A/N (AtlantisGirl12): Hey guys! So…SUPER sorry that this update was so long in coming. School just took over my life for the most part and sapped any energy I had to write. Never fear though; I love our fic too much to give up on it! Posting this chapter and reading all of your reviews have renewed my spirit! A HUGE thank you to everyone who has continued reading and reviewing in spite of the long delay. You are very much appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy this new installment! J

A/N (Feathered Filly): Holy donut holes, Batman! Has it really been three months since our last update? Many, many apologies, that wasn't meant to happen. It's just that real life has a way of sneaking up and taking you by surprise. That and I've also just got back from a vacation to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter! Nonetheless, hopefully with the start of the new year (even though I'm going through some pretty rough family drama) this story will be updated at a more frequent pace. That is, if we still have readers interested in this story after such a drought of no updates. Please guys, if you're still interested, please drop us reviews letting us know!

Echoes of the Past

Chapter 5

Cobb's POV

When Andrew had first walked through the bar door, Cobb had known things would go downhill fast. Despite the fact that the odds were two against three, Andrew's sheer determination and ruthlessness made him more dangerous than several men…combined. No, getting out of this one would not be easy. Even the decision to split up had been difficult. Cobb knew both Eames and Arthur were more than capable at taking care of themselves and had been doing so for a number of years. But there was a part of him that worried that someone was going to get hurt and he wouldn't be able to find them.

Dom huffed to himself as he rounded another corner. Until these two, he had never formed ties with people he worked with. I suppose that's what happens when you become a father, he thought. Arthur especially brought out that feeling in him. The point man was so professional and competent that it was often hard to remember he was just a kid.

They'll be okay. He had heard no cries of pain as they ran out of the pub, so it was safe to assume they made it out alright. Not hearing any sounds of pursuit behind him, Dom allowed himself to slow down. He paused briefly in the doorway of some decrepit building to catch his breath. Glancing down at his arms, he winced as the myriad of small cuts from the glass made their presence known. Ignoring them for the moment, he checked his gun. One shot left. He swore under his breath. He would need to find ammo fast.

He raised his head as shouts nearby caught his attention. He had already passed the marketplace…they definitely did not sound Arabic or an African dialect. His face creased into a worried frown and he broke into a run once more. He slowed down as they grew louder.

"Get in!"

Dom froze. Andrew. He cautiously approached the corner. Eames was bound and struggling as Andrew's henchman tried to force him into the van. Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Dom felt his heart drop to his feet as he took in the large stain of blood on Eames' shirt. The forger seemed relatively unharmed, meaning it could only be….Arthur.

"Naughty, naughty. You just won't learn will you?"

As Andrew raised his gun, Eames glanced up and saw Dom, opening his mouth slightly in shock. Dom saw the shadows in Eames' eyes…and something else too…Grief? Arthur couldn't be dead! He started forward, before remembering his lack of bullets. He saw the forger's eyes fill with remorse just before they slid shut in unconsciousness as Andrew brought his gun down hard on his temple.

The two men threw Eames in the truck and slammed the door shut. "Alright, let's get moving. We'll get Cobb later."

As the van started off, Dom hurried forward, crouched low to the ground. He quickly slipped his last tracking device to the bottom of the bumper, thankful he'd not left it in the room with the rest of their equipment. Darting back into the shadows, he watched the van drive away. He'd go back to the hotel to get the laptop set up and track their location. Then he'd find some ammo, somewhere. Don't worry. I'll find you, Eames. And Arthur too, wherever he is.

Eames' POV

Eames winced with every bump the van hit, hearing Arthur's slight groans despite their gags. They both had been swiftly gagged and blindfolded as soon as the van doors had closed, and Eames found the sensory deprivations disconcerting. He tensed every time he heard Andrew shift in his seat, wondering if another pistol butt was coming toward his face. His jaw still ached from where he'd been belted when he resisted the blindfold.

The vehicle jerked to a sudden stop, causing Eames to lose his balance and fall forward. Fortunately, he missed his wounded teammate. A door slid open with a bang.

"Alright, let's get 'em out," Andrew ordered.

Eames felt rough hands grab his legs and he cursed silently when his head clipped the side of the doorframe. Mmph! The skin on his knees gave out as he tumbled out of the van and onto the hard dirt road. His hope that Arthur would receive more gentle treatment shattered when he heard the point man give a muffled cry of pain as he was dragged next to Eames.

"Go on, get up!"

Eames rolled his eyes behind the blindfold. Little hard to get into standing position when you're flat out on the ground and your hands are behind your back, he thought. Hands jerked him to his feet before shoving him through some sort of doorway. His attempts to regain his balance failed as his feet met air. Oh sh… A few painful seconds later, his head was ringing and new bruises were sprouting from his bout with the stairs. Behind him, he heard their captors bringing Arthur down, rather than pushing him down as they had with Eames. Guess they didn't want him dead just yet, Eames thought morbidly.

"Never were light on your feet, were you Eames?" Andrew laughed cruelly. "Tie them up and then go hide the van. We want to make sure dear old Dominic won't be interrupting us before we finish dolling them up."

Even with the blindfold, Eames could hear the malicious sneer in the man's voice and felt a chill run up his spine. Not for the first time did he wish he had never crossed paths with Andrew. The man had always had a cruel streak, but that one time all those years ago had made him sadistic. There was no telling what he would do, except that it was guaranteed to hurt…a lot.

"No flexing, now, Eames old boy. Don't think I don't know that little trick."

Eames tried to play innocent, still keeping his arms slightly taut, hoping to retain even the slightest bit of give. In spite of himself, he jumped when he felt warm breath tickle his ear.

"Two can play at this game, Eamsie," Andrew said softly. "If you don't want to cooperate, I guess I'll just go play with your friend over there. 'Course, he's not looking too good. I don't know how long he'll be able to play. And then I'll just come back to you anyway." A fake sigh. "Still no response? The hard way it is then."

Eames gasped, choking on the gag as a fist planted itself in his solar plexus. His body sagged from the force of it, and ropes were quickly yanked tight.

"Hmm…I don't know that mere rope will hold our wily Mr. Eames, Cavendish. He is a thief after all." A jingling sound. "Let's use these instead. Don't even think about moving, Eames. I have a gun on you and have no problem with shooting you or Arthur on the spot. Understand?"

Eames nodded and felt the ropes binding him be cut away. Immediately, the rough rope was replaced by something cool and metallic. A handcuff? His guess was proved accurate as he heard the snap of the cuff around his wrist while the other was attached to some other sort of metal object. His other arm was also cuffed but to something closer to the ground.

"Alright, you can remove the blindfold and the gag, Cavendish."

Eames squinted as the cloth was removed though the light in the room was dim. They were in some sort of small basement—where, he had no idea. He quickly glanced around, searching for Arthur, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw him lying on the ground across the room. He was bound, gagged, and blindfolded and the stain on his shirt was painfully obvious, but at least his chest continued to move up and down. He was still alive. Turning back to himself, Eames glanced down to assess his own situation. His left hand was cuffed to a metal pipe running horizontally against the wall. Sitting down as he was now, the pipe was a little above his head. His other hand was cuffed to another pipe beside him, this one running vertically to the ceiling. There was no way that he could even try to pick the locks and an experimental tug on the cuffs showed there was no wriggling out of them. In effect, he was stuck.

Andrew laughed at Eames' efforts. "Like my little trick?" Eames refused to answer. Unfazed, Andrew just smirked. "That's right, save your voice now. You're going to need it later." He turned to Cavendish. "Let's get the other one set up and then you can go move the van."

"Don't have any more handcuffs, Boss."

"That's alright. I don't think he'll be going anywhere soon." He gestured to a rickety wooden chair in the corner. "Just sit him on that and tie his hands together. That'll be enough." Glancing over to where Eames was glowering, he added callously, "We can always shoot him in the leg. Or better yet, have Eames do the honors. He's already so good at it." He laughed at his sick joke.

"You ba—"

"Ah, ah, ah…Language, Eames, language." Andrew turned back to where Cavendish was about to pick Arthur up. He grabbed Arthur under his shoulders and dragged him to the chair. Through it all, the point man never made a sound, his head lolling on his chest. Small blessings, Eames thought. The move would have been painful had Arthur been conscious.

Andrew shook Arthur's head. "Too bad…he's out. That's alright, we'll wait to wake him up until you get back." A curt nod and Cavendish hurried up the stairs. Andrew settled himself in another chair and started polishing his gun. After a minute, Eames could take the silence no more.

"What do you want with us?"

Andrew glanced up, but continued his work with methodical strokes. "Ah, my dear Eames…you wish to know the reason for my visit. Surely you can't have deceived yourselves into thinking I was just going to let that day fade away into the past, that it all was just a…misunderstanding."

"What happened wasn't our fault!"

"No? It wasn't your fault that I was thrown in prison, leaving no one to watch Sophie?" He stopped his polishing and got up to pace the room. "Her mind was damaged…those years she had spent in foster care…the things they did to her…." His voice shook and he turned to Eames, glaring at him with undisguised hate. "I thought you of all people would understand. Instead, you and your friends stabbed me in the back!" His hand tightened on the gun. "There was no one to protect her anymore. Can you imagine hiding in a dark room all day, watching the door, afraid the men of your nightmares were going to come in and…" His voiced hardened. "Two months in I get a notice saying my sister shot herself in the head. I didn't even get to go to the funeral." He leaned down and pressed the gun to Eames' temple. "And you say it wasn't your fault. She never would have done it if I had been there!" He suddenly screamed, little flecks of spittle spraying Eames' face.

Guilt washed over Eames. He had never forgiven himself for what happened to Sophie. He well knew the pain of losing someone...but he couldn't think about that right now. The past was the past and right now, he and Arthur were in the hands of a sadist. Still, perhaps there was an off-chance that Andrew could reasoned with…

"Look, I'm sorry for what happened to Sophie," he began, trying not to flinch at the touch of the cool steel still pressed against his temple. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You can do whatever you want with me, just let Arthur go. He hardly had anything to do with that job. It's not right for him to suffer your revenge."

Andrew laughed. "Well look who's all so self-sacrificing now! I think I'll take you up on your offer. But I won't be letting Arthur go. See, you're wrong about this being only about revenge. I'm doing a job right now. Fortunately, my boss, shall we say, doesn't care what methods I use as long as I get the results."

Eames swallowed. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, my dear Eames, I am essentially being paid to extract my revenge." He grinned wickedly as Cavendish returned. "Ah, now the fun can begin." He took a small duffel from Cavendish and handed him the gun in return. "How shall we start?" He pulled a long thin knife from the bag. "Perfect." He looked back at Eames with a cruel gleam in his eye.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Next chapter will have TONS of h/c! And we've been dying to get to the next chapter so it should be posted a LOT sooner than this one. Please review! :)