Archive of Our Own ^beta

For all the ways he’s changed, there are some things that remain exactly the same. Mac wasn’t quite sure where the thought had come from as he watched Eames’ face. The man was tense, eyes laser focused on the information the kid was relaying. It had been ten years since they had all left her Majesty’s Special Air Service behind, but he remembered that look as if it had been yesterday.  

“So let me see if I understood you correctly,” Eames said, accent fluctuating between the sharp, crisp Queen’s English of his upbringing and the blander Estuary accent he’d been using to blend into the bleak little part of London where they’d established their base in this warehouse. “You want to break into the mind of one of the most notorious members of the dreamsharing community because you think that he stole information from someone high up in the government.” Eames fixed his eyes on Mac. “We steal information from government agents all the time. What makes this one different?”

Mac swallowed. For all his bluster, the Captain Eames he remembered, the one he’d once followed into hell and back, was still in there. He was in those eyes which had fixed Mac with a hard stare, and he was in the hint of command in that voice. It reminded him that they were essentially asking Eames to betray a man he had a history of a decade with. You didn’t give up a relationship like that easily, not even if you were a conman, forger, and general scoundrel like [First and middle name redacted] Eames.

Thing was, a conman wasn’t all he was. His former Captain had left the SAS and the British version of the dreamsharing project to work what was possibly one of the longest deep cover assignments Her Majesty’s Secret Service had ever concocted: keep track of the dreamsharing community and take out any threats to Queen and Country before they could become a problem. He’d been the perfect candidate too. Grown up in the kind of aristocratic circles that had too much money and too little to do, he’d turned his eyes not towards leisure but towards serving his country. And he’s been good at it, possibly one of the best. Put through some of the hardest military training in the world, Eames had come out swinging, reputation of a stubborn, ruthless bastard, and he’d risen through the ranks rapidly. His upbringing meant that he’d easily been able to slide into the kind of circles he needed in order to establish himself as a forger, and for all his crimes, there were lines he still wouldn’t cross. Granted, by now Eames was more of a consultant to whose general crimes his colleagues turned a blind eye and he’d likely never really return to the heart of the service, but there was still that streak of hidden refusal to hurt people when it mattered. Mac wouldn’t call it patriotism, because Eames’ loyalty had always been to people, not symbols, but he would never simply sit by when countless British agents were in danger of having their covers blown.

Not even when the man responsible was the man known to the dreamshare community only by the name “Arthur.”

“We’re pretty sure that he got his hands on a list with the active deep cover agents in some very unstable parts of Southeast Asia. The Chamberlin extraction…”

“That job was about bank accounts,” Eames interrupted.

Mac shook his head. “There were never any bank accounts. We think the client had ties to the Russian government.”

Eames still didn’t give in. “Then I get the list from Arthur.”

“It was already offered on the black market. Last price twenty million US Dollars. The auction is still ongoing.”

“That still doesn’t mean he wants to actually sell it. Arthur likes to plan, and he likes to have leverage.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mac said not without sympathy. “The longer the list is out there, the greater the risk someone is going to come after him. And at some point even your Arthur will be outmatched.”

Eames closed his eyes, exhaustion visible in his face. It had to be bad if he allowed them to see it.

“Fine, but I will acquire the target. And we don’t do this without a very thorough plan.”

Mac acquiesced, nodding. “Eames,” he stopped the other man who’d already turned to leave. “You know I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Eames nodded and smiled. It was the saddest smile Mac had ever seen on his face. “I know. That’s the problem.”

---

They set up a permanent base in their little hideaway. Eames had already contacted Arthur with an offer about a possible job, nothing unusual in their relationship. This was why they needed him. The point man was as close to legend as they got in the fairly incestuous dreamsharing community, Mac doubted that even Eames knew where the man had come from, and he’d earned that reputation by being very, very good and very, very ruthless. In order to get to him they had to hit him with something he wouldn’t expect. Like the betrayal of one of his longest-running contacts.

Mac took a moment to mourn a relationship that, for all appearances, had meant something to Eames.

“I don’t like him,” Mike Taylor said, appearing at his right. He looked like he wanted to anywhere but in their dingy space. His red hair was in its perpetual bedhead. Ten years since he’d followed Mac from the SAS into private security and he still looked like he didn’t even own a hair brush.

Mac sighed. He knew exactly who Mike was talking about. They looked towards their MI6 contact who seemed to be deeply into a lively discussion slash argument with their former Captain.

“You don’t have to like him. He’ll be gone as soon as Arthur tells us about the potential buyers.”

Mike narrowed his eyes, still fixed on Eames and the man who’d only introduced himself as Agent Green. “I don’t like that either.”

“You don’t have to. Ignore Green. He’s a bureaucrat. He’ll be gone soon enough.”

Mike nodded, thoughtfully. “You think the kid is up for it?” he asked while glancing at their newest recruit who was busy at his laptop.

It was a fair question. Mac had poached the “kid” from the SRR very recently and he was very, very green. He was also the best technician he had in his company and as of a few days ago also familiar with the technology of the PASIV, so he would have to be up to it.

“We’ll see.” Mac answered. “For now we keep an eye on him.”

Eames and Green seemed to be finished with their argument. Green left the room a little more swiftly than he’d been upon entry and Eames all but marched over to them.

“Charming fellow,” he said wryly, nodding at Taylor in greeting. “You have quite the setup here Mac. Thought you’d left dreamsharing behind when we got out.”

There was an implicit question in that statement and Mac, falling back in to old and familiar patterns, found himself answering before he’d even thought about it.

“You know how it is. Once Queen and country come knocking…” he trailed off because he suspected that Eames did in fact exactly know how it was.

“Arthur is on his way. He’ll be here tomorrow evening. There’s a little café in Soho that he really likes so that’s where we’ll set up. You and Taylor here can play the other patrons.”

“Won’t he notice us?” Mike asked, doubt in his voice. "I mean, even I have heard how paranoid he is and I’m dreamsharing-adjacent at best.”

Eames grimaced. “Normally, he’d make you in an instant. But he’ll be with me and I know how to distract him long enough until we get whatever drug you have ready into him.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Eames clearly hadn’t slept enough since they’d read him in on their operation.

Mac tried not to feel bad. It would hopefully all be over soon.

___

The café was cosy, but not so cosy as to become suspicious, at least that’s what Mac hoped. Arthur and Eames had arrived twenty minutes ago, situating themselves at the table with the best sight lines. Just as Mac had expected.

What he hadn’t expected was the way the two men interacted with each other. He was sitting with Mike at the window front and could just see their target from the corner of his eye. They had audio, thanks to the bug Eames was wearing.

Arthur hadn’t noticed and that indicated a possibly even closer relationship between him and Eames than Mac had thought. A man like Arthur wouldn’t be taken in like that unless he trusted someone implicitly.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut. They would go in, Eames would do his thing, and then they’d be on their way with no one the wiser. And if they had to destroy the relationship of the two men at the table next to him in the process, so be it.

He’d done worse for less important reasons.

The two men were almost too comfortable with each other, at least for the kind of long-standing colleagues Mac had assumed they were. They were almost…bantering with each other. There was none of the acerbic and sometimes mean-spirited wit Eames used with most of his acquaintances. 

“If I die of a heart attack before I turn forty, I’m going to haunt you,” Arthur said drily as the almost obscenely rich chocolate dessert Eames had ordered arrived at their table.

“You won’t die just because you indulge this once, darling. It’s the industrial strength coffee you drink during jobs that will do the deed.”

Mac could see Arthur raising a hand from the corner of his eyes as if to stop Eames from talking while he enjoyed his cake. He took a careful bite and closed his eyes.

Mike tensed in front of him. Mac shook his head surreptitiously. They weren’t entirely clear yet.

“So, what’s so important you had to use my weakness for cocoa-based desserts to soften me up?” Arthur asked. He took a second bite, enjoyment still clear on his face.

Eames didn’t answer. There was something complicated on his face. He looked sad, and if Mac didn’t know better he’d say there was a deep-seated longing there that spoke of years of connection.

Shit.

Arthur had clearly caught on, too. He let the spoon drop to the ground, the metallic sound almost deafening in the café. One hand twitched and if the drug in the cake hadn’t been doing its intended work, Mac was sure Arthur would have already drawn the gun hidden under his well-tailored clothes.

“Eames, why…” the point man tipped forward and Eames caught him almost gently, one hand lingering on Arthur’s neck before their people moved in and took their captive away.

Eames looked at Mac then, silent and almost accusing. Mac didn’t much care. He'd take that look if it meant he’d never have to see the expression of anguished longing again that had flashed over Eames face the moment Arthur had realised who’d betrayed him.

---
“You’re really going into Arthur’s dream?” the kid asked, voice almost trembling.

Green rolled his eyes while he set up the PASIV in the middle of the room.

“That’s why we have Mister Eames here,” he replied.

“Indeed,” Eames said from where he was carefully inserting a needle into Arthur’s arm. His hands were still gentle, fingers lingering on the silken cloth of the rolled up shirt their target was wearing, before he got up and turned toward Green with an almost sardonic smile on his face.

“You see, our little community is incredibly insular at the end of the day. Arthur would obliterate nearly everyone instantly who tried to break into his subconscious because he’d recognise every extractor who is currently active.”

Eames walked over to his own chair and sat down. “So we’re using that by using me. The only person in the dreamshare community that Arthur…”

“Trusts,” the kid finished after Eames trailed off. There was an almost imperceptible flinch on his face that you would have only noticed if you’d known him for a very long time.

Mac had known him for a very long time indeed.

“Remember that you let Eames do the work. We’re just there to observe. One wrong move and Arthur’s subconscious is going to come at us in full force,” Green reminded them for what felt like the hundredth time.

Mac resisted the urge to scowl. He was a professional and could deal with condescending government agents. Also, Eames had drilled them intensely during the last two weeks and he knew what to do and, more importantly, he knew what not to do.

He leaned back and let the kid who would monitor them alongside Mike insert the needle. The familiar drowsiness of Somnacin flooding his veins took over. One more breath and he knew no….

---

Arthur’s dream was surprisingly…bland. Mac wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He blinked at the bright sun, a stark contrast to the perpetually rainy London in November which they’d left behind in the waking world. Of course, he remembered Eames telling them that Arthur was an extremely stable dreamer which was the reason they often used him to train newbies, but this was a bit more stable than he’d been expecting. They were smack dab in the middle of a car park, surrounded by grey residential buildings as far as their eyes could see. It reminded him of the old soviet apartment houses that still littered parts of Eastern Europe today. Even the sky was grey which seemed weird considering the brightness of the sun.

“Where the bloody hell are they?” Green asked next to him. The man seemed tense, understandable given their situation, but Mac had hoped he’d be a bit more seasoned at dreaming.

“Best guess? Somewhere in that building,” Mac answered nodding at the utilitarian building in front of them. There was really only one thing distinguishing it from the rest. One of the windows on the third floor was brightly lit.

There was something not quite right about it but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly made him uneasy about the situation so he decided to go ahead anyways. It wasn’t like they had much of a choice either way.

Green seemed to agree with his assessment because he followed him into the building. The came to a halt in what could only generously be called a foyer.

“How are we supposed to observe them if we’re the only people here.”

Mac was currently asking himself the same question. He took a breath, preparing to at least attempt to find an answer, when a sudden noise from the hallway to their right caught their attention. Green flinched before drawing the gun he’d clearly dreamed up at that moment. Mac drew his own gun, calmer than the twitchy government agent because he was once again used to dreaming himself into a situation already armed. They made their way forward into the half-lit space carefully. It occurred to him that it should be a lot brighter inside, even in a dreary soviet leftover building like this, though a glance at the window told him that the sun had apparently set while they’d been standing in the foyer.

Lovely. This felt very much like the beginning one of those terrible horror movies his wife liked to watch and only the knowledge that he was in a dream kept him going forward.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly into nothing. There were doors on both sides, numbered like they’d be in a hotel, but Mac would rather dance on Trafalgar Square naked than open one of those doors. Green clearly had no such compunctions. He stopped next to the door with the number 13 – and weren’t those supposed to be non-existent in hotels – motioning towards Mac to move into positions next to the door. Green pressed down the handle carefully and stepped into the room gun first…

“Lovely you made it chaps. Not sure how much longer I could have kept him under.” Eames knelt on the floor next to a single cot where Arthur was seemingly sleeping peacefully. The rest of the room was empty. Drab grey wallpaper was peeling from the walls. There was a large stain in one corner and in front of that sat a PASIV.

“I thought we’d decided two layers was too risky?” Green asked, holstering his gun.

Mac lowered his weapon but he didn’t put it back in its holster. There was still something about the situation that was making him extremely uneasy and he refused to be caught unprepared.

“No, you decided it was too risky,” Eames said, fixing Green with a glare. “I told you that anything short of two layers would never fool someone as experienced as dear Arthur here. Hence why we’re not currently enjoying a cappuccino in Arthur’s favourite Parisian café.” He grimaced. “Instead were stuck in this little post-soviet purgatory. Which I recognize by the way. It’s Arthur’s first layer of security. If we don’t leave soon, we will be overrun by his projections and you don’t want to experience the kind of security a man like Arthur can dream up.”

“Goddammit,” Green rubbed a hand over his face. “We can’t go deeper.”

“Why not?” Mac asked incredulously. “Two layers are all but standard for difficult extractions now. The Somnacin we’re using certainly is stable enough.”

Green sighed heavily. “Fine. But he’s not sedated. So if this goes wrong, it’s on you.” He moved forward, but Eames stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Let Mac here do the honours. I need to be the first going down and I’m sure you want to be there to observe, too.”

Green nodded, so Mac found himself sending both of them down with Arthur while he stayed in the drab little room to monitor them.

He’d given them only minutes which would translate into almost a week at the second level. The time seemed to stretch out in front of him. He looked at the peacefully sleeping Arthur, still in a sharp suit even in his dreams, and marvelled at how young he looked while asleep. There were a few years between him and Eames but not too many, and right now, he looked at least half a decade younger than his actual age.

Not that Mac knew his actual age, but he’d always been good a guessing people’s ages. He tried to ignore the still uneasy feeling the whole situation gave him, but another glance at Arthur brought his doubts back to the surface. Their profile on Arthur painted him as ruthless, an opportunist only loyal to a few select people. He was a pivotal cog in the dreamsharing machine with contacts and connections that regularly made the analysts at MI6 green with envy. An information broker who held little loyalty to any country. It had really only been a matter of time until he ran afoul of a government. His luck probably that it was a government that would put him into prison after the extraction instead of eliminating him outright.

Though Mac doubted that the man would count himself lucky afterwards.

If a situation called for it, Arthur also didn’t hesitate to get his hands dirty. There were rumours about what he’d done to the people who’d captured Eames a few years ago and held him for almost a week.

If even half of those rumours were true…

And therein lays the problem, he thought not without sympathy for the man. His connection to Eames remained frighteningly elusive. Mac had thought he knew the nature of their relationship, but the last few days had left him doubting his own conclusions. He wasn’t really worried what the whole affair would do to the man sleeping in front of him. The man who was either waiting to sell a list endangering British agents or playing a game so convoluted and risky that the difference hardly mattered at all.

No, Mac wasn’t worried about him. Eames however…  

Eames he was worried about.

---

He’d moved closer to the bed while musing about the two men’s relationship and so he was in a perfect position for Arthur to grab his gun when he suddenly jolted awake, eyes bright and alert.”

“Stop him!” Green shouted from somewhere behind him, but before he could, Arthur had already put a bullet between his eyes and he almost fell off his chair in the real world in the haste to get to his gun.

They found themselves in a classic stand-off. All men awake and guns trained on each other. Well, almost all guns trained on Arthur, except for Arthur who was aiming right at Green.

The kid was staring at them wide-eyed and Mac would bet his favourite combat knife that Arthur had managed to steal his gun before he’d even noticed that the point man was awake.

“What the hell is going on here?” Arthur demanded. The gun in his hand remained surprisingly steady and Mac was once again reminded of the reputation the man had built.

“Darling,” Eames started and the pet name seemed almost comical in contrast with the gun he’d levelled at Arthur.

“I was asking him,” Arthur said, glaring at Green. “I’ll come to you later.” He shook his head as if trying to dispel the image of Eames holding him at gunpoint. “I’ll admit you did an excellent job. Of all the people I would have expected to betray me…”

Eames flinched, the reaction clearly visibly to all who looked, and whatever happened at the second level must have rattled him if he couldn’t contain that emotion.

Green straightened himself, although the gun in his hand was almost shaking. “A few weeks ago you extracted a list from Andrew Chamberlin’s head. There were names on it. We need to know who you’re planning on selling that list to.”

His voice mostly remained steady throughout his little speech and Mac had to hand it to him. That couldn’t be easy given their situation.

“How do you even know I was on that job?” Arthur asked, eyes narrowed. “I stepped in at the last minute because Yoon was down with the flu. Most of the research was done by her.”

“I have my sources,” Green said, eyeing Eames.

Arthur’s grip on the gun tightened.

“So Eames has been feeding you information for a bit longer than just this job.”

The man in question flinched again. Behind Arthur Mike stepped closer, but Mac warned him off with a look. The risk was far too great. Maybe Eames could still defuse the situation.

“Just tell us which of the lovely Chinese men in your bidding war you’re going to sell the list to and we can all go home, Darling.”

Maybe not.

“Singaporean,” Green said, confused.

Eames frowned. “I’m sorry?”

Green rolled his eyes. “The highest bidders were from Singapore, not China, not that it really matters.”

“Ah, but it does matter,” Arthur said. “Doesn’t it, Mister Eames?”

“Indeed it does,” Eames answered and before anyone could react he had already trained his gun on Green instead of Arthur. “That wasn’t in the briefing. There are some people in Whitehall who would really like to have a word with you.”

“I’m sorry?” Green asked, demanded really. “MacGregor, it appears that Eames has decided to switch sides on us at the last minute.”

It was a poor attempt at diversion, especially know that Mac was slowly coming to realise how they had clearly been had by two of the best, if not the best dreamers in the community. Whatever happened on the second level, this was a double cross that would likely go down in dreamsharing history.

Extract from Arthur. Yeah, right.

He looked at Eames’ face and then at Arthur’s and trained his gun on Green as well. There really wasn’t ay shame in having been taken in by these two. Mac knew when he was outmatched. His men followed suit. Loyalty really was a beautiful thing.

Eames grinned at him and then softened to a sappy smile when he looked at Arthur. How Mac ever thought these two were only professional acquaintances he had not idea. That was clearly the face of a man in love.

After everything was said and done and MI6 had arrived to take the actual target of their operation into custody, Mac found himself privileged to witness one last interaction between the forger and his point man before they packed up their equipment.

They stood close to each other, almost but not quite touching. Eames raised a hand but hesitated. “You seem to have a particularly sadistic streak when it comes to drawing out your schemes to give me a heart attack, pet. The next time we’re not letting the traitorous government agent into either our heads, agreed?”

Mac had almost expected a witty repartee, but Arthur stepped closer to Eames instead and right into the embrace of his arms.

“I’m sorry.” The words were muffled in the fabric of the ugly but surprisingly expensive suit.

Eames tightened his arms around Arthur and buried his nose in his hair. “I know, darling. I love you anyway.”