Unwilling Actions

Summary: Eames is drugged by some "old friends" and the chemicals ravage his mind causing him to do terrible, unspeakable things. Graphic non-con.

…~~~~…~~~~…

"Fucking bastards!" Eames groaned as he slumped against the wall of an alley, unable to think coherently.

He had received an invitation earlier in the week to play cards with some old friends he hadn't been in touch with for the past few years. They had all gotten into the extraction business at about the same time and had bonded over the fact that they were young and inexperienced. Now that they were older and knew more about the business, they had lost touch as they went their separate ways, taking jobs far and wide. It hadn't been a huge surprise when he got the invite and though he knew he shouldn't stray from his duties, he accepted the invitation. I'm sure Arthur isn't so awful as to deny me this. He told himself it would be just like old times, a bunch of friends drinking, smoking, and playing a few rounds of poker.

He had been entirely wrong as to why he had been asked to join them. He hadn't noticed right away, he was so caught up in being happy about seeing Greg, Larry, Brad, and Eugene that he didn't realize they were acting strangely. In fact, it really wasn't until one of them clocked him over the head with a bat that he noticed there wasn't even a table or any chairs for them in the small room they occupied.

When he came to, his hands were handcuffed behind his back and his so called friends were standing over him, looking more and more like enemies.

"We just weren't happy you ended up getting all the attention," Larry explained, kicking him in the stomach as he spoke, "We all got into this business at the same time, but you had to go and be one of the few forgers. Made a big splash and left us in the dust, didn't you?"

"That's not my fault," Eames had said, trying to let the good natured tone in his voice guide him. He was convinced that he could talk the guys out of whatever it was they had planned. Though all his words got him was another kick to the stomach and this time he cried out, gasping for air and curling in on himself.

He felt a hand grabbing at his hair and then his head was being pulled back, exposing his neck. He couldn't see what they were doing, but he felt the familiar sting of a needle penetrating his skin followed by a warm, almost burning sensation as they injected something into him.

"What did you do to me?" the forger asked, struggling against his bonds.

"We drugged you," Greg said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, "But you're in luck. You have friends here, don't you?"

"Maybe they can help you," Larry said with a laugh before slamming Eames' head against the ground, causing the forger to see stars.

He had heard the clicking of the handcuffs when they came loose. When he gained his footing again, the others were gone and he could feel the drug, whatever it was, coursing through his system. He had to undo the first two buttons of his shirt, he felt like he was burning up. He had gathered his coat and ran from the building, hoping to catch one of them and raise hell, but instead he found himself in the alleyway, gasping for breath. What's happening to me?

Larry's words echoed in his mind. Maybe they can help you. He decided to head toward the warehouse, hoping someone would be there to help him sort out this mess.

…~~~~…~~~~…

Ariadne stood over her maze design. It wasn't very elaborate, nowhere near as big as the inception job, but she had wanted input. When Arthur told her he would give her his opinion if she stayed later, she agreed. She knew he had a critical eye and would be able to spot any of her weak points. The point man had gone to freshen up in the bathroom and the architect stood by herself, her eyes tracing the maze.

Cobb sure has been going to sleep sooner since he started taking care of his kids, she thought to herself with a smile. It never failed to amuse her to think of how different the Cobb she knew when she first met him was from the Cobb she knew now. She certainly liked the new and improved Cobb a lot more.

The sound of a door being flung open caused her to look up. She furrowed her brows in confusion when she saw who was walking into the warehouse, "Eames?"

There was something strange about the way the forger was walking, slightly hunched over, hand gripping his chest. The architect started walking toward him, instantly worried that he might be hurt. As she moved forward, she saw the look on Eames' face and it caused her to stop in her tracks. His teeth were bared and he looked ready to growl at her. She immediately started to backpedal.

Then the forger was on her, moving too fast for her to even react. His hand held a firm grip around her scarf and he pushed her back against her work station. She could feel he model being crushed under her weight as her back hit the table's surface.

"Eames, stop!" she cried, kicking out her legs, but she was too small and couldn't match his strength.

"Shut up, you little bitch!" the forger yelled in a voice that didn't sound to be his own.

There looked to be so much anger in his eyes, so much rage just bubbling up and spilling over. The look in his eyes scared Ariadne beyond comprehension. His hands grabbed at the front of her shirt and in that moment, she started to scream, "Arthur! Help me!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the sound of her t-shirt ripping in the forger's hands. Then suddenly the weight on top of her was gone and she heard the sound of two voices, the sounds of a struggle. She opened her eyes to see that Arthur had tackled Eames, trying to keep him pinned to the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur yelled, punching Eames in the face.

The forger looked completely unaffected by the blow, pushing the point man off of him. Arthur immediately backed away, pulling Ariadne from the table and pushing her behind him.

"Stay behind me," he told her, his voice filled with anger and uncertainty.

Eames stared at them and the architect noticed that his eyes no longer held that rage, that fury she had seen earlier. His hands went to either side of his head and he folded in on himself, cursing and screaming, "Get out of here! Get away from me!"

"Eames?" Ariadne tried, her voice trembling.

"Go!" the forger's voice echoed through the warehouse.

Then Arthur was pulling her out of the building, pushing her toward the car. She couldn't register what had happened back there, but she knew the point man was shoving the car keys into her hands. He carefully draped his blazer over her shoulders, trying to cover her up.

"I need you to go get Cobb," Arthur said, his voice strained as he placed his hands on either side of her face to hold her attention, "Go get Cobb and tell him that something has happened to Eames. Tell him that Eames isn't himself and that he needs to come down here right away. You got that?"

The architect nodded. Then she bit her lip, "What about you?"

"Don't you worry about me," the point man said with a forced smile, "Just go get him and get back here as fast as you can."

"You're going back in there."

"Go. Now."

She was pushed into the driver seat and she had to fight the urge to get out and follow Arthur back into the warehouse. Instead, she turned on the ignition with shaky hands and drove as fast as she could toward the hotel.

…~~~~…~~~~…

Arthur took several deep breathes before he pushed open the door to the warehouse. Stepping inside he looked for signs of Eames. The forger wasn't where they had left him and that worried the point man. There were many places to hide inside of the building, giving him a complete disadvantage. Carefully, he looked around, listening for sounds of movement.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned to brace himself for the attack. He didn't expect Eames to run at him, tackling him to the ground. The back of his head connected harshly with the cold concrete when he landed, causing his vision to go white with pain. He reached his hands out, pushing Eames away from him, the other man looked as if he were rabid, striking out, cursing and screaming. That was when Arthur noticed the bruise on the forger's neck and a pinpoint of blood. An injection site? He barely finished his thought before Eames punched him in the face, repeatedly.

He could feel blood running from his nose and mouth as he tried to reorient himself. Before he could fully recover, he felt the forger turning him over onto his stomach and that was when he felt coarse rope tying his wrists together. Arthur tried to struggle, but Eames used his weight and pressed the point man against the floor.

Arthur felt the circulation to his hands being cut off by how tightly the ropes bound him. He tried once more to force Eames off of him, but the other man grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed the side of his face against the ground. The point man was vaguely aware of the fact that he was bleeding from his temple.

"Eames," he tried to speak, the words coming out fragmented and choppy, "Eames, what are you doing?"

"Shut the fuck up!" the forger's body was heavy on top of Arthur's pressing all the air out of the younger man's lungs.

"Eames, stop!" Arthur forced out, trying to shift in a way to throw the other man off him. It wasn't working, "This isn't like you!"

For a moment, the point man felt as if the forger was about to move off him, his weight slightly shifting. But then the pain hit him, Eames delivering a hard, swift blow to his side causing him to cry out.

"You don't know shit about me! You and all your fucking analysis, acting like you're constantly in control of every single fucking thing!" the forger ranted and Arthur felt the other man's hands tugging at the waistband of his trousers , "Well, you're not in control right now. I am!"

"Eames, you're not in control of yourself!" Someone's done something to him.

The forger grabbed the point man's tie in one hand, harshly pulling it back, causing a strangled sound to escape from the younger man's throat. Suddenly, Arthur could feel the coldness of the floor touching his skin and his body registered the fact that Eames was pressing against him, he knew what was going to happen. He knew it was coming and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

Arthur felt his tie pressing into his throat and he tried to breathe around it, tried to struggle against it as he felt the forger's hand on his ass, spreading him open. He felt the tip of Eames' cock pushing against him and it caused his entire body to stiffen in panic. He tried to struggle harder, raking his brain for every escape tactic he could think of. But then Eames was trying to push into him, the lack of give making the entire process harder than perceived.

"Fuck," the forger swore before letting go of the point man's tie.

Arthur lay prone for a moment, feeling a sense of relief rush through him. The relief was short lived and the panic pushed its way back into his mind when he heard the other man spitting. He squirmed and tried to kick out when he felt the warm, slick saliva being applied to his opening.

"Eames," Arthur tried again, his voice coming out in a rasp, "Please, this isn't who you are."

"You don't know anything about me," the forger growled, yanking painfully on the younger man's hair. He pressed himself against the point man and a moan escaped his lips as he felt the tight ring of muscle give way to him, "Nothing at all."

Arthur cried out, screamed as Eames tore into him. He felt the pain hitting every part of him, knocking all sense out of him. Every movement the forger made felt more painful than the last and Arthur tried to keep his composure, telling himself that whoever this person was, it wasn't the Eames that he knew. Then the forger's body was on top of his, pushing his chest flush against the ground. The point man could feel Eames' breath right next to his face.

Even as he pulled at the rope tying his hands together, as he felt the tears of pain and sheer panic cutting trails down his face, Arthur breathed, "This isn't you."

He felt himself shutting down, receding back into his own mind to escape what was happening to his body. He was numb to the way Eames was thrusting into him, one hand holding his hip in a bruising grip. He hardly felt it when the other man's teeth marked his neck and shoulder. He didn't even register the fact that the forger had hit his climax, even though Arthur could hear him moaning in pleasure. It was when Eames pulled out and he felt himself being turned onto his back that his mind started to push him back into reality.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Eames asked, smiling in a way that Arthur had never seen before. In that moment, the point man saw that there was nothing of the forger he knew in those eyes, in that face.

The point man tried to move, but the forger straddled him, pinning him down. Then without a word, Arthur felt Eames' calloused, work worn hands around his throat. Slowly, those fingers were tightening, thumbs pressing against his airway. A part of him wanted to try and reason with the other man, but Arthur knew that it was futile. The man he knew wasn't there.

"It's okay," the point man forced out, feeling his windpipe slowly being crushed in Eames' well trained hands. He fully exhaled, feeling all the air rush out of his lungs and closed his eyes, waiting for death to take him, knowing there was no escaping.

"I knew you would just take it," Eames' voice washed over him as his body instinctively tried to fight for air, causing his back to arch up off the floor in an attempt to free himself, "I knew you would break."

Arthur felt his entire world closing in on him as pain faded from his body and numbness, coldness came in its place. As everything fell away, he heard someone in the distance screaming his name.

…~~~~…~~~~…

Eames couldn't understand what was happening. He felt hands grabbing at him. His back hit the floor and someone was on top of him, punching him in the face. He gave a startled cry before putting his hands up to defend himself.

"You sick bastard!"

"Cobb, don't!"

The forger felt the assault let up and took the opening to scramble to his feet and back as far away as possible from his assailant. His mind was starting to register the fact that the person attacking him had been Dominic Cobb. He was trying to wrap his mind around that fact when he began to realize that something wasn't right. Looking down at himself, he realized he was indecently exposed and stained with blood. He quickly covered himself, embarrassment and incomprehension burning through him.

"You better not make a single move," the extractor's voice was filled with anger.

Confusion hit Eames full force. He couldn't fully grasp the scene in front of him as he looked beyond the infuriated look Cobb's face. He saw Ariadne, kneeling beside someone who was being covered by the architect's coat. He took in the young woman's torn shirt and a violent image flashed in his mind, an image of his hands tearing at Ariadne's clothes.

"No," he whispered to himself as things slowly started to fall into place in his mind.

Then the forger realized who it was laying there on the floor, unconscious and looking so broken. He realized it was Arthur and, as realization hit, the missing moments that lead up to Cobb's assault began to fill in the blanks.

"No. No," Eames repeated the word over until he was screaming it, "No!"

He tried to make his way to the unmoving point man, but Cobb blocked his path, holding him back. He tried to fight his way through, needing to know how bad the damage was, but the extractor held strong, forcing him away. Then he was on his knees, guilt overwhelming him.

"I couldn't have!" the forger cried, a burning, awful panic building in his chest.

"You need to leave right now, Eames," Cobb said drawing his gun from his holster, voice still filled with anger, but holding a calmer tone, "I want you get out of my sight and if you come anywhere near any of us ever again, I will kill you myself."

Eames had no choice. He ran, the ache inside of him hurting so bad he felt tears on his face as he disappeared into the dark night.

…~~~~…~~~~…

"It wasn't his fault," Arthur said, his voice hoarse and low, "I know it wasn't."

"His actions are unforgivable!" Cobb exclaimed, pacing the private room the point man had been situated in, "You're really going to say that it's not his fault?"

"Dom," the younger man's voice, though broken was firm, "There was a puncture mark on his neck. The bruising was recent, perhaps only an hour or so before he showed up. Someone did something to him."

The extractor raked a hand through his hair, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of Arthur's mouth. The point man had been out for two whole days and the moment he woke his only question had been about Eames. Yet now, Arthur was putting a new perspective on what had happened that night, changing the chain of events. Eames' intentions were now put in doubt.

"We need to clear it up," Arthur said, trying to push himself up from his makeshift hospital bed in Cobb's hotel room.

"No," Cobb place a gentle but firm hand on the point man's chest, pushing him back down, "I'll deal with this. You focus on getting better."

…~~~~…~~~~…

Tracking Eames was harder done that said. Cobb worked for a full two weeks before he was able to confirm where the forger was. The extractor finally tracked the man down at a run down motel in the middle of bum fuck nowhere down in Mississippi. When he knocked on the door, he wasn't expecting anyone to answer, but Eames cracked the door open and stared out at him.

"What are you doing here?" the forger's voice showed his confusion.

"We need to talk," Cobb said, placing a hand on the door, trying it open further, "Do you have a moment?"

Eames looked back into the room before nodding, "As long as you don't mind me finishing some business."

The extractor stepped inside when Eames moved away from the door. The sight that greeted him had not been something he had been expecting. There was a man tied to a chair, his fingers obviously broken. The forger waved for Cobb to close the door, which the other man did.

"What is this?" the extractor asked, leaning against the closed door.

Eames took a deep breath before settling on the rickety bed, "This here is Larry. He used to be a good friend of mine. Now, I'm torturing him for information."

"Information about what?"

"About what they did to me two weeks ago."

Cobb studied Larry's face, noting the look of absolute fear and horror in the man's eyes. He averted his gaze when Eames lit up a cigarette, slowly sucking in the smoke and tar before exhaling just as slowly.

"How's Arthur?" the forger asked.

"Better than he was when he first woke."

"I'm glad he's alright."

"You really did a number on him."

"I didn't want to hurt him."

"Then why did you?"

Eames nodded to the tied up man, "That's what I've been trying to get out of him."

Cobb gave the forger a puzzled look.

"They did something to me," Eames explained, taking another drag from his cigarette as he got to his feet and approached the bound man, "They did something to me and it made me lose myself."

Larry shook his head, crying into his gag. The man struggled against the ropes holding him in place, frantic and out of his mind with fright. The forger stood for a moment, staring down at the person he used to call his friend, before taking his cigarette and putting it out on the other man's neck. The man screamed and screamed.

"Are you at least going to let him talk?" Cobb asked, still trying to ignore the scene before him.

"That may be a good idea," Eames replied, leaning down to face level with Larry and pulling off the gag, "Talk."

"Please! Please, let me go!" were the only words that came out of his captive's mouth, each syllable whimpered and choked on.

The forger slapped the man, silencing him, "Now you listen to me. I've already gone through Eugene, Greg and Brad. They all pointed me to you. You had better start explaining what the fuck you did to be before I start lopping off your fingers and toes."

"We drugged you!" the words came rushing out of Larry's mouth, "I don't know what was in it! The guy just said it'd make you a little crazy and aggressive… and… oh god, please. Please, let me go!"

"Who supplied it to you?" The forger sounded as if he were running out of patience. "Who?"

"I d-don't know his name! He said it was illegal and that he'd kill me if I told anyone how I got the stuff! I don't know!"

"You're a fucking coward and a disgrace."

"Please, I'm begging you. Please," Larry's words became whimpers filled with despair and utter weakness, "Please. I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough."

Cobb stood there, almost afraid that Eames would kill the man. Instead the forger drew his gun and smashed the butt of the handle against the back of Larry's head, knocking him out. Eames took a deep breath and rubbed his temples with his hand, looking exhausted.

"Well, there's your fucking story," the forger said as he sat down on the bed once more, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head hung, "Are we done?"

The extractor raked a hand through his hair, not sure of how to perceive what had just happened, but he knew one thing for sure: Arthur was right. He's always right, Cobb thought with a sigh. He gazed at Eames, seeing just how tired and worn out the other man looked. He gave himself a moment before he spoke, "Arthur would like to see you."

Eames gave a bitter laugh, "I'm not sure I can face him."

"He knew your actions weren't your own. He never doubted you. The least you can do is go and see him after all that has happened."

"I'll try. I'm not making any promises."

…~~~~…~~~~…

Eames sat in his car, staring at the house that Cobb had directed him to. He kept staring at the door, hoping that if he could just see Arthur, he would be able to get out of his car and finally do what he had came to do. He had been waiting for hours, but no one came out, not even to pick up the morning paper. Maybe he's not home. As those words flashed through his mind, he saw the door open and he sat up in his seat, craning his neck to see.

Arthur, dressed in slacks and a t-shirt, walked out and picked up the paper that had landed on his doorstep hours earlier. He also went down to his mailbox and picked up the mail. Then the point man stopped, standing there on the walkway, almost as if he sensed someone was watching him. After several long moments, Arthur finally headed back indoors.

Eames exhaled, not knowing he had been holding his breath the whole time. His heart had clenched in his chest when he realized that Arthur had been limping, just a bit, but it made that guilt, that terrible pain, flare up inside of him again. That feeling made him hesitate, even as he reached for the handle of the door to get out. He breathed and remembered what Cobb said. He never doubted you.

I owe him an apology. I owe him at least that much. The forger told himself as he took a deep breath and opened the door, making his way across the street and up the walkway to Arthur's front door. He stood on the porch, his mind forgetting how to simply knock to make his presence known. He almost backpedaled, a part of him already telling him to run away, to keep this interaction from happening.

When the door suddenly opened, Eames jumped, startled. He wanted to avert his gaze, but Arthur was standing there, looking so calm and almost glad, and he couldn't. Instead he closed his eyes and the words came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them or think them through, "I'm so sorry."

The point man nodded and silently beckoned the forger to enter his home by stepping away from the entrance and walking back inside. Eames followed, closing the door behind him. He followed the younger man into his living room, where two cups of coffee had been set down on the coffee table.

"You knew I was coming," Eames said, watching as Arthur sat down on the loveseat.

"Cobb gave me a heads up," the point man answered, waving for the forger to sit by him, "That and I saw you sitting out there for the past few hours. I was wondering when you would actually come talk to me."

Eames hesitantly slid into the free spot on the loveseat, "How can you speak to me as if I didn't do something completely unforgivable?"

"Because I know it wasn't your fault."

The forger watched as Arthur picked up one of the mugs from the table and took a long sip. His eyes scanned the healing stitches on the other man's temple and the fading bruises around his eyes from nearly having his nose broken. He observed the healing red marks on the younger man's wrists and the way the point man's hands shook, just ever so slightly, hardly visible to the untrained eye, as he set the mug back down.

"A part of you is afraid of me," Eames stated.

"Not afraid," Arthur countered, "Just a little traumatized. It's the same reaction any other person would have to what happened."

"I almost killed you."

"What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

"Arthur, how can you stand to be so close to me? How can you be talking to me as if I were an old friend? If I had been in your position, I'd keep as far away as possible. I wouldn't even entertain the idea of forgiveness."

"You don't want to be forgiven?"

Eames was struck silent for a long moment by that question, "I would do anything for your forgiveness."

"Eames," the point man reached out, putting his hand over the forger's. Eames could feel the slightest tremble as those fingers touched the back of his hand, "I forgive you."

A dam broke inside of Eames from those words alone and he gripped Arthur's hand in his, unable to stop the tears from coming and the words from tumbling out of his mouth over and over again, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

And even though the forger felt the stiffness in the younger man's actions, Arthur pulled him into a tight hug, whispering in his ear, "It's okay. Everything's okay now."

…~~~~…~~~~…

Note: That took way too long to write. I'm thinking of a sequel to chronicle what happens after this interaction and to start developing more of a relationship with them. Hopefully it makes for an interesting story. Thank you for reading!