This chapter is rated so high because it deals with the subject of child physical abuse. I know it can be upsetting to people, so you have been warned.

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Carson slipped into the infirmary to check on Rodney, silent so as not to awaken the sleeping Colonel. He was surprised therefore when he didn't see John next to Rodney's bed. Perhaps he had gotten something to eat? Carson wasn't sure. In the past, if Rodney was in the infirmary for any reason, then Aiden or Teyla brought John his food, because they knew that nothing short of a crowbar could get him away from the bedside.

He checked Rodney's vitals. No change really, except that he was a little weaker. Carson frowned, worriedly. He was scared for his friend, and he hating not being able to do anything to help him.

Sighing, he turned and was about to go back to his office, when a flash of black caught his eye. He turned, and gasped as he saw John sprawled out onto the floor beside Dr. Mendesa's bed. He ran forward and checked his pulse; it was there, but was slower than usual.

"I need some help in here, NOW!" Carson yelled to his staff in the other rooms. He tried to wake John up, but the man remained unconscious. It was almost as if he was in a co… a sneaking suspicion twisted Carson's gut, and he had a pretty good idea of what John had done and why.

The clatter of many feet announced the arrival of some of his medical staff, along with one of the Thesarian doctors.

"What happened?" Nurse Archer asked.

"I found him unconscious like this," Carson said as John was gently lifted and placed onto the bed next to Rodney.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked, rushing into the room out of breath. She was closely followed by Aiden and Teyla, both looking equally concerned.

"I found John unconscious," Carson told them as he began checking John's vitals.

"You found him next to Dr. Mendesa?" the Thesarian doctor asked. Carson nodded, and the Thesarian grimaces slightly. "This is not good," he said and clicked his com link.

"Fuda to Sonider, you should come down to the infirmary. We have a problem with Colonel Sheppard-McKay," he said.

"What's happening? Why is he unconscious?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with Dr. Mendesa," Carson said.

"I concur with Dr. Beckett," Fuda said. "From the position he was in when we found him, it seems to me that the Colonel had touched Dr. Mendesa then collapsed."

"But why would that happen?" Aiden asked.

"Your species cannot protect yourself from the telepathic energy that Mendesa's brain is broadcasting. If any of your people come too close, then it is very likely that you will be pulled into the coma with Dr. Mendesa and Dr. McKay-Sheppard."

The rest of the room was quiet as they watched Carson hook up their friend to a series of monitors and screens.

"I'm afraid he's in a coma," Carson told the, stepping away from the bed.

"But why?" Elizabeth asked, her voice shaking. "Why would he even go near Dr. Mendesa?"

"Unless he knew what would happen," Teyla mused and Carson nodded.

"Aye, I think I have to agree with you on that one Teyla. I think John knew what would happen if he touched Dr. Mendesa and did it on purpose. He wanted to help Rodney, and couldn't do it from here."

"But he might not even be pulled into Rodney's dream!" Aiden protested.

"That is a possibility," Fuda told them.

"So, unless John can help Rodney wake up, we lose both of them," Elizabeth stated. It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Carson put one arm around her to comfort her. He knew how she felt. The two men on the beds in front of them were as close as brothers to him.

Fuda turned to check on Dr. Mendesa's condition and frowned at what he saw.

"Dr. Mendesa's condition had become unstable," he told the room at large. "If the Colonel is going to help his husband, then he had better do something fast."

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John blinked and opened his eyes. The room around his spun and tilted and he had to grab hold of the wooden staircase next to him to stop himself from falling over.

Wait a minute…

Wooden staircase?

Since when did they have wooden staircases on Atlantis?

John shook his head to clear it, and looked around. He was in the hallway of what looked to be a fairly big house. The carpet beneath his feet was soft and thick, and the whole area had a sense of being well kept. A little too well kept for John's taste though. It didn't exactly give the impression of being the most welcoming of places. He peeked into the living room. It reminded him of his aunt's house, which she kept clean to the point of obsessive neatness. But that had been because her husband had been a domineering tyrant and he used to beat her if she…

A cold feeling settled in John's stomach. He'd been hearing noises in the background for a few minutes and now that he concentrated, he could distinguish them as voices.

A shrill "Stop it Malcolm, you'll kill him!" shook him from his daze and he ran to the door on the other side of the room. He opened it just in time to see a tall, muscled man throw a kid against the wall.

"Hey, stop that!" John yelled, but the man ignored him. John ran at him and leapt on him to try to stop him, but instead of hitting the man, John fell right through him. He landed hard on the ground, and looked up in disbelief. He couldn't believe it. It was as if the man was a ghost, or he himself was.

John looked over at the kid that the man was beating on. He looked to be no older than sixteen and bile rose in John's throat when he recognised the boy.

Rodney.

The boy… Rodney… he collapsed against the wall and slid down it, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. The world around him shifted and faded to black, and John was scared that Rodney was dead. Then, everything shifted again, and he found himself back in the hallway. Without hesitation, he went straight to the dining room.

It was a quiet domestic scene. Sixteen year old Rodney was sitting at the dining room table next to a pile of books. He was writing furiously on a notepad. A woman that John guessed was Rodney's mother was sitting next to a girl, talking to her. The girl, obviously Jeannie, looked no older than twelve.

"But Mom," Jeannie was saying, "What will Dad say?"

"Well Sweetheart," her mother began, "He can't really be mad at you. You were out sick for two weeks. He knows that."

"Of course he knows that," Rodney smirked, "He bitched about it often enough."

"Rodney," his mother admonished, but Rodney smiled at Jeannie.

"Come on, he wont be pissed at you. He's still too mad at me for being gay for this to even register on his radar," Rodney joked.

Jeannie smiled a little at Rodney, but froze when the front door opened and slammed shut.

"Malcolm," Rodney's mother fluttered, standing nervously.

"Trish," Malcolm nodded curtly. "Bring me something to eat. And bring me the mail while you are at it."

Trish nodded and Jeannie gulped. John could see the fear in her eyes, a fear totally at odds to the strong woman he knew. He tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she couldn't hear or see him. None of them could.

"What's this?" Malcolm snapped, holding up a letter.

"It's my school report," Jeannie said nervously. Rodney put down his pen, and glared at his father.

"I know that," Malcolm snapped, coming to stand next to her. "I was asking what this funny little number next to your subjects was."

"Th… Th… That's a B- Dad."

"And what's this one?" Malcolm asked, his voice taking on a menacing tone.

"It's a C," Jeannie said. Her eyes were huge with fear now, and John felt his heart squeeze.

"C?" Malcolm asked, dangerously quiet. Suddenly, he lashed out. "A C?" He hit Jeanie across the face, and she fell off her chair, crying out. Before anyone could react, he kicked her in the stomach.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Rodney yelled, jumping up from the table and running for his dad. Trish pulled Jeannie away from her father and over under the window. Jeannie was crying in pain, holding her head and Trish was trying to sooth her.

Across the room, father and son faced each other.

"So, you've finally grown a bit of a spine then," Malcolm sneered.

"Leave her alone," Rodney snarled at his father. "She was out sick for two weeks. Of course she's going to be a bit behind. But Jeannie is smart. She'll catch up," he ground out.

"That's just unacceptable," Malcolm told him. "You know the consequences of failure. I will not have idiots for children!"

"What? Afraid to see in us what we see I you?" Rodney asked. His father's lip twisted cruelly and he lashed out, punching Rodney in the side and slamming his elbow against Rodney's head. The boy staggered in place, but held his ground.

For some reason, this seemed to enrage Malcolm even more,

Rodney stared up at his father, waiting for the next blow to fall. It came, and was harder than he had expected. He stumbled against the wall, his ears ringing from the force of the strike.

Rodney could see his mother on the floor by the window, cradling his younger sister, and screaming on the top of her lungs

"Stop it Malcolm! You'll kill him!"

The only reply she got was a grunted "Good."

Rodney stood shakily again, facing the tyrant that was his father. Malcolm towered above his sixteen year old son, his face dark with rage.

"You dare stand up to me? To back-talk ME?" he roared. He balled up his fist, and punched Rodney in the ribs, causing the boy to double over in pain, and crumple to the ground weakly.

"You're worthless, you know that? For all you abilities, your 'intelligence', you still can't defend yourself. You're no son of mine!"

"I wish!" Rodney yelled, finding strength where he had none before. "I wish I wasn't your son!"

It turned out to be a mistake. Malcolm McKay seemed to grow five inches taller as he stared down at his horrified son.

Had he really just said that to his father? Rodney couldn't believe he had. He was going to be in serious trouble.

Malcolm was inarticulate with rage. The boy dare…, he dared to yell at him? Imply he wasn't good enough to be his father?

Rodney was still doubled over from the blow he was sure had cracked a few ribs. Malcolm grabbed his shoulders and slammed his knee into Rodney's gut. Rodney gasped in pain, and was certain that this time, his father had broken something. Malcolm hauled his son up, and slammed him against the wall.

Rodney's head snapped back, and crashed into the wall with tremendous force. Everything got fuzzy as his legs collapsed and he slid into a sitting position, unknowingly leaving a blood trail down the wall as he faded in and out of consciousness.

Tears ran down John's cheeks as he watched the scene unfold before him. He couldn't believe it. No wonder Rodney never spoke about his past. And if he was trapped here, living this over and over… John had to find him, and fast.

Everything went black again and John found himself once more in the hallway. What was he going to do? He couldn't talk to any of these people. They didn't hear him. He was going to have to find Rodney. His Rodney. Not the younger version that went through so much to defend his little sister.

He went into the dining room again, and tried to ignore the scene playing out in front of him. Instead, he looked in all the corners and spaces that he hadn't before. And there, huddled under a corner table, was Rodney.

His Rodney. He was sitting with one arm wrapped around his knees which were pressed to his chest, and the other arm protected his head. In the rest of the room, Malcolm was beginning to lay into Jeannie, and Rodney visibly flinched every time the sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out. John gulped. Oh God. His poor Rodney.

He knelt down beside him, and tentatively reached out a hand.

"Baby?" he said, his voice shaking. Rodney flinched away from his touch, but John persisted. He placed a soothing hand on his husbands shoulder. "Rodney. It's John. I'm here, Baby. It's me."

Rodney raised his head, and looked at John through dull, red-rimmed eyes.

"J… John?" he asked, hopefully. John's heart broke at how defeated Rodney sounded.

"Yes. It's me," he told him, sitting next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving you."

"You're a dream, but I don't care!" Rodney exclaimed, burying his face into the crook of John's neck. "It's wont stop. I don't know what's happening, I can't stop it!"

"Ssh, it's ok," John whispered into Rodney's hair. "I'm not a dream. I'm really here. And we can stop it together, ok?"

"Ok," Rodney whispered shakily. "You're really here?" he asked again, and John smiled here.

"Yes McKay, I am. Now, let's work on not being here, ok?" Around them, everything went black, but John held onto Rodney and Rodney pressed into John side and John was happy to see that he hadn't moved when everything came back into focus.

"Ok, what's happening?" Rodney asked, and John was delighted to see a spark return to Rodney's baby-blue's.

"Dr. Mendesa is in a coma and dying. Because you were close to him, and had a troubled childhood, you were pulled into the coma with him."

"And what are you doing here?"

"I… I couldn't stand not being able to help you, so I touched Dr. Mendesa. I was knocked unconscious when I did, and I was brought into the coma too."

"You did this on purpose?" Rodney asked.

"I did."

"Ok, I have more questions, but that can wait," Rodney said, and John had to smile.

"So, how do we get out of here?" Rodney asked, sitting up a little straighter. John winced slightly.

"I'm not sure yet," John said. He rubbed Rodney's back in soothing circles and his husband relaxed against him. He stiffened again when his father stepped into the room. He tried to shrink back into himself, but John held on tight. They both watched in mute horror as the scene played out in front of them. They were powerless to stop it, and both John and Rodney flinched noticeably whenever Malcolm struck one of his children.

John tried to avert his eyes when Malcolm started on YoungRodney, but he couldn't. His gaze followed every blow, every kick, every wince of pain. Every… Wait. Didn't Rodney fall the last time his father hit him like that? He watched, as Rodney withstood a few more blows before finally crumpling to his knees in pain. His father yanked him up and slammed his knee into his stomach and slammed him against the wall. Everything went black again, and John held on to Rodney, thinking furiously.

The scene started over again, and John just held Rodney as he watched him talk with his sister. When Malcolm came in, John carefully disengaged himself from Rodney's arms. Rodney looked at him, his eyes full of hurt and confusion.

"Ssh, just trust me, ok?" John asked. He sat close to Rodney, but wasn't touching him when the attack started. It played out as it had been doing when John had arrived; Rodney stood up to his father, but fell quickly. He didn't withstand as many blows as he had the last time.

The scene around them faded with YoungRodney's consciousness and John moved closer, wrapping his arms around Rodney.

"What was that all about?" Rodney asked.

"An experiment," John told him. "You off all people should understand that." A ghost of a smile crossed Rodney's lips the joke. "I was watching what happened when I was holding you," John said. "And you stood up to your father for longer when I was. The memory changed."

"How can the memory change?" Rodney asked. "It's a memory. It already happened. It can't change. It's fixed."

"Don't ask me how it worked, but it did. It changed. Maybe having me here with you is your way of dealing with it like the Thesarians keep saying you need to do wake up. I don't know. All I know is that when I was holding you, you stood there and didn't fall."

"And this helps us how?" Rodney asked.

"I don't know! Look, just hang on to me. We'll see how that changes things."

Rodney didn't need telling twice. He burrowed into John's side, wrapping his arms around his waist. John tried not to think of how the usually confident man was trembling in his arms. He just hoped he'd get his normal Rodney back once they woke up.

They held on to each other, and once again, the memory altered. Before their eyes, YoungRodney seemed to grow in determination, standing up more quickly and throwing in a few more insults.

"It's changing," Rodney whispered as they scene re-started. They watched as every time the scene shifted, YoungRodney grew stronger and more confident, until finally he was standing toe-to-toe with his father, staring him straight in the eye. John and Rodney both exclaimed in surprise when beside Rodney appeared a spiky haired teenager. His hair was black and his eyes were startling green. John instantly recognised a younger version of himself, and it only took a moment for Rodney to come to the same conclusion.

"What…?"

"How…?"

They had no clue what was going on, but watched as Malcolm raised his fist to swing at YoungRodney. YoungJohn instantly stepped in, blocking the swing and forcing Malcolm backwards. Time and again, YoungJohn defended YoungRodney, until with a bellow of rage, Malcolm ran towards them. YoungJohn stepped in front of YoungRodney and Malcolm vanished before he reached them. Silence reigned for a moment before the scene shifted once more.

This time, John and Rodney found themselves sitting in a large room, like waiting area. Couches ran along one wall and a desk was situated in the centre of the room. Several funky-looking computers sat on the desk top, the chair swung idly in an invisible breeze.

"Where is this?" John asked.

"I haven't a clue," Rodney told him, standing but keeping hold of John as much as he could. "It's no where I've ever been."

"This is from my memory," a voice said from behind them. They turned to see Dr. Mendesa standing in the doorway. "This is my office back on my homeworld. It is one of my favourite places. I come here to think and to relax as well as work."

"Why are we here?" John asked.

"To say goodbye," Mendesa told them. "You will both wake up shortly. However, I will not. It is my time to go, but I do not fear death. By beloved Arcid is waiting for me beyond this life. We had two hundred wonderful years together before she slipped away from me ten years ago. I'm going to her. I just wanted to apologise before I do. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"We understand, and don't hold you responsible," Rodney told him, and John was amazed at his tact. He'd have to have a word with Elizabeth about sending Rodney on a diplomatic mission or two… Well, he probably wouldn't, but it would be fun to tease Rodney about if for years to come.

Relief flooded Mendesa's features at Rodney's words.

"I thank you," he told them, bowing slightly, "goodbye, my friends. Please, say goodbye to the rest of my people for me," he asked before the entire room around them faded.

And with identical sudden intakes of air, John and Rodney opened their eyes.

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Ok, epilogue coming up. It will probably be sappy, I warn you. I just love a happy ending.