The ceiling was beyond her reach, even if she stood on the narrow bed that was bolted securely to one wall. A toilet that automatically flushed itself once a day sat in the corner opposite the door. There was no light, no window, nothing but darkness so black that her eyes saw blurs of faded colors.
Meals were brought to her twice a day, a bland platter slid through a three inch high slot in the door. Every fourteenth meal was laced with a sedative; when she woke, her clothes were fresh and her hair was damp.
It had been a long time since she'd first waken captive in this prison. She had not been told where she was, or why she was there, though she had suspicions. She had not seen or heard another human being, only the regularly brought food let her know that she had not just been abandoned.
A full year had passed, though she had no way of knowing that. At first she'd tried to keep a calendar, marking the passage of days in her head. But with no way to make a physical record, it became impossible to remember the day or date.
Now, for the first time, the door opened while she was awake. The sudden light flooding the room effectively blinded her, but she heard the sound of a body ungracefully hitting the floor. The door creaked shut, and the light disappeared.
Blinking against the spots that danced before her eyes, she felt along the ground until she found the person that had been thrown in the cell with her. The deep groan that came from her touch told her that it was a man.
"Are you all right?" she asked slowly, not having talked to anyone but herself for a long time. Thinking that she had hurt him, perhaps touching a bruised area, she removed her hand from what she assumed was his arm.
"I'm fine," he responded roughly, rolling away from her. The scrape of fabric and a faint sense of movement told her that he was sitting up. "Where are we?"
She didn't answer, her mind swept into a dizziness of memory triggered by his voice.
"Hello?" he said after a moment of silence. "Are you still there?"
She breathed a laugh, not daring to hope. "Mulder?"
He sat in shock for a moment, then whispered her name, "Scully." Reaching through the dark, he found her similarly questing hands, and pulled her to him. Hugging her tightly, he murmured her name over and over in a prayer of gratitude.
"I knew they'd taken you," he said finally. "You were the first."
With her cheek pressed against his shoulder, Scully ran her hand along his chest, searching for verification that this man truly was Mulder. And her fingers found it...a round scar caused by a bullet from a gun that she had fired. She looked up at him, more from habit than need. "Colonization?"
Mulder nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him. "The beginning, at least. People like us, the ones who could expose the plans, began dropping out of sight. Most were taken, but there's an underground started."
"The Lone Gunmen?" Scully smiled, thinking of the trio of paranoid friends.
"Byers and his wife got out in time. Langley was out of town...no one knows if he made it or not." He stopped, and Scully recognized the catch in his voice.
"Frohike?" she asked softly, knowing the news would not be welcome.
"Shot in the back," Mulder said flatly. He didn't mention how he had been with Frohike at the time, how he had been the one the shooters were aiming for, or how he had been forced to leave his friend dying in the corridor. He felt Scully's hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped his notice. "Sure is dark in here," he commented.
Realizing his need to change the subject, Scully shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
The next food tray that came held two meals on it, the food as tasteless as ever. Mulder made the accurate observation that it was worse than hospital food, of which he was an expert.
Night, or what they assumed was it, found them sharing the narrow bunk, sleeping on their sides, curled against each other so that both would fit. "What would Mom say," Scully murmured, shifting to a slightly less awkward position.
Behind her, Mulder chuckled, and contentedly inhaled the scent of her hair. It was different from what he remembered, but it still held that unique smell that belonged to her and her alone. "I think she would ask what took us so long." He was quiet for a moment, then answered Scully's unasked question, "It was hard for her at first, but she's doing all right."
"Thank you, Mulder," Scully said. "I needed to know, but I was afraid..."
"I know," he replied, gently kissing the back of her head. "Sleep, now, my Scully."
'Morning' came, dark as always. They talked, Mulder catching her up on latest events in the world outside, Scully telling him about her fears and realizations.
"You saved me," she told him firmly. "It wouldn't have been much longer before I went insane."
"No," he denied her statement. "You're stronger than that. I don't know why They have you like this, or why They brought me here. But I know that you're strong enough to take anything They dish out."
"I hope so."
That night, as she lay in his arms, she confessed, "I love you."
Grinning in delight, he touched her cheek. Finding her mouth with his fingers, he knew that she was smiling too. "Oh, Scully," he whispered. "I've loved you since the moment you walked into my office, innocent and beautiful."
The days, inseparable from the nights, blended together with the same routine as before. But now Scully had a hope that she'd almost lost. For, although imprisoned by thick walls, and shrouded with darkness, she was not alone. One year passed, and for only the second time that Scully knew of, the door opened.
The bright light blinded them both, searing their eyes with its intensity. Someone entered, heavy footsteps sounding against the floor. Scully grasped Mulder's hand firmly, not knowing what was about to happen. Surely they wouldn't add another person to the small cell?
Mulder felt a pair of strong hands close around his arms. "No!" he cried out in realization, as they pulled him away from her. "Scully!"
"Mulder?" she screamed, frightened beyond belief. As he was dragged out of the room, she lunged after him desperately, squinting against the light. "Mulder!" But another pair of hands held her back.
She was released suddenly, but before she could move, the door slammed shut, and the darkness returned.
--end--
About the Author:
Orianna is one of three pen-names used by the author, who is now giving up pen-names and writing under "Orianna". She has been writing for twelve years and has several stories linked to Ori's Singularity.