A/N: I do not own Inception, "More than it Seems" by Kutless or "Lights" by Ellie Goulding.
'Till There's nothing that's left of me
Show me the weight of these dreams...
Arthur sat up, gasping for breath. His eyes danced around the room, reminding him of where he was. As he checked the calendar beside his bed, Arthur tried to push aside the haunting cold that was left in his chest. No matter how many times he awoke from the same dream, the feeling always lingered. He tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation as he changed his focus to a lighter subject; today was the day. Sitting up, Arthur pulled off the loose hospital gown and threw it into a near basket, almost missing the basket in his haste to get rid of the offensive garment. Turning towards the small chair in the corner, he picked up the dark blue jeans and, after checking that all of the tags had been properly removed, he pulled them on. Repeating this process with the remaining undershirt, grey dress shirt, black vest, and tie, Arthur slowly began to feel like a normal person again, instead of a captive in an asylum. Finally, after sitting down to pull on his socks and shoes, he took a look around the room that had served as his pseudo-home. The gifts and vases of flowers from faceless names had stopped arriving after a few weeks of his admission. Now, two months later, the room was just empty. He stood, grabbed the small leather bag from the chair by the door, and made his way towards freedom. He tossed a quick goodbye to the nursing desk, but didn't stop to chat. He'd learned from his experience with Joyce the day before, that goodbyes could be dragged out if he let them.
Stepping out into the sun, Arthur squinted as he made his way to the taxi stand that seemed to be a deserted hub in the midst of the chaos of the hospital entrance. There was one tall, skinny man leaning against the small shack of an office, smoking a cigarette, and there was a small, pudgy woman sitting at the desk that seemed to be squished into the tiny space. Nodding at the man, Arthur approached the window in front of the lady. She looked up at him, and asked, "Where do you need to go?"
Arthur was taken aback by her bored, almost emotionless tone. Everyone in the hospital had always shown some new, or interesting inflection in their way of speaking, be it rushed, or tired, or supremely interested. But this woman was barely there, just a shell of a person. When the skinny man turned to look at him, Arthur realized that he'd been standing there, speechless for far too long.
"Oh, yea, sorry, The Airport." Before Arthur could say another word, his bag had been whisked away, and the skinny man was sitting in the driver's seat of a nearby cab. With a slight grimace at the pushiness of this man, Arthur hunkered down into the backseat of the cab and let himself be whisked away. He didn't know why he felt so apprehensive about leaving the hospital. Truthfully he was glad to watch it recede in the rear view window. Maybe it was the fact that he had no idea of what was coming towards him.
Passing through darkness into my own world
Will I be more than when I left?
Never letting go of the lessons I've learned,
This will make a change
A change within me...
Eames was pissed off. The flight from Toronto had been terrible. He didn't even know why he'd been shipped to Toronto, but he'd left at the first chance he got. If this was the treatment he was going to receive, just for leaving the military, then he wasn't going to stick around to see what was next on the menu. Eames stood from the cramped coach seat, just a second before the 'fasten-seatbelt' sign went off. Grabbing his bag from the overhead bin, he rushed towards the front of the plane. Unfortunately, just as he made it to first class, the captain's voice cracked over the speaker, informing the entire cabin that there had been a problem clearing the gate. Eames felt more than heard all of the passengers behind him groan in frustration. He just wanted to get out of there. Leaning on the seat beside him, Eames took a long, slow breath, and settled in to wait.
This time I won't run away
I found the strength to face life's long days...
Arthur stood waiting for his bag to come down the large chute at the turnstile, and as he waited, he decided that he hated airports. Well, it wasn't really a decision, so much as a realization of a feeling that was already there. The more he embraced his decision, the more comfortable he felt with the hatred bubbling up inside him. As he surveyed the bags making their slow journey around the room, he realized that none of the bags there were from his flight. Startled by this awareness, he thought for a second. Over the last month, he'd noticed that he had a particular eye for detail, but this was bordering on madness. Looking around, Arthur noticed that no one else was taking their bag. His observation had been correct, but he hadn't deduced it from watching the people around him. He had only seen the bags of the other passengers for a few moments while waiting for check-in. Shaking his head, he made his way over to a small bench that sat facing the conveyor belt. His bag would eventually come, once these other bags were picked up by the other flight. Arthur just hoped that, in the confusion, waiting wouldn't take too long.
And I'm not sleeping now
The dark is too hard to beat
And I'm not keeping now
The strength I need to push me...
His steps were rushed and random. Eames just wanted to get out of this hellhole. Barely glancing at the wonky signs that may confuse him, he just followed the crowd toward what he hoped was the baggage claim area. A rush of relief passed through him at the sight of his slightly battered bag making its way around the far side of the turnstile. His eyes roamed the room for a minute, trying to find the quickest way to nab it, and get out. When Eames caught sight of a most familiar form sitting prone on a nearby bench, he almost choked on his own breath.
Arthur was sitting right there. Eames knew he should look away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. A month of searching, and the man was sitting right in front of him. Arthur was real, and just a gorgeous as ever. As Eames took a step towards him, Arthur looked over. Their eyes met, and for a moment Eames thought it was going to be okay, that Arthur was feeling just a relieved as him. But the moment was over as quickly as it started. Arthur looked away awkwardly, and pointedly did not look back again. Eames mentally shook himself. 'Remember what they told you, he doesn't remember anything...' Trying not to do anything rash, Eames made his over to his bag, which miraculously was passing nearby, and making sure that everything was okay; he made his way out to the street. He hailed a taxi, and as he watched the lights of the New York City skyline draw nearer, Eames wondered what in the world he was going to do.
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine it when I'm alone
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong
And dreaming when they're gone...
A/N: I know, this was late. I blame writers' block, any anything else that there is to blame. What else can I say?...school was a bitch. But what else is new.
Anyway. We're finally moving forward a bit. Next chapter we're going to skip ahead a bit, and then the one after that will be when they both wake up from the dreamsharing that got us here in the first place.
Please review and let me know what you think!