Time
by Shadowesque13
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy
Spoilers: Pretty much one big spoiler for "Before I Sleep", in case anyone's not seen it
Summary: Time is a precious thing. What could Rodney have been thinking during his final moments in the original timeline?
Dis: Stargate: Atlantis is not my property. Or else you'd see more Rodney, Carson, Zelenka, and Grodin. And no Weir. And less Sheppard. And more amazing shots of Atlantis. And-you get the general idea. Not mine. Never has been. Can't see it happening in the future, either.

-

Time. Time was all they needed, was the only thing they wished for. But it was now their enemy turning against them. Rodney McKay set quickly to work on getting the hatch open so that at least some of the crew would survive this death trap around them.

"Rodney, get the hell out of there!" Weir's voice crackled over the radio.

"There's no time!" he cried back, trying to carry his voice over the rush of water. Time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. Yet time was all they had left. Weir voiced more orders which he ignored. He heard Grodin whispering a prayer to himself behind him, though it seemed no god would be able to listen to him through the pounding of rushing water against the Gate room walls. He quickly tried a number of buttons and combinations, though judging by Weir's words, none of them worked. He had to try again, work faster, save those that could be saved. They might still have time.

Bone-chilling ocean water lapped at his feet; he took an involuntary step back. There was nowhere to go, and the flooding waters continued to rise at a quickened pace, soon taking his legs out from under him. The device slipped from his hands. His head breached the surface in time to hear Grodin give a yelp as he, too, was sucked under. In the turbulence, Rodney was in and out, up and down, left and right, only grabbing air now and then, the device long since gone and unable to be retrieved. So much for time. It had run out for these unfortunate fellows. He knew not of all the massive chaos that took place not long after losing contact with the others. He knew not how many people died or would die. He knew not where the unjust and unforgiving seawater took him, took Grodin, to the device he only could hope worked at the bitter end. All he knew was how to hope that he had helped to save the others. That they, at least, had a little more time than he.

He tried to get to the surface once more but found that the room was totally submerged. Time was so very precious, but there was never enough. His lungs burned; his vision swam more than he was able to; his mind went numb, as did the rest of him. Was time really relative? Or was it only how one perceived it? Bitter salt water filled his desperate lungs. He could hardly register anything, much less pain now, as time passed him by, just adding to the collection of debris in the ebbing and flowing water pushing itself farther inside the doomed city.

Time is precious, because in the end, it's the only thing that remains. Like sand, like water slipping between one's fingers, it could fly by that fast. Time itself lasts forever. For the city, for the curious explorers, it had been cut short. It is neither cruel, nor is it kind. It is just there, everlasting, precious time.