Confused and stung, Rodney sat back on his heels. "Yeah, that must be it. Because there's no way in hell I might actually be worried about you, right?"

A wind was picking up outside. He could hear it whistling through the cave mouth.

"Worried." John laughed hollowly, his voice still muffled in his knees. "About someone who just left two young scientists splattered all over your laboratory floor? Don't bullshit me, Rodney. Whatever or whoever you're here for, it's not me."

"Have it your way, then." Rodney made as if to stand back up. "I'll just go back to Atlantis and tell Elizabeth I couldn't locate you. And you can stay here and starve to death while you beat up on yourself for doing something that wasn't even your fault."

A hand suddenly clamped down on his wrist. John had finally raised his eyes—free of shadow, but bleak nonetheless—to meet Rodney's. "What do you know about that?"

Rodney sat back down, but John's grip didn't lessen. "I know that whenever you use that sword, your eyes turn black," he said flatly. "Even when you talk about it, sometimes they seem a little darker. And I know you'd never have killed Braun and Hamilton, not of your own volition."

"Convenient little giveaway there, that eye thing." John nodded slowly and finally let go of Rodney's wrist. He stared at his hand for a moment as if he'd never seen it before, and then let it fall to his lap. "Thanks for your concern." There was silence for a few seconds. "So do you have a plan, or what?"

"Do I need one?" Rodney glanced over at the sword handle, almost expecting it to be moving of its own accord. "All we have to do is go back to Atlantis and leave it behind."

"No!" John suddenly sat up straight, a cloud passing momentarily over his eyes. It passed as quickly as it came, and he slumped back against the wall. "I mean . . . c'mon. Look out there."

Rodney looked and suddenly realized that the wind had risen to a howl while he'd stopped paying attention to it. The air was so dense now with flying sand that there was no way they could even leave the cave. "You'd think the damn sword had planned this," he muttered without thinking, and then realized what he'd just said. "John—"

"Who knows?" John shrugged dully. "God only knows what else that thing can do."

"I hope we never get the chance to find out." Rodney slid his pack down from his shoulders, and it hit the ground with a dull thud, making them both jump. He shook himself slightly. "Well, if we can't get anywhere, at least it can't either."

"What the hell difference does that make?" John demanded. "You're flesh and blood too—or had you forgotten that for once?"

His voice was so harsh that Rodney whipped around to stare at him, momentarily convinced that it was the sword talking and not John. Their eyes met again, and this time John held Rodney's gaze with an almost frightening intensity that was nonetheless entirely his own. Rodney worked his jaw, but it was several seconds before he could force any sound to come out. "I know," he said at last, thinking again of Braun and Hamilton. "I knew that when I stepped through the Gate to come here."

-----

Gone after Major Sheppard. Get Dr. Lynch to find out more about the sword.

--- McKay

A forwarding address would've been nice . . .

Wondering whether matters could get any worse if they tried, Elizabeth looked back up from the note to look at the younger woman on the other side of the desk, one Dr. Jordan, who looked on the verge of tears. She had been the third member of the team that had discovered the room—had it been only yesterday morning? "I told them," Dr. Jordan was saying frantically. "I told them it was a stupid idea, that they had no business breaking into Dr. McKay's lab and they were going to get in trouble. But not like this."

"It's not your fault," Elizabeth assured her instinctively. "There was no way of knowing something like this would happen."

Dr. Jordan nodded weakly. "Thank you."

"You can go now. Please send Dr. Lynch in," Elizabeth called after her. "She should be waiting outside"

Dr. Lynch, the head of Atlantis's archaeology team, was closer to Elizabeth's age than Dr. Jordan and seemed more composed as well. Elizabeth thanked the heavens; she'd had more than enough panic and confusion for one night.

(No doubt she'd break down eventually, of course—but later, in private. This would be the worst possible time to show weakness.)

"Dr. Weir, you wanted my help?" Dr. Lynch asked, breaking Elizabeth's train of thought.

"Yes, I did." Elizabeth shoved her mind back into order, leaned forward, and explained.

When she'd finished, Dr. Lynch looked grimmer than ever. "I'll see what I can do. The Ancients obviously wanted to keep this thing secure. It's highly likely they've left some information about it somewhere."

"Then find it," Elizabeth said shortly, and waved her out of the room as well.

Gone after Major Sheppard . . .

What had those two gotten themselves into this time? Elizabeth wondered, and heaved a sigh. Whatever it was, she had no doubt Rodney knew what he was doing as far as getting them out of it went. She just hoped he knew rightly.

Yet another knock sounded at the door, and she looked up wearily to see that she'd been joined by the less wayward half of her offworld team, probably with the expected words of reassurance. But, looking up at Teyla and Ford, she saw only the worry that was no doubt written all over her own face.

They were scared too.

-----

Rodney had finally convinced John, who had looked ready to fall over in any case, to get some sleep, arguing that it might well be safer for both of them and offering his jacket—it was too damn hot there in any case—in lieu of a pillow. So John was now asleep in a corner, curled into an instinctively defensive ball even in repose. The jacket was scrunched under his head, and he'd clenched one fist down on it so tightly Rodney was amazed it didn't tear.

And Rodney was still seated on the cave floor, staring fixedly at the handle of what was surely (hopefully) the universe's only sentient sword and wondering what to do about it. It took all too little effort to imagine that it was watching him as well. Probably wondering how to get rid of him, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Anyone know anything about fixing computers? My CD drive still works—when I click Play, the timer starts going—and the speakers still work, since I can play sound files from the hard drive. However, they don't seem be working together; I can no longer hear the CDs when they play, which is hugely inconvenient since I can't write for beans without music playing. (I wrote this chapter on a borrowed laptop.) Anyone know what to do about this?