A/N: I hope you enjoy because the is the hardest thing I have ever written. Lots of love and thanks to Sholio, Kodiak Bear Country, MarftheRiver, and Angw for the betas. Gigantic hugs to Kodiak and the rest of my Livejournal friends for all of the encouragement.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis. Wish I did.
Warning: This may take place on Christmas, but it is a dark story. There are light moments, too, but yeah, definitely dark. It is not, however, a deathfic as far as our characters are concerned.
Spoilers/References to McKay and Mrs. Miller.
Part One: From Death Into Life
December 2007
Miracles. Rodney didn't believe in them, though it would make life better if he did. Maybe if there were miracles, there would still be hope.
He could hear the bells, the chorus, and the joy echoing from outside. There was laughter in the house next door, kids playing in the yard. His hand shook as he swigged down the scotch, letting the flavor roll in his mouth before gulping it in one large swallow. He toasted to the children and parents, the ones out there that were still alive…for now. He toasted to the world that hated him, and the order in the universe that had betrayed him.
It was neither a silent night nor a holy night despite what the manger on the lawn next door acclaimed. It was a time of reverie and pain, and Rodney wished that he had chosen a more remote location to live, where there was no noise, no life, just the emptiness he felt within himself.
"You should be out there fighting." Ronon's tumbler remained untouched. He slouched on the couch, arms wrapped around his chest. "It's been three days since the last culling and you've done nothing."
"Because there is no point. The drones are gone. Our ships are destroyed, and every time we try and fight back they just come at us that much harder."
"Could help with evacuations. Finding a place to—"
"The evacuations are a joke: We're colonizing a new planet only to invite the Ori to finish us off." Rodney's glass clanked against the mahogany table. "No. I'm tired of fighting and listening as everyone dies. You want to play Rambo and pull off the biggest miracle this world has ever seen, then go for it. But I'm staying here."
"Waiting to die."
"Go away, Ronon."
"Sheppard and Teyla wouldn't want this. If nothing else, you owe it to their memories to—"
"Sheppard and Teyla are dead. As are Elizabeth, Radek, Carson, and the list goes on." He was drunk. He knew it from the way the room tilted and his speech slurred. He moved to take another drink, but Ronon's strong hand stopped him.
"It wasn't your fault."
"And that's not my point."
He wrestled his wrist from Ronon's grasp, falling back against the leather upholstery. "There are no miracles, Ronon, and there is no fix."
"So we go down fighting and take as many Wraith with us as we can."
"You have fun with that."
He wobbled to his feet, not quite the opening to a dramatic exit he had been hoping for. The coffee table had moved apparently, because he found himself toppled over, Ronon catching his arm before he could hit his head.
"You're a mess."
"Nothing if not obvious. Let go." Rodney batted himself free, sinking to the floor.
He must have passed out because the next thing he knew he was lying in bed trying to hide from the god awful pounding on his door. "Mer. Don't make me come in there and drag you out."
"Go away," he mumbled. When did Jeannie get here? And what had happened to Ronon?
After the fifth knock, Jeannie pushed open the door, throwing his jacket onto the bed. "Get up, you're coming to Christmas. And don't even try to argue with me."
Chisels in his head kept him from doing just that. Still in the previous night's clothes, he forced himself up with a deep moan. "I hate holidays. You know that."
"You hate life, Mer, and I don't want to hear it. You're not dead yet and you are coming."
Jeannie gave him enough time to shave and push down his thinning hair. Entering the living room, he grabbed a picture off the mantle, his team all holding each other at the Holiday barbeque just two years ago. He had been dragged by the skin of his teeth, but he held tight to the memory just the same. So much had changed…
Jeannie turned on the television as she waited, and Rodney listened as the news reporter spewed forth the daily despair.
"At 4:30 this morning, the Wraith culled Colorado Springs. There were no survivors. World leaders continue to insist that they have a plan to defeat this foe, but as each culling passes, people continue to lose hope. For a world that just two months ago ignored the existence of alien life, it is proving to be a bleak holiday season. Here in Canada, the Prime Minister has emphasized a need to continue with daily life as normal, but panic ensues on a large scale as people turn to raids…."
The picture shattered against the fireplace, shards scratching against the images of Sheppard and Teyla. There were no miracles and he was tired of hoping.
December 2006
Rodney failed his first test when he was eighteen. He was in his last year as an undergrad. Physics and Mathematics were all simple subjects to him, but creative writing was his bane. The only reason he had bothered taking the class in the first place was because a hot blond had hinted that she thought it would be good for him. That maybe it would round out some of his rougher edges—whatever that was supposed to mean. Figuring it would take him that much closer to a date with her, he had signed up.
When he saw the D on his transcript, he wasted no time in storming to the professor's office, opening the door without knocking, and then wrapping his arms across his chest while scowling.
"Do you have any idea who I am?"
Unfazed by the sudden and rude entrance, the professor gazed at Rodney behind round spectacles. He tipped back his leather chair, the slightest hint of a smile between his thin lips. "Rodney McKay, 18, received your first grant at 15 for your research in Thermal Dynamics."
"And do you have any idea what a D looks like on my transcript?"
"The larger question is whether or not I care."
Rodney rocked on his feet, his fists clenched into one another behind his rigid back. Chin aloft, he took a deep breath before speaking. "Why?"
"Why what? Why don't I care? Why'd you deserve the grade? Or why does it bother you so much?"
"It was a good story."
"It was junk. The technical jargon was incoherent to anyone who wasn't a scientist and I've found more emotion in what I had for breakfast than what I found in your characters."
"Just because you can't understand—"
"Stories should sound like poetry, Rodney, not proofs."
"You're just jealous that I'm smarter. This grade is some kind of stupid revenge because you can't even begin to contemplate anything on the level I can." Rodney was fuming as he stared down at the professor, daring him to deny the obvious evidence.
"Is that what you think?"
Rodney nodded. "As a matter of fact, yes, it is."
"I see." Placing his pen down on the desk, the professor rose to full height. He straightened his patchwork jacket and cleared his throat. "The story was written by a man who has absolutely no sense of what life is about. It's as if the words were carefully crafted by a machine, and to be honest, I'm not so sure that they weren't. Rodney, there's a whole world out there that you ignore when you lock yourself in your lab day and night. How can you hope to write when you don't even know what it is to live?"
Years later, and the professor's words still echoed in Rodney's mind. He had thought, at first, that the professor was just another idiot that couldn't see greatness from an inch away, just like his piano teacher.
"One of these days, Rodney," his professor had said, "you're going to learn that there is more to life than perfection. There is richness in this world you will never know until you learn to open yourself up and allow yourself to feel…to live."
It was rubbish, right? Just more of that nonsense that English teachers liked to spew in order to feel better about not being smarter. Just rubbish, right?
While Rodney loathed to admit that professor of oh-so-limited intellect had been correct, his time on Atlantis had opened his eyes to a way of being that he had never truly known before. Maybe Rodney hadn't really lived until he came there.
Maybe that's why Rodney died inside when he lost it all.
Typing furiously at his laptop, Rodney ignored the Christmas music emanating from the citywide com. The lab had long since emptied, everyone taking their jolly spirits with them, leaving Rodney to the peace of his lab. Sheppard would be down soon to drag him to the festivities, whether Rodney wanted him to or not, so the scientist concentrated on moving as fast as he could without being careless. Some things couldn't wait and failure was not an option, despite what his creative writing instructor seemed to believe.
"You work too hard."
Rodney jumped when he heard the unexpected voice. He minimized the program quickly, before Radek could come any closer, all the while glancing upward with a contrived smile. "Yes, well, someone has to make sure the city keeps running." It hurt to look at Radek, almost as if he were looking at a ghost. In many ways, he was.
If Radek was aware of Rodney's unease, he didn't show it. "It will not break down for one night. Go. Enjoy yourself."
"This is enjoying myself. What are you doing here?" Rodney watched with wary eyes as Radek stepped toward his corner of the lab, pulling out an computer identical to Rodney's.
"I am an obsessive man just like you. I have come to check on the device and make sure everything is still working."
"You don't trust that I would have noticed if something were wrong? Please, Radek, give me more credit than that." Setting down his laptop Rodney reached behind his back, clasping his hand against cold metal. There was an echo of screams in his head, of Jeannie shouting as the culling beams swept her away. He wasn't going to allow that to happen…not again.
"You know I trust you, Rodney, I just wish to see with my own eyes how things are progressing. The idea of fully charged ZPMs has all of us excited."
"Radek, take a night off, go to the party. Enjoy yourself."
"This will take but a minute."
Radek was lost in his laptop now, and Rodney knew he wouldn't see the shot coming. Tightening his grip on the handle, Rodney pictured a culled earth and a lost Atlantis…Despite what Ronon had said, it really had been Rodney's fault, and it was his job to fix it. To change things…
Rodney watched Radek type, summoning the files on the device. Fear roiled in Rodney's gut, but he found himself speaking in a steady but firm voice. "Radek, close the computer and go away."
"Rodney?" Looking up from the screen, Radek tilted his head in confusion. "Something is wrong?"
"Go. Now."
"What is happening, Rodney? Tell me."
"Nothing is happening. I don't want you here right now, okay? Just go."
"No. No, something is very wrong." Radek took a step back, his gaze half on the computer and half on Rodney. "Why do you not wish to tell me?"
Rodney didn't have time for this. Though he knew it was only his imagination, he could hear his watch tick away each passing second. Each one another chance for everything to go horribly wrong all over again. History would repeat itself.
"I'm sorry, Radek." He lifted the gun and pulled the trigger with the methodical coldness of a soldier. His arm shaking, he watched as Radek slumped to the floor.
The stun gun didn't carry the crack a pistol did, but it was still loud. Loud enough to draw attention if anyone was in the area. Praying no one had heard, Rodney raced to his laptop, typing in the protocols as fast as was humanly possible. The lockout codes enabled, he moved to Radek.
"Now see, why couldn't you just listen to me for once," he whined as he checked for injuries from the fall. When he felt a small bump covered in a sticky liquid, he radioed the infirmary for a medical team and sat, waiting. In just a few moments, he would lose everything and yet he would gain so much more.
He wondered briefly about this life he had found on Atlantis and how he was throwing it all away. What would his creative writing teacher think if he could witness this? Rodney McKay, brilliant scientist, driven entirely by emotions, was embracing failure to change the past and save the future?
…
"The past and future intertwine in passing weaves. The time traveler may make his journey of change only in keeping his silence of the future."
…
When the call came over the city-wide com, John had been half-way through his first eggnog. He raced to the infirmary with his Santa hat jingling all the way. He wondered who had managed to get themselves injured when everyone had the day off, not to mention badly enough to warrant the tech calling him and Elizabeth to the scene.
"What's the problem?" he asked, his eyes falling immediately to Zelenka, who was unconscious on a nearby bed. Beside him, Rodney sat on an adjacent gurney, tapping his fingers on the white sheets. The scientist didn't look up, much less acknowledge that John and Elizabeth had entered.
"Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Weir, I'm sorry to drag you away from the festivities." The new night-shift doctor motioned for John and Elizabeth to follow her into a side office. Passing a curious glance toward Rodney, John followed.
"Dr. McKay called for a medical team approximately 25 minutes ago. We arrived at the lab to find Dr. Zelenka unconscious and suffering from a mild concussion."
"He passed out?" Elizabeth asked, fiddling with the felt antlers in her hand.
"No. Apparently, Dr. McKay stunned him. Approximately 15 minutes before he bothered calling for the med team."
John, unsure that he heard right, had to replay the words in his own mind. Passing a glance at Elizabeth, he crossed his arms against his chest, leaned against the door, and muttered, "I'm sorry, did you just say Rodney shot Radek?"
"Stunned him, yes."
"And just what makes you think he would do something like that?"
Elizabeth held up a hand as if to say she could handle this, but John just shook his head. A doctor who had only been on Atlantis for what, two months, was accusing Rodney of stunning Radek.
"You don't have to take my word for it, Colonel." The doctor's brown eyes burrowed into his own, alight with a defiant fire. "You can ask Rodney yourself."
"You're saying he admitted to this?" Elizabeth tossed the antlers onto a seat. Her face was flushed, supposedly from the holiday eggnog. "Why would…"
"All I know is that when we arrived at the scene and asked what happened, Dr. McKay said he had stunned Dr. Zelenka and then asked if Zelenka was going to be okay. Since then, he's refused to answer most of our questions."
Without waiting for another word, John pushed past the door. He came to a halt before Rodney, whose head was still bowed low.
"I know you don't like the holidays, Rodney, but don't you think this is taking it a little too far?"
No answer. He could see Rodney's hand shaking…trembling. The closer he looked, the more John could see it was actually Rodney's whole body doing so. His face was pale and there were red flakes on his skin and blood smeared on his pants.
"Okay…How about this? You start telling me what's going on and I'll just listen."
Rodney looked up with bloodshot eyes, but there was something in them that hadn't been there before…something hollow or painful perhaps. "Rodney?"
"I shot him."
"Yeah, I think we established that much. I'm a little more interested in the why at this point."
"The why…the how…Did you know that scientific progress is composed by asking those same two pieces over and over again?"
"You're avoiding my questions."
Rodney's fingers continued to tap on the mattress. He moved his gaze back toward his legs, then up to Elizabeth and the doctor that must have been standing there the whole time. "I can't answer," he mumbled.
John turned once more to the women. "Give us some room."
Encouraged by Elizabeth, the doctor returned to her office. Elizabeth continued to stand there, glanced at Rodney, and then, patting each man's shoulder, moved toward the opposite end of the infirmary. John watched her tap her earpiece, probably calling for scientists to scope Rodney's lab for any clues.
"Now can you answer?"
"No." Rodney closed his eyes as if fighting away a headache. He opened them again to peer at John with a determined gaze. "I can't tell you what happened. I can't explain. I just…I had to, okay. I had to make sure that no one interfered before I was finished."
"Interfered? With what?" Tightness knotted itself within John's stomach. Doubt, fear…was this really Rodney? Thoughts of alien possession, mind control, and clones all ran through his mind.
"I can't tell you, but I need you to trust me. Please."
John pushed his unease aside while patting his friend on the back. "I'm going to have Carson come and check you over. After that, we'll talk."
…
Midnight was fast approaching. Carson sipped at his coffee, concentrating on the information beside him. Between the festivities and figuring out what was wrong with Rodney, he was exhausted and the night was just starting. He'd already run Rodney through the MRI, blood work, and vitals checks. Leaving his patient to rest, he'd started sifting through the results, but so far there was nothing to explain the strange behavior.
Carson hadn't noticed the sound at first, maybe because he'd been humming carols beneath his breath. When the moan came again, Carson pushed his work aside and moved out into the main room. Rodney's eyes were clenched shut. Low moans called from beneath his breath. Upon his approach, Carson noticed the sheets were lightly damp.
"Rodney?"
His patient didn't awaken nor did he stop shaking. He whispered beneath his breath, and though Carson could barely make out the words, Jeannie's name was unmistakable.
"Rodney." He tried again.
Bright blue eyes shot open. "No!" Rodney screamed. His breathing harsh, he turned to Carson, but instead of calming down, he flailed his arms further into the air and kicked back against his bed. "Y…Y…You're dead."
"Calm down, Rodney. You were just having one doozy of a nightmare."
"Nightmare?" Rodney's chin tilted slightly. His breathing evened. Gazing at Carson as though he were seeing through a ghost, he muttered, "Yes, um, of course…I…" Though there was still confusion in his gaze.
The sound of someone clearing their throat came from across the room. Carson turned to see Sheppard in nonchalant mode, his way of hiding worry. Behind him, Teyla, Ronon, and Elizabeth watched with their own concerned expressions.
"Excuse me just a moment, Rodney. This'll just take a moment."
"What's wrong with him?" Ronon asked the moment Carson was within earshot.
"Nothing as far as the tests are concerned. A few problems with nightmares and headaches, but nothing to explain his recent actions."
"Miko thinks she found something," John explained. There was a darkness in his gaze that Carson didn't like one bit. It was the same look John received whenever the colonel was about to do something he hated. John shared this look with Elizabeth, a silent argument taking place beneath the surface. Although Carson could see this much, he had no idea what was actually being said.
"I'll let Elizabeth catch you up, Carson, but for now, I'm going to try talking to Rodney again. See if we can't sort this out."
Carson nodded, allowing Sheppard to pass into the infirmary. Brushing by Pegasus's version of mistletoe, he led the rest back to his office, rubbing his weary eyes. Maybe someone would gift him some much needed rest for Christmas.
…
John watched Rodney settle, his head lifted in arrogance. "Come to wish me a Merry Christmas have you? Big surprise, I know, but I'm not actually much into the holiday…"
"Why'd you lock us out of the ZPM charging research?"
"Ah. Figured that out already, did you?"
"Miko did."
Rodney's fingers returned to nervously tapping on his sheets. He gazed up at John a time or two as if about to explain. Then finally, drawing in a deep breath, he whispered, "I can't allow you to use the device."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you."
John used his best 'I'm not buying it' expression, but it fell flat at Rodney's feet. He kept his voice firm, a clear indication that he was in no mood for kidding around. "You've been gung-ho about this project for weeks now. Its completion is the only reason you didn't visit your sister for the holidays, Rodney. Why the sudden change?"
"It's dangerous."
John jumped onto the nearest gurney, surveying his friend closely. "So you decided to sabotage the project instead of explain that to us."
No longer tapping, Rodney's hand nervously clenched the sheets. "I couldn't risk the chance that you might not believe me."
"Why wouldn't we…"
"Because I don't have any evidence. I can't tell you how I know, I just do."
John examined his friend with a penetrating stare, searching for some clue, any clue that would tell him what was happening. "What is going on here, Rodney?"
Silence. It only confirmed that something was very wrong. Rodney McKay was many things, but rarely silent.
Maybe it was time for a different approach. "So what's wrong with the device?"
"I can't tell you."
"Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a broken record."
"Better than a broken record stuck on Christmas carols. Someone should really change the station already…"
Little Drummer Boy had started overhead and John had to agree that perhaps the carols were getting a little…irritating. But there were more important things to concentrate on right now. Straightening his back, John once more examined his bedraggled friend.
"I want to believe you. Really, I do. But look at things from my view. You shot Radek and locked us out of a project. You won't tell us why you did these things other then to say that the project is dangerous without offering any evidence to back you up. I think we deserve more than that."
"You just need to trust me."
"Shooting Radek…"
"Stunning. He was getting in the way. I didn't have a choice."
"In the way of what? Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?'
"Yes, Colonel, believe it or not I have a pretty good idea. Now, if you don't have anything else to do but barrage me with questions, I'd prefer to get some sleep…"
It wasn't exactly the way John had wanted to spend Christmas, investigating Rodney's uncharacteristic actions. By all rights he should be on his tenth glass of eggnog now, convincing the hot new girl from the Chem lab to join him for some private celebrations, not wasting his time here. But it was Christmas in Pegasus so he probably shouldn't have expected any different.
Stretching against the bed, John took a deep breath. "Miko discovered something interesting while she was combing your systems. Something it looked like you were trying to convince Atlantis to hide, but hadn't quite managed."
"I was running out of time. It would have taken too long and Radek had hit his head…"
"Damn it, Rodney. Why the hell wouldn't you want us to know the Wraith were hours away from the Pahtghar planet?"
Silence again, which was quickly beginning to creep John out.
"They have a shield and an empty ZPM. If we can charge it before the Wraith get there…"
"No! Listen to me very carefully, Colonel, you cannot, under any circumstances, activate that device."
"Okay, just assuming you were right, at the very least we could have tried evacuating them."
"They won't leave, and you know it. They're convinced the shield is a gift from the gods, and when we so much as inferred that it might not work, they were ready to lynch us. You not knowing, changed nothing."
Reaching out, Sheppard grabbed tight to Rodney's arm. "What's wrong with the device? And don't you dare say you can't tell me, because that's bullshit and you know it." Their eyes locked. John had grown used to Rodney's gaze falling first, but minutes passed and Rodney still did not flinch. John was acutely aware of the way his chest moved in and out, his temper accenting everything. "Rodney, give me something here. Anything!"
"Santa hats don't suit you." Rodney pulled his arm away, and John decided not to fight him.
"Rodney…"
"Colonel."
" We're talking about thousands of lives here. There's still time to fix the device and save them, all we need is for you to unlock the system…"
"No."
"No? What the hell is no supposed to mean?"
"No. No information and no codes. I can't."
John could see the pain in Rodney's eyes, the way he flinched every time he denied an explanation.
"You should know that I talked with Elizabeth before I came here. Neither of us is convinced that you're not under alien influence or whatever else. The fact that you attacked Zelenka doesn't really help alleviate that concern."
"Oh, please, Colonel. Alien possession is rarely the answer."
"Well, you have to admit your behavior is more than a little off. Rodney, we're talking about the death of thousands of villagers. Villagers willing to be our allies. Villagers in possession of Ancient technology they don't know how to use. Living, breathing people that are going to die in less than a day if you don't unlock what you've done!"
McKay bit down on thin lips, then with a subdued voice asked, "Is there a point, Colonel?"
Sheppard tugged his arms behind his back, the words stinging before he could even say them. He knew where Elizabeth was coming from, and maybe would have agreed if it wasn't Rodney…but he did have his orders, and he wasn't sure they were wrong either. At last, he pushed past his dry throat to utter the words. "Thousands of lives and a ZPM power source are at stake. You can either give us an explanation, unlock the research and the charger, or you can spend Christmas morning and beyond in the brig. Your choice."
"Really?" Rodney scoffed. Their eyes locked once more in the heated battle. "And just what is that supposed to accomplish?"
"Well, I think the general idea is to get you to say something other than 'I can't tell you'. Maybe something that can save those villagers' lives or give us a damn good reason why we shouldn't."
"Because trust isn't enough for you, Colonel?" Rodney's stare burned cold. Tearing away the attached medical equipment, Rodney jumped to the floor.
"I trust you, Rodney," Sheppard's fists were now tightly clenched, though he didn't remember when they had become so. "But you didn't trust us first. You're the one that shot Radek. You're the one that locked us out of the information, and you're the one that sure as hell isn't acting like himself. What would you expect me to do?"
"Well quarters over the brig would be nice, wouldn't it? Or I don't know, maybe the infirmary or an isolation room. We are supposedly friends."
He could say it was Elizabeth's orders and not his, that he did want to resort only to the quarters or the infirmary, but what would that achieve? He was a soldier and it was his job to protect, and to him that responsibility fell on protecting those thousands of villagers. He unclenched his fists and spoke slowly so as not to lose his temper at the situation in general. "We are…friends, Rodney. But that's not what this is about. It's about saving lives and power. Why do I think the cushiness of your quarters isn't going to convince you to talk?"
Rodney glared at his friend but then his gaze fell and his visible anger slipped away. "I knew what I was doing. You have your job and I have mine. If that means spending the rest of the night in the brig, whatever, just…fine. Let's go already."
…
December 2007
Rodney heard Jeannie scream just before the flash of light swept her and Madison away. So when he saw the light consume himself, he was convinced it was a culling beam grabbing him as well. But then he materialized on the Asgard ship with two of the gray aliens staring intently at him.
"Dr. Rodney McKay?" one of the Asgard asked. Rodney once thought all Asgard looked the same, but even before the alien had spoken, Rodney could see this was not Hermiod.
"Um…Yes?"
"We have come to assist."
December 2006
As much as it pained him, Rodney did not understand the physics of time travel. He didn't know how the Asgard time machine worked, merely that it sent him to the past. He didn't know how speaking of the future and what he had come to change would hurt things, only that he was promised it would. He knew the Asgard had their reasons for keeping this secret, no doubt out of a desire to keep him from creating his own machine, but that didn't stop it from annoying him. And then there was the immediacy of the Wraith firing on them, keeping back any and all questions. For Rodney it was, 'hello, here's the rules, press the button,' and presto, he was in the past.
What Rodney really wanted to know: What had happened to the previous him? Was he just his old self with the future memories or was there some other McKay wandering around Atlantis? Probably not, given someone would have figured that out by now.
However it all came together, it was a source of great frustration to Rodney. He was a scientist, and as such, the how and why were just as important as the what.
As he walked down the corridors with John in tow, he found himself staring at Atlantis's bulkheads and breathing in her silent pulse. He wasn't sure any of this was real, and was half-convinced everything was the hallucination of tainted scotch, but given the circumstances, he'd take this delusion any day. It was enough to hear Atlantis breathe. To see John and Carson. To feel alive again.
Life. After years of falling into death, Rodney had forgotten what it was to live.
"You know, Rodney," John muttered, "I'm starting to think all of this was just a clever way of avoiding the Christmas Eve party."
"Oh please, I'm not that anti-social."
"Really? Are you sure, because I seem to recall having to get you drunk last year before you would so much as set a foot near the festivities."
There was comfort in listening to John talk. Silently, Rodney clung to that voice—the one that he had longed to hear for a year now, but believed impossible. True, John was taking him to a holding cell, which did put a small damper on the situation, but confinement was better than John being dead. Better than Atlantis falling to the Wraith.
"Oh look, here's our stop," Rodney scoffed with false cheerfulness. "I don't suppose you'd care to open the door for me?"
"Rodney, will you please, just…give us something…" John's face was covered in a military mask, but Rodney could see the hidden pain. He could also see the silent plea within the hazel gaze, asking—begging—for Rodney not to make him do this.
"Just open the door, Colonel. And quit being so hard on yourself. It's not as if you asked me to shoot Radek or anything."
"Would you stop being so stubborn?"
"Stubborn is what I am. Right next to arrogant and condescending. Face it, that's why you love hanging around me."
"Hardly."
The brig door slid open, halting with a thud. Rodney roamed inside with a subdued shiver. "Have you ever wondered why there aren't any toilets in these things? For being an Ancient cell it's surprisingly…impractical."
"Yeah, well, you can always ask the Marine on duty to escort you to the facilities."
Rodney turned only to see John grimacing behind the still unclosed door. He had been expecting a joke in return, not a serious answer. It wasn't like John not to take the bait. Well as long as the guilt was there, Rodney might as well use it in his favor.
"Okay…I don't suppose I could convince you to have a cot sent down here as well?"
John shifted on his feet, and though he said nothing aloud, Rodney knew his thoughts. Probably something about taking away from the whole non-cushy feature of the brig. A moment later, John reached for the door controls with his boyish smile, "I'll see what I can do."
The cell activated with a display of lights accompanied by a quick swoosh. Rodney moved to the sole bench in the room. Dust filled the enclosed area as Rodney brushed the surface with his jacket's sleeve. Taking a seat, he noticed John was still there…staring and grimacing.
"What?"
"Nothing. I'll be back, okay."
"Sure, whatever." When John still hadn't moved, Rodney found himself visibly shooing the colonel away. "Go already. Do I look like an exhibit to you?"
Without so much as a retort, John turned on his heels and, much to Rodney's relief, left. Kicking his feet on the bench, Rodney leaned back and closed his eyes. He was so very tired and had this been a steaming hot desert filled with burning coals, he still would have fallen asleep in minutes. As it was, it only took a few seconds.
…
He was back at Jeannie's house, though he was sure he shouldn't be there a second ago. Madison was hugging him, the bright smile of a four-year-old leaving him little choice but to smile in return.
"Thank you, thank you! The best gift ever!" she exclaimed.
On the sofa, Jeannie and Caleb held each other, joyful gazes set on their daughter.
"See, Mer, you can be sweet."
Rodney saw the Totoro doll clutched tightly in Madison's hand, so much like the one he really had bought her, but…no…this wasn't right. He never did make it to Jeannie's house for Christmas, the Wraith had made sure of that.
"Perhaps you would like to open my gift, Rodney?" Beneath the glittery tree, Teyla sat cross-legged. She held a small box wrapped in gold paper.
Teyla? Teyla had died. True, he'd never actually seen it, but Atlantis had fallen and the Wraith had been there. Surely there was no way that even someone as strong as Teyla could have survived. So why was she here?
He realized then that he was dreaming. He remembered the cold bench in the brig, and John's conflict with placing him in there. He remembered the overly happy music blaring on the speakers, singing of miracles and hope. As if miracles weren't just an unexplained act of science. He then thought of his mission to change the past and save his family.
"Rodney?" Teyla moved toward him, placing the gifts in his hand. "Are you okay?"
"This isn't real."
"I brought you a gift. It is your tradition, is it not?"
Compelled by curiosity, Rodney loosened the silver bow, but he kept his gaze on Teyla. He had missed her so much over the last year. Had missed everyone so much that it had built a giant hole in his heart, one that he knew would never fill again. Not unless he could have them back.
He held the coil, watching as an oblong box with a single blue button rocked back and forth. The time machine.
"It is an ornament. I believe you hang it on the tree."
"Th…thank you. It's very…uh…nice."
"You are welcome. Have you read the inscription?"
"The past and future intertwine in passing weaves. The time traveler may make his journey of change only in keeping his silence of the future. But he does not make this journey alone."
Rodney gazed at her and his sister, holding to the moment as though it were the sweetest of chocolates. Their smiles, so very alive, warmed him. And yet…yet it was not real.
Jeannie started a sweet 'Amazing Grace' on the piano, singing with an angelic voice. Teyla stopped the swinging ornament in her hand, as both listened to the music.
"Ascension is different," Teyla whispered, her warm hand coming onto his shoulder. "Time and space mean nothing to energy."
"I've changed the past. You're alive now."
"Yes. But an echo of the future—our past—remains."
Rodney nodded, wishing he could understand more clearly this science that evaded him. Instead he closed his eyes, soaking in his sister's beautiful song. "I…I…" He couldn't find the words, so he stopped trying.
Teyla's hand continued to hold him gently. "I am here with you, Rodney. We all are and we just thought you should know."
He could feel them. John, Elizabeth, Teyla…all of them beside him, though he didn't understand the tableau.
"Find your strength in us," Teyla whispered.
The tree blurred into a single light, and though Rodney willed himself to sleep longer, he felt the image fade away, only the warmth remaining.
"Merry Christmas, Rodney." Teyla—the real Teyla—stood within the cold cell accompanied by Ronon and Sheppard. Each wore a Santa hat. Teyla helped him sit up, while John put a matching hat on Rodney's head despite the glare it earned him.
"What're you guys doing here?" Rodney asked, noticing the neatly made cot adorning the opposite end of the cell.
"We have come to keep you company."
"Yeah, what Teyla said," Ronon muttered.
"No one should be alone on Christmas, not even Scrooge." John grinned, but Rodney could still see the hurt shoved behind his mask.
"Is this some new torture technique to get me to talk?"
"Shut up and eat your chocolate. Ronon had to kick three Marine's butts to get it."
"Wasn't hard," Ronon muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
At the mention of chocolate, Rodney perked up. John passed a tree-shaped candy to him and he tore off the wrapper greedily, forgetting the last time he had managed to eat. Not since the time change at the very least.
"I'm confused. I thought you brought me here so I wouldn't be comfortable?"
"One hour, Rodney. One hour of Christmas and then I'll go back to interrogating you." John averted his eyes as he spoke.
Rodney gazed at his family and despite himself smiled. "What time is it?"
"0530. And look, Santa came." John motioned to Rodney's hat, a goofy smile plastered to his face. It was disturbing.
…
One hour passed quickly. Ronon, a surprising lightweight given his size, had become tipsy before even Rodney, and his attempt at Joy to the World couldn't have stopped soon enough. Though John found himself laughing so hard, he nearly lost his own drink through his nose.
Halfway through, Rodney had started relaxing as well. And as he did, the more John believed this was his friend and not some alien presence. He liked to think he knew the difference anyway, but experience had taught him that appearances were too easily deceiving. Still, he'd talk to Elizabeth. If this was Rodney, it really was wrong to keep him locked here.
He watched Rodney's flushed cheeks intently, then glanced at the other two teammates, cuing them in to the change of theme. "Miko's had all the scientists examining the device—not that you left them much to work with. Thus far they can't find anything wrong with it."
Rodney's posture shifted. His back rigid, he raised his chin. "There's nothing they can find," he slurred.
"Then why is it dangerous?" John felt a pang in his stomach. Was it wrong to get his friend drunk in search of information? No, that's not why he did it. The celebration had been genuine. If Rodney did speak, however…
"Oh, no, Colonel. I'm not that drunk. I couldn't tell you before and I can't tell you now."
"Hours, Rodney. That's how long the villagers have."
"How goes trying to evacuate them?"
John swept the jingling hat from his head, wondering how Lorne's team was progressing on that front. "We're trying to convince them as we speak, but you were right. They've got in their heads that their powerless shield will save them. Apparently saying anything different is to offend their god or something."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. So you want to tell us how to fix this yet?"
Rodney rolled his eyes, and then quickly pressed them shut. He placed his hand to his head. "I can't," he muttered between clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, but you just have to trust me."
Teyla broke in, "You are asking us to stand by and watch as thousands of people die. People we can save."
"Yeah, I suppose I am." Rodney shook his head, placing his empty glass on the bench. "I can't talk about it. Why can't you accept that? Why can't you trust me?"
"How do we know you're you?" It was Ronon who spoke this time, his voice breaking. "Blind trust gets people hurt."
Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but John cut him off. "What Ronon's trying to say is that we do trust you, Rodney, but you have to realize how bad this looks."
"I…I…" Rodney lapsed back into silence, his eyes clenched tight.
"Headache?" Teyla's arm caressed his trembling shoulder.
At Rodney's nod, John maneuvered away, quietly calling for Carson over the headset. That taken care of, he came back to his friends and waited, wishing he could just wake up and find it was all a dream.
TBC