AN: Unlike Milo, I'm a terrible translator. Therefore, some Atlantean spoken appears translated to English in these (()). I do apologize for not saying this before, but this could be considered an "alternate universe" type fic because Atlantis is still submerged. I started tinkering with this story before I saw the sequel, and I have almost all of it planned out, and certain plot points call for it still being submerged.

Please don't sue me for the Beatles references.


The rest of the day had been uneventful, which was perfect for Claire and Dean, who wanted nothing more than rest and relaxation. A little bit of sunbathing, a dip in the pool, a little more sunbathing, another dip in the pool, sans bathing suits. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect, like the calm before a storm.

A nagging feeling crept into Claire's mind, but she tried to brush it off and instead focused on Dean's soft snoring. But even his rhythmic breathing couldn't help her drift off to sleep. She tried to blame her insomnia on the uncomfortable bed, then she tried to blame it on the bright numbers of the digital clock, and then she tried to blame it on the disgusting seafood she had for dinner, (she still wasn't quite sure what creature of the deep that chewy monstrosity had been). When she ran out of things to blame, she carefully wiggled out of Dean's muscular arms and sat up.

"I can't take it anymore." She climbed out of the bed, ignoring the protests from Austin who had been sleeping on her feet, and quickly got dressed in the dark. The summons kept calling her, willing her outside. With her usual temper and consideration for others, she flung open the cabin door and then slammed it as hard as she could.

Dean bolted up and turned on a lamp and grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table. Looking around frantically, he cried out, "Where's Claire?"

A very annoyed Austin bathed his shoulder. "Oh, she went out for an evening stroll."

"You don't think, out in the middle of the ocean, that she—"

"Bingo."

The calm was gone and the storm had moved in. The immense waves rocked the ship violently and lightning streaked across the night sky. Rain poured by the bucketful, making the deck slick. Claire clung onto the ship's rails, her knuckles white with the effort. Water splashed across her face, making her sputter. "I'm on vacation, damn it!"

Dean ran out of the cabin, his boots barely keeping traction on the slippery floor. Much more gracefully, Austin dashed out behind him. Claire looked back at them. "Go inside!" she yelled over the wind.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not leaving you." He stared down into the tumultuous sea. "Where exactly do they expect you to go?"

"I don't know. And I'm not going!" She stamped a foot to emphasize her point.

The water suddenly began to bubble and froth and something began to ascend to the surface. The top of a little submarine broke the surface of the water. With some clicks and whirrs, the top hatch opened, inviting them inside.

"You've got to be kidding me," breathed Claire.

"It's yellow," said Dean. After a moment's pause of reflection, he added, "The Powers that Be have great taste in music."

"I don't care if George, John, Paul, and Ringo are in it; I'm not—" Before she could finish the remark, the luxury liner leaned towards the waiting vessel, tossing the cat, the Keeper, and the handyman into it. With grunts and groans, the three landed on the floor of the small submersible and looked back up just in time to see the hatch slam shut. They were plunged into total darkness for a moment, and then a dim light came on and a cheery voice with a Liverpool accent said: "'ullo, mates. Welcome aboard the S.S. Possibilities. There is no eating, drinking, smoking, or flash photography."

"You cheated," spat Claire, folding her arms across her chest and pouting.

"No," said the voice, "you weren't doing your job. We had to be a little more… persuasive."

"I'm taking a vacation."

"But evil never takes a vacation, Miss Hansen, which is why you were summoned. So, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride." The little yellow sub dove into the depths and the storm cleared away, as if swept off the sky by a giant hand.


It was three hours of silence later when Dean asked the question on everyone's mind. "Where is it taking us?"

"More importantly," said Austin, "does where we're going have food?"

Claire peered out a side porthole. All she could see were darkness, rocks, and the occasional jellyfish. She was starting to get a little claustrophobic in the cramped space. Not to mention cranky. Looking down she saw twisted shadows and hulking shapes covering the sea bottom, illuminated only slightly by the sub's beam. Peering at them, she realized they were sunken ships.

Hundreds of sunken ships, all from different time periods. Modest little boats, extravagant liners, foreboding pirate ships, and everything in-between, lay tattered and strewn across the ocean floor.

Austin jumped onto her shoulder and followed her gaze. "I don't like this," he said. "Where there's sunken ships, there's a sea monster."

Dean's dark eyes widened in fear behind his lenses. "Sea monsters?"

"Don't be silly," said Claire with a snort. "There's no such thing as—" She and Austin were thrown into Dean as the sub suddenly lurched. Alarms sounded off and the interior was flooded with a crimson light. "What the hell happened?"

Loud creaks and groans answered her as the submarine was thrust forward and pulled towards what she guessed was the face of a giant beast. The mammoth gray lobster held the sub in one claw and examined it with a bright red eye. Each movement it made released an ancient metallic moan.

"It's-it's mechanical!" cried Dean as he stared transfixed at the Leviathan.

"Great, now I know I'm going to be eaten by scrap metal," snapped Austin.

"No one's getting eaten!" shouted Claire. "Does this thing have any weapons?"

The sub's "voice" came back. "Sorry, Keeper, but I make love not war."

Somewhere around the center of the monster's face, a blue light began to spark.

"Claire," whimpered Dean, "that can't be good. I think he's powering up for something. Claire!"

Her eyes were shut tight in concentration and sweat formed on her wrinkled brow. Please, she thought, somewhere where we won't die! You drug us down here, now take—

The cobalt beam of energy surged from the Leviathan and crackled around the yellow vessel until it burst. The remains fell to the floor to join the cemetery of lost ships.


"TABTOAP!"

Milo Thatch groaned softly and opened his eyes. This was the third night in a row she had woken them out of a sound sleep. He lay on his side, too tired to move.

"Well," Kida said groggily as she sat up, "are you going to see what is wrong?"

"It's your turn. I dealt with the last nightmare she had."

"TABTOAP!" came a second shrill cry.

Kida pushed several white bangs out of her blue eyes, the crystal around her neck illuminating her face. "Did you hear that?" asked the Queen slowly, almost as if she was explaining something complex to a small child. "She asked for 'Tabtoap', not 'Matihm'. Therefore, she needs Tabtoap." Case successfully argued she flopped down onto her side, taking a large amount of Milo's part of the blanket with her.

"Can't argue with that logic," muttered Milo as he groped the bedside tabletop for his glasses. The wiry scholar stood up with a yawn and put a robe on over his nightclothes. He winced as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor, and then plodded on, his crystal lighting the way to his bedroom door. Before stepping out, he smiled and said playfully, "I'm off to fight monsters, I could really use some help."

"A king can battle a few monsters on his own," Kida replied teasingly.

Still smiling, Milo briskly walked to his daughter's bedchamber, wondering what boogeyman he would have to scare out this time. He slowly pushed open the door and stepped into Lucille's room.

Princess Lucille, who was named after Milo's mother, was, in most respects, like most other five-year-olds. She played with the other young children in the city, she was energetic and loved to explore, and always asked her father every night to "read just one more story?" (which he gave into every time), and she had the occasional nighttime fears. But lately, the nightmares and the monster scares were much more frequent. Her parents hoped it was some sort of phase she was going through, but some of the things she would say that occurred in her dreams were a little disquieting…

Her round face alit with the azure glow of her necklace, Lucille turned to face her father with wide, fearful eyes. The right eye was blue, like the eyes of all Atlanteans, and her left eye was dark brown, like her father's eyes. Long, white hair, messy from sleep, stuck out in multiple directions.

((Monsters!)) she said. ((In my closet!))

Milo smiled. ((Well, your big, strong dad will just have to beat up those monsters, won't he?)) He grabbed a lamp, a long staff with a balloon like container dangling from the top of it that contained fireflies, and walked over to her closet. Tapping the door with the staff, he called out, ((Monsters, if you don't leave my little girl alone, I'm going to have to come in there and…)) He flung the door open. The rest of the threat stopped in his throat as he came face to face with a woman who seemed to be about as surprised as he did.

"Uh, hi?" ventured Claire.