Disclaimer: MGM owns Stargate Atlantis; I do not.

Rating: T (for language, violence, and sexual situations)

Time Frame: After "Missing" (Season 4 Episode 7)

Canonicity: AU diverging after The Return (Season 3 Episodes 10 and 11)

Major Spoilers: 3x10, 11 The Return; 4x07 Missing

Minor Spoilers: 2x01 The Siege Part 3

Stargate: Atlantis

AFTERMATH

by koinekid

Part 1

Facing death is easier when your mind is occupied. You're on a hive ship venting atmosphere? Hack into the control systems and seal off the leak. Replicators are invading your city? Figure out a way to shield your vital systems and trigger an EMP. Primitive villagers are firing at you in the dark? Duck and cover. Return fire to scare them off. And then...

Then you wait.

Because while computer hacking and electromagnetic pulse triggering take time and require brain power, huddling behind a mud bank in the dead of night during a rainstorm with an irate colonel and an injured corporal your only company leaves you with plenty of time to reflect on your impending demise.

And on how you really, really don't want to die because for the first time in your life you have someone else to live for and – fool that you are – you promised to be there when she returned.

Rodney growled his frustration as bullets thudded into the mud bank he and Sheppard crouched behind.

"Shut up," Sheppard hissed. "You'll give away our position."

"They're shooting at our position."

"Which is why we're not shooting back and why Ronon is a hundred yards down the line drawing their fire." As if to reinforce Sheppard's words, two quick pulses from Ronon's energy weapon lit up like beacons in the dark. Gunfire answered, all of it directed down the line.

Sheppard continued. "They're firing blind, trying to spook us into revealing ourselves." He lifted Corporal Watkins' shirt to check the hastily applied bandage and cursed. Teyla had discovered her pregnancy only days before, and Colonel Carter recommended Watkins as her temporary replacement. Sheppard's agreement was not without reluctance. The boy looked so much like Aiden Ford it was scary. Now it looked as if they might lose Watkins too.

"Rodney, you're always hanging out with Keller. Haven't you picked up anything useful?"

Jennifer Keller was the person Rodney least wanted to think about at the moment. He could almost picture Atlantis' head of medicine safe at home in the bed she slept in as a little girl. Her brief leave in Chippewa Falls would end in another day. If it hadn't already. For all he knew, Jennifer's dad might be driving her back to the airport even then, or she was already in the air, wide-eyed and jumping at every bump and eddy. Her confession the night before she left that she was a nervous flier inspired Rodney to make a promise: that he'd be in the control room waiting when she stepped through the gate. It was a simple gesture, but he'd be damned if he disappointed her.

"We don't talk about medicine when we're together, Sheppard."

The colonel raised a brow.

Rodney blushed. "No, I haven't picked up anything useful."

Gunfire continued intermittently over the next few hours, and Rodney's thoughts drifted. To the research paper he was revising. To the video of his niece's ballet recital unviewed on his laptop. To the past, but never to the future.

Sometimes Rodney wondered what life would be like if Katie Brown had returned to Atlantis. Might he have sent away for a ring by now, or she a wristwatch? Radek still wore the watch his ex-wife presented when she asked for his hand. Katie's wistful look the day Radek told the story over lunch had Rodney working late nights for weeks and dreading scheduled mail drops. Looking back, he realized Katie must have noticed.

Quantum theorists speculate that any event that can happen does in one of the night infinite number of sub-universes or parallel realities that collectively make up existence. In some, perhaps many of those realities, he and Katie had remained in contact when the Atlantis expedition abruptly ended and all personnel transferred back to Earth.

When the expedition resumed just as abruptly six weeks later, had she – unlike his Katie – resigned her post at the US National Arboretum to return with him? Had they married? Failing that, did they share quarters? It was not impossible or even unlikely. Four married couples already lived on base, and Rodney knew at least two of his scientists were cohabiting.

He could not begrudge his doppelgängers their choices. Katie provided comfort and companionship when he needed it most, and he could easily imagine living a lifetime as her husband without regret. Until he met Jennifer, that is. He pitied the Rodney McKays who had jumped the gun, perhaps in desperation, perhaps in romantic fervor, and trapped themselves in marriages that left them unable to hope for even one night with the woman of their dreams.

Jennifer.

Her presence in his life was one of those things that made Rodney want to believe in God just so he could say thank you.

Damn it, McKay. He turned his face toward the rain, hoping to lose the tears stinging his eyes amid the downpour. If Sheppard should notice and confront him, Rodney could not trust his voice to be steady.

He heard boots tromping in the mud and brought his P90 to his shoulder. He lowered the gun a moment later when Ronon emerged into view. Mud caked his face and the backs of his hands, making him nearly invisible in the dark. Disgust curled Ronon's lip when they made eye contact, and Rodney suppressed the urge to wipe his eyes. It would only make them redder. Great, Chewbacca the Wookie is convinced I'm even more of a wimp.

"Allergies?" Ronon sneered.

"Lots of pollen in the air," Rodney snapped, voice barely cracking.

Ronon snorted, then turned his attention to Watkins. "Can we move him?"

"Do we need to?" Sheppard said.

"Yeah."

"Rodney, get under his right shoulder. On three we lift and head for the gate. Ronon?"

"Ready with cover fire." His gun whined, overworked but ready for more action.

Sheppard nodded. "One, two, thr—"

A gunshot rang out, and Ronon crumpled. Villagers surrounded them, carrying a mix of repeating rifles and single shot muzzle loaders. The repeaters had concerned Sheppard more at long range, but this close the muzzle loaders were just as deadly.

One of the men with a repeater braced against his shoulder stepped forward. Rodney took this man, who reminded him of a malnourished Edward James Olmos, to be the leader.

"Hands up and drop those weapons." Spit flew from Olmos' lips as he cursed them.

"Shit," Sheppard said.

"Way ahead of you," Rodney joked.

His tongue passed over his split lip, and Rodney tasted blood. He dabbed at it with the sleeve of his tee shirt, wishing for the tissues sealed in a waterproof baggie Jennifer insisted he carry in his tac vest. It, along with his leather jacket, had been confiscated before the villagers tossed him in the cell. Olmos now wore the jacket but had left Rodney with some nice bruises as compensation.

Dabbing at the lip hurt, and Rodney wondered if it had hurt Jennifer this much when, similarly injured, she kissed him. His memory traveled back to that night, their first night together. It had not been their first kiss, fortunately; he'd never want to associate that memory with the taste of blood. No, they'd kissed awkwardly and sweetly on several occasions in the year or so they'd been acquainted. Something, though, always kept them from taking it further.

Until that night...

Her kisses were urgent and needy. Whenever she whimpered from the pain, Rodney would pull back, only to have Jennifer press her lips harder against his. After a while he relented, welcoming the coppery tang of her blood commingling with the salt of her tears. She did not sob, only murmured over and over, "I wasn't raped."

He was grateful for that and gave silent thanks to whatever deity might be listening. If she had been, Rodney would have commandeered a jumper and killed every goddamned Bola Kai on New Athos. The way she said it broke his heart, as if she thought her violation could change the way he felt about her.

He took charge, and their lovemaking became sweet and slow. She recited his name like a prayer and at her peak said those magic words that turn men into fools. Rodney repeated them, but not right away.

Now, days later, in a dank prison cell, he recognized the seed of doubt he'd let fester, understood the signs he'd missed: her strange quiet the next morning, her coldness as he saw her off, her unenthusiastic acceptance of his promise to greet her when she returned. He'd thought she regretted what they'd done. Honestly, he'd almost expected her to. This was worse.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "She thinks I lied to her. I'm going to die, and she thinks I don't..."

Rodney slid down the wall and buried his face in his hands as the tears that threatened to spill earlier returned with a ferocious intensity.

The cell door creaked on its hinges, and Colonel Sheppard's limp body was tossed inside. Sniffing – he dare not think of it as sniffling – Rodney rolled Sheppard onto his back. A split lip and black eye suggested the villagers didn't vary their interrogation technique from victim to victim. Rodney blinked his own swollen eyes. He'd taken a punch to his left but didn't think that's what caused the swelling.

"John? John?" He grasped Sheppard's shoulders and shook. "Come on. I've got an idea, but I need your help."

The colonel slapped his hand away.

"You're awake?" Rodney whispered.

"I let 'em think they hurt me worse than they did. They're, uh, not too bright."

Rodney helped Sheppard sit up. "Good, that can only help my plan."

"Later." Sheppard waved off further aid. "How's Watkins?"

Rodney found the young man's condition unchanged. "High fever, blood loss. I doubt a society this primitive employs advanced smelting techniques, so there's a pretty good chance of infection from the bullet. We need to get him back to Atlantis."

Sheppard grinned, displaying a set of bloody teeth. "Looks like Keller taught you more than you realize, McKay. So what's this plan of yours?"

"Okay. The soldiers who brought you in, did you notice their rifles?"

"Single shot, but they also had knives." Sheppard shook his head. "I couldn't chance fighting them."

"Single shot is right. All the grunts have them, while Olmos and his lieutenants—"

"Who?"

Rodney sighed. "The gray haired guy with the pitted face looks like Edward James Olmos. Focus, will you? He and his top guys have repeaters. So, if we go with the theory that the guys with the most powerful weapons run the show—"

Realization dawned on Sheppard. "Then we can play them against one another, convince the guys low on the totem pole it's time to snatch our guns and stage a revolt."

"Right. We get them to attack each other, slip out in the confusion, and head back to the gate. But we have to recover our IDC's or at least our radios. Otherwise, Atlantis won't lower the shield."

It was a good plan; the only way it could have been better is if it had actually worked.

To be continued

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.

Rev. Jan 2011