Part 4

His hands hurt. McKay felt it through Sheppard's memory as he wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist and kept digging. Beside him, others pulled rock away, spaded out pockets of broken blocks and gravel. Someone gave him a pair of gloves, he didn't know who - he pulled them on and kept going.

The rescue team arrived from Atlantis, and he was gently shuffled aside as the heavier equipment was brought in to move the largest blocks that had fallen. They were well trained, and there was little conversation as they managed to clear the worst of the rock away, moving deeper and deeper into the underground room.

He'd caught his breath and was accepting a drink from someone's canteen when the activity stopped, and a grim faced Marine made his way back the ten meters or so they'd dug, stopping a few feet from him.

He could still feel the dead coldness of certainty. He'd waited half a second, just to have that time more that he wouldn't need to face the reality, then he stood, handed off the canteen. Followed the Marine to where the team waited. Half buried in smaller rubble he saw the edge of the uniform, the heel of a boot.

Like an automaton, he'd moved towards the pile, begun clearing it carefully. The team helped. He felt a presence beside him and looked - Teyla was digging steadily, tears rolling down her face. There was one very large rock. Maybe it was resting on another, maybe there was a gap…and then they got to the blood, and it wasn't resting on another rock. There wasn't a gap.

McKay found it odd to see what had been, at that moment, to Sheppard, his own dead body. He felt Sheppard swallow hard on the bile, and felt the battle between training and emotion won by training. He helped with the removal of the final rock, held Teyla for a moment when they saw what was left of their friend.

xxxxx

"Ready for the cable." Kavanagh reached out, and Grodin passed it on. Zelenka babysat a naquadah generator with Ford standing behind him, watching the scientist play the controls like a piano. "Connected. Go."

The power grew, gradually, and Beckett was at the monitors, watching. "Little more," he said. "Little more…hold it!"

Weir hovered, waiting. "That'll do for a bit. It's supporting the interfaces now, stopping the leaks." He sighed, turned his attention to his friends. "Means it'll be the metabolic imbalances that do it for them."

"Time, Doctor. It bought us a bit more time." She looked over to the brain trust. "Any luck with the other access?"

"Not yet, Doctor, but we're still working on it."

xxxxx

He opened his eyes, shuddering, lying on his back on the sand, McKay next to him on his side. Evidently the physicist had tried to keep him from falling, and then the memories had caught them both, dragging them down.

He had a feeling whatever was happening was still unfinished, and looked beyond McKay's body. The shape was still there.

He looked back at McKay. Blue eyes met brown warily.

"Did you just…" Sheppard started.

"Yeah. You too?"

"Me too."

McKay rolled on his back too, breaking the gaze. "Explains some stuff."

"Yeah."

"Someone's watching," the physicist said a second later.

"I saw, just before...whatever that was."

"Not surprising. I'd think there'd be some kind of way to see what was happening. Probably Kate. Maybe Elizabeth."

"She's welcome to watch. Not much to see."

There was a pause.

"So," McKay said.

"So." It was a bit uncomfortable, Sheppard found, realizing what their friendship meant to the temperamental physicist. And even more so realizing it meant at least as much to him.

"Guess we talked, huh?" McKay didn't look at him.

"Could call it that. Better than a heart to heart."

"I guess you saw me at my worst," McKay said. "Now you know for certain how weak I am. It's just as well I don't go offworld."

Sheppard blinked in disbelief. "You thought I took you off the team because you were weak? Are you nuts?"

"The whole indispensable thing was just to feed my ego. It might have worked, too, if you guys hadn't pretty much shunned me once the decision was made." His voice was quiet, miserable. "Just a few chats with the old gang, might have made it easier for my transition back tolab geek."

"I never thought you were weak." Sheppard stumbled over the words. "Not in my wildest nightmares. And now, seeing what…" he stopped, swallowed. "Weak? You're stronger than I ever imagined."

"Well then, why did you do it?" He was really mad, now, and Sheppard stared. "What was it Heightmeyer said to you, way back when, she said she'd told you the faster I could get back with the team the better. She wasn't just talking, you know."

That did it. He reached over and grabbed McKay by one wrist, hoping it was the contact that triggered it…

…the rest of it was a blur. He knew he'd called in, organized the recovery effort. He'd done everything right, the report was made. The rain had helped him forget he was crying, but then it had stopped, a brisk wind had picked up and he'd gone back inside his room.

He shucked his clothes, feeling in memory the wet fabric stick to him. McKay's presence still clung, when it had happened for real it had been just wishful thinking…

He pulled on his sweats, his t-shirt, and lay down on his bed, arm over his eyes. That didn't work. He kept seeing the excavation, what was left of the body. He felt the odd lightness of the bag as they carried it back. It cycled in his mind, over and over, and he sat, finally, and stood, and slammed out of his room, running from the memory.

It didn't help. Out of breath, panting, finally, he stopped, outside the door he dreaded opening. But someone would have to do it, it should be him, he supposed. He was the team commander. It was suitable he be the one to clear his best friend's quarters.

'best friend…'

He thought the door open, stepped in, stopped inside. It was a mistake, he knew, as his throat closed against the sob. Not now. Maybe not ever could he do this, but it was still better than his own quarters. He could feel McKay's presence here. There was another jacket tossed over a chair, it was a uniform jacket, just like the one he'd been wearing…

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control himself. And then he found himself with the jacket in hand, sitting in the corner next to the chair, hiding from the pain, hiding from the rest of his friends while he wept over the loss of the one that had filled the brother-shaped hole in his life.

xxxxx

"I don't know how much more of this they can take," Beckett said bleakly. It had been another crisis, and again the chairs had performed their functions, but the bodies they maintained continued to weaken.

Grodin jumped back as something hissed and spat. "Damn!"

"What?" Zelenka asked.

"We can't get into the transfer bus," the Englishman replied. "Nothing we do will make the interface take."

Kavanagh sighed. "That's it, then. They're beyond our help."

It was a measure of their fatigue that the coldness of the comment passed with only a few glares.

"Radek?" Weir asked quietly.

"He is correct." Zelenka replied. "We have exhausted the possibilities from out here. We must hope that they are able to complete whatever task it is they have set themselves." He stared at the chairs and their occupants. "We must hope they find oak."

She glanced at him, and he shrugged. "Anger is pine. Burns quickly. Hope is oak." He smiled. "Rodney said that."

xxxxx

Teyla watched the woman carefully. This person knew so many secrets. She was the repository of fears, hopes, dreams for so many people, yet she carried the burden lightly.

Before this, she'd had no contact with the small core of psychologists the others had brought, in fact the concept had been completely foreign to her. Now, though, understanding the complexity of the lives the Earthers had left, and the complexity of the lives led here, she could begin to understand the need, though she couldn't see any reason any Athosian would need to avail themselves of their services. Even her name was edged, hard to remember. But she was here, now, wanting to help her teammates, and for that she was grateful

Who did Heightmeyer confide in, she found herself wondering. Upon whose' shoulders did she lean?

She stepped forward, concerned, as the woman began to weep - it was silent, still, tears simply tracing their patient path down her face. Teyla knew better than to remove the headset, and simply reached out, holding her nearest hand in both of her own.

xxxxx

Excerpt from the letters of Dr. K. Heightmeyer

I can't describe it properly. I was there, with them, through the two worst moments in their lives, and the connection they had with each other was the core of what got them through. I've seen things that I never should have, but I'm not sorry for it either. It's what makes it worth it, glimpses of nobility and the fact that we have an almost limitless capacity to care for each other.

I always thought they were decent people, but now I admire them without reservation.

xxxxx

"Too many deaths." Sheppard was vaguely aware it was his voice, but it seemed to be functioning without his conscious intervention. "I can't let it happen again. No more."

"John." Someone was crouched above him. "John, wake up. It's over. I'm still here."

He opened his eyes, looked up at McKay, reaching for him, pulling back, fearful of starting the memory cycles again. Sheppard felt, though, that particular part of this whole thing was over, and he reached up and grasped McKay's hand. McKay winced, eyes shut, but when nothing happened he opened his eyes again.

"Weird," he said, and helped Sheppard sit.

"I'm so damn tired."

"Me too." McKay sat next to him again. There was a short pause.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't know."

Their words collided, and they grinned at each other.

"Best friend, huh?"

"I was wrong, wasn't I?"

It happened again, and this time they chuckled.

"You first."

McKay nodded. "So it wasn't because you thought I was weak. It was because you're selfish."

"Am not!" It was a kneejerk reaction, but then he paused a second. "Maybe I am. I couldn't help the deaths of my friends in Afghanistan. I thought I could keep you safe."

"Major, 'safe' and 'wraith' are mutually exclusive."

Sheppard dropped his head. "I don't want to lose any more friends," he admitted softly.

McKay toyed with the sand, picking up a handful and letting it trickle down. It was a real beach, now, and the grains had the warmth of the sun in them.

"You'd manage," he said softly. "You're strong. You'd survive."

"I don't want to have to." Sheppard reached over and caught some of the sand as it left McKay's fingers.

"I don't blame you. How could one live without my wit and good judgment?" He sighed. "But don't shut me out, John. You can't protect me by pushing me away."

"I have been trying that, haven't I?"

"And who do you think tracked the short down here - wherever we really are - and found you? You can't get rid of me that easily."

"So it would appear." He grinned at McKay, but it faded when it wasn't returned.

"What?"

"You were dying, that's why I hooked myself up. That probably means I'm dying too."

Sheppard glared. "You did what? You're deliberately trying to piss me off, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," McKay snapped. "I've got wires in my head just to annoy you – and you know how I feel about wires in my head. Zelenka was with me, and we'd called down backup, so I guess it's out of our hands now. Why you go off randomly sitting in things, what with that gene of yours and everything in the city falling over itself to be touched by you…"

"You know what?" Sheppard said, interrupting the rant. "I tried to open two other doors before I got to this one. They wouldn't open for me."

"Everything opens for you." McKay objected.

"Not this time. I think the city was steering me here. It wanted me to sit in the chair. Which means it won't let us die." Pleased with the logic, he grinned again at McKay, who sighed and managed a half-hearted one in return. "Trust me," he added.

"Do you trust me?" McKay tossed back.

"Absolutely." He held up a hand, forestalling the next sentence. "In fact, I'll talk to Elizabeth as soon as we're out of here. I'd like you back on the team." He raised a brow. "If you're interested."

"Oh, I think I can tear myself away from my fascinating study of how the Ancients' laundry worked."

Sheppard shoved him gently on the nearest shoulder, and McKay chuckled, caught his balance, shoved back. It had almost degenerated to a full-scale wrestling match when the beach, ocean and sky dissolved, and they were falling into blackness.

xxxxx

"They're done."

Teyla glanced up, heart in her eyes. The woman smiled at her and squeezed her hand briefly.

"They did it. The system will be releasing them soon."

She removed the headset and stood, wavered a bit. Teyla stepped to her side and she steadied herself, then thanked her in the Athosian manner, and from her it was an effortless thing, without the awkwardness most other Earthers displayed.

"We should tell Dr. Weir."

xxxxx

Weir hadn't really noticed the almost subliminal hum until it wasn't there. A few seconds after Kate appeared, the bands holding Sheppard and McKay into the chairs folded back into themselves, and the probes withdrew smoothly, leaving no marks at all.

Beckett was between the chairs an instant later, directing the gurneys, and everyone stood well out of the way. Weir looked around the faces as they waited, seeing concern on most. Detached interest on Kavanaugh's.

"What happened?" she asked, but Kate just shook her head.

"Six months of intensive psychotherapy," she replied. "It was astonishing. To put it simply, the machine gave them a chance to walk in the other's shoes. I'll want a couple of sessions with them, but the hard work's done..." she trailed off at the sound of a heart monitor squealing a warning, as the medical team reached the door.

"Arrhythmia," they heard Dr. Bibby report. "He's going down again..."

"Come on, Rodney, old son, don't you be doin' that..." Beckett's voice carried back through the door before it closed, and Teyla frowned.

"I believe there is still hard work to do," she said quietly.

xxxxx

Somehow, it was completely natural to wake up in the infirmary. He was wired up like a Christmas tree, he felt as weak as a kitten, and - he shifted - there were tubes where man was never meant to have tubes, but he was fully awake and aware.

He rolled his head over to one side and saw, without surprise, that McKay was also the recipient of the wire and tube package; at least, he presumed the tubes were there too; and between them Beckett dozed in a chair that actually looked fairly comfortable.

Must have been hiding that one, he mused. "Hey."

Becket woke instantly. "Major."

His voice was hoarse, but quite functional. "How's McKay?"

Beckett glanced over. "He'll be fine. He was in worse shape, though, so don't expect company for a bit." He eyed his patient. "That is, presuming you want company."

Sheppard nodded, aiming a warm grin in the sleeping physicist's direction.

"We - worked some stuff out. Good timing, though, getting us out when you did."

Beckett shook his head. "You did it, the two of you, somehow. We'd run out of options and you were both dying. You've been here pushing three days, incidentally." He adjusted the IV. "You were out of the woods after a day, but we weren't certain about Rodney until last night. You were talking to him, Major. Don't you remember?"

He thought, and some small glimpses seemed to come through. A one sided conversation that seemed to go for hours. "Kind of. I don't know if I was really awake."

"You promised he'd be able to join the team again. You sounded very sincere." Sharpness crept into his voice. "Were you?"

"Absolutely. Carson, I meant it." He sighed. "We have some stuff to get through, both of us, but I won't shut him out again."

"Good." He straightened the top cover. "Sleep for now. Dr. Weir will be here when you wake up again. You can tell her then."

Sheppard watched the broad back retreat through the screens, and turned his head to look again at McKay, startled when he saw the physicist was awake, watching him.

"Hey," he said gently.

"Hey yourself."

"Carson says you're gonna be fine." And now, surprisingly, he felt a bit awkward. They'd shared more than a couple of beers and a late night yak, after all. Some seriously personal demons had been wrestled.

"Up and around in no time," he continued. "That's good, you know, 'cause I think you put on a couple pounds while you were back in the lab…" he trailed off under the steady gaze.

"You weren't just saying it, last night…about going offworld again...were you?" McKay's voice was quiet, hesitant, as if he weren't quite certain he'd really heard right, or if it had been wishful thinking.

Suddenly, he wasn't embarrassed any more. Something inside, something that had been rattling around like a loose cog, finally fell into place again. This was Rodney McKay, genius, pain in the ass, best friend, quite literally soul brother, and they had nothing much left to hide from each other at all.

"No, Rodney, I wasn't." He rolled over, groaned a bit, but waved off the look that suddenly turned concerned. "Just stiff. I bet you'll be too."

McKay still looked unconvinced, so he made it a bit more formal.

"I would like you to rejoin my team. Would you?"

McKay smiled. "Of course." He paused. "I suppose Elizabeth's going to be mad..." he mused. "And what about Stu?"

"I'll find him another team, if he wants."

"And Elizabeth?"

Sheppard grinned back. "My team, my call," he said happily.

xxxxx

Excerpt from the letters of Dr. K. Heightmeyer

So much of what we do is related to fear, Tony. We try to teach people to overcome it, or if that's not possible - and often it isn't - we help them manage it. And that's what takes the time. That's where words are a blessing and a curse - we need them to communicate, but they're so imprecise.

This - thing - it cut through all that. In the space of about two hours they did the hard part for themselves, they managed instinctively what I'd thought would take months to accomplish.

I had one session with them each separately, and one with them together, and it's like...well, not like it never happened, they both still have nightmares and likely will for a long time, but they've put a major fear behind them. They know exactly where they stand with each other, and what they mean to each other. That is a rare thing, and I think they know it.

The team is back together, and things are as normal as they can be here. Remind me to tell you about what happened to the first expedition here, and how the time ship took Weir back ten thousand years...or maybe not, I still only half-believe it, and I was here.

I still don't know why I write these, I know they'd never pass the censor, and I know you'll never read them. I guess it's a holdover from our college days.

I miss you, darling. I'm sorry I'm not there. I know your sister will keep the wreath fresh. Know that I love you, and I know you're with me always.