There was no way to tell how much time had elapsed but it felt like years to Mark. He was knelt down in front of his barred door, gripping it like a lifeline, trying his hardest not to concentrate on the fear that gripped his whole body in a bear hug. Kitchie would talk to him every once a while but he hadn't said anything in a while.

"I am going to die in here," he muttered. "That's it. I'm going to die in here." He sat back and leaned his forehead on the bars in front of him. "I am going to die…"

"Mark? Mark what are you talking about!"

He looked up to see Kitchie's face, pale, in his own doorway.

"I can't do this," Mark told him. "I'm going to go crazy, I'm going to be begging for death… I am going to die here."

"No you are not! You are not going to die mark, how can you think that! You are not going to die!" Kitchie was shouting now, and standing, gripping and shaking his bars. This was the first time that he honestly looked frightened by this whole ordeal. He had to have been scared already, but he was showing it now.

Mark shook his head and unclenched his hands from his door. "I should just get his over with." He summoned his DNA, summoned his power, and-

Pain blasted through his body. Wave after wave of shock blasts surged through him, causing him to fall onto his back and thrash on the floor. After a couple seconds of pure agony the shocks stopped and he tasted blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue to keep from screaming. His whole body throbbed, especially around his neck and the back of his head where it had hit the concrete floor. Over the ringing in his ears he could hear Jake calling his name and the thump of footsteps echoing in the air.

"Shut up!" someone yelled, and Kitchie fell silent. The thud of boots came to Mark's door and stopped. "I see that our collars work."

Mark groaned and rolled onto his side. The person – the man – laughed. "Ma'am! They work!" The clacking of heels pierced the silence and stopped outside Mark's cell. "I see," said a woman. "Excellent." The heels clicked away and the boots followed. Mark curled up into the fetal position, holding his head and wishing the ache to subside; wishing that he didn't feel once again that the walls were closing in on him; wishing that he could just die and have peace.

"Mark? Come on mark please, please say something, anything I beg you Mark." Kitchie's voice came out a strangled whisper and Mark swallowed. He hated causing any of his friend's pain. "Please. Pleas Mark say something or move I don't care just please I need to know you're alright."

"I'm not alright," Mark said to himself. "I won't be alright until we get out of here or until I die, whatever happens first." He shifted into a relatively more comfortable position and closed his eyes. "I'm not dead," he said aloud to Kitchie.

"Mark don't! You're not going to die soon and you're not going to die here! Come on mark you have to listen to me you have to. We'll be ok and they'll come find us. Quinn and Caim and the rest of them will come find us. Think about Quinn. What would she do or think if she saw you like this? You will not die here Mark. Think about- think about me! You're hurting me Mark I can't bare to see you like this please!"

Mark was thinking about him though, and that was the only thing that kept the impending walls at bay.