The writing wasn't telling him a damn thing about the power source that operated the station.

Of course.

McKay winced as he pried at the panel. To hell with the ancient scroll. That was all well and good for someone who's ass was glued to a chair while their eyes were stuck to history books, but did little for someone in dire need of rescue, and seeing as how Major Sheppard was useless, he had to rely on his own devices, as usual. Rodney McKay, godhead.

His fingers slipped as he tried to pull the panel open. It took several more attempts, and a good whack on the corner before he was able to spot a thin cable within the wall. His eyes widened in excitement. "Hello! Chalk one up for the McKayster." He grinned and carefully touched the cable, half expecting an electrical shock. He even flinched. There was no shock. Light brows drew over curious eyes, and he reached into his vest pocket for a tiny penknife and a pair of rubber gloves.

After pulling on the gloves, he inserted the blade behind the panel, and with careful precision, slit the cable open. He winced as it snapped apart, and froze, waiting for something absolutely traumatic to happen. Nothing did, but the cable dimmed a little. He noticed a droplet on his finger and backed away, angling the digit in the light, noting the greenish luminescence, like those neon tubes he liked to buy around Halloween.

The fluid was tacky, stringing thinly between his fingertips. He shook his hand and leaned in again, sampling more, noticing how it thickly ran from the line, almost like blood. In fact, it was starting to clot slightly. Interesting. . .he pulled at the panel once more in order to study the intricate network of what looked like thin hoses, all housing the liquid. A frown creased his forehead, and he slowly backed away. "Wait." He spoke to the air, because a theory suddenly formed in his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked it. But he needed to hear a sound other than his rapid breathing. He hurried back to the room down the hall, where John had been staring at the console which had gone black.

John turned to see Rodney snapping off his gloves and throwing them aside. "We need this up and running, now."

"You're the mastermind." John stepped away and graciously gestured to the floor. Rodney crawled underneath the console with no argument, which clued John in. "You find something?"

"Maybe. Let me know when this starts up, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll look for the little dancing men on the screen." John sat in the chair and folded his arms, to McKay's chagrin.

"Don't get too comfortable," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm not the one trying to make house in an unknown station with an imaginary girl."

"I'm telling you," McKay grunted and pulled at a chunk of wire, "she's real." He wriggled and looked up at Sheppard from underneath the console. "Try it now."

Sheppard stood directly above him, and tapped the glowing panels. "Nothing. Like your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend"

"Because she's all in your head."

"Dammit, if I were to make up a girl, and I'm not saying I ever have, do you honestly think I'd do it now?"

"Sure." John's finger was on his lips as he concentrated; he talked around it. "Some kind of defense mechanism, to help protect you against the dark arts."

"Help. . .what?"

"I mean, I think this place is getting to you, and you're finding comfort where you can."

"Oh, that's. . .I'm not even going to bother wasting my valuable energy and mental capacity on such an idiotic observation." He was half hidden underneath the console again, plucking at wires. He had discovered that there was little use trying to convince Major Sheppard of anything; like McKay, he took things at face value, and his belief system had a tendency to run on his terms only. He wasn't ready to give in to a fact until he saw it with his own eyes, with merits proven. In that way he was very much like Rodney. And despite what Rodney said, John wasn't ready to dismiss the fact that Ford and Teyla were somewhere on the station, any more than he was ready to accept the fact that there was another being around. So, unable to pursue the conversation further without proof, McKay did the next best thing. "What is that smell. . .did you wear clean socks?"

John had pushed the chair aside and was standing beside him. "I think so, what day is today?"

"What day is. . .oh my god. No wonder it smells like a diarrhetic rhino down here." He dug an elbow into John's boot as he shifted and scooted further underneath the console.

"I'm kidding, McKay. Of course I put on clean socks."

"Then you need to do something about your boots," came a muffled voice. "Do me a favor and take a few steps back, okay?"

"If I do that, I can't see the screen." And John punctuated his remark by instead stepping closer to Rodney, his left boot just touching the man's leg.

"What the. . .oh great, you had to. . .you ass. . .wait a minute – waitwait, okay, try now!"

"Bingo!" John leaned eagerly over the new display as Rodney popped up beside him. "Oh yeah baby, a whole new set of schematics."

"Okay, so, can you make any of this out?" Rodney squinted at the screen, but couldn't determine their location. In fact, the display looked worse than the others they had come across. Nothing but lines and angles that reminded him of the old Tron Atari game on high speed.

"If you're asking if I see a stargate, no. If you're asking if I see a power source. . ." Sheppard pointed to a dot on the screen, "yes."

"Really? Where? How far?" Rodney's mind held on to an image of Tron waiting to be beamed to the next playing level.

"Well, until I figure out where we are, I can't tell you."

"No, no, of course not." Rodney straightened. He exhaled loudly and talked to the room, needing to keep his thoughts going. "You suppose their transportation device would simply show up as a power source of some kind? I mean, the stargate on Atlantis is different from any we've seen, not to mention the mass quantity of energy the Ancients seem to possess. It would stand to reason that they may have a means of transportation other than a gate."

Sheppard slowly turned to face Rodney. "That has to be it. The way the energy is distributed in this place doesn't allow for a power source this huge to run it."

"Right, not like it is drawing from a central source, the city itself is the central source." His eyes locked with John's. "My god. I think we're onto something here."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm – pleased!"

"So do I get a chocolate bar for this one?"

"Forget it, I've only got two left." Rodney leaned in and punched at the lit tabs. "Okay, look. I think we're here, this series of corridors matches the set we just came through."

"You sure?"

Rodney winced at him in annoyance. "Major, rarely do I open my mouth that I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Remains to be seen." John nodded. "Okay, I think I've got a map. Let's go see what this thing is, see if we can click our heels and get back home."

"Lead on, Scarecrow.".

John straightened and popped his back. "Scarecrow? I guess that makes you. . .the cowardly lion?"

"Oh, ha-ha. Think again. . . I'm the wizard."

"Nah, you're the lion. Searching for your courage. . ." He finished stretching, his lips curved in a silly grin.

"I'm sorry, did you just call me a coward?"

"If the tail fits."

"At least I'm not searching for my brains!"

They walked for a while, their voices echoed down the hall, followed by the faint mist of a shadow. Rodney stiffened and turned, then shook his head at Sheppard's inquiring glance. "Ghosts again?" the Major asked.

"I can't believe you would think I'd make that whole story up, about the crystal and all."

"The sleeper must awaken. Sounds like a line from 'Dune'."

"Oh please, that was in reference to latent power, not an entire civilization."

"Depends on the interpretation, doesn't it?"

"Wait, stop, stop. Touch here."

"Again?"

"Major. . ."

Sheppard sighed and tapped the wall, which slid open to reveal a set of Ancient writing on a gold wall, the third set found. "What's with this?"

"It may provide a valuable clue!"

"If you can read it! Which you can't!"

"They're all different, Major. This isn't the same writing on each wall. I bet you have to walk around the city and read them sequentially. Besides, I'm not interested in the writing, but what's behind it." He pried open the panel as he had done earlier. "Don't touch it, just look."

Sheppard looked. "Green goo. Ghost slime, which further proves my case."

"Trust you to bring up that movie."

"What is it with you and your dislike for movies?"

"Okay, I admit, that one was the pick of a very bad lot that year. But you've got me off track, and this is important, so listen. We've already come to the conclusion that this power source is evenly distributed throughout the city, that it doesn't derive from a central source."

"Did we?"

"Well of course we did, where were you? Anyway, there is a good reason for that." He grinned and waited.

"And this reason would be. . ."

"This is a unified chemical reaction. At least I think it is, I would need to do some research on it, but this power is definitely generated within the walls rather than dispersed from a central source. Hence the efficiency."

"You seem to have ascertained a lot in a short amount of time."

"Well, like I said, I need to check up on it, which I can do while you search for the crystal."

"Why don't you just ask your girl about it?"

Damn his smugness. "I will, when she shows again." He eyed the part of the wall that was pried away, studying the writing. "You know, last time I looked at one of these alone, I didn't have much time to ask her, because you started yelling about that console you found. So we've pulled a schematic and we're walking. . .look, just go stand over there for a minute."

"Are you crazy?"

"I don't think she's going to come while you're here, despite your obvious charm and unfortunate Captain Kirk tendencies, now please just go stare at something for a few minutes! Take a nap, jack off, I don't care, just go down the next corridor."

"You're not the lion, you're Spock," John muttered, "you go into heat once every seven years. Must be time to rally the tadpoles." He walked away in an agonizingly slow manner. Rodney sighed and concentrated, then gently placed his hand on the wall. He waited for a buzz, or vibration, or doorbell, but there was nothing. He brought an image of her to his mind, remembering her warmth, the pure heat he felt while in her presence. A smile curved his lips, and he started, then tried again, determined to concentrate on the matter at hand. And he felt her there.

She looked the same, of course, he wasn't sure why he expected differently. Maybe because every time he saw her, she seemed more normal, and he wasn't certain he wanted that. He wanted her to remain mysterious, not clothed in familiarity. "You've found it!" Dantanunana looked pleased.

Rodney resisted the temptation to glance behind him at the wall. "Found what?" The nonchalance couldn't disguise his curiosity.

She gestured gracefully, and his eyes followed her long fingers. "The old writings. Our scripture. This is the way to enlightenment, to become more than you are, and more than you ever thought you could be." She smiled. "Your discovery can mean only one thing. This is your path, Rodney McKay. The words have made themselves evident to you."

Okay, danger, McKay. "Actually, Major Sheppard was the one who unlocked this, so this is probably his path. I'm not much of a path person, what I really wanted to know was. . ."

"No, Rodney McKay, this is your own." Her eyes pinned his, and she slid towards him. "I have watched you. I know this is meant for you."

"And just what, pray tell, are we talking about?" His back stiffened as she drifted closer.

Dantanunana closed in on him. He felt his back press to the wall, against the symbols. "You can become one of us. I would like that."

"What, asleep?"

"No! This is the way to transcendence. To leave your corporeal being behind you, and step into a better existence."

"Leave my. . .wait. . ." he looked at her, really looked at her, "you mean a-ascension? You-you're talking about ascension! My god, you want me to ascend?"

Her eyes glowed with an inner strength that he craved. "You knew the writings were there. You merely needed someone to show you the way. Your instincts are correct, you must follow them."

"My instincts. . .no," he gave a nervous laugh, "no, see, you've got that all wrong. As usual, people just make assumptions without the facts, and I guess you're really no different, even if you are a supposedly intelligent higher being. I was just trying to discover the source of power behind these walls, I was studying the actual walls, not the writing. That-that was an accident. I wasn't searching for anything."

"But people are always searching, and you more so than most. Do not resist, do not be afraid. Open yourself to the teachings of the Eschu, as we have, as others like us have. Only then will you find peace."

"If this is the way to peace, then why are you still asleep and trapped underneath the sea?" Rodney asked sharply.

"I chose to stay behind, to help those that remained."

"So, you're sort of a, what's it called, Bodhisattva."

"I do not know this term."

"I'm not surprised, and I was being sarcastic."

"You are one of those I am to help."

"I don't need help. Besides, to ascend, I have to die, right?"

A flash of humor crossed her face. "That is the way of things."

"Okay, see, I have a problem with that. The whole dying thing."

"But the things you can achieve, Rodney McKay! The possibilities are limitless."

"How do you know? And why do you care?" Rodney's head was against the wall; if he backed away with more force, he would vanish into it entirely. The woman was pressed against him now, and his heart fluttered against her chest. "You don't know what I want to achieve, what my goals are. . .look, stop doing that! It's – distracting."

"Trust me," she smiled. "Read the scripture. It will makes sense to you."

"I can't read this."

"You will. When you are ready."

"Oh, yeah, that's really helpful, thanks." He blinked, and found he was crushed against the wall, with no one there. "Yeah, I'll just pull out my dictionary on the Ancient language and do a bit of interpretation," he yelled out, "since I seem to have so much time down here!" His breath escaped in a sigh, and he sagged. "Unbelievable."

>

Elizabeth studied the graph before her. "Are you certain there is nothing? Nothing at all?"

"With respect, I think you're getting your hopes up, Ma'am." Johnson nodded at the screen. "Don't you think if there was another city on the ocean floor, we would have discovered it long before now? We've already surveyed the waters around us, we did that our first week here. We've detected nothing that would indicate any sort of civilization, and I don't see how that assessment could change over the course of a few months. Cities aren't plants that pop up from underwater seeds."

Elizabeth knew what he was saying was true. She winced and pressed her hand to her head. "Okay, so you're saying that Ford and Teyla just dreamt this up, and imagined this city. Both of them."

"I'm no medical doctor, but I think if they were scared and in the process of drowning, a rock formation would look mighty tempting." He met anger in her eyes. "I'm just saying."

"That still doesn't explain how they got here. They didn't use a transport."

"For all we know, they could have bumped a control somewhere, and been in the right position at the right time." Johnson shook his head and gestured at the screen with his hand. "I'm sorry, but there's just nothing here."

She still looked angry. She pushed herself up from the console slowly, her head shaking slightly, disturbing her dark curls. "No. No, I'm sorry, but I can't accept that. Scan the waters again."

"But Ma'am. . ."

"I gave an order, Mister!" Her voice was uncharacteristically sharp.

Johnson stared in shock, and Elizabeth noticed. She swallowed and gathered herself as he merely replied, "Yes, ma'am," and turned in his chair. She stood still, gathering her breath and her nerves, saying, "I'll be in my office," ignoring the stares as she stormed off to lay her head on her desk, her emotions spent.

There was a light knock on her door about twenty minutes later. Expecting news, Weir called out, "Come in!" and was a little disappointed to see Dr. Carson Beckett. Well, maybe disappointed was too strong a word, she had no problem with the man, but dammit, she wanted Johnson to call out to her excitedly that they had found a city, and that Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay were safely inside. "How's our patients?" she asked, covering her ire.

"No change, which fortunately means no problems. They should be released tomorrow. May I sit down?" He held his hand out to a chair across from her. She nodded.

"If you have no news, why are you here?"

The Scotsman folded his hands on the table and said straight-forth, "I heard about your temper in the gateroom. Mr. Johnson took it upon himself to call me."

"What?" Weir started to push away from the desk, but Carson raised his hand.

"Elizabeth, please. Sit down." He waited until she conceded, and once again folded his hands on the desk. "Look, I know these events are troubling you, they're troubling everyone. But you have to admit, you're becoming more emotionally worked up about this than usual. You have to maintain your professionalism, and you know this."

"Carson, they're my friends!"

"Aye, as they are mine! Trust me, I'd give almost anything to argue with Rodney again! Or lecture Major Sheppard about his eating habits. But we have to face the facts that finding them at this point is a rather corpulent task, and an improbable one! You've sent people on missions, knowing they probably wouldn't return. Several times we thought one or the other of us was done for, and through that you kept your own emotions in check. Now, and I ask this out of professional concern, are you able to make the rational decisions necessary to command this station, or do I have to relieve you of that temporarily until you can prove that your emotions aren't going to run away with you?"

Weir stared, incredulous. "You wouldn't. . .Carson, the situation hardly calls for anything that extreme! I lost my temper, yes, and I'm holding out hope, yes, but I am perfectly capable of running this station! I can't believe you would think otherwise!"

Carson nodded. "Aye, now I've heard more rational determination in that brief statement than I've heard from you all day. That's reassuring." He leaned back. "Now I'm asking you as a friend. Talk to me, Elizabeth. You can't keep this bottled up, you'll explode sure as a shaken bottle'o pop."

She had to smile at the casual tone that had substituted the coarse, professional manner. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm fine."

"If any of your staff were to experience any sort of extreme behavior, you'd send them to Heightmeyer in a heartbeat. You know this."

"My behavior isn't extreme!"

"No, not yet it isn't. But if this keeps on, I can see it becoming a right problem." His blue eyes were sincere, and Elizabeth knew that if the soft-hearted Scotsman continued to look at her in that manner, she'd cave. "If you will not talk to Heightmeyer, will you at least talk to me?"

"I'm – upset, yes. I'd think that normal under the current circumstances."

"Absolutely. But I'm not talking about just that. What about our brief conversation in the infirmary?"

"What about it?"

"The hints you laid wide open before me, that this incident with your older self has disturbed you more that you're letting on."

"That. . .Carson, really, I. . ."

"Need to talk." Carson jerked in his chair in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "For all of heaven's glory, woman, will you please stop trying to be so strong and 'fess up? What happened freaked me out and I wasn't the one doubled! It's obvious you're bothered by it, and it's okay that you're bothered by it, but it isn't okay to play the leader and act like you're fine! Confidentiality clause, Elizabeth. It won't leave this room. Or do you not trust me?"

"Now that was cruel." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in disapproval, but she knew he was right. Carson was easily the most observant person in Atlantis, scarily so. And the most intuitive. And probably the most trustworthy. But to talk would be to admit there was a problem, that she was more disturbed than she liked. She just wasn't ready to go there.

Beckett saw the thought process, and the hesitation behind her eyes. "You know what I keep thinking?" he asked softly. "I think about what you. . .I mean she. . .said, when the city was first discovered, and didn't rise to the surface because there was no failsafe. I was thinking about how Rodney sacrificed himself to make certain you and Major Sheppard got out safely."

"And Dr. Zelenka, he was with us."

"Yes, yes, and Dr. Zelenka." He leaned forward. "Do you remember how Rodney died?"

Of course she remembered. Surely Carson didn't think he was the only one to make the connection. "He drowned." She had to take a moment to swallow. "He drowned as the waters rose in the gateroom."

"Aye. He drowned."

But he didn't drown in the sub, she thought determinedly, because he's still alive. . ."I can't stop thinking about it." Her face was grim. "I can't think of a worse way to die, really, watching the water come in, and seeing it not as a friend but as something evil that is rising up to take your life from you. Watching it come, knowing you won't be able to breathe, that there is no way out, and you can see all that precious life-giving air being swallowed by solid water. And you wait to die, because that's all you can do. And in that last moment, when you catch your last breath, you panic, because you're not ready to die. And you fight, and your body fights, and you think 'god, this can't be happening, I just want to live', but you know there is no way out. And your lungs ache, and you want to scream but you can't, and suddenly your mouth opens to take that breath right as you pass out, if you're lucky." She was staring at the far wall, and inwards at the same time. "It's the moments right before you die that's the worst, because it is so slow, so unnatural, and you are so aware of each process, and of the fact that you are going to die. It's the most terrifying thing in the world. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Carson was silent. He nodded slightly, understanding that Elizabeth spoke from experience of an obviously close call. To think of a friend dying in that way would be horrendous.

Elizabeth slowly regained her focus. She cleared her throat and stared at the nonsensical papers scattered on her desk, blinking and shuffling them into some sort of order. "I guess I've been thinking about death too much lately."

"Understandable," Carson said softly. "I have been as well. I've been trying to picture meeting myself as an old man. The thought terrifies me."

"Really? You too?"

"Och, dear, I doubt that there is a single soul in the universe who isn't afraid of growing old, or dying. I've seen the body shut down so many times, and each time I wonder what it is like. Not to the point of obsession, or I'd be long ago in the nut house, but I do wonder."

Elizabeth rested her elbows on the desk, looking at Carson. Really looking. "Must be hard, playing with the course of life and death. Euphoric, but at the same time, helpless."

"Aye, it does at that. You get used to it to a point, but there are times when it really gets to you, you know? To constantly see the body decline, or give up, especially when it is someone who should've had years ahead of them. My cousin died young, of cancer. I was his physician, he'd have no other. I was fresh from medical school, and convinced I was going to cure the world with my research. And my first task, other than the research, was to watch my cousin die slowly and painfully."

"I never knew that, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said quietly.

"It was a real eye-opener, to be sure, especially for someone just starting out. But it kept me from getting too complacent."

Elizabeth raised her brows in a self-depreciating manner. "And I've been worrying about my own experience. You're faced with mortality much more often that I am, and you manage."

"You shouldn't feel bad, lass. Just don't let it get in the way." He leaned forward, and rested his hand on hers. "Grieve, Elizabeth. You've done away with the ashes, but you still must grieve. It doesn't matter the circumstance. Cry."

She stared at his hand on hers, at the peaked knuckles, the rough fingers, the pure manliness of the form itself. And then she looked to the mass of sensitivity that was pure Carson. She knew she could cry, openly, and be safe with him.

And she finally did.