Back on Earth, New Year's Eve was always one of my favorite occasions–the excitement, the merriment, the promise of a new year, new opportunities, a bright future. This year though, millions of light years away from the blithe familiarity of the Milky Way, I wasn't quite so excited. In fact, I was lonely, and, oddly enough, alone.

Alone time on Atlantis is rare–there are always people milling about, patrolling or working at all hours of the day or night. Atlantis is a large city but we stay to a relatively small section. The only time anyone is truly alone is in one's own quarters, and one has only to stick one's head out the door to find a soldier strolling the hallways. Many of us actually avoid being alone–although Atlantis is, for all practical purposes, home, it is still an intimidating presence; I often associate it with the austere grandeur of an empty cathedral–oddly comforting and cold at the same time. The presence of another person can diffuse the coldness.

But tonite, I wandered the corridors of Atlantis alone. There was an impromptu party going on in the Gate room (I strongly disapproved of the location but the crew had ganged up on me and argued that it was the only place that would fit everyone and could be rigged with a suitable sound system); it was a little something John had whipped up last minute, but I did not want to attend. He had been pestering me about making an appearance but I didn't think I'd make very good company tonite. On the odd occasion that I slowed down enough to feel lonely, it only made me want to be alone. The feeling never lasted long, but I felt strangely embarrassed that here I was, on perhaps the greatest adventure of all time, and all I could think about were the things I was missing. I missed the comforts and the certainty of Earth: my friends, my family, my dog, even the silly things like the market, shoe shopping, a Target store. What I would give some days for Burger King fries!

Maybe I was being silly; I'm sure everyone in Atlantis had at one point or another felt this way, but as the leader of the expedition, I felt the responsibility to keep my Achilles' Heel a secret.

With a sigh, I stopped by one of the many windows in the city and stared out at the inky horizon where even the lights of Atlantis didn't reach. I could hear the faint beat of bass wafting towards me, and although the immense structure of the city shielded it, I imagined I could feel the pulse as well. Where John had rustled up techno dance music was beyond me, and honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I listened to it with vague interest, trying to guess the tune, not like I kept up-to-date on what was played in the clubs. While I listened, I watched the lights from one of the far piers as it illuminated the waves. They flickered and gleamed on the crests; they had a hypnotic effect, like a campfire. It momentarily pushed away my loneliness but only until I reminded myself that, as much as I loathed to do it, I really should make an appearance at John's "shindig" (his words, not mine). I'd long ago grown accustomed to the fact that being a diplomat meant I had to do things I didn't want to. Dance parties currently fell under that classification.

With great reluctance I pushed away from the window and wound my way down to the Gate room. Only a skeleton crew was working tonite–manning the controls, patrolling the halls. As I smiled at one of the men on duty, I could hear the sound of laughter accenting the beat. It thawed my mood a little, knowing that this break was good for everyone.

I wandered into the control room and out onto the balcony overlooking the Gate. I leaned on the top railing, placing my foot on the bottom rung for better leverage and surveyed the mob below. It looked like everyone was here, but the first person I saw was John.

He was in the middle of the fray, clad in a pair of jeans and his black t-shirt, bouncing to the beat. His mode of dancing (if that was really what it was–the jury was still out on that) reminded me of a swimmer's warm-ups. He was bopping up and down as though loosening up his limbs for the 100m freestyle. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. I could see that his eyes were half-lidded, seemingly absorbed in the music, but he grinned across the room at Teyla and Rodney. They stood near the steps, partaking in the beverage our Athosian guests had brought with them. Teyla grinned back at John before leaning over to say something to Rodney who smirked contentedly.

I also saw Carson and Lt. Cadman in the mix, dancing together much slower then the music warranted. They seemed more interested in talking then dancing, anyway. And then there was Zelenka...he was dancing with a pretty female scientist, his "conquest of the week" ( Rodney's words, not mine). Well, "with" was a relative term; the way he was popping and locking didn't leave a lot of room for close contact, but she seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. It was impressive and more than a little surprising.

I walked over to the stairway and took a seat on the top step. Halling spotted me and nodded in his regal manner, a faint smile gracing his lips. A couple others in the crowd waved or called their greetings. Even John, in his pogo-stick mode, bounced a circle, grinned at me mid-jump, and returned to his original position. I had wanted to slip in unnoticed but it didn't look like that was working. I tried a smile on for size–it felt a little forced, but I doubted anyone would really notice.

"You look like someone just kicked your dog," a voice beside me said. Rodney sat down on the step next to me, handing me a drink.

"Thanks," I said, indicating the cup.

He smiled a little and looked out at the crowd. "Aren't parties supposed to make people cheerful?"

I raised my eyebrows at him but he didn't look at me. "You're asking me?"

He shrugged one shoulder and took a drink. "I was never one for the parties."

I wanted to ask him if that was because he didn't like parties or because he was never invited to them, but I had been too well trained to ask such an invasive question. Rodney was always a study. I was good at reading people, but he continually surprised me; I admitted I found a sort of perverse pleasure in trying to figure him out.

"So what's with the face?" he asked.

I threw him a look and he smirked. "Not that it isn't lovely, but you don't look thrilled to be here."

"I think you've had enough to drink," I remarked.

"I think you're avoiding the question," he replied.

I raised my eyebrows again and took a drink. It was strong and sweet. "It's just one of those days."

Rodney nodded and the look on his face made me think he understood. "Yeah, this place can do that to you."

"You, too?"

He smiled then, that crooked smile of his, real and contagious. He indicated the crowd with his cup. "All of us, at one point or another, I think."

I couldn't resist. "You think? You don't know?"

His smile widened. "Being an expert on people is your area, not mine. I'm an expert on everything else."

"Of course." I watched Zelenka for a moment, surrounded by all those gyrating scientists and soldiers. "Interesting group of people we have here."

"You're just realizing this now?"

I gave him a look to which he smirked. "Sorry. Yes, we do. That what you wanted to hear?"

I let the snarkiness slide. It was just him, and it was oddly comforting. "Yes, I suppose so."

John left his place on the dance floor as the song changed and took a seat just below us on the stairs.

"Hey," he said breathing hard. "Why aren't you guys dancing?"

"And take all the attention from Michael Jackson?" Rodney asked, pointing at Zelenka. "Not likely."

"Can't say I'm surprised," John said. "So really, what are you two doing over here?"

Rodney jerked his head at me. "It's one of those days."

"Ah," said John, and slouched against the wall. "So that's why you've been hiding." He smiled crookedly. "I don't blame you--that's what I always feel like doing when the mood hits." He smacked Rodney on the knee. "And why do you think McKay hides in his lab?"

"Hey," Rodney argued, rubbing his knee, "I'm hiding from the incompetency, nothing else."

John rolled his eyes at me.

"So you guys are mind-readers now, huh?" I asked, smiling fondly. I couldn't tell if it was the company or the Athosian brew that was lightening my mood. Or maybe the knowledge that my crew understood my stoicism, maybe better then I did.

"Nah," said John, "just know the feeling."

Rodney drained his cup then said, "One thing has been bugging me, though."

"Yes?"

"Where did a Czech engineer learn to pop and lock like that?"

John pointed at Rodney excitedly. "The same thing has been bothering me, along with where you learned the term 'pop and lock'?"

"Hey, believe it or not, I was an unfortunate child of the 80's. As much as I try to suppress those memories..."

"Then why aren't you out there busting a move?" John challenged with an impish grin.

"'Busting a move'?" Rodney scorned. "What are you, twelve?" He smirked. "And I doubt my meager dancing skills would live up to those of the human pogo stick."

"Me?"

"If the mutant kangaroo genes fit..."

"Gentlemen," I said with a soft smile. They squabbled like siblings, an odd couple if there ever was one.

"Sorry," John said.

Rodney echoed the apology grudgingly before he nudged my shoulder with his own. "Feel better?" he asked softly.

I smiled crookedly. "Oddly enough, I do. Thanks."

"Anytime," John answered for him. He stood up and stretched. "I'm ready for Round 2. Anyone else?"

Rodney looked at me and held out his hand with a sort of shy gallantry. "Elizabeth?"

I stared at him for a moment. He was a mystery. So were they all, but one I enjoyed being a part of. "I'd be delighted."

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A/N: This was totally inspired by lovely image of John Sheppard dancing that just popped into my head. It morphed into this. I hope everyone saw the episode tonite--it was excellent--love the Sheyla action:) Cheers!