As promised for you lovely readers, Part II! Thanks to all who review and subscribe for alerts (glad you're enjoying the story)—sadly time keeps me from being a regularly active participant on this site, so I really do appreciate those I hear from.

And yes, I did update the summary since this story has more of a direction now (or should I change it back?).

Hope you enjoy! (and early Happy Halloween!)

xxx

Chapter 9: Reveal Part II

A bitter taste filled her mouth as her eyes opened to darkness, moving her head slightly on the pillow.

"Oh crap…" She breathed deep, rolling face-first in her pillow, her head feeling like it could explode at the slight movement. A gentle hand fell to her back and she turned, squinting in the faint light, thunder pounding in the back of her head. She suddenly felt like crying when she met Arthur's small, drowsy smile.

"Hey," his voice was low, soft, "you should sit up, drink some water. It will help."

"Do I have to? I feel like crap." She mumbled as she rolled over onto her back, grimacing as a bedside light switched on, agitating her head. On top of being hung-over, how could she possibly tell him what happened with Eames?

"Yeah, come on love, you'll be glad for it in the morning." Slowly she propped herself up on an elbow, feeling Arthur's arm wrap around hers supportively as she took a glass from him in her other hand. Eagerly she drank, enjoying the cool chill of the liquid in her dry, tequila flavored mouth. She handed back the empty glass, not sure what to say next, but knowing what needed to be said.

"Arthur, I….—god, I have to tell—"

"I know," he simply said, hating the distressed look on her face, placing the glass back on the table. "Eames told me everything when I came home and found you on the couch curled up with him."

"Everything…? About the…body shots and making out?" Arthur nodded silently watching her eyes sink closed, head falling in shame. "How can you still want me here?" He reached out to hold her close, drawing her to lie against him as he shifted back to sit against the headboard.

"How could I not want you here? I know it was an honest mistake—Eames is a master of people. He's smart enough to figure out what they want or what's going on in their mind, and use that to get a reaction or what he wants. It makes him a hell of an effective forger, but damn near impossible to be around otherwise."

"I'm so sorry Arthur. I didn't mean for things to get so carried away." He tightened his hold on her, feeling her hand come to rest against his chest as she snuggled into his shoulder. He fought back a sigh, knowing he was no better.

"You're alright—it's ok." He whispered comfortingly, placing a kiss on her brow. She pulled herself up, fighting the throbbing in her head, to place a soft kiss on his neck, and another. Something eerily familiar reached her nose. She breathed deep, the smell that had been intoxicating to her earlier filling her senses.

"You smell like him." She mumbled sleepily against his neck.

"You remember what he smells like?" Even he couldn't believe his words.

"Mmmhmm, his didn't help the situation—a spice, smoke…."

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

"You still haven't answered the question." He paused, not sure she had actually asked a question, but knowing the implied question was why.

"The answer is important enough that you deserve to hear it in a more awake state."

"Really? I mean, come on, it's not like you made out with him too…." She noticed his body tense ever so slightly, her eyes widening as no response came. "Arthur?" Gingerly she eased from his shoulder to look him in the eye, seeing something she'd never before seen. "You didn't, did you?"

"I won't lie to you—I did tonight, I did four years ago." She swore a faint blush crept to his cheeks. "You'll see an eerily similar pattern—he was staying here, convinced me to go out drinking, and somehow got us back here—drunkest I'd been since college. He gave me the same line—a new life experience—and before long, we fell into bed together." Arthur shook his head gently as though just understanding the whole situation. "But since that night he's made it known he wants nothing more than for him and me to become something real. I've never once returned that level of feeling for him." Ariadne sat almost stunned. But somewhere, deep down, she couldn't honestly say she was surprised. There was always just something a little too personal in their banter and in Eames' pet names.

"So…he means it when he calls you 'darling ' and 'love' and any of those other pet names?"

"His own little private joke on the world, he told me once."

"But that makes so much sense. There's just always been something more to you two that I couldn't put my finger on." She looked at him with a curious little smile as though seeing him in a new light. "So you two 'fell into bed together?' That's a lame poetic, G-rated answer. Surely there's juicy details—did he go down on you or you on him?" She had to ask. She still almost couldn't believe Arthur had let Eames seduce him.

"Little of both."

"I would never have figured you as bi." A hint of disgust flashed in his tired eyes.

"I don't prefer a label. Eames is, truthfully, the only man I have ever considered."

"I think you did a little more than just consider him, Arthur. You slept with him." She settled back against his shoulder, loving the relief it brought to her throbbing head, feeling his arm tighten around her. "So you had the all out gall to kiss him tonight while I lay passed out in his arms?

"He kissed me…like I told him, just because I'm married doesn't mean I stop feeling attraction."

"You allowed him to kiss you then, while I lay there passed out?"

"I won't apologize for it."

"You don't regret it?"

"No. Do you regret making out with him?"

"No…at the time, it's what I wanted."

"But not long term." She nodded in agreement against his shoulder, tilting her head to look up at him with a drowsy smile and yawn, ready to be rid of the hammering in her head. "Does this make us a bad couple—that we recognize our attraction to others, act on it, and are so quick to come back and forgive each other?"

"No," the surety on his voice made her want to melt, "I have what I want right here with me, come what may." He turned his head, lowering it to meet her lips in a kiss that spoke more than words. She raised a hand to his face, holding him to her lips, loving him all the more. "You really should sleep now love." He whispered softly, placing a kiss to her brow, reaching over to the switch off the light. "Tomorrow night I'll prove to you I'm every inch the man Eames is and then some—and I know, I've see it." She outburst laugh, lightly slapping his chest.

"Oh god, Arthur."She sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace . "Don't say that again." A laugh rumbled in his chest, holding her tight as she relaxed into him. Sure, her desire for Eames may have been a white hot flame easily quenched, but here in Arthur's arms was a smoldering contentment that would never go out.

xxx

She'd never found the kitchen chairs particularly comfortable, but this morning she wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere. The steaming mug of tea on the table was soothing to her senses as she breathed deep the fine aroma.

"Hot enough for you?" She looked up at Arthur's voice to where he stood at the kitchen counter.

"Yes, thank you." She said softly, squinting as she glanced about the bright room, eyes drifting back to Arthur. She still marveled at his catlike grace as he seamlessly moved between making oatmeal, toasting cinnamon bread, brewing coffee. And damn he looked better than ever to her hungover eyes in two out of three pieces of a signature suit cut so perfectly to his every curve. She could just watch him move all day.

"See something you like?" Slowly her eyes moved up his body focusing to his face, fighting back an embarrassed blush at the slight knowing smile on his face.

"Maybe." She said dopily.

"You're cute when you stare." He turned from her to pour a mug of coffee, loving her little laugh, turning with a smile as Eames entered the kitchen, looking his usual self. "Good morning. Coffee?"

"Perhaps in a minute, you go on." Eames said casually glancing about as Arthur moved to the kitchen table with coffee. Ariadne sipped her tea, watching Arthur sort through sections of the paper before returning to the counter to retrieve his toast and oatmeal. Eames skirted around him, mug and toast in hand, moving towards the kitchen table. "And look at you," he said amiably, watching her fuzzy eyes rise to his, "you don't look too bad." A guffaw escaped her throat.

"And you're…charming as always." A yawn hinged on the end of her words as Arthur joined them at the table.

"Why are you up so early anyway?" Eames asked.

"It's his fault." She inclined her head towards Arthur.

"Yes," Eames agreed, fishing through the newspaper sections after Arthur retrieved the section he wanted, "he is quite the slave driver." He pulled the paper free, placing it in front of him, a peaceable silence falling as the two men ate and read, and she sipped her hot tea. This was almost too weird. It was damn near the perfect picture of domestic tranquility, and not twenty fours ago she'd been wasted and making out with the man not her husband, who then proceeded to make out with her husband.

"Shouldn't things be more awkward than this?" She had to ask. "I mean, we've all made out with each other in the last twenty four hours."

"Probably," Eames said casually, not looking up from the paper, "thank god it's not."

"It'd be your fault if it was." Arthur said, casting Eames a sideways glance.

"So you told her." Eames said, not so much a question and more a statement.

"She more asked and figured it out." Arthur said, turning back to the paper taking a bite of toast.

"What tipped you off?" Eames turned to Ariadne.

"He smelled like you."

"You remember what I smell like?"

"That's what he said," she said almost in disbelief, "I don't get it. You both wear cologne and yet it seems to surprise you both that I remember it for its alluring qualities." She shook her head as neither man answered, a slight flush creeping to Arthur's cheeks. "So how did it happen with you two? I got a pretty glossy last night." This caught both of their attentions, Arthur's head slightly rising, Eames' eyes moving from the paper. Something of a smirk came to Eames' face as he glanced to Arthur who glared silent daggers back.

"Well Arthur's love of fine bourbon is easily exploited by a quick hand. If you never let a glass empty below a certain point, it's easy to keep switching them out for fuller glasses—"

"He purposely got me drunk, to make a long story short." Arthur cut in.

"You weren't as drunk as you like to let on—surely you can admit it now," Eames countered, turning to Ariadne. "Taxi ride back, he dozed off, originally back against the headrest, but eventually rolled over to my shoulder, pure temptation."

"I don't remember that." Arthur added, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Eames.

"Of course not darling, remember, you had dozed off."

"So you took advantage of him in his sleep?" Ariadne ventured curiously as Eames turned back.

"Not at all. Woke him up when the taxi pulled up and he walked to the elevator, leaned heavily against the railing as I recall, but carried himself all the way back here. Tripped over my feet as I sat on the couch, right darling? And then…." He turned to Arthur with something of a sly look as if remembering every detail, waiting for the point man to finish his oatmeal and take over.

"And then…," Ariadne watched with a small smile as the color returned to Arthur's cheeks as he spoke, "he kissed me and didn't stop."

"You never asked me to darling." Eames shot Arthur a charming smile watching the corners of Arthur's mouth turn in a barely noticeable smile. Ariadne couldn't help the little smile on her face. In a different setting, they would have made a cute, though volatile, couple. But Eames would have a hell of a fight on his hands if he tried to steal Arthur from her now.

"Well I'm impressed," Ariadne said looking to Eames, "you talk about it remarkably well," her eyes settled on Arthur, smile widening, "both of you."

"It cuts deeper than you know." Eames said softly, not looking at either as he finished his coffee. She turned from Arthur's eyes, yawning and stretching in her chair, finishing the rest of her tea.

"Well I think I'll go for a shower." She said lazily.

"Alright. Leave your mug, I'll get it." Arthur said, reclining back in the chair to enjoy the last drinks of his coffee.

"Thanks." She uncurled her legs out from underneath her, stretching to wake up and shake off the hangover. A steady vibrating buzz sounded in the silence, eyes settling on Eames as he reached for his pocket, face unreadable as he retrieved his phone.

"Excuse me please." He said quickly, rising and moving for the guest room, closing the door behind him. Ariadne shrugged it off, rising and moving around the table, running a hand through her hair. Arthur's hand shot out, grabbing her free hand, attempting to draw her close.

"Come here." He near whispered, eyes intent on her as she stepped closer to him, a hand falling to his shoulder. He craned upwards, meeting her halfway in a slow, near teasing kiss, tasting the coffee roast on his tongue in fleeting touches, her hand running gently through his hair. "Enjoy your shower love." He whispered against her lips.

"Mmmm," she near purred, "too bad you're already dressed, or I'd ask you to join me." She nipped his lip quickly, jumping back before he could pull her back watching his eyes narrow in a playful smirk.

"Don't forget what I promised you last night." He called out after her as she strolled away, watching her wave a dismissive hand.

"You can claim it all you want, but you'll never have proof." He debated about answering as she rounded the bedroom door, but thought better of it. Eames was on the phone after all. Arthur rose, heading for the counter to pour himself a half cup of coffee. Quietly he returned to the table, fishing through other newspaper sections, content to sit in the silence and read with the occasional sip of coffee. He had several job offers in front of him, and hadn't yet confirmed with anyone. This afternoon would consist of determining the best job in terms of risk and reward, but for now, the peaceful morning was suiting him just fine.

He couldn't be sure exactly just how much time had passed when he heard the opening of the guest bedroom door, footsteps shuffling in the foyer accented by the drop of a heavy bag. Arthur turned curiously, to see Eames returning from the foyer, his face drawn, blank.

"Eames?" He called softly watching the other man swallow hard and look around as though searching for words.

"I need to leave soon."

"Why the sudden hurry?" Arthur asked conversationally as he rose, moving for the counter to set his coffee mug down.

"I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you." The remorse on his voice was lost to Arthur whose gaze narrowed as he turned around to face Eames.

"Honest about what?" Eames knew that tone—the cold, serious tone of the point man.

"Cobol Engineering found me—knew me from Cobb's visit," Arthur stilled at the name, "might say they were waiting for me on my return to Mombasa after the Fisher job. Simply put, they want you and Cobb dead."

"The Fischer job was two years ago. Why now suddenly?"

"Only so long I can keep lying before the own up on their threats." Something of an amused smile ghosted across Eames' face before disappearing.

"Convenient lie," Arthur spat, "given our past, you knew I would believe it."

"It wasn't entirely a lie. Cobol has threatened to hand my person over for appendage removal as payment of said debts, and as I've witnessed them demonstrate their power, I'm inclined to oblige them."

"At least after everything," memories flashed in Arthur's mind, lips curling in a snarl "you're telling me your betrayal to my face."

"If I intended to lead them to you, I would have done so already. But you should get out of Paris." He reached into his suit jacket, fishing out a card that Arthur immediately recognized. "It won't be long before word of an Arthur Trent, specializing in dream security with an office based in Paris reaches Cobol's ears. They'll be smart enough to fit the pieces together and come looking for you."

"You don't have to do this."

"Survival is a remarkable instinct, as I'm sure you well know. If I'm not looking out for me, no one is."

"And where does that leave me? Uprooting my life—my wife—and running around the globe so you can sit back on your ass."

"God, you weren't supposed to have her…make this harder," Eames's head slightly dipped, "don't take her with you. Lie, disappear—go find Cobb. Cobol knows him by name." Arthur's eyes sunk closed, forcing a hard swallow.

"Which means they're after an Arthur Chambers, correct?"

"Exactly. So I'd drop that alias if you haven't already." Arthur's eyes opened, glancing from Eames' to the window, silently calculating, mulling everything over.

"What exactly have you told them?" Arthur fought to keep his voice even and restrain himself from strangling the other man.

"Nothing yet. They think I'm out on a job, but they expect something, anything, when I return. I intend to give them your so-called business card, telling them I heard about this Arthur Trent and suggest it might be the same man." Arthur crossed his arms, thinking over the Brit's plan. "So they'll run around Paris chasing a ghost, and knowing you, they'll reach a dead end. Hopefully by that time I can think of some other way to stall them."

"They won't find anything on Trent. It won't take them long to realize that."

"They don't know you as a Darren."

"Few do." Arthur's eyes returned to Eames, a silent understanding passing between them.

"I'd leave today, now." Eames said. "Not that you need to be told this—I know you know what to do better than myself. Just don't drag Ariadne along. You know what it's like."

"I just won't leave her."

"And if she gets hurt?"

"I won't let that happen." Eames was almost jealous of the raw conviction on Arthur's voice.

"Sometimes it can't be stopped." Eames sighed lightly shaking his head. "I'll do what I can to keep you informed of their movements, but no guarantees." Arthur stepped forward to the counter, scribbling a quick note.

"Ariadne's cell number," Arthur returned, extending the note to Eames. "Memorize it, burn it, don't store it. Our correspondence will be through her. Too many loose ends with my number. If they've gotten to Cobb, they have my number."

"Cobb knows you as Arthur Darren doesn't he?" Eames suddenly asked.

"In his mind, yes. On paper, I'm not sure."

"Then you better start packing." Eames turned from Arthur moving back to the foyer, Arthur following.

"Just one thing though," Arthur's face slightly softened, coming to stand next to Eames, who turned, suitcase in hand, "why'd you wait so long to tell me?"

"I had every intention of telling you until I saw Ariadne. I couldn't spoil your first Christmas together."

"And then you helped us finish up the job only so we could get out faster."

"You're not the only one with the ability to plan ahead darling." Eames cracked a small smile, eyes moving over Arthur's face as though memorizing it. "Take care of yourself, and Ariadne."

"I'd wish you the same, but it's already self-evident. We'll be in touch."

"Always." Eames turned without a second glance, opening the door and closing it quietly behind him, the now unsettling silence of the apartment returning. Arthur's eyes sunk closed in frustration and dread. Despite his ability to handle situations, he still marveled how fast things could fall to pieces. How even the best laid plans so could rapidly fail, and soundly constructed dreams collapse around him

He abruptly turned on his heels, moving for the office, snatching up his laptop and other assorted papers, a stack growing on the desk edge. He faintly registered the sound of the blow-dryer turning off in their bedroom as he moved about the apartment, closing curtains, choosing his words carefully for Ariadne.

"What are you doing?" Her voice suddenly reached his ears, softly curious.

"Eames just left."

"Oh no, he didn't mention he was leaving at breakfast. It wasn't because of last night or this morning, was it? I'm sorry I didn't get to tell him goodbye,"

"His leaving was sudden and not very pleasant—he told me the real reason he came here. An employer from a previous job is after me and Cobb. As such I, at least, can't stay here right now."

"After you…and Cobb?" Her face hardened with worry. "What did you do?"

"The job didn't go as planned, and Cobol Engineering is out to see us dead. They don't know me by name, but they know Cobb."

"Oh god." He brushed past her into the bedroom. "Where will we go?"

"Anywhere but here for starters. Eames is going to turn in the business card of our latest work endeavor, effectively killing yet another alias, so I can't stay in Paris."

"Well I'm not staying behind." She followed him in the bedroom, prepared to fight him on it.

"I didn't expect to stop you. But it would be easier without you."

"But you promised for better or worse," she leveled him with her eyes, "and if this is worse, then there's no way in hell you're getting rid of me.

"My kind of wife."

"So what do I need to do?" Suddenly she felt lost. She didn't know the first place to start.

"Pack—lightly, only what you feel you must take." He fished a black shoulder bag out of his closet, starting to fill it. She moved to her own closet, mind slightly numb as she pulled down her black Swiss backpack. Her parents got it for her when she started college and she hadn't carried it much, but it was the biggest, easiest transportable bag she had. Immediately she started grabbing clothes, stuffing them in.

"How long will we be gone?" She called over her shoulder.

"As long as it takes." She fought to keep the fear welling in her at bay. This Arthur wasn't the one who would hold her and ebb her worries. She could only hope there would be plenty of time on the airplane for that. She moved from the closet, setting her backpack on the bed, watching Arthur move towards the bed with a familiar mahogany case.

She moved to the dresser, searching the top drawer, retrieving and handing him the little lockbox key. Swiftly he opened the case, the gleaming black metal of two Sig P-226-NAVY pistols catching her eye. She had asked him once how he came about owning two standard issue Navy Seal pistols, and he had simply replied with a dark smirk that they were from a previous job. She figured they were stolen, but only because she couldn't quite picture Arthur killing two Navy Seals. Not that she'd put it past him though.

"We probably can't fly with those, you know." She said casually, stuffing a jacket in her backpack.

"I know we can't. We'll ship them, meet up with them stateside."

"Won't that seem suspicious shipping just two guns?"

"I have a contact from previous jobs."

"Is it safe to trust your contacts at this point?"

"Very few know who I actually am. Most can be trusted." He lifted the guns out of their tray, handing one to her. Deftly she took it, hefting it in her hand, remembering the feel of the weight, memories of all their trips to the practice range coming back to her. In their years together, Arthur had seen to it she improved her skill and accuracy with a pistol. Even she had been impressed how well she'd taken to it. She looked it over, just as pristine and clean as when she had last used it, running her fingers over the Navy anchor emblem imprinted in the metal. She looked up again, confusion filling her eyes as she noticed the tray out of the case, and Arthur rifling through a stack of passports.

"Holy crap," she said, with a sigh, "how many of those do you have?"

"Enough. Here are yours." He handed her a small stack, watching her eyes grow wider.

"Oh my god…you really don't waste time to you." She opened the top passport. Grace Williams. The second one, Grace Nott. Grace Adams.

"You used my middle name? Seriously? I've never liked that name."

"Ariadne is too unique. Makes you easy to remember."

"Hmm, most people can't remember it because it's so different."

"In this line of work, unique details are what make you memorable. We can't afford to stand out." He dropped a few passports in his bag, reaching for his wedding ring, pulling it from his finger.

"Does that mean no rings either?" He did his best to ignore the sad tone on her voice.

"Unfortunately. Best not to leave any detail someone might remember."

"But if someone didn't remember you wearing a ring, wouldn't wearing a ring throw them off?"

"Not a chance I'm willing to take." He opened the top drawer of his bedside table, nestling the ring back in its original box that lay untouched since their wedding day. "This is only temporary. We will come back." Slowly she slid her ring off her finger, looking at it longingly. Even though it wasn't the original from her wedding day, she still didn't want to go off and leave it behind. She jarred from her thoughts as Arthur tossed a small black bag her way across the bed, quickly stooping to her bedside table, closing her ring inside the drawer.

"What's this?" She reached for the bag, unzipping it to reveal her everyday toiletries in miniaturized form, complete with hairbrush and hair ties, liquids in airline travel size bottles enclosed in a clear plastic bag.

"You should find everything you need." He said casually, glancing around as though trying to think what he'd forgotten.

"I'm inclined to think that this level of advanced planning borders on paranoia." She said absently, zipping the bag up again before placing it in her backpack.

"Time is a luxury we can no longer afford. Had to prepare for every contingency," Arthur slung his bag over his shoulder, heading for the living room, "turn off the lights when you're done, then we need to go." She sighed almost sadly, glancing around at everything symbolizing the start of their lives together, unable to believe they had to just up and leave. After gathering a few more items and doubling back for her phone charger, she stopped in the living room, darkened by the drawn curtains, watching Arthur in the office, filling his bag with assorted papers.

"So where do we go first?" She asked as he came out of the office, noticing he'd shed the tie and vest he wore earlier, leaving them and the suit jacket behind. Even still, he pulled off the dark gray slacks and light blue dress shirt very nicely. She followed him to the foyer, glancing around one last time as he opened the apartment door, following him out.

"Seattle, after Cobb.

xxx

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Seattle and beyond…