Secondhand Shadow, 5/5. NC-17. Ariadne/Eames.
Title: Secondhand Shadow
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames.
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan or the DC Universe. I'll put their toys back where I found them when I'm done messing with them :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Crossover of Inception and The Dark Knight Rises. inception_kink meme prompt in round 19: "...And I mean that. It's not just a line."
Summary: Forging involves breaking down the original personality and grafting a new one over it. Eames is one of the best in the business because his forges are flawless. So far, he had managed to avoid any complications or aftereffects from his forges. But forging Bane is a whole new experience, and pushes his skills to the next level. Including Bane bleeding through after the job is done.
Previous chapters:
One - A Job Like No Other
Two - Exploration
Three - Establishing New Rules
Four - Marking Territory
Five - Clearing The Air
Whispers centered around Mombasa, and underlings combed through various contacts. Yusuf was their chemist, but he was freelance. He supplied the chemicals they needed, no questions asked. He rarely left his den for the outside world, and if he did it was generally clear why he did. Bane knew that the last time he had left Mombasa it was for Paris. The job itself wasn't entirely clear, but the known players involved were high caliber. It wasn't League of Shadows business, and Yusuf knew better than to tangle with such things.
No, Yusuf wasn't the source of the whispers looking for Bane or meddling in his interests. That meant someone new was in Mombasa, and that could not be tolerated.
He liked Old Town, at least. It was a nice place to visit while he chased down this second shadow lurking in his wake.
There were plenty of League agents wandering through the city streets. There were mercenaries aplenty in the twisting streets, former members of various international alphabet agencies as well as mercenaries for hire.
There wasn't any new interest Yusuf's dream den; Bane had seen fit to dig deep into Yusuf's interests before making him the usual supplier for his venom. If Yusuf could guess what it was for, he never said. The venom was a particularly potent narcotic, and it alleviated the worst of the pain surrounding the ruins of Bane's face. The mask supplied a steady infusion of the venom, and it was enough to keep him speaking, eating and drinking as necessary. Without it, the pain became so overwhelming he might as well be paralyzed. The face was too densely innervated for him to tolerate that much pain at once. With the venom, however, he could not only ignore the twisted mass of flesh that was his mouth and nose, but he could also withstand more physical discomfort than most men could.
His second was in Gotham City, locked away in Arkham Asylum. It was a long game of sorts; Bane didn't believe for a moment that Batman was truly dead. Barsad was willing to sacrifice his freedom and potentially his mind for the sake of the Brotherhood, and there was no one else with as much inner strength to withstand the isolation that was his punishment for a prolonged length of time the way he could.
Bane's third was a silent man who knew he could never replace Barsad. He didn't even try. Instead he worked to serve the League of Shadows and Bane in every capacity he had. If it bothered him to be counted as a third, he never displayed the disappointment. He moved through the streets of Old Town and the newer sections of Mombasa silently, returning to Bane in the evenings with scraps of news. There was no one new entering the dream den, no new regulations on somnacin components, no difficulties for the usual suspects making ends meet.
"There is a man looking to hire assassins and mercenaries to level an entire city," the man said, bowing his head in front of Bane. "No target mentioned, but it is in Europe. The idea is to raze it to the ground, then let the people build a new city in its place."
"Interesting," Bane said, eyes sharp and ears alert. "Who is this man?"
"His name is Eames, and he lives in Mombasa. He once knew Berenger."
Bane smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. It wasn't a pleasant smile, and even the mask obliterating his face couldn't hide that fact. "Excellent. Let us go meet our new friend."
***
Sore and skin tingling everywhere, Ariadne gingerly sat down on the couch. She relaxed into the overstuffed cushions, thinking of her thesis defense. Her tickets were booked for her return flight to Paris in two days, and she couldn't help but feel like a failure. Eames was still in that strange half state between who he was and who Bane was, and she hadn't been able to draw him out of it. He had spent more time dominating the hell out of her in the bedroom, his eyes following every motion she made when she was out of it. He had unlocked the door about twenty minutes ago, amused to find her still lounging in bed, completely fucked out from earlier. It was hard to think in that state, and he knew it.
Ariadne didn't think there would be any problem defending her thesis. With nothing else to preoccupy her in Mombasa, she had focused on her work while waiting for her e-mails to be answered. She knew the material backwards and forwards. There was some nervousness about the entire process, the usual fears of stumbling over her words or looking like a fool if her mind blanked out. But she had been doing this long enough that if she couldn't describe what she wanted to do and explain how it could be done, she didn't deserve her degree.
Eames hovered behind her, slipping his hands along her shoulders. His palms rested lightly there, his long fingers sliding along her collarbone. He dropped a kiss at the top of her head. "I'm sure you'll think of me even in Paris," he murmured into her hair. She made a noncommittal hum in reply, not sure what to say. Whatever this thing was between them would likely end when she went back to Paris, right? He couldn't possibly be this possessive from another continent.
Whatever remained of her logic informed her that he would find a way. There were ties between them, regardless of the emotional label they wanted to use. He was possessive and sometimes coercive, but underneath it all he still cared about her. He wanted her safe, and she clung to that concept tightly. Ariadne might not have known what was going on in his mind, and he frightened her sometimes, but he wanted her safe.
"I'm going to stay there, even after my defense is done," she murmured. She hadn't really decided for sure, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized they were true. This level of tension wasn't healthy, and she didn't enjoy worrying this much. Once she was back on familiar ground, surrounded by her usual friends and doing the job hunting thing, the anxiety levels would drop and she could probably loosen hold of the guilt she felt.
Hands tightening on her shoulders, Eames exhaled heavily. "You are," he murmured, no inflection in his tone. "I-"
Whatever he was going to say was lost by the sharp knock on the front door. Frowning, Eames left Ariadne's side and moved into a defensive position near the doorway. He took a glimpse through the peephole, then relaxed his stance and threw the door open with a grand smile. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked.
To Ariadne's horror, three men with dark clothing, open weapons at their sides, and soulless eyes entered the apartment. Following them was Bane.
Bane looked at Eames as if sizing him up, his eyes sharp. Those eyes swung to Ariadne's stricken expression as she sat on the couch, her fear at the sight of the guns palpable. He looked back toward Eames. They had the same height, and Bane was built far more massively than Eames was. The mask on his face concealed the majority of his facial expression. It was impossible to tell if he was amused or infuriated.
"You are Eames," he intoned, the mask distorting the sound of his voice. Ariadne couldn't tell by inflection what his emotion was, and the accent made it somewhat difficult to track his words.
"I am, brother. Welcome to Mombasa."
Bane walked a few steps in a little circle, taking in the arrangement of the furniture and the two people in the apartment besides him and his men. His men had already taken up vantage points in the area, in case Ariadne wasn't as terrified as she appeared to be. Eames appeared to be amused by the precaution, and he gave them all an indulgent smile. Ariadne wanted to shout at him to cut it out, this wasn't funny, it was the fucking League of Shadows and they would be killed if he didn't stop. They had killed people for less than this, according to Arthur, and no one crossed them without messy reprisals.
She wasn't even going to make it to Paris at this rate.
"You are a minimalist, it seems," Bane commented, finally settling back on evaluating Eames.
"I don't believe in ostentatious displays," Eames replied easily, offering a half shrug of his shoulders. "I have what I need here, and I don't want more. My place in things is less for design and more in paving the way for reconstruction."
"Oh? I thought you were a thief."
"Forger," Eames corrected, pride in his tone.
Bane merely lofted an eyebrow at this and fixed Eames with a stare. Ariadne stayed very still on the couch, sure that getting up to hide in the bedroom would get his attention, and his attention was the last thing she wanted right now. "Indeed," was all Bane said after a moment.
"There are many different applications of such a talent," Eames continued blithely. "The most important, as far as I'm concerned, is the versatility. It keeps my mind open to possibilities and opportunities. It's not the forgery itself that's the important part, brother. It's knowing what will happen next."
"Which is?" Bane prompted, crossing his arms over his massive chest.
Eames fixed him with a wide, pleased smile. "Chaos, of course."
"Explain," he prompted again when Eames didn't continue speaking.
"The average person is too caught up in the petty day to day concerns," Eames replied, making a vague gesture. Bane gave a short nod, conceding that point. "They don't bother to think of the futility of their actions, that their concerns are ignored by those that supposedly help them. Those in power don't care about the little man, the children, the helpless. They care about acquiring more power. It's how I've been hired in my other capacity, to impersonate people or create new documents to help them achieve their ends. It's not for any benevolent purpose, not for anything other than personal glory. They don't build, they merely acquire."
Ariadne listened in abject horror, but Bane appeared to contemplate the fervor of Eames' speech. "Do go on," he said, making a small gesture with one of his hands. He seemed almost amused by this, which Ariadne hoped meant they wouldn't be killed.
"Some places are just too corrupt to have the occasional do-gooder correct it. The weight of iniquity is too heavy a burden, and society becomes too sick. What's needed is to wipe it all clean. Start over again, let it all rebuild. Sometimes it just needs a little push to get it started, and the people can take care of the rest."
"Sounds rather like anarchy," Bane commented, uncrossing his arms and giving Eames a level look. He didn't seem angry, and the amusement was present in his posture now. The three nameless men with him didn't seem as tense, as if the arm crossing and then uncrossing had been a subtle signal of approval.
"If it's necessary, brother, so be it."
"And the girl?" Bane asked, gesturing toward Ariadne with a sweep of his hand. "Are these her beliefs as well?"
Eames deftly took a step toward Ariadne in such a way that he blocked direct view. "She is mine, brother. She's an architect, a builder. An eternal optimist, perhaps, but it's good to have balance in any plan."
"And if there is opposition to the plans that you pose?" Bane asked, voice dangerously soft.
"I told you," Eames replied, some of the same steel in his voice. It was eerie to see the two of them face to face; the times she had seen Bane looking at her through Eames' eyes was nothing in comparison to the real thing, but was terribly close. Eames' expression was chilling, and the cast of his eyes looked similar to the exposed parts of Bane's face. "She is mine, brother. Mine. She is under my protection, my discipline. I take care of what is mine by whatever means necessary. There's no need to interfere."
"And what do you propose?"
"You've left a man in Gotham, that's yours."
"Magnanimous of you," Bane said, sounding almost sarcastic behind the mask.
"My sights are set on Athens," Eames continued as if Bane hadn't spoken. "It's old and decadent, ripe for destruction. The people are already halfway there. All it needs is a little extra push, and I mean to apply the lever to begin its fall."
"And once it does, will you rebuild it with your architect?" Bane asked, gesturing toward Ariadne. She hoped she didn't appear as terrified as she felt, and Eames' amused laughter didn't help her feel any sort of comfort. "Is that funny, then, Mr. Eames?"
"Since when do men like us rebuild such places? Let them build their own city, if they have the skill and bravery to do such a thing. Let them earn their place or live like rats if they can't. I am no ruler, just a means to let the decadence wash away. The people must be equal, so the city must have the inequality lanced from its core. No more, no less."
Bane clasped a heavy hand on Eames' shoulder, eyes tilting as if he was grinning behind his frightening mask. "You are definitely a brother in arms to our cause, a friend to the League. You were not trained by us, but I see that you share many of our ideals."
"And I suppose this also means I'm a useful tool to remain in play," Eames replied sardonically. "If I'm not a League member, and don't use League players, it sows confusion in your enemies and leads authorities to look elsewhere."
Now Bane laughed outright. "Oh, I see you do indeed have a sharp mind. Part and parcel of a forger's position, to realize how and when they are useful, yes? We all have a role to play in this world, brother. A word of advice, given that you are indeed useful to our purposes, is to make quieter inquiries for men and make sure there are no inquiries about you. This is how I discovered your humble abode, after all. If not for that, Athens would have fallen and I would not have had even a whisper of your identity."
"I haven't been trying to hide my intentions from you or the rest of the League," Eames said with a half shrug. "I didn't think I needed to."
"No," Bane agreed with a nod. He removed his hand from Eames' shoulder and gestured for his men to leave the apartment. "There is no need for those of the shadows to hide from another. We are all well aware of our purpose. It is always good to have true friends of the League." Bane took a step to the side and his gaze fell onto Ariadne's pale face. "Keep your young woman protected, little brother. There are many who would prey at your doorstep and think that a tender girl would be excellent bait."
"I understand, brother. I'm taking steps."
"If you do need aid or wish to formally join the League..." Bane smiled again. "Follow the whispers in the shadows. I'm sure you'll find your way."
Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief when the door was shut behind Bane and his men. Eames locked the door, and turned to face her. He didn't seem scared or dismayed at all, as if it was an everyday occurrence for Bane to show up for a conversation. It didn't seem to bother him that their lives very well could have ended right there.
"You didn't have to be afraid," Eames murmured softly, approaching her. He pulled Ariadne to her feet and cradled her face in his hands. "I told you. I will always protect you."
Ariadne wanted to shake him and say that he was insane if he thought he could deal with the League of Shadows and escape unscathed. But knowing Eames, he would have an answer to that, especially after what had just happened. She had to break things off with Eames to stay safe, that much was clear. The words were on her tongue, ready to be said, but she was still attached to him. She didn't really want to completely sever ties if she could help it. It wasn't just dream share referrals, but that she actually cared about his wellbeing. She wanted him safe, even from himself, and she couldn't stand the thought of him lying dead in a gutter as a warning to those that meddled into League affairs the way Berenger had been left.
"What is it?" he asked, sensing her conflict.
"I don't think I can come back to Mombasa. Not when things are like this," she temporized.
"What you were talking about before we were so rudely interrupted," he observed.
"I can't do this, Eames," she whispered, placing one of her hands over his on her cheek. "I can't watch you do this to yourself. I don't know how to help you, and I can't stand there and let you do this."
"Do what? Let the wastrels in government drown in their own excesses and reap what they've sown? Bring about a glorious revolution?" He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Darling, it's not your place to worry over this. I know what I'm doing."
"I can't help it. Unlike you, I can't pretend to be a dozen different people and pretend I care or don't care. And I'm telling you, I can't." She spun away from him and shook her head, too overcome by a flood of nameless emotion and the adrenaline from earlier.
"What are you saying?" Eames asked carefully, one of his hands resting on her side, fingers curling around her ribs protectively. He sounded like himself, and Ariadne turned slightly to face him, eyes searching his face.
"I love building," she choked out. "I love the magic in it, seeing entire cities rise up, playing around with physics like the rules don't really exist. But I can't live in this kind of world, Eames. I can't pretend that what you're doing makes sense to me. I can't live day to day scared out of my mind that something like this is going to happen, or the League changes its mind and kills you. Or anyone else I've come to care about," she added, thinking of Arthur and Yusuf.
"I've never asked you to," Eames replied, turning her to face him. He rested his hands on her hips, meeting her gaze head on.
This was too uncomfortably tense, but Ariadne couldn't back down from it. "I know. But I can't watch you go through this. I can't sit and wait, not knowing if someone is going to kill you. I can't do a thing to help you, I realize that now."
He moved a hand up to cup her face tenderly. "Ariadne."
She flashed him a sad smile. "There's only so much I can deal with, Eames. It's not fair to you to string you along and make you think I'm capable of more than that."
Something dark and pained flashed in his eyes. "You're trying to break up with me," he commented, his thumb brushing across her lower lip.
Ariadne didn't flinch. "Yes."
"I don't accept that."
She let out an annoyed huff. "I know what I'm talking about, Eames."
"I'm sure you do," he said, and there was that edge to his voice that reminded her of Bane. He wouldn't accept this, she realized suddenly. He wouldn't let her go.
"I'm going to Paris. If I ever come back to Mombasa - and I'm not sure if I will ever come back - it won't be like this. I'm not going to live here with you. I won't be party to whatever you're planning, whatever city you want to destroy. I can't stop you from doing it, I'm not able to do that and I know trying to will probably kill me." He nodded briefly when she paused. "I cannot live that way, Eames. I can't."
"I would never stop you from living your life," Eames began carefully, palm still cradling her face. "I wouldn't dream of making you live in shadows. You're too bright a creature, and it's not in your nature. I've always known that."
"I'm sorry," Ariadne whispered, covering her hand with his.
"You tried your best, and I do appreciate that. You're being honest with me, painfully honest, but this is your way, too. I know this of you. You have always been honest with me, even in the midst of all my plans." Eames leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. He didn't step back, but continued to crowd her personal space. It didn't feel threatening now, but Ariadne knew that leaving him wouldn't be easy. "It's why I told you that I considered you my second. You keep me honest, you ground me. You inspire me to build better things out of the ashes of corruption and despair."
"I'm not anyone special," she protested, shaking her head.
"To me you are," Eames replied gently. "You are precious to me, necessary like the air I breathe or the bonds I must make for plans to succeed. Some things will never change. Should you need to show affection elsewhere, I would permit it if it was necessary. Know this, Ariadne. No matter where you go, what you do, you will always belong to me. Think of me as your shadow, darling. I will always be there."
It was both a threat and a promise.
The End
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames.
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan or the DC Universe. I'll put their toys back where I found them when I'm done messing with them :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Crossover of Inception and The Dark Knight Rises. inception_kink meme prompt in round 19: "...And I mean that. It's not just a line."
Summary: Forging involves breaking down the original personality and grafting a new one over it. Eames is one of the best in the business because his forges are flawless. So far, he had managed to avoid any complications or aftereffects from his forges. But forging Bane is a whole new experience, and pushes his skills to the next level. Including Bane bleeding through after the job is done.
Previous chapters:
One - A Job Like No Other
Two - Exploration
Three - Establishing New Rules
Four - Marking Territory
Five - Clearing The Air
Whispers centered around Mombasa, and underlings combed through various contacts. Yusuf was their chemist, but he was freelance. He supplied the chemicals they needed, no questions asked. He rarely left his den for the outside world, and if he did it was generally clear why he did. Bane knew that the last time he had left Mombasa it was for Paris. The job itself wasn't entirely clear, but the known players involved were high caliber. It wasn't League of Shadows business, and Yusuf knew better than to tangle with such things.
No, Yusuf wasn't the source of the whispers looking for Bane or meddling in his interests. That meant someone new was in Mombasa, and that could not be tolerated.
He liked Old Town, at least. It was a nice place to visit while he chased down this second shadow lurking in his wake.
There were plenty of League agents wandering through the city streets. There were mercenaries aplenty in the twisting streets, former members of various international alphabet agencies as well as mercenaries for hire.
There wasn't any new interest Yusuf's dream den; Bane had seen fit to dig deep into Yusuf's interests before making him the usual supplier for his venom. If Yusuf could guess what it was for, he never said. The venom was a particularly potent narcotic, and it alleviated the worst of the pain surrounding the ruins of Bane's face. The mask supplied a steady infusion of the venom, and it was enough to keep him speaking, eating and drinking as necessary. Without it, the pain became so overwhelming he might as well be paralyzed. The face was too densely innervated for him to tolerate that much pain at once. With the venom, however, he could not only ignore the twisted mass of flesh that was his mouth and nose, but he could also withstand more physical discomfort than most men could.
His second was in Gotham City, locked away in Arkham Asylum. It was a long game of sorts; Bane didn't believe for a moment that Batman was truly dead. Barsad was willing to sacrifice his freedom and potentially his mind for the sake of the Brotherhood, and there was no one else with as much inner strength to withstand the isolation that was his punishment for a prolonged length of time the way he could.
Bane's third was a silent man who knew he could never replace Barsad. He didn't even try. Instead he worked to serve the League of Shadows and Bane in every capacity he had. If it bothered him to be counted as a third, he never displayed the disappointment. He moved through the streets of Old Town and the newer sections of Mombasa silently, returning to Bane in the evenings with scraps of news. There was no one new entering the dream den, no new regulations on somnacin components, no difficulties for the usual suspects making ends meet.
"There is a man looking to hire assassins and mercenaries to level an entire city," the man said, bowing his head in front of Bane. "No target mentioned, but it is in Europe. The idea is to raze it to the ground, then let the people build a new city in its place."
"Interesting," Bane said, eyes sharp and ears alert. "Who is this man?"
"His name is Eames, and he lives in Mombasa. He once knew Berenger."
Bane smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. It wasn't a pleasant smile, and even the mask obliterating his face couldn't hide that fact. "Excellent. Let us go meet our new friend."
***
Sore and skin tingling everywhere, Ariadne gingerly sat down on the couch. She relaxed into the overstuffed cushions, thinking of her thesis defense. Her tickets were booked for her return flight to Paris in two days, and she couldn't help but feel like a failure. Eames was still in that strange half state between who he was and who Bane was, and she hadn't been able to draw him out of it. He had spent more time dominating the hell out of her in the bedroom, his eyes following every motion she made when she was out of it. He had unlocked the door about twenty minutes ago, amused to find her still lounging in bed, completely fucked out from earlier. It was hard to think in that state, and he knew it.
Ariadne didn't think there would be any problem defending her thesis. With nothing else to preoccupy her in Mombasa, she had focused on her work while waiting for her e-mails to be answered. She knew the material backwards and forwards. There was some nervousness about the entire process, the usual fears of stumbling over her words or looking like a fool if her mind blanked out. But she had been doing this long enough that if she couldn't describe what she wanted to do and explain how it could be done, she didn't deserve her degree.
Eames hovered behind her, slipping his hands along her shoulders. His palms rested lightly there, his long fingers sliding along her collarbone. He dropped a kiss at the top of her head. "I'm sure you'll think of me even in Paris," he murmured into her hair. She made a noncommittal hum in reply, not sure what to say. Whatever this thing was between them would likely end when she went back to Paris, right? He couldn't possibly be this possessive from another continent.
Whatever remained of her logic informed her that he would find a way. There were ties between them, regardless of the emotional label they wanted to use. He was possessive and sometimes coercive, but underneath it all he still cared about her. He wanted her safe, and she clung to that concept tightly. Ariadne might not have known what was going on in his mind, and he frightened her sometimes, but he wanted her safe.
"I'm going to stay there, even after my defense is done," she murmured. She hadn't really decided for sure, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized they were true. This level of tension wasn't healthy, and she didn't enjoy worrying this much. Once she was back on familiar ground, surrounded by her usual friends and doing the job hunting thing, the anxiety levels would drop and she could probably loosen hold of the guilt she felt.
Hands tightening on her shoulders, Eames exhaled heavily. "You are," he murmured, no inflection in his tone. "I-"
Whatever he was going to say was lost by the sharp knock on the front door. Frowning, Eames left Ariadne's side and moved into a defensive position near the doorway. He took a glimpse through the peephole, then relaxed his stance and threw the door open with a grand smile. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked.
To Ariadne's horror, three men with dark clothing, open weapons at their sides, and soulless eyes entered the apartment. Following them was Bane.
Bane looked at Eames as if sizing him up, his eyes sharp. Those eyes swung to Ariadne's stricken expression as she sat on the couch, her fear at the sight of the guns palpable. He looked back toward Eames. They had the same height, and Bane was built far more massively than Eames was. The mask on his face concealed the majority of his facial expression. It was impossible to tell if he was amused or infuriated.
"You are Eames," he intoned, the mask distorting the sound of his voice. Ariadne couldn't tell by inflection what his emotion was, and the accent made it somewhat difficult to track his words.
"I am, brother. Welcome to Mombasa."
Bane walked a few steps in a little circle, taking in the arrangement of the furniture and the two people in the apartment besides him and his men. His men had already taken up vantage points in the area, in case Ariadne wasn't as terrified as she appeared to be. Eames appeared to be amused by the precaution, and he gave them all an indulgent smile. Ariadne wanted to shout at him to cut it out, this wasn't funny, it was the fucking League of Shadows and they would be killed if he didn't stop. They had killed people for less than this, according to Arthur, and no one crossed them without messy reprisals.
She wasn't even going to make it to Paris at this rate.
"You are a minimalist, it seems," Bane commented, finally settling back on evaluating Eames.
"I don't believe in ostentatious displays," Eames replied easily, offering a half shrug of his shoulders. "I have what I need here, and I don't want more. My place in things is less for design and more in paving the way for reconstruction."
"Oh? I thought you were a thief."
"Forger," Eames corrected, pride in his tone.
Bane merely lofted an eyebrow at this and fixed Eames with a stare. Ariadne stayed very still on the couch, sure that getting up to hide in the bedroom would get his attention, and his attention was the last thing she wanted right now. "Indeed," was all Bane said after a moment.
"There are many different applications of such a talent," Eames continued blithely. "The most important, as far as I'm concerned, is the versatility. It keeps my mind open to possibilities and opportunities. It's not the forgery itself that's the important part, brother. It's knowing what will happen next."
"Which is?" Bane prompted, crossing his arms over his massive chest.
Eames fixed him with a wide, pleased smile. "Chaos, of course."
"Explain," he prompted again when Eames didn't continue speaking.
"The average person is too caught up in the petty day to day concerns," Eames replied, making a vague gesture. Bane gave a short nod, conceding that point. "They don't bother to think of the futility of their actions, that their concerns are ignored by those that supposedly help them. Those in power don't care about the little man, the children, the helpless. They care about acquiring more power. It's how I've been hired in my other capacity, to impersonate people or create new documents to help them achieve their ends. It's not for any benevolent purpose, not for anything other than personal glory. They don't build, they merely acquire."
Ariadne listened in abject horror, but Bane appeared to contemplate the fervor of Eames' speech. "Do go on," he said, making a small gesture with one of his hands. He seemed almost amused by this, which Ariadne hoped meant they wouldn't be killed.
"Some places are just too corrupt to have the occasional do-gooder correct it. The weight of iniquity is too heavy a burden, and society becomes too sick. What's needed is to wipe it all clean. Start over again, let it all rebuild. Sometimes it just needs a little push to get it started, and the people can take care of the rest."
"Sounds rather like anarchy," Bane commented, uncrossing his arms and giving Eames a level look. He didn't seem angry, and the amusement was present in his posture now. The three nameless men with him didn't seem as tense, as if the arm crossing and then uncrossing had been a subtle signal of approval.
"If it's necessary, brother, so be it."
"And the girl?" Bane asked, gesturing toward Ariadne with a sweep of his hand. "Are these her beliefs as well?"
Eames deftly took a step toward Ariadne in such a way that he blocked direct view. "She is mine, brother. She's an architect, a builder. An eternal optimist, perhaps, but it's good to have balance in any plan."
"And if there is opposition to the plans that you pose?" Bane asked, voice dangerously soft.
"I told you," Eames replied, some of the same steel in his voice. It was eerie to see the two of them face to face; the times she had seen Bane looking at her through Eames' eyes was nothing in comparison to the real thing, but was terribly close. Eames' expression was chilling, and the cast of his eyes looked similar to the exposed parts of Bane's face. "She is mine, brother. Mine. She is under my protection, my discipline. I take care of what is mine by whatever means necessary. There's no need to interfere."
"And what do you propose?"
"You've left a man in Gotham, that's yours."
"Magnanimous of you," Bane said, sounding almost sarcastic behind the mask.
"My sights are set on Athens," Eames continued as if Bane hadn't spoken. "It's old and decadent, ripe for destruction. The people are already halfway there. All it needs is a little extra push, and I mean to apply the lever to begin its fall."
"And once it does, will you rebuild it with your architect?" Bane asked, gesturing toward Ariadne. She hoped she didn't appear as terrified as she felt, and Eames' amused laughter didn't help her feel any sort of comfort. "Is that funny, then, Mr. Eames?"
"Since when do men like us rebuild such places? Let them build their own city, if they have the skill and bravery to do such a thing. Let them earn their place or live like rats if they can't. I am no ruler, just a means to let the decadence wash away. The people must be equal, so the city must have the inequality lanced from its core. No more, no less."
Bane clasped a heavy hand on Eames' shoulder, eyes tilting as if he was grinning behind his frightening mask. "You are definitely a brother in arms to our cause, a friend to the League. You were not trained by us, but I see that you share many of our ideals."
"And I suppose this also means I'm a useful tool to remain in play," Eames replied sardonically. "If I'm not a League member, and don't use League players, it sows confusion in your enemies and leads authorities to look elsewhere."
Now Bane laughed outright. "Oh, I see you do indeed have a sharp mind. Part and parcel of a forger's position, to realize how and when they are useful, yes? We all have a role to play in this world, brother. A word of advice, given that you are indeed useful to our purposes, is to make quieter inquiries for men and make sure there are no inquiries about you. This is how I discovered your humble abode, after all. If not for that, Athens would have fallen and I would not have had even a whisper of your identity."
"I haven't been trying to hide my intentions from you or the rest of the League," Eames said with a half shrug. "I didn't think I needed to."
"No," Bane agreed with a nod. He removed his hand from Eames' shoulder and gestured for his men to leave the apartment. "There is no need for those of the shadows to hide from another. We are all well aware of our purpose. It is always good to have true friends of the League." Bane took a step to the side and his gaze fell onto Ariadne's pale face. "Keep your young woman protected, little brother. There are many who would prey at your doorstep and think that a tender girl would be excellent bait."
"I understand, brother. I'm taking steps."
"If you do need aid or wish to formally join the League..." Bane smiled again. "Follow the whispers in the shadows. I'm sure you'll find your way."
Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief when the door was shut behind Bane and his men. Eames locked the door, and turned to face her. He didn't seem scared or dismayed at all, as if it was an everyday occurrence for Bane to show up for a conversation. It didn't seem to bother him that their lives very well could have ended right there.
"You didn't have to be afraid," Eames murmured softly, approaching her. He pulled Ariadne to her feet and cradled her face in his hands. "I told you. I will always protect you."
Ariadne wanted to shake him and say that he was insane if he thought he could deal with the League of Shadows and escape unscathed. But knowing Eames, he would have an answer to that, especially after what had just happened. She had to break things off with Eames to stay safe, that much was clear. The words were on her tongue, ready to be said, but she was still attached to him. She didn't really want to completely sever ties if she could help it. It wasn't just dream share referrals, but that she actually cared about his wellbeing. She wanted him safe, even from himself, and she couldn't stand the thought of him lying dead in a gutter as a warning to those that meddled into League affairs the way Berenger had been left.
"What is it?" he asked, sensing her conflict.
"I don't think I can come back to Mombasa. Not when things are like this," she temporized.
"What you were talking about before we were so rudely interrupted," he observed.
"I can't do this, Eames," she whispered, placing one of her hands over his on her cheek. "I can't watch you do this to yourself. I don't know how to help you, and I can't stand there and let you do this."
"Do what? Let the wastrels in government drown in their own excesses and reap what they've sown? Bring about a glorious revolution?" He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Darling, it's not your place to worry over this. I know what I'm doing."
"I can't help it. Unlike you, I can't pretend to be a dozen different people and pretend I care or don't care. And I'm telling you, I can't." She spun away from him and shook her head, too overcome by a flood of nameless emotion and the adrenaline from earlier.
"What are you saying?" Eames asked carefully, one of his hands resting on her side, fingers curling around her ribs protectively. He sounded like himself, and Ariadne turned slightly to face him, eyes searching his face.
"I love building," she choked out. "I love the magic in it, seeing entire cities rise up, playing around with physics like the rules don't really exist. But I can't live in this kind of world, Eames. I can't pretend that what you're doing makes sense to me. I can't live day to day scared out of my mind that something like this is going to happen, or the League changes its mind and kills you. Or anyone else I've come to care about," she added, thinking of Arthur and Yusuf.
"I've never asked you to," Eames replied, turning her to face him. He rested his hands on her hips, meeting her gaze head on.
This was too uncomfortably tense, but Ariadne couldn't back down from it. "I know. But I can't watch you go through this. I can't sit and wait, not knowing if someone is going to kill you. I can't do a thing to help you, I realize that now."
He moved a hand up to cup her face tenderly. "Ariadne."
She flashed him a sad smile. "There's only so much I can deal with, Eames. It's not fair to you to string you along and make you think I'm capable of more than that."
Something dark and pained flashed in his eyes. "You're trying to break up with me," he commented, his thumb brushing across her lower lip.
Ariadne didn't flinch. "Yes."
"I don't accept that."
She let out an annoyed huff. "I know what I'm talking about, Eames."
"I'm sure you do," he said, and there was that edge to his voice that reminded her of Bane. He wouldn't accept this, she realized suddenly. He wouldn't let her go.
"I'm going to Paris. If I ever come back to Mombasa - and I'm not sure if I will ever come back - it won't be like this. I'm not going to live here with you. I won't be party to whatever you're planning, whatever city you want to destroy. I can't stop you from doing it, I'm not able to do that and I know trying to will probably kill me." He nodded briefly when she paused. "I cannot live that way, Eames. I can't."
"I would never stop you from living your life," Eames began carefully, palm still cradling her face. "I wouldn't dream of making you live in shadows. You're too bright a creature, and it's not in your nature. I've always known that."
"I'm sorry," Ariadne whispered, covering her hand with his.
"You tried your best, and I do appreciate that. You're being honest with me, painfully honest, but this is your way, too. I know this of you. You have always been honest with me, even in the midst of all my plans." Eames leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. He didn't step back, but continued to crowd her personal space. It didn't feel threatening now, but Ariadne knew that leaving him wouldn't be easy. "It's why I told you that I considered you my second. You keep me honest, you ground me. You inspire me to build better things out of the ashes of corruption and despair."
"I'm not anyone special," she protested, shaking her head.
"To me you are," Eames replied gently. "You are precious to me, necessary like the air I breathe or the bonds I must make for plans to succeed. Some things will never change. Should you need to show affection elsewhere, I would permit it if it was necessary. Know this, Ariadne. No matter where you go, what you do, you will always belong to me. Think of me as your shadow, darling. I will always be there."
It was both a threat and a promise.
The End