Chapter 7

Ana tipped the cab driver and clutched her notebook and pocketbook as she watched him drive away. Her hands ached and itched but she curled her fingers in tightly, needing something familiar to hold on to.

When the black cab was gone, she turned around to face the school.

Lycée International of St Germain-en-Laye.

It was an imposing sight; all red bricks and black wrought metal, surrounded by tall, sturdy trees that were already beginning to lose their golden-red leaves. For a moment, Ana stood frozen, unable to move. Fear and indecision suddenly took over her and she stared at the front entrance in a daze.

This is what I wanted to do.

Seeing the address in her notebook, in her handwriting, had propelled her forward but she was beginning to feel doubt chip away at her resolve.

Maybe I should have brought Ariadne…

But Ana knew the other woman would not have gone with her. It had been surprisingly easy to slip away. She knew from Miron's reaction the day before that he felt badly about her situation and he would be fairly easy to manipulate. All she'd needed to do was get her bandages damp and walk out to ask him to get her new ones. A quick study of the bathroom showed that Ariadne hadn't replenished their medical supplies so it was an innocuous enough request. Miron hurried out the door on the errand and Ariadne had gone on sketching in her chair.

Ana waited a minute and then two before acting as if she'd forgotten to ask Miron for something else. She left her bag behind on the table and her coat on the couch – visible signs of her return, hiding her notebook and her pocketbook in front of her as she hurried out the door presumably after Miron.

Ariadne had been flustered, scrambling to her feet–

"Ana, you shouldn't… I can get him, he's probably–"

"No, no," Ana said, smiling apologetically as she hurried towards the door. "I'm sure I can catch him. Do you want anything while he's out? Magazines? Books? If we have to stay here all day, we may as well enjoy it, right?"

–but she hadn't gone after her. Instead, Ariadne sat down again and smiled, shaking her head.

Ana had guessed correctly after all; Ariadne was indignant at having to play babysitter and she was offended on Ana's behalf at being treated like an invalid. Her youthful appearance would have likely caused her to be sensitive to age dynamics and it had been clear that she didn't want to treat Ana the same way Arthur and Eames did.

After leaving the room and making sure Miron was out of sight, it had only taken a few minutes to hail a cab and throw herself into it like a mad escapee.

"And now here I am," Ana muttered. She curled into herself a little and closed her eyes briefly.

I need to move, she thought. If I stop and think too long, if I let myself be afraid, Arthur and Eames will catch up with me.

She thought about the texts from her phone and stood up straight.

And who knows who they really are? I may have known Arthur since childhood but that doesn't mean he's safe.

Even if I feel as if I should trust him, it doesn't mean I should.

(Something bad happened to me.)

A sudden breeze whipped around her and she shivered violently, missing the thick coat Eames had given her. The sun was high in the blue sky but there was a definite chill in the air. Ana looked back at the road behind her and then towards the entrance again. Even if she wanted to go back to the hotel, she didn't have a phone. She would have to go into the school and ask for help.

Or she could go into the school, retrace her steps and reclaim her life.

There was nowhere else for her to go but forward.

###

"Madame Keller, back so soon?"

Ana looked up sharply, holding her belongings against her chest like a shield. She forced herself to smile at the woman walking towards her and nodded.

"I guess I can't stay away," Ana said faintly. She looked around to gather her thoughts.

After a short walk up a gravel path, Ana had found the entrance doors wide open. She had stepped into a large, empty foyer surrounded by glass cases that were filled with trophies and plaques. It was stately and elegant and Ana felt out of place amongst the group photos of children and various national flags on the walls.

Though she couldn't see the office from where the woman must have emerged, she did notice the discreet black cameras set in the high corners.

They must have seen me coming.

The thought that she was being watched did nothing for her nerves.

The woman stopped and smiled up at Ana. She was only a little older, perhaps in her late 40's, and dressed in dark, crisp jeans and a cashmere sweater. A pearl necklace adorned her neck and Ana glanced down at her hands before looking back up at the woman's eyes.

She had a sophisticated air about her, as if she were dressing down the best way she knew how. But there was also an almost fond look in her eyes as she studied Ana that made her feel as if she were a curiosity being studied. The use of the last name made Ana realize that she had lied to the woman the day before and she wondered what other bits of information she had passed along.

Best not to say too much.

"Forgive me," the woman said, after a brief silence. She clasped her hands together. "You just… You seem so much more relaxed today than you were yesterday – what a lovely smile. I guess seeing Peter has done you some good, no? You were here for quite a bit."

There was a faint lilt to her words and Ana suspected that English wasn't her first language… Or even her second. It made sense, of course, it was an international school.

Peter?

Ana decided that she'd let the woman talk. It seemed she was a bit of a chatterer and that could only work in her favor. And Ana had clearly made an impression on her.

"It has been a while," Ana said and the woman nodded.

"Yes, he told me after you left. Old friends the both of you were. Worked in the states together, didn't you?" the woman said. Ana gave a half shrug, not wanting to say yes or no, and the woman beamed. She reached out and took hold of Ana's upper arm. "Well, we're glad he decided to give up the service to work here. He's wonderful at languages and the older dears love having a psychology elective now. And who wouldn't adore such a young teacher? He truly understands the students."

Ana forced herself not to start in surprise and she allowed the woman to pull her down a darkened hallway of closed doors. Their footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floors and she could hear the faint sounds of children behind the doors.

Peter, who teaches languages and psychology.

And I used to work with him. I saw him yesterday.

Not for the first time did Ana wonder just who the hell she was.

"This is his quiet period so you came just in time," the woman said, stopping at a closed door with a frosted window. Before Ana could say anything, she opened the door after a staccato of knocks and called into the room cheerfully, "Monsieur Avery, Madame Keller has returned!"

Ana heard a shuffle and then a startled gasp from within the room and the woman turned to her and winked. She gestured for Ana to walk in but Ana hesitated.

"Perhaps I should come back later," Ana said, falteringly. "If he's busy, I mean…"

"Nonsense!" the woman said. She pushed the door open wider and looked at the person within. "Peter, now don't just stand there gaping. Come greet your friend."

Ana heard shuffling once again and she realized that whoever Peter was, he was probably using a cane. She hurried to the door, feeling slightly guilty and blinked when she saw the man in the office.

The woman patted her arm and then gently pushed her inside.

"Go ahead and catch up for as long as you need. Peter doesn't have class until later this afternoon," she said. Ana glanced back and realized that she was closing the door behind her. "Maybe he could show you around the campus this time. His office is far too stuffy to be comfortable after all, and it is such a lovely day."

She gave Ana one more pat on the arm before pulling the door closed. Ana heard her hum to herself as she walked away.

"Again, I'm sorry about that," Peter said. He was American but there was a hint of an accent to his words – Southern, perhaps. Ana turned back to him slowly as he spoke. "Jeannine can be a bit much."

"Her husband died recently," Ana said. She took in the details of him and then looked around his office quickly. There was a chalkboard on one wall and beneath it, a small crystal bowl of wrapped chocolates. Pieces of broken chalk lay haphazardly next to the bowl. "She's lonely. And she thinks you are too."

Peter exhaled softly. He turned his back on her and moved slowly to his seat behind a big cherry wood desk, covered in scattered papers and a large day calendar, and sighed heavily as he sat down, still holding on to his black cane.

"Well," he replied, "She does have radar for the broken ones. I suppose it's why she latched onto you so quickly."

Ana stared at him.

###

"You didn't think to go with her?" Arthur asked, incredulous. He rubbed his forehead as he watched Ariadne's face turn red.

"She's a grown woman, Arthur," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not keeping her on a leash just because you and Eames are paranoid."

"Well, clearly we were right to be paranoid," he said. He began to pace in the suite as Yusuf spoke to Miron a few feet away. They had gotten back to the hotel ten minutes earlier and Arthur made Ariadne tell her tale of Ana's escape twice. He was annoyed, to say the least, but most of all he was worried. "She's out there by herself, Ariadne, in a city she doesn't know."

"Well, it's your paranoia that probably made her want to get out. You can't keep her prisoner here."

"We weren't–"

"Yes, you were, Arthur," Ariadne said. Her fear from earlier was gone and now she was just defensive. "And maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to get out of here if you had just told her more about herself instead of just throwing her in a room and telling her to sit and stay like a dog."

Arthur let out a loud breath and looked around the room. He saw Ana's bag and coat from that morning and stomped towards it, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves as he moved.

He was done arguing with Ariadne, mostly because he knew it was futile. Ariadne was right in a sense; they had inadvertently treated Ana like a child when the truth was that Ana was smarter and skilled in ways that could have made her a threat.

She must have been that upset if she would risk leaving the only familiar place, Arthur thought.

Ana wasn't a risk-taker. She may have been impulsive at times but her overriding nature was to be methodical and careful. If she left her sanctuary, she had a plan. And Ana was the most dangerous when she had a plan.

"I called Eames," Ariadne said, when Arthur started to dig through the bag Ana left behind. "He didn't respond so I left a few messages and texts."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He said he was going to tie up loose ends," Ariadne shrugged. She sat down in the seat next to where he stood. "I'm sorry. I know you care about her. I didn't mean to imply you didn't."

Arthur's hands didn't shake as he pulled out a small book. "You're her friend," he said steadily. "You were only trying to defend Ana. And you're right – she doesn't like being restrained. I should have known better."

Ariadne didn't respond and Arthur chalked it up to silent agreement. He flipped through the book in his hands, frowning at the highlighted text. He was familiar with the stories and it didn't help to settle his fears.

Each story was a small snapshot of lives warped by time, of the blurred line between dreams and reality. Not Ana's normal fare; she usually tended towards non-fiction, biographies and historical analysis. Even as a child, she had discarded fairy tales, instead reaching for their school textbooks.

Matt was more into fiction.

Arthur was suddenly sure that this was Ana's brother's book and he closed it, feeling ill. He put the book on the table and pulled out her phone. He knew it was passcode locked; the Bureau provided their agents with specialized devices so that people like him couldn't gain access to information he shouldn't have.

He studied the phone, holding it up to eye level and was confident that he could unlock it. His laptop was still cycling through the program he finished last night but it would be done soon. All he needed to do was find a cord and he could borrow Eames' and…

One text had been left opened on the screen and he stared at the words until they began to blur.

don't leave paris

Arthur felt his throat constrict. The sender was…

Fuck. Gideon tracked her down.

"Arthur?" Ariadne said. "What's wrong? That's her phone isn't it?"

"Yeah," Arthur said. He glanced up at Ariadne and then back at Yusuf and Miron. "Which alias did you book this suite under?"

Ariadne blinked. "The Larksher one. Eames forged it for me right before the job so it's untraceable."

"Good. That's… Good," Arthur said. He gripped the phone tightly, his mind racing through next steps. "Try Eames again, this time on his direct, not the burner. We need to get a hold of him and we can't afford to wait until he gets back."

"What–"

"I'm going to go downstairs and talk to the doorman," Arthur went on. "He might have an idea of where she went. We need to find her and soon."

"Okay, but–"

"Please, just call Eames." Arthur threw Ana's phone back in her bag and began to head towards the door, ignoring Ariadne's unspoken question. There had been no wallet, no notebook in her bag but Arthur knew that Ana would have had those simple necessities while traveling. That meant she likely had money, which complicated their situation even more.

And now that Gideon was on his way…

He'll arrive tonight so we need to get out of here, go underground until we can figure out what to do next.

His hand was on the knob when he heard Ariadne's phone go off. He paused and turned around as she answered it and he took a step back when she held up her hand in a signal to stop.

"Eames!" Ariadne said into the phone. She looked at Arthur as she spoke, walking towards him with wide eyes. "Where have you been? I've been trying to… Yeah, he's here. You need to get back to the hotel because… Okay, okay, I will."

He took her phone when she held it out to him.

"I got Ariadne's messages. Do you have any bloody idea where Ana could have gone?" Eames' voice was angry and Arthur could hear the buzz of a crowd behind him.

"I'm going to check downstairs now, see if the doorman saw her," Arthur said. Miron was waving his hands in the air excitedly and Yusuf was nodding. He hoped that they were onto something good. "Where are you?"

"I checked in with some of my contacts from the states," Eames said. "They heard that Ana's got a tail."

"Gideon's on his way. I found her phone. He's been texting her."

Eames swore and Arthur heard him breathing heavily. It was likely that he was walking quickly. "That's not all. There's a retired agent here – goes by the name Peter Avery. He's apparently a teacher now."

"I know of him," Arthur said. "He was her partner before Gideon. He was hurt a few years back but I didn't know he moved here. I stopped keeping tabs on him after he retired."

"Right then. Too much of a coincidence, don't you think? Ana disappears for hours yesterday and her old partner just happens to work at a school only a few miles away. What else do you know about him?"

Arthur frowned. "Good agent. Ana liked him. He got hurt on a job while she was with me. I think she felt guilty about not being there for him. Smart guy. He has advanced degrees in psychology. In fact, some of his research before the Bureau was on…"

Arthur sucked in a cold breath as the realization hit.

"What?"

"Avery's grad research focused on memories and dreams. Some of his work was used for later stages of the dreamshare project. He even worked with Reed Janus while he was at the Bureau."

"The therapist?"

Arthur closed his eyes.

"The memory specialist."

###

"Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have a few cookies here… Somewhere." Peter looked around his desk with a faint frown and Ana shook her head.

"No, thank you."

He looked up and smiled slightly, gesturing at a chair near the window. "Well, at least have a seat, Ana."

Ana nodded and sat down, closing her notebook and hiding it behind her wallet. She studied him closely.

She was surprised at how young he seemed, though she didn't have much in the way of expectations. He had short dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and his mouth seemed permanently set in a half-smile. There was a vaguely rumpled air about him. His tweed blazer was wrinkled and his shirt was worn and old.

Unlike Eames and Arthur though, he seemed to genuinely not care about his appearance. She could detect no artifice in his demeanor; instead there was a confidence about him, a quiet steady poise that she was drawn to.

No wonder he's a teacher, Ana thought.

He shifted a little in his seat and she determined from the calluses on his hand and the way he moved that his right hip had been injured, perhaps two or three years before. He was tall and sturdy, if a little on the thin side, but his shoulders and chest were broad. He was likely still physically active, despite his injury.

He was a big reader: his moderately-sized office was packed with books and she saw old and new texts on shelves and tables and even the floor. There were pictures in frames and Ana tried her best not to react as she saw herself in a few of them.

Even though she wanted to pepper him with questions, to demand answers from him, she forced herself to remain quiet. Despite his unassuming manner, Ana didn't trust him yet.

She had to tread very, very carefully.

Ana recalled Jeannine's words–

…you seem so much more relaxed today than you were yesterday…

–and noted the faint wariness underneath the warmth of Peter's gaze. She sat up and tilted her head slightly, seeing the wariness grow.

"I'm surprised you came back," Peter said. He bit his bottom lip a little and then smiled again. "I mean, after yesterday and all."

"You called Gideon."

Peter blinked and then nodded, momentarily thrown. "I thought he should know. He's been worried about you, you know. We all have."

"He said he's on his way here."

Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I can't say I'm surprised. You know how Gideon is. I didn't tell him about Arthur though but I think he figured out that you were with him anyway. Quite frankly, I think you should just go home."

"Back to Washington, you mean," Ana said, narrowing her eyes.

"That's still home, isn't it?" Peter said. He looked sad. "Just because Matt is… Isn't there anymore, doesn't mean it's not home."

"Is that why you called Gideon?" Ana asked. "To have him bring me back?"

"We both know that Gideon can't make you do anything you don't want to," Peter said. "But I was hoping he'd talk to you. Just calm you down a little. He's your partner so maybe you'd listen to him... I don't know. You were so upset yesterday…"

He ran his fingers through his hair and Ana was surprised to see his hand shake a little.

"I'm glad it didn't work," Peter said suddenly. "I'm glad you're here again. Maybe now you can work on moving on. I get why you wanted what you did, I can't even begin to understand or even know what you're going through but I think, if I could, I would have done the same."

"Oh?"

"But it was a bad idea to begin with. You know that now, don't you?" Peter said earnestly. "Pushing aside the fact that it couldn't work… Ever since Matt died, it's like you just shut down. You went back to work too soon, too fast. You never really healed, physically or emotionally. You didn't want to. You just walked around like an open wound, angry and in pain."

He leaned his elbows on the table, staring at her face. "So I get it. You wanted to forget everything but that didn't work, did it? I hope this is the first step in you getting better because watching you get caught up in this revenge fantasy…"

"Revenge?" Ana repeated, unable to hide her surprise. The conversation was getting away from her but the implications were there, a series of dots waiting to be connected. Ana was almost afraid of the picture that was slowly emerging. "That's a harsh word for it, isn't it?"

"You were ready to cut your nose to spite your face," Peter retorted sharply. His amiable demeanor fell away and there was a sliver of anger in his eyes. "Come on now, it wasn't just about forgetting and making the pain go away. You wanted to hurt the people responsible for your brother's death by hurting yourself. Why else would you be working with those men again?"

It took all the concentration she had to will her face not to react.

Oh my God.

That's what they're both hiding from me.

What did they do to my brother?

Peter went on. "The way Gideon tells it, Arthur and that other one, the Brit, they were bad news all along. I've been thinking about it all since yesterday. Ana, being with them again isn't healthy. It isn't safe. I may not be as good a profiler as you are but it's obvious you hate being around them now. And why wouldn't you?"

A profiler.

An extractor.

What have I gotten myself into?

Ana mentally reeled from the revelations Peter casually dropped but she knew she didn't have time to catch her breath or regroup. Peter would realize that Ana had no idea what was going on and she would be damned if she didn't take as much information from him as she could.

Arthur was right. I did something to myself yesterday… Something that made me forget my entire life.

And it was all for revenge.

"You really think I could have hurt them?" Ana asked. "Just by forgetting who they were or who I was? How could something like that that possibly affect them now?"

Peter huffed out a short laugh. "Gideon told me what happened at the hospital. You probably don't remember anything because you were unconscious for most of it. He almost arrested Arthur because he threatened the guards for not letting him in your room and the British guy–"

"Eames."

"Eames, then. He nearly tore the waiting room apart." Peter fell quiet for a moment. "Emotions were running high that night."

"It doesn't mean anything," Ana said. She curled her hands into tight fists. "It doesn't explain anything."

"You don't act like that if you don't care about someone," Peter said. His blue eyes studied her face intently. "They were willing to get into very deep trouble to help you. It was clear to Gideon, anyway. Those two men felt strongly about you but you wanted to hurt them. You don't get that angry unless you're betrayed, unless people hurt your family."

He lowered his eyes then and a strange expression flitted across his face. He frowned deeply, and clumsily got to his feet.

"Ana... Your hands. What happened to your hands?"

###

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