Title: Time After Time

Author: One May Smile and Smile

Disclaimer: Like so many things in life, I have no claim to the fantastic characters of Stargate: Atlantis.

Summary: Rodney McKay is about to go on a journey, the ultimate purpose of which seems to elude him at every turn. Shifting back and forth between what he knows and what he doesn't, he must ascertain whether he's losing his mind or meant to make something right. McKay whump, team friendship, Cadman

Time After Time

Rodney McKay walked briskly down the hallway, shoulders in a familiar hunch. It was days like today that made him forget why or how much he loved his job. His own work was taxing and frustrating enough, but when his staff's incompetence forced him to do theirs as well, it made him tired... and when he was tired, he was irritable. Well, more than usual, at least.

As he turned a corner, John Sheppard walked past, and upon seeing the scientist, the soldier turned to walk along side him.

"Rodney! There you are. I've been trying to track you down for like an hour."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Did you try the radio?"

Sheppard's reply was equally patronizing. "Yeah, but when you don't have yours, that makes things kind of difficult."

When he reached up to feel for his earpiece and found it was missing, McKay ducked his head in minor embarrassment, but managed an annoyed grunt just the same.

"Details, details. What did you want anyway?"

"Teyla asked me to make sure we were still on for movie night," Sheppard replied casually, though it was apparent there was more to it.

McKay sighed in exasperation. "What? Yeah, sure. That's what you've been after me all day about?"

Sheppard grinned innocently, half-turning, preparing to make his getaway.

"Oh yeah, Cadman's coming too. See ya later."

He spun around and began to trot off. It took McKay a moment for the comment to sink in, but when it did, he stopped on a dime, eyes widening in terror.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

McKay turned to chase after his teammate, but he was no longer in sight. With a heavy sigh, he made a sour face, wondering if the world might implode if he were to trade snarky barbs with Laura Cadman for more than thirty minutes at a time. So much for relaxing at the end of this putrid day.

He turned to continue back the way he'd been going when he came face to face with Elizabeth Weir, who gave a bemused smile when McKay nearly leapt out of his skin.

"Jesus! Elizabeth..."

"Rodney," she returned easily. "You look a bit..."

McKay slipped comfortably into egotistic hyperbole.

"Dashing?"

She smirked. "Frantic."

McKay frowned exaggeratedly. "Yes, well... they're synonyms of a sort."

With an affectionate smile, Elizabeth shook her head and patted him on the arm before continuing past him.

"Just be sure your eight hour shifts don't turn into sixteen, Rodney," she chided mildly. "You look tired."

He looked after her, his frown deepening. When she was out of sight, he puffed his chest out and forced a tiny smirk onto his face.

"Tired," he scoffed. "I'm as sprightly as a stallion."

Taking a quick look around, making sure no one had heard his declaration, McKay began to move down the hallway again, his shoulders resuming their slight hunch after only a few steps. There's some things that are just beyond a man's control.


McKay fussed with his hair in front of the mirror, doing his best to spread it around to make it look like there was more of it. It hadn't receded embarrassingly far yet, but another six or eight years and it was going to be a bleak state of affairs. He didn't know why he was taking such great cares tonight, but he was compelled to look sharp for his team's get-together.

At the corner of the sink, a small bottle of gel stood unused. It had been something of a joke gift from Sheppard, a playful retort to McKay's constant quips about Sheppard's stylistic choices. McKay looked at it, his every natural fiber telling him to leave it there. Still, there was a reason people thought Sheppard was "cool," right?

McKay took the bottle and smeared a small helping on his hands, then ran them through his hair clumsily, spiking it up a little bit. As he rinsed his hands off afterward, he stared at his reflection, feeling a bit disgusted with himself.

"How does he do this? I look ridiculous."

If he was honest with himself, he knew what all his fussing was about. As much as he cared what Teyla thought about him, he didn't have to worry about being presentable in front of her and he sure as hell was getting prim for Sheppard or Ronan. It was a knee-jerk reaction to finding out Cadman would be in attendance. His physical attraction to her was plain and their relationship had improved considerably, but still, he couldn't get a handle on his anxious behavior. Maybe there was more there than he thought.

McKay took the long way to Teyla's quarters, doing his best to gather himself. It didn't really work, though. He still felt a bit frazzled by the time he got there.

With a hard exhale, McKay sounded the chime at Teyla's door.

When he heard her muffled voice welcome him, he took a moment to smooth down his t-shirt before the door slid open and he stepped inside.

Everyone was already there. Ronan and Cadman were seated on a small couch, Cadman's leisurewear catching his eye immediately. It wasn't anything particularly unusual or provocative, just jeans and a snug cotton tee, but something about seeing her in clothing not issued by the military was alluring enough in its own right.

Teyla was seated in a chair just past the couch, Sheppard on the floor in front of it, propped up cavalierly on one elbow. He was the first to speak, eyeing McKay with a lopsided grin.

"Evening there, Joe Cool."

McKay glowered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sheppard pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Come on, Rodney, what's the deal? Khaki pants, overpriced t-shirt, spiky hair? You look like you walked out of a Land's End catalogue."

McKay's embarrassment was obvious in the mild color that found its way to his face, but as was his way, he jutted his chin out defiantly, doing his best to look unfazed.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I dress like this all the time."

Sheppard snorted. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

Teyla cleared her throat loudly and with authority, signaling an end to her friends' bickering the same way a mother might definitively quiet her sons. As always, she was kind and diplomatic.

"I think you look nice, Rodney."

McKay, momentarily shaken out of his bluster, searched for a reply, but as he wasn't used to any compliments that didn't emerge from his own mouth, he couldn't think of anything. He offered something between a smile and a grimace. He'd have sworn, though, that Cadman was regarding him with fondness.

"Yeah, Rodney. Very GQ."

Her response was casual and flippant, but McKay didn't seem to take it that way. He smiled, a rare genuine kind of smile, and just sort of stood there looking goofily content. After an uncomfortable silence, Ronan – arms crossed, eyes disinterested – finally spoke up.

"So, are we gonna watch this movie or not?"

Sheppard lifted himself off the floor and grabbed a DVD off a small end table.

"Yeah, here it is."

McKay walked carefully to the couch, then cautiously lowered himself down, very aware of his proximity to Cadman, who was regarding him with a strange fascination. He supposed, in fairness, that he was behaving strangely, but it wasn't anything he could help, so he endeavored to divert her attention.

"So, what are we watching?" he asked. "If this is another Johnny Cash documentary, I'm leaving."

Sheppard rolled his eyes.

"That was one time, McKay, and we only watched half of it."

"Yeah, because it was four hours long!"

"Well, you can't tell his life story in ninety minutes, Rodney. He's not Manfred Mann."

McKay smirked. "Their talent's about comparable."

Sheppard's mouth parted indignantly.

"You didn't just say that."

This only fed McKay's self-satisfaction, as he cocked his head in that arrogant way of his, and let out a contented grunt. Cadman couldn't help but smile, wondering how one man could possess such pronounced insecurities and self-loathing, while simultaneously loving himself as much as McKay did. There was something almost exciting about wondering which Rodney you were going to get at any given time – the egotistical, complaining genius or the vulnerable, gentle man desperate for everyone's approval.

She spent her time pondering those things during the movie, Radio Flyer. McKay didn't strike her as the type to get emotionally involved in a film, but she could see subtle changes in his face, especially during the scenes of abuse. It made her wonder about his youth, something he rarely talked about. All he'd told her about was his short-lived aspiration to be a concert pianist. As she recalled, she'd laughed at him.

Teyla and Sheppard seemed reasonably invested in the movie, but Ronan had fallen asleep – no doubt from sheer boredom – and McKay eventually looked to be nodding off as well. That didn't surprise Cadman. She'd always known him to be obsessive about work and forgetful about things like sleeping, which he'd once labeled "a waste of what little time I have to share my genius with the universe." Anytime you put McKay in a dark room when his shift was over, slumber wasn't far off.

McKay could still hear the movie, but it seemed like it was getting more distant as the minutes drug on. Even with sleep encroaching, though, he was very aware of Cadman's warm body next to his. In fact, though he couldn't remember when, their legs had come to touch – not a graze, but full on thigh on thigh. He noted sleepily that she wasn't repulsed by the contact.

The voices from the movie drifted away, as did Teyla's and Sheppard's and Cadman's voices. Everything faded into darkness until nothingness was narrowed to a single point and he slipped into sleep.


He couldn't remember his bed being quite this hard, or feeling Atlantis' various vibrations this deep in his bones. And there were footsteps too... voices. Had he fallen asleep in his lab again? He wanted to open his eyes, but they felt like lead, just as the rest of his body did.

McKay could feel a light wind blow over him and began to hear cars rushing past, sounds of the city. Not his city, though.

In what felt like a Herculean feat, the groggy scientist opened his eyes and lifted his head off of what he now recognized as a sidewalk. Various types walked past, some strolling leisurely and others in a hurry, the latter group generally wearing suits. Some looked down on him with disapproval or concern or pity, and some ignored him, but all of them kept walking.

Where was he? How did he get here? Was this all just part of some hyper-vivid dream or delusion?

McKay braced his palms on the sidewalk, slowly pushing himself up to his knees, painfully aware of the knotted muscles in his back, which cried out against his every movement. With a final, elongated grunt, he braced his hands against his legs and pulled himself to his feet, colliding with a passerby, a young teenager with a Walkman, who gave him a withering look, but said nothing as she kept walking.

"Where the hell am I?" he muttered to himself, his grogginess subsiding, but his confusion deepening.

He turned and looked into the street, at the cars streaming by. They all looked so old, like none of them post-dated 1990. He must have stood and watched twenty go by, but none broke the pattern.

Another pedestrian bumped into him, this one not satisfied with a glare.

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

It was a dark-skinned, bearded man somewhere near mid-life, with short-cropped black hair that was graying a bit around the temples. He didn't exactly look menacing, but he wasn't anyone you'd look forward to confronting either, and McKay's bewilderment and disorientation had driven all the snark right out of him. If he was awake, how did he get here? Why wasn't he in Atlantis?

"I'm... I'm sorry," he mumbled contritely. "Where am I?"

The man frowned at him, his anger obscured by his surprise at the question.

"48th and 6th."

McKay shook his head in frustration. "That – that doesn't mean anything to me. Where am I? Is this Earth? What city?"

The man's thick Brooklyn accent didn't reveal itself to McKay until he replied to the scientist's question with mocking disbelief.

"New York. And you belong at Bellevue, jack."

McKay stared at him for a few moments, his mind racing. New York? He hadn't been to New York in at least a decade, and he didn't think his memory of it was good enough to conjure up a delusion with this much detail and vitality. The city was like a single sentient being of limitless complexity and he could feel it inside his head, pounding in his skull. None of this made any sense.

After a long second, he nodded shortly at the man, his eyes full of fear.

"I think you're right."

The man couldn't think of a reply to that, and he had more important matters anyway. With one final look at McKay, he shook his head and let out a breath before continuing on his way, leaving the scientist once more to his own devices.

As McKay watched him leave, a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he looked down to see what he was wearing. Khakis and a gray t-shirt, just like his last memory from movie night. He reached up to feel his hair, still a bit mussed up with gel, though it felt messy now, like Sheppard would wear his.

"Okay, okay... think, McKay," he muttered to himself. "How did you get here? Through the Stargate? No, we haven't dialed Earth in months. Um, um, uh..." He began snapping his fingers. "Spontaneous intergalactic displacement?"

He rolled his eyes at his own idea.

"What the hell does that even mean? No, no... it's... we're still on that planet with those energy clouds. We never left. They're drawing on Sheppard's memories of New York and..." He smacked his own head in frustration. "No, no, no... that's not it."

It didn't matter how he got here right now anyway, he finally decided. It only mattered that he was here, and he needed to get in touch with Stargate Command right away. Atlantis was no doubt searching for him frantically and he couldn't rule out some kind of alien involvement in whatever forces had brought him here. He nearly groaned imagining the array of medical tests he'd have to endure when he arrived in Colorado.

McKay began to make his way down the street, weaving through the contrary foot traffic. He was pleasantly surprised that he'd not yet seen anyone talking on a cellular phone or listening to an IPod. It was quite refreshing, actually. He was all for progress and technological convenience, but they made obnoxious fools into even bigger obnoxious fools.

As he looked over his fellow sidewalk strollers, something else occurred to him. They were dressed for warm weather, and it was indeed warm out. But that didn't make a bit of sense. Januarys in New York were always freezing. That was the one thing he remembered more than any other – the deep, brutal chill that you could never shake out of your coat. But it didn't feel that way today.

Twenty feet or so away, a commuter bus slowed and then halted at a bus stop, where about fifteen people were waiting to get on. It didn't quite register with him at first – the advertisement appearing on the side of it – but it clicked eventually how out of place it was to see an advertisement for Back to the Future. That movie came out... must have been twenty years ago. McKay began to walk backwards as he moved past the bus, unable to take his eyes off the ad. Were they plugging the DVD or something?

Blind to what was going on behind him, McKay bumped into another pedestrian, hearing a high-pitched gasp as he collided with a young woman and knocked something out of her hands, nearly sending her sprawling to the ground. He reacted quickly, turning instinctively and finding a grip on her forearm to keep her upright.

"Oh, I'm – sorry," he said for the second time in ten minutes. "Are you all right?"

When she crouched down to pick up her purse and her newspaper, McKay squatted down next to her to help, but it was a token gesture because she quickly slung her purse back over her shoulder and deftly reclaimed her copy of the Times.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she replied kindly, smiling disarmingly as they both rose to their feet again. "You should watch where you're going, though. Most people take life a little too seriously around here."

McKay nodded, trying to return her smile, but sure his awkwardness showed.

"Yeah, I noticed that," he said. "Hey, um... do you know where I can find a pay phone around here?"

She thought a moment, then gestured across the street toward a small pizzeria.

"Sure. There's one right over there in Lombardi's," she replied, taking note of his shifty eyes. That might have concerned her other times, as she usually found it was an attribute shared by drug addicts and grifters, but something about McKay told her he was harmless. "Are you okay?"

McKay stared at her for a long moment, wishing he could convey to her just how not okay he was. Eventually, though, he just nodded.

"I'm fine, but... could I trouble you for fifty cents?"

She cocked her head and smiled strangely.

"You need to make two calls?"

He looked at her with confusion. "What?"

"Well, mister, it only takes a quarter to make a phone call," the woman said with a gentle laugh. "Unless Mayor Koch got up to something in the middle of the night."

McKay frowned, wrinkling his forehead as he added a new layer to his already profound confusion. She seemed to sense his distress, and in a gesture that should have been far too familiar for a stranger, the woman laid a hand on his arm.

"You sure you're all right?"

He didn't respond at first, trying to work things out in his head. The man was a genius, but his mind wasn't quite working at its optimal capacity right now. Still, the information was starting to coalesce...

"Can I see that?" he asked, gesturing to her newspaper.

The woman nodded, watching him with fascination as she handed it to him. McKay's face blanched, the blood in his veins growing cold. This couldn't be. His voice was gravelly, soft, terrified.

"June 8th, 1985."


AN: I'd love to hear what you guys think... what you like, what you don't... praise, suggestions, questions. Leave a review. Thanks.