A/N: Apologies for yet another delay - I hope the length makes up for it. Please read and review!

Happy holidays!

Chapter 10

Eames rapped on the door of the car and waited for Arthur to unlock the door.

"That was Yusuf," he said gruffly, as he settled back into the passenger seat. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "He needs a day or two more to analyze whatever the hell it was Ana pumped into herself."

Arthur turned back to look at Ana before he responded to Eames. She looked back at him evenly but said nothing.

They were a few miles from the school, parked in front of what looked to be a used bookstore. Across the way was a patisserie where a few people lingered outside on small, wooden benches. It would have been charming if Ana hadn't been preoccupied with watching Eames speak into his phone outside the car. He hadn't wanted her to hear their conversation; Ana knew it was for her sake that he'd made Arthur pull over.

She also knew she could afford to sit and wait patiently for now. After she followed them back into the car, Eames had included an addendum to his earlier promise: Ana had to stay with one of them at all times. No more escape attempts or 'mad dashes' for freedom.

Ana had agreed though she knew they were still worried. She held something over their heads, something that would force the truth out no matter how they felt about it. Unlike them, she had time on her side now and that felt good.

For once she felt as if she had control over her situation. That settled her a little bit, even if she was wrong. Eames could lie and Arthur could tie her down or lock her in a room but Ana chose to believe in the illusion. She was too drained to do anything else.

"Yusuf was sure it wasn't Miron's formula," Arthur said, turning to Eames. "What did he find?"

"It wasn't Miron," Eames said, shoving his phone into his jacket. He shifted out of his seat to look at her. His full lips were pressed tightly together as he watched her. "Apparently, you put something into the mixture that changed it. All Yusuf can say right now is that he thinks it may suppress certain functions of the brain, specifically in the right hemisphere. It's sophisticated stuff. Yusuf sounded impressed. "

"There are areas in the right hemisphere that manage visual images and intense emotions," Arthur said. He sounded thoughtful but the lines around his mouth deepened. "Processes involved with the creation and retention of memories."

"Yes, Yusuf also noted that," Eames said, glancing at Arthur briefly. "He needs more time to study it, which we don't really have. Gideon arrives at approximately ten o'clock tonight. I'm willing to bet that the first thing he does is to cast a net around the city using Ana's description as bait."

He looked back at Ana. "And even if we didn't have Gideon to worry about, there's the matter of Avery and whatever little present you left for him."

"You have five days before Peter finds it," Ana said. She met Eames' gaze. "More or less."

"Well that's a relief, isn't it?" Eames said with a drawl. "As thrilling as our little adventure was just now, I don't particularly enjoy being on the wrong end of a hunting expedition. We need to get out of Paris, perhaps the country altogether, while Gideon is in town. Are you up for some travel, Ana?"

"Why are you so afraid of Gideon?" Ana asked. "Who is he?"

"Gideon Klein is your partner," Arthur said. Ana found it difficult to look away from Eames when he was looking so fixedly at her. She had to physically turn her head towards Arthur as he spoke. "You work for the U.S. government, for the FBI, as a supervisory agent."

She couldn't help it. Ana laughed in surprise. "I'm sorry?" she said. "I mean, from the way Peter spoke I assumed that I was… But not the FBI. That just seems so…"

"You're what's known colloquially as a criminal profiler," Eames said. "A behavioral analyst. As I'm sure you've noticed by now, you have a knack for putting things together that most people miss. It comes in particularly handy as an investigator, not to mention as an extractor."

Ana sobered at Eames' words. "Is that why you want to run from Gideon – because I could get you both in trouble?"

And myself as well?

"I think we crossed that bridge a while ago," Eames said. "Gideon knows about us. He has for quite some time. He hasn't come after us because you asked him not to."

"And he just listened to me?" Ana asked, incredulously. She found it difficult to believe that another FBI agent, her partner, could turn a blind eye to criminal activity. "Even knowing what you both do, what I do?"

"He felt he owed us a favor," Arthur said. Eames looked at Arthur sharply but he continued. "But it was a one-time deal. Now that he thinks you're back with us, he won't stop until he finds you. He probably thinks you're in danger."

"Gideon told me what happened at the hospital."

"They were willing to get into very deep trouble to help you."

Ana remembered Peter's words and fell silent. She could guess at what favor Gideon thought he owed both men.

"You have the envious ability to secure the loyalty of dangerous men," Eames said, with a slight, teasing smile. Ana felt an odd twist in her stomach at the way he looked at her. "Gideon's a loose cannon. There's no telling what the man will do. As much as it pains me to say, he thinks he's on your side. He doesn't like to see you suffer, Ana, nor does he bear the thought well. But he's also mad and there is no reasoning with him."

"He's been so worried about you these past few months."

"If he finds you, he won't bother listening to us," Eames went on. "He'll have us arrested and take you back to the states where I'm sure their best scientists will be brought in to study you–"

"Eames, don't," Arthur cut in but Eames waved him off.

"No more coddling, she should know," Eames said. He looked grim and that sent a chill through her.

"If he finds you before we can try to help, he won't consider any other alternatives. PASIV technology was a joint project between our governments so any assistance may very well come from there. They're more familiar with it than the private sector. Make no mistake, Ana, the PASIV was created for military use. If they figure out how you managed to block memories, helping you regain what you lost won't be a priority."

Arthur said nothing and Ana took his silence to mean that he agreed with Eames.

"So, running is the only alternative?" she asked softly. "Until I can be fixed. I have to run?"

Arthur sighed. "Eames is right. Gideon will turn you over to people who have other agendas. Give us a chance to at least try."

Ana looked down. She realized that Arthur was keeping to his promise and giving her a choice but as far as she could tell, there really wasn't one.

"Where can we go?"

###

They drove back to Ana's hotel room first: she had to pack and Arthur had left his laptop there.

They decided that the safest place to go was to Eames' safe house in London. It was a short enough flight that Yusuf could move quickly when he finished his analysis and Eames knew the neighborhood like the back of his hand. He had a close network of associates there, more so than he did anywhere else – after all, it was his old stomping ground.

"I give Gideon two or three days before he realizes you're no longer in the city and even then, he'll assume we went to Lyon. Arthur owns some property there under one of his decoy aliases. Gideon will follow the trail like a good little agent," Eames said with a satisfied smile as Arthur opened the door to the hotel room.

Ana walked into the suite, feeling a little overwhelmed at how quickly everything was moving suddenly. She stopped in the middle of the living area and looked around.

Was it only this morning since I was here? she thought. It feels like I've been away for days.

"I have contacts that can get us on a private flight out of here by this evening. We can bypass de Gaulle that way," Eames said, moving into the hallway. "No need for any of your wonderfully forged passports, at least for now."

Ana watched as Arthur loosened his tie and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked intently down at the screen before realizing that Ana was staring at him.

Arthur frowned and put his phone away.

"You okay?"

Ana nodded numbly. She felt odd, as if she were watching herself from a distance and for once she didn't bother thinking about her next step or to how to stay ahead of Eames and Arthur. The only real thought she had was–

I have to go wash my hands. I still have Peter's handkerchief.

"You don't seem sure," Arthur said. He moved closer. "Sit down and rest for a bit. Eames will pack for you. I still have things to check up on so it'll be a few hours before we head out."

She looked at Arthur's face and felt a pang of guilt. He could be cruel. Ana could see it in the way he moved, the way he spoke at times – giving orders without a second thought. Arthur was elegant and graceful but there was a carefully controlled brutality in the way he held himself that Ana recognized. Her first impression of him had been military and she knew she was right. However he had shown a depth of kindness towards her that she was still struggling to understand. He could have been angry with her – in fact, he likely was. But instead of lashing out, he'd shown only concern.

It frustrated her because she wanted to hold onto her anger and have someone to focus it on. Arthur seemed the easiest choice since Eames acted as if he were perfectly fine with telling her what she wanted to hear.

He's easier to read than Eames.

It wasn't because Arthur was more expressive. Quite the opposite; whereas Eames almost exaggerated his expressions, Arthur was stoic and still. But…

I know your face, Arthur. I know it so well that even now, I know how to read you without really knowing you.

And most disconcerting was that the more she was around him, the stronger the pull she felt towards him. Something about Arthur steadied her.

"I'm not sure of anything, really," Ana said, after a brief silence.

Arthur seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking. "You know that this was intentional. That you really did do this to yourself."

Ana felt her cheeks grow warm. "I know," she said. "No one else is responsible for my condition. I know that now."

Arthur's expression grew more strained.

"No, that's not what I..." He pressed his lips tightly together for a moment and then exhaled loudly. "That's not how I meant that."

He stared at her as if he were searching her face for something.

"You decided you'd be better off without your memories. You planned this. You willfully chose to forget who you were, what you had been through," he said. "So why not just trust in that? Why not accept the decision you made when you had that knowledge?"

"Arthur, could you honestly say that I was in my right mind when I did this?" Ana asked, shaking her head. "Do you think this was a rational act? Peter said I changed for the worse, that I became someone he didn't know. How can I accept a decision I made in that state? No matter how bad things were, it's better if I know. If I can work through it, I can–"

"What if you're wrong?"

Ana blinked, startled. "How could that be wrong?"

"What if you'd be better off not knowing?" he said quietly. "What if I told you that I think this is a better option for you?"

"Then we're just going to have to disagree on that," Ana said. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down. It would have been nice to have his support, would have preferred it even, rather than from Eames. "But that's not a very comforting thought."

"It's not meant to be comforting."

Arthur turned his back on her abruptly and walked towards his laptop on the counter. He sat down on a stool and began to type quickly, studying whatever it was on his screen with intense focus.

Ana felt her stomach twist at the dismissal and she watched him for a moment, hesitating before gathering up her courage once more.

"You're an only child," she said. "Your father was in the military. A career officer, maybe. He was older, in his forties, when you were born."

Arthur's head jerked up and he stared at her with wide eyes.

"Your mother was… A teacher? But she was able to stay home a lot," Ana said. She took a step forward and studied Arthur's expression. "You love them both very much but you don't see them often anymore."

When Arthur didn't say anything she went on, pulling together his little tells and habits that she'd collected over the past day and a half, and wove them into a story that made sense.

"You're ambidextrous but you prefer your right hand when you write or hold a gun. You kick with your left, even though you were injured on that side of your hip. It's an old injury but it still makes your walk a little less even. Most people probably look at you, at your build and think martial arts but you're much less controlled in a fight. You aim for maximum trauma, substance over style."

She thought for a moment and then decided. "You're not just military though. Special Forces? You probably went straight to West Point after high school. You implied we knew each other as young children. Did you live next door? Our parents knew each other. You knew my brother well but… But you were my friend first. You were mine and you valued that. You valued our friendship and it was important to you. I am important to you."

"What's your point?" Arthur said. Both hands lay flat on the counter beside his laptop. His face was blank but his dark eyes were sharp and bright.

"I'm glad I have your attention again," Ana said wryly. "Was any of it wrong?"

He shook his head slowly, shoulders tense and hunched up.

"It's funny then because I find that last part hard to believe," she said. She looked back at the hallway before facing Arthur again. "You tell me that I'm better off like this, as this new person with no history, no past. But our friendship is a part of my past, isn't it?"

Ana turned away, moving towards the bedroom where she could hear Eames moving around. She didn't want to see Arthur's face anymore, his impassive, guarded expression.

"Whoever I was before… I think if I really meant anything to you, you wouldn't be so quick to throw me away."

###

"I think I found something."

Ana closed the door behind her and looked at the small plastic baggie Eames held up. There were three white pills inside.

She looked down at her suitcase, which lay open on the floor, and then at her clothes and other belongings on the bed. It was clear he'd been going through her things closely and Ana bit down on her irritation.

What's the point? It doesn't really matter anyway.

"Where'd you find it?" she asked. She leaned on the door wearily.

"Amongst your toiletries," Eames said, handing her the bag. He gestured to a beige case on the dresser. "Now, I can't make any claims regarding my deductive skills like you can but I suspect that this may be what you put in the Somnacin before you went into the dream."

Ana opened the baggie and sniffed it, ignoring Eames' curious look.

It wasn't just chalk on my skirt.

The scent was familiar. Dry and old. Ana stood up and moved past him, picking up the skirt that she'd worn the day before.

"I thought it was chalk from Peter's office," she said after a moment. She looked up back at Eames and held up the fabric. "I found a candy wrapper in the pocket and white powder on the surface near the pocket."

"And that's how you deduced you'd been at a school," Eames said. "Clever."

"Yeah, not so much," Ana said. She threw the skirt back on the bed and sighed heavily. "There was an address in the notebook in my bag. Those things just confirmed that I had gone to a school. But the scent from the powder on my skirt, it smells like both Avery's office and those pills. I should have noticed the difference."

Eames looked at her oddly before letting out a small huffed laugh. "Don't berate yourself for not being a bloodhound."

"I'm not, I just…" Ana trailed off and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared at her hands on her lap and began to slowly unwrap the handkerchief from her palm. A few stitches had opened but her cuts were beginning to heal. They itched.

Eames sat on the other bed and stared at her. "Just what?"

"Arthur says that maybe I'm better off this way," she said. She twisted the handkerchief around her fingers. "Just not knowing. Never knowing. He said this was a better option."

"Well, it's not up to Arthur now, is it?" he said. "And you were never the type to let a mystery go unexamined."

Ana glanced at Eames and then nodded at the clothes on the bed she sat upon. "What was I like?"

Eames raised an eyebrow and smiled, full lips closed over his crooked teeth. It was a secretive smile, both sly and charming and Ana was grateful for it.

"Why don't you tell me what you think first?"

Ana thought for a moment and then shrugged, looking back down at her lap.

"Just based off my luggage and clothing? I wanted to hide," she said. "To blend in. I liked being comfortable but I wasn't really interested in luxury. I'm paid well–"

"Very well," Eames cut in and Ana smiled slightly.

"I don't doubt that but I didn't spend my money on clothing. I was practical." She reached up and touched the necklace underneath her sweater. It was the only jewelry she'd seen in her possession. "Family probably meant a lot to me. I loved my brother."

Ana frowned and then looked back at her belongings, spread across the bed. Newly bought things in muted colors, lacking personality…

"I was likely still mourning his death," she said. "I was–"

Sleepwalking

"–tired. I was tired."

She remembered looking at her reflection, at the ribs she could see and her prominent collarbones. Her pale skin and limp hair. She'd lost weight as she'd noticed Arthur had, but she'd had the presence of mind to buy new clothes.

I wanted to hide the loss, just as much as I wanted to hide myself.

Baggy clothes would have made it obvious. So would loud colors.

"Yes, you were," Eames said gently. He reached out and took the handkerchief, putting it aside before wrapping his larger hands around hers. Ana looked up at his face and saw he'd gone serious again.

"You wore dresses," he said. "You always wore these pretty, little things. It delighted you so much I suspected you didn't get a chance to show your lovely things off often. You were wildly curious, almost to a fault, and you were quick to smile and easily amused by the people and things around you. You were genuinely kind."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense and solemn.

"Some people in dreamshare do it for the money, or the chance to build something that never before existed, or for the power that knowledge can bring them. But you… It was all about the unfolding of a mystery. You lived for the pursuit of truth. You used to sit in the corner of the room and watch us work and you'd break us open with your bright eyes, all without asking a single question. It unnerved most people, to be honest, but it was glorious to witness."

His voice was fond and warm and Ana couldn't doubt his sincerity. And yet….

"So I enjoyed what I did?" Ana said. Her hands were hot in Eames' grasp but she didn't feel like pulling away yet.

"I won't lie to you. You struggled with the criminal aspects of it and after a while it took its toll on you. Oh, you loved going under. You told me once that no one could hide in a dream; that everything was clearer in them. But I don't think you realized that it also meant people's darkest thoughts, their most wicked desires, would also come to light. It began to wear you down, jumping into the most vile, horrid minds. You came in too quickly and you were pushed too far, too soon."

"I study criminals for a living," Ana said. "I find it hard to believe I would be squeamish about any of that."

Eames shook his head. "It's not the same thing. Outside of dreams, you can distance yourself from the people you study but imagine diving into someone's mind. Imagine being surrounded by them, having every single breath you took in saturated with their presence. Being in the mind of a white collar thief is one thing but what do you think it would be like if you went into the mind of a killer? A murderer? Someone who tortures others, not for gain of fortune, but for simple enjoyment?"

Ana mulled over that for a moment. She knew she was no shrinking flower and that any dream she entered would have been of her volition. Still, she understood what Eames was saying: how could anyone be prepared to enter someone else's mind, especially one that was disturbed?

"It was my decision though. Any job I took, I made the choice to go," Ana said. She cleared her throat. "I was aware of what I was doing. Right?"

Eames kept his silence.

"Why would I have done anything I didn't want to?" Ana pushed him.

"Arthur chose your jobs," Eames said finally. "He was your point of contact for dreamshare for a long time. He always made sure to pursue the most interesting, most profitable jobs."

"Arthur wouldn't put me in harm's way," Ana said without hesitation. She leaned back a little, as if physically recoiling from the implication. Even though she'd just argued with him earlier, she knew that Arthur wouldn't intentionally hurt her. "I trusted him and he–"

Feels safe

"–he's careful. I think he'd know me well enough to know my limits."

Eames tightened his fingers around hers briefly.

"I think Arthur overestimated your enthusiasm and underestimated your distaste for the cruelty in others," he said. "It's something else I noticed about you – you were so eager to please him."

Ana jerked back, offended, but Eames held on to her.

"Listen to me," he coaxed. "I don't mean to give you the impression that you were a puppy, following him around. You were his friend and you held him in high enough regard that when he came to you with an offer, you accepted. It never seemed to occur to you to say no, not until much later."

Ana stilled and Eames went on.

"I wasn't pulled into every job you did at first. My talents are rather niche, after all. However, it seemed that each time we were all together, the jobs became progressively darker and more intense. To be sure, you had a lucky streak in the beginning. Arthur was able to shield you from the worst of it but even he couldn't control everything. You started to work with me after a job that… Well. After another job gone bad, you needed distance from Arthur. And I wanted to show you the fun side of criminal activity."

Ana ignored his little joke. "What happened?" she asked. "What made me walk away from him?"

"You woke up from a dream," Eames said steadily, his gaze focused intently on her, "to find a gun pointed at his head."

Ana blinked.

Of course.

Criminals in dreams were criminals, period. Anyone she worked with would have been suspect.

"You were sold out," Eames said. "Our actions in dreams have real-life consequences. For the most part, you'd worked jobs that had minimal penalties."

"But not that one," Ana said. He paused briefly, looking slightly uncomfortable, before shaking his head.

"No, not that one," he said.

"So what happened then?"

To her surprise, Eames reached out and brushed his fingertips across her cheek, underneath her eye.

"Look at you," he said quietly. "You look like you're about to collapse. There's no color in your face."

"I want to know–"

"And I'll tell you everything I know, just as I promised," he said. "I've told you plenty already, haven't I? But the fact of the matter is we need to put your things away and ready ourselves for the flight out. I have more calls to make and I should get the samples I found in your bag to Yusuf. Arthur's still playing with his little machine so I'd like you to stay here and keep him company."

Ana felt something like desperation bubble up in her chest but she forced it back down. She was afraid that Eames would stop talking; that he'd dangle out bits of information and then jerk them away from her as if he were playing a game.

But he was right. There would be time enough for storytelling and Ana had to let him go without a fight.

She nodded jerkily and Eames looked grateful, as if he knew how much it took for her to say nothing.

"Wonderful," he said. He got to his feet and pulled her gently to her feet. "Now, clean those hands of yours while I gather your things and–"

"No," Ana said quickly. "I can manage, I think. I can pack."

Eames looked skeptical but he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But call out if you need any help. It wouldn't do to get an infection now, hm? While I have plenty of friends in London, I'd rather not draw anyone else onto my property."

"Right. Of course not," Ana said. She began to pull away from Eames but once again he stopped her from drawing back.

"There are things you'll hear, things we'll tell you that will make you angry," Eames softly. His voice, though barely a whisper, was firm. "But never doubt for a moment that we tried to do our best by you. That I only thought of you first."

"I believe you," Ana said. She glanced down at their joined hands before looking back up. "I mean, I will believe you."

"Good," he said, sounding satisfied. He finally let her go and moved towards the door. "That's all I can ask."

"Eames?"

He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, mouth already tilted back up in a faint smile. It was as if the moment that had just taken place never happened, all the intensity and passion gone in the time it took to blink.

It unsettled Ana to see Eames change so quickly.

"Were we…" Ana stopped and then looked away, no longer sure she should ask her question.

Eames turned back around to face her though his hand remained on the door knob. "Were we what?"

"Our relationship," Ana said finally. "What was it? Were we just colleagues or friends? Or..."

Ana laughed to hide her sudden embarrassment. She could figure it out for herself over the next few days – she felt silly, like a teenager with a crush, for even asking.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "I only meant that–"

Eames grinned suddenly, a brilliant, surprising expression of joy and Ana found herself smiling back automatically.

He tapped his nose and winked, saying nothing else before walking out.

###

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