Certain Dark Things, 2/6. R.
Title: Certain Dark Things
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames (eventually)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 17: Ariadne's prying ways get her in trouble over her head with some very dangerous people. Allusions to suicide and child abuse. Also for the "wild card" box on my hc_bingo card; I'm using "hostile environment."
Summary: Ariadne's first job was out of the ordinary in just about every way possible. She expected to be able to get away with her curiosity, but that wasn't going to happen.
Prior chapter:
One - Seeing The Dreaming
Eames woke Ariadne and gave her two choices: sitting in his car blindfolded or to be folded up in the trunk. She opted for the blindfold, and patiently let him tie it around her eyes and then help her into the passenger seat of his car. "No one knows about this place and I'd like to keep it that way," he said as the garage door opened.
"If you're not doing something in dream share now, what are you doing?" she asked.
"It's a long con." He didn't elaborate for a while and Ariadne didn't know how to ask for clarification. "You have no idea what that means, do you?"
"No, not really," she admitted.
Eames merely chuckled and put in a CD. His hand fell heavily onto her thigh, just above her knee. It made her twitch and her heart race, but she couldn't explain exactly why. He wouldn't harm her; there had been plenty of opportunity so far, and that wasn't his intention. "There's so much for you to learn," he murmured. "Dream share isn't everything, and sometimes you can't simply go from job to job. You're going to have to cultivate some other skills."
"Like what?"
She could almost hear the smile on his face. "Self defense, weapons skills, contacts... It helps if you have real world skills. Your imagination rules the dream world, darling, but you have to wake up sometime."
"That sounds pretty damn depressing."
"The real world isn't always a pretty place," he replied. After a moment's pause, Eames continued. "The Fischer job, as far as preparation goes, was fairly benign. It was easy, no one gunning for us, no pressure. That isn't very common. The cameraderie and trust? Not common either. There are skills we each possess, talents we bring to the table. For most, that is the only kind of relationship you will ever have. There's no friendship, no care. Just a word out that certain people are trustworthy, certain ones have the skill you need, certain ones should be protected at all costs."
"I still think that's archaic."
"Most organizations like that are."
Ariadne turned her blindfolded face toward Eames' voice. "Why do you stay in it?"
He chuckled. "Looking for me to convince you to go?"
"If it's so dangerous, why stay?" she pressed. "What do you get out of it?"
"It's a personal question, darling."
"I wouldn't think so."
"Oh, but it is. Asking someone why they dream is like asking someone what their natural dreams used to be like. It's intensely personal, very private." He squeezed her knee and removed his hand; she immediately missed his warmth but couldn't say why. "You offer your reasons so quickly, but you're an innocent in the field. You have a very romantic notion of what we do and what the field can be."
"Is it very different, then?"
Eames snorted. "There are some who think this is worse than ordinary theft. After all, we invade minds, rifle about in their contents, reshuffle them sometimes, and in the Fischer case we added bits that really didn't belong. There are those who think it's the worst sort of ethical violation, akin to rape." He took in her still form with a thoughtful expression. "What did you think we were doing, Ariadne? What did you think that was all about?"
"Cobb said it was his way home, to be with his children again. We weren't hurting anyone."
"And Fischer broke apart his inheritance, Cobb is in America and no one ever heard from him again. There is that. It was a successful job in that respect. But did you think about what we actually did? That we broke apart a man's mind, invaded his life and altered the course of his future. There are many who believe people like us should never have that kind of power, and that the technology should never have been corrupted this way."
Ariadne had the feeling that he never discussed these kinds of thoughts with others. "What do you believe?" she asked quietly.
"People like us live in shades of gray, Ariadne. There are no absolutes, no morality, no ethics. It's a shifting sand beneath our feet. What is allowable on one day isn't on the next, and not many are comfortable with that."
"You become other people in dreams," she said slowly. "And you didn't answer my question."
"Didn't I?" he asked archly. "Perhaps it just wasn't the answer you wanted to hear."
Frowning, Ariadne faced forward even though she couldn't see what was surrounding her. "So what's a long con?"
Eames laughed. "If you can't go in headlong, you'll take a side route?"
"Something like that," she replied sourly.
"Works on a job, but not all the time in the real world. I should know. It's a tactic I take all the time myself." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "A long con is basically a more intensive form of a con. Mostly by becoming someone else for a while, until it's time to get the payoff in motion. Needless to say, I'm working at the moment."
"And you took time to help me," Ariadne murmured.
"I happen to be fond of you, Ariadne," he admitted. "You're a refreshing change in the field, and talented. And now you owe me a rather large favor," Eames added with an audible smile in his voice. "Can't say I wanted to pass that one up. A lot of times in the field, it all comes down to who you know and what they owe you."
"Is that how Cobb got you for the Fischer job?"
"Oh, no. That was selfish interest. To do inception is rather like climbing Everest. People dream of it, but few attempt it and fewer still actually even accomplish it. I do like a challenge, darling."
The warmth in his voice was genuine, and for a moment Ariadne thought she could fall under its spell. But then the fact that she couldn't see him crashed down over her, and she sighed. "So this is the job? Owing people favors and being on the run from each other as well as the law?"
"Sometimes," Eames agreed.
"It's sad, isn't it?" she asked softly.
"Only if you make it that way," he replied in a similar tone of voice.
Not knowing what to say in reply, she lapsed into silence.
***
Ariadne didn't hear from Eames again for about a month. She heard from Arthur right away; he rather disapproved of her reckless way of entering peoples' dreams. Like Eames, he made a thoughtful sound once she explained how she had done that with Cobb and was there to help the team once she discovered how virulent Mal could be. "Shades are rare," Arthur said finally. "Not everyone has them. Everyone does have their own secrets, and it's not your place to force them to tell you everything." He blew out a breath. "I can head back to Paris, if you want. I'm not working on anything right now, and we can work on your security measures."
"You heard?"
"Eames sent me a text. He knew I was worried about you."
"He said you feel responsible for me."
Arthur didn't respond right away. "I thought you would go back to school. I hoped, anyway. I should have known better when you came back. You had the opportunity to leave, but you didn't take it. The price on your head was as much my fault as it was yours. I should have prepared you better, should have explained things better."
"Eames painted a pretty bleak picture," Ariadne admitted.
"He would," Arthur agreed. "We all get into dream sharing for different reasons, Ariadne," he said, his voice softening. "But we all stay because of the thrill of the chase, because we love the challenge of doing the impossible and making it work. It's work to stay in it sometimes, because of the very nature of the job. We don't exist. We can't. Nothing we're doing is in any way legal, so there's no legal recourse if something goes wrong. That's the reality of it. Even if it's a corporate hire, we're expendable resources. We give them plausible deniability."
"Can you tell me something, then?"
"If I can," Arthur said, a smile in his voice. He was pleased that there was a measure of caution in her tone, rather than just barging ahead as she used to do.
"What's your reason for staying?"
"You said it," Arthur replied easily. "There's nothing else like it. Nothing else gives me that challenge, and there are no better puzzles to solve than how to get it done." He paused. "But with my background, I can keep up. You were a civilian until a year ago. So there's a little catching up for you to do if you're going to stay."
"Not going to tell me to leave?"
"Would you listen to me if I told you leave?"
"Probably not," Ariadne admitted ruefully.
Arthur laughed warmly. "There's nothing more infectious than an idea. Dom said it all the time, and it's true. So if you're going to stay, you're going to have to learn the ins and outs of how we work. You're going to have to figure out how to stay alive and valuable, and build a network of contacts. Eames and I are a start, but it can't be just us. We're freelancers at this point, no steady team. As an architect, you'll want a team. Otherwise, jobs can be few and far between."
"I'm ready whenever you are."
"I thought you would be."
Arthur arrived at her apartment in Paris the next day, looking a little rumpled but otherwise just the same as the last time she had seen him in person. He hugged her tightly, grinning down at her tiny frame. "It's good to see you," he said with a smile.
They talked about the things they had done since the Fischer job; they'd talked on the phone, of course, but it felt new talking about it in person. Arthur approved of the range time that Ariadne had started to put in at his recommendation, and his eyes swept through her apartment almost reflexively. "So? How horrible is my defense?" she asked in a teasing voice.
Arthur laughed. "We'll get it better, don't worry."
He slept on her couch and left her in her bedroom for the evening. He didn't always sleep well, and he planned to use the time awake to come up with viable plans for her home defense and getting her better integrated into dream share. Ariadne wasn't very surprised to wake up and see him surrounded by a few notebooks, pads of paper and his open laptop while he was dressed only in pajama bottoms. "You are an incurable workaholic," she teased, smothering her yawn with her hand. "Coffee?"
"Please," he said appreciatively, pointing to his mug. "I've finished the last pot I made."
Ariadne set everything to start brewing, then sat down on her couch beside him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"A few hours," Arthur said absently. "Jet lag messed things up a bit."
"You were in the US again?" she asked, looking over at his scrawled notes.
"Mm-hm. Visiting family for a bit." He could almost feel her curiosity burning, but waited until she had poured out some coffee for the both of them. "My sister thinks I'm a security consultant."
"That's believable."
"You're still close to your mother?" Arthur asked.
"Reasonably so. I can't tell her anything about this, of course. I had to tell her I was burning out and slowed down my credit load."
"Once you get your degree, you won't have that excuse. So..." He indicated the different pads where he was putting together a sham architecture firm that she could be the employee of. "I'm sure Dom or I could supply whatever references you need if you need anything legitimate."
Ariadne blinked in surprise. "My mother wouldn't need proof like that."
"No, but if you do any legitimate work, you would." He smiled at her stunned expression. "Have more coffee. It'll make sense once you're more awake."
He wordlessly organized his pads and notebooks and checked his e-mail as she finished her mug of coffee. "I'd have multiple identities to maintain," she said slowly. "Different names out there like Eames does."
"Like I do," Arthur said with a half smile. "You didn't think Arthur was my real name, did you?"
She blinked in surprise, not sure what to say in response. "Oh."
"There's a family and a military record under my real name," he told her. "Arthur's comfortable for this work, and I have documents in a few others to keep authorities guessing. I can help you set up the same kind of system."
"Thank you," she murmured. "So this company here..."
Arthur grinned and nodded. "I've been spending some time creating a paper trail for it. Funding, that sort of thing. If anyone looks it up, it looks like a legitimate small business, making enough money to keep it afloat. Nothing flashy, nothing dangerous. That's just the sort of thing a worried mother would feel comfortable with." Ariadne laughed, and he smiled wide enough for a dimple to show. "If it passes the worried mother test, you're good for any legitimate work you might be interested in doing. Not to mention it's a great cover if you ever have to go into places to look at buildings. Just present a card, and it's immediate cachet."
"So that's how you get into places."
"One of the ways. I have contacts high and low, and I'm pretty good with networks." He smiled at her again, a little softer. "I do what I need to do, and I plan for eventual problems."
"Like my mother."
"Like your mother." He shrugged. "I had some of this outlined a year ago, but I'd hoped I wouldn't have to put it into play. You're not vicious, Ariadne." He held up a hand to forestall her impending comments. "That's not a criticism. It's a fact. You couldn't go somewhere and cold bloodedly kill someone. You couldn't walk into a room and raze its contents to the ground. That's not in your nature."
"So how do I change that?" she asked quietly.
Arthur shook his head at her. "It's not about changing who you are. It's knowing who you are and making it work. Your role isn't a vicious one either, so it's all right. You don't have to be. You have to learn to defend yourself, but that's a different mindset."
"What does this mean for me on a practical level?"
He grinned. "If there's one thing about you that's helpful, it's that you're flexible enough to roll with things. It means, you get to continue doing what you love, and we have different layers of security in place to keep aspects of your life safe. You'll need a name other than Ariadne for dream work, probably, but we'll figure that one out." He sobered slightly. "I'll probably stay close to Paris for a while, just to be on the safe side."
"Because of Aranov?"
"He's the most visible target. He's hardly the only one, however. Most in the field wouldn't be a danger to others in the field unless there's a personal vendetta. Aranov is a twofold risk, though. He's a heavy hitter in the Russian mafia that's been trying to corner the dream share field in Eastern Europe for years and he's also the major contributor to various political groups. So he wants to collect minds that will work for him and he also wants to take down the competition politically. Most in the field stay the hell away from him for their own safety."
Ariadne absorbed that and then looked at Arthur. "Anyone think to incept him?"
Arthur laughed. "I'm sure they have. But remember, it's supposed to be impossible."
"Supposed to be."
He shook his head, laughing. "Something like that is fragile and there's much too much risk involved for any team going in. Incepting Aranov is not an option."
"Too bad," Ariadne sighed. "If I'm about to sink into some kind ethical quagmire, shouldn't I get some benefit out of it?"
Arthur patted her shoulder. "I'm sure you will once things settle down. It shouldn't take too long. He's constantly looking for the next big thing, so there's bound to be word of someone else that will capture his interest before long."
The thought of someone else coming along was disheartening and uplifting at once. She didn't want to be so easily dismissed, but if Aranov was that dangerous, she didn't want to be snatched up like some kind of prize. "How do you live like this?" she asked softly. "Isn't it hard?"
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Arthur nodded. "It can be. But that's where friends in the field are important. Those connections are vital, and become another family. Families aren't just of blood, you know. They're born of friendship, too."
Ariadne smiled at him and patted his leg affectionately. "Thanks, Arthur. I really appreciate it."
"You're very welcome."
She let him take a shower first as she started getting things together for breakfast. She had a lot to think about.
***
Ariadne was admiring her formal business cards when there was a knock on the door. Arthur had left the week before; there were rumors of a brilliant architecture student in Chechnya that could possibly be drafted into dream share from school, and Aranov had left Eastern Europe on the first flight he could arrange. Once there were confirmations of him touching down and making arrangements to meet the student, Arthur felt that Ariadne was safely off of Aranov's radar. He would neither confirm nor deny that he was involved in the rumors about the poor student, but she appreciated his help just the same.
She tried not to think about the wreck the young man would become if the rumors about Aranov were true.
Checking the alarm system for any warnings, she found none. She looked through the hidden peep hole to the side of the door and saw Eames standing there, so she sighed and opened the door. It had been a month since he deposited her at the airport with her bag, and he had made no attempts to contact her. On the other hand, she hadn't made any attempts to contact him, either. She didn't have the easy camaraderie with him that she had with Arthur. Hell, she had an easier time talking to Yusuf and they had nothing in common but the Fischer job. They traded e-mails about weather and travel and his cats, and he was very glad to have worked with her. Yusuf had offered her a place to stay in Mombasa if she ever visited Kenya.
"Hello, darling," Eames drawled, leaning against her door frame as if he had every right to be there. "Let me in."
"What if I don't feel like talking to you?" she challenged, jaw thrust out.
His eyes flashed in amusement. "Really?"
"I've learned caution," she told him loftily.
"Yes, you have," Eames replied approvingly. "I've even talked to Verick. He's cautious, but at least he hasn't passed complete judgment against you. Assuming you'd like to work with his team again, that is. This latest architect someone referred to them is an arsehole, and I told him so."
"Why are you really here, Eames?" she asked, not unkindly. She was curious. No phone calls and now here he was as if he belonged at her side.
"Business, of course. I'd rather not discuss details out in the open where your innocent neighbors might overhear something they really shouldn't, but I'm not the one that lives here whose reputation might get tarnished." His smile was charming; he knew he was right, and knew that Ariadne wouldn't keep him out forever.
She let him in, wondering why she felt so ungrateful to him. He had stuck his neck out for her, doing her a favor when she didn't even know she was getting into trouble. The dream share field was a tangled one, and she was only starting to get a feeling for how hostile it could be. Eames could have left her to twist on her own to learn the hard way. Perhaps it was the way he had mentioned that she owed him a favor, the delighted smile on his face when he seemed to contemplate the fact that she would have to help him, like it or not. Arthur did her favors and never once threw it in her face; she would gladly help him out if he ever asked for it, and she knew that he would never demand something she couldn't give. That was probably the difference; if there was manipulation on Arthur's part, it was subtle and based on friendship. Eames had the attitude that she should be inherently grateful, but there didn't seem to be room for any friends within the business model for him. He likely kept friends and business associates separate, but he had seemed to like her before. He'd even said he was fond of her. Didn't that imply friendship instead of simply a business contact?
Eames' eyes swept around her apartment, taking in the lived in feel of it, the clutter of books and movies and music all over, as well as stacks of notebooks and journals that were her way of keeping up to date with architectural theory and design. It was an eclectic kind of place, with mismatched and worn furniture. "College chic," he commented.
She remembered the dark woods and deep jewel tones of his bedroom. It had contrasted with the plain and unadorned guest room she had slept in. "It fits the persona."
That caught his attention, and his lips quirked into a smile. "Does it now?"
"Ariadne is about to graduate and be formally hired on at an architecture firm. It wouldn't do to have a lot of casual wealth."
"So Ariadne is a persona now?"
"One of them."
His eyes were dancing with amusement. "So Arthur finally stepped up to the plate and actually discussed what it takes to stay in the field."
"He gave a few pointers, yes. But it's my decision to stay, and it's going to be my own abilities that keep me here, not his."
"True, true. They are very spectacular abilities, yes."
His smile was too smooth, too practiced. Ariadne had the feeling he was wearing one of his con faces, and that she was the mark. It was unsettling, and it made her cross her arms over her chest in distaste. "I'm sure you had a point in coming to visit me, Eames. You haven't called, written or otherwise made any contact with me."
"You haven't, either," he pointed out.
"I already thanked you for saving my life. You've pointed out you'll make me pay for it."
"A favor. Quid pro quo. It's very common in our line of work."
"Is that why you're here right now?" she asked, suddenly feeling tired of dancing around the subject of his presence in Paris. She had defended her thesis already, and Arthur had been appropriately supportive. She had been rather disappointed that there hadn't been more than that, but it was pretty much the story of her life. She was always someone's friend, never really the romantic interest. Her work ethic was off putting in the past, but she suspected that for Arthur it was a question of safety for them both, as well not having tighter ties within the business. It can be lonely, he'd told her, but you figure out what's important to you. Those are the parts you keep, and everything else you let go. It's the only way to stay sane.
Eames' smile was sharp, but not uncomfortably so. "You always were very quick on the uptake, Ariadne. I do appreciate that."
"I'm not going by Ariadne for dream share anymore," she said quietly.
"Really?" Eames asked, blinking in surprise. Ariadne wondered if she really should have felt as pleased as she did for startling him.
"I've contacted the people I've worked with, even Verick. I said there were problems with the name, and they shouldn't use it anymore." Ariadne looked at him evenly, seeing if he would challenge her. When he didn't, she smiled. "Protection in the field is important, after all."
"That it is," he told her approvingly. Eames swept forward and took over her couch, legs sprawled and arms draped over the back and arm of it. He looked even more massive somehow, even if he was the one seated and she was standing up. He knew how to move, how to work his physique to his advantage. Ariadne wasn't going to underestimate him, but it had been a month and it was easy to forget something like that. He still dressed to hide that solid bulk of muscle, still tried to get others to underestimate his physical presence and intellectual skills. It was like a mask he slipped over his face, or like an actor inhabiting a new persona.
"You're not going to ask me what name I used?"
"I rather think you'd tell me if you wanted me to use it," Eames drawled.
"Clare Dunham. It's a solid identity in case it's ever put up against a background check."
"And we are all to assume that the Ariadne name was compromised because of Aranov?"
"Seems like good enough timing, doesn't it?"
"Good use of resources, darling," Eames said, approval clear in his tone. "I suppose our Arthur helped set that up for you."
"He did."
"Good man," Eames said with a nod. "On his way back stateside, or is he still in Europe?"
Arthur had mentioned exactly where he was headed, but Ariadne gave him a negligent shrug. "I don't know. He'll land on his feet, no matter where he goes."
If anything, the lie made Eames smile even wider. "Oh, you're going to be good."
"What are you talking about?"
"Arthur told me he's on his way to Dublin. You're safe, so I don't have to be on the alert quite so much now." He laughed at her dubious expression. "We've both taken a shine to you, Ariadne." He gave a dramatic pause. "I'm sorry, Clare. So we keep in touch where you're concerned and make sure that you don't wind up dead because of us."
"You feel that obligated?"
Eames shrugged and brushed nonexistent lint from his sleeve. "Genuine talent is a very rare find. Rarer still is the one that we truly enjoy the company of. Some in the field are just complete boors, and others are utter wankers. Can't have it all, sorry to say."
"And you?"
"What about me?"
Ariadne resisted the urge to throw something at his head. "Where do you fit?"
"A very talented arsehole that few can tolerate, but sooner or later they come to anyway." He flashed her a wicked grin. "I prefer that reputation, honestly. Fewer cockups if they already expect me to cut and run if it gets too hot."
Ariadne remembered Eames planning to sit out the first level and hide from Fischer's projections when he first heard about the threat of limbo. "Do you do that often?"
Something flashed in his eyes. "That would be telling."
"You can tell me."
Eames studied her and she returned his gaze without flinching. "Yes, I suppose I can. You never did say what you got from Verick, and he has been waiting a long time for the other shoe to drop from you. And you weren't completely surprised by Cobb, meaning you knew some of it. So you collect secrets very well."
She waited, staring him down. She resisted the urge to speak; saying anything now might disturb the balance between them.
Eames let out a breath. "I've left twice. Exactly twice in all of my dream share work. I am a professional, no matter what Arthur may say."
"Thank you for telling me," Ariadne said in quiet tones. "Now can you tell me what you're really doing here?"
His smile was downright mercenary. "With pleasure, dear Clare. It seems that I need to call in that favor you owe me."
***
***
Off to chapter three...
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames (eventually)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the inception_kink meme prompt in round 17: Ariadne's prying ways get her in trouble over her head with some very dangerous people. Allusions to suicide and child abuse. Also for the "wild card" box on my hc_bingo card; I'm using "hostile environment."
Summary: Ariadne's first job was out of the ordinary in just about every way possible. She expected to be able to get away with her curiosity, but that wasn't going to happen.
Prior chapter:
One - Seeing The Dreaming
Eames woke Ariadne and gave her two choices: sitting in his car blindfolded or to be folded up in the trunk. She opted for the blindfold, and patiently let him tie it around her eyes and then help her into the passenger seat of his car. "No one knows about this place and I'd like to keep it that way," he said as the garage door opened.
"If you're not doing something in dream share now, what are you doing?" she asked.
"It's a long con." He didn't elaborate for a while and Ariadne didn't know how to ask for clarification. "You have no idea what that means, do you?"
"No, not really," she admitted.
Eames merely chuckled and put in a CD. His hand fell heavily onto her thigh, just above her knee. It made her twitch and her heart race, but she couldn't explain exactly why. He wouldn't harm her; there had been plenty of opportunity so far, and that wasn't his intention. "There's so much for you to learn," he murmured. "Dream share isn't everything, and sometimes you can't simply go from job to job. You're going to have to cultivate some other skills."
"Like what?"
She could almost hear the smile on his face. "Self defense, weapons skills, contacts... It helps if you have real world skills. Your imagination rules the dream world, darling, but you have to wake up sometime."
"That sounds pretty damn depressing."
"The real world isn't always a pretty place," he replied. After a moment's pause, Eames continued. "The Fischer job, as far as preparation goes, was fairly benign. It was easy, no one gunning for us, no pressure. That isn't very common. The cameraderie and trust? Not common either. There are skills we each possess, talents we bring to the table. For most, that is the only kind of relationship you will ever have. There's no friendship, no care. Just a word out that certain people are trustworthy, certain ones have the skill you need, certain ones should be protected at all costs."
"I still think that's archaic."
"Most organizations like that are."
Ariadne turned her blindfolded face toward Eames' voice. "Why do you stay in it?"
He chuckled. "Looking for me to convince you to go?"
"If it's so dangerous, why stay?" she pressed. "What do you get out of it?"
"It's a personal question, darling."
"I wouldn't think so."
"Oh, but it is. Asking someone why they dream is like asking someone what their natural dreams used to be like. It's intensely personal, very private." He squeezed her knee and removed his hand; she immediately missed his warmth but couldn't say why. "You offer your reasons so quickly, but you're an innocent in the field. You have a very romantic notion of what we do and what the field can be."
"Is it very different, then?"
Eames snorted. "There are some who think this is worse than ordinary theft. After all, we invade minds, rifle about in their contents, reshuffle them sometimes, and in the Fischer case we added bits that really didn't belong. There are those who think it's the worst sort of ethical violation, akin to rape." He took in her still form with a thoughtful expression. "What did you think we were doing, Ariadne? What did you think that was all about?"
"Cobb said it was his way home, to be with his children again. We weren't hurting anyone."
"And Fischer broke apart his inheritance, Cobb is in America and no one ever heard from him again. There is that. It was a successful job in that respect. But did you think about what we actually did? That we broke apart a man's mind, invaded his life and altered the course of his future. There are many who believe people like us should never have that kind of power, and that the technology should never have been corrupted this way."
Ariadne had the feeling that he never discussed these kinds of thoughts with others. "What do you believe?" she asked quietly.
"People like us live in shades of gray, Ariadne. There are no absolutes, no morality, no ethics. It's a shifting sand beneath our feet. What is allowable on one day isn't on the next, and not many are comfortable with that."
"You become other people in dreams," she said slowly. "And you didn't answer my question."
"Didn't I?" he asked archly. "Perhaps it just wasn't the answer you wanted to hear."
Frowning, Ariadne faced forward even though she couldn't see what was surrounding her. "So what's a long con?"
Eames laughed. "If you can't go in headlong, you'll take a side route?"
"Something like that," she replied sourly.
"Works on a job, but not all the time in the real world. I should know. It's a tactic I take all the time myself." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "A long con is basically a more intensive form of a con. Mostly by becoming someone else for a while, until it's time to get the payoff in motion. Needless to say, I'm working at the moment."
"And you took time to help me," Ariadne murmured.
"I happen to be fond of you, Ariadne," he admitted. "You're a refreshing change in the field, and talented. And now you owe me a rather large favor," Eames added with an audible smile in his voice. "Can't say I wanted to pass that one up. A lot of times in the field, it all comes down to who you know and what they owe you."
"Is that how Cobb got you for the Fischer job?"
"Oh, no. That was selfish interest. To do inception is rather like climbing Everest. People dream of it, but few attempt it and fewer still actually even accomplish it. I do like a challenge, darling."
The warmth in his voice was genuine, and for a moment Ariadne thought she could fall under its spell. But then the fact that she couldn't see him crashed down over her, and she sighed. "So this is the job? Owing people favors and being on the run from each other as well as the law?"
"Sometimes," Eames agreed.
"It's sad, isn't it?" she asked softly.
"Only if you make it that way," he replied in a similar tone of voice.
Not knowing what to say in reply, she lapsed into silence.
***
Ariadne didn't hear from Eames again for about a month. She heard from Arthur right away; he rather disapproved of her reckless way of entering peoples' dreams. Like Eames, he made a thoughtful sound once she explained how she had done that with Cobb and was there to help the team once she discovered how virulent Mal could be. "Shades are rare," Arthur said finally. "Not everyone has them. Everyone does have their own secrets, and it's not your place to force them to tell you everything." He blew out a breath. "I can head back to Paris, if you want. I'm not working on anything right now, and we can work on your security measures."
"You heard?"
"Eames sent me a text. He knew I was worried about you."
"He said you feel responsible for me."
Arthur didn't respond right away. "I thought you would go back to school. I hoped, anyway. I should have known better when you came back. You had the opportunity to leave, but you didn't take it. The price on your head was as much my fault as it was yours. I should have prepared you better, should have explained things better."
"Eames painted a pretty bleak picture," Ariadne admitted.
"He would," Arthur agreed. "We all get into dream sharing for different reasons, Ariadne," he said, his voice softening. "But we all stay because of the thrill of the chase, because we love the challenge of doing the impossible and making it work. It's work to stay in it sometimes, because of the very nature of the job. We don't exist. We can't. Nothing we're doing is in any way legal, so there's no legal recourse if something goes wrong. That's the reality of it. Even if it's a corporate hire, we're expendable resources. We give them plausible deniability."
"Can you tell me something, then?"
"If I can," Arthur said, a smile in his voice. He was pleased that there was a measure of caution in her tone, rather than just barging ahead as she used to do.
"What's your reason for staying?"
"You said it," Arthur replied easily. "There's nothing else like it. Nothing else gives me that challenge, and there are no better puzzles to solve than how to get it done." He paused. "But with my background, I can keep up. You were a civilian until a year ago. So there's a little catching up for you to do if you're going to stay."
"Not going to tell me to leave?"
"Would you listen to me if I told you leave?"
"Probably not," Ariadne admitted ruefully.
Arthur laughed warmly. "There's nothing more infectious than an idea. Dom said it all the time, and it's true. So if you're going to stay, you're going to have to learn the ins and outs of how we work. You're going to have to figure out how to stay alive and valuable, and build a network of contacts. Eames and I are a start, but it can't be just us. We're freelancers at this point, no steady team. As an architect, you'll want a team. Otherwise, jobs can be few and far between."
"I'm ready whenever you are."
"I thought you would be."
Arthur arrived at her apartment in Paris the next day, looking a little rumpled but otherwise just the same as the last time she had seen him in person. He hugged her tightly, grinning down at her tiny frame. "It's good to see you," he said with a smile.
They talked about the things they had done since the Fischer job; they'd talked on the phone, of course, but it felt new talking about it in person. Arthur approved of the range time that Ariadne had started to put in at his recommendation, and his eyes swept through her apartment almost reflexively. "So? How horrible is my defense?" she asked in a teasing voice.
Arthur laughed. "We'll get it better, don't worry."
He slept on her couch and left her in her bedroom for the evening. He didn't always sleep well, and he planned to use the time awake to come up with viable plans for her home defense and getting her better integrated into dream share. Ariadne wasn't very surprised to wake up and see him surrounded by a few notebooks, pads of paper and his open laptop while he was dressed only in pajama bottoms. "You are an incurable workaholic," she teased, smothering her yawn with her hand. "Coffee?"
"Please," he said appreciatively, pointing to his mug. "I've finished the last pot I made."
Ariadne set everything to start brewing, then sat down on her couch beside him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"A few hours," Arthur said absently. "Jet lag messed things up a bit."
"You were in the US again?" she asked, looking over at his scrawled notes.
"Mm-hm. Visiting family for a bit." He could almost feel her curiosity burning, but waited until she had poured out some coffee for the both of them. "My sister thinks I'm a security consultant."
"That's believable."
"You're still close to your mother?" Arthur asked.
"Reasonably so. I can't tell her anything about this, of course. I had to tell her I was burning out and slowed down my credit load."
"Once you get your degree, you won't have that excuse. So..." He indicated the different pads where he was putting together a sham architecture firm that she could be the employee of. "I'm sure Dom or I could supply whatever references you need if you need anything legitimate."
Ariadne blinked in surprise. "My mother wouldn't need proof like that."
"No, but if you do any legitimate work, you would." He smiled at her stunned expression. "Have more coffee. It'll make sense once you're more awake."
He wordlessly organized his pads and notebooks and checked his e-mail as she finished her mug of coffee. "I'd have multiple identities to maintain," she said slowly. "Different names out there like Eames does."
"Like I do," Arthur said with a half smile. "You didn't think Arthur was my real name, did you?"
She blinked in surprise, not sure what to say in response. "Oh."
"There's a family and a military record under my real name," he told her. "Arthur's comfortable for this work, and I have documents in a few others to keep authorities guessing. I can help you set up the same kind of system."
"Thank you," she murmured. "So this company here..."
Arthur grinned and nodded. "I've been spending some time creating a paper trail for it. Funding, that sort of thing. If anyone looks it up, it looks like a legitimate small business, making enough money to keep it afloat. Nothing flashy, nothing dangerous. That's just the sort of thing a worried mother would feel comfortable with." Ariadne laughed, and he smiled wide enough for a dimple to show. "If it passes the worried mother test, you're good for any legitimate work you might be interested in doing. Not to mention it's a great cover if you ever have to go into places to look at buildings. Just present a card, and it's immediate cachet."
"So that's how you get into places."
"One of the ways. I have contacts high and low, and I'm pretty good with networks." He smiled at her again, a little softer. "I do what I need to do, and I plan for eventual problems."
"Like my mother."
"Like your mother." He shrugged. "I had some of this outlined a year ago, but I'd hoped I wouldn't have to put it into play. You're not vicious, Ariadne." He held up a hand to forestall her impending comments. "That's not a criticism. It's a fact. You couldn't go somewhere and cold bloodedly kill someone. You couldn't walk into a room and raze its contents to the ground. That's not in your nature."
"So how do I change that?" she asked quietly.
Arthur shook his head at her. "It's not about changing who you are. It's knowing who you are and making it work. Your role isn't a vicious one either, so it's all right. You don't have to be. You have to learn to defend yourself, but that's a different mindset."
"What does this mean for me on a practical level?"
He grinned. "If there's one thing about you that's helpful, it's that you're flexible enough to roll with things. It means, you get to continue doing what you love, and we have different layers of security in place to keep aspects of your life safe. You'll need a name other than Ariadne for dream work, probably, but we'll figure that one out." He sobered slightly. "I'll probably stay close to Paris for a while, just to be on the safe side."
"Because of Aranov?"
"He's the most visible target. He's hardly the only one, however. Most in the field wouldn't be a danger to others in the field unless there's a personal vendetta. Aranov is a twofold risk, though. He's a heavy hitter in the Russian mafia that's been trying to corner the dream share field in Eastern Europe for years and he's also the major contributor to various political groups. So he wants to collect minds that will work for him and he also wants to take down the competition politically. Most in the field stay the hell away from him for their own safety."
Ariadne absorbed that and then looked at Arthur. "Anyone think to incept him?"
Arthur laughed. "I'm sure they have. But remember, it's supposed to be impossible."
"Supposed to be."
He shook his head, laughing. "Something like that is fragile and there's much too much risk involved for any team going in. Incepting Aranov is not an option."
"Too bad," Ariadne sighed. "If I'm about to sink into some kind ethical quagmire, shouldn't I get some benefit out of it?"
Arthur patted her shoulder. "I'm sure you will once things settle down. It shouldn't take too long. He's constantly looking for the next big thing, so there's bound to be word of someone else that will capture his interest before long."
The thought of someone else coming along was disheartening and uplifting at once. She didn't want to be so easily dismissed, but if Aranov was that dangerous, she didn't want to be snatched up like some kind of prize. "How do you live like this?" she asked softly. "Isn't it hard?"
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Arthur nodded. "It can be. But that's where friends in the field are important. Those connections are vital, and become another family. Families aren't just of blood, you know. They're born of friendship, too."
Ariadne smiled at him and patted his leg affectionately. "Thanks, Arthur. I really appreciate it."
"You're very welcome."
She let him take a shower first as she started getting things together for breakfast. She had a lot to think about.
***
Ariadne was admiring her formal business cards when there was a knock on the door. Arthur had left the week before; there were rumors of a brilliant architecture student in Chechnya that could possibly be drafted into dream share from school, and Aranov had left Eastern Europe on the first flight he could arrange. Once there were confirmations of him touching down and making arrangements to meet the student, Arthur felt that Ariadne was safely off of Aranov's radar. He would neither confirm nor deny that he was involved in the rumors about the poor student, but she appreciated his help just the same.
She tried not to think about the wreck the young man would become if the rumors about Aranov were true.
Checking the alarm system for any warnings, she found none. She looked through the hidden peep hole to the side of the door and saw Eames standing there, so she sighed and opened the door. It had been a month since he deposited her at the airport with her bag, and he had made no attempts to contact her. On the other hand, she hadn't made any attempts to contact him, either. She didn't have the easy camaraderie with him that she had with Arthur. Hell, she had an easier time talking to Yusuf and they had nothing in common but the Fischer job. They traded e-mails about weather and travel and his cats, and he was very glad to have worked with her. Yusuf had offered her a place to stay in Mombasa if she ever visited Kenya.
"Hello, darling," Eames drawled, leaning against her door frame as if he had every right to be there. "Let me in."
"What if I don't feel like talking to you?" she challenged, jaw thrust out.
His eyes flashed in amusement. "Really?"
"I've learned caution," she told him loftily.
"Yes, you have," Eames replied approvingly. "I've even talked to Verick. He's cautious, but at least he hasn't passed complete judgment against you. Assuming you'd like to work with his team again, that is. This latest architect someone referred to them is an arsehole, and I told him so."
"Why are you really here, Eames?" she asked, not unkindly. She was curious. No phone calls and now here he was as if he belonged at her side.
"Business, of course. I'd rather not discuss details out in the open where your innocent neighbors might overhear something they really shouldn't, but I'm not the one that lives here whose reputation might get tarnished." His smile was charming; he knew he was right, and knew that Ariadne wouldn't keep him out forever.
She let him in, wondering why she felt so ungrateful to him. He had stuck his neck out for her, doing her a favor when she didn't even know she was getting into trouble. The dream share field was a tangled one, and she was only starting to get a feeling for how hostile it could be. Eames could have left her to twist on her own to learn the hard way. Perhaps it was the way he had mentioned that she owed him a favor, the delighted smile on his face when he seemed to contemplate the fact that she would have to help him, like it or not. Arthur did her favors and never once threw it in her face; she would gladly help him out if he ever asked for it, and she knew that he would never demand something she couldn't give. That was probably the difference; if there was manipulation on Arthur's part, it was subtle and based on friendship. Eames had the attitude that she should be inherently grateful, but there didn't seem to be room for any friends within the business model for him. He likely kept friends and business associates separate, but he had seemed to like her before. He'd even said he was fond of her. Didn't that imply friendship instead of simply a business contact?
Eames' eyes swept around her apartment, taking in the lived in feel of it, the clutter of books and movies and music all over, as well as stacks of notebooks and journals that were her way of keeping up to date with architectural theory and design. It was an eclectic kind of place, with mismatched and worn furniture. "College chic," he commented.
She remembered the dark woods and deep jewel tones of his bedroom. It had contrasted with the plain and unadorned guest room she had slept in. "It fits the persona."
That caught his attention, and his lips quirked into a smile. "Does it now?"
"Ariadne is about to graduate and be formally hired on at an architecture firm. It wouldn't do to have a lot of casual wealth."
"So Ariadne is a persona now?"
"One of them."
His eyes were dancing with amusement. "So Arthur finally stepped up to the plate and actually discussed what it takes to stay in the field."
"He gave a few pointers, yes. But it's my decision to stay, and it's going to be my own abilities that keep me here, not his."
"True, true. They are very spectacular abilities, yes."
His smile was too smooth, too practiced. Ariadne had the feeling he was wearing one of his con faces, and that she was the mark. It was unsettling, and it made her cross her arms over her chest in distaste. "I'm sure you had a point in coming to visit me, Eames. You haven't called, written or otherwise made any contact with me."
"You haven't, either," he pointed out.
"I already thanked you for saving my life. You've pointed out you'll make me pay for it."
"A favor. Quid pro quo. It's very common in our line of work."
"Is that why you're here right now?" she asked, suddenly feeling tired of dancing around the subject of his presence in Paris. She had defended her thesis already, and Arthur had been appropriately supportive. She had been rather disappointed that there hadn't been more than that, but it was pretty much the story of her life. She was always someone's friend, never really the romantic interest. Her work ethic was off putting in the past, but she suspected that for Arthur it was a question of safety for them both, as well not having tighter ties within the business. It can be lonely, he'd told her, but you figure out what's important to you. Those are the parts you keep, and everything else you let go. It's the only way to stay sane.
Eames' smile was sharp, but not uncomfortably so. "You always were very quick on the uptake, Ariadne. I do appreciate that."
"I'm not going by Ariadne for dream share anymore," she said quietly.
"Really?" Eames asked, blinking in surprise. Ariadne wondered if she really should have felt as pleased as she did for startling him.
"I've contacted the people I've worked with, even Verick. I said there were problems with the name, and they shouldn't use it anymore." Ariadne looked at him evenly, seeing if he would challenge her. When he didn't, she smiled. "Protection in the field is important, after all."
"That it is," he told her approvingly. Eames swept forward and took over her couch, legs sprawled and arms draped over the back and arm of it. He looked even more massive somehow, even if he was the one seated and she was standing up. He knew how to move, how to work his physique to his advantage. Ariadne wasn't going to underestimate him, but it had been a month and it was easy to forget something like that. He still dressed to hide that solid bulk of muscle, still tried to get others to underestimate his physical presence and intellectual skills. It was like a mask he slipped over his face, or like an actor inhabiting a new persona.
"You're not going to ask me what name I used?"
"I rather think you'd tell me if you wanted me to use it," Eames drawled.
"Clare Dunham. It's a solid identity in case it's ever put up against a background check."
"And we are all to assume that the Ariadne name was compromised because of Aranov?"
"Seems like good enough timing, doesn't it?"
"Good use of resources, darling," Eames said, approval clear in his tone. "I suppose our Arthur helped set that up for you."
"He did."
"Good man," Eames said with a nod. "On his way back stateside, or is he still in Europe?"
Arthur had mentioned exactly where he was headed, but Ariadne gave him a negligent shrug. "I don't know. He'll land on his feet, no matter where he goes."
If anything, the lie made Eames smile even wider. "Oh, you're going to be good."
"What are you talking about?"
"Arthur told me he's on his way to Dublin. You're safe, so I don't have to be on the alert quite so much now." He laughed at her dubious expression. "We've both taken a shine to you, Ariadne." He gave a dramatic pause. "I'm sorry, Clare. So we keep in touch where you're concerned and make sure that you don't wind up dead because of us."
"You feel that obligated?"
Eames shrugged and brushed nonexistent lint from his sleeve. "Genuine talent is a very rare find. Rarer still is the one that we truly enjoy the company of. Some in the field are just complete boors, and others are utter wankers. Can't have it all, sorry to say."
"And you?"
"What about me?"
Ariadne resisted the urge to throw something at his head. "Where do you fit?"
"A very talented arsehole that few can tolerate, but sooner or later they come to anyway." He flashed her a wicked grin. "I prefer that reputation, honestly. Fewer cockups if they already expect me to cut and run if it gets too hot."
Ariadne remembered Eames planning to sit out the first level and hide from Fischer's projections when he first heard about the threat of limbo. "Do you do that often?"
Something flashed in his eyes. "That would be telling."
"You can tell me."
Eames studied her and she returned his gaze without flinching. "Yes, I suppose I can. You never did say what you got from Verick, and he has been waiting a long time for the other shoe to drop from you. And you weren't completely surprised by Cobb, meaning you knew some of it. So you collect secrets very well."
She waited, staring him down. She resisted the urge to speak; saying anything now might disturb the balance between them.
Eames let out a breath. "I've left twice. Exactly twice in all of my dream share work. I am a professional, no matter what Arthur may say."
"Thank you for telling me," Ariadne said in quiet tones. "Now can you tell me what you're really doing here?"
His smile was downright mercenary. "With pleasure, dear Clare. It seems that I need to call in that favor you owe me."
***
***
Off to chapter three...