Disclaimer: I don't own Inception

The music listened to while writing this was 'One Simple Idea' and 'Dream Is Collapsing' from Inception soundtrack.

Anyway, on with the chapter

"What'll it be, handsome?"

Eames' steady gaze was broken by the voice of an unfamiliar woman near him; the quiet shifting and scooting of the bar stool pulling all his thoughts out of his grasp as she took a seat next to him. Her strawberry blond hair falling over half her somewhat pointed face while the rest curled to the middle of her back, the stunning black dress she wore showed enough cleavage to attract any man as she leaned closer to him.

Shining blue eyes staring into his stormy gray ones as if to try and make him bend to her will like a puppet on strings.

Snaking one arm around his shoulders slowly while her chin just barely touched his shoulder, the smell of her perfume was strong as she scooted her bar stool closer to him. Eames looked down at the small glass that was half empty in front of him, clearly trying to show her he wasn't interested but found it to be in vain as the woman continued to try and seduce him.

"It's on me," the forger felt a strange feeling run down his back as her mint smelling breath hit his ear, a sudden uneasiness came over as he looked at the woman, the voice allowed small hints of lustfulness that could get any man into bed with her. Eames' stomach knotted as he swallowed a forming lump in his throat.

The woman's angelic face and offer would usually make Eames accept and smile graciously at the thought of having some small talk over a drink. He rarely slept around; only once or twice did he do it in his younger years while experimenting as he looked her up and down again. Analyzing her carefully in the dim bar lights. She had what appeared to be an hourglass figure that was nicely curved as she sat cross legged, her dress pulling tighter around the middle of her thighs, like he said before, this was usually someone he'd have a drink with in a bar. Maybe flirt with for a bit.

However, this time was different. He just didn't feel right, something was off with this woman; small hints in the flirtatious body language that he'd become used to and learned to read over the years was now setting off red flags in his mind that continued to race with questions that had no answer. Too many things were just not right as he threw a bill and gracious tip to the bar tender.

"No thank you, I must be going." Eames stood and left the bar quickly, his heart swelling again with uncertainty as he continuously rubbed his totem around in his pocket. He swore his fingers were red from how much he'd tried to replicate it, only to find the poker chip was normal.

One piece, not two, not three; just one. That confirms this is no dream... So what's this feeling?

'I don't like this.'

Eames stepped out of the bar, staring up at the multicolored sky caused by the setting sun as he started down the street to his apartment. A small place that he had under a false name that he would stay at when visiting Cobb and the others, nothing fancy, just simple and plain. The only thing that really decorated it was the mess he made stumbling out of bed in the morning after a night of one too many drinks, something he tried to avoid as well.

Eames' made it a high priority on his list to never let himself get out of control with the drinking, not only did it cloud his judgment but it risked his true identity and many other secrets being announced to the world for any enemy to grab onto the use against him. Something he always kept in mind when going out to have a drink by himself or with an acquaintance.

The forger stood straight, trying to look as casual as possible while keeping on hand in his pocket; his finger tips resting on the pocket knife he kept on him whenever he left the apartment. The sound of his shoes hitting the concrete while people around him chatted about almost meaningless things were nearly overbearing as he tried to concentrate.

'Don't hear anyone following,' he thought to himself as the apartment building started getting closer, relief beginning to creep its way into his heart while the uneasiness stayed strong. Gently pushing people aside, he got through the crowds and made his way up the stairs of the slightly run down building.

Counting every step unconsciously while keeping his ears trained for any kind of subtle sound, his eyes scanning everything around him. One would call it being paranoid, and maybe it was, but with his job… It was a way of life.

Looking over your shoulder and being cautious everywhere you go with every step you take.

That sentence burned itself into Eames' mind when he first learned about the dreaming business, it was a rule he lived by as a forger. He'd learned how to heighten his senses over many years of practice; it's an important thing to have in this line of work.

Eames still had that feeling in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't shake it even as he made his way down the small hallway, stopping at his door and unlocking it. Opening it slowly. Keeping his fingers on the cool metal side of the knife as he stepped over the threshold, the familiar smell of air freshener hitting him that came from the direction of his kitchen.

Stepping into his small apartment with caution, shutting the door and making his way to the living room that only held a couch and coffee table. Nothing was out of place as he check his bathroom and kitchen, both seemed fine as he made his way to the bedroom; pushing the door open just as a sound came from the front door. The forger's head snapped to the left, looking past the edge of the bedroom doorway to stare at the front door while slowly pulling himself back. Approaching the door and gripping the handle, he turned it, pulling it open a crack to find it was that same woman from the bar. Eames' grip on the handle tightened as he shut the door, not letting her get a word out before another sound came from his apartment.

This time from one of the other rooms as he turned to face the small hall that led to his living room with his back to the door, keeping his breathing in check and his senses sharp as he locked the door. Creeping down the hall with his pocket knife out and at the ready, his eyes shifted back and forth between the open living room and his bedroom door. Eames stopped just as he stepped out of the hallway; he peered around the room as it hit him again. An unfamiliar smell faintly present beneath the air freshener that quickly sent up more red flags, followed by a creak of one of the wooden panels that was loose.

Enough to make him turn quickly to face the person behind him, plunging the small knife into the man's chest, followed by a hard punch to his jaw that sent him back into the wood cabinets as Eames bolted for the bedroom door. Making it past the doorway when someone came out of the bathroom beside it, tackling the forger to the ground.

The impact was hard enough to put Eames in a small daze as his vision swam; the large man who was clearly over two hundred pounds of muscle beginning to get up off the floor as Eames pushed himself up. Forcing his legs to get him to the dresser as he tried to catch his breath and his head pounded. He could feel a small trickle of blood coming down the right side of his face as he pulled out the top drawer, ripping away the clothing and searching frantically as the large man who tackled him planted his heavy feet on the ground with a thud. Eames turned at the sound of a low chuckle, only to find the man holding the gun as if holding a treat for a dog. Waving it back and forth with a smile.

"Looking for this?"

"Bloody bleeder," Eames remarked, swallowing as he looked to the man and bedroom doorway continuously before deciding to make a run for it; making it into the next room with the large man right on his tail. His large hand grabbing Eames shirt collar and throwing him to the side, letting go of him at the last second which caused the forger to fly for a moment. Rolling over the couch and breaking the coffee table with his back, the couch was quickly flipped as the thug ran in his direction; to this Eames decided to take a shot. Getting to his feet, he threw himself in the direction of the man, his full body weight colliding with the thug's as he struggled to get the gun from him.

The weapon was held tight in the man's hands before he quickly threw it to the side, the action shocked Eames as the man proceeded to pick up the forger who continued to fight. Punching the thug in the face to find it not hurting him at all as he threw Eames through the glass doors that led to his balcony. The man's skin cut from the small shards of glass as he landed hard on the cement, reaching out; Eames grabbed a large piece of glass in front of him. Waiting until the large man came his way before thrusting it into his stomach, the thugs' gasp was barely audible as he looked down at the shard that was sticking out of his shirt.

Eames took this opportunity to scramble to his feet and limp past the man, making his way out the door to find more men making their way down the hallway; each of them dressed in suits. He could only make out two or three of them coming in his direction, breaking into a run when they spotted the forger who also broke into a painful sprint.

The sun now set as the night sky was filled with moonlight, barely giving Eames enough light to make his way down the steps. He was nearly to the first level of stairs when someone came around the corner, taking hold of his shirt and slamming their forehead into his with a resounding crack. The impact made Eames stumble, one hand unconsciously grabbing his forehead while the other tried to push past the man.

The dazed forger had no time to counter the man's next move as he was punched hard in the jaw before being hurled down the stairs, each one hitting Eames' adrenaline filled body before he finally crumpled at the bottom. The adrenaline wearing off as he reached out weakly, gripping for anything in front of him to find nothing to hold onto.

His fingertips bent as he dragged himself along the concrete, his head bleeding as he spit out a bit of blood from where he landed hard on one of the stairs. His white shirt and black jeans torn and dirty, small blood stains covering them in places as he tried to escape.

Looking at the crowded parking lot to find a car pulling into an empty spot across the lot from him, one hand reaching out as if to grab the person who was exiting the vehicle. He knew they wouldn't see him from where he was, two cars leaving barely enough room to seeing him on the ground from where they stood as he groaned while trying to form words.

"Help," the word seemed to die in his throat as he tried to say it a second time, the slow clicks of shoes coming down the stairs making his heart race. His cut lips stung as he said the word again, only to find it not going above a weak rasp just as the large man from the apartment grabbed hold of his ankles.

Roughly pulling him across the concrete and delivering a powerful punch to the forger's cheekbone; a smile appearing at the sight of Eames head falling to the side limply before he was carelessly thrown across the man's shoulder. His chin hitting the middle of the thugs back as he glanced up towards the couple who were walking away from their car, "help…"

Again the rasp fell on deaf ears as he was carried around back, now barely conscious as the thug threw him into the trunk of a car and slammed it shut. Eames' body landed at a position that made everything ache worse, one arm sitting behind his back at an awkward angle while his legs were bent tightly from the cramped space. His head resting on the floor of the trunk, blood dripping from the cut on his forehead and mouth as he slipped into unconsciousness when the car hit a large bump in the street.

That's all for now, the next chapter will deal with Cobb and the others when they discover his wrecked apartment.