"Rodney, come on, wake up."
McKay groaned and pushed at whatever was shaking him, trying to wake him up.
"Come on, you have to wake up. I need to talk to you."
McKay froze. He knew that voice. Didn't he? But what the hell was it doing here? Or… He carefully opened one eye and looked out from under the arms he'd thrown up over his face. Not liking what he saw, he hurriedly closed it again.
"Come on, Rodney, quit messing around, I really need to talk to you," the voice insisted.
McKay shook his head. He really didn't want to know what was going on. Besides, he already knew, didn't he? Had known almost from the first moment he set foot into that particular lab and his "dream" had come back to haunt him.
Reluctantly he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "Hi, Jeannie," he said weakly.
"Quite frankly, I'm starting to get concerned." It was the Scottish voice again, cutting through his drifting thoughts.
"Rodney?" It was a female voice this time, and his eyes flew wide open in shock. Looking down at him was a beautiful woman, about the same age as Mrs Adams, with a very concerned look on her face, which eased as she saw he was awake, then seemed to deepen again at his expression.
"Rodney, how are you feeling?" she asked. "You've got us all worried about you." Her voice sounded soft and kind.
Rodney looked from her face to that of the Scottish doctor. They did both look rather worried, which made a pleasant change, Rodney thought wryly. Nobody ever looked worried about him usually. Angry with him, maybe. The only person he could ever remember actually showing any concern to him was… "Jeannie?"
"Huh? Rodney, it's me, Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth." Rodney thought about that for a moment. No, he couldn't remember anyone called Elizabeth, apart from the girl with the braid who sat next to him in Art. And this certainly wasn't the same Elizabeth.
He struggled to sit up more and the doctor helped him, adjusting something at the back of the bed.
"How are you feeling now, Rodney?" he asked in more cheerful tones than those Rodney had heard him using just a few minutes earlier.
Rodney tried to speak, cleared his throat.
"My head hurts."
"We can soon fix that," the doctor nodded. "Anything else?"
"Where am I?"
"You're in the infirmary. I thought you would recognise it, you are somewhat of a regular visitor." Rodney saw the two strangers exchange smiling glances.
"I don't understand. What infirmary? Where? Is it St George's Hospital?"
The faces took on very serious looks. "Rodney?" said the woman. "We're on Atlantis, remember?"
Rodney supposed that at some deep level her words must make some sense to someone. "Greek myths? Sunken city?" he ventured.
"Rodney." The doctor leaned in more closely. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Rodney struggled through his memories. He remembered the maths class, the beating, the piano lesson – oh God, the piano lesson. He wished he'd been able to forget about that, or that it was all a horrible dream. "A dream," he said.
"What's that?" it was the doctor's turn to look confused.
"I had laid down on my bed. It's all a dream." Rodney settled back into his pillows, a faint smile on his face. "That's it, it's all just a dream. I'll wake up soon and I'll be at home in my bedroom and…" He stopped, wondering just how far back the dream went. The memory of that horrible piano lesson seemed so real – but then so did this part of it.
"Amnesia," the Scottish voice said. Then the American voice Rodney remembered from earlier spoke up again from behind the others.
"Actually, I think it may be a whole lot more complicated than that."
"Eh?" The doctor looked behind him.
"What do you mean, John?" asked the woman – Elizabeth, Rodney remembered.
The American – John – stepped forward into Rodney's view. "Hi, Rodney," he said cheerfully. "Do you know who I am?"
Rodney shook his head.
"My name's John Sheppard. What's yours?"
'Stupid question,' thought Rodney. "Rodney McKay."
"How old are you, Rodney?"
Rodney frowned. What game was he playing? "I'm twelve," he answered in irritated tones.
"What's the date today?" was the next question.
"June 9th 1982." Rodney was starting to get seriously annoyed at this line of questioning – until he noticed the reaction of the other two. Then he just felt very scared.
"John?" said Elizabeth. "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"
John looked down at Rodney, winked, then looked unsure of himself. "We won't be long," he promised. "I just need to talk to these good people for a while, then we'll be right back."