Chapter 16

"So based on what Cobb's found, we have to proceed as if we're dealing with two subjects," Eames said. "Ana now and Ana then."

Arthur nodded as he wrote the words two minds/split consciousness on the large easel pad before him. After a moment, he added dual personalities – two levels.

Turning around to face Eames, Arthur said, "If Ana, the consciousness that we've been interacting with over the past few days, is our subject on the first level it's unlikely her militarization will be as effective. We should still be prepared and stay low but it takes a lot of effort to maintain that level of discipline, especially if she's using most of her energy to keep her memories focused in one projection."

"That projection is a part of Ana," Eames said. "To a certain extent, it's more of Ana than what we're dealing with in reality. And if she's dropped down to Limbo, she may not have control over what happens a level above. Her defenses will be down and she wants us there anyway."

He stretched out on the yellow couch and looked at the easel speculatively.

"Yusuf said the sedative he's cooked up for our little adventure is the strongest one he's made yet. It's based on the same foundation as the mixture Ana took originally. One level is all we need."

"One level is all we get," Arthur corrected. Ana's subconscious wouldn't be able to support anything more. She was containing large amounts of information at different levels; her mind could only take so much before it collapsed in on itself.

"How exactly do you propose getting down to Limbo if–" Eames' head snapped up in mid-sentence and he looked at Arthur incredulously. "I see. Taking the quickest way down then, hm?"

Arthur looked back at him silently.

Ana's hasty departure had forced them to swallow down their animosity and focus. They had to have the simplest, smartest plan possible and considering the compressed timeline they were on, they didn't have much time to get truly creative. As bright and as sharp as they were – and Arthur wasn't deluded in thinking they weren't both the best in what they did – there was too much at stake for stupid risks.

But the smart risks, Arthur thought, we can take.

They'd moved to Eames' studio after a quick check on Ana. She'd fallen asleep and even if it was past lunch, they'd decided to let her sleep. She'd been clutching the sketch book so tightly in sleep that Eames had let it be.

"Tell me you'll at least warn her this time," Eames said. Arthur heard the implied threat in his voice. "Not only will this be her first dream, at least as far as she knows, the last thing she should have to witness is an unexpected suicide."

"Of course I will," Arthur snapped. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pressing his knuckles against his eyelids briefly. When he opened them again, he tried to tell himself he felt calmer.

For Ana's sake. This is all for her sake.

"I'll tell her what she needs to know," he said in a steadier voice.

Eames snorted. "And what exactly is it you think she needs to know? That she may need to fight herself, literally in her own mind? That she might be the target, not just us, but of her own projections. Even if her resistance is down, her projections may not even recognize her."

"They will," Arthur said. And then he looked hard at Eames. "We always know ourselves in dreams and Ana has always been self-aware. Have you told her everything yet, Eames? Does she know how her brother died?"

Eames' expression grew dark. Arthur smiled grimly when he didn't answer.

"Does she know," Arthur said in a low voice, "that you told Lewis to choose Matt? Have you told her how she begged for his life or how she begged to die after she watched his head blown open?"

Eames' face looked as if it were carved from stone. "I will tell her all of that and more," he said. "I will not hide anything I've done from her."

"Before or after she falls in love with you?" Arthur asked. "This version of her anyway. That's what you want, isn't it? For her to love you so that her forgiveness is a given and you can live happily ever after. Neat trick, right?"

Something in the other man's expression shifted and he leaned back to regard Arthur with a calculating look. Eames' pose was deceptively lax. He had one arm slung over the back of the loveseat he sat on and his legs were stretched out over the cushions as if in repose. But there was a cunning brightness in his eyes that Arthur was familiar with.

"Do you really want to talk about this now, Arthur? Very well," Eames said lightly. "I know I didn't come first. I wasn't her first choice. She wanted you all along. It's why she followed after you for much longer than she should have – no sense of self-preservation, that one. Not when it came to her perfect Arthur, who could do no wrong."

Arthur clenched his jaw. "Eames–"

"But you made a mistake," Eames continued, ignoring him. "She offered you herself and you turned her away because you were perfect, self-sacrificing Arthur. You didn't expect her to walk though. Thought she'd stay patient and meek and mild because she always had for you before. But then she shut you out. You must have realized how hurt she was at that point. How much you hurt her."

"And you took advantage of that," Arthur said.

"Bloody straight I did. Unlike most, I can learn from the mistakes of others."

Arthur swallowed down his retort and turned back to the easel.

Focus.

Eames was right but it didn't make him in the right.

"On the first level, create a keep within the citadel," Arthur said briskly. The keep in a castle was the safest, strongest area. It wouldn't do to simply tell Ana where to keep Gideon's code but her mind would seek it out automatically as a good hiding place. It was clear from Eames' sketch that Ana had some familiarity with basic castle structure. "Stay close to Ana's layout but not too close – we need to be able to double back in some areas in case her projections get testy."

Arthur heard a shuffle and then the soft sounds of a pencil against paper. While most architects liked to make scales of their levels, Eames liked to draw. His creations were often too strange, too defiant of things like gravity or physics to be confined to models.

"We'll use the keep to go under," Arthur went on. "It should be strong enough to hold off even a large crowd."

"Oh, I think I'll be able to handle myself just fine," Eames said. "But there's something we haven't yet talked about; how do you propose re-integrating Ana's memories into her conscious, surface personality? She has to do it willingly, after all. The subconscious personality, the Ana who planned all of this in the first place, won't be very accommodating, I'm afraid."

He had a point; Arthur didn't know what they would find in the deepest, darkest part of Ana's subconscious mind. Dom told him that every mind was different; what he had experienced in his version of Limbo wouldn't be the same as Ana's. And she'd been under for far longer than he had – alone and aware she was dreaming. Knowing that nothing around her was real.

"It would be enough to drive anyone mad."

Arthur had to wonder how long she'd been waiting for them to come after her.

"She has to end it, not me," Arthur said slowly. He thought about what Dom had told him, thought about Ana's notes. He remembered Mal's shade, the cold, blank stare of her face in Dom's dream. He fought down a shiver, not wanting to imagine what Ana had become. "Neither personality can exist in the same space. If her memories are contained in one projection–"

"That projection has to die in order for the memories to be released," Eames finished for him. He narrowed his eyes. "So Ana stays with me on the first level because she's the dominant consciousness in reality. If you bring her down to Limbo..."

Eames trailed off and rubbed his mouth. He looked anxious and Arthur knew what he didn't want to say.

To bring both personalities, both different sets of consciousness into one plane of dreaming would practically force Ana's mind to split in half, no question about it. Arthur had warned about it as a possibility but now he was realizing that forcing them together, to exist in one space, would guarantee permanent damage.

Like looking into a mirror and seeing nothing…

…because your reflection's become just as real as you are.

And doing it for Ana, killing that side of her without her consent, would likely have the same effect.

We would be setting her mind at war with itself.

"You'll be down there alone." Eames shook his head. "With no kick back, you'll have to keep your wits about you. I've never questioned your competency in dreams, but if the timer runs out and you're still down there… I'm not letting Ana pull you out and don't think for a moment that I would."

Arthur wanted to laugh. They might have been working together now but Eames was always his own first priority.

"Call Dom if I don't come back in time," Arthur said. "He'll find someone to help."

Dom had changed but Arthur was under no illusion that he would personally help him. He had his children back, he had his freedom back… Arthur was maybe on his short list of priorities but his children would be fatherless if Dom left again.

Arthur couldn't help but think: Ana would have come.

The old Ana, before Matt's death, would have come. She would have figured out a way to reach him. No matter how angry, or hurt she'd been before.

Arthur stared at the easel, feeling something close to hopelessness well up inside of him.

"She must be so fractured by now," he said softly. "Even if I can get her to go along with me, I may only be able to bring back some memories. The rest might be so warped, so changed that they won't even make sense in the context of reality. We should consider the alternative, Eames. Maybe–"

"Think about what you're saying," Eames cut him off. "Leaving her down there would be akin to murder. You'd be killing her."

"I didn't say I wouldn't try," Arthur said sharply. While he didn't agree that integration was the best course, he was committed to helping Ana regain what she could. But still… "I'm asking the question – what if I go down there and find that she's happy? Have you considered that perhaps whatever she's built in Limbo is better for her than reality?"

"Reality is always better. Ana wouldn't have shied away from dealing with reality, not if she were in her right mind."

"But she wasn't, Eames. And she may never be again. If I can't convince her to come back, who are we to say she's wrong? She deserves some peace."

"She deserves to be whole." Eames put his pad aside and stood up, playing with his poker chip as he began to walk back and forth. "And why is this even up for discussion anymore? Ana wants us to go down there, she wants you to find her down there. All we should worry about is making it work."

Arthur stared at him for a moment before shaking his head in disgust and turning away.

If I can't get Ana to come back…

If I don't make it back…

Arthur ended that train of thought before it could finish.

###

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be awake."

Ana looked up at Arthur who was leaning on the doorway to her bedroom. She'd heard voices coming from the studio when she'd woken up but she decided to stay in her room and flip through the rest of Eames' drawings.

"Just for about an hour," Ana said, glancing at the faint sunlight behind the curtains. "I didn't want to bother either of you."

"You wouldn't have," Arthur said. He hesitated and then straightened, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He had a look of uncertainty on his face. "Can I come in?"

Ana nodded. She uncrossed her legs, stretching them out in front of her, and shifted to the side of the bed to make room; there were smudges on the tips of his fingers and she could smell the faintest hint of marker ink as he sat down beside her.

"Eames wasn't really a note taker, was he?" Ana said when it seemed Arthur had relaxed. His shirt was slightly wrinkled and his hair was loose, but otherwise he was perfectly turned out. Looking at him made her feel awkward in comparison, especially considering she hadn't bothered to change or brush her hair since she'd woken up.

Arthur frowned and shrugged. "I don't think so," he said. "No actually, Eames wasn't much of a note taker. Why do you ask?"

Ana passed Arthur the sketch book. "His drawings. They're in bits and pieces. Occasionally he can focus on one thing enough to take up an entire page but most of them are random, drawn at different times. He's a doodler."

To her surprise, Arthur chuckled. "Eames the doodler. He doodles."

They grinned at each for a moment before Ana nodded down at the pad. "He's talented though. He gets the mood right, I think."

Arthur made a noise of assent and flipped through the pages. She knew he wouldn't miss the fact that she featured in many of Eames' drawings. A side profile of her face, her smile, her eyes… Arthur lingered over one particularly intimate sketch of her sitting stretched out on a deck chair, eyes closed in sleep.

"Yeah, he's good," Arthur said hoarsely. He put the pad on the space in front of him. "Did you sleep okay?"

Ana looked at his face and knew he was asking more than his words implied. His eyes were searching, curious and wary.

"Just fine," she said. He didn't seem to believe her.

"Yesterday you said…" Arthur trailed off and then gestured vaguely with his hand. "You don't remember dreaming, do you?"

"No, I don't."

Arthur looked torn but he pushed on. "Is there anything you can remember? Aside from Eames' paintings?"

"No. I'm sorry. And it's not really like I actually remember those paintings but I recognized them. They meant something to me and I knew their names but the meaning behind them... That's out of my reach." They sat in silence for a moment before Ana tapped the drawing with a finger.

"That's not really me, is it?"

Arthur looked at her, bemused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not her," Ana said. The idea had been weighing on her mind heavily since she'd left them in the dining room. "The woman that you and Eames are trying to save. I look like her, I might move or talk like her, but it's not me you're trying to help."

"You're wrong," Arthur said. He sat up but didn't move away. "Just because you can't remember things doesn't mean the core of you has changed."

"But a person is defined by their experiences," Ana said. "If I can't remember my past, I don't have one. So who am I really? If this doesn't work I'll just be taking up space that someone else used to occupy."

And that was the conclusion she'd come to as she studied Eames' work. There was such care and attention to detail in his renderings of her it made her feel hollow inside – jealous even. Because Eames had been in love with someone else.

And so had Arthur.

Someone whose face she wore. And while he seemed perfectly willing to accept her as she was now, Ana was afraid that one day she'd do the wrong thing, say the wrong words in the wrong way, and they would all realize that she didn't belong.

Arthur looked at her as if he could read her mind. He put his hand over hers and squeezed gently. "If it doesn't work, I won't leave you behind just because you can't remember the color of your favorite dress when you were twelve. Those are just details. And you're still you, at the very core. What matters, what shows that you are still Ana Tremont, is how you've carried yourself from the moment you opened your eyes."

"Are we just going to gloss over Peter then?" Ana asked, wryly.

Arthur's mouth quirked in a slight smile. "I should have expected that. When you really wanted to, you could run circles around us. That hasn't changed either."

Ana stayed quiet for a moment and looked down. Arthur's hand was bigger than hers; she liked the feel of it over her hand.

"I know we talk about you as if you are two people and I'm sorry for that. Don't compare yourself to who you think you should be, alright? If you never go back to being that person again, you'll still be Ana."

She mulled over his words then raised her head to look at him.

"I left Peter a note telling him I didn't know who I was," she said, "and I wrote it on the back of the concierge's business card from my hotel. I slipped it into his desk calendar, a week from yesterday. He's a little absentminded; sometimes he forgets to flip the pages over. There were old coffee stains on the last page he had up."

She felt Arthur stiffen and his hand tightened reflexively.

"But I still want to try tomorrow," she said quickly. "Don't call things off. Please, Arthur. I don't want to get you or Eames in trouble but I want to go through with everything."

He let a heavy sigh and nodded.

"I won't call it off," said Arthur. "Thank you. I can get someone to get into his office tomorrow and take it back."

"The school's locked up tight. You must have seen the cameras."

"Oh, I think I can find my way around those," he said. The corners of his mouth tilted up again and there was a mischievous look in his eyes. Ana raised an eyebrow and turned his hand over so that his palm was turned toward her.

"You're the note taker," Ana said, rubbing her thumb over his calluses. "But you're better with computers."

"I like machines," Arthur said and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"So the PASIV is yours." It was a statement rather than a question. "You take it care of it. Did you build it or…"

"I took it," Arthur said frankly. "I walked away with it when I left the military. Figured it was adequate compensation after exemplary service. Of course, they didn't think so and it's why I don't like going back to the states if I can help it."

"I bet," Ana said. She sat up and looked into his face, feeling suddenly nervous. "Did you know about me and Eames? That we were together?"

The light seemed to fade from Arthur's eyes and he nodded. "I'd heard. After you stopped working with me and started running point for him. It wasn't a surprise. Eames had always been very clear about he wanted. He saw me as an obstacle."

Ana blushed and looked away.

"But we didn't last," she said. Eames hadn't been a bad choice. Perhaps he may have been the right choice for her but the pull she felt towards Arthur was unmistakable. "Did you ever wonder what would have happened if you had… I mean, if we…"

"All the time," Arthur said. His voice was a near whisper but the regret was unmistakable.

Ana wondered how he'd felt back then, knowing that she was with Eames and wanting things to be different. He probably continued on stoically, not letting an iota of how he felt show on the outside.

She hoped that she'd been able to give Eames what he wanted. Ana hoped she hadn't looked at Eames and wished he were someone else. It simply wasn't fair to him, but Arthur was the first face she'd seen when she woke up and she was glad for it.

Ana turned back to him, determined. "If we don't succeed tomorrow I want you to know that I don't blame you one bit. And I'd like to get to know you again. It might not be the same as before, but I want to be your friend again, if it's possible."

Arthur's face was solemn. "It's more than possible," he said. "And if it does work, if you do get everything back, I'll understand if you decide you don't want that anymore."

"What are you so afraid of?" Ana asked, feeling frustrated. "As far as I can tell, you've tried everything in your power to keep me safe. You can't control the world or the people in it, Arthur. Mistakes are inevitable but you–"

"I was the reason Matt died," he said. "It was my fault."

Ana froze. She stared at him, unsure of how to react.

"He died because of me."

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