Darkness
Sydney blinked rapidly, fighting panic at the fact that she could not see a thing. As always, it took her a few seconds to register her surroundings; as always, she wished she was still asleep. It didn't make much difference, anyway – she was enclosed in darkness either way, and in dreams at least she could find peace.
She didn't know how long she'd been there, or indeed, where she was. She wasn't even sure who had her, and why. There were only two constants left in her life – the darkness of the room, and the growing sense of despair that seemed to linger whenever she was awake.
It was hard to tell one day from another. In fact, the only things she knew were waking, sleeping, and waking again. She told herself constantly, repeatedly, and less convincingly each time, that the CIA would find and rescue her. That Vaughn would find and rescue her.
Vaughn was everywhere to her. He appeared in her dreams, in her waking mind, and in the moments when she couldn't tell which was which. He kept her sane, and in doing so, slowly drove her insane with desire. She missed him. Out of everything she missed, she missed him the most.
He would appear when she was at her weakest, urging her on, believing in her. His voice helped her through the darkest of days, the only stable thing against a sea of confusion. Sometimes, while she laid on the cold hard floor of her cell and couldn't make herself sleep again, Vaughn's voice would come to her. He would talk about trivial things – work, the new landlady, should he get a new car. Sometimes, she would even answer back, and see in her mind his amused expression, hear in her head his merry chuckle. She even replied aloud at times, just to hear her own voice and know it was still real. Sydney knew, deep down, that she was going mad – she was talking to an imaginary boyfriend, and that was the most important thing in her life.
But none of this made sense anymore. Imagining conversations with Vaughn was strange, but so was being held and tortured by an enemy she didn't even know existed. It was hard to stay strong, to not let them break her, when she didn't even know what they wanted. There was nothing to hold onto, no secret to safeguard, no reason for her torment. There was only his voice, and the constant need not to break.
It was night. It was always night, but this time, she knew for a fact that it was night outside, too. She heard his voice again. This time, he seemed more broken than she did. He missed her; he wanted her home.
She reached out. Hugged him, with arms that weren't quite there. Told him that it will be okay. That it didn't matter what happened, because one day, they will find each other again. Told him not to despair, but he continued to, anyway. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't even know if she'd ever see him again. So she told him the hardest thing.
She told him to move on.