SEASON: Second Season - directly after "Siege III"
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay and Sheppard
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel. I own nothing.
SUMMARY: Following the events of "Siege I, II and III". McKay needs some sleep
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Thank you Tipper and SableCain for your comments and help.
SPOILERS: major spoilers for Siege I, II and III

WHAT SAY WE?

Part 1: A LONG WALK OFF A SHORT PIER

McKay strode along the hallway, leaving Sheppard at the Gate. He should have taken a minute to check on the major, find out if he could help with Ford, but really there was too much to do. He couldn't just stand around waiting for a plan to be put into motion. He had to get Atlantis put back together. He had to get moving. He had to move, otherwise –

They'd come so close to dying. All of them.

He squinted as he remembered the nuclear flash. Seconds. He'd counted down the seconds, trying to gauge the perfect timing – weighing the length of time it took the radiation to dissipate to acceptable levels against figuring the point where the Wraith might catch sight of the city below. When, exactly, to lower the shield and replace it with the jumper's cloak.

Five seconds, he'd said. He wasn't a brave man – he knew from experience that finding a good hiding place was often the best means of avoiding a bully – but he wasn't about to let himself be fried. Five seconds had seemed entirely too short a span of time when faced with irradiation.

His hesitation might have killed them all. He was damn lucky that the Wraith hadn't seen through their ruse, hadn't glanced the city before the cloak took it away. He might have killed them all – but – he'd chosen rightly in the end. He puffed his chest as he walked. Of course, he'd get it right; after all, he was Dr. Rodney McKay.

He could solve anything. Fix any problem. Put anything right. He had to. He was responsible for coming up with solutions – he was responsible for all the answers. He was a thinker, after all. Sometimes, it seemed, he spent too much time with his thoughts.

They'd saved the city. Sure, the place was in shambles, but they had a ZPM now. Everything would be fine. The non-essential personnel would return from the Alpha Site, the place would be swept and dusted, everything would be put back in its place. So it was imperative that he started moving again, so that the work could commence. This was no time for sitting still.

He should contact Zelenka– find out if everything had functioned correctly on his end. The Czech hadn't responded to his inquiries and that wasn't like him at all. Should go check on him, Rodney thought, as he continued along. But for some reason, his feet kept moving him forward instead of making the turn that would take him to the Jumper hangar. He just kept going.

Everything would be exactly like it was before – but better. They had the ZPM! And the Daedalus! He couldn't wait to speak to the Asgard. Imagine how much he'd learn! A wealth of knowledge awaited tapping. So unlike humans – absolutely 'alien'. Maybe he'd even teach Hermiod a thing or two. And Rodney smiled at that thought. Yes, what with the ZPM, the Daedalus and the Asgard, everything would be better than before.

Except –

Except that Peter Grodin was dead – a good man – and all those soldiers and Athosians – either dead or swept up by the Wraith, which was just another way of saying 'dead'. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like – to be taken like that. My God, to be trapped on a hive ship, cocooned and helpless? The thought gave him the willies.

So many gone, and he didn't even know the soldiers' names. Should he have known their names? – and Ford. Good God, what about Ford?

His steps faltered as he stepped through the hallway and he remembered how the young lieutenant had been – how he had changed. He rested a hand against a wall and breathed.

What happened to Ford -- that was SO wrong.

With a start, he realized his hesitation. It was a deliberate decision to shove off the wall and walk again. Inertia was so much simpler. But, you must keep moving, he told himself. There's so much yet to do. There's no time for rest. No reason to dwell on what cannot be changed. There were too many things that he didn't want to think about.

'What the hell's the matter with Ford?' McKay thought as he clipped along the hallway. Oh, the astrophysicist had been happy when the lieutenant had been found alive – one less soul to haunt him. And, he'd been glad to see Aiden awake and walking despite the earlier grim prognosis. But now? He'd attacked Carson. Carson of all people!

Something's seriously wrong with Ford. He's not acting like himself – not at all. And what about his eye? Talk about a freak show! That can't be right. He nearly strangled Carson – might've snapped his neck like a chicken-bone.

Rodney rubbed at his neck as he walked, putting distance between himself and the infirmary. He could check on his friend – his friends – see how Carson and the major were faring after their encounters with Lt. Ford – check on Zelenka to find out why he hadn't bothered answering the radio -- but there was no time for that now. No, there was so much to do.

Hope they're okay. Nothing went wrong during the cloak, so maybe Radek just wandered off to get some rest. He deserved it. The major will be fine. He has Teyla and Weir and everyone with him. Ford – hope he's all right, McKay thought as he walked, turning the energy from his nervous fears into forward motion. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

The lieutenant seemed so peculiar – so wrong. What about the look on his face when he attacked Carson? That wasn't Aiden Ford! Not the man he'd come to know and respect. And what had Rodney McKay done to free Carson from the attack? Nothing. He'd just stood to the side and gaped like an idiot.

Why'd Ford have to hang around me while I was working? I felt like he was looking right through me most of the time – as if he couldn't even see me anymore. Freaky weird crazy-eye! How am I supposed to work with that hanging over me? I should check on Beckett. Yeah, make sure Carson's doing okay.

Should have figured out a way to shut down the Gate when Ford activated it, Rodney thought. There should have been a way! Should have figured out how to submerge the city as well – yoyo or not. I should have kept that option handy. I would've figured it out, given time. Well, if I'm going that far, I should have figured out how to launch Atlantis into space. The Ancients did it. If they figured it out, I could have, too.

McKay drew his mouth into a grim line and strode onward – he had to get things done. He tripped up on a gap in the flooring as he moved from one section of the city to another. He lost his stride but gained it again, rubbing his eyes as he realized the pressing weight of the work in front of him.

He had so much to comprehend, now that the city was fully operational – so much potential! He had to take it in, to figure everything out – because he was the best man for the job – the genius – the smartest human in the galaxy. He was the Answer Man – and answers were something they definitely needed at that moment.

Coming to a T in the hallway, he turned a little too sharply and winced, feeling the pains of a bruised back ripple through him. It seemed like ages ago that he'd fallen at the weapon's platform – the artificial gravity returning – Grodin.

Oh – Peter…

He quickened his step, as if to distance himself from his somber thoughts – for there was so much yet to be done. With Grodin gone, who would take on the responsibility of 'managing' the city? He blinked, head down, avoiding the glance of anyone who might cross his path, seeing no one. If he paused, for even a moment, if he were to sit down and rest his head in his hands, he wouldn't be able to get back up again.

Dead – he'd been dead on his feet when Sheppard make his asinine, ill-conceived, pigheaded, selfless, kamikaze attack on the hive ship. Rodney'd had no idea how he'd held himself together, as he listened to the play-by-play, as the major had announced his approach on the hive ship, as he gave them the details of his imminent end. Rodney could do little more than count down the seconds.

It seemed that he was always counting seconds.

A buzz had filled his head and he'd sensed that awful weightlessness that came before passing out. Yet he'd remained upright – determined to be there to hear every moment, to be there for Sheppard even if the man didn't know it. He'd waited, listening, unable to do a thing, unable to stop his friend from sacrificing himself.

And then the deadly moments – the explosion of the Wraith hive ship. And where there should have been exaltation, he'd felt was only grief and reproach. If he'd only managed to get the power source operational! If he'd only been able to make the chair function – then Sheppard wouldn't be dead! – his own incompetence killed a friend.

As he strode through the hallways, Rodney remembered the sorrow, and he closed his eyes a moment. He shook his head, and as his shoulder glanced the wall, he opened his eyes again. No time for remembrance, he told himself. You have to keep moving. There's so much that needs doing.

The price of protecting Atlantis had seemed too high in those moments after the jumper had disappeared from their screens. Major Sheppard was gone.

He'd miss John – he'd miss him a lot. It was selfish – he knew that – but in the end, it was all about Rodney McKay. What would give Rodney McKay the greatest satisfaction? What would make Rodney McKay most comfortable? What would keep Rodney McKay happy and feeling good about himself?

Who would he hang out with when not ensconced in his lab? Who would he talk to when he just wanted to shoot the breeze? Who would take his jabs and jibes? Who would return the banter without getting annoyed? He'd liked having someone around who'd put up with him – someone who didn't take offense at his every statement. He liked knowing someone who could keep up with him. He'd miss it. Rather self-centered, but that realization was no surprise.

Then, in the too-long seconds after the Hive Ship's destruction, he'd looked to Beckett with the chilling recognition that one of them would have to go next. Lovely price for having the ATA gene – one of them would have to take the other nuke-laden jumper to meet the same fate to remove the last Hive Ship, and he wondered how he was going to fast talk Beckett into that job. Because, of course, Dr. Rodney McKay was the smartest man in Atlantis and it would have made no sense to snuff out that flame. And he'd miss Carson, too.

And then, a familiar voice had come over the comm. All Rodney's weariness had come crashing down on him then. He'd come so close to falling into a puddle.

As if in memory, Rodney stumbled. His legs didn't seem to remember how to continue forward motion. McKay grimaced, leaning against the wall to find his equilibrium. There's no time for this, he reminded himself as he shoved away and kept going. He had too much yet to do. So much destruction had been visited upon their home, and at the same time, so much potential had opened up.

He had been on his last legs when the Daedalus arrived; Carson's stimulants had run their course long ago and he'd been getting by on nothing but willpower and bad attitude. Surely, he had been on the verge of collapsing. When Caldwell had spoken to him over the comm, he'd been wading through a dream, hardly even awake anymore. "Present!" he spouted, as if he was still in school – half-asleep from too many long nights of study. God, he'd never dreamed of this in his school years – nothing had even come close.

Then the ZPM arrived, and he was certain he was dreaming. "What say we get the shields up," Sheppard had said – and it was probably the most intelligent thing the major had ever said. Yes, what say we.

The weariness had fled him, the moment he'd touched the device. It had invigorated him as if the power it contained leached right into him. He found the strength to move again. Of course, nearly meeting his end with the Wraith had helped rouse him. He'd dreamed of seeing the city run on this power since he'd first stepped foot through the stargate. Then, he'd damn-near let the city be destroyed when he couldn't get the ZPM properly installed immediately. Idiot!

Snap! He'd come that damn close.

But he'd managed it, hadn't he? Yes, of course he would. Had there been any doubt? He'd found his second wind – or rather his sixth or seventh wind – and had been cruising on that ZPM high ever since.

Rodney continued clomping along the hallway. So much to do. Atlantis was in shambles – dive-bombing darts had done their damage, destroying walls and leaving raw wounds on the structure of the city – gaping holes. So much had been destroyed, ruined, broken. So much needed his attention now. Too many of his people had been evacuated to the Alpha Site, leaving a skeleton crew to do the monumental job of stitching things back in place to get the city into fighting shape. They'll be coming back now, won't they?

Soon Atlantis would be teaming with its regular medley of personnel, augmented by the newcomers. Yes, throngs of civilians and soldiers would fill the city.

But not everyone would be back. There were gaping holes in the roster – the raw wounds.

Rodney nodded, his head dipping and heavy. Too many dead. Too damn many. How was he supposed to handle that? Surely the Daedalus didn't bring adequate replacements for the likes of Grodin, Gall and Abrams, or Dumais, Johnson, Wagner, Hayes and Peterson… Ford.

There would be no replacing them.

He wasn't meant for this. He was schooled to work in a lab, to contentedly mess about with computers, to grow comfortably fat. He wasn't trained to watch his friends die. He wasn't ready for that. There should be a course offered somewhere – study materials – 'how to witness the deaths of coworkers and get on with your life'. Hunching his shoulders, he moved onward, walking. He had to get to work. There was so much to do. If only Grodin were still around, he'd…

There were bodies in Atlantis – he'd seen them – dead people and he didn't even know their names – others who were missing and he didn't even know their names. And Ford.

What was the matter with Ford?

He walked. He walked and walked, needing to get somewhere – to fix something – because everything needed fixing. The city was in shambles. It had to be fixed if he wanted to survive this. He had to get working because he wanted to live. He wanted to keep on walking and breathing and exploring and LIVING. He had to save the city to keep himself alive. He wasn't going to let Atlantis fall to the Wraith. No – he wouldn't let that happen.

He didn't want to end up like Gall or Abrams – or even Ford for that matter. What the HELL was the matter with Ford? Aiden might have gotten them all killed! If the Wraith had seen through their ruse…

And McKay pressed a hand to his chest, terrified of what it would be like – to die at the hands of the Wraith.

Rodney McKay didn't want to die. He'd do anything to keep that from happening.

He stopped – came to a full stop because something suddenly blocked him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but everything seemed so blurred. A whooshing hiss filled the air and a brisk cool breeze touched his face. He lifted a hand to touch his cheek and then to rub at his eyes again. He leaned forward, pressing his torso against something cold and firm. One of his hands reached down and he gripped it – a railing -- cold. Perplexed by the sensations, he opened his eyes to stare out at the roiling sea.

He blinked stupidly. "Where?" he muttered, and then wobbled. "What?" he whispered, not understanding this at all. How could he be at the pier? He couldn't have walked this far.

As he gazed out at the sea, he felt his legs tremble. "What say we have a little sit down," he uttered softly. Numbly, he lowered his free hand, grasping the railing and steadying himself. "Yeah, a sit down."

It was as if his body lost all its strength, and his legs buckled. He crumbled to the ground at the base of the railing, ending up in a loose ball on the open deck.

And beyond him, the sea rolled.

TBC