Disclaimer: Inception is not mine at all. :')

Prologue

Robert placed his razor back to its home in the cupboard, and stared at himself in the mirror, frowning ever-so-slightly at the dark circles under his eyes. Yet another day of Uncle Peter pestering him about unnecessarily problems, as his father got more ill day by day. He washed his hands, and then walked out to his room, gazing over his many suits to begin another day of business. Nothing like a business suit to fit the bill. He reached for a typical deep blue-tinged black suit before retreating and spontaneously choosing a usually ignored light grey tailored suits—well, weren't they all? He stared at his reflection, checking that his appearance was proper enough to be present in front of everyone. A quick sigh, and he straightened his back and walked to a nearby office within the building that now contained many various members of the legal team, and a room that was made into a hospital setting for caring of his father.

Making a quick entrance, he nodded to the many insignificant blurs of faces, startled as his brisk stride was interrupted. A hand had grasped onto his own wrist, right before he could enter his father's room.

Eames was an observant person—it comes as a trade of being a proper forger. His eyes always noticed, even without intention at times, observing Peter. While Robert wasn't the main target of his miniscule mission, he was the mark within the big picture.

The slight deepening of gray, tainted now as a burgundy sliver, shot Eames as irregular immediately. Robert always maintained an impeccable appearance, barely short of perfect in front of audiences, and this was a blemish in his usual state. When Fischer shot him a blatantly annoyed look, he raised a brow and stared straight at his thigh.

With that simple glance, Robert froze on the spot. Without showing any panic, despite his mind screaming 'He knows, he knows!' Confirming his suspicious when he looked down, he saw the mildly growing stain that tainted the fabric of his pants. "Small accident," he mumbled under his breath, more to Eames than to himself. With that, he left the room as quickly as he had entered.

The calm demeanour broke the second Robert got back into his own loft. He smacked the mirrors with his fists, though not with the purpose to break them, he was simply frustrated."I knew I should've picked the damned black suit."

He slipped off the attire and sat on his bed, inspecting the damage. The cut was much deeper than the others; biting his lip, the reality of the pain had sunken in and it ached with a sore feeling. His smooth hands traced the fresh cut on his leg, and it was quickly getting worse. The change of positions and pressure applied to the leg had made more blood seep out. Finding a packet of bandages, he clumsily stuck some on to cover the superficial wound.

Robert had just finished dressing and took a single step past the door when the man from before shoved him right back in.

Eames had barged into Fischer's room, quickly shutting the door closed behind him. He knew this was not part of the plan, but he couldn't help himself. Along with genuine concern, he did have a minor downfall to his talents and that was sometimes (albeit rarely,) his curiosity gets the better of him- this was just 'one of those times.' "Fischer, I'm sorry for—"

"You better well be sorry for invading my privacy like that," Robert's controlled yet oddly erratic voice spoke over Eames' empty apology.

"—What I was trying to get at, is that I hope you aren't hurt?" Eames mustered up a pitiful expression. "The team needed your opinion on a situation, and you'd been gone longer than anticipated, sir."

Robert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "What? No, no. I'm perfectly fine." Realizing this man was practically a stranger to him, his face sobered up of any emotion. "Who are you?" He gave the taller male a quick look-over, stopping right back at his green eyes that shone through the serious tone in the room.

"Just another body on the linguistics team, sir." Eames took a step back, and looked about the entire room. 'Neat, luxurious, impersonal,' he quickly noted. "Now I am sorry, but we do need you back in the room."

Robert nodded uneasily, his complexion unordinarily pale, and the pair attempted in carrying on. Eames' hand was barely on the handle of the door before he heard a thud on the ground. Within a moment, Eames was right by the male heir's side and checking the collapsed male. He loomed over the unconscious body, and held Fischer's face in his hands, "Hello? Fischer? Can you hear me?" Honestly worried, he lifted the male with surprising ease onto the bed. "You weight a lot less than I'd think, princess."

Without thinking about any consequences, he pressed his hand firmly on Fischer's thigh, where he'd previously seen the wound. 'Pray that he will not wake up during this', Eames thought to himself. The wetness got past the poorly applied plasters, and without a single blush to his perfectly tanned complexion, Eames began to unbutton the heir's pants. With a smooth yank, his suspicious were not only confirmed, but his eyes could only bug in surprise.

There were tiny scars that scattered all over the pale flesh of Fischer's legs, and Eames felt himself tempted to trace them. Many only days old, pity struck his mind; shaking his head, he got himself together. 'This is not the right time for this,' but was there really a proper moment for a situation quite like this? He peeled off the sloppily applied bandages and went to look around in the bathroom for anything to stop the wound. Upon his quick inspection, it was probably just a superficial wound, but that didn't stop it from bleeding any less or hurting any less.

After finishing up the best job he could with minimal supplies and time, Eames pulled up the sheets over the younger man's body, watching his chest move up and down in a tempered rhythm. Deciding it was best to leave for now, he took one last glance at Fischer before leaving to notify the rest of the group that Robert Fischer was not feeling well and decided to take the day for himself. Browning gave him a sceptical look but quickly regained momentum on whatever topic he was having a one-sided conversation with, to one of the other lawyers.

A/N: I was not really thinking about anything medically unfortunately, such as with bleeding and it may be presumed to be very, very fictitious. I tried to change the entire point of the chapter but… It didn't work out so well. Sorry about this! D: