DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.


As Ariadne sat in the hard plastic chairs, she looked around her. It was an architect's nightmare. The dull grey walls were peeling, as if they hadn't been painted for years, and everything was achingly simple. There were no sharp objects in the room, she noted. Nothing that could be used as a type of weaponry.

She felt sick. Right down to the pit of her stomach, there was a dull ache that didn't seem to die down. Surely this wasn't reality? It had to be a dream. She felt a sharp sinking feeling in her chest as she remembered that they took away her totem. They took away everything, not even leaving a small amount of something she called courage.

Mentally insane? They were far from it. She couldn't understand why nobody would listen to them.

Before them, lay a long white table, seating 4 people, who all looked at them in clear disgust and amusement. They weren't hiding it very well.

"So," the first woman said. Her hands were clasped together tightly on the table, and her black hair was scraped back into a high ponytail. She wore the same attire as everyone else in the room. White. Sickeningly white, crisp clothing. She looked up and took in their dirty appearances before looking back down at a file, eyebrow raised. "Here we have Dominic Cobb…Arthur Falcone…Jonathan Eames…Ariadne Peterson."

A man on the table coughed. He looked like he should be in the asylum as opposed to running it. Small, twitchy guy, obviously no great care for personal hygiene.

"They were placed together under the custody of the institute around 2 weeks ago. Results show extreme delusion, out of control emotive response and violent reactions."

Why were they talking about them as if they weren't here? Ariadne shifted in her seat.

Another man leaned forward. He was bigger, burlier than the other man. Ariadne hated him already. His eyes were dark, haunting and she didn't even want to know what they'd seen. His greasy brown hair was gelled back, as if he was somebody.

He looked at them for a moment. "My name is Doctor Roberts, I'm the main doctor and manager of this establishment." He spoke slowly and clearly, as if he were talking to children. "Your submission here will continue for as long as it has to, until your tests prove otherwise."

"You will be searched and tested for any contraband, everyday," the woman said, keeping her attention on the papers in front of her. "If your behaviour persists to be uncontrollable or angry, we will sedate you and place you in containment." She looked up, her face stony. "If the behaviour continues, more...extreme actions will be taken."

"You have been submitted together," the twitchy guy said. "But you will serve your sentence apart."

"Any questions?"

There was silence. Ariadne hated the silence. She had a thousand questions, but none she believed would help her case at all.

"Yes, Mr Eames."

Eames remained still in his seat, like stone. "Yeah…are we even going to get a chance to prove that we're not crazy?"

Roberts cleared this throat. "Mr Eames…from these results, there is no need for you to prove anything."

"What results? We're not insane, we're not lying! Everything we said is true!" Eames snapped, and Ariadne could hear something in his voice she'd never heard before. Fear. It didn't suit him.

"You're all living the same delusion," Roberts countered, just as bitterly. "You can't go into people's dreams, that's just not possible. The sooner you accept that, the better. Look at these results, you said you were a…Forger?"

Eames looked to the ground, silent once more.

"And you, Mr Cobb, you said you were an…"

"Extractor," Cobb sighed.

"Oh, and here's my favourite…Architect?"

Ariadne looked up to find his mocking gaze upon her.

His face twisted into some sort of amusement. "What's in that job description?"

Ariadne swallowed. "…I…I design dreams…create the world…"

"Exactly. We have a definition of sanity here. You all just don't fit the description," he hissed.

"Now. From this point on, you are no longer normal citizens," the woman rolled the word on her tongue, as if it were a new disease. "You are pacients of the Shadehouse Mental Institution, and you will act as such."

Ariadne looked to the door as 4 large men walked in. Ah, the control.

"Today you will be submitted to more tests to confirm what level you will be considered as. Take them out of here."

As she felt a large pair of hands pulling her from her seat, Ariadne winced slightly and pulled back from them.

"Don't struggle. Make it easy on yourself," she heard a deep voice say from behind her.

She then allowed herself to be taken away, pulled out of her room. As they were taken down a corridor, she realised it would only seen to get worse. Things were darker, empty.

As they walked down the empty hallway, Ariadne looked at the endless abiss of doors. Each labeled Submission Room 03, Submission Room 04...It never seemed to end.

She felt herself jump slightly as she heard a toe curling scream from one of the rooms. Endless sobbing. Ariadne found herself surprised that she wasn't the one screaming.

They were pushed into a room, and forced onto a set of chairs, which Ariadne noted were no more comfortable than the previous ones. It seemed to her that everything in this place was a hell with four walls.

"You first." She felt a quick prod on her back. "Get up."

She quickly stood up, not daring to make eye contact with the others. One look would break her into oblivion. She knew she wouldn't even be able to find an ounce of comfort in Cobb's sharp blue eyes, or Eames piercing greys. Even Arthur's dark chocolate eyes. She felt her body go numb once more as she was guided into the next room. As she entered, she realised she was alone once more. Grey walls burnt at her eyes, the hard concreate hard under her feet. A single light from the ceiling, flickered, taunting her.

"Miss Peterson."

She turned around quickly and saw 2 women walk in with a few items in their hands. She couldn't see what they were, but she had a feeling they weren't to her benefit. They seemed like nurses, the women, and one of them looked at her with some tinge of genuine sympathy, whilst the other looked at her in shame. Ariadne saw that they were both wearing light blue scrubs, identical to one another. It was all so robotic.

"Miss Peterson, can you understand me?" one of them asked.

Ariadne nodded shakily.

"Good." She held up some clothing in her hand. "Would you like to change yourself? Or do you want us to do it for you?"

Ariadne quickly reached for the clothing. "I can do it," she quietly said. She waited for them to disappear, but they didn't. They simply hung around, expectantly.

"Can I…have some privacy?" Ariadne asked.

One of the women made a small laughing sound at the back of her throat. "Nice try. Just hurry up, we've got more people to deal with."

Ariadne swallowed. She felt her hand shaking as she pulled off her scarf. She'd never felt so judged in her life. Humiliation crept upon her as she hastily removed her shirt, quickly replacing it with the one she had been given. It took all she had not to burst into tears as she removed her jeans and kicked them onto the cold floor.

"Cavity search. Over there."

Ariadne froze. She looked up in horror. "What?"

The less sympathetic nurse sighed in slight irritation. "Standard precaution. Over by the wall."

"No!" Ariadne snapped, recoiling as if she had been burnt.

"Do you need sedation?"

"Just leave me alone!" she cried, feeling the tears finally make their escape down her cheeks. "I don't belong here!"

The slightly kinder nurse approached her slowly. "It's alright. The quicker you calm down, the quicker we can-"

"Let me go!" Ariadne sobbed as she felt the returning retraining grasp on her arms. "Cobb! Wake me up! Wake me up!"

"That's it, I've had enough. Sedation!" she heard a voice snap.

"No! Please!"

As Cobb heard the frantic shrieks and screams from the room, he shuddered. He heard his name being called, among cries of help. But he knew he couldn't help. He couldn't do anything for his team now. He had got them into the inevitable end, and it was the frightening truth that they would lose their sanity.

If they weren't already crazy, like everyone had been suggesting.