Chapter 10: A Way To Keep My Mouth Shut

Not at all ready to be around masses of other people, I give the Captain orders to sail us down the island chain and around, giving him permission to send out for supplies and whatnot. So the green horizon stays on our left, I will stay safely swept under the rug in my current weak state, and Eames will keep putting patches behind his ears and gazing pensively at the landmasses as if they are his only escape from a nightmare.

"Bad news," Kirsten says over speaker phone. I have ended the vow of silence, or at least, suspended it for the middle of the day when I know I am unlikely to blurt things. "The blonde guy that seduced the two of you has disappeared."

Eames and I trade looks at Kirsten's jab, but let it go. I ask angrily, "Disappeared, what do you mean disappeared?"

"Saito is hiding him somewhere, no doubt. Anyway, we can't find him because we can't touch Saito."

"Why not?"

"International jurisdiction—extradition—it's a bureaucratic nightmare. Anyway, it's our word against his. We don't have much."

"What about Dr. Evais? She has proof—"

"She has proof someone entered your mind and left a few harmless dream fragments. At best we might be able to charge Saito with attempted Falsifying True Inspiration which will be the same fine Brinker paid, something Saito'll just sneeze at."

"Thanks Kirsten," I say. I turn off the phone and drop my face into my hands.

"Do you know what I don't get?" I ask after a moment. "How did Prett survive this scott-free? If it was all the same thing they did, then why isn't his mind torn?"

"Well," Eames begins thickly. He clears his throat. "As I understand it, they got the idea in place but it didn't stick."

"It didn't stick here either!" I say with a frantic shrug. "Whatever weak-ass business plan they wanted to impregnate me with was torn to shreds with the rest of my filter. Now all the bigger questions—" I cut off.

"Who am I now? Who should I be? Does God exist?" he supplies. It is such a spot on list that I am sure I must have been walking around this boat muttering it. I close my eyes and nod. "Yeah."

"Well, you are Robert Fischer, a thirty one year old gay man, a CEO born for power and wealth and luxury, a tad bit selfish and judgmental, but over all you've secretly a heart of some kind of gold, and you really shouldn't be anything else, ever….. oh, and if you care for my two cents on the matter: God has bigger problems than you and me."

I look down at my fingernails. "Sounds like you got me all figured out."

"I've read a temporarily open book."

I appreciate the word temporarily. "It's not fair. I'm not learning anything about you."

"I'm Eames, a thirty year old gay man with a past of recklessness and here I am quickly getting attached to yet more…trouble," he finishes with a smile to show he wants a different word for it but this one is not wrong.

I am nothing but trouble right now. I look out to sea for a minute and then ask, "Did you call me selfish and judgmental?"

"You keep calling me fat, and we never do what I want to do," he defends.

"That's because all you want to do is me," I say with a laugh.

"Not true," he says, not laughing. "I just want to kiss you again."

The ready confession makes me sigh and close my eyes. He steps closer, remembering to stand up straight. "No honestly, can I just kiss you again? That's all, I promise. Think of it this way, it'll be a way to keep your mouth shut."

I bite my lip to control my grin. My heart is pounding. Then I nod.

Hazel eyes spark, big lips part. Two big hands encase my face, brush gently back over my ears and his warm mouth covers mine. It's electric, my lips are tingling, and my breath thins out like I am smothered in blankets. I'm smothered in him.

The kiss breaks so I can gasp some air. He licks his lips and I realize he is shaking in the half second his hands stay on me, and then he is moving back. I move with him. "Where are you going?"

He shakes his head, still retreating. "You're not—ready for this, darling."

That stops me, because it's true. I'm not ready to see what happens when I lose what little control over myself that I have anymore, and if Eames keeps kissing me like that then I won't have the control it will take to stop anything from happening. Judging from his shakiness, he has little self-control too. Mostly, I am struck by the honor in what he's doing. He's respecting me.

"Thank you," I say somewhat weakly to his back. He lifts a hand to show he heard as he disappears back inside. I rub at my lips, still all tingly.