Disclaimer: WA3 and all related so's and such's don't belong to me.

A/N: I wanted to write a story that was more than just love-love-love-dove-dove-kiss. I wanted one that would actually show something more about the characters. So, therefore, this.

Pairings: Standard canon Jet x Virginia.

For the Darkness

"It's too dark in here."

"It is."

She turned, but could not fathom whether she was facing the wall or facing him. The space between them was too large and too dark. The walls were too high and too wide apart for his voice not to echo, no matter how soft and reluctant it was. It bounced off every rock and stone, loud and clear and vibrant. From the silence that followed, she figured that he was surprised at its volume too. He so much hated to talk, after all. "It is?" she repeated, to the wall. "Is that all you have to say?"

She could hear his hesitance, and then, "That, and we're going to die."

She left herself no time to answer, blurting out the first stray thought that came to her mind – her rush and torrent and squall of thoughts. She didn't want to think of that yet, or of the darkness that kept out the light and was keeping out the air. She didn't want to think of life, or the lack of such. "Where are you, Jet? I don't know where you are."

"Here." He said at first, but he must have realized that his answer provided little insight, for he added, "I'm in a corner, by a heap of some…thing." His voice trailed off when his fingers brushed against the 'something' to find the familiar contours of a flesh-eaten cheekbone, jaw and empty sockets. His hand caught on something brittle and sharp, when he tried to tug again the skeleton came crashing into a heap.

Virginia smelled a grimy dust rise into the air. "What was that? Where are you?" She stood up and fell down, letting out a cry before she could stop herself. Then, she was thankful for the darkness to hide her wince and her flinch. Desperately, she calmed herself and willed her mouth not to gasp. It would waste air, and they would need that air soon. It was not entirely hers either. Jet would need it too.

Ignoring the solidness of death and of age behind him, Jet rose to his feet and stared ahead into the darkness. "You're hurt," and it was a statement. "Where are you?"

Oh, no no no! She couldn't have anyone worrying about her! What good of a leader would she be if she needed someone to worry about her? The one who did the worrying would be she alone! Hadn't she caused enough trouble already, she reasoned, by accepting the mission that stranded them here in this soon-to-be airless room? It wouldn't have been so bad if she was alone, but she had put her comrade in danger!

With more force, "Virginia?"

"I'm not hurt."

"You are." His voice was a rare thing to hear, almost always so reassured and confident. It never missed a beat, and she had only heard it falter in the Leyline Observatory. "I saw something fall on your leg before the ceiling crashed down in the hall, before the light went out."

She was silent. He was watching her? Maybe he would make a better leader then, if he could keep an eye out for everyone. She had been too busy watching the stones fall to realize that Clive and Gallows were still behind and that the barricade would separate them. "It's just a little scratch. I snagged it on something when I stood, that's all." She said, solemnly. Her finger touched her raw ankle searchingly and she bit deep into her lip to halt her wail.

He scoffed. "Where are you, Virginia? It'd be better to find you anyway."

"Why?" she asked, looking up into the dark.

"Because then we can find a way to break out." came the answer, matter-of-factly. He paused, and added, "Or at least we won't be too far apart when…well, the point is that we'd be better off closer together."

She almost heard his voice stumble. "I'm near the south wall, I think. Somewhere along the south wall. Be careful and don't trip over me." she teased, feeling her heart grow lighter at the prospect of companionship. Always, she felt safer if there was someone near, because there was nothing worse than to be alone. "Oh!" A gloved hand brushed across the top of her palm and she clung to it desperately. When something hit her shoulder, she came to her senses and dropped the hand quickly. "I didn't expect you to be able to find me so quickly."

There came no answer.

"Hello?" she chanced, reaching out to her side to find her fingers touching soft and wind-blown hair. A small groan came from her left and she turned instinctively, reaching out and grasping his wrists carefully. "Are you alright?" she said to the darkness.

"You made me ram my face into your shoulder." He huffed. "I think you broke my nose." Jet shuffled and seated himself beside her. His arm brushed against hers and they both leaned against the wall in silent acknowledgement. It was enough, for the time being, to know that someone was there. It was enough, at least, to calm both their fearful hearts and to make the pain in Virginia's ankle subside into a dull ache.

Finally, Virginia shook her head and whispered, "We won't die." She felt his gaze rest on her, though she couldn't see it. Her cheeks flared violent red at the sudden attention. "I mean…" she muttered, "Gallows…and Clive, they'll come, of course. They said they were going to get help, and they'll come in time. So…" Shakily, she patted around the floor until she found his hand, which she then also patted. "So, no more talk about dying or anything, because we're not going to die yet."

He let out an amused sigh. It sounded somewhat like laughter or somewhat like cynicism, but there was such a contrast in that sound than to all his sulky, mulling words beforehand that she found herself smiling. "If you say so."

She grinned smugly to the shadows. "It's good to see you're listening to my leadership advice at least. Better than having you roll your eyes or 'hmph' at everything. I guess you've realized that what I say actually has merit, haven't you?"

"It's too dark. You wouldn't know if I were rolling my eyes or not."

"Well then, are you?"

"No." he conceded, "But I think that Clive would've made a better leader than you. Gallows is too much of an idiot to make a good anything, other than a slacker and a shameless womanizer. You would've made a better lackey or something."

She felt her temper blare into her ears, pounding away the silence and the distant dripping of water. She bristled and ruffled and felt her skin grow warm with anger. "Is that what you think? Well, I think I'd make a better leader if I didn't have to put up with uncooperative party members who are absolute scrooges! Maybe then we'd get farther faster. I certainly wouldn't have to waste time trying to reason any sense into those people's thick skulls. We'd definitely make some progress then!"

He realized it, of course, the way her mood changed so quickly. Unconsciously, he leaned and shuffled a little way from her, as if to avoid her wrath. "Don't get angry."

"Why not?" she shot back indignantly.

"Because you're wasting air."

That silenced her, and she cooled as fast as a hot poker in ice water. For this, he found himself surprised. She had certainly acted like a leader, putting her own emotions behind her responsibility. To subdue her anger so quickly in the face of a threat to her life and to her comrade's – that was quite a show of responsibility. For this, he shrugged and said, "Well, don't get yourself worked up. It's not that you're a horrible leader anyway."

"Really?" Her voice was laced with incredulity.

"Yes."

She stared in his direction, awestricken. "That was…the first kind thing I'd ever heard from your mouth." Cheerful once again, she moved beside him so that their shoulders were pushed comfortably against each other's. She felt herself warm and cozy with someone to share the hours with, no matter how few or how long the number would be. Sharing it with him wasn't the worse option either, after all.

He must have rolled his eyes again. "I don't have much to say kind things about."

Because he really wasn't some moping, complaining, silent brat. He had saved their skin enough times to confirm his position in their group. Though he never said much to contribute, he had never said anything to take away. When he spoke, he used blunt and truthful words that were not always the kindest, but hardly false. Perhaps, he had a reason for not talking, for not assimilating or becoming one of them fully. Perhaps, it was because he didn't know himself well enough to be willing to know others.

She patted his hand, but thought that wasn't enough and squeezed it reassuringly afterwards. To the darkness, because it was so much easier to the darkness, she said, "That's alright, because we can always make memories to say kind things about." Her chest began rising higher as she took in each breath. They had been there for a few hours already, and she could feel the thinning of air around her. "Having no memories doesn't mean you won't ever have any. We'll make memories for you to have."

For a moment, he neither moved nor breathed because he did not move the slightest against her arm. Suddenly, he said, "We're not going to have much time to make memories at this rate." His voice was so heavy. It made her heart fall down to her stomach where it stayed and beat ever so painfully. He gave a joyless laugh that echoed throughout the room. "So I guess you're a little wrong there."

She frowned at him, but knew that it went unheeded. "Don't talk about that."

He heard the uneasiness in her voice and the denial of inevitability. He decided that he wouldn't spur on her fears, as being fearful of death did no good in its face. He felt her move closer to him, her arm pressed firmly against his own. She did not move away, and neither did he. Finally, after quite a while of silence, he returned to safer subjects. With a half-smile, "Your old man talked about you a lot."

She turned to him. "Tell me about him."

The situation was very strange, a daughter asking a would-be son about her father.

Unused to the attention and the invitation to speak, he looked at the dark floor awkwardly. "Well, he would always say how he had this real nice family back home – one wife and one daughter, and how he was really sad to leave them. But he said he couldn't go back, even though knowing that his wife was sick ate at him all day, because it would be better that way." Jet smiled, eyes glazed over at recalling the few memories he had. "Your old man's a really nice guy, you know? Treated me like his son and everything."

Virginia smiled sadly. "He was. Is that all he said?"

"Actually…" His voice trailed over and she could feel his embarrassment.

"Actually?"

"Actually, he told me something else…about you."

"About me?" she prompted, incredulous. She leaned closer, as his words were becoming almost a faint whisper. Curiosity blocked her senses from the time being, but Jet felt embarrassed enough for both of them. Her breath was fanning the side of his face; she must not have realized their proximity without the light. He wished desperately he could move away, but she was leaning on him and if he did, she would fall.

He nodded, a great sense of relief overwhelming him as Virginia sat back on her knees. "Right. He said you weren't really the most lady-like of girls, said you always wanted him to teach you how to shoot a gun instead of acting like your mother. He said you laughed too loudly for a girl, walked too proudly for a girl, and was a little too good at sharpshooting for a girl. He said he was most sorry to leave you behind, because then your mother would actually turn you into a lady, which he was afraid you would've hated."

Virginia punched him lightly. "You're teasing me!"

Jet smiled, but only in the darkness where she couldn't see. "I'm not. That's what your father said. So I guess this means that it was true? You must've been one of those girls that all the boys were afraid of. They must have run away whenever you came."

Another punch. "You are teasing! I was perfectly ladylike!"

"Whatever you say."

She never answered him. Instead, her hand rested on his arm and didn't falter. She seemed to be waiting for something, or thinking of something. Nevertheless, he left her alone until her voice cut through the thick and impending shadows. Air was becoming harder to breathe. His lungs were beginning to grow tired and the edges of weariness tugged at his consciousness. "Jet." She said, from what seemed like far away. She was very cautious. "Are you smiling?"

His answer was instinct. "No."

"Oh." Disappointment laced her voice. "It sounded like you were."

"You can't 'sound' like you're smiling."

"Of course you can." Virginia answered brightly. "When you're smiling, your voice is happier, and when you're not, your voice is sadder, like yours is now." She paused and trilled, "I'm smiling, see? Can't you hear it in my voice?"

Jet hesitated and heard her voice clear and crisp. It was not smiling. "No, you're not."

"Yes I am. If you could see, or you could feel my mouth."

He blushed furiously at the implications of that suggestion. "You're not smiling." He said, quickly. "Because your voice isn't happy at all. Because you're scared right now and you don't have to hide it. Don't worry, you said, but there's a perfect reason to worry. Aren't you tired? Air is running out and we might die. Don't try, because it's harder to try and hide it. Just accept it and wait. There are only two things that can happen right now, and we don't have power over either of them. Either we're rescued, or we're not."

She was as silent as death.

"Virginia?" For a moment, he was afraid she would crumble, but his knowledge of her destroyed that idea immediately. Virginia was much too strong, too independent and too strong-willed. She would never fall, even if circumstances were pulling her apart inside. Sometimes, she would crack, but when that happened she made sure that no one saw her. It was dark, and it was dreary and only sound could prevail in this room, so he supposed that she was probably cracking. He couldn't see her, after all.

"Why did you have to say that?" she asked, deadpan.

"Because it had to be said sooner or later. And you weren't going to say it."

She turned away from him. Her presence left its place beside him and he felt a sudden chill blast his lonely shoulder. He stiffened and looked ahead as she said bluntly, "We shouldn't talk anymore." The soles of her shoes scraped across the stone floor as she made herself comfortable somewhere away from him. The mask was gone, and everything was being poured out of her from her voice. All that falseness and dwindling hope was wisping away with her syllables. "It's wasting air."

He hadn't the will or the alertness to argue.

The hours began to pass, but very slowly. In all truth, neither knew if it was hours or minutes or seconds or days that passed at all. They had lost track after they became too tired to count. Struggling, they sought to keep themselves awake, knowing deep inside the recesses of their mind that to fall asleep here would be to drop into an eternal slumber. Without light, or company, sound or warmth, the walls became astoundingly cold. Jet heard Virginia shuffle every so often, but he dared not approach her.

"Don't go to sleep." He said once, to break the deafening silence.

"I'm not."

Virginia, on the other hand, was finding herself very lonely without a shoulder to fall back upon or a hand to reassure. At the moment, it was she who needed reassurance, but she had turned it away and hadn't the courage to call it back again. She opened her mouth and found her throat coarse and dry. Without success, she closed it again and waited.

"I'm going to come sit near you." Jet said suddenly.

"O…Okay." She said, as the sound of cloth scrapping across stone filled her ears.

He crawled over to her in a matter of a few seconds, and before he could settle down, she lurched forward at him. They were both bowled over on to the floor and Jet drew in a breath as his back hit the bluntness of the ground with force. It knocked the wind out of him, and it took a few moments for his mind to register what had happened and his back to loosen. He opened his eyes, wide and surprised and accustomed to the dark enough to see, to find Virginia's face looming over his face. Her hair was falling over her shoulder on to his shoulder.

Blood rushed up into his ears. "What are you doing?"

"I need to tell you something, before…before…well, I need to tell you something." Her face seemed to be emanating heat. In the dark, he could see that her eyes were wild and bright, never showing a trace of defeat. She rolled off of him and allowed him to straighten. They sat, side by side for a moment before she continued. Her breathing was a little labored, as was his, but both doubted if it was because of the air. To hell with the damned air, if it didn't allow them to talk in this wretched place. "I want you to know something."

He turned to her. "What?"

"I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter how many memories you think you have, and no matter what happens with your memories later on, you always remember everything. Right now, you just can't uncover it because it's been hidden for so long. But someday, when you remember, you have to be sure not to hide memories of me…of us away. Alright? Even if we split up, you can't forget us." She laughed, her words coming out short and staccato. "If you forget us, we'll come and hunt you down and make brand new memories again."

He smiled. "Alright."

"See, now you're smiling. I can hear it."

A blur of something crossed his view so rapidly he couldn't make out what it was. Something light and soft and unbelievably warm brushed against his face – brushed his lips more precisely – but was gone in a second. It left him utterly confused and his mouth hanging open in wordlessness. He turned to Virginia, who had her back turned towards him and was standing, looking at the rock and rubble barricade. "Did you see that?" he asked her.

She didn't turn around, but her voice was unmistakably smiling. "See what? I don't know what you're talking about. Clive and Gallows should be coming soon. Keep alert."

He got to his feet, stumbling at first and his face a dark crimson red. "I'm alert."

A few hours or days or minutes or seconds later, a rock came loose near the north wall and bright afternoon sunlight came pouring through. The one ray of light pierced their vision as if they were looking at the sun. Immediately, they went rushing towards it and Virginia, who peeked through the hole barely the size of her face, found Gallows' large and friendly mouth smiling back. "It's good to see you're still alive! Is that brat still with you? Has he died yet?"

Jet ducked down and glared his best. "No. He hasn't."

Gallows laughed. "Shame. I was hoping you had keeled over already."

Clive's voice came from the other side, muffled by rock. "Stay put, we're going to get you out soon, just stay away from the wall for a second as I put to use these bombs…Gallows, get your face out of that hole or it'll be bombed too, and I doubt the ladies like that."

Virginia laughed, free to laugh without the constraint of vanishing air. She slipped her hand up against Jet's palm, and he didn't need to turn to see the pretty smile on her face. It was written all over her voice. "See?" she said, "I told you."