sga_santa | Fic: Taking the B Train - Part 1 of 2 (McKay/Sheppard, PG)

Title: Taking the B Train
Author: --

ldyanne
Recipient: --

ribbon_purple
Pairing: -- McShep
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Atlantis isn't mine. *sigh* It belongs to other people. This fan fic was written for fun, no money was made from this fanfic.
Author's Notes: -- I know you asked for fun and fluffy. I think that's there's too much angst for this to be considered fluffy, but I do hope I achieved fun. I hope AU is okay. While I suppose this could technically be termed a crossover with SG-1, it's first and foremost a tale of John and Rodney. There could be spoilers for pretty much anything SG-1 or Atlantis. Also, I have tried to ground this in canon, so I have used some lines here and there that you might recognize. No plagiarism is intended.
With thanks to my beta, you know who you are, for your help and encouragement. Any mistakes remaining are all my own.
Summary: The first time John Sheppard saw Rodney McKay he thought he was hallucinating.

~~~~~

The first time John Sheppard saw Rodney McKay he thought he was hallucinating. It wasn't too surprising really, considering that he was drunk off his ass.

It had just been one of those days when everything hit him hard – he'd started his day waking from the nightmare where he'd had to leave Holland behind in the hands of the Taliban. Waking up only mitigated the nightmare a little by the bare fact that Holland had died in an Air Force hospital instead of on the sand in Afghanistan.

The day hadn't gotten any better after breakfast. His therapist for his twice-weekly appointment at the VA was a sadist who enjoyed making her patients suffer in John's opinion. His leg wasn't going to get any better but she still made him do his exercises. On his better days John knew it was necessary, but it wasn't one of his better days.

In the middle of the day, while he was contemplating the f*-up his life had become; he picked up the phone to find his father on the other of the line. He'd almost hung up. He should have hung up. But he'd never been one to take the easy way out, so he gritted his teeth and said, "Hey."

"John?" his father inquired, like anyone else was going to answer John's phone.

"It's me, dad," John said.

"How are you, son?" his father asked, his voice even held a tone of concern.

"About the same," John answered, not wanting to have this conversation.

"So, no improvement, then?"

"No, dad," John said not wanting to think about the fact that his leg was never going to get better, he was never going to fly again. He didn't need to think about it, he had his father to call him every other week or so to remind him of those facts.

"You know you can come home any time you want?"

John had to bite his tongue at that. His dad would love that, to have John limp home, literally, hat in hand, begging for crumbs from the family fortune. John might be down, but he wasn't that far down. Yet.

"No, thanks, dad, I'm okay right now. I'm thinking of going back to school to get my Ph.D." John didn't know why he'd said it, but it was out there. It might even be true.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a full five seconds, it brightened John's day.

"Alright then," his father said at last. "If you need anything, you know where I am."

"Yes, sir," John said instead of ‘that'll be the day that hell freezes over.' He hung up before he threw the phone against the wall. Cell phones were expensive to replace. Actually he'd told his father the truth, he was doing okay – he had money saved up from his time in the Air Force. That and his pension should get him by until he figured out what he wanted to do. Going back to school almost sounded like a plan. Almost. It wasn't flying, but it was something.

By the end of the day, John had just had enough. He didn't have anywhere better to be, so he went to the bar where he had dinner most evenings. He just kept drinking until he didn't care anymore that his best friend was dead and he was grounded because of his bum leg. Of course, John had a feeling if not for that bum leg; he would have been booted out of the Air Force for not following orders when he went after Holland. But someone upstairs must have thought that being grounded was bad enough, they let him out with a medical discharge.

When the bartender, Martin, looked up to find John sitting at the bar, he held out his hand. John gave up his keys without protest. He didn't hit the bar often, usually he just had a beer with his dinner and went home. But when he did, he didn't tend to leave until he could barely stagger through the door on his own.

Just before closing time, Martin called a cab. He helped John up the stairs and into the cab, handing his keys to the cabbie.

The cabbie was a good kid. He saw John's bad leg and the way it was dragging along just a little. Once they reached his house, the cabbie threw one of John's arms over his shoulder nearly carrying John up the stairs to his door. He tried keys until he found the one that unlocked the door.

Pushing the door open with his foot, he handed the keys to John with the admonishment, "Don't lose them," before he shoved John through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

"Good kid," John slurred in parting, patting at the door.

Dropping the keys onto the table just inside the door, John leaned back against the door waiting for the room to stop spinning. He looked down the hallway to his bedroom. The bedroom was in the back of the house and the hallway was long. The way everything was rotating, the front hall looked like just as good a place as any to crash.

Fumbling with the light switch next to the door he finally got it on nearly blinding himself. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Once they did, he was surprised to find a man standing in the hallway in front of him.

"Hello?" the man frowned at John, his eyes intense.

"Hey," John responded, his brain wasn't working fast enough to figure out why it was wrong to find someone standing in his house in the wee hours of the morning. He just knew that his internal alarms were going off.

"Can you see me?" the man asked. He seemed way more excited than he should be for an intruder in John's home.

John blinked again and the guy was still standing there – about John's height with dark hair, broad shoulders and the bluest eyes that John had ever seen. He had his arms out like he might try to catch John if he fell.

"Uhm…" John responded slowly, wondering if it was some sort of trick question, "I think so."

The man crossed his arms. "Oh, great, I finally get someone on Earth and he's brain damaged. This is Earth, isn't it?"

"Uhm… yeah." John knew he was drunk, but usually he could communicate a little better.

"You are brain damaged," the man scowled, one side of his mouth tipping down. "I should have known with that hair."

"Hey," a protest forced itself from John, "there's nothing wrong with my hair." He scrubbed through his hair, disarranging it more.

"Yes, and next I suppose you're going to tell me that it does that naturally?"

"It does do this naturally," John said stiffly. "You know, for a hallucination, you're awfully rude."

"What, you're used to polite hallucinations?" the man asked.

John shrugged, "Don't know, never had one before."

The man's chin tipped up, "Just so you know, this is me being nice."

"Huh," John said just as his stomach protested a night spent drinking, pain meds and very little food. He crashed to his knees, throwing up spectacularly all over the hallucination's shoes.

"Ewww. That's just gross." John squinted up at the man. He'd backed up so that he was no longer standing in the middle of the mess. There was an unhappy tilt to the man's mouth and John kind of wanted to smooth it out. "You're drunk aren't you?"

John couldn't answer; he was too busy throwing up everything he'd eaten for the last two weeks.

"Listen, I'll be back when you're more coherent," the man said. Then he was just gone.

John waved a weak goodbye to his hallucination.

Despite his leg, he managed to get to the bathroom where he spent a painful eternity emptying his stomach. When he thought that he'd purged everything he'd eaten since 2002, he struggled to his feet. After he wrestled his shoes off and peeled off his clothes letting them lay where they fell on the floor, he fumbled in the medicine cabinet until he found his big bottle of aspirin. He swallowed some down and guzzled a glass of water before he stumbled to his bed. He face planted, unconscious before his head even hit the pillows.

~~~~~~

When he woke up the next morning John was pretty certain that if he moved, his head was going to fall off. Not moving was a good strategy until he realized he needed to pee. Ignoring it wasn't doing any good, so he finally cracked his eyes open only to find a pair of blue eyes scant inches from his face staring down at him intently.

Adrenaline kicked in and John scrambled for his gun. It was a good plan except he was still unsteady and his bad leg wasn't cooperating and he got all tangled up in the blankets.

He ended up falling out of bed, landing on his ass in a heap with his covers twisted around his feet. He fumbled through the drawer in his bedside table until he found the gun. He leveled it with shaking hands on the intruder.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"You know, if I wanted to kill you, all I'd have to do is wait for you to strangle yourself in your blankets." The man was infuriatingly calm. He looked down on John with disdain in his blue eyes. "Would you get up? You look ridiculous down there."

Keeping the weapon as steady as he could, John blinked up at the man, trying to figure out where he'd seen him before. "Aren't you the hallucination from last night?" he asked when it came to him where he'd last seen the man.

"Well yes and no," the hallucination said. "You did see me last night, but I'm not a hallucination."

"Not a hallucination?" John repeated. He was trying to get his eyes to focus and his stomach contents to stay in his stomach where they belonged.

"Although I'm still not certain you aren't brain damaged," the man moved around the bed toward John. John didn't know what nefarious purpose he had in mind, but he didn't intend to wait around and find out.

"Stay where you are," John said raising the gun higher. His steely tones were definitely undermined by the way he kept listing to the left.

"Oh, please," the hallucination sneered. "You can't even sit up straight, what do you think you're going to do to me? Throw up on my shoes again? Besides which, I'm not actually here."

"So you are a hallucination," John proclaimed in triumph.

"Not a hallucination in the sense that I'm not a figment of your drunken imagination," the man said. "I am however not really here. I'm more of a projection that's in your bedroom, and you're the only one that can see me." The man looked around at the bare room that held only a bed and a nightstand. There was a sheet across the window that served to keep the room private and lend a little shade from the sun that an annoying habit of rising on that side of his house. "You know I've seen hovels more tastefully decorated." He sniffed disdainfully.

John really didn't know what the man was talking about. He kicked the covers away. Then, using the wall to balance himself, he struggled to his feet. He swayed a little once he was upright, but he didn't fall over so he was making progress. "Who are you and what do you want?" He demanded.

"There see, now that's a question I can answer," the man said a little too brightly, like he was talking to a child or someone of limited intelligence. John chose to let it go for the moment if it got him some answers. "My name is Dr. Rodney McKay and I'm in the Pegasus Galaxy."

John stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, before he relaxed the arm with the gun and let it drop to his side. "And you think I'm crazy?"

"What?" the hallucination demanded. "I answered your question."

"What do you want?" John asked wearily. Really all he wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep until his hangover was gone. If the guy wanted to rob him, John wasn't sure that he wouldn't let him try. There wasn't much in the house to take, he'd go away empty handed.

"It's pretty simple, really," Rodney McKay (he might as well have a name as opposed to ‘the hallucination,' John thought) said, "I want you to call General O'Neill at the SGC, I'll give you the number, and deliver a message for me."

John stared at him for a moment, wondering if somehow, someway, someone was playing a really bad practical joke on him. "General *Jack* O'Neill?"

McKay literally bounced on his toes. "Yes! You know him?"

John was suddenly furious. "Listen, I don't know who you are really, but this isn't funny. Now get out of here." He took a step forward to grab the man's arm and got nothing but air. "Wha?"

McKay frowned at him, "Didn't you get the part where I'm not a hallucination, but I'm not really here? I'm in the Pegasus Galaxy in a… communication device that lets me talk to people in the Milky Way Galaxy with the ATA gene, although why it picked you, I don't… Hey stop that!" McKay took a step back as John waved a hand back in forth in his mid section.

John blinked up at him, "I must have been drunker than I thought," he said. To further test his theory, John lifted his weapon and fired. He watched as the bullet passed completely through the man standing in front of him to bury itself in the opposite wall.

"You shot me," McKay snapped, his eyes flashing furiously.

"In the leg," John pointed out, staring at the aforementioned leg. It looked perfectly solid and real, but he'd also seen the bullet pass through it.

"But you shot me!" the other man insisted.

John's own leg was screaming and he felt like his head was going to fall off at any moment. "Listen," he said, "let me just go to the bathroom and then we can… I don't know. Talk."

McKay didn't protest as John limped into the bathroom and firmly closed the door behind him with the clear message that he'd like a little privacy. He didn't show up either as John went about his business, which made John feel a little better about his not-a-hallucination… visitor.

After a shower and drugs John actually felt almost human again. He emerged from the bathroom, not even thinking, with just a towel wrapped around his hips. A choked noise made him look up at McKay. He found the man staring at him, his eyes fastened on the towel.

"Is that uhm… painful," he waved a vague hand in John's direction.

John realized McKay was talking about his scar. Of course with just the towel on it was starkly obvious. Starting on his left hip, it slashed down to his knee. It was healed, but it was still red and angry looking.

John didn't answer him. He clutched the towel to make sure it stayed closed and limped over to his dresser. He pulled clothes out, not really looking at what he was choosing. Not that there was much chance of a fashion disaster since his wardrobe mostly consisted of soft black t-shirts and jeans.

"Give me a minute to dress," John said not looking to see if McKay was even paying attention. "And make a pot of coffee."

There was a moan that almost pornographic in nature from the corner where McKay stood. "You have coffee?" he whined.

The clear tone of longing in his voice made John smile. "Yeah, I have coffee. But you're not here. Remember? You're in the Pegasus Galaxy."

John pulled on his clothes and brushed a hand through his hair. He turned to McKay who had stayed silent far longer than John thought he was actually capable of from previous evidence to find the man staring.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to figure out what could spook a hallucination.

"I'm ah… fine. Just not used to being in the room with a naked man that I'm not… you know…" then he proceeded to blush, a red stain across his cheeks that was almost endearing.

"Come on," John told him leading the way to the kitchen. "You can tell me why you want to me to call General Jack O'Neill over coffee."

"Oh, now you're just being mean," McKay snapped, but he obediently followed John to the kitchen.

"Do you actually live here?" McKay asked as he got a look at John's kitchen. "Because I don't see much evidence of it."

It was true that the kitchen was kind of bare, with a table and two chairs placed next to the window where John could sit with his morning coffee and read the paper or do the crossword. The only thing on the counters was the coffee pot that was set up to brew automatically. All John had to do was pull his mug (his only coffee mug) down from the cabinet and pour the coffee.

As he poured McKay crowded in next to him; he would have been stepping on John's feet if he'd been really there, eyeing the coffee greedily.

"We've been out of coffee for months," he said mournfully.

John leaned back against the counter and just inhaled his coffee, eliciting another moan from McKay. John quirked an eyebrow and held the cup out, "You want some."

"Stop it, that's cruel…" McKay frowned at him. He watched avidly as John took his first sip.

"Mmmmmm," John moaned a little just to watch McKay squirm uncomfortably. "I'm John Sheppard by the way," he added just to see the confused expression in McKay's eyes as he tried to parse the information.

"Oh, oh, yes," he said, tearing his eyes away from the coffee cup with an effort. "Sheppard, that's… that's good." He seemed to remember why he was standing in John's kitchen having illicit relations with John's coffee. He stepped back and straightened. "Right, I need you to call General O'Neill, the number is…."

"Now, hold on," John interrupted, holding up a hand. "I need to know a little about this if he's not going to think I'm insane."

McKay blinked at him. "I can't actually tell you anything. It's all classified."

John tilted his head, studying the other man with narrowed eyes, still not sure that this wasn't some elaborate practical joke. Except he didn't have any friends who would care enough to pull a prank like this off. "Come on, McKay," he growled, "you're calling me long distance from the Pegasus Galaxy and you're pulling the classified card on me? You can't expect me to call a general in the United States Air Force and tell him that a hallucination asked me to call."

"Yes, you can," McKay insisted, "Just the fact that you have the number will tell him you're for real. Listen," McKay's whole demeanor changed. He looked afraid and miserable. For the first time John took a really good look at him. He saw the dark circles under the bloodshot blue eyes, and the pinched look to his face. "Listen," he continued earnestly, "a lot of people have already died. More are going to die. I don't know if O'Neill can help, but I've got to try everything I can."

The words jolted John. Whatever else, McKay believed what he said. And if John had a chance to help people in need, he had to take it. "Okay," he said simply.

"I know you don't understand what's happening. Hell I don't understand what's happening, and I'm the foremost expert in Ancient technology in two galaxies…" realizing what he was saying McKay pressed his lips together tightly, his eyes beseeching.

John smirked a little. He didn't need to torture the guy for information, just keep him talking and Rodney McKay would spill everything he knew in no time. "I said yes," he repeated.

"I… what?"

"I said yes."

"Oh, well, yes, of course you did. Thank you." McKay was unexpectedly subdued.

"You're welcome. Now what's that phone number?"

"You're going to call him now?" McKay's mouth gaped open. He stared at John.

"No time like the present," John said cheerfully. He didn't know when he started to actually believe his hallucination, but he figured the best way to get to the bottom of things was to dial the number. If Jack O'Neill answered, well John would deal with that when it happened. If he got a pizza place, well, then that would answer the question of whether he was lying in a psych ward somewhere pumped full of the good drugs.

"I have to tell you," he said conversationally as he dialed the number McKay recited for him slowly, "I'm still not sure you're not a result of PTSD."

There wasn't a chance for McKay to respond as the phone on the other end began to ring. It was picked up on the third ring.

"O'Neill," the voice on the other end of the line said. John almost dropped his coffee.

"General Jack O'Neill?" he asked slowly.

McKay smirked and folded his arms, he tipped up his chin up in triumph. "Told ya," he mouthed at John.

"Yes, and who is this?" the voice on the other end of the line snapped.

John swallowed as everything around him settled into a new reality. There were humans in another galaxy. And one of them was standing in his kitchen asking for help. "I'm John Sheppard, sir, you don't know me."

"How did you get this number?" O'Neill snapped. The hair on the back of John's neck rose.

"Well, that's kind of a funny story, sir. You see Rodney McKay gave it to me."

"McKay?" John could practically feel suspicion radiating from the other end of the line. "What do you know about Rodney McKay?"

"I know that he's in the Pegasus Galaxy and he needs our help, that's why I'm calling."

"Listen, Sheppard," O'Neill growled at him. "I don't know what you're up to. But this isn't funny and it stops now. Don't tell anyone else what you think you know and don't call this number again." The line clicked and went dead. John blinked down at the phone in his hand.

"What? What did he say?" McKay asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Rodney, he didn't believe me," John said.

The disappointment in McKay's eyes was almost more than John could take.

"Call him back," he said his lips pressed into a straight line.

"McKay…"

"No," he went on, ignoring John, "I can't tell Elizabeth that I failed, that Earth wouldn't even talk to us."

"Elizabeth?" John asked, just for something to say.

"Dr. Elizabeth Weir. She's the leader of our expedition." There was nothing in McKay's voice, it was just flat, like he'd lost all life and hope. John really wanted to just put his arms around him and make everything alright again. Then he took a deep breath and looked John square in the eye. "You've got to call him back."

John didn't know General Jack O'Neill, but he knew *of* General Jack O'Neill. He knew that the man could make John's life hell if he wanted to. But, looking into the Rodney's eyes and seeing the bleak despair there, John knew he was going to have to do it.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number again.

"I thought I told you not to call this number again," O'Neill greeted him.

"Sir, I really need to talk to you. It's a matter of life and death."

"You know surprisingly, pretty much everything in my life is a matter of life and death. And I can't figure out what your angle is. Really. Don't call me again."

Again the phone went dead.

"I'm sorry, Rodney," John said.

McKay just sort of seemed to sag for a second, but then he pulled himself together. "Okay, okay, O'Neill's not the only person we can call. You can call Sam Carter, she'll believe you."

"Hold on, McKay, let me think," John said. He moved around the kitchen pulling out bread. If he was going to help McKay, he was going to need sustenance.

"You're going to help?" McKay whispered, as if he didn't know if he should believe John or not.

"Well, sure," John scowled at him, "it's not every day that Princess Leia comes to me for help."

That did the trick, McKay straightened and leveled a steely blue gaze on John. "I am not Princess Leai in this scenario."

John paused in spreading peanut butter on the bread. He waved the knife up and down at Rodney, "What? You're hologram-like and you're coming to me for help. Oh! That makes me Obi Wan. Cool!"

Rodney crossed his arms, "Oh, no, no, my friend that makes General O'Neill Obi Wan Kenobi, that makes you R2D2."

John pouted as he finished spreading jam on the bread, "Come on, I'm at least Luke Skywalker in this scenario."

"R2D2," McKay asserted stubbornly. Then he melted a little, "Okay, maybe Han Solo, you've got that whole rakish thing going with the hair."

"Rakish? You think so?" John felt oddly warmed.

"Just stop," Rodney rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to feed your ego. People are in dire need of help here. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, McKay, I don't know if there's much I can do about it…"

"But…" McKay started to interrupt. John held up a hand to stop him.

"I have a few ideas though. First of all, I think I need to talk to the general in person. It's a lot harder to hang up on someone in person."

Rodney gaped at him. "You'd do that?"

John shrugged, pleased at the gratitude he saw in Rodney's eyes. "I was in the Air Force, you know," he said. "I've disobeyed plenty of orders," he worked hard to keep his voice casual. "What's one more for old time's sake?"

"This could work!" Rodney began to pace. It made John wince when he walked through the table and chairs.

"How does that work?" John asked at last, unable to help himself.

"That?" Rodney frowned at him before looking down to find himself standing in the middle of the kitchen table. "Oh, this?" He waved a hand to encompass himself and the kitchen. John nodded.

"Well, I'm actually in a little room in Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" John asked just to see if Rodney would answer.

Rodney frowned at the interruption, but he said, "City of the Ancients in the Pegasus Galaxy." John carefully hid his smirk. "Anyway, as I was saying, I'm in a little room, I guess it's like a phone booth. It allows me to contact someone with the ATA gene on Earth."

"Huh, so it's like that TV series, Quantum Leap, you're Admiral Calavicci," John said.

"Yes, yes, if you must have it in the simplest possible terms," Rodney scowled at him.

John grinned back. "Brain damaged remember?"

Rodney started to snap a reply, undoubtedly snarky, but that was when the door to John's house crashed open and someone came crashing through the kitchen window on a zip line swinging straight over the table and through Rodney.

John could only stare at the black-clad men crowding his kitchen. "I guess General O'Neill wants to see me," he said. He smirked at Rodney, "I love it when a plan comes together."

That was when Rodney disappeared.

"McKay," he called desperately, but there was no answer. Rodney was gone. John turned to face the man who seemed to be in charge of the operation. He was a tall, dark-skinned man. He wore a cap pulled down low over his face. "I guess this means I'm going to see the wizard," he said.

"You are not going to see the wizard," the man replied in all seriousness, "you are going to see General Jack O'Neill."

~~~~~~

John was too worried about McKay and the sudden way he disappeared to enjoy the tricked out jet that was his ride to wherever General O'Neill wanted him.

McKay had said that people were dying in Atlantis, his city of the Ancients, in the Pegasus Galaxy. John couldn't help but wonder if maybe McKay himself was now dead in some faraway place where John would never get to meet him. He no longer doubted that McKay was real. Now it was just a matter of what John could do to help him.

He glanced over at his ‘escort.' They'd ditched most of the ninja-wanabees at the airport where John and his entourage boarded the sleek little Gulf Stream. It could have carried all of the strike team in comfort but he was left with just three people to escort him to his destination.

Obviously the general didn't think John was too much of a threat because, besides the imposing, dark-skinned man who could have broken John in half by himself, the man and the woman with him weren't all that threatening. The woman was blonde and cute in a ‘don't mess with me or I'll kick your ass' kind of way. The man was about John's age with dark hair and blue eyes hidden behind glasses.

Mostly they ignored John and left him to himself, which suited John just fine.

The big man took his cap off once they were safely on board the plane. John gaped at the gold tattoo that was revealed on the man's forehead. John didn't stop staring until the woman leaned over and whispered, "Don't stare, Teal'c doesn't like it.

John averted his eyes then, but he couldn't help sneaking glances at the team traveling with him. He had no idea what he was involved in or where he was going, but somehow he didn't mind. This was the most excitement he'd had since he left the Air Force.

While he was nervous about his upcoming meeting with General Jack O'Neill, the man could make his life hell after all, he wasn't afraid. Fear was seeing your best friend bleeding out into the sand. Fear was knowing people needed him and having no idea what to do to help them.

He just hoped that McKay showed up in time to deliver his message to O'Neill because John didn't know how to make a freaking general believe him otherwise.

"So, uh… where are we going?" he asked finally when the silence on board the jet got to be almost more than John could take.

"To see General Jack O'Neill," Teal'c answered, his mouth seemingly carved in a perpetual frown.

John refused to be cowed, "Come on, can't you just give me a clue? How many letters?"

The woman stepped in then. She smiled at John and said, "We're going to Colorado Springs."

John's mind raced trying to fit together pieces. The Air Force Academy was in Colorado Springs. John had attended the academy so he was pretty familiar with Colorado Springs, he had pleasant memories of his time there.

More importantly NORAD was located there, in Cheyenne Mountain. There had been some pretty freaky rumors about Cheyenne Mountain and NORAD, but John had always discounted them. Now after having met a not-quite-there man from another galaxy he wasn't so sure those rumors were so freaky anymore.

The other man looked up from the book he was reading, "You know it would probably be best if you cooperated."

John bit down on his snarky response. It wouldn't help Rodney and the people of Atlantis if he antagonized these people. So he'd cooperate. For now.

"Sure, why not," he said. "I'm John Sheppard, by the way."

"Yes, we know," the woman answered. "I'm Sam Carter, this is Daniel Jackson," she gestured to the man with the book. He peered over his glasses at John and nodded. "And you've met Teal'c." She smiled fondly at the big guy.

"So, Rodney McKay," John said. Sam and Daniel exchanged glances. Teal'c raised a brow. They all watched him expectantly. They weren't giving anything up. So much for getting information from them.

"Maybe I should wait and talk to General O'Neill," he said when he couldn't stand the silence and the expectant stares any more.

"That would be best," Teal'c agreed gravely.

John settled back trying to relax and failing miserably. He wished he could enjoy the flight because the Gulf Stream was a sweet ride even if he wasn't the one flying. But his leg hurt like fuck. He couldn't believe that he'd left his pain meds back in his apartment. But when he'd been ‘asked' to accompany the intruders in his apartment, his pain medication had been the furthest thing from his mind.

John kept looking around, expecting Rodney to show up at any time. The more time that passed and it didn't happen, the more John was certain that something Very Bad had happened to him.

Despite his worry and the throbbing in his leg, the chair was comfortable and the purr of the jets engines was lulling. Before too long, he fell asleep. He dreamed that he was a following a rabbit that sounded a lot like Rodney McKay when he fell through a hole in the world.

~~~~~

Somehow General O'Neill wasn't as tall as John expected him to be.

John had expected someone taller than life, certainly someone more imposing than the gray-haired man with dark circles under his eyes who sat across from him in the interrogation room. Oh, they'd called it an ‘interview room' when they'd brought him in. But John knew an interrogation room when he was sitting in one. This wasn't his first time to the dance.

Except for the table and the chairs placed around, the room was bare. Before they began Daniel Jackson brought John a cup of coffee. O'Neill scowled at him, but Daniel waved a hand at him and slid the coffee across the table to John.

"I didn't know if you wanted anything in it," Daniel said apologetically.

John took it gratefully, "Black is fine," he assured the other man.

He would have killed for his pain pills but there was no way he was asking General O'Neill for them. Coffee would have to do. He sipped at the cup as Jackson left the room. John suspected he would be watching the ‘interview' in the adjoining room. John could see his reflection in a mirror opposite that he was dead certain was a two-way mirror from which Jackson and anyone else who wanted could watch from the adjoining room.

He sipped his coffee while he waited for the general to speak. For his part O'Neill sat without speaking for several minutes. He just sat, watching John, his gaze steely and hard. There was a file on the table in front of O'Neill, but he didn't touch it. John could see his name typed in neat letters at the top.

John knew this game. He'd learned it sitting across the dinner table from his father and had honed his skill on his commanding officers over the years. If O'Neill thought John was going to break first, he had another thing coming.

"So, Rodney McKay?" O'Neill said finally when it became obvious that John wasn't going to break and confess to some nefarious plot.

John did his best not to fidget. He hadn't done anything wrong; in fact he was here because he was trying to help. "That's actually a funny story," he started.

"Trust me, Sheppard, there's nothing funny about this situation."

John had the distinct feeling that O'Neill thought he had done something wrong.

"Do you know how secret my cell phone number is?" O'Neill didn't wait for John to answer. He leaned forward and growled, "It's so secret that I don't even have clearance to know it. The only guy who knows my number is Walter and he just knows things. So, how did you get it?" O'Neill sat back waiting for John's answer.

John cleared his throat. "Well, you see… I saw Rodney McKay this morning and he asked me to call you." Yeah, it sounded lame as hell to John, too.

"Rodney McKay?" Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously, "This Rodney McKay?" O'Neill opened the file and pushed it over in front of John. There was a picture on top, a picture of Rodney McKay.

John breathed out a sigh of relief; McKay was a real person after all. He'd been pretty sure, but there was always a small possibility that he'd been an hallucination after all. The doctors at the VA kept going on about PTSD, they were all certain that John was going to crack at any moment. To be honest John was surprised that he hadn't.

He nodded, trying to find the right words to tell his story that would make the general believe him. He kept hoping that McKay would show back up. Not that that would help, John was the only person that could see Rodney McKay, but at least he wouldn't be alone in this any more. (does he know this for sure at this point?)

O'Neill slapped his hand on the table next to the picture. "I hate to break it to you, but McKay isn't in this country. I know where he is and there's no way you could have seen him in…" O'Neill glanced down at the file, "San Francisco this morning."

John leaned in, eager to prove himself. "I know. He's in the Pegasus Galaxy. He told me that. And he asked me to call you."

The temperature in the room went absolutely glacial. O'Neill leaned in even more seeming to grow about two feet. "Listen Sheppard, I don't know what your game is, or who you're working for, but I'm giving you one shot to tell me the truth or I'm going to throw you in a hole so deep that your mother isn't going to be able to find you."

"I'm not working for anyone, sir," John desperately racked his brain for something to say that would make the general believe him. "Rodney said people were going to die unless you helped."

O'Neill rose, fury written in every line of his body. Grabbing John's shirt, O'Neill yanked him to his feet, pulling him in until they were nose to nose. "Are you making a threat, mister?"

John floundered not knowing what to say to keep a bad situation from getting worse.

That was the moment that Rodney appeared. He was bruised and kind of bloody and his arm was in a sling, but John didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look better in his life.

"Sheppard?" he said when he popped in from wherever he was. When he spied the tableau presented by John and the general, Rodney scowled. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?"

John shrugged as best he could in the general's grip. "Some help would be good here, McKay," he hissed.

The general released John so abruptly he almost fell backwards. He caught himself on the table before he fell on his ass.

"McKay? Is he here?" O'Neill asked sharply. He peered around the room.

John gave a bark of bitter laughter. He was so dead. If they didn't shoot him as a spy, they were going to lock him up in psych ward. He wasn't ever going to fly again, that much was certain. "Yes," he said shortly, waving a hand in Rodney's direction.

He didn't really expect O'Neill to believe him. Hell, if he wasn't seeing the imaginary man from another galaxy, he wouldn't believe it himself.

Instead of calling the men with the white coats and having John carted away, O'Neill turned towards the mirror, "Carter, did you get that? McKay's here."

His companion from the plane answered, "Yes, sir, I heard. I'll be right in."

John gaped at the general, "You believe me?" he asked at last.

The general smirked at him, "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time something like this has happened. You'll have to ask Daniel about what a pain in the ass it is to be on a different temporal plane or whatever the hell happened to him."

McKay snapped his fingers at that. "Oh, yeah, it was the incident with the crystal skull a few years back."

"This shit's happened before?" John stared unbelieving from Rodney to O'Neill and back again. "Oh, hell, I have gone insane, haven't I?"

That was when Sam Carter came in with a cart full of equipment. John didn't miss how McKay suddenly stood up straighter and sucked in his stomach.

"Give it up, McKay," he said sourly, "she can't see you."

Carter looked around the room curiously, "So, McKay's really here? Just let me," she started fiddling with the equipment while she walked through the middle of Rodney. It kind of made John's stomach knot.

"Tell Sam she looks hot," Rodney said earnestly.

John ignored him. Instead he said, "He says people have died in the Pegasus Galaxy, General, and more are going to die if you don't help them."

Ignoring John completely, O'Neill turned to the woman. "Carter, is it possible for Rodney McKay to be communicating with Sheppard somehow?"

"Yes," Rodney said. He started to cross his arms and yelped when he jarred the arm that was in the sling.

Carter fiddled with her equipment, sweeping a wand-like piece around the room. She frowned down at what the machine was telling her.

"I don' know, sir, I'm not getting anything."

"I keep telling her she couldn't find her ass…" Rodney started.

"McKay," Sheppard snapped sharply.

"What did he say?" Carter asked, her eyes wandering the room curiously. "I bet he said that I couldn't find my ass with both hands."

John didn't have to answer; the way his jaw dropped was answer enough.

She didn't take offense though, she turned to the general and shrugged. "This is the Ancients we're talking about. They're the race that built the gates." John didn't know what a ‘gate' was, but he really, really wanted to know. "I've read his file and if Sheppard says he's talking to Rodney McKay, I'm inclined to believe him."

The general considered her words before leaning back in his chair. "How would something like that work?" he asked thoughtfully."

"Sheppard's got to have the ATA gene," Rodney said as if it had to be immediately obvious.

"Well, it's a sure bet that Sheppard would have to have the ATA gene for a device like this to work from the Pegasus Galaxy, and a pretty strong expression of it, too, for McKay to get him instead of you."

"I'm really in the psych ward, aren't I?" John said to no one in particular.

"I know it's a lot to take in, Mr. Sheppard," Carter said, her tone amused, "but trust me when I say that this is all real."

McKay managed to pull off smug without saying anything at all.

"Okay," O'Neill seemed to come to a decision. "Let's get this show on the road. Daniel," O'Neill called out to the ceiling again, "would you join us in here, please?"

"I'll be right in," Daniel answered.

"Sheppard, sit down before you fall down," the general instructed tersely. John obeyed the command tone from long habit.

"Now, McKay, talk to us. What is so important that you've had to call us long distance from Pegasus?" O'Neill said to the room at large. He managed to make it seem normal to be talking to a person that only John could see.

Before he could begin, Daniel Jackson slipped through the door, followed by Teal'c. The big man stood at the door filling the room with his presence. Jackson slid a bottle of water over to John along with a wrapped sandwich. He also handed John his pain medication.

"Forgot I had them," he shrugged off John's stammered thanks before he moved to stand with Carter. He looked over her shoulder as she continued to poke at her equipment, frowning down at it.

John dumped a pill out and dry swallowed it before he twisted the lid off the water and took a long drink. It meant something that they had given him his meds and the water. Maybe they weren't going to shoot him as a spy after all.

"Ready when you are," he told Rodney.

With a deep breath Rodney launched into his story, "Okay, long story short, the city of the Ancients, Atlantis, is here, we found it. It's in pristine shape, better than we could have ever hoped for. Problem is, it doesn't respond well to us.

"There were several people in the expedition with the gene," Carter interrupted John to interject.

"Yes, but none of them have a strong expression of the gene. Carson's is the strongest and the city just doesn't like him for whatever reason. So a lot of the more vital systems don't work or, if we can get them to work, it's only half-assed."

"We did think that there was a mental component to the technology," Sam offered.

"Yes, and Carson is basically terrified of everything Ancient. Remember the incident in Antarctica?"

Carter rolled her eyes in clear contempt of Rodney's words. John decided he really, really didn't like her. "He wasn't trying to kill you, Rodney, it was an accident."

"Carson knew I was on that helicopter. I think subconsciously he might have influenced the drone."

"Kids, can we get back to the subject at hand?" O'Neill neatly cut them both off. John wondered just how much practice he had at wrangling feuding scientists."

It was probably a good thing O'Neill couldn't see Rodney because he was glaring at the general. "Fine, yes, where was I?"

"City doesn't respond well," John supplied.

"Yes. Alright. So, the city was underwater when we got there with a shield holding back the ocean."

"Underwater," Jackson leaned in, his eyes bright. "That would explain all the myths about Atlantis sinking into the ocean."

"Daniel," the general interjected. "Can this wait for another time?"

"I… uhm… okay," Jackson subsided but John could see that he wasn't happy.

Rodney picked up his narrative as if he'd never been interrupted, "So, the city was underwater, but the ZedPM that was providing power to the shield protecting the city was almost depleted. Our arrival further taxed it until it reached maximum entropy and the shield collapsed."

"But, but you were under the ocean, you would have all died," Carter said quietly.

McKay's face looked pinched and unhappy, like the story was bringing back bad memories. "Fortunately for us the Ancients had designed a failsafe so that when the ZedPM failed the city would rise to the surface."

John let out a breath of relief when McKay paused for a breath. Logically he knew that something had saved the city, he was talking to Rodney after all, but the story was affecting him nonetheless.

"So, you're on the surface?" O'Neill prompted.

"Yes, without any power. Yes, yes," Rodney waved off Carter's words before she could speak them. "We had naquadah generators with us, and we could power some of the systems, but not the shields and certainly not the control chair. We were safe for the moment, but all the supplies we had was what we brought with us, and we didn't know if or when we could count on anything from Earth, so we started using the gate to find places in Pegasus to trade, allies to assist us. We came across a group of people called the Athosians. They told us of a race called the Wraith that… feed off of humans." McKay lifted his hand until it hovered over John's chest. "They drain our life force or some shit like that. All I know is…," his gaze grew distant and his eyes shadowed, "it's the most horrifying thing I've ever seen."

There was quiet in the room as they considered the implications of what McKay was saying.

"One of the Athosians, Teyla Emmagan, told us that the Wraith hibernate for hundreds of years at a time. But something woke them up. I don't know, maybe they sensed that someone was back in Atlantis, maybe it was just their time to wake up, who knows? But they've come out of hibernation and they're culling planets again. The problem, besides the whole feeding on humans thing, is that there aren't enough humans in the Pegasus Galaxy to feed them."

"Earth?" O'Neill asked quietly.

Rodney nodded, his face a sickly shade of gray. "The Ancients fought against the Wraith, and they lost. It's the reason they came to Earth 10,000 years ago. They Wraith have taken some of our people and they know about Earth and the Milky Way Galaxy."

"That's bad," Jackson spoke for the first time.

"No shit, Sherlock," Rodney said.

John didn't repeat it. He told Daniel, "Rodney says you're absolutely right."

"What are you, my mother?" Rodney shot John a frosty glare before going on, "They know that there are people from Earth in Atlantis. We had a couple of Wraith darts strafe us a few days ago and a Wraith even got into the city. We managed to kill it, but we don't have any idea what kind of intel it was able to get to its people before that. We've been able to get some of the long range sensors to work in the last day or two." He paused swallowing convulsively.

"And?" the general prompted.

"There are hive ships headed for Atlantis." Rodney said.

"And they know about Earth." The room was deadly quiet after O'Neill's statement.

Rodney was looking more and more strained, the pain lines around his eyes were more pronounced. John was noticing little details – like the fact that the sling Rodney was sporting looked more like a belt and the wound on his arm was wound with gauze over his shirt sleeve.

Rodney nodded, "They do, but we don't think they know that Earth is in another galaxy. They just know there's a place with six billion people just waiting for them, like a buffet. We also have the only gate in Pegasus that's capable of connecting to Earth. If we have to… we're prepared to destroy the city to keep it out of Wraith hands. But we're a little reluctant to take that step." Rodney thrust his chin up a little further to convey their determination to protect Earth by whatever means possible.

O'Neill nodded, like he was seriously considering letting these people blow themselves up. "Good. That's good, but I don't think that's going to be necessary."

Rodney's relief was palpable. "Really?"

O'Neill nodded to Carter. She looked around the room before turning to John. He pointed to the spot where Rodney stood.

"Okay, McKay, we found a fully charged ZPM."

Rodney took a step back, a smile breaking out on his face. "You have a ZedPM?"

"A team of archeologists found it in Egypt. Can you believe that? It was just there inside one of the pyramids, under our noses all this time."

Rodney started to pace back and forth. "But how do you get it here? If you use it to dial Atlantis, then you can't bring it through."

John dutifully repeated his questions, not sure when he'd lost the thread of the conversation, but he knew it was all important.

"Got it covered, McKay," O'Neill said. "We have this brand new spaceship all ready to go. We were going to send it looking for you guys anyway, it'll just get there a little sooner."

"If we use the ZPM to power the engines we can be there inside of four days, McKay." Carter said.

Rodney's whole body just crumpled. He didn't fall or anything, he just folded in on himself. "No, that's too long. The Wraith are going to be here in hours, not days."

"We have another ZPM," Jackson interjected quietly.

"The chair in Antarctica," Rodney shouted.

"Daniel, we can't use that ZPM, what if the Ori attack Earth while it's gone?" Carter objected.

"We can only worry about one planetary emergency at a time," the general said. John thought that was it. The people in Atlantis were dead. He felt hollow at losing something he'd never even had.

"Atlantis needs us right now." O'Neill declared, standing.

John and Rodney both turned to him.

"Sir?" John asked.

"We can use the ZPM that powers the Antarctica facility to send reinforcements and the Egyptian ZPM to Atlantis. Then we can let the Daedalus use it to get them to the Pegasus Galaxy in time to support our people. If they're successful, McKay can send it back through the wormhole. If they're not, well, the Daedalus will be returning anyway and we'll only be without the ZPM for a couple of weeks. Things have been quiet with the Ori lately."

"Jack," Daniel began.

"We don't leave our people behind, Daniel," O'Neill spat at him.

"I know that, Jack, I was just going to ask if I could go with the support team." There was longing on Jackson's face.

"Daniel, we've talked about this before. I need you here."

Jackson's mouth was pressed into a thin, straight line. He definitely wasn't happy, but he didn't argue with the general.

"You know what would be really useful?" Rodney said. "Someone with a strong expression of the ATA gene.

John repeated Rodney's words for the general. He didn't really understand what Rodney was asking until he realized that they were all staring at him expectantly, and not just because he was translating for Rodney.

"Sir?" he asked hesitantly. There was a small smile curling Sam Carter's lips, Jackson looked positively jealous. And Teal'c… Well, the big man stood at the door, his face impassive, but he radiated approval.

"I can't order you to go, Sheppard, you're a civilian now," O'Neill began.

John swallowed. He wanted to go, more than he'd wanted anything in a long time, but… "I'm not sure how much good I'd be." He hit his leg with a clenched fist. He'd finally met someone, sort of, found a place he wanted to go, something he wanted to do, and he couldn't because of his leg.

Rodney didn't speak, he just smirked at John.

O'Neill raised a questioning brow in Carter's direction.

She nodded. "My dad is visiting right now. I'll see if I can track him down."

O'Neill turned to John. He considered John for a moment before he said, "What if I said we could take care of that?"

John's good mood had long since vanished. "Pardon me, sir, but the best doctors the United States Air Force have says that my leg is as good as it's ever going to get." He swallowed down the bitterness of losing, yet again, something that he wanted. "I think we're done here."

He didn't look at McKay as he turned and limped to the door.

"Sheppard," he heard Rodney call after him, but he didn't turn around, he just kept going. Now that he was thinking about it, his leg ached with all the unexpected use. His headache had returned in full force, too. All he wanted was to make it somewhere private before he threw up.

He'd forgotten that he had his own personal hallucination to haunt his footsteps however.

"Would you stop, Sheppard?" Rodney appeared in front of him, fists planted on his hips, his eyes flashing.

John was startled, not expecting Rodney in front of him. He crashed into the wall, bouncing off it. He put all of his weight onto his bad leg which chose that moment to fold under him. He ended up on his ass in front of Rodney again.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"You okay?" Rodney knelt down next to him, his hands outstretched anxiously.

John took a shuddering breath and shoved himself away from Rodney. "I did what you asked. You're getting help. Can you just leave me the hell alone?" He felt so helpless. He wanted Atlantis and Rodney, but he was a cripple. He would only be a detriment to them. He leaned back against the wall, letting his eyes fall shut. He hoped that McKay would get bored and go away.

There was silence for so long that John thought that must have been what happened. He had gone down a hallway that it seemed no one used, so he wasn't bothered. He'd almost drifted into an uneasy sleep when a strident voice jerked him back to wakefulness.

"Done with your pity party yet?"

John's eyes jerked open. He found Rodney sitting next to him, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry that it's not convenient for you, McKay," John spat at him. He'd done everything Rodney had asked of him, and now he was done. "But my leg is never getting better and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it."

Rodney frowned at him, "Sheppard, Atlantis needs you… I need you. I wish there was more time so you could freak out, but there's not. So," Rodney took a deep breath, "I'm in another galaxy and the people I care about are dying. Now you can make things better for us. I really need you here." His frown softened, and he mostly just looked unhappy. "I know this sucks, but I really do think there's a way to fix it. Will you trust me?"

God, John wanted to. But he'd trusted people before – his father, Nancy, the Air Force, and none of those times had ended well. It was hard to trust one more time. He looked into Rodney's eyes; saw the pain and the hope. He remembered what it felt like to lose friends and people you loved. He didn't want that for Rodney.

At last he nodded, "Yeah, I can trust you," John said, his voice a bare whisper.

Rodney broke out in a smile; it filled John with warmth. "Well, then, what are you waiting for. Let's get going."

John glanced away, a little embarrassed. "Uhm, Rodney. I'm afraid I can't get up." His leg had stiffened from all the extra use. There was no way, short of a crane, that he was going anywhere.

"Hey, somebody down here need a hand?" a voice called. John looked up to see a man striding down the hall toward him. Dressed in the ubiquitous BDUs that everyone in the SGC wore, it was hard to tell who he was. There was no name on his clothes, but he was older, balding.

The man stopped when he reached the spot where John was sitting. He offered a hand.

"Thanks," John said a little gruffly. He hated admitting to weakness. But he reached out and took the offered hand.

The man grasped his hand firmly and, bracing himself, reached out with other hand to pull John up. He was strong. Despite the fact that John thought he wasn't going anywhere, the man had him on his feet in short order.

"Jacob Carter," he said by way of introduction.

"You're Carter's father?" John asked tentatively. This was the man that O'Neill thought could fix his leg, he didn't look much like a doctor, but what did John know?

The man grinned at him, "That's one of my claims to fame. Let's get you to the infirmary and see what we can do about that leg, shall we?" He put a hand on John's shoulder to steer him.

John paused to look back at Rodney. "See you later?" he asked.

Rodney grinned at him, bouncing up, "You can count on it," he promised. He turned and disappeared like he'd gone around a corner.

( Taking the B Train - Part 2 of 2 )