A/N: Does anyone remember the author's note from the first chapter, when I say there's a love triangle? Here it is.

Also, thanks so much for the reviews! If I could hug all of you in person, I would.

Chapter 13

"Okay." Arthur didn't move from his position and Ana saw him blinking down at the floor with his hands curled in his hair like claws. "Okay, I can do that. But for the last time, this is your chance at a fresh start. There's no going back. Once you know, you can't change anything anymore. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Ana said without hesitation.

All the fight seemed to leave Arthur then and he simply asked, "Where do you want me to start?"

Ana placed her hands in her lap and fought down the shiver of fear and excitement that threatened to burst through. She didn't think it would be so easy – she thought Arthur would push back again, ask for more time but it seemed she had struck at the right time.

And so she sat very still, afraid that any movement on her part would cause him to change his mind.

"How did I get into dreamshare?" she asked. "You brought me in. Why? When?"

Arthur drew in a deep breath and sat up, leaning tiredly against the back of the chair. It was odd to see him slumped over, the normally neat and straight lines of his body curved and soft. It signaled defeat, a visible indication of his surrender.

"I said we lost touch for a little while after high school," Arthur said. "But that doesn't mean we didn't keep in contact throughout the years. I called or sent notes every now and then. All through college and beyond. I kept tabs on you but you had your life to live. I didn't want to interfere, especially when I went underground. Our kind of extraction isn't exactly on the legal side of the law and I wanted to make sure that nothing I did reached you."

"So what changed?"

"It was the perfect storm of things, actually." Arthur tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His hair was drying and she could see the slight wave in the strands. It made him look surprisingly boyish. "I'd just finished a big job some months before. It was something I didn't even think was possible. Up until that point I was working most jobs with Dom – that is, Dom Cobb. He's an architect by trade but he's also a talented extractor. He was in some trouble and I tried to help him out, mostly because I was good friends with his wife, Mal. She passed away and… Well, Mal was the one who introduced me to Dom and she was…"

Arthur trailed off and passed his hand over his face. Ana suddenly realized he was close to tears. Before she could say or do anything though he seemed to pull himself together and went on, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

"I'd been running around the world for what seemed like years at that point but after that job, I was free. Dom retired and for the first time in a long time, I was on my own. I kicked around for a bit. Did a few things here and there. I suddenly had all this time and freedom on my hands and I wasn't sure what to do with it."

"You were restless."

"That was part of it, yeah," Arthur said. "I knew I wanted to stay in dreams. It's my life's work and I couldn't imagine doing anything else but I knew my limitations. I'm an analyst at heart. I like details, things to pick at and tear apart. In a pinch, I can build–"

"Like Ariadne?"

"Sure, like Ariadne but I'm best on point. Show me the plan and I can make things happen. I can work solo but I'm better in a partnership and I knew then I needed someone to balance me out. Someone who was a big picture thinker, who could take details and turn them into one story that made sense. Someone who could make connections between disparate systems. Who understood people at a base level. I needed an extractor."

And you needed someone you could implicitly trust.

Ana looked at him sharply. "Me."

He finally turned towards her, nodding. "You used to tell me that people were essentially topographies. You saw us all as maps. Every action and reaction was a destination, a road that led to some essential truth about a person. I realized that I needed someone who thought that way; someone who saw the mind as a map would be able to apply that knowledge to dreams."

Ana found herself agreeing with him. His words had struck some truth inside of her that she hadn't known how, up until that point, to articulate.

A slight gesture of the hand, a twist of the mouth, the way someone's shoulder tilts.

People as topographies – it was the perfect analogy.

A calloused finger, the pattern of mud on a trouser leg, a faded patch of fabric on a sweater.

A description of the way she thought, coming from Arthur, was disturbing. It meant he truly knew her if he knew how she saw the world.

"And that's why you chose me," Ana said. "Because you thought I could navigate through people's dreams."

"Your skills were part of the reason, yes," he said slowly. "But the truth was that you were bored. You worked hard to get to where you did. You liked your job because it suited you and you liked the life you made for yourself but I could tell you were starting to get tired of it all.

"When we were kids, Matt always wanted to go on quests and slay dragons, but you wanted the rush of discovery, of seeing things no one else had seen before. You were so determined to do more, to have more but you ended up…"

"Working for the FBI?" Ana said wryly. "Sounds pretty exciting to me, Arthur. Maybe in comparison to sharing dreams, it really was dull. But most people-"

"You weren't most people, Ana," Arthur cut her off abruptly. "You kept a draft of your resignation letter on hold for months before I came to you. You were ready for a change but I don't think you even knew what your next move was going to be. Sure, you wanted to stay close to your brother and you liked working with Avery, who was your partner before Gideon, but that was it. You were like a compass without a true north to point toward."

Ana narrowed her eyes but decided to let it pass for now. It was obvious Arthur had kept a much closer eye on her than he let on.

How long did you watch me, Arthur?

How close were you to me without me knowing?

Or had she known Arthur was around? If she had been tired of her life as it had been, as Arthur said she was, did she allow Arthur to approach her?

In the end, Ana could only take his word at face value.

"So dreamshare."

He nodded again and sat back with a sigh.

"You loved it," Arthur said. "The first dream we ever shared… I can still remember your face. You were so excited. You wanted to stay under for hours; in fact, you begged me for more time. I created cities, forests, mazes – all for you to explore. You were like a kid set loose on the playground. I knew I'd done the right thing in coming to you, even if it was just to give you that experience."

He cut off suddenly and then let out a soft laugh. "At least, back then I knew."

"And I was okay with the criminal aspects of it?" Ana asked. "Even considering what I did for a living?"

"You ran consults on investigations for the FBI," Arthur said, "and you taught at Quantico. Everyone was tripping over themselves to pull you into cases. But I think you became a profiler only because you were interested in people. Crime and punishment was never your thing, it was the study of behavior that drew you in. Instead of exploring the world, you explored people. I think it was your version of adventure – the mind as the last great frontier."

Ana frowned. "Still. Entering people's dreams without their permission…"

"Our subjects were bad people, Ana," Arthur said firmly. "You wouldn't do a job if our standards weren't met. You took information from people who killed, stole, really hurt others. If children were involved, you wanted the job. We didn't deal with petty or mundane grievances."

"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."

Ana thought about what Eames told her and realized that he likely hadn't known about this aspect of her partnership with Arthur. Jobs like that must have come with a hefty price tag but based on what Arthur was saying, it had never been about the money.

"I think Arthur overestimated your enthusiasm and underestimated your distaste for the cruelty in others."

He had been so quick to vilify Arthur.

"That was one stipulation you had for me," Arthur said. "The other was that your brother wouldn't get involved in what we did or the people we worked with. We never took jobs in the states and no one knew your real name. Most of the jobs we took were short – once you signed on, I'd hand over the research before we even stepped on a plane. It was safer that way."

"But then things started going wrong," Ana said.

Arthur's face darkened. "Did Eames tell you that?"

Ana hesitated before nodding. It was the truth, after all. "He said we were lucky in the beginning but then the jobs got more intense."

"You were getting burnt out," Arthur said after a short, thoughtful pause. "You kept agreeing to jobs because you thought you could help people but I didn't know that then. I couldn't see how worn out you were getting. I thought… I don't know, that you were getting bored, losing interest just as you had with the FBI. It was my fault. We started going into minds I should have never let you into. I should have seen the signs but I was so worried…"

He trailed off and looked down again.

"Worried about what?" Ana asked.

She studied him closely, thinking. Arthur had stayed in her life even when she didn't know he was doing so. He had come to her at the moment when she was ready for something new. He found jobs that met her requirements.

Arthur hadn't just been worried about Ana becoming jaded.

It was more than that.

"I can work solo but I'm better in a partnership."

"You were worried I would leave you," she said.

Arthur smiled thinly.

"Every time I called you, you'd answer," he said. "When we worked together… You had such faith in me, Ana. You trusted me without any reservations. I could never figure out what I'd done to earn that, especially when it should have been the opposite, but it was there. I didn't want to let that go."

"I worked with you exclusively and then I worked with Eames," she said, thinking back to the conversation at the hotel. "What happened, Arthur? Eames made it sound like I couldn't handle the type of jobs we took anymore but that doesn't seem right. If I left you, it was because of something other than me being simply fed up."

And she knew she was right. Eames and Arthur had given her small insights into her past personality but those were enough to give her a picture of who they thought she was. She was loyal. For her to leave Arthur there had to have been a deeply personal reason. One that had little or nothing to do with their work.

It could have been something to do with Matthew, she thought but that didn't make sense.

She worked with Arthur, then she worked with Eames and then she was out. Whatever happened with Matthew had taken place after she'd already walked away from dreaming altogether.

"Before Matt died, you were already back to living your life without dreamshare. Without me or Eames."

"It was a lot of little things that added up to make you leave. The jobs we took on got riskier and not just topside or in the real world. The more corrupt the mind, the more dangerous the environment. Some minds were so dark that their dreams were nightmares, no matter how much structure we tried to build around them. It started to affect the way you looked at people and the way you looked at yourself."

"What do you mean? Affect me how?"

Arthur drew in a deep breath. "You developed this… This thing with mirrors. I'd find you looking at your reflection sometimes as if you didn't recognize yourself. When I finally asked you what was wrong, you told me that behind every face was something dark. No matter how much they tried to hide, you could always find it. I think you were trying to find what was hiding behind your own face. You felt like… You said you felt like you were becoming contaminated."

"Contaminated," Ana repeated, feeling odd. They were talking about her as if she were someone else. "You mean by other people's dreams? Where did that come from?"

Arthur turned his face from her and looked back down at the floor.

"We were in a dream once made up of mirrors – it was pretty fucking horrible. It was just a maze of mirrors, all reflecting our faces. The architect got a little too creative with it and built the thing bigger than it should have been. You got lost during a test run and… You panicked. I heard you screaming my name and I tried to find you but by the time I got to you–"

She remembered Arthur's frightened, angry face in the bathroom of the Le Royal Monceau. "I was trying to find my way out. Or to destroy what I saw."

"You wouldn't stop screaming," Arthur said dully. His face went slack for a moment, as if he had to distance himself from the words he spoke. "Then you took a shard and…"

He stopped and closed his eyes. She watched him breathe in and breathe out slowly. For a moment, Ana wanted to tell him to stop, to get some rest.

But another part, cold and curious, made her stay silent.

I wanted to know everything, after all.

"You took yourself out of the dream," he finished, opening his eyes. "And I followed you out. When we woke up, you said you were fine. You even laughed like it was no big deal you'd just ripped your own throat open. You wanted to finish the job so we did. I did what you wanted me to do, not what I should have done. I just wanted to believe you'd be okay.

"I made so many mistakes, Ana. There were jobs I shouldn't have passed along. Things I shouldn't have let you do before you were ready. Or ever."

"But what was the last straw?" Ana pressed on. "Bad jobs, I get that. And I want to hear about them all. I want to hear about every single job we did together. But what was it that made me start working with Eames?"

"St. Petersburg," Arthur said. He looked at her with a solemn expression. "It was the last job we worked together. It was supposed to be an easy job – just you and me and an architect. Quick in and out. But we were ambushed before we could secure the mark. I was shot twice and you… You still have scars, don't you? On your arms."

"Yeah," Ana said, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up and showing him her forearms. "I noticed them on my legs as well. I didn't know where they had come from of course, but I knew they were old. They're not too deep though."

Arthur reached out and pulled her towards him. Their knees bumped together and his hands were cold but gentle as he touched her bare skin. She could hear him breathe in heavily at the sight of her faint scars.

"You were the dreamer and you'd just gone under to do a final run through. Boyd was our architect and he ratted us out to the subject," he said. His voice was hoarse and shaky again. "He was going to leave you down there alone. He told me… Fuck, he was going to cancel out the timer and just keep you under. But you woke up just as he pulled a gun on me. He had his back turned to you and I knew you were awake but you stayed still, just waiting for an opening."

"You thought I'd attack him?" Ana asked, with some surprise. "What could I have possibly done?"

"You weren't a stranger to violence," Arthur said ruefully. "I didn't want to let him know you were conscious but even before you could move, shots were fired through the windows. I found out later that we weren't the only team he'd turned on but of course, they didn't know that difference. Boyd was killed instantly but we were separated.

"You were on the other side of the room and I didn't get down fast enough. I took one hit to my side and another through my arm. I told you to get out. You were near the exit and you were armed so you had the best chance of escaping but you didn't listen to me. You didn't leave me."

Up close, Ana could see his bloodshot eyes and the shadows underneath. She felt his fingers pass over her scars as if he were writing lines on her skin.

"You got these from crawling across the floor. They kept shooting into the room so you had to stay low. It was only lucky you spilled coffee on yourself that day and had to change into pants; otherwise, your legs would have been ripped to shreds. You tried to use my jacket to protect your arms but you still got hurt trying to get across the room."

Ana stared at him. "To get to you."

Arthur's hands tightened slightly. "I barely remember getting out of there. You must have dragged me out of the room and down the back way. I was in and out of consciousness but I remember you telling me to stay awake. You kept talking to me, I remember that. I held on to your voice asking me how to say things in French, in Russian, the conversion rates in Holland. Somehow you got us to a hospital; you used your contacts to keep us off the radar."

"And then what happened?"

"I was out of surgery and just waking up when you came to see me," Arthur said. His expression had gone flat, his eyes glassy and distant, and Ana couldn't help herself. She pulled out of his grasp and reached up to place her hands on his face. His stubble was rough on her palms and his skin was cool and clammy.

She saw his lips part at her touch and his gaze sharpened and focused.

Look at me, Arthur. Keep talking and stay with me here, now.

"Do you know what you looked like when you came into the room?" Arthur asked. His thin face was ashen. "You wore white that day and when I saw you again, you were covered in red. You were covered in my blood and your arms... It was like that dream, just like that dream."

"But it was real," Ana said. "Did you forget it was reality?"

"No," Arthur said harshly. "How could I forget? When you saw me, you smiled. After all you'd been through, after everything I put you through, you smiled at me."

"You were my friend. I was happy you were alive."

But I must have been so scared.

"Your friend. Sure. You told me you were sorry because you ruined my suit jacket. You told me... You told me that…"

"I told you what, Arthur?"

"You have to understand something. I was in that bed, looking up at you and thinking about what a mess I'd made of things. You got me to that hospital safely which meant you put your career at risk. Gideon was still new then and he was suspicious of you, of what you were doing outside of his watch. You put yourself on the line like that because of me. It never should have been that way.

"I kept thinking about all jobs that went wrong. All the mistakes I made. I was so fucking sorry." Arthur was getting agitated again, his face becoming harsh and stern. "I dragged you down into my world and all you had to show for it were scars and nightmares. And there you were smiling at me. You weren't even angry."

"Hey, no," Ana said. She decided they'd both had enough. She knew Arthur didn't really want to break down in front of her; stoic and dependable Arthur wouldn't have wanted to display his emotions like this, pushed to his breaking point in someone else's home.

"Listen, let's take a break and–"

"You loved me," he snapped. And then his face crumpled. "You said you loved me. You wanted to take a break, the two of us. Run away for a little while."

Ana's heart stuttered.

"And I told you no. That you were wrong. That I could give you nothing in return."

###

It wasn't that you lied to me. It was that you lied to me again. That somehow you thought, in your own turned-around way that you only said what I needed to hear. You wanted to protect me, but from what? You? Dreaming? The cruelty of other people? The world?

How arrogant of you to think that you had that responsibility, ever. As if I were a child and you were the adult and you knew better. Who gave you the right to think that? I certainly didn't.

You know what I saw when I looked down at you that day?

I saw in your eyes the constant push and pull of the future. I saw that I would never really have what I hoped for. You'd never say what I really needed to hear because of your guilt. You brought me into dreaming because you wanted me to have a greater life but you never asked me what I wanted. Not really. You never asked the important questions because you thought you already had all the answers.

You of all people should have understood that dreams change because people change.

In that one moment I wanted you to understand that I came with you because I was curious and excited about the possibilities of dreaming. But, Arthur, when the dreams became bad I stayed only because I loved you.

You invalidated everything I felt, every hope I harbored, and made me a fool.

And it wasn't even the first time.

Fool me twice.

###

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Ana came back to her surroundings slowly. She turned towards the doorway of her bedroom where Eames stood, holding a mug. His smile was wide and warm as he looked at her.

"Tea?" he said, walking in. "Unless you want something more substantial. It's been quite a bit of time since breakfast."

As if in a daze, Ana looked back at the open wardrobe she'd been standing before. "No," she said faintly. "I'm… No, tea is fine."

It had only been an hour since she left Arthur behind in his room but it felt like much longer. From there, she'd wandered back into the library before returning to her room. There'd been something niggling at the back of her mind, details that Ana had only begun to make sense of that she wanted to follow up on… But mostly, she needed space away from Arthur.

It hadn't surprised her, not really, to know she'd felt strongly for him–

I loved him

–but to hear Arthur say it made her suddenly shy and off-balance. Ana didn't doubt that it was true. In fact, the revelation was almost anticlimactic but knowing that she said the words to Arthur stirred up something inside of her that she'd been ignoring. Ana felt drawn to him the moment she saw his face and now perhaps she knew why.

He never said he loved me back.

With Arthur though, actions meant so much more than words ever could. His hold on her had been tight and possessive, almost tinged with desperation and only the sound of his mobile going off had loosened his grip. She escaped as soon as she was able, needing to be alone, needing to figure out the whirlwind of emotions she felt, only…

What she found in the library had made an even bigger mess of things.

What was I thinking? How could I have gotten things so tangled up?

No wonder I had to walk away from everything.

"…dollop of honey but you never were a fan," Eames was saying. She was startled to find him right beside her and she knew he noticed the slight jump she gave at the sound of his voice. He handed her the mug which she took with both hands and stared down at its contents. "Still, I know the library can get dusty so I thought some refreshments were in order. I have a packet or two of biscuits, if you want."

Ana closed her eyes briefly.

Liar, liar.

"In any case, I was wondering if you were up to a grand tour of the place now."

"Maybe later," Ana said. She looked up and forced herself to smile. "I'm okay for now. I just… I need some time alone just now. Please."

Eames looked at her closely, a faint frown on his full mouth. The smell of paint and turpentine was stronger around him and she took a step back, trying to get away from the scent.

"Are you alright?" he said slowly, ignoring her request. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "You seem a bit on edge."

She took a deep breath to center her thoughts.

Why didn't you say anything, Eames?

Ana stared at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. She reached out with one arm and ran her fingers over the various fabrics.

How long, Eames?

For how long?

"Ana." Eames put his hand on her arm and realized he'd been saying her name repeatedly. "What's wrong?"

Ana opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

The kindness in his voice made her heart heavy because of how much it held, because of what it might mean. She thought back to every encounter she'd had with Eames over the past two days and suddenly everything – every action, every word, seemed to take on a new significance.

Arthur had to know what came after.

What did he do then?

Did I want to hurt him or did I really…

Did I really.

"What's been weighing on your mind then, hm? You look as if you've seen a ghost there," Eames said. He took the mug from her hand and put it down on the floor before straightening again. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body and she wanted to back away from it all. She felt like running away, hiding from the things she'd done and said and felt.

Ghosts.

My ghost.

Ana decided she didn't like the person she'd been, especially if her suspicions–

I'm right. I have proof here.

–proved true.

So Ana stared at her hands, not sure what to ask first, not sure if Eames would even answer her truthfully.

Finally she realized there was only one real question to ask.

"Eames," she said quietly, forcing herself to look up into his eyes. "How long did I live here?"

She waited for his reply but there was only silence.

###

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