Dear Readers,

Once again, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm sorry I've posted this a bit later than I said; some stuff came up regarding school/work/etc., so I didn't get to finish it as soon as I wanted to. But now, here it is, so I hope you enjoy. :)

Best Regards from a Bookworm/SGA fan,

Miss Pookamonga ;-P (and her muses, who won't shut up)

The Curious Feeling of Falling

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one…It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." —Lemony Snicket

"You got everything?"

He nodded, staring blankly past the doctor's worried face.

Jennifer sighed, placing a hand on Rodney's arm and rubbing it gently. "I'm sorry I can't go with you—I've had Major Teldy's surgery booked for weeks and I can't move it. But I'll try to join you as soon as can, okay?"

Rodney nodded again, not really paying attention.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah." He turned and looked at her, the dazed expression still in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

He merely nodded again, his vacant stare moving to the floor.

"Ready to go?" John stepped up next to them, his voice cautiously soft.

Jennifer glanced at Rodney, who looked up once again and turned to John.

"Yeah."

John nodded at him and then silently walked towards the 'gate. Rodney slowly picked up his duffle bag and slung it on his shoulder, adjusting his feet so he could support the bag's weight.

"Do I get a goodbye kiss?" Jennifer asked quietly as Rodney began to leave.

He stopped, looked at her for a moment, then quickly leaned over and planted a tiny kiss on her mouth.

"Bye."

His eyes fell to the floor as he turned back around and followed John, Teyla, and Ronon to the 'gate. Jennifer gave a half-hearted wave to the other three before they stepped into the rippling wormhole, leaving her to stare despondently at Rodney's back as he took his step forward and disappeared without so much as a parting glance.

Rodney didn't really remember anything that happened once he and his friends set foot in the SGC. He knew that they'd been ushered in by somebody familiar and had spent the better part of their time hugging various people, but he couldn't quite recall their faces. Or whether he even knew all of them.

His mind didn't really snap into focus until Daniel Jackson's car pulled into a parking space somewhere and the archaeologist suddenly announced, "We're here," in a particularly glum voice.

Rodney shook his head, startled, and had to blink his eyes a few times before his vision cleared and he realized that they had arrived at the hospital.

The hospital where she was.

Lying motionless on some bed, with a bunch of tubes sticking out of her.

Rodney suddenly didn't want to get out of the car.

"You coming, Rodney?" It was Daniel, standing outside his door.

Rodney nodded silently, unbuckling his seatbelt and reluctantly dragging himself out of the seat. He couldn't look at Daniel. That man had worked with her for over a decade and knew Sam better than most people—looking at him would only remind Rodney of her, and he didn't want to think about her at the moment. Didn't want to because when he thought of her, all he could imagine was a lifeless form covered in white blankets, a limp body that was cold and pale and alone. That would probably never tell him to "go suck a lemon" ever again.

"She's in the intensive care unit," said Cameron Mitchell quietly when they finally entered the double doors of the building.

Rodney shot a quick glance at Vala as they wove their way through the crowd of people and towards the elevators. Her face was unusually stony and expressionless, and she was staring straight ahead at Daniel's back, keeping herself so intently focused on it that Rodney immediately knew that she was desperately trying not to cry.

He knew exactly how she felt.

The elevator ride was agonizingly quiet and seemed to drag on for hours without anyone saying a single word. Rodney kept his eyes on the floor for the entire ride so that by the time the elevator arrived at their floor, he could have sworn he had explored every single nook and cranny and imperfection of the piece of carpet he'd been staring at.

They each walked out of the elevator carrying the same deathly silence that had hung over them throughout their entire trip there. Once again, there was not a single word spoken among the group until after they had entered the ICU and had stopped at a partially-closed door at the far corner of the hallway.

"This is her room," Cameron sighed heavily, waving awkwardly at the door.

Rodney shrunk back behind John, hoping no one noticed him.

Daniel leaned over and slowly began to push the door open, knocking softly just in case anyone else was already inside. A voice suddenly answered as a shadowed figure stood up out of one of the chairs and walked towards the doorway.

"Jack, hey," said Daniel in surprise. "We didn't know you were here already."

Rodney stepped back even farther.

The general waved a hand in the air mindlessly. "I got here just a few minutes ago." His voice was uncharacteristically cracked and subdued, as if he himself had been crying only moments before.

Rodney knew then that if there was anything such as a worst-case scenario, this was it.

Oh, god. He couldn't go in there.

He was slightly surprised when he finally looked up to see the group disappearing into the darkened room after Jack O'Neill. Teyla, who was the last to enter, turned to him and cocked her head to the side, indicating for Rodney to follow. For a moment he just stood there, frozen, gazing emptily at Teyla's face. Then, somehow, he found his voice.

"I…I'll wait out here," he whispered, silently pleading with Teyla to leave him there without argument.

"Rodney," she said gently, coming to clasp his trembling hands in her own. "It will be all right."

Rodney shook his head fiercely. "No, Teyla, I can't. I-I-I can't go in there."

Teyla gripped his hands even more tightly, her gaze growing more intense. "Rodney, you need to face this. You cannot run away—that will only make things worse for yourself."

Rodney suddenly felt a wave of warmth flood through his face, and to his dismay he realized that tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. He quickly looked away, but Teyla reached up and firmly brought her hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her again.

"Rodney, I know this is painful…is more than painful for you. But if this is really the last time you have to see her…you need to see her as much as she needs you there."

Rodney gulped back the tears and bit his lip, the terrible truth of Teyla's words stabbing him in the heart. She was right. He needed to go in there, to say goodbye, if that was what it had come down to. Otherwise he'd probably never get another chance, and he'd have to live with the wrenching guilt not seeing her for the rest of his miserable life.

"I…can I…can I just wait out here until you all are done or…or something? I just…not with everyone there…"

Teyla placed her hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I understand. I'll let the others know. All right?"

He nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

She squeezed his hands reassuringly and then stepped into the room.

Rodney shut his eyes and sank down into a nearby chair.

He was alone.

Alone to wrestle with everything tumbling around chaotically inside him until it was his time.

But even then, he didn't know if he'd be ready.

It was about an hour before the solemn group finally exited the room, but to Rodney, the time came all too soon. He felt a surge of anxiety rise up within his chest as he intently avoided locking eyes with his friends. Part of him was screaming inside his head to run away, to get out of that stifling hallway and escape, to push the horrifying grief behind him. And yet another part was screaming just as loudly, threatening him with images of a guilt-laden future, a future of excruciating despair, if he didn't muster up all his courage and see Sam's face one last time.

He remained like that, gazing fixedly at the white tile floor and ferociously twiddling his sweaty fingers, until he felt a hand suddenly land on his shoulder. He expected it to be Teyla, but the hand was too firm, too heavy, and so he looked up in surprise to find Jack O'Neill looking down at him with a remarkably concerned expression on his face.

Rodney's breath caught in his throat.

"We're going to get dinner," the general said quietly. "Do you want us to get anything for you?"

Rodney stared dumbly at Jack in shock for a few seconds before he snapped out of his trance and was able to process the general's words.

"I, uh…no, that's okay. Thanks," he nearly whispered.

Jack nodded. "Okay. We should be back in half an hour or so."

A knowing shadow suddenly passed over the general's somber eyes, a silent message of understanding. Rodney shivered at the connection, but he felt a sudden warmth spread through his body immediately afterward, as Jack patted him on the back and walked away to follow the others.

It was only then that Rodney made his final decision.

He was going in there.

No matter how difficult it was going to be.

When the others had walked out of sight, Rodney drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and compelled himself to stand. He suddenly realized upon doing so that his entire body was trembling, and that his hands and his brow were nearly soaked in the cold sweat of dread. But instead of letting the terrifying fear clench around him once again, he grit his teeth determinedly, fervently wiped his hands on his pants, and turned into the doorway.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim, shadowed lighting of the room. Once they did, he could see that there was a curtain drawn most of the way across the width of the room, leaving only the edge of the bed visible. He gulped when he saw the white hospital blanket covering Sam's feet, and for a moment he froze in terror at what else lay behind the curtain. But he pushed himself forward, blocking out every sound, every sight, every little sense that would distract him from the task at hand.

He needed to do this, and he was going to do it.

He wasn't going to stop until he saw her face.

Slowly, deliberately, he stepped towards the curtain, pausing again only when he reached the edge of it. His fingers curled around the plastic sheet, gripping it so hard that his knuckles turned white. He could do this. He had to do this. He had to see her face.

And so, with a final deep breath, he released his fingers and stepped past the curtain.

His heart stopped.

It wasn't Sam.

It couldn't be Sam.

But it…was her.

He knew it was. That face, no matter how damaged, couldn't have belonged to anyone else.

She was lying there, deadened, limp, lifeless—like a pale corpse on a table, save for the tiny breaths rising from her diaphragm. Her blonde hair was splayed out across the pillow, still glowing even in the low light. There was a breathing mask strapped over her mouth, covering half her face with its hideous, contorted plastic structure, and all around that there were wires and tubes sticking out in all directions, connecting to a myriad of beeping machines situated at her bedside. A horrifyingly nasty black bruise covered part of the left side of her face, while the rest of her visible body was covered in a horrendous array of colorful bruises and cuts—there was one wound so large on her left arm that a huge blood-soaked bandage was wrapped tightly around it. On her other arm was a cast stretching all the way up to her shoulder, and around her neck was an dreadful-looking blue and white brace.

But the thing that struck him the most was her eyes.

They were closed.

The pale lids shut tightly over them as if she was already dead, shielding their sparkling blue light from the visible world.

It was only when he realized that he couldn't see her beautiful blue eyes gazing back at him, so full of life and vigor and love…it was only then that it truly hit him.

She was gone.

"Oh, god, Sam…" he whispered, clutching the bed railing.

And he burst into tears.

He leaned forward, shuddering with sobs, and grabbed her limp hand in one of his own. It was so cold, cold as death, and it made him sob even harder when he realized that he had never held her hand before then. He had never known what it was like to feel its warmth, to feel her hand curling firmly around his, to feel her fingers entwining with his own. Now all he had to hold was a frozen, motionless mass of flesh and bone that couldn't respond to him. It would be the only memory of her hand that he could carry with him.

And her face.

Oh, god, her face.

Rodney couldn't believe just how beautiful she looked even with all the machines attached to her, even with the breathing mask obscuring half her face, even with all the bruises and wounds. But the radiance she'd always had was gone, swallowed by a shadow of lifelessness. Her face looked so small, so sunken in—all of her did. So frail and weak, lying helpless in the dark like an abandoned child. He couldn't bear to look at her, but as he stood hunched over the bed, quaking with sobs, he couldn't stop himself from staring at her face, willing for her eyes to open just a tiny bit so he could know she was really still there.

"Sam…god, Sam…why…" he trailed off, sinking dejectedly into the chair beside the bed, leaning over her until his face was level with hers.

He lifted a quivering hand to her face and tentatively touched it as he fought to push back all the fantasies he'd had in the past of doing just that. This wasn't a fantasy—it was a living nightmare, a horrifying reality that was the furthest from anything he had ever imagined. Everything he had wanted before shattered into a million little pieces, sharp-edged shards that cut him deeply every time he remembered.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, finally gaining the courage to press his palm against her cheek. He rubbed his thumb back and forth against her skin, hoping that somehow she could feel him trying to comfort her. "I'm so sorry."

Nothing. No response.

Not that he had expected one, anyway.

But it still pained him to look at her face, to have his eyes trick him for a split second and make him believe that she had moved, had reacted to his touch and to his words.

He sat there quietly sobbing over her motionless figure, stroking her hand and her cheek, lost in the flood of his grief, until a sudden noise jolted him out of his trance. He instinctively looked up and was surprised when his eyes met the startled face of a young teenage girl peering around the edge of the curtain.

"Oh! I'm sorry…I thought…the others had gone…" she started, fearfully backing away from the bed.

It took Rodney a few seconds to find his voice through the drying tears. "…No, no, it's okay…you don't have to go," he answered in barely a whisper.

"Are you sure? I…don't want to interrupt," she remarked quietly, her fingers curling tentatively around the curtain again.

Rodney swallowed and shook his head. "It's fine," he answered softly. The girl paused for a moment, as if considering his words, then slowly crossed to the opposite side of the bed and sat down in the chair there.

There was a moment of awkward silence in which Rodney turned his head back towards Sam, wondering who the girl was, how she knew Sam, and if he'd ever seen her before and just wasn't remembering. She certainly didn't look familiar, but perhaps she was a new neighbor, or someone Sam had just recently met—the daughter of a new co-worker, perhaps.

"Are…are you her husband?" The girl's soft voice startled Rodney again and he glanced up quickly.

"Oh…oh no. No," he answered hastily. "No, I'm just a…a friend. A good friend."

The girl nodded, her wavy black hair shifting against her olive-skinned face as she did so, her dark eyes wide with emotion. "Oh."

Another silence.

"Are you…you know Sam?" Rodney asked gently, suddenly breaking the silence.

"I…uh…no…I was there when…it happened," she answered in a quavering voice that grew softer with every word.

Rodney's heart skipped a beat at the small implication of the accident. He suddenly felt a strange feeling of urgency rise up within him and he leaned forward almost involuntarily. "You saw?"

The girl lifted her now bowed eyes to briefly nod, then lowered them again to stare at the hands in her lap. "It came out of nowhere. The SUV, I mean," she whispered forlornly.

The odd feeling intensified, and Rodney realized that he needed to know, to know just how it had happened in order to find at least a small sliver of peace.

"How did it—"

"I bumped into her when I came to the street corner," the girl continued as if Rodney hadn't even spoken. "She was crossing the other way. She started to walk across the street and then the thing just flew around the corner and…and slammed into her." Her voice suddenly cracked, and Rodney felt a surge of empathy in his chest. "And it just…sped away. Like nothing had even happened…I ran out into the street and tried calling for help…I don't remember much else; there was so much going on at one time…"

"It's okay," Rodney interrupted, gulping a fresh wave of tears back. "I just needed to know…"

"I understand," the girl replied, looking back up at him. There was something about her deep eyes that both unnerved and intrigued him, and he stared momentarily at them, trying to decipher just what it was. But she quickly diverted her gaze again, as if she had sensed him trying to decode her.

He moved his eyes back to Sam's stiffened face and let them roam over every feature, memorizing her, before he lifted his head to look at the girl again.

"Umm…I'm sorry…I didn't think to ask your name…" he blurted out embarrassedly.

She looked up and shook her head, a tiny grin crossing her face for a split second. "It's all right. I'm Nara. Nara Lysander."

"Rodney McKay," he replied.

There was another short silence before the girl shyly continued to speak. "How long have you known her…Sam…I mean?"

He sighed heavily, letting his eyes roam over Sam's face again. "About seven years," he answered slowly. "We used to work together."

"What kind of work?"

It was an innocent question, he knew, but nevertheless he froze momentarily before uttering an adequate reply. "Physics. Astrophysics."

"Oh. Wow," the girl breathed in genuine awe. "You two must be pretty smart."

Rodney let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. But she…well, I was somewhat of a jerk in our earlier years—I always thought I was smarter—but she was really the better of the two of us." He shook his head as he remembered. "God, I've never met another person with a mind like hers," he finished, a few more hot tears escaping from his tight resistance and trickling down his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the girl smiling softly. "She must mean a lot to you," she said quietly.

Surprised at how comfortable he felt pouring his feelings out to this complete stranger, Rodney merely nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

Another silence settled over them, but this time Rodney found it oddly consoling rather than strained or awkward. Somehow the girl's presence was like an anesthetic dulling the ache of having to see Sam in this deadened state, and he was inwardly grateful for whatever fateful force had brought her into the room at the precise moment that he had needed comfort.

But despite all that, he still couldn't find it in him to say goodbye.

Some tiny inkling of hope clutched at him, holding him back, whispering incessantly that it wasn't yet her time. That there was something yet unfinished, something so important that she couldn't leave just yet…

…maybe it was just his imagination. But that didn't change the fact that he couldn't seem to force himself to let go.

"Umm…well…I should get going," the girl suddenly said, almost causing Rodney to jump.

"Oh…already?" he replied, the aching part within him leaping in what he could have sworn was fear. "Are you sure?"

She smiled softly at him, the smile sending a thrill of comforting warmth through his body. "I need to be getting…well…" She suddenly stopped and the smile immediately fell from her face as her eyes began to flicker nervously from one spot to the other.

Rodney, confused at the abrupt change of the girl's mood, furrowed his eyebrows. "Home?" he finished tentatively.

He could've sworn that she shuddered at the word, but she covered it neatly and forced another smile. "Yeah. Home," she replied in an almost unsure voice.

"Oh, okay, well…will you be back, um, tomorrow?" Rodney asked, the girl's apprehensive attitude sparking concern within him.

"I should be." Well, that answer was much more confident than the one before it.

"Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you…Nara, right?"

"Yeah. Same here, Mr. McKay."

She turned to walk away, but something suddenly came over Rodney and he called out after her.

"Rodney."

She turned back around, her eyebrows quirked inquisitively.

"Rodney. Call me Rodney," he said seriously, locking eyes with her but not knowing quite why.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she contemplated his unexpected offer. Then a tiny grin spread across her lips and she answered, "Rodney. It was nice meeting you, Rodney."

And with that, she turned once more and walked out of sight, leaving Rodney to gaze after her in her wake.

He stared curiously at the spot in which she had been standing only moments before, pondering over their meeting. There was just…something…about her that he couldn't put his finger on. But he couldn't figure out what.

He turned back to Sam's broken face and sighed, moving his hand to brush her bangs away from her cold forehead. "You would know," he whispered. "You always know."

But again, as he had morbidly expected, there was no answer.

A/N: Nara is supposed to look slightly like a younger version of Morena Baccarin ("Inara" on Firefly and "Adria" on SG-1) or an older version of Biana Tamimi ("Neera" from The Young Black Stallion).