lips and the soft light in her eyes before she turned back around. "I had Arthur keep an eye on you. I was worried."
"Sorry," Eames mumbled, his eyes falling shut. There were still sedatives in his system, and he felt groggy and sick. Fucking protocol that Milton used. "I didn't mean to. I wanted to keep you out of this." He opened his eyes and looked at Ariadne, hoping she would believe how sincere he was if she looked behind her.
"Good news is, I think that covered everyone," Arthur intoned. Ariadne shot him an annoyed look, which Eames was gratified to see. "What? That's what they wanted. They wanted to use him to kill the entire sleeper cell and didn't care who was hurt in the process. Did you really think I wanted to be part of this?"
"Arthur..."
"Wait," Eames said suddenly, jerking fully awake. "Calliope. She was there. Tall, dreads, shacked up with Milton. Did you see her?"
"Yeah," Arthur admitted, turning around to look at Eames. "Right before I shot her in the head."
"Oh." Eames settled into the backseat. "Oh."
"Girlfriend?" Arthur snarked, lip curled to needle Eames.
He was too tired to rise to the bait. He merely shook his head. "I thought she was dead. Turned out she wasn't. Fucked with me."
"You're safe now," Ariadne said firmly. She glanced at Arthur and shook her head firmly when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "Not now, Arthur, please. Let him rest. Let's just get in the air, go someplace safe and see if we need Yusuf's help to make him better."
Arthur sighed and slid his hand along her leg. "All right." He gave her leg a squeeze. "Everything will be ready. Just rest, Inspector."
"Thank you," Eames said honestly, exhaustion in his tone. "I know you didn't have to help me."
Arthur turned around to look at Eames, an almost pained expression on his face. He looked at the back of Ariadne's head, then back at Eames. "Yes, I did."
***
Eames came to in an unfamiliar bed. He had been stripped to his boxers and placed between soft sheets. The room was spare, but there was a quiet elegance about it and sunlight streaming in through gaps in the curtains on the windows. He threw the covers aside and pushed himself to a seated position, swaying a little until his head cleared. He pulled the curtain aside and looked out over a wide manicured lawn. This had to be where Arthur and Ariadne lived.
He found fresh clothes in his size in the dresser, tags still attached. He pulled them off in irritation then started wandering through the house. It was large but quietly opulent, the sort of place that would be in a decorating magazine. He heard music and followed it to its source; Arthur and Ariadne were dancing in the den, music playing on the stereo. She was in a summer dress, her legs and feet bare. Arthur was in jeans and a loose T shirt, feet also bare, his arms wrapped around Ariadne as they swayed in time to the music.
Whatever he had thought of the two of them together, tenderness hadn't really been part of it.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching them dance, but Ariadne noticed him first. She didn't pull away from Arthur, though she faltered in her step, alerting Arthur. "You're up. Thank god. It's been almost a day."
"How did I get here?" he rasped, knowing he had no totem to check if this was reality.
"One of the perks of owning my own company," Arthur began, a slightly imperious note to his voice, "is that I have my own plane. We got you out of Kenya, did a few switches to make it look like you went to South Africa, and we're actually here at my villa in Italy."
"You probably need to eat something," Ariadne said, moving forward and catching his hands in hers. "Let's fix up something you can tolerate, okay?"
It was almost comfortable with the three of them in the breakfast nook of the kitchen as Ariadne warmed up some leftover soup. She started talking about a job that she and Arthur had gotten involved in so that she could practice her architecture skills. When no judgment seemed to be forthcoming on Eames' part, Arthur seemed to unwind a little bit and stop sitting there so stiffly. Ariadne pressed a fond kiss to his cheek as she passed him to give Eames the soup, and Eames let out a little sigh.
"I suppose I should apologize," Eames began slowly, looking at Arthur. "Mind you, you're still a lying sack of shit for what you pulled at the Bureau. But you're not a dick to Ariadne."
Ariadne sighed heavily as Arthur leaned back in his chair, amused. "After all that happened, did you really think I would be?"
"You played mind games with the lot of us. What was I supposed to think?"
"I love her," Arthur said firmly as Ariadne said a quiet "Eames" to settle him down. "It was never about you, okay? It was always about keeping her safe. I didn't want her involved in the damned things they have you do." Arthur clasped Ariadne's hand tightly in his and looked from their hands to Eames. "Cobb would have broken her, you know that. He didn't care what it was doing to her. I haven't had to do anything since then. The Network's been silent, and there's been no one to look into on that front."
"All the while we were worried about her..."
"I told you, you were looking too hard for something that wasn't there," Arthur said. There wasn't any triumph in his tone; if there had been, Eames might not have been able to hold back from punching him in the face. "You couldn't see past your own perspective."
"Listen, it's done," Ariadne said firmly. "There's no point in rehashing this. It's over, and we can't go back to change anything."
Eames had missed that no nonsense way she had about her. He had missed just having someone to talk to, really, as his current partner at the Yard was an utter stick in the mud. They worked well together on cases, but there was no flair or personality, no joie de vivre. Eames really liked playing off of that.
"You're right," he admitted with a sigh, scrubbing at his jaw tiredly.
"I'm just glad you're all right," Ariadne said, reaching out to grasp his hand tightly. "You had me worried, Eames." She blinked back tears threatening to form, and Arthur rubbed her back gently in support. "You know, for a while there, I thought it was all my fault. If I'd said something sooner to let you know I was okay, I wouldn't worry you. Or instead of waiting for you to come to me this time, if I just called you and let you know I was okay. That there was nothing else going on, that we were just together because we wanted to be..."
"Listen," Eames interrupted, shaking his head. "I'm not going to break up anything that works. I just want you happy, Ariadne. You're one of the few friends I have left in the world. Which is pretty sad, if you consider we'd only known each other for about a year, right?"
Ariadne snorted. "Time isn't the measure of a friendship."
"You can stay here as long as you need to," Arthur said in a quiet tone. "No one knows about your affiliation with us, so no one would think to look here."
"Saito knows we know each other."
"It's not like you've spoken with him lately," Arthur pointed out. "Not to mention there are guards and all sorts of security options on this house. It only looks peaceful. I have a full staff on alert at all times when I'm here, we do daily sensor sweeps, and my secretary is constantly on alerts for mentions about me in any capacity. If your name shows up next to mine, we have time to move."
Eames blinked in surprise. "Damn. No wonder we never caught you."
Arthur smirked. "You weren't supposed to. The point is, you're off the grid now. As far as everyone's concerned, you could've been killed in Mombasa."
"Again," Eames intoned darkly.
"You surfaced last time," Arthur pointed out. "You don't have to this time."
"What are you saying?" Eames asked, looking at him in confusion.
"You can stay with us," Ariadne said, leaning across the table a little in her exuberance. "You'd be safe. You'd be with us, safe and sound, and you can go back when you're ready. You don't have to look over your shoulder so much."
It sounded tempting. God, after the past two weeks, it was so very tempting. And the serial killer he had been chasing had been an utter bitch to figure out, so he was almost thankful right now that Mayhew had someone else on that case.
"Don't make any snap decisions," Arthur said, interrupting Eames' thoughts. He got up and looked over the two of them. "In any case, I'm going to do that sensor sweep I talked about."
"Want me to come with?" Ariadne asked, looking up at Arthur.
"You can talk for a bit, if you like. I won't be long."
Eames watched the two of them kiss tenderly, only partially jealous. They had gotten so close in such a short time, and they had each other. That was the part he was jealous of. He had nothing waiting for him in London.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ariadne asked quietly. "What happened with her, I mean?"
"Darling, that's a whole lot of 'don't go there,'" he said, stirring his soup tiredly. "It was a long time ago, and I'm not even sure how much of it was real now."
"What was it then?"
Eames looked up at her with a wry smile. "We worked a lot together. Her and me and Max and Chester. Max was all business, all the time. The rest of us, we messed around some. We were a good team, and it all went to shit seven years ago."
"So you're going to tell me about it?" Ariadne prodded.
"Did you want to tell me about what it was like for you as a kid?" he returned.
She sucked in a breath and leaned back in her chair. "That painful?"
"Yeah. Especially in retrospect."
"So you loved her a lot?"
"No, actually. Not like that." He looked back at his soup. "Maybe if I did, I would have fought harder to get back to Mombasa, see if she was really dead. Maybe if I did, it wouldn't have turned out this way."
"Or maybe you'd be dead, too, and we'd never have met."
Eames looked up at her soft words. "You think?"
"You never can tell where you're going to go," she said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand tightly. He squeezed her hand back, feeling comforted that at least he had this. At least she was safe, that not everything he had ever cared for had fallen apart. Ariadne smiled at him encouragingly. "Sometimes, it's all about who you know."
His breath froze in his chest. "What?"
She frowned at his reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"
"What did you mean by that?"
"I meant that our lives change so much sometimes because of who you meet. Like with me and Arthur. Or even how fast we got to be friends." She frowned at him and grasped his arm tightly. "What did you think I meant?"
"That... Everyone there kept saying that I was being hung out to dry because of who I knew, because MI6 was scared of me. I've been off the grid for a long time. I can't imagine why everyone thinks I'm so sodding important."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Ariadne said with a shrug. "But I know that you're important to me. I'd be upset if anything happened to you."
"You have Arthur," Eames responded immediately, shaking his head and stirring his soup. "You don't need me."
"Oh, Eames." He looked up at her gusty sigh. "I want to seriously hurt whoever made you think that way," she said with a sad tone. "C'mon, eat up. I'll take you on a tour, if you want."
Eames looked at her in surprise, not sure what the hell was going on. "Ariadne..."
She got up and started rifling through cabinets. "Do you want crackers? Like those little fried noodle things they always gave us at that Chinese food place? It's not the same as getting actual food in China, but man, I miss those little cracker noodle things."
He smiled, as he was sure she wanted him to. "Crackers are fine, Ariadne."
She got a box of saltines and brought them to the table. She munched on a few as he crumbled them into his soup. It was a companionable kind of silence, one that Eames had missed more than he had realized. "He's good to you? Arthur, I mean?"
"Yeah. He really is." Ariadne shifted her seat around the table so that she could lean her head on his shoulder. "I know you worry. I'm sorry about that, really I am. I do love him, Eames." She looked up at him and looped an arm around his shoulders. "It's... complicated, I guess. Given how we met and all. But I really do love him."
"It would make for an awkward 'How We Met' story at cocktail parties, sure."
Ariadne laughed, pressing her face against his shoulder as her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. Grinning, Eames slung an arm around her shoulders. "I missed you, Ariadne. It was strange in DC without you, and even London seemed off. Which is strange, given we hadn't even known each other a long time."
"Sometimes people just click." She shrugged. "You can't explain it. But it happens." She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, her lips cool and dry against his stubble. "I'd say you and Arthur are my best friends right now. So I'm glad you're here with us. I'm glad you're all right."
Eames nodded and closed his hand over hers. "Me, too."
***
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To chapter 6!