Lovely Angela, stop rubbing it in!

Notes: Breaaaaaathe! No more finals! Wheee! Which means I should get this finished soon! Thank you for your patience, you guys are great!

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He doesn't want to know what happened! He doesn't want to hear about what can put Rodney in such a state! Panic is not an option here! Anyways, he doesn't do panic. He's calm and collected, cool as a cucumber. A-Ok, going with the flow.

"Shit! Rodney, come on. It's alright!"

What a pair they make. One bruised and battered, the other…he doesn't quite know what's wrong with Rodney, but it sure isn't anything good!

"You want some water?"

Rodney's eyes are focused but unseeing, his skin pale and clammy, he vomited for at least an hour earlier. In the end, there was nothing left, just the sound of dry heaving.

When they got to the pits this morning, the crazy lab coat man was there, waiting. He was not happy and made good with his threat. Rodney would be taken to room seventeen before they returned home for the evening. He doesn't remember the day that passed, only the silent walk through grey corridors, as depressing as they were long, and stopping in front of the metal door. Rodney went in and…some guy came out. He looked like Rodney, smelled like Rodney, sure as hell felt like Rodney, but he wasn't. He isn't! That man, sitting on the floor, staring vaguely in front of him, not even registering John's presence, that's not Rodney! It's as if he's gone on break; his skull will soon be putting up the vacancy sign.

"Come on. Hey, listen, if you look at me, I'll let you have the last of the soapy thing. Yeah? There's not much left of it too. Just look at me, ok? Just see me. Come on Rodney, you can do it! I'm right here! Look, right in your face. You hate that; do something about it!" John is so close he can see Rodney's eyelashes cut through the air as he blinks slowly, so disturbingly slow. It doesn't work, nothing he's tried has worked! He knows what to do, has done what he was supposed to, but it hasn't help! John is out of ideas.

He sits beside Rodney, close enough so their arms are touching, because it's the only thing he can think of doing. He thinks that maybe he does it more for himself than for Rodney at this point. He can't reach him anyways.

"You know what? I can't believe you! You're not allowed to do this! You have to tell me what happened. You have to look at me and tell me what the hell they did to you! They didn't tell me anything. Not that it's surprising but you know, a guy can hope right?" He can't do this, talk to himself, hoping Rodney will answer. He's seen this before! Guys coming back from a mission in body but not in mind. They stay back there, like Jamieson who saw his scientist be decapitated in some barbaric anti-fertility protest. John shivers at the memory and sends his regards to Doctor Brody. She was a nice woman, smart and sweet. He just wishes he could know what happened to Rodney in there. They've gone through so much already, he can't let himself go, not here! Lost in his thoughts, John doesn't notice the light quality receding, but suddenly he realises he can't see much of anything. It's so dark in their little corner of the universe. So dark and he's so alone. Rodney's reassuring bulk is right there, pressed against his side, but John is alone.

He continues to sit in silence, hour after hour, hoping that Rodney will come back soon and eventually he does. It's gradual, at first it doesn't register but then there it is, tension in Rodney's body. John speaks quietly, afraid to break the silence. "Rodney?"

"Shh."

"What?"

"Shhh."

Ok, so he can do the shush thing for a while. At least Rodney made a noise, moved a little bit closer. They continue to sit in the dark for some time before Rodney speaks again. He hadn't gone very far; had wanted a break, some time before he had to remember, to understand. He knows what he saw, it's back now, the reprieve was only that. John will want to know. He doesn't want to, but he has to tell him. He knows that he can trust John, that he can go to him when things go wrong.

"They killed her."

Rodney's voice is so quiet, John can barely make out the words. He answers in the same tone. "Who?"

"The people in the room. They killed her."

"Who's her?"

"I don't know. Oh God, I don't even know."

There is it, the dam has broken. Rodney wasn't gone, he was hiding. Now he can't, but he doesn't have to. John is there. "It's ok."

"No…no no no no no it's not. They killed her because of me! They killed her because I couldn't get the device to work! Because I failed! I failed and she died!"

"That's not true. It's not your fault!"

"Yes it is! It is! I should've made it work! Oh God, she was so little! She was tiny!"

John cannot do anything but wait and offer a comforting presence as Rodney relives the brief and yet unending events. "All that hair, how can something so small have so much hair! She…oh God, she wasn't even…I don't know…she couldn't have been more than…damn it, why don't I know these things? She was…five, maybe six, or seven. I really don't know, but she was so tiny and they just…I didn't know what to do!"

"It's alright, not your fault."

"Good as, it's as good as! Just one more device! If I could've made one more glow a little, just pretend to work for a second!"

"Don't take it on yourself."

"I was the only one there! I wasn't good enough and she paid for it…she was so tiny. I swear, she was tiny and pretty, all those blonde curls you know? She smiled! She smiled at me!" He pulls away and looks at John. "I did this…I killed her. I couldn't work out the device and I killed her! I knew it would happen and I still –"

"Rodney. You. Did. Not. Do. This."

"If I could've worked it out! Maybe if I'd worked harder!"

"Don't." John reaches out to Rodney but the scientist pulls it away. He rises and walks away from the area where he had been sitting for the better part of the night. John follows, and hates this powerlessness, helplessness that seems to be the only thing this world can offer. He's useless again, completely useless.

"I don't…I can't…" Rodney sits on his cot, elbows on knees, head in hands. "She was so young! They just…"

John sits beside him, close enough to feel the shivers running through his body. "Tell me." He doesn't know the best way to handle this, how Rodney will cope with what he saw.

"No!" Rodney's hands go to his boots, unlacing them, putting them aside with unnecessary fuss.

Once he is done, John lays a hand on his back, the coldness of the air and the metallic wall they had been leaning against transferred to the man's flesh. He had better not screw this up; must do and say the right thing, if only he knew what they were. "Rodney, tell me."

"I don't want to…"

"Ok, but you should."

"You don't want to know." Rodney's voice is quiet, small, carries none of the bite a similar comment would've usually delivered.

"Maybe not, but you should tell me anyways."

Rodney's eyes bore into him and he holds them steadily. It could be true that he would want nothing of the experience Rodney now carries within him, but it is fact that he certainly will not let his friend suffer in silence.

After a deep, long breath, Rodney starts recounting his stay in room seventeen. "I walked in and there was a guy I haven't seen before. He was sitting at a desk…a normal desk, like any other desk. It looks like every other office in there. It looks normal! I couldn't have guessed what they were going to do! I just…"

John moves his hand in a small circle on the strong back, attempting to soothe Rodney into the semblance of calm he achieved a moment ago. He stops when Rodney speaks again.

Another deep breath and Rodney continues. "It was like an evaluation, you know? I sat in the chair and he said I did good work most of the time, I wasn't such a waste after all…and then he got that look, and he said I was falling behind and that wasn't acceptable, but they understood that I had to be well to work properly and…they brought her in…this pretty little girl. She was all…dressed up. Jeannie had a dress like that when we were young…you know the kind? With the frills and the ribbons? Like, church clothes? Church clothes." Rodney is leaning into John, seeking shelter from the images running through his mind. He shouldn't have spoken of Jeannie. He sees her as she was, intermingling with the little girl that is no more.

John waits, his hand still on his friend's back, feeling it warm under his touch. He waits, does not interrupt. Rodney will tell this gruesome story at his own pace. They have plenty of time.

"She came in, a man was holding her hand. You should've seen her! She was smiling and…proud…as if…I don't know. I don't know kids ok? I just don't! I couldn't…I smiled back because she was so proud. I mean, you have to encourage that in kids, right? Pride in yourself and all that. Obviously, not too much or you end up with a bastard like me who gets them killed. Oh God! She won't need to be encouraged! She's just… She was all dressed up in her little dress! The man! He just…he broke her! He broke her!"

One tear breaks free from the containment of Rodney's left eye and is falling, slowly, gliding down his face, to stop its descent in the shadow of a beard. John pretends he doesn't see it, isn't even sure Rodney feels it. Sometimes life asks for more than one can give.

There is no sound but for Rodney's voice and harsh breathing. "The man that worked there, I guess…he was saying I wasn't productive enough and this was…my fault. I should be happy they weren't harming me…I did this, I killed her."

"You didn't. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything more."

"I couldn't stop them! It happened so fast!" He turns to John, pleading. "One minute she was sitting there just…beaming! The next she's broken! He broke her! Just like that! Snapped her…snapped…snapped her neck! I didn't know what to do! I didn't have time to react!"

John wishes it had been him in there. He's seen many things that he managed to forget, managed to move past. Guilt and responsibility is something he leaves unacknowledged most of the time. Rodney feels everything; it cuts into him and settles there. There is nothing he can say to make it better, he can only be there. He repeats platitude, in the ridiculous hope that Rodney will accept them. "It's alright, it's going to be ok…"

"He said I'd be brought back if I couldn't do the work…"

Bastards, John wants to scream. Wants to run and fight each one of them for doing this to Rodney! Doing this to both of them! "It's not going to happen again. You have to think of the work, ok? You have to move past this!" John removes his hand from Rodney's back but stays close, their sides brushing. He hates himself for what he must do, but this is a perfect opportunity. He has to use this to assure himself Rodney will perform, will do what he has to do so this never happens again. He's appalled by what they have done, he's sorry a little girl had to die to help sadistic men make their point, but he'll use this to keep Rodney in line, because he has no other choice! "It wasn't your fault, but you have to work to prevent it from happening again. It's not your responsibility, you didn't do this, but you can't give up, alright?"

Large hands swipe moist blue eyes and Rodney nods. "Yeah…yeah, no I won't let them…I'll…"

"You'll sleep, that's what you'll do."

"Yeah."

The roles are reversed. When Rodney has put on his nightclothes, it's John who wait for him to get into bed, John who pulls the blanket over him, John who squeezes his shoulder as he says goodnight.

It's John who pretends he doesn't hear the whimpers.