I fucking knew this would come up sooner or later. I mean, why are most people in therapy? Because shit scares them. Well that and horrific trauma, but they go hand in hand, right? So yeah. Most terrifying moment of my life was Halloween. Funny, isn't it? I mean, it's a night for terror, but none of us expected it to go down like that.

The people I work with, who I would lay down my life for - except Dom. I did it for the job and for Arthur and shit, but not for him. For his kids though, yeah - but most of them I would, and we find ourselves with an invitation to come to this mansion. Now, I guess if I remembered more of those cartoons about the dog from my childhood, I might have realized how crazy it was to take an invite to a place and when you show up find your friends there and you don't turn and beat it right then and there. We didn't and that's totally on us. This place turns out to have a reputation though, and if you know where to look, you can find all kind of things about it. Like the history of the families there, when it was built, who all has lived there. Oh, and one more thing.

That the place is motherfucking haunted up one side and down the bloody other!

A woman and her lover went off the deep, killed a bunch of people then and keep killing people now. Why us? Damned if I know but they pulled us in. Next thing we know we're trapped and the place is out to kill us. I'm not going to put it down into detail. Maybe words don't have that kind of power, but after what we've been through and walked away from?

I'm not putting it down in writing and giving it an opening. I've learned too much in the last couple of years to take that chance. You learn that you have to be careful with what you say and do. You have to work hard to keep those doors closed, and laying it all out here is stupid. For me and for you. So let's just leave it at the fact that my entire life changed that night. I can't risk my life I had, and Arthur and I are always on the go. Not just from the house, but because it still all haunts us.

That's what I mean about opening doors. Rose Red opened up a door in our lives, and we have not found a way to shut it. Not yet.

Everything about my life is about knowing secrets and keeping them. Which paintings are real and which ones aren't. Who asked for what documentation. Which celebrities came to visit, and what politicians paid more money than was sane to ensure that either their secrets are kept, or that they had other peoples secrets without them knowing how.

So if I can't keep a secret, then I am failing. Majorly.

That said, I know WHEN to keep secrets, and from whom. Nothing going on in my life NOW is kept from Arthur. With what we're dealing with, with the supernatural and the madness that comes with it, keeping secrets on this level endangers us both. There's things from before that he doesn't know. Things that I'm sure as hell never going to tell him, even if he asks after me mentioning it like this. Those secrets don't matter, but what I know, what I've done? Course I know how to keep a secret.

Now, that said? There's a lot, a fucking lot, of secrets I've "collected" that I never kept. It's the business we do. You're there, luring answers out of people, and eventually someone is going to pay you pretty good money for those secrets. That's the difference

Some secrets aren't secrets at all. They're business. Business is just that. It's all about the profit, the turn over. It's about doing something that others said you can't do, and then proving to them that you can. Those aren't secrets that you keep, and they don't count.

Semantics, right? I think I'm okay with that. Just like I'm okay with what I've done with the secrets in my life. Wanna know where some of my secrets lie?

48.8606° N, 2.3376° E 40.7794° N, 73.9632° W 41.9065° N, 12.4536° E

What words do I need to hear...

I just need to be told I'm loved and wanted.

No, but seriously I wrote that with a straight face. Well, not really. Not at all. What words do I need to hear? What kind of question is that? I'm not a romance kind of person, and I'm not looking for forgiveness or acceptance from anyone. Arthur and I will continue on and do what we need to do and we aren't afraid to get our hands dirty. Not to mention we're not afraid of much because we know what's out there now. We know how bad it can be. We also know that no matter what happens, we're going to ensure that no one else goes through what we went through in that house.

Wait, there you go. What words do I need to hear?

That Rose Fucking Red is never coming back. That burning it down and cursing those bitches in the house is enough. That we aren't going to go into a dream sometime - which we can't fucking do right now because of Rose Red and the supernatural shit - and find ourselves staring at that house again. That's what I need to hear. I need to hear that no matter what other supernatural things we have to face? That none of them will be Rose Red.

Also that Mal is alive. Tell me that she knew that Dom was out of his mind and that she's somewhere, out there, alive. Tell me that and mean it.

Talk about a day you find enjoyable?

Right this sounds like some kind of dating shit. My likes are long walks on the beach, mai tais in the casino, and obnoxiously tacky prints paired to drive a certain pointman fucking bonkers. What is an enjoyable day? I mean, I enjoyed the getting out of my parent's house. I really enjoyed my first date with CeCe Carpenter in year 10 that ended up with the police picking us up and her old man threatening to have me killed. I would call every time I went into a museum and saw one of my replacements hanging there without anyone fucking noticing enjoyable as all hell. Guessing this is nothing you're looking for though. I mean, otherwise your lives would be really boring reading through all of this.

Let's go with day that most changed my life and fixed everything that had gone wrong with the last ten years.

I started out forging documents. I had a flair for it, and it was easy for me to reproduce signatures, get font sizes just right and even replicate ink tones to perfection. I was good at it, but I got bored easily. Which is what led me to works of art. Sculpture I was shite at, but paintings? Those I had a knack for. Started out for kicks, but then I started making bank on helping to switch out my works for the true masterpieces and that put all my skills together and I was loving it. I was good at it, the thrills were great, and if I did get caught, I was good at talking my way out of it.

It was right after the latter had happened that I met Mal. I had just been nicked for trading out a Jasper John in a private collection. I never knew why anyone wanted the crap piece, but there's no accounting for taste, or realizing that a herd of damn fluffy mutts were actually attack trained. So I'm waiting to see if I'm going to do time and in walks Mal. She's whispering with a detective and next thing I know, they're letting me go.

I don't even remember the next hour, but then I'm at some cafe, sitting at an outside table with Mal and this squinty eye bastard I end up learning is her husband, Dominick. Mal and Dom. They were part of some new thing that involved using dreams and people and getting what you wanted through heists that had jackshit to do with alarms and security and everything to do with the mind and everything we dreamt about.

Mal looked beautiful and sly. Dominick earnest and intense. I still remember what he said to me that day.

"What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it's almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere.."

I learned later he said it to a lot of people. Myself. Arthur. Yusuf. It's how he drew us in, got us on board with this whole game of cat and mouse thievery of the mind. It's not what brought me on board though. It was that they promised. Mal said it, leaning in close, all French and beautiful and sexy. I feel in love with her that day, but I don't think there's a person that knew her that didn't.

"Why limit yourself to paint and pen, when you can literally reforge your entire body, bits of your soul even, with every job?"

That moment would be the most enjoyable day because it started everything else.

It was meant to be a weekend back together, just to get to see one another again. Of course, Eames couldn't let it just be that.

The villa was a sprawling, beautiful place of stone and tile and large ramadas to soak up the rays. There was a pool overlooking the ocean, and a hot tub and all the amenities that they might want.

He'd stocked the fridge and the wine cellar, brought back in his staff that were there only when he needed them but paid to be on the ready, and then he had dressed almost formally, with a sweater vest and all to look grown up and play games with Arthur.

Then he had gone to the airport to wait.

Australia seemed to go on forever with surveillance and research and ensuring that he not only had every needed mannerism down to a tee but that Eames had made enough notes that if Arthur had any questions, he could answer them. He had everything they needed and he was ready to go home. Ready to get back to a job that excited him as much as he feared just where it was going. Ready to get back to a pointman who was really turning his world upside down, and he was realizing how much he loved it.

Waiting until he was on his last layover and he was sure that the flights would be on time, he sent Arthur a message just before boarding his flight.

1016 degaulle #2316 timothy

Eames had shipped ahead everything else he needed, not that it had been much, so as he came down the walk to the terminal, all he had was a single rolling carry on. Dressed in fawn colored slacks and a dark burgundy coat over a paisley shirt, he looked like a tourist with a heavy shadow of hair growth along his jaws and a bright light in his eyes as he looked around for the man that should be waiting for him.

Eames had roused when Arthur started moving, though he wasn't even close to ready to get out of bed. The beauty of things was, it wasn't as if he could be seen going in at the same time as the point man, so he merely dragged the blanket half over his head and pretended to sleep.

He lay there, listening to Arthur move around the room, crawling out long enough to kiss him and mumble about seeing him later in the day.

Except Eames never came in. No call. Just a text saying all was good, explain later. He said nothing though when he came in the day after, two days worth of stubble and looking downright worn and weary as he dropped down at his desk.

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