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Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis is not owned by me, nor do I make any material profit from this story.
Summary: There is no lesson quite so good as exercise in pain. A 'what if?' tag for McKay and Mrs Miller.
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By the time he arrives at the other end of the bridge in the other universe, he's gone without oxygen long enough to pass out. While the personal shield protects him from everything else, it still allows air to pass through it, and what little came with him disperses instantly in the void between universes. Suffocating is a terrifying experience, his intellect mercilessly reminding him that the instability of the bridge has probably made this return trip significantly longer than the initial crossover.
He slowly collapses onto the cold floor of the lab, his heart still beating sluggishly, but his body has forgotten how to breathe. Beckett shakes off his astonishment first and moves in quickly and efficiently, calling for a medical team and forcing his own air into McKay's lungs until he coughs wretchedly and starts to breathe on his own, sucking in desperate, heaving lungfuls. Barely conscious, he curls in on himself and trembles violently. Beckett, detecting the first signs of shock, hauls him off to the infirmary and keeps him there for a full twenty-four hours.
He slowly wakens to the sound of a familiar voice calling that hated name. "Mer? C'mon, open your eyes. Wake up, Meredith."
Sheppard sits beside his bed in the infirmary, grinning. There's something i different /i about the way he looks, although McKay can't quite pinpoint it at first.
"Colonel?" he croaks, his throat dry and sore.
"Caldwell says welcome back, and you can debrief whenever you're ready," Sheppard picks up a glass of water and offers it to him.
He accepts the glass, peering over the rim at Sheppard. He has to use both hands to steady the glass, and Sheppard takes it away from him after he's taken a sip, before he can spill it. He feels fuzzy – it's hard to make sense of what he's seeing and hearing. He reaches out and plucks at the hem of Sheppard's shirt.
"Blue," he says quietly.
Sheppard looks down at his shirt. "I always wear blue, Mer. We scientists have to stick together, you know." His face grows serious. "Look, Meredith, later I'm gonna want to talk to you about what you did. 'So long, Johnny' is a shitty way of saying goodbye. You know, we could have sent a written message through the bridge to the other universe – you didn't have to go behind my back on what could have been a suicide mission. I still can't figure out how they were able to send you back, unless they drained a ZPM. And I know things have been tough for you since we lost Elizabeth, but you have a lot of friends on Atlantis that would miss you if you weren't around anymore."
Rodney McKay stares at him, eyes open wider than they've ever been before, and mentally curses Meredith 'Rod' McKay for a liar and a cheat.
fin
A/N: Title and summary are taken from the CD 'The King's Singers A La Francaise, poems by Hiawyn Oram, music by Camille Saint-Saens Carnival of the Animals - specifically, the movement titled "Pianists". I thought that was particularly fitting for McKay.