Notes: Tiny teeny one sentence spoiler for Trinity, which, if you haven't seen the episode, you might miss. Forewarned is forearmed though. I'd say it would spoil 2 seconds of the episode so, no big worries, just doing the polite thing in telling you :) Anyways, glad you're taking the time to read this little fic and sure hope you're enjoying it...or not...seeing how it's not the most enjoyable of situations. Ah, poor little Rodney! Let's see how he's doing, shall we?

Lack of light

"Not the box not the box not the box not the box not the box. It's not night not night not night. No not the box please not the box!"

Despite his pleas, he was confined to his box. Not box…no. What did they call it? Not…box…no…con…con something or other. It would come back to him.

He lay on his back, his linked hands resting on his chest. He was breathing slowly, as he'd been taught. Not as afraid as he once had been, he still didn't like to be put in the box. He didn't like the darkness to swallow him as it did when they sent it under the Complex. Suddenly it seemed the world didn't exist, he wasn't alive anymore. It was as if he would never see the sunlight again.

It was not so much being in the box as it was being forced into it that bothered him. The darkness just came and took everything. He knew they put him here to protect him, because he was special and they didn't want any harm to come to him. At least this time he had something to look forward to, something to think about while he waited to be released. The Lord would see him tonight and he would answer his questions and laugh with him. They would talk and he would be held. The pretty woman would cut his hair a little, trim his nails and rub lotion on his skin; all the things she did so he would look nice. The Lord would be pleased and want to keep Rodney with him a little bit longer. Maybe he would be lucky tonight and he would fall asleep, not be forced to leave but simply wake up in his box…

It was so quiet here and so dark. He wasn't scared. It was tolerable. They always came back for him, always let him out and said kind things. It wasn't the same now, not the same people. It was a woman that came to collect him, the pretty woman. Everyone was so pretty here, everyone had orderly hair. Orderly hair? Of course they did! Who would walk around with a messy head? No one, that's who! He gave a slight chuckle. Silly Rodney!

He hoped he wouldn't be here too long. Sometimes, when they left him too long, he was hurt and didn't know how it happened. They always took good care of him. One time, The Lord had seen him before he had healed and, oh, he had been so angry, had said that he shouldn't do that to himself. Rodney hadn't and he'd said as much. The Lord had believed him. He was such a nice man…such a nice man. He would see him when he got out of the box…no…not the box. It was not called a box!

He lay for hours concentrating on finding the correct word and his mind started to drift. He heard sounds, saw flashes of faces and places but could recognize none of them. He didn't try because he knew there was no one, nothing. It was the dark that played tricks and he didn't let it bother him anymore. Then, suddenly, it came to him in a flash of clarity.

Containment chamber! Yes! Containment chamber! Not box. He smiled, hummed happily and clapped his hands together in acknowledgement of his great work!

"Containment chamber, containment chamber, containment chamber". He repeated it over and over again as not to forget it. It was a good day today! He'd learned about gravity and he'd remembered this was called a containment chamber! The Lord had been to see him too! He so rarely came when he worked! He could remember so well, the silkiness of his robes, his finger stroking his cheek! Such a nice man…such a nice man.

He would tell him tonight; tell him he remembered it was called a containment chamber. He had to use the proper terms if he wanted to be understood, if he wanted to be accepted by all. The Lord had said he would be if he really wanted to try…

Really…try…really…try…really…wanna try…if you really wanna try…if you really wanna try.

Unruly dark hair, a smirking face disappearing behind closing doors…

I'm sure you can do it, if you really wanna try…Really wanna try…Really wanna try…

Unruly dark hair, an enduring cocky grin…

The image did not belong to him, he knew it wasn't his. It was one that had to be forgotten, it belonged to someone else! He couldn't be here anymore. The darkness was seeping into him, making him believe things that were not true. He had to get out, get out, get out!

Too late, the darkness was taking over. Faces came, voices came. "NO! NOT THE BOX NOT THE BOX NOT THE BOX! GET ME OUT OF HERE! OUT! I WANT OUT! IT'S NOT MINE! NOT MINE! NOT MINE! I DON'T KNOW. IT'S NOT MINE!"

Shouting panic dissolved into teary pleas. "Please, come and get me, let me out of here…please, please let me out! Don't let the darkness get me, please, please, please, let me out… nonononononononono, the darkness will get me…" He cried for a long time, still pleading for someone to come and release him. He didn't want to get hurt, didn't want pain before he was to meet The Lord.

He turned to his side and brought his legs up to his body. He rolled himself into a foetal position and held his eyes tightly closed. Faces loomed, closer; voices boomed, louder and names came, clearer.

John. Teyla. Ronon. Radek. Elizabeth. Carson. Rodney. Rodney. Rodney…

"Rodney McKay… Doctor Rodney McKay…"

It was hours before she could raise the containment chamber without fear of him being discovered. Not that she feared he would be, she wanted him to be, but for her own safety she had to keep him away, as they always did when his people came.

When the chamber locked into place, she heard the sound. It was, to her horror, almost a familiar sound now.

Thump thump thump. Silence. Thump thump thump. Silence.

Over and over again. Thump thump thump. She knew that when she opened the chamber she would hear incoherent mumbling, moaning, sobbing and the sound of a head hitting metal. If they were lucky, the hitting hadn't been going on for too long and he would be well. If they were really lucky, he wouldn't have bruises all over his body. If they were extremely lucky, he wouldn't have bleeding wounds all over his body.

She had left him too long. He couldn't be in the chamber for more than a few hours. He shouldn't be sent there anymore. She had told The Lord but he'd dismissed her, assuring her the formatting would be completed and he would be well just like all the others. He wasn't well.

When he was confined too long, the bruises and the wounds appeared. He was always surprised to see his battered body when she released him. He would say he hadn't done these things, and he was right. It wasn't detainee number 73945 that did these things. It was the Doctor. He was the one who screamed his fury at night. He was the one who left marks on the body. The detainee never remembered how it had happened but the Doctor left these marks time and time again. She assumed he hoped that someday, the detainee would remember where the marks came from, would remember the Doctor. She hoped he did too.

Letting her tears fall on the detainee as she cradled him in her arms, she noted that his clothes where no longer a pristine white. Patches of deep dark red coloured them.

"Unlucky…" she thought, holding him to her as he cried in long wailing sounds.