Hey all!

Sorry for the delay, I've been traveling back to where I go to school. It's been a little stressful, so I've been lacking inspiration. But no worries, I'm trying my best, and here's chapter 4 (finally)!

Don't forget to send a review or so, and tell me what you think! A million thank you's to all who reviewed in the past!

I still don't own Inception...

The plane travel was actually the best I'd experienced in awhile, completely because of the petrified looks flight attendants gave us. My attitude continued to amuse Arthur, which didn't cease to confuse me. His random light-heartedness was sufficiently bizarre and unexpected, though I had no admit, not unwelcome. I liked it, it was like I was watching him transform into another Arthur, who he seemed to want to bury away. It apparently didn't always work.

"Why doesn't your brother like Erastus?" Arthur questioned at one point.

"Why? Did you?" I smirked.

"I don't know. Dom just seems to have a genuine hatred for him. I don't see why," he gave a half shrug as he said it.

"Honestly, its because Erastus has no tact. He honestly doesn't give a damn about anything that happens around him. If you spent more then a few hours with him, you'd see why. He also isn't very subtle, which you saw. He barely acknowledged you were there, not because of a specific reason, only because he felt no desire or need to act friendly,"

"That's not exactly hate triggering," Arthur insisted.

"He's also extremely paranoid. He may have seemed to not notice you, but by now, he's done his best to figure out everything about you. Actually, I forgot to warn you, sorry, don't be surprised if your house has been searched,"

"What?" Arthur's face contorted as he shouted, causing several people to look around in alarm.

"Ah. That's why I had decided not to tell you. Right," I nodded as I made the out loud mental note, looking out the plane window to hide my smirk.

"Searched my house...what in the hell would trigger him to do that?" Arthur seethed, obviously trying to talk quieter, but ultimately failing as the rich snobs that sat in first class with us frowned at his language.

"Calm down," I hissed, trying not to laugh. Truthfully, I wanted to see what would happen if he kept swearing, but decided against triggering him to do so. He looked at me expectantly. "Are you calm?" I asked evenly. His eyes narrowed into a glare. "You're not calm. Okay," I shrugged, rolling away from him in the large seat. Silence fell, and I did nothing except listen to his breathing, which sounded stressed.

"Rika," he finally prompted me, but he spoke quietly and finally sounded like he had a shred of tranquility. I was going to turn back to him, but the nickname caught me off guard. Nobody called me Rika, except for the people who were closest to me, and knew me well enough to feel comfortable using it. Those people consisted of Dom and Erastus. Snow was surprisingly still getting to that point. Though at that moment, hearing Arthur use the nickname, I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. It sounded right.

Which was seriously screwed up.

Damn it all.

After about three seconds, the time it took to recompose my face, I rolled back over to look up at him. "Artie," I countered, just to be obnoxious. He grimaced.

"Eames calls me that because he knows I hate it," he muttered. He wasn't accusing. It was just a statement.

"I know. Are you calm?" I questioned again, not that I needed to. He didn't reply. "Okay. Well, there's probably a lot of reasons Erastus searched your house. First, try not and take it personally. It's just the way he does things. Second, and I'm assuming here, your identity is probably pretty well guarded electronically, so he wouldn't have found much in that search. Which would make him more suspicious. Third, he probably thought you were sketchy anyway. Erastus thinks people who own expensive suits mean trouble, and he's nearly always right. Finally," I hesitated for a brief moment, this reason was just a little to paranoid my own point of view. "I'm probably a huge part of the reason. You're with me, and Erastus is painfully aware of how many people honestly want me dead. So, he is compelled to make sure you're not one of them. Erastus is kind of protective," I trailed off as I spoke, my final words coming out as a sort of mumble.

"No shit," Arthur agreed. The eye of elderly guy sitting in the seat in front of him peered at us through the crack between the seats, staring at us with a glare. Swearing apparently means you're dammed.

Don't you hate it when you realize that to late? I know I do.

I waved cheerily at the eye. The man that it belonged to grunted and turned back around. I started to laugh, stifling the sound with my fist. Arthur watched me, a strange expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, still smirking.

"Something changed. You're getting emotion back," he stated. I blinked at him before shaking my head.

"It's probably because of Antarctica. It's the closest thing I have to home. No worries, you'll get the pissed off me back soon," I assured him quietly.

"I don't want the pissed off you back," he said unashamedly, which I found to be a strange burst of honesty, though I gave a small grin anyway.

"I'm sleepy," I said after a moment of having no idea what to say. "You do know, that if you add up all the time change and flight time and stuff, the day lasted for about 38 hours?" I had no idea if this statement was true or not, and my tone said as such quite plainly. Arthur knew it too, and he rolled his eyes.

"You don't sleep anyway," he reminded me. I gave him a thumbs up before rolling back over away from him, covering myself with the huge sweatshirt I had taken off once we had gotten back to Brazil. I really did hate sleeping on planes, but somehow, I managed, falling into a self-generated dreamless sleep.

~o~

I wasn't sure what triggered me to wake up, but I did so with a violent jerk, sitting blot upright in the seat that I had slumped down in. I realized how sleep mussed my hair was, as it plopped itself over my eyes. I pushed it away, probably making it even worse.

"Morning," Arthur greeted from next to me. I looked over, which only resulted in my hair falling forward again. I didn't bother to try controlling it. I found him still sitting there, and he was currently inspecting a cup of coffee, rather then drinking it. "Sleep well?"

"No," I grunted truthfully, falling back into the seat. My eyes burned and felt heavy, and my perception of my surroundings was way off. I was completely disoriented, which seemed to always happen when I slept on planes. "Oh hell," I grumbled as the disorientation sunk in further, bringing a headache with it. I shut my eyes, attempting to stop my surroundings from spinning. "If you're looking for poison, I doubt there is any," I informed him after a moment, referring to the coffee he continued to watch.

"Is that your way of telling me you want it?" he asked. I shut my eyes even tighter.

"That statement was way to complicated for my brain to comprehend," I moaned. He answered by taking my hand and putting the cup into it.

"Drink. You'll feel better. And take this," he gave me another cylinder shaped object. I opened my eyes to find myself holding a bottle of Advil.

"Lifesaver," I praised, cracking the bottle open and taking three.

"Me or the Advil?" Arthur chuckled.

"I have to pick one?" I wondered, taking all three at once and sipping at the coffee gratefully. The headache subsided after a few more minutes, though I was still somewhat loopy. And the coffee refused to give me a sufficient blast of caffeine. "How much longer? Where are we? What time is is?" I asked, unable to pick a question that made the most sense.

"We're closer to Guinea or Mali then anything. Near the coast of Africa. We've got around nine hours left," he relayed.

"That was oddly specific," I stated, rubbing my hands over my face after setting the coffee back on the little table.

"This thing says so," he said, tapping the screen that was on the back of every seat. His was currently set to scroll through maps of the flight. I mumbled without meaning in reply, letting my head fall back on the seat.

"That's boring. You do know you can watch movies on that and stuff, and you pick the maps," I ridiculed him after a minute, the thought occurring to me suddenly. He didn't say anything to that, only giving me a small shrug.

"Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you look like hell," Arthur smirked at me as he said it.

"Thanks. I feel like hell," I grumbled, refusing to try and relax into the seat, mostly because I wouldn't be able to, but I'd fall asleep anyway, which would be a horrid kind of uncomfortable. I leaned as far forward as I could instead, my forehead touching my legs at some point.

"Go back to sleep. You'll feel better,"

"Yea, while I'm asleep. Then I'll wake up and everything will be worse," I claimed, slightly muffled from my curled pose.

"Sleep until we get there. Getting off the plane will help," Arthur persisted.

"I won't stay asleep," I said glumly. I knew he was right, it would help. But never had there been a time that I had managed to sleep until landing.

"Trust me," Arthur insisted, lightly taking my shoulders and pulling me back in the seat.

"Fine. But if I get worse because I followed your instructions, I'm blaming you forever," I threatened half-heartedly.

"I'll remember that," he agreed. "Just sleep,"

I sighed in surrender, almost thankful that I was going to follow his dictation, and also thinking that it was a very bad idea. I pulled my legs up onto the seat, not fully turning away from him this time, just curling up into the seat as best I could. Minutes later, the blank dreamscape returned.

~o~

Arthur couldn't help but give a slight smile as Airika's face relaxed again, though there was still a restless look to her. He reached forward, lightly brushing the hair that was the brown color of powdered cocoa out of her face. It almost had the texture of that cocoa powder too, weightless and a slippery kind of smooth as it fell through his fingers.

Confusion poked at Arthur as he watched Airika. Confusion at what he was feeling. She was a mystery to him, and he lived for solving mysteries. It was his job. And yet, he also knew that he couldn't let himself get past a professional viewpoint of things. Most importantly, it was dangerous, for Airika, for the team, for the job, for his own grasp of reality. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the fine line already. The fine life between professional and...something else. He had no idea what, mostly from lack of anything else to compare it to. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that moment, and in this moment, he convinced himself that the best thing to do was move the arm rest between himself and Airika, a point of reason that he acted on.

Airika readjusted in her sleep as he shoved the armrest away, and without the minimal support it had provided, she ended up falling against his shoulder instead. Arthur realized with a slight jolt that he didn't mind in the slightest. Instead, he touched her hair once, pulling the heavy sweatshirt over her more securely. He left her alone then, not wanting to accidentally wake her up. He resorted to watching the maps scroll through, over and over, not really taking in what they were saying. All he managed to think about was Airika, which perturbed him, but also refused to let the small smile fall from his face.

~o~

I managed to wake up on the hour without fail after I fell asleep again. I would only stay awake for a minute or so, but it was still maddening to have to wake up. The first time, I found myself lying on Arthur's shoulder. When I questioned him about it, he assured me that he didn't mind, and that I had apparently seemed more comfortable that way. I fell asleep again. Three hours later, he actually forced me to do something when I woke.

"You need to eat," he stated firmly. "You've barely eaten this whole trip,"

"Not hungry," I mumbled, turning my face to hide it in his shoulder instead. I was to disoriented to realize how awkward this would make me feel normally.

"I don't care," he insisted. "You need to eat. I got the most basic thing I could think of," he added, his voice almost taking on a anxious tone. He forced a plain bagel into my hand. I looked over at it for a minute or two before sitting up.

"Fine," I grumbled, tearing the bagel in half and beginning to nibble on the smaller half. I knew he was rolling his eyes, but I didn't care. I ate the bagel without much thought, chewing robotically. The food ultimately made me feel ill, which I had the urge to voice to Arthur. I didn't though, mostly because it had occurred to him to think of and try to do something about my eating habits. I mentally gave him an A for effort. After managing to choke down three quarters of the bagel, I set the last bit down disgustedly. "Satisfied?" I asked, looking at him with a slightly pouting expression that I didn't mean to give him, but ended up doing so anyway.

"No," Arthur gave me the smallest of smiles. "I guess that's the best I'm going to get though,"

"Yup. Deal with it," I replied, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"Go back to sleep," he dismissed, pointedly looking away from me. It was a action that I knew he only did to hide the mirth in his eyes.

"You wound me Arthur. You really do," I dramatized.

"I know," he shrugged my statement off. I gave a single laugh before leaning on his shoulder again. I did so mostly for the pesky and obnoxious factor it provided, but also because it was much more comfortable then trying to get a better position in my seat. Not that I would voice that to him. I slept again at some point, and continued to wake up five more times as the hours passed. The last time I woke up, Arthur informed me smugly that there was fifteen minutes left in the flight. I had replied by throwing the sweatshirt at him.

~o~

"What do you dream about?" Arthur asked after we had gotten the locks taken off the cases and had been escorted from the airport and sent off in a cab. We had made the smart choice not to tell the cabbie what was in our large cases.

"What do you mean?" I looked at him with genuine curiosity.

"I take it you've seen a lot of horrifying occurrences," he began. I nodded once. "So how do you keep from dreaming about them?"

"How do you know I don't dream about them?" I asked quietly, looking at my lap.

"You're to peaceful when you're asleep to be reliving a nightmare," he stated adamantly. I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged.

"I'm an overrider. I can control my dreams," I said, though I was pretty sure he was already aware of that.

"So what do you dream about? Do you dream at all?" he repeated.

"I dream in lights. It's the most peaceful thing I could come up with without the chance of something changing into a nightmare. It's like a black background, and colored lights come in and out. I guess the color changes depending on what I feel, but that's the only variation. They're relaxing," I trailed off, realizing that I had never told anyone that. Maybe it was because nobody ever thought to ask. Arthur was smiling slightly, and he nodded in assimilation. As we fell silent again, the cabbie succeeded in getting our attention.

"Where are you guys going again?" he asked in a gravelly voice, suited to a cab driver. Arthur nudged me pointedly, which I took as a prompt to tell the guy where I was going. I did.

"Tell me how much of a disaster your house is tomorrow," I requested of Arthur once the cabbie was re-informed of my destination. Arthur grimaced, which only made me smirk.

"Okay," he agreed grudgingly. The cab pulled to a stop under a lit streetlamp, and we were surrounded by abandoned buildings and darkness, nothing else providing light besides the flickering luminosity above us. "I had no idea what I was expecting, but this wasn't it," Arthur said with a raised eyebrow. I snorted.

"Don't worry, I don't live anywhere near here. I've just learned never to go straight home," I pointed around him to an empty parking lot, where a lone motorcycle sat.

"Fair enough," Arthur smirked. "See you tomorrow,"

"Don't lose those, for the sake of my sanity," I pleaded, tapping the separator between the backseat and the trunk, referring to the cases of guns.

"Don't lose sleep over it," Arthur assured me, knowing better then to joke about it. I nodded, and slid out of the cab, dragging my duffle after me. I stood under the streetlamp until the cab was out of sight before moving to the motorcycle. First, I passed the bike, moving to a crumbling wall. Pushing aside debris, I retrieved the connector that actually made the bike run, securing it to the engine.

I was all ready to get on the bike and get out of this slightly creepy parking lot, but something made me stop. I stood almost completely still, laying my bag slowly over the seat of the bike so I could let go of it. Scanning my surroundings, I searched for anything that would make me stop. I saw nothing, but heard quiet movement. I waited it out, knowing better then to yell like an idiot about knowing someone was there. People who did that in moves nearly always died.

Finally, I saw the shape that had originally made me stop. It was a shadow, not taking a completely recognizable form, though I assumed it was a person. Following the shadow, I finally discerned the silhouette of a man. I saw none of his facial features, it was only the way he stood and the shape of his body that told me the gender. He stood there, not moving, and I knew he was watching me. Slowly, I moved to grasp the Beretta 93R that I had on me. The gun had been a present from Erastus. Sure, they're not made anymore, but they still exist. I pulled it out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Faced with the dilemma of the noise the safety lock would make, I didn't even get the chance to ponder it before a shot rang through the air, coming from a gun that wasn't mine. For that split second, I looked up at the silhouette, seeing that it had moved, and was now holding the gun that he had just fired.

At me.

~o~

Not knowing exactly what made him do it, Arthur instructed the cabbie to pull out of sight of the parking lot, though still close enough to see. The cabbie obeyed, probably only because he was getting paid for this. Arthur was more then aware of how much the cabbie was convinced Arthur was one of the mentally insane.

Arthur, refusing to care, watched Airika as she fished for something in the side of a building. As he realized that she had hid a piece of her motorcycle, he had to smirk. He relaxed slightly as she secured her duffle over her shoulder and nearly got on the bike. But she stopped at the last minute. Slowly, her bag dropped next to her, and she moved to get the gun he knew she was hiding. Arthur saw her pull the gun out and just hold onto it.

Arthur found himself holding his breath, and his mind raced at what to do. Before he got the chance to act on one of his many ideas, a deafening shot was heard through the air, coming from a figure he couldn't see. At the same moment, the driver door of the cab was yanked open and another shot was fired. Arthur felt the blood of the cabbie hit his face and watched it splatter against the opposite window. Not even a second passed before Arthur himself was looking down the barrel of a gun. The man who held it was mostly hidden in shadow, but he had a wicked grin on his face.

Reaching quickly for his own Glock, Arthur got the gun pressed into his forehead, leaving the intention clear. The unrecognizable man now crouched over the dead cabbie shook his head, making the universal gesture for Arthur to be quiet and still. Arthur didn't dare move, though his mind was about sixty yards from the gun pressed to his head. Only sixty short yards, where Airika had just been shot.

Oh how I love cliffhangers...

Until next time!

Mio