4. Ceara

The grating of the metal chair against my battered body grew more painful with each passing second.

The world spun around me as the machine whirred to life.

Each rotation was a jolt to my senses, a test to my willpower.

The smell of heated metal and ozone filled the room, overwhelming my already spinning senses.

I gritted my teeth, sweat pooling at the base of my neck.

The nauseating taste of the truth serum still lingered at the back of my throat, threatening to rise.

My heart pounded in my chest, a staccato rhythm against the swirling room.

I concentrated on my breath, steadying it against the onslaught of my swirling surroundings.

It was more difficult to resist this time.

The images on the holo-screen were still blurry and disjointed, just out of my reach.

I could feel the strain of my mind trying to decipher them, the headache building behind my eyes.

The Supervisor's voice echoed in my ears, an incessant drone of:

"What do you see, Ceara?"

But I fought back, retreating into the corners of my mind, away from the intrusion of the truth serum.

Thankfully, I could still reply with the same answer:

"Nothing."

I gripped the chair tightly, my knuckles turning white under the strain.

All of it served to ground me, to keep me present even as I fought to stay away from the forefront of my consciousness.

I fought until I couldn't anymore, until the darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, and I succumbed to unconsciousness.

When I came to, I was met with the sight of the Supervisor yelling at the Scientist.

His booming voice echoed around the room.

I squinted, determinedly blinking the blurry images into unfocus.

I didn't want to see those images on the holo-screen.

Whatever purpose the Supervisor wanted me for, it could not be for anything good, and every day that I managed to resist him was a victory.

The Scientist looked even more frantic with his round goggle-like glasses, his many hands flitting nervously around the machine.

I watched as the Supervisor's anger grew, his large form looming over the Scientist, his voice reaching a fever pitch.

It was clear that he wasn't getting what he wanted, and he was far from pleased.

A cold dread settled in my gut.

If the Supervisor didn't get what he wanted from me soon, he was going to take drastic action.

I had no illusions about what that meant for me.

Perhaps he would decide I wasn't worth the trouble and have me executed.

The thought should have terrified me, but instead, it brought a strange sense of relief.

After all, who would mourn the death of a captive alien?

Who would care if I disappeared from existence?

I was alone, completely and utterly alone.

And maybe that was for the best.

Maybe death was the release I had been unknowingly yearning for.

As the guards came to haul me back to my cell, I let myself slump in their arms.

I was exhausted, drained of all energy.

The thought of Ellie waiting in the cell brought a strange comfort, a glimmer of humanity in this desolate place.

But for how much longer could I hold on?

* * *

Thrown back into my cell,the harsh tang of blood stinging my nostrils, I could hear the distant clanging of the cell door shutting behind me.

A sharp pang of agony erupted from my side where fresh wounds were torn open again.

"Ceara, you can't keep doing this," Ellie's voice rang out in the sterile room.

She moved like a whirlwind, bringing out the medical equipment with practiced ease. "You can't heal if they keep reopening your wounds."

Her words cut through the foggy haze of pain in my mind, and I watched her as she worked.

Her deft fingers probed the torn skin around my wounds, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle.

The stark fluorescent lighting in our cell did nothing to diminish her beauty.

Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face.

Her skin was a warm, sun-kissed hue that seemed to glow against the metallic sterility of our surroundings.

Her features were soft yet determined, a clear reflection of her strong will and stubborn spirit.

Up close, her eyes were even more entrancing.

They were a unique shade of green, flecked with gold and brown.

They were full of worry and determination as they focused on the task at hand.

As she worked, the scent of her filled my senses.

It was a scent that had begun to fill my dreams and memories.

My mind kept pulling me back to our Distant Vision — her pregnant and radiant, us on a beach somewhere far, far from here.

The thought sent a strange flutter through my chest, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through me.

Was it even possible?

Could we ever have a future outside of this cell?

The question hung heavily in the silent cell, pressing down on me.

I found myself admiring her, taking in her strength and resilience.

She was here in this hellhole, yet she was doing everything she could to keep us both alive.

There was a beauty to her determination, a fierce light that refused to be dimmed even in the face of the most dire circumstances.

A strange excitement built within me as she leaned closer to examine my wounds.

I felt my heart rate increase, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the fever brought on by my wounds.

But I pushed it down, tamping down the strange emotions that threatened to rise.

Now was not the time for such feelings.

Survival was our main focus.

Yet as Ellie continued to work, her touch gentle on my battered skin, I couldn't help but wonder.

Could there be more for us beyond these cell walls?

Could our Distant Vision become our reality?

And as Ellie's soft voice filled the silence of our cell, providing a soothing background to the sharp sting of the needle on my skin, I found myself hoping.

For a future beyond the pain, beyond the experiments.

For a future with Ellie.

It was a dangerous thought, a spark of hope in the crushing darkness.

But it was a thought I held onto, a beacon that guided me through the agonizing pain and the numbing exhaustion.

Because in this bleak reality, Ellie was my ray of hope, the promise of a future worth fighting for.

Pain rippled through my body, a constant reminder of the trials I had been put through.

Each breath I drew was a battle fought and won, a tiny victory in the grand scheme of my life.

Yet, as I lay there on the cot, my eyes met Ellie's, and I found myself reaching out.

It was an instinct, a primal need to connect with another being.

My hand, heavy and unsteady, moved to cup her face.

Her skin was soft, warm.

Her eyes, wide and questioning, searched mine as my fingertips brushed her cheek, a gesture so intimate that it felt almost out of place amidst our harsh reality.

"You're… burning up," she murmured, her gaze flickering to the clammy sheen of sweat on my forehead.

Her words were fraught with worry, yet there was a certain softness in her voice that made my heart ache.

I couldn't help but study her face, taking in every detail.

Her high cheekbones, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the furrow of her brows as she looked at me with concern.

And her eyes, those striking green eyes that held so much emotion and resilience, they were a sight I'd grown fond of in our Distant Vision.

My hand remained on her soft cheek.

"What are you doing, Ceara?" she finally asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I wished I could give her an answer, something to ease the confusion in her eyes.

But how could I explain the inexplicable pull I felt towards her, the yearning for a connection that went beyond our shared circumstances?

"I… I need to…" I started, my words failing me.

I couldn't articulate the strange mix of emotions coursing through me, the potent mix of longing, admiration, and an underlying current of something more… something deeper.

Her eyes held mine, a silent question hanging between us.

I could see the flicker of understanding there, the dawning realization of what was happening.

Our situation was bizarre to say the least, and yet here we were, two souls in the middle of a war zone, finding comfort in each other's presence.

And then, she was packing away the medical equipment, her hands moving in quick, flustered movements.

The moment was broken, the tension shattered by the reality of our situation.

I pulled my hand back, the loss of her warmth leaving a chill in its wake.

We were two prisoners, trapped in a cell, forced into circumstances beyond our comprehension.

Our shared visions, our budding connection, they were beacons of hope in our bleak existence.

But they were also reminders of the dire reality of our situation.

Yet as Ellie moved away, the flustered look on her face a mirror of my own inner turmoil, I couldn't help but hold on to that fleeting moment of connection.

It was a glimmer of what could be, a spark of hope amidst the darkness.

And as I drifted off into a fitful sleep, my body wracked with pain and exhaustion, my mind kept going back to that moment.

Her soft skin under my fingertips, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of confusion and understanding, the shared silence that spoke volumes…

It was a powerful moment, one that would stay with me long after the pain subsided.

It was a reminder that despite the pain, the experiments, and the uncertainty of our future, there was something worth fighting for.

A connection, a possibility of a future… with Ellie.

* * *

The cell felt even colderwithout Ellie's presence.

After the guards had taken her, an unsettling silence had settled, the absence of her soft voice echoing loudly in my ears.

Before they had come, we'd been exchanging stories of our homes.

"Earth," she'd said with a longing sigh, "is a planet of diverse landscapes and cultures."

She told me of sprawling cities with towering structures touching the sky, of lush green forests, and of vast oceans that stretched out to the horizon.

I listened with rapt attention as she described Earth's food, its people, and its ways of life.

In turn, I told her about my world, Varonis.

How our two suns bathed our lands in a constant warm glow.

The towering spires of Amarith City, made from gleaming crystalfire.

The smell of Zaphor blossoms that filled the air during the season of Veilfall, and the haunting melodies of the Valdrin, our sacred songs.

I spoke of the grand library in Veridant where scholars studied ancient texts and of the Great Gathering where every tribe came together in a colorful celebration of unity.

"Sounds beautiful," Ellie had murmured, her eyes shining with a curious light. "I'd love to see it someday."

"Me too," I'd replied, the pang of nostalgia so acute, it was almost physical.

We were both trapped in a cell, miles away from home.

Our only solace lay in these stories, fragments of our worlds we held onto, our very own pieces of home.

That's when the metallic clang of the cell door had jolted us out of our shared reverie.

The guards, their menacing figures filling the doorway, sent a shiver down my spine.

I'd expected them to come for me, but to my surprise and growing alarm, they'd moved towards Ellie.

Ellie's eyes had widened, fear sparking within their emerald depths as the guards advanced.

We shared a look, a silent exchange that held all the questions we didn't have the courage to voice.

Why are you taking her?

What are you going to do to her?

I felt a surge of anger, a raw, primal need to protect her from the unknown.

Yet, I was powerless, bound by the confines of this cell.

As they led her away, I reached out, my fingers brushing hers in a fleeting touch.

It was an unspoken promise, a reassurance that I was here, that I wouldn't let her face this alone.

Now, as I sat alone in the chilling silence, my thoughts raced.

What was happening to Ellie?

Would they subject her to the same torment I had endured?

The thought made my blood run cold.

But no, I thought. She could not Blink.

She did not possess the same unique ability of my people.

All I could do was wait, the uncertainty a cruel tormentor.

And as the minutes turned into hours, the cell grew colder, the silence more deafening.

Yet, through the anxiety and fear, my thoughts kept going back to our shared stories, the fragments of our worlds we'd given each other.

It was a small comfort, a beacon of hope in the looming darkness.

I clung to that hope, praying to the twin suns of Varonis that Ellie would return safe.

For now, all I had was her stories, the echo of her voice filling the cell, and the warmth of her touch still lingering on my fingers.

A piece of Earth and a piece of her, reminding me of what I had to fight for.