A/N: Apologies for the wait. Blame the holidays, work, etc.

Also, to answer reviewer's xForevermore unasked question: Arthur did tell Ana she could die in dreams but he never actually gave her a practical demonstration. I hope this makes sense! And yes, I agree… it was totally messed up, even if the decision was made with good intentions =)

As always, thanks for reading and please do let me know what you think!

Chapter 9:

They found her sitting on the steps of the school entrance with her hands in her lap, staring out into the distance. The wind whipped her loose hair to the side and scattered leaves around her feet. Still, she sat motionless as Arthur drove up the driveway.

As soon as they were parked, Eames darted out of the car. With an annoyed sigh, Arthur turned the engine off and scrambled after him, quickly scanning the area. He frowned to himself, catching the cameras hidden in the trees and the façade of the building, and ducked his head.

"Tsk-tsk, Ana. What have you been up to?" Eames said when they reached her. Though his tone was light, Arthur could tell that he was more angry now than worried. The cameras wouldn't have escaped his notice either.

Ana seemed to shake herself awake at the sound of Eames' voice. She looked up at him then at Arthur, her gaze slowly focusing. Now that he was closer, he saw that her eyes were slightly swollen and red. She wasn't crying, or at least she hadn't been recently, but it was clear she was upset.

"You took much longer than I thought you would," Ana said. There was an edge to her voice that Arthur noted with some alarm. "I thought I was going to have to call a taxi soon. Was it the doorman?"

Eames narrowed his eyes and reached down for her arm, clearly meaning to pull her up. "Never mind that right now. Come along, it's time to get back–"

Ana jerked away from him and got to her feet, taking a few steps to the side. Something in her face seemed to harden and she looked at Eames with a mixture of bewilderment, fear and–

What happened between her and Avery?

–and anger. She was angry. It was an expression Arthur had become familiar with. It was obvious she didn't want to go back with them; he saw how she shifted her weight on her feet and the way she angled her shoulders – she was ready to bolt if they said or did the wrong thing.

Feeling the weight of the cameras on them, Arthur knew that they couldn't simply force her back into the car with them, as tempting as it was.

Whatever Avery told Ana, it had changed the way she looked at them now.

"Don't." Ana nodded at one of the cameras. "They've already captured your faces. If you try anything…"

"We won't do anything you don't want to," Arthur said in a gentle voice. He dropped his shoulders and took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax and assume a non-threatening stance. Ana looked back and forth between him and Eames like a skittish animal, her eyes wary and watchful. "Listen. We were worried about you, that's all. I would have taken you here if you had asked but you just left–"

"I don't believe you," Ana snapped.

Arthur nodded and held up his hands slightly, palms up. He needed to calm her down, to get her to agree to get into the car with them again. The longer they remained in front of the school, the greater the risk of Avery coming out to find them. And Arthur knew what they must have looked like from the cameras – two men against one defenseless woman.

"I know you don't and I'm sorry for that," he said in a low, gentle voice. "I've asked you to trust me but you don't feel like I've done anything to earn that. You have to depend on us and that scares you because we're keeping things from you and you don't understand why. I get it, I really do."

He took a step forward and felt relieved when she didn't move away.

"So I promise that we'll give you a choice from now on. I won't leave you behind again and I will tell you what it is we're doing so you know, you'll know, that we're not doing anything that would hurt you."

An odd expression flitted across her face and the corners of her mouth tilted up. Yet Arthur knew it wasn't a smile. There was something too bitter, too calculating there to be genuine.

"No," Ana said. "I've done it your way for more than a day and I have nothing to show for it. I still don't know anything about my life. So now… So now you're going to start answering my questions. Now we're going to do some things my way."

Arthur blinked and then frowned.

"What do you mean, you still don't know," he asked. "What did you and Avery talk about?"

What did you come here for, Ana?

"I did something to myself," she said. "I don't know what… But I did this on purpose. Forgot myself on purpose. Because of something you did. Something the both of you did to my brother."

It's better to know how someone thinks rather than what they're thinking at any given moment.

Arthur felt the knot in his chest tighten as he began to understand.

"She is a very smart woman with deep resources."

"You still don't know, do you?" he said slowly. "Avery doesn't know that you lost your memory. Because if you had asked him up front..."

"He can't help me," Ana said. She suddenly looked uncertain; the anger that had been fueling her was gone and now Arthur saw only frustration and confusion in her eyes. "Something happened when I used the PASIV. It stands to reason that the only way to undo it is through the same means."

"So why lead us here?" Eames asked. He moved forward, his head tilted to the side. "Why bother if you weren't going to pump Avery for–"

Eames stiffened and Arthur knew the moment he grasped what Arthur already had.

"Oh, darling," Eames said with an odd, choked laugh. "You are dangerous in any form, aren't you? Bravo to you. I shouldn't have expected anything less."

Ana's mouth trembled slightly and she seemed to draw into herself a bit, as if Eames' comment had stung her. Arthur glared at Eames but the other man seemed fixated on Ana.

"I've had some time to think," she said, looking from Arthur to Eames and back again. "To really try and put things together. What little information I do have doesn't exactly paint the best picture of you. I don't know who either of you really are but Peter does and I actually believe that he cares about me, that he's my friend. He would tell me everything if I asked but he can't fix me. That much was clear within the first few minutes of meeting him."

She looked over her shoulder at the school.

"I left something with him," she said, turning back to them. "He'll find it if I don't take it back and when he does he'll know what happened to me and that I'm with you. Peter's smart. I have no doubt he'll do everything in his power to find me again. And he won't do it alone either."

Gideon.

"You have far too much confidence in Avery and Gideon," Eames said, his voice deceptively light. "What makes you think that we'd be at all concerned about them?"

Arthur shook his head, irritated at Eames. Eames was a risk-taker and he loved playing a bluff but now wasn't the time to call Ana out. Even Arthur had to admit, she'd backed them both into a tight corner. A part of him had to admire her strategy though. It was simple and brilliant and utterly ruthless.

Using her condition as leverage – it was the only thing she had.

With nothing but a handful of fake IDs and a suitcase of clothes, Ana still found a way to gain an upper hand.

She came here not for information but to secure Peter as a pawn.

"What made you think I was talking about Gideon?" Ana asked.

Arthur glanced at Eames with a sharp look. Eames clenched his jaw and Arthur could tell he was annoyed with himself. By saying Gideon's name, he confirmed Ana's gamble.

"So what do you want?" Arthur said, drawing her attention back to him. "You went to all this trouble, after all."

"I want to know everything," she said. "About my life, about who I am. I want to know where my home is and where I belong. I won't take back what I left with Peter until I know the truth."

"Ana," Arthur said with a sigh. "You know we should–"

"Done," Eames cut in suddenly. "It's time you knew; we've kept it from you long enough."

"Eames, what the hell?" Arthur whirled around to face him but the other man ignored his outburst and stepped forward, holding out his hand to Ana. "Don't do this, don't take this away from her–"

Don't twist her situation to your advantage, you selfish bastard.

She deserves better this time.

She deserves a second chance.

"But Ana, please," Eames continued on, as if Arthur hadn't come close to striking at him. "Come back to the hotel with us. This isn't the place to have this conversation."

Ana looked down at Eames' outstretched hand and with a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach, Arthur saw her features brighten with hope. When she raised her eyes to Arthur, she looked as if he had betrayed her, disappointed her with his refusal.

I only want to help you, he thought, I don't know how I can make you believe that.

"Okay," she said softly. She hesitantly reached out to Eames and nodded. "I'll go back with you."

"Good," Eames said, closing his fingers gently around hers. "Thank you, Ana. I promise you, I'll-"

"I want to know how my brother died," Ana said. Eames' eyes widened and Arthur tensed at her words.

"Because that's why I did this to myself. I want to know what role the both of you played in his death."

###

Yusuf put down Miron's notes and glanced at the four vials of the new formula that Miron had given him to examine. As far as he could tell, everything was as it should be. The boy hadn't been lying, that much was clear to Yusuf, and his brews were excellent. The lad was barely old enough to drink but he was a genius. Perhaps not yet as good with chemicals as Yusuf but he had time on his side – one day Miron would be the best.

Right now though, Yusuf had more to deal with than professional hierarchies.

"So you see, da?" Miron said worriedly. He was almost wringing his hands as he looked at Yusuf with his large eyes. "I double check my work, always. This should not have affected memory."

"Don't worry, Miron, you're in the clear," Yusuf said with a smile. He looked down at the equipment on the table and sighed, patting the pockets of his vest absentmindedly. "I doubt whatever it was you made could have wiped out an entire lifetime's worth of memories."

I told Arthur there was more to this than chemistry.

Miron shook his head and Yusuf wasn't surprised to see that his words hadn't calmed the boy down. According to Eames, Miron practically worshipped the ground Arthur and Ana walked on because Arthur assumed everyone was capable (until they proved they weren't) and Ana… Well, "was Ana," as Eames had said, as if that had explained it.

Miron had been mistreated by other teams in the past, taken in by his youthful demeanor and eagerness to please. A little respect and kindness had gone a long way to secure his loyalty. In Yusuf's opinion, only hacks treated their chemists poorly; the good ones knew that a bad mood or an unfortunate turn of words could make a chemist's hand 'accidentally' slip.

"Your batch was rather large," Yusuf asked, gesturing to the vials. "If it works as it's meant to, you should keep the rest. People would pay handsomely for it. Keep one for yourself though, so you can recreate it. Notes aren't always as precise as we hope they are."

Miron frowned and shook his head again. "I knew it was good," he said frankly, "but I made five vials."

Yusuf blinked and then realized what Miron meant.

Of course. Four unused vials and the one that Ana used.

Arthur told him she put herself under, which meant that it was likely Ana had inserted the vial into the PASIV herself. And if the gossip around Ana and Arthur was even in the slightest bit true, then he would have kept a respectful distance from her during the job.

Too bad Ariadne isn't here, Yusuf thought as he made his way across the room to the device but he knew she had to finish the job that they'd all come here for in the first place.

He would have liked to get her take on the situation. Yusuf preferred to stay in the comfort of his home. Since the Fischer job he'd only gone out to the field twice more. He was a chemist; at his age he fancied himself a gentleman scientist and not a bunson-burner-on-demand.

Besides, it was difficult to find a decent cat sitter in Mombasa.

But Yusuf did like to keep up on the current chatter among those of their profession. Dreamshare was small and word traveled fast, especially about noteworthy jobs or people.

Yusuf had never worked with Ana but he had heard about her even before the disaster that was the Lewis job had taken place.

She seemed to materialize into the underground world of dreaming by Arthur's side, which was news enough by itself. Arthur's reputation reached far and wide. He was, quite simply, the best point a team could have and had been in the business since the beginning. Some said that Arthur had helped start the art of mind-crime, while others said he was a test subject gone rogue. Yusuf had even heard that Arthur was the son of a major crime lord who had wanted to expand his empire.

In any case, Arthur's name was a passport into the more lucrative and complex jobs. The opposite was also true: once Arthur refused to work with someone they were blacklisted across the board, no questions asked. Sharing dreams involved a certain degree of trust, after all. They were all criminals, no doubt there, but the good ones knew not to fuck around with each others' subconscious and anyone who cut corners was usually not welcomed back. Competition was healthy; outright sabotage was deadly.

At first it seemed that Ana was simply Arthur's protégé, a mere student of his technique. Even Eames had assumed such, Yusuf remembered, from the first time he'd brought up the woman.

"Mm, gorgeous creature, really," Eames said, taking a swig from his bottle of beer. "Arthur's got taste, I'll give him that. But I tell you, he's trying to re-shape this one into another Cobb, minus the crazy, of course. Arthur's a creature of certain comforts."

"So she's good?" Yusuf had asked, absentmindedly petting his cat as he slowly stirred a solution in a glass beaker.

"Oh, she's better than good but he'll stomp out whatever creativity she has and turn her into a fusspot soon enough."

Yet Ana was no one's student. She had a style all her own and it became apparent that Arthur was more of a business partner than a mentor. Yusuf had heard that she could pull secrets in half the time most extractors needed.

Of course, that kind of introduction drew attention and not always the positive kind. All that talent and promise meant that other extractors, the mediocre ones anyway, were shut out. Arthur had done a good job hiding Ana–

But not good enough.

Yusuf had seen the fallout from the Lewis job. He'd seen how Eames had come back, so shocked and broken that he'd lain low for weeks after. Eames, he knew, had no little amount of affection for Ana. He could tell in the fond, wistful way the other man spoke about her. So many people thought Eames was a rogue con who left a trail of empty pockets and broken hearts behind him and the truth was he encouraged that perception. He slouched and leered, cracked jokes and flirted at inappropriate times but Yusuf knew better.

Over the years, Ana had become important to Eames, so much so that he'd spent an insane amount of money and resources to track her down. And Yusuf knew that once Eames found her, had learned who she was outside of dreamshare… Well, he guarded that secret as closely as his own identity. For all his shallow surface implied, Eames felt deeply and strongly for the things he considered worth caring about. His family and small group of friends, his books, his paintings… And along the way, Ana had been added to Eames' short list.

Eames had been drunk the day he came back from the Lewis job, Yusuf recalled as examined Arthur's PASIV. Drunk and covered in blood that wasn't his.

He drew out the vials that Ana had placed in there the day before. He'd studied Miron's notes carefully and tested his work and as far as Yusuf could tell, everything seemed sound. However he had a hunch that something about the specific formula Ana tested had contributed to her current situation.

Regardless of what Arthur thought, Yusuf knew how grief could drive sane people mad. How it made them do things that they wouldn't normally even consider. Yusuf made a decent living from people who ran from reality because of how much it hurt.

The impossible was sometimes built on a foundation of tears.

And if what Yusuf had heard was true: if Ana had watched her brother die at the hands of the men she trusted, because of the men she trusted – then there was no telling what a woman like her, one that Eames admired and perhaps even loved, could do. If she was even half as brilliant as he'd heard, then propelled by grief and hate, Ana could have built worlds.

Or destroyed them.

"What's that?" Miron asked, kneeling next to Yusuf on the carpet beside the PASIV. He eyed the dark blue liquid left in the vial that Yusuf held. "That's not my formula. It should not be that color."

Yusuf shook his head slowly and brought the vial up to the light, shaking it slightly. Something moved from the bottom of the vial and bloomed, lightening the liquid briefly before settling back down. There was a trace of powder at the lip and a crusted half-fingerprint on the side.

She may have been in a hurry, may have spilled a little bit onto her fingers as she…

As she what?

Eames often accused Arthur of having no imagination but Yusuf had it spades. He could imagine Ana, a faceless, blurry woman fumbling with the vial she'd just been handed. She had to walk across a room in front of everyone and plug herself into the PASIV in minutes. She wouldn't have had time for grace or finesse.

Her hands probably shook as she uncapped the vial. Perhaps she had to crush a pill in her fingertips. Perhaps she spilled some liquid as she pushed the powder in the container, leaving behind a fingerprint that went unnoticed in her haste.

Yusuf blinked himself out of his reverie and looked at Miron. The boy stared at him with his bright, curious eyes.

"That's because it's not your formula. It's something new."

###

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