WHAT SAY WE?

PART 3: SO SAYS YOU

"McKay?" Sheppard called as he completed his long trek to the pier. There were no transporters close enough to shorten the distance, and it had taken him longer than expected to reach his destination. Why the hell had McKay gone all the way out here? John held the Life Sign Detector in front of himself, tracking the only other visible dot. He'd turned off the radio because there'd been no answer – only the annoying prattle of too many people trying to get too much done in too little time, and he was sick of hearing them.

"McKay!" he tried again. Nothing.

The search continued as he stepped through the doorway and onto the exposed pier. A chilled breeze lifted his hair and he stared out over the ocean, recalling the last time he'd spent time outside, seeing the 'almost beautiful' bombardment. The image had filled his dreams – like a Technicolor vision – he'd never forget it. Now, instead of an otherwise invisible shield blossoming in color, he saw only the gray sky and felt the raw wind.

He checked the sensor again, wondering if he had made a mistake. There appeared to be no one out here. Still, the detector showed the presence of another. He gripped his P90 with one hand – ready – as he made his way down the stairway. Who would be out in this unpleasant weather?

Then, as he came around, he caught sight of the form crumpled at the base of the railing -- a man as familiar as a brother. "Son of a bitch," he muttered as he sprinted the last steps to the fallen scientist.

No, he demanded. Not now… no… Not after all we've been through! Not after everything that's happened! The life sign detector, still clutched in his hand, displayed two dots. Not dead… not dead… Sheppard reassured himself.

"Rodney?" he called, falling to his knees beside the Canadian. McKay was curled on his side, his back to the sea, his face pale and still. A damp mist covered him. "Rodney?" Sheppard called again. Had a Wraith gotten to him? No… McKay didn't show any signs of a 'feeding'. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't appear to be hurt.

With a twitch and a snort, McKay drew in a breath, blowing it out noisily. John grinned at the snore. Asleep, he determined. Never before had he been so pleased to find someone 'sawing logs'. But, asleep here? What was he thinking? John hissed in commiseration as he pressed a hand against one side of McKay's face and finding him as cold as ice.

John set the P90 to one side, shucked off his jacket and tucked it around the man. "Come on, McKay," he uttered as he gently slapped the physicist's face. McKay responded with a groan.

Determinedly, Sheppard leveraged McKay upright, keeping the jacket around his shoulders. "McKay! Wake up!" His voice let it be known that he'd brook no argument on the matter. "McKay! Get your goddamn eyes open!"

Eyelids fluttered – their lashes festooned with droplets of water -- and weary blue eyes looked beyond him. "Mmmph," McKay garbled out, his head bowing forward, his eyes closing again.

"Damn it, McKay, no screwing around! Wake up!" and Sheppard gave him a fierce shake.

"M'up," McKay mumbled. "Up… I'm up." And he blinked wearily, turning to face the Major. His sleepy expression gave way to one of confusion as he took in the situation. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He coughed to clear his throat, conscientiously turning away. "What are we doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Sheppard responded, sitting on his heels. He studied the man, wondering if anything was wrong with him outside of pure exhaustion.

McKay stretched awkwardly, as if his back hurt, then maneuvered the jacket about, pulling his arms into the sleeves and tugging the garment close to him. "It's cold," he grumbled, frowning at his position, sitting on the floor. "What happened? I'm freezing. Not feeling so well…" And then, perhaps seeing something in Sheppard's expression, he went on, "The Wraith are back! Oh God, they figured it out. I've got to get back to the…"

"The Wraith aren't back! The plan worked." Sheppard assured him.

"Oh, thank God," McKay muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He seemed to relax a moment, but that didn't last. He felt his watch before he looked at it, and an expression of horror crossed him as he noted the time. "AM or PM?" he asked anxiously.

"AM," Sheppard informed.

"Oh God. I have to get back. I have to get back, now!" He pressed down on Sheppard's shoulder, making an attempt to leverage himself upward, but between the cold and his fatigue, it was a struggle.

"Nothing's happening!" Sheppard snapped, knocking McKay's hand from his shoulder and robbing him of any altitude he'd been able to gain. "Just relax a minute, okay?"

Perturbed, McKay went on, "You're joking. There's so much that I have to get done. I need to send out teams to assess the extent of the damage, determine which systems need to be fixed first, determine the proper protocols for re-establishing each, then assign the correct groups to repair the specific damage. They'll each need to report their findings and be briefed on the inter-workings of each system, and I'm the only one who knows how they all worked together, now that Peter's gone..." His hands, which had been moving about to illustrate his lecture, came to a stop as he was met with John's stare. "I have to get moving."

But, instead of trying to get to his feet again, McKay huddled in the jacket, pressing his back against the railing. "If you just give me a minute…" he murmured.

"We got everyone back," Sheppard assured. "They're taking care of these things, hopping around like jackrabbits. Kavanagh's trying to run the show…"

McKay snorted in derision.

"… but Zelenka and the others will keep him in line. They've been doing everything you mentioned."

"Radek?" McKay waved away anything else Sheppard had to say. "What happened to him?" He looked genuinely concerned. "I was trying to reach him on the radio just before…" He touched his ear as if to finger his radio's earpiece and frowned to find it dangling at his chest.

"Ford," Sheppard completed. "Ford hit him. Knocked him out."

Rodney's jaw dropped at this news, and quivered. It may have just been a shiver from the cold though. "Ford knocked out Radek?" McKay asked in disbelief. "Why the hell would he do that? Radek wouldn't hurt him! What did Ford think he'd do? Shoot him or something? My God, did he think one of us would shoot him?"

Sheppard remained quiet a moment, remembering that he'd used the Wraith stunner on the man, and he wondered how far he would go if the situation warranted it. "I don't know exactly what happened," John explained. "Zelenka's fine. That guy said it was just a glancing blow. No serious damage."

"Guy?" McKay asked curiously. "What guy?"

Aw damn, Sheppard thought, angry with himself for even bringing it up. "You know… that guy that works with Beckett."

"Guy? Plenty of 'guys' work in the infirmary. A doctor maybe?"

"Yes! A doctor!"

"You're not going to make me play 20 questions are you?"

Sheppard smiled calculatingly at that comment. "Why, maybe I am. I'll give you a hint…" he started. "He's tall and black and…"

"Oh!" McKay exclaimed. "THAT guy."

"So you know him."

"Of course I know him."

"I'm thinking you don't. Just prove it."

Rodney looked smug. "He was sitting at the same table the last time we had dinner in the mess."

John tried to remember how long it had been since they'd had time to sit down and eat a full meal in the mess hall. Yeah, that was right – the doctor had been at the table. They'd exchanged a word or two before he finished and went about his business. Damn. "So, say his name and I'll tell you if you're thinking of the right guy."

For a moment, Rodney regarded the Major. Then he smiled smugly. "No," he answered. "You're not getting it out of me!"

"Damn it, McKay!" Sheppard growled. "You don't know anyone's name. You called Radek just about anything that starts with a Z. I heard 'Zemeckis' once, think you called him 'Zamboni' a couple times. And I swear I heard you calling Pfeffer 'Dr. Pepper'."

"Did not!"

"Oh! You know you did!"

"Well, it was an obvious mistake. Anyone might have made the… slip. Besides, I was doing it in jest. Yes, that's it."

"You don't know the guy's name."

"I do," Rodney responded, crossing his arms over his chest, looking as haughty as all hell. "And I'm not going to be the one to give up the goods." He sniffled again and tightened his arms. He frowned as he noticed the sleeves. "This isn't my jacket!" he declared.

"I know," Sheppard returned. "Don't get snot over it or anything."

McKay scowled at him. The effect was ruined by a sneeze. "Great, just great. I'm catching a cold. Just what I need. You know, I catch a cold this quick!" and he snapped his fingers.

"You spent the night outside on the pier, McKay," Sheppard chastised. "What were you thinking?"

McKay looked away, as if truly taking in his location for the first time. When he met Sheppard's eyes, John didn't miss the look of fear that filled them. "I don't know how I got here," McKay whispered. "I remember walking somewhere last night. I was trying to get… somewhere but…" He lifted a hand in a pointless gesture. " I must be losing my mind." And he drew up his legs to rest his head on his knees.

"Naw," Sheppard was quick to counter. He clapped a hand against McKay's shoulder. "Just so damn tired you couldn't think straight. What say we get off the pier and find someplace warmer?" Without waiting for a response, he gripped McKay's arm, picked up his weapon, and stood. "Come on," he urged.

Taking more effort than it should, McKay stumbled to his feet, using both Sheppard and the railing for support. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" the genius proclaimed as he straightened. "Stiff… ow… my back…ooo… foot's asleep... oof!"

"Come on. You'll feel better once you get moving around."

"So says you!"

"We'll get inside. You'll get yourself cleaned up a bit," Sheppard provided. "Then we'll get something hot to eat."

"Yeah, yeah," McKay muttered.

"Let's go," Sheppard commanded and made his way to the door. In his shirtsleeves, he was already getting cold. It would have been damn uncomfortable to spend the night out here. Hopefully no serious damage was done. How tired was McKay to sleep out here? How could someone do that?

Wrapping his arms around himself, McKay followed where Sheppard led. "Not everyone," the physicist muttered.

"What?" Sheppard asked. Maybe the cold HAD done something to McKay's brain.

"You said that everyone had returned. Not everyone."

With a sigh, Sheppard agreed. "Not everyone."

The doors shut behind them and they were back in the comfort of Atlantis. The warmth surprised Sheppard, making him wonder if the whole city was being kept at pleasant temperatures. He hadn't noticed if the hallways had been heated on his way out. Atlantis probably just 'knew' when someone was in the area – and now that there was a ZPM to power the city, little enhancements like this were being discovered. He'd have to ask McKay about it, but he doubted that the Canadian was feeling the heat much at the moment. Rodney still shivered as he clutched the jacket close, sniffling miserably as they walked.

"Is Carson okay?" McKay asked.

"He's fine."

"Bates?"

"They sent him home. Everett, too."

"Too bad," McKay said, genuinely. "I really didn't get a chance to know Everett, but I'm going to miss Sgt. Bates. He had this great way of getting to the point. And Peter. I'll certainly miss Peter," McKay said softly. "Doesn't seem right for him to be gone."

"Doesn't seem right," Sheppard echoed.

"I should have figured out how to save him. I shouldn't have let that happen." McKay tightened his arms, jamming his fists against his sides.

"It couldn't be helped."

"Well, that's not true," Rodney snapped. "If I'd been able to connect the system correctly, he would be here right now. If I'd managed to get the weapons platform put back together correctly, Peter wouldn't have died." He made an irritated motion to end that discussion, "And all those Marines and Athosians who died defending the city. I saw them – bodies."

"They've been taken care of."

"Wentworth and Novell and Haas? I saw them in the hallways. And what was the name of that Marine with the square head and the uni-brow?" He ran a thumb across his forehead.

"Matheson," Sheppard supplied. "Hank Matheson."

"He was a decent guy," McKay said with a nod. "Never seemed to mind carrying my gear when we went off-world." He glanced to Sheppard. "Probably hated that though, didn't he? Yeah, bet he had plenty to say about me later. I can never judge people correctly."

"He liked you," Sheppard assured. "Told me that you reminded me of his geeky older brother."

McKay scowled at that term. "I'm not a geek," he declared.

"Didn't say you were. Just that Matheson said you kinda reminded him of his 'brainy' brother, and he didn't mind doing stuff for you."

"I hate that term. What? Do people think I bite the heads of chickens? Really, it's more of a moniker for computer technicians. You know, the ones that spend their lives in little dark basement cubicles. Greasy hair." He waved a hand over his somewhat disheveled, unwashed, but relatively grease-free hair. "Pocket protectors… do I wear a pocket protector?" and he gestured to the jacket, frowning when he remembered it wasn't his own. "I'd like to think I was something more than just… you know… one of those."

"I didn't mean to say that you were one."

"Geek sounds too much like freak and I really don't…."

"McKay!"

"I liked him, though – Sgt. Matheson. And now he's..." There was a pause, before McKay started again. " Maybe I could… send a note to his brother or something."

"That'd be nice."

"So many people died." McKay glanced up at his companion as they moved through the hallway. "You died, too."

Sheppard chuckled dryly. "Hate to spoil things for you, but I'm still here."

"For about 20 seconds, you were dead," McKay responded bitterly. "First it was 'So long, Rodney,' and then you ran off before I could say anything."

"You would've stopped me."

"You're damn right! And then the Hive Ship exploded and for about 20 seconds you were dead." Angrily McKay shoved his hands into the jacket pockets. "Rather inconsiderate of you."

"Sorry," Sheppard bit back. "But I was trying to save Atlantis." Glaring at Rodney, he added, "And I had the same 20 seconds, you know that? I didn't know if you'd gotten the damn shield up in time. For 20 seconds I got smacked upside the head with the crappiest ironic twist imaginable. Here I was, prepared to give up my life to save everyone – yet I was left thinking I was the only one that made it out alive. My act of 'heroism' was turned into just an escape from doom. Goddamn it, for those 20 seconds, all I could think was that I should've been there with the rest of you."

"Yes, you should have been," McKay responded.

"So we'd all get blown up?"

"No," McKay replied, yanking his hands from his pockets to gesture. "Because I would've been able to get the chair functioning and everything would have worked out. All I needed was a little time and I would have managed it."

Sheppard lowered his voice, "We just didn't know how much time there was. If I'd known that the Daedalus was on our doorstep…"

"Yes, but you should have listened to me. You should always listen to me."

"Yeah, I know," Sheppard responded.

"'So long, Rodney,' what kind of goodbye is that?"

"It was all I could think of."

"Where was the… 'It's been great working with you, Dr. McKay. I've become a better person just to know you. I feel that our working together has been enjoyable, and our collaboration has been beneficial to the entire city and…"

"What say we drop this for now," Sheppard replied tiredly.

"I just didn't care for your farewell."

"I didn't care much for it either."

And they walked in silence for a time. Rodney sniffling and shivering, glancing off the walls from time-to-time. Shepard regarded his friend, seeing the weariness that was still etched around his eyes, noting the slow tread. Yeah, Rodney hadn't quite recovered from the long long days that preceded this – and the pier was no place to make a bed.

McKay had given everything he could to save the city.

"Greene," Sheppard tried quietly.

"What?" McKay responded, pivoting his head, looking for the declared color.

"That guy… he's Dr. Greene, isn't he?"

McKay barked out a laugh, "Stephen?" He shook his head as he tittered away. "You think Stephen's the black guy? You do know who Stephen Greene is, don't you?"

Sheppard mentally kicked himself, remembering the doctor – who was far from being a black man.

"Oh, that's a good one," McKay went on.

Sheppard sneered at him and the pair kept walking.

McKay's soft laugh tapered off, and a somber expression replaced the cheerful one. "I have so much work to do," he stated. He walked with a wobble, running into the wall and allowing himself to be deflected by it.

"Not today. Today we hang loose."

"Can't. I couldn't possibly leave the city in this shape. I have to get back to the Gateroom."

"You have good people, McKay -- well-rested, good people. They got things moving already. They'll take care of things."

McKay tucked his chin to his chest and muttered, "They're the best there is."

"See! And, hell, they won't let that moron, Kavanagh, get too far."

McKay made a face, half a grin, before he suppressed it and stated, "He's not a moron, you know. He has a brilliant mind. It's just that there's… something missing."

"Humanity," Sheppard filled in. "Compassion."

"Those qualities don't exist in our field."

"Yeah, they do," Sheppard responded, putting out an arm to help steady the scientist who was treading his way along one wall, scraping one shoulder against it, determined to return to the Gateroom and get back to work. "Even Kavanagh can show it on occasion."

They said nothing for a while, McKay toddling along, and Sheppard at his side, doing his best to keep the scientist from colliding with anything. Their pace slowed, and McKay sighed tiredly. The physicist looked around, as if considering a place to sit down.

"I think the Daedalus brought coffee," John commented.

"Coffee?" The note of delight was impossible to miss.

"And bacon. I know they have bacon. I got me a heap of it for breakfast. I was looking forward to a BLT for lunch."

"Did they bring tomatoes?" McKay asked, suspicious.

"Naw, but there's those red vegetable things we got from P55-688."

"Tomatoes are technically fruit," McKay informed, but thoughtfully, he added, "They should do just fine. And I suppose we can use that leafy stuff from P2L-477. It'd work for lettuce. We may have some Mayo left in those little packets. And maybe there's still some bread from the Capilanos." He nodded. "Oh! Oh! And a big cup of coffee," McKay sighed, looking as if he was already dreaming.

"I think they even have a couple racks of Diet Coke stowed away on that ship. Someone told me that their Asgard is hooked on the stuff."

McKay snorted. "Improbable," he muttered, still he looked intrigued. His pace quickened. God, it had been ages since he'd been able to indulge in his Diet-Coke-habit.

"What say we get back to our rooms, clean up – you give me back my coat. We get some massive BLTs, steal some of the Diet Coke, and get you a vat of coffee. We'll let your guys take care of things for the afternoon. They'll manage it. You can jump back in tomorrow. We just spend the rest of the day sitting back, relaxing a little. I think we've earned it. What say we get started."

With a grin, McKay echoed, "Yes, what say we…" And they continued to make their way into their city.

THE END