Rescue

Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM; Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.

Atlantis, Pegasus Galaxy, 0900 hours

The city exploded.

Time and place unknown

His day, Rodney McKay had decided, could not get any worse.

It just wasn't possible. Certain death was bad enough, but actual death—the cessation of existence, the loss of his mind and all it could still contribute—was about as bad as it got.

Or so Rodney had thought.

Because he had been dead. He wasn't able to stop the bomb the Asurans had planted in time. It was, ironically, one instance in which he hadn't panicked. Rodney knew their code inside and out. He probably knew it better than they did, if he did say so himself. When they'd found the bomb, and then when they'd been locked out of their own computer systems, and then when they'd found out that the only way to disable the bomb lay somewhere within the extensive Ancient database, Rodney still hadn't panicked.

That was a little odd, he thought now. All he could remember was a deep sense of calm settling over him as he worked away at the problem. And even at the end, when the counter had ticked resolutely to zero, he still hadn't felt anything like fear.

Rodney didn't believe in premonitions, and he knew he wouldn't have gone to an explodey death quietly. Not him.

But neither did he believe in the afterlife, and yet here he was, awake and conscious and inside one of the strangest-looking rooms he had ever seen.

The room had an organic feel to it that for one moment reminded him of a Wraith ship—and of course he would be rescued from an exploding Atlantis by a Wraith ship, because that was his life—but then his eyes focused a little more and he could see that the room was much brighter than the Wraith tended to keep their ships. There was also a distinct lack of fog, and forked columns all around him that seemed to be made of some kind of coral.

And, he realized as he sat up and a shooting pain shot through his back, he had been laying on a grated floor. A hard, cold grated floor.

“Oh! You're awake. Brilliant! Hello.”

Rodney jumped and somehow managed to end up facing the other direction while remaining in a sitting position. His back throbbed in protest, but Rodney's attention was focused on the man who had just appeared—or had he been there the whole time?--behind him. Tall and thin, his pale face dominated by large dark eyes that looked far older than his wild hair and exuberant grin suggested, the man looked normal and utterly deranged at the same time.

Rodney blinked. “Who are you?”

“Ah, well, that's a bit of a long story,” said the man, the grin never slipping from his face. “You can call me the Doctor.”

Rodney regarded the man suspiciously while he struggled to his feet. As much as it pained his back to do so, he wasn't willing to spend the entire conversation sitting on his ass in this . . .place. Now that he was standing he could see that he was in what looked like some kind of control room, in the middle of which stood a circular console wrapped around a central column. Something within the greenish column was moving up and down. All around him he could hear soft sighing and groaning sounds.

“Rodney McKay,” he said, turning his attention back to the other man. “Also a doctor. Of astrophysics. How did I get here? Where is here, anyway?” He gripped a nearby railing as suddenly everything came rushing back. “Atlantis! I have to get back there! I thought it . . .” He trailed off and swallowed. The city had exploded. He hadn't gotten to the bomb in time. He and everyone else was dead. Sheppard and Teyla and Ronon and Zelenka and Woolsey and, oh god, Jennifer. As the litany of names, of friends, flashed through his head he closed his eyes and gripped the railing so hard that it hurt.

When he opened his eyes the Doctor was staring at him, his own eyes full of concern. It irritated Rodney, so he channeled his despair into something he was good at: anger. “Tell me where I am!” he yelled, waving his hands toward the Doctor. “Tell me what happened! The people on Atlantis, are they--” He couldn't say it out loud yet. “I need to get back!” He needed to see.

“I'm working on it, trust me,” said the Doctor, the former exuberance gone from his voice. Then the manic grin flashed across his face again. “In the meantime, isn't this fun? I've always wanted to meet you!” “Fun?” said Rodney in disbelief. “What kind of sick definition of fun are you using?” Then the rest of the Doctor's words sunk in. “Wait, meet me? You know me?”

The Doctor waved a hand through the air. “Oh, I've heard of you. Rodney McKay, the scientist of Atlantis. Your story is legendary.”

Despite himself, Rodney preened. “Well, it is true that everyone would be dead a thousand times over if I wasn't--” But that reminded him that everyone was dead, so he stopped that train of thought. “Tell me what happened,” he said again.

“Something bad,” said the Doctor grimly. He had gone over to the console and was looking at something on an attached screen.

“Yeah, there was a bomb,” said Rodney. “And then it exploded, because that's what bombs do if you don't deactivate them. I'd call that pretty bad!”

“Even worse,” said the Doctor, “it wasn't supposed to happen.”

“Of course it wasn't supposed to happen!” shouted Rodney. “It was...I was...I should have stopped it. I had it, I was able to crack their code, but...it was too late.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“That wasn't what I mean,” said the Doctor, but all of his concentration was on the monitor, like he had forgotten Rodney was even there. Curiosity getting the better of him, Rodney walked around the console so that he could see the screen, too. To his disappointment, he couldn't read it. The screen was full of interlocking shapes and symbols rotating around each other. Rodney had seen a fair few alien languages in his time, but nothing like this.

“Are we on a ship?” he asked, eying the central column.

“Yes!” said the Doctor, turning to face Rodney with a little hop. “My ship. The TARDIS.”

“The TARDIS,” Rodney repeated slowly.

“Best ship in the universe,” said the Doctor. “And right now--” he gave the console a smack with the side of his fist-- “I am trying to get us back so that I can figure out what went wrong with history.”

“What went wrong--” Rodney shook his head. “Back to Atlantis?”

“Atlantis, Pegasus Galaxy, about twelve hours before I rescued you from the explosion,” the Doctor confirmed.

“This is a time machine?” Rodney squeaked. There was only one alien race Rodney knew of that had come close to perfecting time travel. “Are you an Ancient?” This ship didn't look like the right design, and the language was certainly nothing Rodney had ever seen, but this wouldn't be the first time he had come across rogue Ancients on spaceships. If this really was a time machine, maybe he had come from the past, from before the Ancients had all died or ascended.

“Ah, no, not even close,” said the Doctor. “Though we did have some trouble with them a few thousand years ago. Developed some primitive time travel themselves, very nasty business. Then they all went and ascended, just poof! Off to another plane of existence, we'll just leave you lot to clean up the mess.” He shook his head.

Rodney stared at him. “Who are you?”

“Like I said, long story,” said the Doctor. He pushed a button on the console and straightened. “Now, Rodney McKay, second most brilliant mind in two galaxies, let's see about that little problem on Atlantis.” He shoved a lever all the way up, and the whole room lurched as the center column let out a shrieking groan. Rodney fell against the console and held on as well as he could, trying not to inadvertently push any buttons.

“Only second?” he said as the ship bucked again.

“Well, I'm here, aren't I?” said the Doctor, clutching the console just as hard as Rodney.

Rodney was about to argue, because he didn't even know this guy, and no one had the right to call themselves a more brilliant mind than Rodney McKay until Rodney himself had made that assessment. But then, suddenly, the trip was over. With a final lurch, the wheezing came to a stop, the central column stilling. The Doctor bounded toward the door—a plain wooden door, Rodney now saw, and was that a telephone attached to it?--grabbing a long brown coat that had been slung over one of the coral columns and slipping it on in one liquid move. “Well?” he asked, looking back at Rodney. “Are you coming? This is your city I'm trying to save, you know.”

Rodney stood on shaky legs, extracting his fingers from their death hold on the console. “What, we're here? Just like that

?” “Yep,” said the Doctor, popping the “p” loudly. “Directly off the east pier, by my calculation.”

“But.” Rodney searched for words. “You can't just land in the middle of Atlantis! Someone will see us. They'll detect us on the sensors.” Rodney wasn't an idiot. Far from it, actually. Any moron knew you couldn't risk a paradox when it came to time travel. He could just see it now: his whole past unraveling, his memories changing, all because this insane man couldn't even bother to take the proper precautions.

“Nah, they won't even know we're here,” said the Doctor airily. He opened the door, stepped out, stopped, and said, “Oh.”

“What?” said Rodney. “What did you do?” This had to be the most frustrating day of his life. First he had died, and now he was stuck trailing after No Name McCrazy over there, asking idiot questions like he was some kind of . . . oh god, sidekick.

“I am not Robin, and you are not Batman,” he muttered as he trudged over to the door to see what was wrong now.

If the Doctor found that statement odd, he didn't remark on it. Instead, he said, “Looks like my calculations were a teensy bit off.”

“A teensy bit off?” Rodney repeated, his voice going shrill as he stepped out of the ship and saw what had happened.

They weren't on the east pier. They were in the central tower, right in the gate room, and a dozen marines were pointing assault weapons at their heads. It was night in Atlantis, with only a skeleton crew manning the gate room.

“Well, when you take into account that I was working with the whole universe, yes, just a teensy bit off,” said the Doctor. His hands were raised above his head. He gave the marines a grin. “It's rather impressive, actually. Hello! I'm the Doctor.”

Sheppard jogged into the room, his weapon at the ready, but as soon as he saw Rodney he lowered his gun and waved at the marines to stand down. “McKay?” he said, wrinkling his forehead in confusion. “Didn't I just leave you in your lab?” His gaze landed on something behind Rodney. “What is that?”

Rodney turned around to take in the outside of the TARDIS for the first time. His mouth fell open.

“It's a police box,” said the Doctor cheerfully, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Seriously, no words.

“Rodney,” said Sheppard in that voice. “What's going on?”

The Doctor clapped his hands together. “But questions can wait!” he said brightly. “We have a city to save.”

In that, the Doctor was right. They did have a city to save. And then, once Rodney had saved everyone's life for the five thousandth time, he and the Doctor were going to have a long talk. Until then . . .

“Well, what are you all staring at?” Rodney snapped. “There's a bomb in the city. Someone get me a computer!”

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