I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you, I know you were right believing for so long.
I'm all out of love, what am I without you, I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong. - Air Supply
Her eyes open and blink rapidly at the bright light that streams through the sheer curtains of the bedroom. She takes in the beautiful and pristine setting, and feels a terrifying panic encase her being. Her palms are sweaty and she can feel her heart racing, but can find no specific reason for it. But she can sense that something is off. Beside her sleeps the handsome husband that loves her. Just down the hall are two beautiful little girls that want nothing more than her love, and outside there is a neighborhood that seems to need her in a rather deep way. But, every time, she wakes with the same shortness of breath, and the same panic in her heart and mind. Because deep down, she knows that this is not real, that it's an illusion.
Her eyes focus on the bathroom door, and she pulls herself out of bed and towards the hot shower she knows can be found behind it. As she crosses the expanse of beige carpet she glances back over her shoulder at the man that is still sleeping in their mussed up bed. One of his long, lean legs hangs out of the sheets and her eyes trail up to his muscular back before finally settling on his handsome face. His black hair is ruffled from sleep and his face nearly boyish in the innocence of sleep. She feels her heart skip a beat when his lips curve up into a small smile and she can't stop the responding grin that twitches her lips at the sight. He's gone, it's not real! she wants to yell at herself, but instead relishes the sight of him in their bed. He's here now, and that's what matters.
The hot water helps to erase all of her remaining tension, and as she exits the bathroom she thinks her earlier panic silly. Why should she panic when this life is so beautiful? She frowns at the empty bed as she dresses in grey yoga pants and a black tunic top, sweeping her wavy brown hair into a messy ponytail before heading down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready for her girls. She finds her husband already pouring milk over their bowls of cereal, and she picks up the steaming cup of coffee that sits on the counter waiting for her.
"Thanks honey," she coos as she walks over to him and places a peck on his cheek. He gives her a small smile, but doesn't respond. Before she has time to wonder why he isn't speaking, the doorbell rings and she trots down the hall to answer it.
The woman at the door is a small blonde with startling blue eyes and a bindi in the middle of her forehead. She has a slight southern twang, but it's obvious that she is trying to hide it. "Well, good morning, Miss Kyra. Shall we have a cup of that sweet chicory coffee before we go on our run?" The woman gestures down the hall with her head, her curls bobbing comically.
Kyra is slightly confused; she doesn't remember any plans for a run. In fact, the thought of a morning jog is not something that appeals to her in any way. She can only guess that Cathy tricked her somehow, that she had agreed to go for a run without knowing what she was agreeing to in the first place. But she feels it is too late to back out now. Reluctantly, she nods her head slowly. "Um, sure Cathy. Let's have some coffee first." She turns around and walks back to the kitchen, the sound of the other woman's steps echoing in the short hallway.
When she reaches the kitchen she is surprised to find it empty. Kyra is sure that her girls should be eating, but not only are they missing, there is no evidence of the cereal her husband had prepared. She begins to open her mouth to call out to them, but then the world begins to shift, and she can feel her body failing to compensate. Her arms spin wildly as she fights to remain upright, though it is futile. As she plummets backwards toward the tile floor she watches with dismay as her husband rushes into the room with a terrified look on his face. Then her head hits the tile with a sickening, painful smack and her eyes are closed once more.
This time she doesn't need to open her eyes to know where she is. She is very well aware that this is reality, and the knowledge is far from a comfort. The smell of sweat, dirt and chemicals permeate the air, and the noxious scent is nearly suffocating. She can hear the breathing of those that are still under and voices above her discussing times and costs. She knows that her dream time has been cut short, and she figures the hot breath on her cheek has something to do with it.
"Well good morning, sunshine! Did you find what you was looking for?" a rough voice asks, letting a flood of garlic breath hit her. Kyra has to suppress a gag as a very real panic takes hold of her, recognizing the voice and the smell. She tenses her muscles, preparing to run.
Finally she pries her heavy eyes open and looks at the face that is leering down at her. He is slightly pudgy and has thick black hair slicked back with entirely too much gel. Even though he is clean physically, he just seems to ooze a greasy slime. She lets loose a short, frustrated sigh and stares the man down, attempting to sound nonchalant. "No, what do you want, Leech? You interrupted."
"Thought you could hide from me, use another dealer? Pretty face like you? You're not hard to miss, sweetheart." His responding smile is predatory. "And while there are certainly some things that I want from you, some very lovely gentlemen are here to escort you elsewhere."
Escort is hardly the word she would use to describe it. The grip on Kyra's arms is so tight, she's sure she'll have bruises in the morning. Her feet are dragging across a plush, grey carpet as they haul her into a beautiful office, all glass and steel, dotted with warm cherry wood furniture. She notes the oddity of the antique furniture in contrast to the ultra-modern room before they throw her into a hard wooden chair. The brutish men stand their guard on either side of her, leaving her to rub her arms as blood starts flowing through them again. "You boys could have just asked nicely." Her guards don't respond, just stand vigil silently until a door on the opposite side of the room opens.
"Ms. Davis, so nice of you to join me this evening." The woman is striking, her beauty almost severe, all long limbs and sharp angles. She strides confidently across the room in a few steps before taking a seat behind her large desk, looking perfectly comfortable.
"Like I was given a choice in the matter." Kyra grips the arms of the chair to hide the fact that her hands are trembling. She's trying to maintain a collected exterior but inside, she's afraid. She can feel her heart racing in her chest, and can't help but wonder if everyone in the room can hear it thundering away.
The woman doesn't look fazed, merely picks up a folder from her desk and starts reciting. "Kyra Rahimi Davis. Born in Atlanta to Hassan and Jacqueline Rahimi. Both parents deceased before you were ten. Things seem to have gone downhill from there. Multiple arrests for breaking and entering, larceny, possession of illegal substances-"
"I was a juvenile, those records are supposed to be sealed." Kyra can feel her voice crack, though it seems no one else notices.
"Not to those that can pay handsomely for information, Ms. Davis. You seemed to have cleaned up your act after meeting your late husband, though it appears you have lost your scruples since his passing. And addicted to dreaming to boot," she tuts, the woman's voice cold, fluid, like icy vodka poured from a bottle.
The idea that this woman knows her deepest secrets, not only of her current addiction, but her prior arrests, has Kyra shaken to the core. "Why am I here? I don't even know who the hell you are."
"You can call me Charity, because that is what I'm extending to you. For a price, of course." It is obvious to Kyra that this is not the woman's name and she makes a mental note to research it later. The more she knows, the better prepared she can be for whatever is coming. The woman closes the folder she's looking at and inspects Kyra over the top of her glasses. "You are in a very bad way with some very bad people, Ms. Davis. I brought you here to remedy that."
"Out of the goodness of your heart?"
"I require your very specialized services."
"Oh?"
Charity stands and glides around her desk, leaning against it as she faces Kyra and hands her a photo. "Mr. Eames took something from me. And I need it back."
Kyra's first thought is that the man is handsome, despite his questionable taste in suits, and he has a look about him that is far from innocent. "And what exactly did he steal?" The woman hands her another photo, this time of a very simple object. "A poker chip? All of this for a poker chip?"
"You are not here to question me, or my motives. You can either assist me willingly, or I will toss you to the dream dealer and his dogs, and I think we both know that they will not hesitate to take what you owe to them from your body."
Kyra represses a shiver before it can travel down her spine. She has seen the way the dealer's men look at her, not to mention Leech himself, and she has no interest in finding out how they would take what she owes them.
"You will steal this chip, lure Mr. Eames back here to Detroit, then deliver both to me."
"What makes you think he'll follow me back here?"
"He will. The chip is of great importance to him."
"And if I fail?"
The woman stands, signifying that the conversation is over. "You won't, or else." She pauses briefly while shuffling through papers on her desk. "All of your expenses will be covered, this should be enough to get you started," she states while handing over an envelope. "You will not be dreaming again until your job is complete. You will be monitored to ensure your compliance. You're on a flight to Monte Carlo in two days. Gentlemen?"
Kyra stands before the henchmen can place their hands on her again. "I'm perfectly capable of walking out of here on my own, thank you."
She is almost out the door before Charity's voice drifts back to her. "We'll be watching, Ms. Davis. Don't fuck it up."
Eames sits at the mahogany bar, watching the glass entryway with rapt attention while trying to tune out the off-key singing of the woman on stage. Though he would never let the outside world know it, he is feeling rather anxious about meeting his old friends, certain that this is not a social visit. Cobb has never been known for his fun loving personality, and Arthur has always been an old woman. No, this is about a job and he knows it. Unfortunately, they are going to be disappointed at the end of this little talk, even if they were kind enough to fly him out to Monte Carlo.
When he sees the two men entering the building his hand drifts into his jacket pocket and absently caresses the poker chip tucked within it. His totem assures him that this is in fact reality, and when the men near him he withdraws his hand and begins tapping his fingers on the bar, squaring his shoulders and plastering a condescending smile on his face.
"Cobb, Arthur, lovely to see you again." His voice does not betray his displeasure at the meeting, instead it is as smooth as it always has been.
A buxom blonde woman approaches from the other end of the bar, a large smile spreading across her rather average face. "What can I get you gentlemen?" she trills, her voice high pitched and her fake French accent poorly done.
"Whatever you have on tap will be fine." Cobb says dismissively, obviously unhappy that he has been interrupted before he can even start.
"Grolsh, please. And a Shirley Temple for the lovely lady." Eames tilts his head indicating Arthur, and the waitress gives him a perplexed look, before looking to Arthur for confirmation.
Arthur doesn't crack a smile. "Just a soda water, thank you."
The men wait silently for the waitress to return, unwilling to start a conversation just to be interrupted again, but they don't wait for long. As soon as the drinks hit the bar and the waitress is gone, Eames asks the question that has been hanging in the air, just begging to be voiced. "So what are you here to try to drag me into this time, gentlemen? Another inception debacle?"
"Simple extraction, we just require your services." Cobb says matter of factly, before taking a long swig of his beer.
Eames notices Arthur surveying the woman singing karaoke on the stage, a maligned look on his face, and decides to lighten the mood a bit. "Thinking of having a go, Arthur? Perhaps we could duet on I'm All Out of Love." He smiles his most charming grin and gestures between himself and Arthur before pointing at the stage.
"We need a forger, Eames." Arthur says, completely ignoring the jab.
Eames sighs quietly and looks down at his bottle as if it will give him the right words. "I surmised as much. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm out of the game, gentlemen."
"Out of the game?" Cobb asks in utter disbelief.
Eames chuckles, but there is no humor in his tone and his eyes show that he sees no joy in what he is saying. "Did a job after Fischer's case, didn't turn out so well either. I'm done putting my bloody neck on the line, so it's back to honest thieving for me."
"Honest thieving?" Arthur says skeptically, and Cobb looks at Eames as if he has completely lost his marbles.
The woman has vacated the small stage and the DJ starts to play a sad French song. Eames takes a long pull on his beer before he responds. "A lot simpler that way. What do you say to that duet Arthur?" He asks, smirking once more.
"Is there nothing we can do to convince you otherwise?" Cobb's voice sounds almost pleading, though he isn't the kind of man to beg.
Eames looks both men in the eyes, ensuring that they understand that he is completely serious. "I'm sorry, but no. Lovely seeing you boys again, but there is a poker table calling my name." He drains his beer in one last pull and drops some cash on the bar, nodding his goodbye to Cobb and Arthur as he exits the bar.
A stunning brunette in a dress with a dangerously high slit up one leg catches his eye as he walks through the lobby, and Eames can't help but smile as he follows her into the poker room and watches her settle at his table. Win or lose, the evening just got more interesting.
A/N - This story is a collaboration between authors fifflesgiggles and comingsummers.
Thanks for reading, please review!