DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.
Eames felt his heavy eyes distort his vision. He shuddered as he remembered the first night.
As a Forger, he was trained for things like this. Acting. He needed to act calm, collected, and in absolute control of the situation. But knew he wasn't fooling anyone. He was scared, and worried and incredibly uncertain. He'd never felt like that before.
He was hungry, but he knew by looking at his "food" that that problem wouldn't be solved.
Plastic cutlery. This should be interesting Eames thought. He looked around and spotted Arthur sitting by himself. It frightened Eames to see him this way. He was simply staring into space, like nothing Arthur would do. A ghost of a man. He walked over and tried to ignore the tortured sounds of the people around him. They were angry, haunted, the real insanity of the place. He reached Arthur and swiftly moved into the seat next to him.
"Hi." His voice came out a hoarse whisper, his throat dry from the fact that he hadn't spoken.
Arthur did nothing but continue to stare. Eames sighed. "Arthur, you're scaring me. Say something."
"Look around you, Eames," Arthur's voice croaked. "All these people. It's terrifying. I knew places like this exist, but I never really knew about them. This is so fucked up."
Eames nodded slowly. "I know."
"Remember the Hanson job? How he was so tortured and angry? His subconscious was like a war zone."
"I remember."
Arthur inhaled slowly. The air felt dry and dirty in his throat. "Well…this is it. This is one big dreamscape of hate."
A scream made them both look up. Another patient was being restrained by two workers, screaming at the top of her lungs, sending shivers down Arthur's spine. Eames noticed how empty and sad her eyes were. She didn't seem crazy…just tormented. They watched as she was thrown to the ground whilst one of the workers quickly brought out a needle. Eames looked away as she was injected into the arm, her thrashing subsided slowly.
Arthur looked down at his plate. "Shit."
Eames cleared his throat, quickly trying to dispute the tension. "…Did you get any sleep last night?"
Arthur shook his head. "No. There was too much…"
"Screaming?"
"Screaming, crying, whatever you want to call it." Arthur's knuckled grew white around the plastic spoon. "We're going to find out who did this to us. I swear that to you."
"Yeah well, I think Cobb and Ariadne are probably thinking the same thing."
"Well Mr Cobb, are you comfortable?"
Cobb adjusted himself on the worn leather couch, placing both his hands on his chest. He had been submitted to weekly therapy sessions due to his…delusional behaviour.
He looked at the plain walls and decided that he would rather be back in his empty room than in here. Everything was so empty.
"Yes," he mumbled.
"Good." the man smiled. "I'm Dr Carter. I'll be talking with you for the duration of your therapy. Now, first of all, why do you think you are here?"
Cobb snorted. "Well…I don't know. I'm not meant to be here, nor are my team mates."
"Your team mates? Oh, you came in with the others? British guy, little brunette, tall dark eyed guy?"
Cobb nodded. "That's them. We were sent here under the accusation that we're delusional. Violent. Insane."
Carter nodded. "Hmm. Why do you think that you're violent?"
"We're not violent," Cobb snapped. "Whoever sent us here was lying."
"Can you tell me a little more about your team mates?" Carter asked, tapping on his clipboard with his pen. "You obviously have some emotional bond to them."
Cobb sighed and looked up to the ceiling. "Well…Arthur is like a brother to me. He's always supported me and stuck by me, even after Mal died."
"Your wife?"
Cobb nodded. "Even with all the crap I've put him through, he's always stayed by my side. And as for Eames, well, we're not that close, but I'd still look out for him. Countless years of sacrifice and loyalty from him. Ariadne really helped me through a hard time in my life, and she's so talented. They're my friends. Dare I say…some sort of family."
"Interesting," Carter mused. "So Cobb, be honest. This little fantasy you're living in…does it seem better than reality?"
Cobb turned his head to the side. "Fantasy?"
"Yes, all the dreaming."
Cobb stiffened. "…It's not a fantasy. It's very real."
"Interesting, what makes you think that?"
Cobb pushed himself up and stared into the eyes of the man before him, his breathing hitching in anger. "I'm going to say this once. I am not crazy. What has happened to me during my life is very much a real thing, and I know for a fact that there is nothing wrong with me or my team. So job down your notes and prescribe as much medication as you want, but I am not denying the truth."
Carter stared for a moment. "Mr Cobb, would you say that your wife's death was the cause of your anger?"
"I'm not angry!" Cobb snapped, his voice raised. "The sooner you god damn people accept that I am a person and not a pacient, the better it'll be for all of you."
Carter stood up and walked over to his desk. "Alright, Mr Cobb, calm down. Here, have some water." He returned with a white plastic cup which Cobb took from his hands.
"Sorry…it's just…been a stressful few-"
"I understand," Carter nodded. "Please, have a drink."
Cobb lifted the cup and swallowed back as much water as possible, trying to wash down the foul taste in his mouth.
"Now, what were you saying about your team mates?"
Cobb blinked. "I…I um…"
Carter's eyes narrowed. "Are you alright Mr Cobb?"
Cobb nodded. "Yeah…yeah I'm….fine." His breathing became shallow, and he felt his head quickly become sore, like an instant migraine. "Jesus, my head."
"Don't worry," Carter said, his face contorting into a dark smirk. "You won't feel anything in a moment."
Cobb felt his body becoming heavier. "What did you do to me?" He forced himself from the chair, trying to take a step towards the door.
"Just relax Mr Cobb. It's all part of our job. Patients who get too violent have to be sedated immediately."
"I'm not getting too vio-"
His legs gave out from under him, sending his entire body to the ground. As his head hit the hard floor, everything around him switched to black.