Another Stargate Atlantis fic? A sequel to Skyward? Maybe...

I know it has been quite some time since I wrote Skyward, and many of you wanted a sequel to find out what became of poor McKay and Sheppard. This has been taken out and mused over then put away again for so long it is not even funny, yet I knew one day I would sit down to it. So, in order to see if any of you are still around/interested and see if it is worth completing, I thought I would throw up the first chapter. As with Skyward, it promises to be an angst filled whumping tale with our favourite Lanteans. ;)

If you have not read Skyward, I recommend reading it first, otherwise this story might be quite confusing. ;)

Comments are cookies for the soul of the Dragon, feed me! :D


"Rodney move it!"

His hands are before him, pulling at wires and crystals, replacing or discarding them as he looks over the schematics on his tablet. He is very conscious of the Wraith Dart that Sheppard is unable to shake or take down and is well aware that it won't stop firing at them until they are vaporized.

"I've nearly got it!" He yells back to John as the PuddleJumper is rocked by yet another hit. He hears the loud clunking noise that sounds every time Sheppard tries to fire weapons, exasperated that it still isn't working.

"Rodney get over here!" John shouts again and Rodney can tell by his voice that he is preparing for a less than favourable outcome to this mission.

"I've nearly got it!" He shouts back irritated.

He is suddenly slammed forcefully onto the panel he is working on when the ship is rocked by yet another impact. He is shocked for a second as the pain in his face brings tears to his eyes and he wipes at the steady warm flow that is now running from his nose as he focuses on the blood splattered crystal array, frantically trying to bring the weapons system back online.

"There! Try it now!" He shouts over the noise in the cockpit, his heart leaping as John successfully fires the Jumpers weapons at the Dart, unable to contain a small cry of elation as at least one drone hits home. But his glee is short lived and his heart sinks as he watches the Dart quickly change direction and unleash another attack on the Jumper that plunges it into darkness.

"The entire system just went down!" John yells, his voice sounding oddly faded.

For a moment Rodney can do nothing but stare out as the Dart comes round for another shot, speedily drawing closer with its weapons firing. He can hear his blood pumping loudly in his ears, can feel his heart racing in his chest and he stands there frozen until John's frantic shouting brings him back to his senses.

"I ...I can fix this!" He shouts back, determined to get the systems back online and save their asses as John tries everything he can to try and level out a ship that is currently falling like a brick down through the upper atmosphere of a rarely visited planet. Rodney wipes at his nose as he replaces a crystal and watches as the systems come back online. Turning back to John with a grin, the pilot battles to level out the Jumper then turns it towards the approaching Wraith dart as both ships now streak madly across the planets bright blue sky.

"Time to take this son of a bitch down." John growls and fires.

The Wraith Dart explodes into a million pieces of flaming wreckage, most of which burns up with in ferocity of the explosion. But they both watch in horror as a large piece of the Darts pointed nose is propelled towards them faster than John can maneuver his damaged ship and it collides with the Jumper causing an explosion in the weapons array that rips the ship open like a tin can. The ship shudders and veers into a shallow nose dive, spiraling lazily as John fights to bring it back under some kind of control.

"I can't get it back!" John is yelling over the noise of the alarms and the deafening roar that fills the cockpit from the jagged hole in the falling Jumper. "It's no use Rodney! Get back here and strap in!"

But Rodney is unable to let go of the cargo netting that his hands have clawed into, anchoring him as the rest of his body flays around in the spinning ship. He is aware of John, twisting in his seat with his hand reaching out for him, but Rodney is too scared to even try and grab his outstretched hand. There comes the terrible screaming sound of tearing metal and he sees light shining through stress breaks in the massive plates above him as the strength of the air being forced through the ragged hole begins to tear the ill fated ship apart. He is somewhat thankful that they are in the planets atmosphere, knowing all too well what a hull breach would mean if they were still in the dark vacuum of space.

He looks fearfully back towards John, who has loosened his restraining belt enough as to let him reach closer to Rodney while still providing some kind of anchor point to the pilots seat. His face is full of concern as he sees the hull breaching too, his eyes locking onto Rodney's, showing a look of fear that Rodney has never seen in them before, the sight of which spurs him into letting one hand go of the cargo netting and reach for John's outstretched hand.

But John's image suddenly ripples and morphs into a Wraith, its evil eyes stare at him as its long white hair whips wildly about its head and it reaches for him with its huge strong hand with the feeding slit only too obviously. Rodney recoils and tries to pull himself away from the abomination, attempting to kick at it, only to find that he is unable to move anything below his waist. He looks down to find that he has no feet, does not even legs. Attached below his stomach is a heap of twisted metal that is bent and shaped around a solitary wheel and the scream that tears from his throat is enough to...waken him out of his nightmare and back into the reality of his bedroom, drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.

Rodney wiped his face and sighed as he woke from the bad dream. The nightmare is always the same, never changing. No matter how many times his mind replays the cursed images the nightmare never fails to drag him screaming from sleep. Panting, he felt his way down his body as he often did after that particular nightmare, just to remind himself that he was fully human and not a horrific amalgamation of flesh and twisted metal. The sigh that escaped his lips was filled with relief when he felt his thighs were flesh and blood and not cold metal. His only saving grace was that the nightmares did not occur with the frequency they once had, this being the first time he suffered one in some weeks.

For the most part, he believed that this particular nightmare was in fact, details of everything that happened in the lead up to the crash which resulted in his confinement to a wheelchair. Everything, that is, with the exception of his becoming some weird twisted unicycle, which he knew full well came from a deep aversion to the wheelchair he now relied on. He remembered very little of the crash consciously, but he was almost one hundred percent sure that the start of the nightmare was exactly what happened on that fateful day. The very fact that in the dream he is trying in vain to save the ship when it crashed seems to add up with his injuries and the reason that John had left his pilots chair to become lodged beneath it. But it doesn't matter which part of the nightmare is real or not, his waking nightmare remains the same and he continued to be reliant on a wheelchair for his everyday mobility.

He had tried to walk again, of course he had. Long days of sweat and extreme pain, managing only to struggle a few torturous steps with the heavy aid of two people who spoke to him words of encouragement that only made him angry at them and himself. In the end he was forced to accept the original diagnosis that Carson had given him; that he would never walk again. Not once had he been able to get out of the chair and walk unaided wherever he liked. Not once had he been able to utter a word or form a sentence that could be heard by others while awake. Not once in the last two years, had he been allowed to forget the happenings on the fateful day that had robbed him of his independence.

Turning his head on the soft pillow he looked at the contraption that he hated so much and his face pulled into a tired sneer but relaxed again as reminded himself that he was lucky to still be alive. He had decided long ago that if this was to be his life now; he would do what he had always done and push himself to the very limits of his abilities. Rodney McKay had never settled for second place and he wasn't about to do that now. He had never run from a challenge, and he certainly wasn't about to start. But there were days, like today, when the last vestiges of his nightmare would leave him thinking, why me? But staying on Atlantis left him little time for self pity and today would be no exception. John would, as always, be there to drag him out of the depths of despair and bring a smile to his silent lips. Today was excursion day, or as John had come to name it, Arennar day, so named after an Athosian child badly pronounced the acronym for rest and relaxation.

He had suggested a visit to the Gardens of the Nulumn on the planet Muo. A mountain top plateau which boasted not only beautiful gardens, but a fantastic cliff top eatery that was fast becoming a favourite haunt of the personnel in Atlantis, the Colonel included, whenever they had some downtime. It served a most delicious sizzling dish called the Gnator Muo'sh platter that Rodney and John had taken a huge liking to. But even though the mere thought of the wildly tasty meat dish made his mouth water, the thought of pushing his damned chair up the winding narrow paths that crisscrossed the side of the Nulumn mountain was less than appealing. Flying up in the Puddle Jumper wasn't an option as the Muo'as had not only survived but thrived due to a dampening field surrounding the mountain and major settlements at its base, a similar dampening field to the one that brought down their Puddle Jumper on M7G-677.

He lay there trying to think of excuses to give John as to why he could not go out today, each excuse sounding lamer than the one before. The nightmare had placed his mood in one less willing to enjoy company let alone a day out, no matter how enjoyable the company or how good the food he could expect to eat.

His thoughts scattered when his door chimed to announce a visitor. Closing his eyes tight he grimaced; someone was here before he had even got out of bed and he wished them away, feeling annoyed. But he was sure that the person on the other side of the door would not leave any time soon as he knew full well who it was that waited there. He glanced at his clock and realised that they were not an early morning visitor but rather that he has slept in. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he arranged the covers around his body, hiding his withered legs, before pressing his custom made button to open the door from where he sat.

The door opened to reveal John Sheppard, leaning with one shoulder on the door jam, his legs stretched diagonally across the doorway as if he had been standing there for hours. He had an I-just-knew-you-were-still-in-bed expression on his face and a smug grin tugged at his mouth. He had his usual Arennar day stubble shadowing his face, which he argued he liked because it "looks cool", never admitting that he just plain refused to shave on his day off. His hair was tousled to perfection and Rodney found it hard to see the scar in his hairline that showed the place where John lost more than a bit of skin in the crash. He pushed himself from the doorjamb with his shoulder and sauntered into the room like he owned it, casually flopping down into the chair at the bottom of Rodney's bed. Rodney simply rolled his eyes, knowing what would come next and so wriggled down into the bed for the duration.

"I see that look on your face McKay. I didn't get out of my bed this morning to just sit around Atlantis. What excuses did you think up today?"

Rodney set his jaw and stared at him defiantly, raising his chin in his usual I-have-done-nothing-of-the-sort expression. John always seemed to know exactly what was going on in Rodney's mind by merely looking at him, something that infuriated the scientist no end. John merely shook his head and groaned as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees while staring at Rodney with eyes that say he wasn't going to argue about it.

"You have half an hour then I'm leaving. If I have to come back here and drag you out, so help me McKay, I will." He cocked his head forward, flicking his eyebrows up in his well known "Understood?" look.

Rodney shook his head crossly as John made his way back out of the door before stopping and looking back.

"Half an hour. Jumper bay." He said with finality then turned and left, whistling a light hearted tune as he wandered down the corridor.

The door closed, leaving Rodney staring at it for long minutes until that hint of a smile ghosted over his lips as it normally does when he decides that Arennar day might just be worth getting up for after all, then he hurried to get ready.

TBC...Please leave a cookie comment! :D