Sleeper Cell, 1/22. NC-17.
Title: Sleeper Cell (Sequel to The Ghost Network)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU fic to the movie and a direct sequel to the Ghost Network, so you absolutely need to read that one first. There's violence, language, eventually graphic sex and torture (that will get marked) and various characters screwing with each others' heads. Also incorporates the following prompt from round 10 of the
inception_kink meme: Ariadne and Arthur have to rescue Eames from some debacle he's in.
Summary: Inspector Eames had several different roles to play in helping the British government. Not all of them were savory, and none of them were entirely safe.
Sleeper Cell
Superintendent Mayhew ducked into Inspector Eames' office. The office was a tiny box of space, but folders and papers were strewn everywhere in apparent disarray. Mayhew knew better; he had supervised Eames for years and knew that the man only appeared disorganized on the surface. He was the kind of man that looked at every little detail, so he needed space to shuffle through things. He had been back from the United States for a few months now, and had dove into his work with his usual kind of single-minded intensity. He was working on another serial murder case, scratching notes on a pad as he shuffled through different sheets of paper on his desk. Eames' head was bent over his pad, dark blond hair mussed as he ran his fingers through it as he thought. His tie had been tossed aside somewhere, and the striped shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. He didn't even look up as Mayhew entered the office.
Mayhew had gotten a bit portly since becoming Superintendent, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He wasn't much in the looks department, but that wasn't how he got ahead at Scotland Yard. He was a quick thinker and a good manager, and he worked well in his little niche. He was starting to go gray at the temples and there were fine wrinkles around his dark eyes; he liked to think it made him look a bit more distinguished and less like he was getting too old. Mayhew cleared his throat, making Eames finally look up. "I need a word, Eames."
"I'd offer a place to sit, but I've no chairs," Eames replied. His pen was poised over the pad. "Don't tell me there's another body."
Mayhew smiled. "No, no, nothing like that, thank God. Apparently, our killer took some time off for hols."
"If only we could," Eames drawled. He didn't want to think of his empty flat or the fact that he was alone. Max was stateside with his wife, and they were expecting a baby in the summer. Yusuf was having the time of his life doing legitimate research and publishing under the auspices of Quantico with Stephen Miles. Some of his old friends still kept in contact, but they all had families and lives outside of work.
He tried not to think of Ariadne. She had made her choice, which stung, and thinking about her just brought out the old hurt.
Mayhew paused, as if searching for the right words to say. Eames sighed. "Out with it. This isn't a social call."
"You're being taken off this case, Eames."
"Bloody hell! I'm close, I know I am. This fucker knows the girls, and I'm pretty sure it's the-"
"Eames," Mayhew said, his firm tone interrupting Eames' protest. "It's not my order."
Eames' lips compressed into a fine line. "Whose is it, then?"
"MI6 is requesting your other skills."
Tossing his pen across his desk in anger, Eames leaned back. "Fuck. Can I say no?"
"You're going to refuse MI6?"
"You said it was a request..."
"They request the way the way I make requests, Eames," Mayhew said sharply. He took in the disarray of the office. "I agree with you, for what it's worth. I'm going to put Mickey and Alan on that. They might have everything tied up by Epiphany."
"Mayhew..."
"It's not my order," Mayhew repeated, turning back to look at Eames. His expression was stony. "They need you to go under."
"The last time..."
"I did bring that up. You nearly died, and I don't fancy losing one of my best Inspectors just because they don't have anyone good to back you up." He took in Eames' surprise and nodded. "They said you can build your own team to do what you need to do. Whoever you want, whatever the cost. They don't care."
"Fuck. It's got to be bad."
"Oh, I'm sure it's worse than whatever you're thinking." At Eames' incredulous look, Mayhew merely smiled grimly. "It's MI6, Eames. When the fuck is it ever good?"
Eames rubbed at his jaw and ran his fingers through his hair. "What am I looking at, here?"
"One of their own went rogue," Mayhew said, handing over a slim folder labeled Classified. "This was all they'd give me because of my clearance level. They'd brief you in full once you got on board to work with them."
Cracking open the folder, he glanced at the very brief dossier that Mayhew had read through. It was really skeletal, not much to go on in the slightest. "This says nothing, Mayhew. It's even less than they've given me before. They want me to go after a chemist. Is this a bloody joke?"
"He wasn't just a chemist, I gather," Mayhew told him dryly. "They're giving you until tomorrow to get back to them on this."
"So much time," Eames scoffed. He tossed the folder onto his desk and folded his arms over his chest. Maybe he could refuse the thinly veiled order. It wasn't as if he worked for MI6 any longer, after all. "Why should I? They haven't done me any bleeding favors."
"Let's just say, I got the impression that your life expectancy would drop if you didn't take it," Mayhew told him slowly. "They don't intend to take no for an answer."
"If they're letting me build my own team, they definitely won't take no for an answer," Eames agreed with a sigh.
"You call me if you need to," Mayhew told him in a low tone. "None of that solo hero bullshit that you pulled in Mombasa, got it?"
Eames shot him a weary sigh. "Yeah, well, who will handle all your tough cases if I'm dead?"
"Exactly!" Mayhew agreed with a nod. He left Eames' office, leaving the Inspector to think about MI6's "request." If this was going to be as bad as he thought it was, he was going to pull in as much help as he could get.
***
"Don't even think about coming over here," Eames practically hissed over the phone. He had called his friend Max to see if he knew of anyone in England or Northern Europe that might be willing to play MI6's game. Anyone farther away than that wouldn't be able to get there in time to be briefed.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Max told him with a laugh. "I'm off the grid and very happy to stay that way. I still say you should've come with me. It's safer this way, and MI6 wouldn't be able to twist your balls this way." There was more than a trace of seriousness and regret in his tone. "I've said it over hundred thousand times, Eames. You should've walked away when you had the chance seven years ago."
"No, I couldn't have," Eames said with a sigh. "I couldn't just stay hidden and silent. You know me, mate."
Max's sigh was heavy. "I do. Can't know a bloke for ten years without knowing a thing or two about them or their skills, that's for sure." He blew out a breath. "And any word from the Dream Killer? Or do you really think he's left you alone?"
Eames never told Max about the Dream Killer and the Ghost Network mod being one and the same. He never said that he had met Arthur, that Ariadne was still alive, that Eames was keeping silent about the twisted way the two of them had met and gotten together. He didn't know how he could even begin to tell that story, so it was just as well it wasn't his story to tell.
"He's leaving me alone and the case is closed. No reason to shadow me now."
"I still worry about that, Eames," Max said in a low, serious tone. Eames supposed he didn't want his wife to hear him and worry. "Just dump everything and go. I'll hook you up, find a place safe for you to start again. It's too dangerous."
It was touching, if unnecessary. "I'm fine. The biggest thing to worry about right now is why MI6 is yanking me from the Yard. I was doing well off their radar, and much happier that way. I prefer the simple serial killings than international logistics."
Max sighed. "So few of the old crowd is left, Eames. Most ran to ground. I don't have anyone to rec you, and honestly, I'd rather you left."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate," Eames drawled. "Fine, then. I'm off to troll the underbelly of London. I'll see what overturning a few logs will do for me."
"Stay safe, Eames." Max sounded worried, which gave Eames pause. "If you need me, just call."
"I will, Max. Really. Thanks."
***
"So is it Daniela, Donna or Diane this time?"
Eames slid into place at the bar beside a bottled redhead. It was a particularly dodgy bar in a dingy part of town, someplace no respectable law officer would be located. He knew enough of the locals to pass as one if he needed to, and he knew this particular woman at the bar.
"Denise, actually," she said, curling her lip at him in annoyance. "I thought you kept track better than that, love." She raked her dark eyes over his frame and turned back to her drink. She was dressed in tight clothes and had a thick leather jacket on, her shoulders hunched a bit. She was thinner than he remembered, her olive skin looking almost sallow. He wondered if he would find needle marks along her arms, and if it would be from smack or somnacin. She glared at him, voice seething with anger. "Why are you here?"
"Are you working?"
"Fuck you."
"I meant in dreams, Denise."
She looked at him with a disbelieving expression. "After that last warning you gave me?"
"You didn't exactly leave me any choice, sweetheart," Eames snapped, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I was in intensive care for a week after that stunt you pulled."
"If it was you or me, it sure as hell wasn't going to be me." She turned back to her drink. "I don't do that anymore."
"Shall I check your arms, Denise?"
"Fuck you, Eames."
"I have a job," he said after waiting a beat. "If not you, then who?"
She turned bleary eyes toward him. "Going through the old list, then?"
"I'm cutting to the cream of the crop, if I can."
"I don't dream anymore, Eames," she said tiredly, rubbing at her jaw. "With or without drugs. It burned me out. So I guess you get your revenge after all."
"Denise..."
"Go find Shelley. She'll know who's still in the game. I dropped out after your warning. Seriously, I don't do that shit anymore. I just deal it."
Eames took in the droop of her shoulders. "I'm sorry I had to do that," he murmured.
"Bullshit," she replied, taking a drink. "It's just work, right? Just business. Being a good little soldier and following orders. I get it."
Feeling sorry for her, he pulled out some money and pushed it across the bar at her. It was really only a quirk of fate that landed him on the right side of the law, after all. "I'll talk to Shelley. You take care of yourself, Denise."
She palmed the money but didn't reply. Nodding at her, he left the bar, a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. Denise was definitely out of the game if she thought Shelley was still alive. A lot of the old crowd was gone or dead, and he'd worked to drum a lot of them out of the business. He had few contacts left that he trusted, and a handful of them that he didn't.
He was running out of options. He was going to have to use the Network.
***
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Contact permissions
I need to contact Yusuf in a way that can't be traced. Can you help me out?
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
That depends on what it's about.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
You don't need to know what I'm working on, you wanker!
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
Of course I do. It's my network.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I need information regarding a chemist, and I'm going to need help getting a team together.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
MI6 finally contacted you, I see. I can give you access to Yusuf via PM. They're watching you closely, so I wouldn't advise even disposable phones for calling him. He shouldn't come to the UK either. You should contact Ariadne. She misses you.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know too much about what's going on.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I'm supposed to know what's happening, remember? Contact Ariadne. She misses you.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
Leave it alone and stay out of my business.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
You upset her. That makes it my business. Contact her.
Eames stared at the latest message on his computer screen. He hadn't wanted to go this route, but he wanted Yusuf's expertise without endangering him or letting anyone at MI6 know about him. Yusuf had a good deal going with the FBI, and Eames wasn't about to ruin it for him. It was really the only way he could protect Yusuf that he could think of. It was all right if anyone else knew they were friends, but it would kill Eames to know that he dragged Yusuf down that path.
It was why he had never told anyone about Ariadne's ability to know when she was under without a totem. He knew that some of the assholes he had worked with at MI6 would get wind of it and interrogate her about that ability, looking for a way to train others. He hadn't wanted her involved, because the dream agents for the MI6 were even more ruthless than Cobb had been in getting what they wanted.
No regulation, no crime, no liability.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. This was exactly the problem that had sucked Ariadne into Arthur's twisted world, making her feel on some level that she had to dispense justice personally to those that abused their positions of power with helpless sleepers.
Eames probably wasn't that much better than those lowlifes right about now.
To: Queen
From: Eames
Subject: hi
I'm sorry it's taken me this long to contact you. Are you all right?
To: Eames
From: Queen
Subject: Re: hi
I missed you! I've followed the news as best as I could to see how you were doing. I guess you were really busy with work. I remember what that's like. :)
I've been keeping busy, learning more about dream sharing in other countries. Not all of it is strictly legal, of course, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Some of my old interest in art and history has been coming in handy, though. Apparently my ability to build things in dreams comes from that, and I've been learning more about being an architect. It's been really amazing, and a great excuse to look into theory and application of art and architecture. :)
To: Queen
From: Eames
Subject: Re: hi
I'm glad you're doing all right, Ariadne. I'll admit it... I've been worried for a long time.
Eames wasn't entirely surprised to have his phone ring not long after he sent the message. He supposed they were online, considering how rapidly the responses had come in. "Hullo," he said, not recognizing the number on his cell phone.
"Eames," Ariadne said, and he felt a distinct ache hearing her voice again. "Don't worry, it's impossible to trace this."
"That'll send up flags."
"Arthur's grumbling, but he'll manage to delete them. Won't you?" she asked, voice clearly directed at Arthur next to her. Eames couldn't quite hear his reply. "Well, he will."
Eames had to laugh at the sound of Arthur grumbling next to Ariadne. "Glad to know that you're still you."
"Well, yes," she said, and it sounded as though she plopped herself into a seat. "Learning new things all the time, figuring out how to make things better." Eames could almost imagine her eager expression based on the smile in her voice. "I'm actually really good at this. The building I used to do is nothing compared to what I can do now. It's amazing. It's pure creation."
"I'm glad you like it, darling," he said, voice warm and sincere. He had missed her something fierce, and hearing her this way brought it all back.
Ariadne let out a sigh. "Arthur's making his unhappy face. You're going to do something dangerous, aren't you?" she asked.
It was bizarre, that she would talk about Arthur to him as if they were an ordinary couple. Eames was still fairly convinced that Arthur had twisted and warped her mind somehow, drawing on her past history of abuse to reel her in. He couldn't prove it and couldn't even talk about it; Ariadne loved him and had given up her entire life to be with him.
To be honest, he was jealous of that kind of devotion. He'd never been on the receiving end of it.
"Eames," Ariadne said in a wheedling tone. "You can tell me what it is, can't you? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
"You'd tell Arthur, and he already knows more than he should," Eames replied grumpily. "How does he know about all that?"
Ariadne laughed. "Some of it is the Network, some of it is from his real life job. There's no mystery to it." She sobered and let out a sigh. "Really, though... Can I help? I'd like to if I can."
"Best you stay out of it, Ariadne," Eames told her. "It's not pleasant stuff, and it's probably going to be dangerous. Bad enough I'm still on the radar."
He could imagine her chewing on a thumbnail in thought or biting her lip. It was that long, thinking kind of pause that she always used to make, processing information before coming to a conclusion. "So you really can't contact anyone you used to know?"
"That's why I contacted Arthur," he admitted. "I don't want anything getting back to anyone I know that I want to keep out of the business. Mainly Yusuf at this point. I talked to one or two people I used to know, but they're either out of the business or dead."
"You're going to need a team," Ariadne began, and he could hear the excitement in her voice.
"You don't even know what this is about. It's definitely on the wrong side of legal and it's certainly not safe."
He could almost hear her pouting through the phone. "I'm trained for this kind of thing."
"Not quite," Eames demurred. "You were with an agency willing to keep you around, and Saito tried hard to move heaven and earth to find you. These people that I'll be working for don't give a shit. They hung me out to dry once, and they'll probably do it again. I don't want you involved."
"Then why are you working for them?" Ariadne asked quietly.
"I don't have a choice and I can't just disappear."
"I'm sorry, Eames," Ariadne murmured.
"Yeah. Me, too."
***
Thanks to the access through the Ghost Network, Eames was able to contact Yusuf easily. He understood Eames' reluctance to contact him over the phone, and wasn't willing to compromise his current stable position. Yusuf had known Shelley through the Network, and had offered up her name as a UK-based point man. Hate to break it to you, Eames had to write back in response, but she's dead. I shot her in the head myself four years ago.
Not possible, was Yusuf's reply. Unless someone else got her access codes? She posted something on a UK board a month ago. I can get you the link if you want.
Eames stared at the screen in shock. If someone else had seamlessly moved into Shelley's life four years ago, his odds of surviving this particular mission just improved.
Get me the link and find out if I can contact her by a safe channel. I'm being watched, so the Network might be the only way to do that.
Be careful, my friend, Yusuf wrote. I'm looking into some of what you told me about, and it doesn't look good.
The worst part of it was, Eames had barely told Yusuf anything.
A new message showed up in the Network inbox. Eames clicked on the icon and frowned when he saw it was a message from Arthur. With some trepidation, Eames opened the message to see what it had to say.
Arthur was going to try a system wide private chat feature to the message boards, which would use the same kind of encryption as the PM system and the main forum areas. It should make contacting others easier than constantly refreshing the inbox page for conversations. It was an opt-in feature, and Eames immediately clicked the link that would allow him to make use of that feature.
He didn't want to be grateful to the bastard, but it was probably going to be very useful in his immediate future.
***
***
To chapter two!
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. I like making his toys do naughty, naughty things.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU fic to the movie and a direct sequel to the Ghost Network, so you absolutely need to read that one first. There's violence, language, eventually graphic sex and torture (that will get marked) and various characters screwing with each others' heads. Also incorporates the following prompt from round 10 of the
inception_kink meme: Ariadne and Arthur have to rescue Eames from some debacle he's in.
Summary: Inspector Eames had several different roles to play in helping the British government. Not all of them were savory, and none of them were entirely safe.
Sleeper Cell
Superintendent Mayhew ducked into Inspector Eames' office. The office was a tiny box of space, but folders and papers were strewn everywhere in apparent disarray. Mayhew knew better; he had supervised Eames for years and knew that the man only appeared disorganized on the surface. He was the kind of man that looked at every little detail, so he needed space to shuffle through things. He had been back from the United States for a few months now, and had dove into his work with his usual kind of single-minded intensity. He was working on another serial murder case, scratching notes on a pad as he shuffled through different sheets of paper on his desk. Eames' head was bent over his pad, dark blond hair mussed as he ran his fingers through it as he thought. His tie had been tossed aside somewhere, and the striped shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. He didn't even look up as Mayhew entered the office.
Mayhew had gotten a bit portly since becoming Superintendent, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He wasn't much in the looks department, but that wasn't how he got ahead at Scotland Yard. He was a quick thinker and a good manager, and he worked well in his little niche. He was starting to go gray at the temples and there were fine wrinkles around his dark eyes; he liked to think it made him look a bit more distinguished and less like he was getting too old. Mayhew cleared his throat, making Eames finally look up. "I need a word, Eames."
"I'd offer a place to sit, but I've no chairs," Eames replied. His pen was poised over the pad. "Don't tell me there's another body."
Mayhew smiled. "No, no, nothing like that, thank God. Apparently, our killer took some time off for hols."
"If only we could," Eames drawled. He didn't want to think of his empty flat or the fact that he was alone. Max was stateside with his wife, and they were expecting a baby in the summer. Yusuf was having the time of his life doing legitimate research and publishing under the auspices of Quantico with Stephen Miles. Some of his old friends still kept in contact, but they all had families and lives outside of work.
He tried not to think of Ariadne. She had made her choice, which stung, and thinking about her just brought out the old hurt.
Mayhew paused, as if searching for the right words to say. Eames sighed. "Out with it. This isn't a social call."
"You're being taken off this case, Eames."
"Bloody hell! I'm close, I know I am. This fucker knows the girls, and I'm pretty sure it's the-"
"Eames," Mayhew said, his firm tone interrupting Eames' protest. "It's not my order."
Eames' lips compressed into a fine line. "Whose is it, then?"
"MI6 is requesting your other skills."
Tossing his pen across his desk in anger, Eames leaned back. "Fuck. Can I say no?"
"You're going to refuse MI6?"
"You said it was a request..."
"They request the way the way I make requests, Eames," Mayhew said sharply. He took in the disarray of the office. "I agree with you, for what it's worth. I'm going to put Mickey and Alan on that. They might have everything tied up by Epiphany."
"Mayhew..."
"It's not my order," Mayhew repeated, turning back to look at Eames. His expression was stony. "They need you to go under."
"The last time..."
"I did bring that up. You nearly died, and I don't fancy losing one of my best Inspectors just because they don't have anyone good to back you up." He took in Eames' surprise and nodded. "They said you can build your own team to do what you need to do. Whoever you want, whatever the cost. They don't care."
"Fuck. It's got to be bad."
"Oh, I'm sure it's worse than whatever you're thinking." At Eames' incredulous look, Mayhew merely smiled grimly. "It's MI6, Eames. When the fuck is it ever good?"
Eames rubbed at his jaw and ran his fingers through his hair. "What am I looking at, here?"
"One of their own went rogue," Mayhew said, handing over a slim folder labeled Classified. "This was all they'd give me because of my clearance level. They'd brief you in full once you got on board to work with them."
Cracking open the folder, he glanced at the very brief dossier that Mayhew had read through. It was really skeletal, not much to go on in the slightest. "This says nothing, Mayhew. It's even less than they've given me before. They want me to go after a chemist. Is this a bloody joke?"
"He wasn't just a chemist, I gather," Mayhew told him dryly. "They're giving you until tomorrow to get back to them on this."
"So much time," Eames scoffed. He tossed the folder onto his desk and folded his arms over his chest. Maybe he could refuse the thinly veiled order. It wasn't as if he worked for MI6 any longer, after all. "Why should I? They haven't done me any bleeding favors."
"Let's just say, I got the impression that your life expectancy would drop if you didn't take it," Mayhew told him slowly. "They don't intend to take no for an answer."
"If they're letting me build my own team, they definitely won't take no for an answer," Eames agreed with a sigh.
"You call me if you need to," Mayhew told him in a low tone. "None of that solo hero bullshit that you pulled in Mombasa, got it?"
Eames shot him a weary sigh. "Yeah, well, who will handle all your tough cases if I'm dead?"
"Exactly!" Mayhew agreed with a nod. He left Eames' office, leaving the Inspector to think about MI6's "request." If this was going to be as bad as he thought it was, he was going to pull in as much help as he could get.
***
"Don't even think about coming over here," Eames practically hissed over the phone. He had called his friend Max to see if he knew of anyone in England or Northern Europe that might be willing to play MI6's game. Anyone farther away than that wouldn't be able to get there in time to be briefed.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Max told him with a laugh. "I'm off the grid and very happy to stay that way. I still say you should've come with me. It's safer this way, and MI6 wouldn't be able to twist your balls this way." There was more than a trace of seriousness and regret in his tone. "I've said it over hundred thousand times, Eames. You should've walked away when you had the chance seven years ago."
"No, I couldn't have," Eames said with a sigh. "I couldn't just stay hidden and silent. You know me, mate."
Max's sigh was heavy. "I do. Can't know a bloke for ten years without knowing a thing or two about them or their skills, that's for sure." He blew out a breath. "And any word from the Dream Killer? Or do you really think he's left you alone?"
Eames never told Max about the Dream Killer and the Ghost Network mod being one and the same. He never said that he had met Arthur, that Ariadne was still alive, that Eames was keeping silent about the twisted way the two of them had met and gotten together. He didn't know how he could even begin to tell that story, so it was just as well it wasn't his story to tell.
"He's leaving me alone and the case is closed. No reason to shadow me now."
"I still worry about that, Eames," Max said in a low, serious tone. Eames supposed he didn't want his wife to hear him and worry. "Just dump everything and go. I'll hook you up, find a place safe for you to start again. It's too dangerous."
It was touching, if unnecessary. "I'm fine. The biggest thing to worry about right now is why MI6 is yanking me from the Yard. I was doing well off their radar, and much happier that way. I prefer the simple serial killings than international logistics."
Max sighed. "So few of the old crowd is left, Eames. Most ran to ground. I don't have anyone to rec you, and honestly, I'd rather you left."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate," Eames drawled. "Fine, then. I'm off to troll the underbelly of London. I'll see what overturning a few logs will do for me."
"Stay safe, Eames." Max sounded worried, which gave Eames pause. "If you need me, just call."
"I will, Max. Really. Thanks."
***
"So is it Daniela, Donna or Diane this time?"
Eames slid into place at the bar beside a bottled redhead. It was a particularly dodgy bar in a dingy part of town, someplace no respectable law officer would be located. He knew enough of the locals to pass as one if he needed to, and he knew this particular woman at the bar.
"Denise, actually," she said, curling her lip at him in annoyance. "I thought you kept track better than that, love." She raked her dark eyes over his frame and turned back to her drink. She was dressed in tight clothes and had a thick leather jacket on, her shoulders hunched a bit. She was thinner than he remembered, her olive skin looking almost sallow. He wondered if he would find needle marks along her arms, and if it would be from smack or somnacin. She glared at him, voice seething with anger. "Why are you here?"
"Are you working?"
"Fuck you."
"I meant in dreams, Denise."
She looked at him with a disbelieving expression. "After that last warning you gave me?"
"You didn't exactly leave me any choice, sweetheart," Eames snapped, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I was in intensive care for a week after that stunt you pulled."
"If it was you or me, it sure as hell wasn't going to be me." She turned back to her drink. "I don't do that anymore."
"Shall I check your arms, Denise?"
"Fuck you, Eames."
"I have a job," he said after waiting a beat. "If not you, then who?"
She turned bleary eyes toward him. "Going through the old list, then?"
"I'm cutting to the cream of the crop, if I can."
"I don't dream anymore, Eames," she said tiredly, rubbing at her jaw. "With or without drugs. It burned me out. So I guess you get your revenge after all."
"Denise..."
"Go find Shelley. She'll know who's still in the game. I dropped out after your warning. Seriously, I don't do that shit anymore. I just deal it."
Eames took in the droop of her shoulders. "I'm sorry I had to do that," he murmured.
"Bullshit," she replied, taking a drink. "It's just work, right? Just business. Being a good little soldier and following orders. I get it."
Feeling sorry for her, he pulled out some money and pushed it across the bar at her. It was really only a quirk of fate that landed him on the right side of the law, after all. "I'll talk to Shelley. You take care of yourself, Denise."
She palmed the money but didn't reply. Nodding at her, he left the bar, a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. Denise was definitely out of the game if she thought Shelley was still alive. A lot of the old crowd was gone or dead, and he'd worked to drum a lot of them out of the business. He had few contacts left that he trusted, and a handful of them that he didn't.
He was running out of options. He was going to have to use the Network.
***
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Contact permissions
I need to contact Yusuf in a way that can't be traced. Can you help me out?
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
That depends on what it's about.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
You don't need to know what I'm working on, you wanker!
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
Of course I do. It's my network.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I need information regarding a chemist, and I'm going to need help getting a team together.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
MI6 finally contacted you, I see. I can give you access to Yusuf via PM. They're watching you closely, so I wouldn't advise even disposable phones for calling him. He shouldn't come to the UK either. You should contact Ariadne. She misses you.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know too much about what's going on.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
I'm supposed to know what's happening, remember? Contact Ariadne. She misses you.
To: GNMod
From: Eames
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
Leave it alone and stay out of my business.
To: Eames
From: GNMod
Subject: Re: Contact permissions
You upset her. That makes it my business. Contact her.
Eames stared at the latest message on his computer screen. He hadn't wanted to go this route, but he wanted Yusuf's expertise without endangering him or letting anyone at MI6 know about him. Yusuf had a good deal going with the FBI, and Eames wasn't about to ruin it for him. It was really the only way he could protect Yusuf that he could think of. It was all right if anyone else knew they were friends, but it would kill Eames to know that he dragged Yusuf down that path.
It was why he had never told anyone about Ariadne's ability to know when she was under without a totem. He knew that some of the assholes he had worked with at MI6 would get wind of it and interrogate her about that ability, looking for a way to train others. He hadn't wanted her involved, because the dream agents for the MI6 were even more ruthless than Cobb had been in getting what they wanted.
No regulation, no crime, no liability.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. This was exactly the problem that had sucked Ariadne into Arthur's twisted world, making her feel on some level that she had to dispense justice personally to those that abused their positions of power with helpless sleepers.
Eames probably wasn't that much better than those lowlifes right about now.
To: Queen
From: Eames
Subject: hi
I'm sorry it's taken me this long to contact you. Are you all right?
To: Eames
From: Queen
Subject: Re: hi
I missed you! I've followed the news as best as I could to see how you were doing. I guess you were really busy with work. I remember what that's like. :)
I've been keeping busy, learning more about dream sharing in other countries. Not all of it is strictly legal, of course, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Some of my old interest in art and history has been coming in handy, though. Apparently my ability to build things in dreams comes from that, and I've been learning more about being an architect. It's been really amazing, and a great excuse to look into theory and application of art and architecture. :)
To: Queen
From: Eames
Subject: Re: hi
I'm glad you're doing all right, Ariadne. I'll admit it... I've been worried for a long time.
Eames wasn't entirely surprised to have his phone ring not long after he sent the message. He supposed they were online, considering how rapidly the responses had come in. "Hullo," he said, not recognizing the number on his cell phone.
"Eames," Ariadne said, and he felt a distinct ache hearing her voice again. "Don't worry, it's impossible to trace this."
"That'll send up flags."
"Arthur's grumbling, but he'll manage to delete them. Won't you?" she asked, voice clearly directed at Arthur next to her. Eames couldn't quite hear his reply. "Well, he will."
Eames had to laugh at the sound of Arthur grumbling next to Ariadne. "Glad to know that you're still you."
"Well, yes," she said, and it sounded as though she plopped herself into a seat. "Learning new things all the time, figuring out how to make things better." Eames could almost imagine her eager expression based on the smile in her voice. "I'm actually really good at this. The building I used to do is nothing compared to what I can do now. It's amazing. It's pure creation."
"I'm glad you like it, darling," he said, voice warm and sincere. He had missed her something fierce, and hearing her this way brought it all back.
Ariadne let out a sigh. "Arthur's making his unhappy face. You're going to do something dangerous, aren't you?" she asked.
It was bizarre, that she would talk about Arthur to him as if they were an ordinary couple. Eames was still fairly convinced that Arthur had twisted and warped her mind somehow, drawing on her past history of abuse to reel her in. He couldn't prove it and couldn't even talk about it; Ariadne loved him and had given up her entire life to be with him.
To be honest, he was jealous of that kind of devotion. He'd never been on the receiving end of it.
"Eames," Ariadne said in a wheedling tone. "You can tell me what it is, can't you? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
"You'd tell Arthur, and he already knows more than he should," Eames replied grumpily. "How does he know about all that?"
Ariadne laughed. "Some of it is the Network, some of it is from his real life job. There's no mystery to it." She sobered and let out a sigh. "Really, though... Can I help? I'd like to if I can."
"Best you stay out of it, Ariadne," Eames told her. "It's not pleasant stuff, and it's probably going to be dangerous. Bad enough I'm still on the radar."
He could imagine her chewing on a thumbnail in thought or biting her lip. It was that long, thinking kind of pause that she always used to make, processing information before coming to a conclusion. "So you really can't contact anyone you used to know?"
"That's why I contacted Arthur," he admitted. "I don't want anything getting back to anyone I know that I want to keep out of the business. Mainly Yusuf at this point. I talked to one or two people I used to know, but they're either out of the business or dead."
"You're going to need a team," Ariadne began, and he could hear the excitement in her voice.
"You don't even know what this is about. It's definitely on the wrong side of legal and it's certainly not safe."
He could almost hear her pouting through the phone. "I'm trained for this kind of thing."
"Not quite," Eames demurred. "You were with an agency willing to keep you around, and Saito tried hard to move heaven and earth to find you. These people that I'll be working for don't give a shit. They hung me out to dry once, and they'll probably do it again. I don't want you involved."
"Then why are you working for them?" Ariadne asked quietly.
"I don't have a choice and I can't just disappear."
"I'm sorry, Eames," Ariadne murmured.
"Yeah. Me, too."
***
Thanks to the access through the Ghost Network, Eames was able to contact Yusuf easily. He understood Eames' reluctance to contact him over the phone, and wasn't willing to compromise his current stable position. Yusuf had known Shelley through the Network, and had offered up her name as a UK-based point man. Hate to break it to you, Eames had to write back in response, but she's dead. I shot her in the head myself four years ago.
Not possible, was Yusuf's reply. Unless someone else got her access codes? She posted something on a UK board a month ago. I can get you the link if you want.
Eames stared at the screen in shock. If someone else had seamlessly moved into Shelley's life four years ago, his odds of surviving this particular mission just improved.
Get me the link and find out if I can contact her by a safe channel. I'm being watched, so the Network might be the only way to do that.
Be careful, my friend, Yusuf wrote. I'm looking into some of what you told me about, and it doesn't look good.
The worst part of it was, Eames had barely told Yusuf anything.
A new message showed up in the Network inbox. Eames clicked on the icon and frowned when he saw it was a message from Arthur. With some trepidation, Eames opened the message to see what it had to say.
Arthur was going to try a system wide private chat feature to the message boards, which would use the same kind of encryption as the PM system and the main forum areas. It should make contacting others easier than constantly refreshing the inbox page for conversations. It was an opt-in feature, and Eames immediately clicked the link that would allow him to make use of that feature.
He didn't want to be grateful to the bastard, but it was probably going to be very useful in his immediate future.
***
***
To chapter two!