AN: Mild adult situations ahead. Keep in mind if you want the extended version, you'll have to visit my homepage (found in my profile). I think I'll go take a nap...

Chapter Four: Right and Wrong

"Dr. McKay, are you here?"

McKay put down the Ancient device he'd been studying and turned to his laptop. As for acknowledging her presence in the lab, he scarcely glanced at her and grunted a salutation. "Hello, Teyla."

Teyla stared at him for a few moments. "I have been thinking over the past few days. I believe the term to describe your return would be a 'Hail Mary', would it not?" she said while he obliviously ran his tests. "You were sorely missed in Atlantis, and among my people as well. We owe you a great debt."

"Really," he said spiritlessly. He didn't tear his eyes from the screen. "I'm not the one who went all 'St. Rodney' to rescue a group of children from the clutches of the Wraith. Self-sacrifice is popular among my alternate reality egos, not mine. "

"You would have done the same?"

"I don't know, that's the point," he said, lifting his head and rolling his eyes. "Alternate realities are all about choices, and the results of every decision ever made. It…it's complicated." And he went back to his task.

"You and Dr. Weir are not speaking."

That caused him to stop typing. "If you're referring to our complete avoidance of any visual contact, then yes, we're not. Despite what everyone thinks, we're not seeing each other."

"But you wish to be?"

McKay snapped his head toward her. "What I feel for anything, about anything, or anyone means absolutely nothing. I belong here as much as a Wraith belongs at a baby shower."

Teyla slowly closed her eyes in contemplation. "You will be leaving, then?"

"Well, it's not like I have a choice. Everyone in my reality probably thinks I'm dead, and you already know how well that turns out."

She observed calmly as he grabbed the artifact again and placed it under the residual scanner he'd linked to his computer. He seemed to murmur to himself for a moment, before leaning in closer to the screen to try and make out the finer details of the readings. "Huh, that's strange. These look like burn marks, but they're too evenly spaced apart to be coincidental—like it was damaged on purpose. Why would they deliberately break their own equipment and then leave it behind? That doesn't make any sense."

Being used to, if not expectant of McKay's tendency to ramble on out loud, Teyla simply shook her head to indicate that she could not help him. He went back to working in a thoughtful daze.

"Your sister does not understand why you will not visit her on the mainland," she said after a pregnant pause. "I believe she has someone she wants you to meet."

"I've…" He slowed, looking distracted. "I've been meaning to do that. H-How is she?"

Teyla smiled. "Healthy," she said. "She often worries about you."

Bafflement dawned on his face, and for the first time since they had begun talking, he abandoned his project altogether. "Really? S-She and I…we weren't all that close, actually…it's a family issue thing."

"Before Dr. McKay, our Dr. McKay died," she went on sadly. "She was very close to him. Her husband was taken by the Wraith while they fled from Earth."

"I know. Sheppard told me." McKay eyed the Ancient device behind him and leaned over the desk. "I never liked him, but I don't suppose he deserved to be taken by the Wraith."

"Will you visit her?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line before nodding. "Yeah. Just as soon as I…" he trailed off. "Soon as possible."

"Then I will make the arrangements with Colonel Sheppard," she said pleasantly. "Good luck, Dr. McKay."

"Thanks," he uttered, mostly to himself. He stood without moving for a while after she left, thinking. About Jeannie. About Elizabeth.

He knew he had to face the pricking fear in the back of his mind, and that meant facing her again. To be honest, he was anxious to go back. He had thought to their prior disconnection in the infirmary, and it just didn't feel right. He should apologize.

He sighed. Elizabeth.

Zelenka tapped the order of command into the console. The pattern of Ancient symbols revolved, sorted into separate columns, and realigned themselves into the exact same order they had been before. He tapped again, they rotated, and he received the same results. This was no computer error. Was it mere coincidence?

"Seeing ghosts, doc?" Sheppard's voice reached him from the top of the Gate room stairs. "You look like someone just shot your dog."

"I do not have one," the Czech scientist said quickly. "Colonel, this you really must see."

John strode over to the panel Radek was currently staring at. After a few moments of nothing, he side-glanced at him. "It's a nice address. Where does it go?"

Zelenka looked at him gravely. "Nowhere."

"I'll assume there's some deeper, more…astronomical explanation than that."

The scientist let out a weary sigh, gesturing with his hands toward the screen. "I have managed to find the exact address of the location Dr. McKay was traveling from."

"And this is it?"

"Yes. The Stargate cannot reach this place. It doesn't exist."

Sheppard turned around to give the Gate a sharp glance-down. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, yes, I have run many tests, and they are all the same." The scientist entered something else into the laptop he had glued to prior their conversation. "But that is not what I needed to tell you. In terms of position, any Stargate that may theoretically be at this address, would have planetary value of M7H-885."

"M7H-885?" The name struck home in John's memory. "The name of the planet where McKay was killed by the Wraith was—"

"M7H-855," Zelenka finished for him. "They are almost identical."

A reflective tilt to his brow exposed Sheppard's thoughts. "Any chance it's just a coincidence?"

"You tell me."

"So probably not." For a moment, John rolled this over in his head. "Good job, doc, you just may have solved the first part of our alternate reality issue."

"Thank you, Colonel, but I have more to tell you," Zelenka said with the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth. "We attempted to dial M7H-855. It…is gone."

He found Elizabeth in her quarters, about three hours after he left the lab to unwind. At first, he'd intended to walk around the long complex of corridors until he could focus his thoughts, but as soon as he stopped wandering, he found himself outside her door.

The strangest feeling overcame him. He had never been to Elizabeth's quarters more than once, and somehow he'd managed to find it without even thinking clearly. It was almost as though he had come here a hundred times before, and he couldn't remember a single detail about it.

Gathering his nerves, Rodney readied himself to knock on the door. An instant before his knuckles connected, it slid open. Elizabeth stood there, he eyes side with surprise.

"Rodney," she choked, placing a hand on her collarbone. "Oh, God, you scared me."

"We need to talk," he said with a halt to his voice. "I-I know it's late and everything, and it's been a few days since we've seen each other, but I…have to get something off my chest."

She stared at him blankly, trying to understand the meaning of his words without betraying her own skepticism. Slowly, she nodded her head, eyes trained solely on his face. "O…okay, come in."

Rodney hurried inside after she moved to allow him entry. As soon as the door closed, he turned on her, jaw clenched tightly and his eyes closed in concentration. They snapped open a second later.

"Hit me."

Her mouth dropped. It took a great deal of effort to force it closed. "Excuse me?"

"Just do it," he sighed. "Punch me. I deserve it. Actually, I deserve a lot worse than that, but since I'm technically not that brave…look, just and don't try to tell me you don't want—"

His words were literally knocked out of his mouth when something hard struck his nose. By the time he realized she had, in fact, slapped him across the face, the immediate stinging sensation had already reached his brain.

"Ow!" he cried, cupping his hand over his nose and backing away. "I didn't think you'd hit so hard!"

"Oh my God, Rodney, I am so sorry!" Elizabeth rushed after him and reached out to carefully pry at his fingers. "I don't know why I did that. It's been a rough day, and I was just…never mind, here, let me see it."

"I think you broke my nose," he complained, reluctantly lowering his hand. She grinned when she saw the evident lack of blood, indicating that the blow hadn't been so serious.

"You'll be okay," she told him, withdrawing. " Unless you want me to get Carson's second opinion."

"You wouldn't," he grumbled. "That's foul play."

"Hey, you should consider yourself lucky I used my hand and not my knee," she retorted knowingly. "There are other places I could gone for."

"Yes, thank you for that." He probed gently at his nose. "Did it make you feel any better, at least?"

Elizabeth looked shocked. "Is that why you asked me to hit you?"

"No, I thought my nose looked a little crooked, so I thought I'd ask you to fix it for me." Rodney grimaced, but refused to sound bitter. It was his nature to be sarcastic. She'd understand.

"I see. Is there…any other reason you wanted to see me this late?" she ventured, startling him.

"Huh? Oh, ah…no. I mean, yes, but…ah," his voice stammered. "It is late, isn't it? Sorry. I have this bad habit of losing track of time when I'm…" He trailed off.

The mood turned sullen and foreboding over the course of a few seconds. Whatever lightness in the air there might have been, it was now replaced by a shroud of expectancy. The topic they both wanted to discuss was right there, out of arm's reach. They too, were unable to reach each other.

"What happened at the infirmary…" she began, folding her arms tightly and averting her eyes. "Or better yet, what happened in the brig, it…"

"Was influenced," he supplied for her. "I mean, it's quite obvious that you thought I was…someone else, and I thought…"

"You thought I was her," she said. "The Elizabeth from your reality."

"Well…yes," he admitted. "It's a case of mistaken identity, only with the right identities and the wrong…people. That sounds strange, doesn't it?"

It didn't matter to him. Their exchange in the brig was nothing more than a mistake to her, maybe, but he didn't care if she was Elizabeth or Elizabeth. He knew the Elizabeth standing in front of him had feelings for Rodney McKay—very honest and soul-bearing affection, the kind he'd given up on years ago.

"Can I ask something?" he said, when she made no attempt to continue the discussion.

"You just did," she pointed out, smiling grimly. "But go ahead."

"What…what was I like?" Rodney flinched at his own bluntness. "I mean…Rodney. The other Rodney. Were we different? And I mean Jekyll and Hyde different, not white-over-blue socks…different." He finished on an uncertain note, watching her expression as it turned to quiet contemplation.

Some time passed before she replied.

"He was exactly like you," she said quietly. "And yet…" She paused to elect the right words. "I still can't look at you without expecting you to love me. I try, but I can't."

Who could tell him that he didn't feel exactly that? The only thing keeping him from simply stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her was the gnawing doubt—that he could be anything like his alternate self. The Rodney she knew was Mr. Sensitivity as far as everyone else was concerned, and his sensitive side wasn't exactly the most prominent part of the McKay resumé.

Basically, staying with her caused her pain, and staying away made her uncomfortable. He was helpless. He had vast, extraordinarily powerful scientific knowledge, but very little data in deep, passionate emotions.

"So," he started casually. "How did we…I mean, the two of you…end up together?"

It seemed forever before she would answer. Then, slowly, her weight shifted and she turned to face him. Her eyes avoided his face, directing their attention to the bookcase behind him instead. "We…we were stranded."

The tension between them eased by a few kilotons. Rodney kept his mouth in check, knowing full well that she would leak as much information as she wanted to. He absolutely did not want to force anything out of her.

"We were both separated from the team on the Genii homeworld. The others managed to make it back to the Stargate, but…the Genii had surrounded us. They ran us down for what seemed like weeks, until…" She paused, looking disturbed by the memory. "Rodney, I thought I'd lost him. The bridge collapsed, it was a miracle he survived the current…" She held her breath for a moment. "When I found him, or we found each other…I'd convinced myself he'd drowned, and he thought Cowen had taken me prisoner, so we just…I don't know, it was so bizarre, realizing how much you care for someone so suddenly."

He was beginning to wish he hadn't asked. Naturally, she didn't have to mention what had happened following their meeting. The slight tinge in her cheeks told him enough about that. And this caused the weight in his chest to grow even heavier. Would he and Elizabeth…his Elizabeth, have done the same? Did it matter? It wasn't like he'd ever have the opportunity.

She obviously took his silence for discomfort, because the longing expression on her face abruptly faded. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have—"

"No, no, no, you should," he said quickly. "You should. I just can't believe I would…I mean, we would…not that it's bad, or anything, but the fact that anyone would want…you know, I should just…stop talking."

To his surprise, she broke out into an embarrassed smile. And then she did look at him, probably on impulse, but it sent his heart racing. "You have the right to know, Rodney. And believe it or not, I know more about you than you think. Enough to know that you blame yourself for what happened."

"What?" he said, in futile defense. "That's not…" She was gazing at him expectantly. "Okay, fine, maybe. So what?"

"So what?" she repeated, crossing her arms defiantly. "Rodney, it had nothing to do with you. Even if it did, he made the choice he thought was right. Is that not what you would've done, in his place?"

"To protect you, yes!"

The words froze on his lips as his face fell in shock. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Did I just say that out loud?"

"You did." Her tone was guarded. Carefully, she lowered her arms to her sides and moved closer, her gaze fixed solidly on his eyes, like a moth to a flame. "What I'm more interested in knowing is whether you meant it or not."

His jaw opened and shut without a sound. Was his face turning red? "I think I did," he said, swallowing. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I'm not entitled to know how you feel about me?" she asked incredulously.

They were inches apart. At this point, whether or not she was entitled to that knowledge was starting to seem rather irrelevant. And here he was back to the same question he had the knack for asking—did it really matter? Their proximity had his body reacting in ways he had been sure—until a week ago—only short-haired blonde women had the power to create. There was only one other explanation to what was happening, and that was the inevitable fact that he wanted this.

"I think," he said, swallowing again, nervously this time. "I think you're entitled to pretty much…anything you want."

"Good," she said softly, reaching behind his neck and pressing her warm lips over his.

This time, there was no cause for delay. Deepening the kiss, he curled his arm around to her back, sheathing his fingers in the base of her hair. Whilst their mouths battled gently, he used his free hand to caress her shoulder, slowly massaging its way down her arm, touching flushed skin and pinning it to her side. There, his hand disembarked to rove its way around her waist, stroking the small of her back. He pulled her against him.

And then it all stopped.

"Rodney…" she said breathlessly. His ministrations did not stop. "Rodney."

And then he did pull pack, releasing her in surprise. He looked like a child that had just been slapped. It pained her, but she had no choice.

"We can't…" She looked down, her throat suddenly dry.

It was obvious he wanted to say something, but not for the first time since they had met, he was at a loss for diction or even a flat-out 'Why?'

Elizabeth blinked, hating the burning sensation in her eyes. "I can't just…pick up where we left off." She had to explain, but how? She couldn't even explain it to herself. "I…I saw what the Wraith did to him…I saw him, Rodney. I saw you. As much as I want this, I can't let myself forget that you're not him. You haven't done the things we did together, and I'm not just talking about sex." Her voice became softer as the memories came flooding back. "Sometimes we would just talk. I know it sounds crazy, but he…he would hide around corners, and appear right at the moments I needed him most. We played games, had dinner; stole things from our rooms just for an excuse to see each other, even after we stopped needing one."

Her face was wet with tears by the time she finished talking. Even though she was not yet crying, the sight of the thin streams washing over her cheeks pulled the strings in his chest. He opted for something apologetic, or comforting to say, but he didn't know how. He could only wipe the dumbfounded look off his face and stare, his throat tightening visibly.

"You have no idea how hard it is to stand here and be reminded of these things," she said quietly. "We shared so much, and for such a long time, but I feel like I barely know you. Please understand, Rodney, it has nothing to do with you personally. I just can't…replace him."

She was going to lose control. No one understood what this was like, what they had before Rodney died. It didn't matter if she tried to explain it—it simply wouldn't be the same.

"I miss him so much."

A sob escaped from her throat, and that broke the last barrier. At that moment, she might have collapsed into a heap, if it were not for his arms that suddenly enveloped her. He held her tightly, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder while he made comforting sounds, one hand gently stroking her back. She was understandably broken, and the pieces that remained were still fragile. Now he knew.

Tonight, she was Elizabeth. She was shattered, and overwhelmed. She didn't need sympathy for her loss—she needed her grief to be understood. He would do that for her. He would even give up any chance he had to be with her.

And just like that, he knew. He loved her.