Her knee continued to bounce anxiously as his hand slipped over it. Eames smirked as he caught her annoyed look out of the corner of his eye, but didn't comment on it. Neither did she. Instead, she placed her pale hand over his tan one, and tucked her foot discreetly over the other to stop her fidgeting. Setting her jaw, the redhead nudged him playfully with her elbow. He nudged her back; both kept their eyes forward as a pair of subtle smirks crossed their lips in sync. With as much discretion as she could master, she crossed her legs, letting her foot come to rest between his thighs.

He cocked a surprised glance at her, enjoying their little game. The woman trailed her nails over his hand and up his wrist. She noted her husband watching them from across the crowded room and with a flush she pulled away from Eames. He frowned at her and met the man' glare head on.

"I hate him." Keeping his blue eyes on the older man's stiff form, he took her hand back. "You should've run off with me when you had the chance, Naddie."

The redhead chuckled quietly. "We were kids. We wouldn't have gotten out the front gates, da'ling."

Her accent had been suppressed over the years, much to his disappointment, but Eames could still pick up the faint hint of Moscow in her voice. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he broke his rival's gaze to look at her. His Nadia. She'd always been his- at least in his dreams. In their dreams. But the past fifteen years had changed them. He wanted different things now. He wanted someone to wake up with; the only thing she couldn't be.

As for Nadia, she wanted the same thing she always did. Freedom. She'd experienced a taste of it when they were young and had been lusting after it ever since. But with her lifestyle…it just wasn't viable. It wasn't even safe. No safety was her father's intention when she arranged her marriage all those years ago. To make everything simple and clean for her; an honorable intent after the life of danger and uncertainty he had given her as a child. Iosif Roerich had liked her lover when he was a boy, said he was reminded of himself at that age, which was exactly why he couldn't approval of their relationship. So after his job was finished, he disappeared. Nadia was understanding, if not a little hurt, by his decision, but to his surprise she never questioned it.

"We could've tried." Eames sighed, shaking his head. "We could've-"

"Well." The couple looked up at the man. His dark green eyes set on the Brit with a frown, before turning to the woman. "Nadia, who's your friend?"

She stood with a delicate blush. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the front of her dress before placing a hand on her lover's shoulder. He hadn't bothered to stand for the man. "Peter, this is Eames." They glared at each other a moment before the woman went on, "He's a friend of my father's."

"Ah." The American man let out a sigh of understanding as his gaze shifted from hostile to smug, "I see."

Eames bared his teeth at the man, before standing. He raked his eyes up and down Peter form. He was too old for her. She wasn't even thirty yet, he was nearing his late fifties, if Eames had to guess. It showed too. The Brit smirked at him. He turned to Nadia. "Is he a friend of your father's as well?"

Peter's smile dropped. "I'm her husband."

"Ah, yes," Eames nodded, his gaze narrowing slightly, "I remember now…" He pointed at him in mock recognition. "You were the man who whisked our little Naddie away…to Florida, right?"

"Miami, yes." The man looked skeptical now. As did his wife who was eying Eames with a guarded look of concern. He met her gaze with a wink. Nadia rolled her eyes with a blush. The exchange didn't go unnoticed between Peter and he was quick to address it. "I suppose you're the man whose been monopolizing my wife's time. Seems like she out every night."

"I am."

"Eames." The redhead pleaded, "Don't."

"What?" The younger man scoffed, "I'm not ashamed of it." His heated gaze met Peter's cool one, "I'm in love with her."

"I don't care." The elderly man shrugged, sipping his champagne. Eames brows rose, but Peter didn't let him get a word in as he went on. "You're free to do and feel as you please," He shot his wife a look of disapproval, "But you could at least have the respect to do it discretely."

Her head bowed in shame. "I-"

"Don't," Peter gently took her by the elbow and steered her away from the man who was still staring aghast at them. "You've been nothing if not…understanding of my lifestyle. Of my own discrepancies." He put his hand on her lower back, earning a growl from the Brit behind them. "I suppose I can over look this one. Assuming of course, it is coming to an end."

"I…" Nadia opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find her voice. Her dark eyes searched her husband's for some kind of lenience, but found none. Peter wasn't the only one waiting for a response. She knew Eames was listening to them, hanging off their every word.

Sensing this, Peter spoke in a hushed tone. His lips brushed her ear, and she shuddered uncomfortably. They were rarely this close. "What can he give you? Really? He's a criminal you know…a wanted man." He pushed some of her red hair back from her shoulder, "He can't give you a home. Can't offer you a family. He can't even offer you stability."

"Maybe I don't want stability," Nadia snapped quietly, looking up at him with watering eyes, "Maybe I just want some goddamn freedom."

"He can't give you that," His gaze softened at her, "You know he can't. Not real freedom. You'd be on the run constantly. What kind of life is that?"

The woman flushed with regret and she shook her head at him. "I just…"

"He's right." Eames cleared his throat as they turned to look at him. But he didn't look up from his shoes. It was disturbing how much sense the man was making. He hated it. He hated the fact that he was absolutely right even more. "I can't give you those things, Naddie." He lifted his head to meet her mournful glare. "I'm sorry I filled your head with all this foolishness."

He placed a sweet kiss on the corner of her mouth and left them in the crowded ballroom without looking back. He couldn't bring himself to. Arthur shot him a curious look as the forger past by him without so much as a second glance or snide comment before following him out with a concerned frown. The man hadn't bothered to pick up his coat from the check, and the cool April air hit his face hard. But he ignored it, instead he gestured over his shoulder. "What was that about?"

"It's over. He's won."

The younger man blinked with surprise, "But you and Nadia-"

He spun around to face Arthur, who didn't have time to stop and bumped into his chest. His dark brown eyes widened at the tears that shone in his…acquaintance's eyes, and went to address them. But Eames' cold tone cut him off before he had the chance. "It's done." He told him, "It's over. I can't be what she needs."

"She loves you." Arthur said pointlessly. They both knew that. Everyone knew that. Except, of course, maybe Nadia herself. He watched as the Brit began to try and flag down a cab. "What happened to not going down without a fight?"

"In a dream maybe." His full lips pursed. "But not in the real world. What good would it do? She'd get divorced, her parents would stop talking to her, she'd resent me because I can't give her everything she needs." His blue eyes met his friend's as a taxi pulled up. "Why bother?"

Arthur shook his head with a scoff. "So, what? You're just giving up?"

Waking up, Eames corrected subconsciously, "I'm accepting the way things are. We can't all have our Ariadnes."

He got in the cab, leaving the young man on the curb. Meanwhile, the Russian woman was watching from a window. Her husband looked over her shoulder before placing a hand on it empathetically. She shrugged it off. "I've loved that man since I was seventeen years old."

"He loves you as well." He told her quietly. "That's why he made it easy for you to make the right choice."

Her pale features sharpened at him. "I didn't want him to."

"I know."

Nadia sighed, rubbing her temple with a shaky hand. "I'm going home."

"I'll-"

"Alone." She told him. Her dark gaze ran across the room to where a man, perhaps forty five was watching them with an ill-disguised malice. "I believe a lover of your own is waiting in the wings, hm?"

Peter frowned at her. "Don't be like that."

"Don't treat me like an idiot." The redhead snapped. "How is this fair? You and Wendall-"

He grabbed her arm and quickly steered her out of the room and into a coat closet. "We agreed never to discuss this in public! My private life-"

"Includes me! If you want to use me, that's fine, but don't take away-"

"I'm not taking anything away from you!" his green eyes flashed in the dim light, "He left!"

Her cheeks flushed. "I wanted to go with him."

"Why?"

"Because I love him."

Peter rolled his eyes like he was addressing a child. "You keep saying that like it means something."

"It does to me. How would you feel if Wendall left because of me? If he decided he didn't want to be kept away in the dark like a shameful secret?" A few tears slipped down her cheeks and with a sigh he offered her his handkerchief. "I want a divorce."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do." She wiped her face. "I don't want anything else from you. I'm not interested in the money or the house, just…" Nadia met his gaze with a frown. "I just…"

"Do me a favor," Peter took his shoulders in his hands, a paternal glaze in his eyes. "Go home. Sleep on it. If in the morning, you're still intent on leaving me a disgraced man…" He watched her wince, "We'll discuss it then."

Reluctantly, Nadia nodded. "Fine."

"Good." He kissed her forehead and patted her arm. Adjusting his tie, he told her, "I'll see you in the morning."

The door closed behind him, leaving her in the dim, cramped room. She raked her hands roughly through her hair before storming out of the room and building. Nadia returned to her and Peter's empty estate in little under an hour.

The next morning she was sitting across from her husband at the breakfast table, Wendall looking between them curiously. He'd never particularly minded the child posing as his lover's wife, but he found it odd the usually bubbly(at least in the past several months) woman was so stern faced and quiet. The same could be said about Peter who wouldn't so much as glance in her direction. Wendall cleared his throat. "So."

"I want a divorce."

Peter didn't look up. "No, you don't."

"I've already called my lawyer." Nadia told him with a frown. "He should be here in under an hour."

Wendall beamed, "Really?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off her husband, who was still looking intently at the newspaper in front of him. "I'll be gone after that."

Peter sniffed, shaking his head. "I won't grant you a divorce." His lover's smile fell.

Nadia shrugged, "I'll just leave then. Doesn't matter to me. I just thought you'd prefer a clean cut."

"Cut?"

"Departure, whatever." She tapped her nails on the table. "I called my father as well."

Peter looked up at her in surprise. "Is that so?"

"He said that whatever decision I make he'll be proud of me. So long as I'm careful of course." She shot him a bitter smile. "Said he was surprised I hadn't run off years ago."

Wendall looked between the spatting couple awkwardly. They rarely fought. "I…Perhaps I should go."

"No," The woman stood, "Stay. I'm going. I've made all the arrangements. This should be easy on you."

The men watched her go silently, a frown on the older's lips as a small smirk rose on Wendall's. "Oh, shut up."

-An hour later-

"Uh, hello," the redhead pushed her hair back as she smiled at the man behind the desk.

The hotel's lobby was almost deserted, but the clerk seemed to be struggling with his work load. His eyes glued to the computer in front of him, he looked up at her with a look of annoyance. "Yes?"

"I seem to have lost my room key," Nadia lied, smiling sheepishly, "I was wondering if you could buzz my husband?"

"Last name?" The man asked, a bored drone in his voice.

"Eames."

"He's not here."

Nadia turned to face the new man with a quirked brow. Arthur's hands were deep in his pockets, his dark eyes understanding but not sympathetic. The woman frowned, "What?"

"He left this morning," The young man took her arm and steered her away from the front desk. "I heard about your fight."

"We did not have a fight," She rolled her eyes, "If we had a fight I would've got a word in edge wise."

Arthur gestured to one of the lobby's plush looking chairs. Nadia took a seat wordlessly, a frown setting on her full lips. He tilted his head, eying her with tight features. "Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Then why not leave your husband?"

"I have."

He raised a brow at her. "Really?"

"Called the lawyers this morning." She smiled weakly before a bitter chuckle escaped her throat. "I always was bad with timing."

Arthur nodded. He liked Nadia. She seemed like a good suit for Eames. Less wild. More grounded. He supposed this was odd, considering she was a promiscuous upper-class housewife, but no more odd than Eames being a counterfeiting dream thief. "Can I give you a word of advice?"

"Sure," The Russian woman shrugged, "Why not?"

"Give him some time. If there's one thing Eames isn't, it's focused." Arthur smirked at her, "Much less when it comes to the likes of you."

Nadia sight but nodded. "Wait it out, huh? What if he doesn't come back?"

"He'll be back." Arthur assured her. "He always comes back. The guy's a parasite."

She smiled at him, standing. Pulling a business card and pen out of her purse, she jotted something down on the back. "Here. This is where I can be reached."

Arthur took it with a arched brow. "Moscow?"

"I have family there."

"Fine." He nodded, "I'll pass it on next time I see him."

The hug was swift but short, and she planted a quick kiss on his lips. "You're a saint, Arthur." He blinked at her in surprise, a smile twitching at his lips. "Too bad you're such a spazz."

The smile fell. "I'll pass it on," He repeated with a frown. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Will do." Nadia smirked and left the hotel, feeling freer than she had in a long time.

A/N: Okay. The end. The idea popped in my head and I couldn't get it out, ironically. I might do another one about Eames falling for a Mark. Although, I am a huge Eames/Arthur fan, I'd like to see some more Eames/OCs out there.