Calleigh drifted drowsily for awhile before opening her eyes to complete and absolute lack of light. That was fine for a moment until she remembered her last few seconds of consciousness and immediately defined the darkness as hostile. After sitting up much too quickly Calleigh almost but not quite threw up as the lingering unpleasantness of chloroform choked her nostrils.

"What…what..." Gasping for fresh air Calleigh's brain groped its' way through a sickly sweet headache. Images of the last thing she remembered seeing flooded her mind -- the flash of a knife blade beside her and a circle of white bandages vanishing in a spray of blood.

"Horatio!"

Her own scream engulfed her, instantly echoing. Wherever she was, the room was small. Raising trembling fingertips to touch her face Calleigh immediately snatched them back when they encountered a sticky residue of chloroform roughened by a crust of dried blood she didn't think was hers. She forced herself to be still, listening for the slightest sound, but there was absolutely nothing except for a small vent fan of some kind running up above her head. It was just loud enough to keep her from hearing what she wanted most to hear -- the sound of someone else's breathing.

The darkness was so absolute that Calleigh's eyes weren't adjusting. She reached out, blind in the pitch black, and identified the surface underneath her as a mattress. Not her own, but thinner, with rough sheets and single harsh blanket folded up near the foot. Her heart plummeted when she realized she was alone on the bed. Exploring fingers found the edge of the mattress and Calleigh swung her legs over, bare feet brushing carpet. This wasn't her condo.

The simple act of standing up in the oppressive blackness was extremely difficult. She had experienced a similar feeling once before as a little girl with her Dad on a National Park tour of some very deep caves. The guide had warned them before the lights went off but it was pretty scary anyway when it happened, not so much the darkness as the complete and utter absence of light. Calleigh the little girl had held her Daddy's hand and known that the guide would momentarily reach up and switch on his headlamp. Calleigh the grown woman had to find the light for herself.

Moving through thick blackness she brushed her leg along the edge of the mattress as she went, keeping the tactile reassurance of its presence beside her. All too soon, though, she reached the foot of the bed and had to take a step forward into emptiness. As she did she stretched her arms out in front and her fingers bumped something soft yet substantial which then moved away out of reach. Scrabbling hands found it again, identified human flesh, flew upward to feel a ribcage, reached higher to touch a chin rough with stubble and then an edge of ragged bandage.

Calleigh was standing on her tip toes, yet Horatio's head was almost too high up for her outstretched hands to reach, his body a foot and half taller than it should have been, standing. He wasn't quite solid either, he kept moving away from her when she tried to touch him. Disoriented in the darkness, Calleigh's mind groped. It was like he was … like he was …

Like he was hanging.

"Horatio?" she whispered, outstretched fingers trailing down ice cold cheeks.

There wasn't an answer, not that she really expected to get one. Calleigh's trembling fingers, now uncomfortably slick with something that could only be blood, felt their way behind his ear. She searched for the right spot and held her breath until she felt it, the faint flutter of a pulse.

He was alive. A sudden need to see overwhelmed Calleigh and she panicked in the pitch black, moved too quickly and rammed her shoulder blade into something that felt painfully like a door frame. Stumbling back from the sharp impact she bumped into the solid weight of Horatio's dangling body and sent it spinning away from her. Calleigh heard a faint groan.

"I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry, Horatio," she whispered. Carefully she turned herself around and reached out. Bare skin brushed by her fingertips and she caught him around the waist, gently slowing his motion until he was still. "I'll be right back," she told him, hoping she sounded more in control than she felt. "Just hold on. I'm going to find the light. I'll be right back."

She listened for a sound, even another groan would have sufficed, but there was nothing except the damn fan droning away near the ceiling. Well that was stupid, Duquesne, she lectured herself sharply. Analyze. It's a room like any other. Follow the walls, find the door, 80 percent probability of a light switch. Do it.

She did. And just as predicated the switch was there. Calleigh snapped it upward and spun around, pressing the small of her back against the door. A single bulb dangling from a central fixture illuminated a small room. Sixty watts at best, Calleigh estimated, but more than enough after the former darkness. The rest of the room eluded her for the moment as her eyes flew to what she most needed to see and she gasped out loud when she saw it.