"Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

"Ever wonder why there are so many consoles in this place?"

Rodney really didn't care. He only cared that he was tired, that his feet ached, and that he was way overdue for a meal. It was a wonder his sugar hadn't dropped, that he was still standing, and he chalked it up to pure nerves. After this was over, if he survived, he'd collapse in a dead heap and make the major feel sorry for ever putting him on a submarine in the first place. "I guess because the only thing to do at the bottom of the ocean is play solitaire."

John wasn't phased. "Each room has some sort of console. And each one has a different database."

"So it's a research station," Rodney said, offhandedly. And froze.

There was another pair of eyes. Right in front of him.

Rodney yelled out and ducked, pulling John down with him. The major yelled out in anger, then his eyes widened as he took in the eyes glaring down at them, eyes which suddenly vaporized. Both men stood shakily. "Not your girl?"

"No."

"Then what the hell. . ."

"I don't know, look, let's just go in here for a minute, okay?" Rodney pulled at John's sleeve and walked through the doorway, and into a room with yet another horseshoe shaped console.

John shook his head and sighed. "Ever get the feeling we're walking in circles?"

"What's this one say?" McKay was forcing down his sudden fright by sitting on the floor, his arms on his raised knees. His eyes were closed as he made himself relax. No food, no drink, scare not good for the heart. . .passing out imminent. . .

"Well, if you want to take the time to. . .McKay? McKay!" He rushed over and propped the man against the wall. "What is it?"

"Need to eat something. . .head fuzzy."

"Crap." John rummaged in his vest and pulled out a wrapper. "Only one I have, and I'm not guaranteeing. . ." Rodney snatched it and tore the wrapper open, biting halfway down the powerbar. "Course, doesn't really matter, I guess." Rodney just looked at him through slitted eyes. "Okay, look, you rest. I'm gonna see what else I can find out about this city, okay?" McKay just nodded as he chewed.

John clapped his arm and stood, jerked his shoulders back to loosen them, and sat at the controls. God, he hated research. Every terminal looked the same to him, and seemed to run in the exact same manner, but he had noticed that each one had its own purpose. One for monitoring energy, one for station layout, he presumed for repairs, one science station, and this one. . .appeared to be a library. He combed through the references until he managed to find one that was semi-intelligible. There were even drawings. John smiled, wondering if he had in fact stumbled onto a library, and into an old children's picture book. One of the pictures in particular caught his eye, and he allowed what words were recognizable to trickle in. Next thing he knew, he was engrossed.

She was in his dream. It wasn't possible. It definitely wasn't necessary. She leaned over him, and he was aware he was sitting on the floor. He could even see Sheppard reading something on the terminal before him, fully engrossed. Was he asleep, or not? "What's going on?" His voice carried, but Sheppard didn't stir.

"You were ill. I was concerned."

"This? This is nothing. I've been worse." He frowned. "How are you able to be here? I mean, he-he can't see you, right?"

"We are connected, Rodney McKay. It happened the first time you saw me, that was how I knew you would be the one to take the path."

"Okay, back to this path thing. I'm not a path finder, nor trail blazer, I detest bugs and I hate hiking. I prefer a desk and some experiments, and when possible, a TV. I abhor nature, I loathe animals, other than cats of course, and I burn easy. I stay on my track, and I hate being shoved off! So get over this path thing, cause it isn't going to happen."

"You were right."

"What?"

"About the walls. You are correct." And she proceeded to explain.

Rodney woke just as John spun in his chair. Both men faced each other, full of news, and both rattled it off, voices overlapping.

"Alive!"

"Nono, listen to me, there was this war. . ."

"It stayed at the bottom, we have to wake. . ."

"Yeah, see, and they were sunk. . ."

"Okay waitwaitwait!" Rodney's hands flew to his head. "You're worse than an organ grinder! Will you just shut up for a minute, this is important!" John raised his brows and made an impatient gesture. "Thank you!" Rodney took a breath. "I was right about the walls. It isn't only a chemical reaction, it's an organic reaction." He waited.

John leaned towards him, intrigued despite himself. "Okay, wait. This is. . .organic?"

Rodney nodded. "Think of it as blood running through the walls. The city's a living being."

"Alive?"

"Yes!" Damn if his eyes weren't actually sparkling. "Isn't it amazing?"

"You mean we're walking inside something's guts ?"

Rodney winced. "Only you could be so crude, but in a manner of speaking. . .yes. It's tapped into the mainframe, as it were. It not only runs the city, it is the city."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Rodney raised his chin toward the console. "Why, what'd you find?"

"Oh, nothing quite so big. Just that there was a war between these people and the Atlanteans, and that this city is down here for a very good reason."

"Major, what are you talking about?"

John leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, pleased with the notion that, for once, he was filling McKay in, rather than the other way around. "There was a rebellion. The Atlanteans were following the way of the Eschu, which is a doctrine that reveals the "universal source", or a higher element of being that is the next step in evolution. How this doctrine was founded is unclear, but it's been around before even the Atlanteans. They adopted it as their philosophy, and with it was able to form a civilization very much like paradise, because everyone wanted to be on their best behavior, as it were, in order to ascend. This lasted for thousands of years, and with their advanced technology they were able to tap into this 'source' that allowed them to achieve the next step of awareness. But not everyone could do it, I don't know if it was a genetic thing or what, but their technique was very experimental. Either way, it laid down the foundation for the society. And as with every big barrel, you have your bad apples."

"You mean there were some that saw ascension as a mean of power and not spiritual advancement," Rodney supplied.

"Bingo. So you have a faction that wants to use this information to ascend and carry on their own spiritual growth, and you have those that want to use this 'ascension' thing as a means of power, and not follow the way of Eschu. These renegades took hold of an underwater base, this base, which was a last refuge against the Wraith. During the evacuation they set themselves to hibernate, knowing that when the time was right they would awaken with the power and knowledge of the ascended Atlanteans, and rise again to take over Atlantis and defeat the Wraith." He wagged a finger. "But! They wanted more. After the Wraith, they intended to control everything, because they are 'enlightened beings' whose task it is to set the universe to right."

Rodney digested this information in amazement. "How did you learn all this?"

"I can read, McKay." He swiveled the chair back towards the screen. "But pictures, mostly."

"Photographs?"

"Of course not. What I couldn't make out in text, I gathered from the pictures."

Rodney walked to the console and looked. "Major, these are children's stories!"

"Yep."

"You're getting your save the universe, vital info from Sally, Dick and Jane!"

"Hey! At least I didn't imagine mine! Your source is so much more reliable?"

"Dot came to me in my dream! She said. . ." he hesitated thoughtfully, "she said we're connected."

Sheppard waved his hand in the air. "Great. Bring her along for the ride. What the hell."

"Major, are you sure about this information?"

"Sure enough that I really want to check out these sleepers before we go waking them up, or anything."

"So. . .if the city is alive. . .and we are to wake it. . ." Rodney looked up. "Maybe it isn't people we are supposed to wake. Maybe it's just the city itself."

"But you said this Dot person was a manifestation of someone who was sleeping."

"True." Rodney looked down, then backed away slowly. "Uh-oh."

"What is it?"

"Major, back away from the controls."

"What?"

"I said, back away, now!" The console suddenly erupted in sparks, hissing and spitting and sending electricity into the air. John threw his arm over his eyes, his chair falling over and spilling him out.

The console exploded.

Rodney rolled on the floor, his palms pressed over his eyes, then clasping his head. Sizzling noises filled the air, and subsided. Rodney slowly uncovered himself, wincing into the charged air. "Major?" He heard a groan and felt his way across the floor. "Damn technology. Major, are you hurt?" He changed his direction in response to a groan, and bumped into something soft that cursed lightly. "You okay?"

"Lights are out." The voice was disoriented.

"Only in here. Come on, get up." He felt for Sheppard's arm, and pulled. The man beside him reluctantly moved, shifting to his knees and unsteadily pushing himself to his feet.

"What the hell was that?"

"Damned inefficiency. Bad timing. Either that or the city didn't like that we discovered what we did." He felt Sheppard's question. "It's alive, remember?" He escorted Sheppard out into the corridor and propped him against the wall, looking him over in subtle worry. "Sure you're okay?"

"Will you stop asking me that?"

"You're not answering me!"

"I'm fine, I just got. . .singed."

"Uh-huh." McKay's eyes roamed up and down, proving to himself that the major wasn't lying. Last thing he needed was a dead body to worry about, it would be hard enough to get his own ass out of there. "I guess your kid's books hit close to home. Things were peachy until you tapped into the fucked up mind of a psycho city."

"You were the one who said to look up Eschu! Don't blame this on me!"

"I do blame you, Major!" Rodney backed up a step so he could jab his finger into Sheppard's chest. "I blame you for the explosion, I blame you for being here, I blame you for putting me on that sub without running proper tests first! I mean, what the hell were you thinking? Now were stuck in the belly of a beast that wants us dead! How's that feel Major, huh? Feeling adventurous?"

Sheppard worked his mouth, and his dark brows drew close over his frown. His voice was threatening. "Now, you listen here! None of this is my fault. . ."

"Oh, because you've done such a great job of planning so far!"

". . .and you are out of line!"

"Out of line? Me? That's a laugh! I not only toe the line, I erase it! I rub it out! No line, no restrictions, no attachments, nothing to lose! Like my life!"

"You are one paranoid son of a bitch."

"With good reason! Can you possibly comprehend what the day-to-day activities of Atlantis would be like without me? With someone like Kavanaugh in charge? You need me, Major, you all do. I'm not into self preservation for myself, it's for everyone else."

John pushed off the wall unsteadily. "You're incredible."

"Now's not the time to suck up. . ."

"No, I mean, you really think that! You really, honestly think that the universe revolves around the great Rodney McKay, don't you?"

"Major," Rodney said patiently, "the only world I live in is my own, and I am the center of it. There is nothing unusual about that, only the fact that if I die, my world will cease to exist. And who needs that? Huh? Who needs that? My world, Major. My world, in my own head, all me, filled with all of my ideas and theories and affirmations. I can't imagine not having that! So hell yes, the universe revolves around me, just as it revolves around you in your own head! So stop being so damn smug like you know what you're talking about, because I can guarantee you don't know a thing about me!"

"Oh, cut the crap! You hole yourself up and hide behind this oh-so-intelligent brain of yours and claim not to care, but I've seen you care, Rodney. I know you better than you think, so stop the damn act!"

Rodney stood nose to nose. "You don't know shit."

"I know you care."

"That's a lie."

"Admit it, McKay. You're a softy!"

"Screw you, Major!"

"You care far more than you let on!"

"Fuck yourself!" Rodney was storming down the hall.

"McKay, I. . ." John gave a sudden cry of pain and doubled over. He was on his side when Rodney reached him, face twisted in fear.

"Major? Major, what is it? Oh god, please, you lied to me, you said you were okay. . ."

A hazel eye opened. "Gotcha."

"Son of a. . ." Rodney shoved him away as Sheppard grinned. He was quite proud of the rather extensive vocabulary McKay possessed. He chuckled, then winced because dammit, he did hurt, and braced against McKay.

"I'm sorry, I. . ." he laughed silently, "I had to prove it. Your scientific inquiry's got the better of me."

Rodney's mouth was working underneath his glare. "You. . .are an ass."

"Maybe, but we clarified one thing." John found his footing, and confronted the scientist.

"What."

"You're afraid to die."

"What?" Rodney pulled back.

"You are! You're afraid to die."

Rodney sputtered in the face of the obvious. "Well. . .aren't you?"

"Sure I am! Who the hell isn't? But I don't harp on it, I don't look at every crisis as the last one! Beside, with you it goes way past any normal fear."

"Do you seriously want to picture a world without me in it?" He spun on his heel. "I don't!"

"Are you seriously going to ask me that?" John reached out and caught Rodney's arm. "Hey, look." He noticed the tense lines in the man's face, the way he suddenly snatched his arm away without thinking. "This really bothers you, huh?"

Rodney looked at Sheppard, and everything about him was ready to deny all fear. But Sheppard wasn't throwing verbal punches, and his full attention caught the scientist off-guard. Rodney's soul collapsed in a sigh. "You've no idea. I mean, I can't stand the thought of me ending. Me! I'm a scientist. Curiosity is all that I am, that and a packet of damn good information. See, I have to have a puzzle, I have to be able to think. To just stop, to become nothing. . .terrifies me." He licked his lips and looked down, uncomfortable with sharing so much. Then without another word he walked through the nearest doorway.

"And yet you constantly put your life on the line," Sheppard said, following closely behind.

"Yeah, I've really gotta stop doing that. Oh look! Another console."

John was shaking his head, finding within him an odd and rather annoying need to reassure this brilliant man. "Besides, who says you become nothing? I mean, look at the Ancients. Hell, look at all the sentient beings we've found that aren't anything remotely close to humanoid, and have survived dying. . .sort of."

Rodney knew he was trapped in a conversation he never intended to start. He leaned on the console, yet another goddamn console, this place was nothing but rooms filled with machines taunting him because they held clues he could not decipher. But he was beating the system. His palms were pressed against the cool metal, bracing him physically, and almost emotionally. His distressed expression turned towards a distant spot on the floor. "Do you believe in God?" he asked, reluctantly.

John frowned. "What?"

Rodney looked at him. "I said, do you. . ."

"No, no, I mean I heard you, I just – I wasn't expecting a question like that."

There was a moment's silence. "Well, do you?" Rodney pressed.

His blue gaze was intent on Sheppard's, his face carved in perfect seriousness. John opened his mouth and closed it again, and gave the question due weight, considering the sincerity of the subject. "I think so," he said quietly. "I mean I did when I was little; my parents were Catholic so I went through the usual Sunday services complete with pot roast dinner, did they whole candlelight mass, confirmation. Even confessed once or twice, not because I felt I'd done something wrong, but because it was something Catholics did. But do I believe in a Christian god? Maybe not so much."

"Really." Rodney straightened. It was obvious he found Sheppard's admission fascinating. Even distracting. "So. . . what do you believe then?"

This was a conversation John never expected to have with Rodney, and certainly not to this degree of seriousness. "To be honest? Haven't given it a lot of thought. I think I believe in God more out of habit than anything else."

"This life we lead, it, uh. . .it makes you question the validity things, say, the Bible for instance, doesn't it?"

"The Bible can still be perfectly valid."

"Sure, as far as casting the first stone, but I don't recall a verse that says, 'And on the seventh day, God created the Wraith.'"

"No, that would be the sixth day. Now we know why he rested on the seventh." John waved away Rodney's disgusted look. "I know, I know. I get what you're saying. And I'm saying, don't dismiss it so easily."

"Easily? You think it's easy to dismiss faith?" He checked himself, and flung his arms in disgust. "Okay, you know what? You're right. It is easy. Too damn easy. We look upon every other faith as a myth, why not our own? For all we know, Christ was a fucking Ancient!"

John's ingrained piousness reared its head. Of course, with everything they had seen, with all of the faiths that have been proven more as societal control than anything, he could see how Rodney would take his view. Hell, from what he knew of the Jaffa, their entire culture was turned upside down. Granted, on the whole, they seemed to be handling it well, considering they had been told their gods were dead and gone.

John leaned against the console beside Rodney and folded his arms. "There are those that say having faith, any faith," he said, "is the one thing that prepares you for death. To me, you just have to accept that it's going to happen." He spread his hands. "I mean, think of it as the next step up. You can't be that afraid of it, look at the work you do! Look at the number of times you've stuck your neck out and paid the price. That's not fear of death. I think maybe you have a healthy respect for it." He cocked his head. "Besides, you never struck me as the religious type."

"No, no, I'm not. What you just said sounds more like faith to me." Rodney looked down. "I think," he continued softly, "when we end, that's it. We're ultimately just a collective mass of electrons and subatomic particles that merely disperses once we kick the proverbial bucket. There's no fanfare, no choir, no angels, no pearly gate. Just. . .oblivion." He shook his head sadly. "Eternal blackness. And what's even worse, if you don't make a name for yourself, you're completely forgotten. I mean, everyone who remembers you will eventually die, right? And the memory goes with them. If there is a heaven, there's no banners up there that say, 'oh, hey, look, it's Dr. McKay, he did such and such.' After we die, we've got what, a good thirty years max to be remembered, if those people don't go senile first." His voice rose with emotion. "I'd like a monument, you know? Something really big, not over the top, I mean, but significant. So everyone knows what I did, that I made a difference, that my life had meaning."

"You ever consider the fact that it doesn't matter if you life has meaning? I mean. . .you'll be dead, anyway."

"Are you serious?"

"Then what about those times you sacrificed yourself, that has meaning."

"Oh, yeah, only to 'ultimately fail'," Rodney said miserably, thinking back to "elder Weir" and her story about the "other Rodney" who failed in his attempts to save the team from the oncoming torrent of water, which flooded the city and led to Sheppard's biting comment.

John remembered too, and winced. "I may have been wrong to say that. Because you didn't fail. You got Elizabeth out of there."

"No, she got herself out of there. You got her out of there."

"But you convinced her to go. She could have stayed. It was a little thing, but it was a thing, something you did, that made a difference. Otherwise, the city wouldn't have risen. You are partially responsible for that, you know." And he fell silent with the disturbing thought that a part of him had recognized a part of Rodney. For all his talk, his theories, his brilliance and self-righteousness, the man was internally as insecure as they come. He was truly afraid of being alone and forgotten, which was a powerful, disconcerting emotion for such a stoic and analytical mind. And one John could totally relate to. "I guess we could paint your likeness on the windows near the east tower."

His face was earnest, and it took a moment for Rodney to realize he was teasing. Conversation over, he snapped himself upright and focused on the problem before them. "Yes, well, that's where the sun rises, correct?"

"Here? Does it?"

"Look, who cares? "

"Rodney?"

"Yes, Major?"

Sheppard leaned in, still a bit taken aback by the sudden humanity that Rodney had let slip. "Why the discussion? We're not going to die down here."

"You never know, Major," Rodney muttered softly.