It seemed to take forever, but Weir had the news she had been waiting for. Not only that, but young Fleischman, who said he was twenty-three but looked every bit of twelve, could pilot the small sub. "Technically," he said as he passed his hand along the outer hull, "both crafts are submersibles, not really submarines, though the other one was large for a submersible. But I guess as far as the Atlanteans are concerned, that's arguing semantics. I mean, what they classify as a submarine may not be what we would normally. . ."

"Are you certain your gene will operate this?" Weir cut in.

"Seems to. I've powered it up with no problem." A grin split his face, and Weir took back her opinion that he looked twelve. Definitely eight. "Can I keep it?" She had a feeling he was only half-kidding.

"If you locate Dr. McKay and Major Sheppard intact, then yes. But you have to ask permission before going outside to play."

Ford and Teyla were running towards her, gear in hand, ready to set off. She merely nodded their way, not wanting to delay them by using words, and not wanting to jinx the mission in that manner. Her face said everything, and their glances back before entering the sub spoke volumes. Elizabeth retreated to the gate room, and watched helplessly as the room flooded, and the smaller sub was launched. She eyed the rough map that Ford had sketched, and its twin on the monitor before her. She'd have several hours to wait.

Always waiting.

>

How someone could just disappear from sight, without a trace, never ceased to baffle Rodney. Especially when he had been keeping up a constant dialogue, okay, granted it was with himself, but that didn't matter. The major should have been there listening. It was important, dammit, he wasn't talking just to hear himself talk. Well, okay, maybe a little of that. "Major, if you don't answer me, I swear I'll. . ." he hesitated, tossing about for a viable threat, "I'll draw a mustache on Johnny Cash! I swear I will! A big, fat milk mustache with really white, really tacky glue so you can't disguise it! You got that?" He waited. "Oh, okay, not a good enough threat, huh? Fine! We'll see what else I can come up with!" He cursed and swung his light around. It made sense that so much of their equipment would be waterproof, but he never appreciated that fact until now. His little drowning adventure should by all rights knock out any and all equipment stored in his vest, but as luck would have it, waterproof. Well, except for his notebook, that was sogged, and now the pages were permanently married to each other. It was disgusting. "Major! This isn't funny, we really don't have time for this!" He cursed again, and spun, shining his light right into a pair of glowing red eyes outlined in black. He yelped, dropping his light, but a familiar voice eased his fear somewhat.

"What is wrong?"

"What's wrong? What the hell's up with your eyes? You've never done that before!"

"Forgive me, it must be the lack of light." The room he was in brightened slightly. Rodney knelt down and retrieved his flashlight, clicking it off. He looked up at Datanunana.

"Yeah, uh, likewise. You just startled me, that's all." He stood cautiously. "You here to help me find the major?" His shoulders sagged as a possibility struck him. "Is he stuck in another closet or something?"

"I merely wish to speak with you, Rodney McKay. When last I left you, I believe you were uncertain about the full implication of my offer."

"To ascend?" he asked casually. "Haven't given it another thought."

She grinned and walked up to him, looking up like an adoring child. "You liar," she teased lightly, "ascension has been the only thing on your mind since I mentioned it. I can tell."

"Have you been watching me?"

"I am always aware of you. Have you an answer for me?"

Rodney's brows furrowed, and he took a step back. "Answer? Now? You want me to decide now?"

"I do."

"Well," he realized he was practically whining, and forced his voice steady, "it's a pretty big decision, I mean you can't just launch head long into something like this, it had to be weighed out, pros against cons, viable options against unviable, life against death. . ."

"No death, Rodney McKay. There is no death here."

"Ah-ah, see, you're wrong. Anubis. He was semi-ascended, and he died."

Her confusion was almost cute. "I have heard of this being! But he is not dead."

"What? I mean. . .what?" Rodney stammered.

She tossed her head and walked away from him, eyeing the room as she spoke. "The semi-ascended are more prone to death, but even they do not fully die, not as you. Sometimes they are able to complete their ascension. Sometimes they are trapped, and doomed to live in the eternal torment of their sins."

"I see." He thumped the flashlight against his palm. "So this Eschu, is this like a purgatory? Is it the deciding factor between ascension and torment?"

"It is merely the path. The nature of ascension is up to the individual. I can assist you, but only you can walk the path."

"And you have no idea what will happen to me."

She gently wrapped her hand around his arm, giving it a reassuring shake. "You are a good man, Rodney McKay, with a good heart. No ill will come to you. It is an easy choice, and you will have the opportunity to do so much for your friends and for your city!"

"But I thought there was a law of non-interference?"

Datanunana seemed confused. "Why ascend if not to help others?"

"I, uh – good question. Unfortunately, I have no ready answer for that."

Her gaze penetrated his, and again he felt a burning heat deep within him. "Do you really want to die?" she asked quietly. "Do you really want everything you've worked for and achieved to fade away? You've spent your entire life in the pursuit of knowledge." She reached out and fingered his hair. "It would be a shame to lose it all as your body rots."

He felt a quick pain in his head, and Rodney's breath caught at the image thrust into his mind; of the weight of dirt pressing him down into the ground, of his brilliant brain liquefying and dripping from his ears as his eyes dried in their sockets. Of his quick fingers frozen forever as the flesh and muscle tore away from his bones. Of his lips pulling back from his teeth as they rotted, his silver tongue turning into mush. Of the stifling coffin heat, the smell of decay trapped around him. He jerked back, his mind reeling, and stumbled backwards. Small hands steadied him as he hid his face from the visions, then looked up. "How-how did you. . ."

"I can save you from that. You can carry on your creations. You will have more at your disposal than you have ever imagined."

She smelled so good. Like roses. Maybe a fresh breeze. And she looked so young. He shook his head. "No, you're playing tricks with me."

"Maybe. But you know the truth of it. You will die, Rodney McKay, and everything will die with you. Or it can live on forever. It is your choice. Would you be selfish and rot, or share yourself and fly with me?" He lips brushed his, so sweet, so alive, and then she was gone.

Rodney gasped for breath, his eyes tearing. He took a few steps back and sank against the wall, feeling a heaviness in his chest that compounded the fear in his heart.

Damn it all.

After several moments, he forced himself to his feet. Gathered his wits about him, pushed her out of his mind. Forced himself to relax. She was conning him, of course, but she had touched the skin of his innermost terror, and given him an out. Of course he couldn't accept it. He shouldn't.

But Daniel Jackson had. And lord knows he was no saint.

No, he thought viciously, no. I refuse. And in his head, a voice. . .

"We shall see."

>

John was truly pissed. It wasn't unusual that it was directed at Rodney, but the pure intensity of the emotion startled him. Even with the incident surrounding Chaya, he hadn't been this pissed at the scientist. Maybe it was because with Chaya, Rodney had at least had Sheppard's interests at heart, or either he wanted to prove himself right in his assumptions. But now, disappearing like this was just wrong. He had no more strength within him to be worried. He was convinced the errant scientist had wandered off, mindlessly babbling to himself, because he sure as hell wasn't paying any attention to it. He rounded a corner, and poof! The amazing disappearing McKay.

Son of a bitch.

The rooms and corridors were getting darker too. He flashed his light from one room to the next. The air felt heavy, like drooping eyelids, and he wondered if the city was falling asleep. Was too much energy being spent in lighting the entire place? Not like it had been in operation for years, it had to acclimate. Right? John was intrigued by the thought of a living city, though he didn't trust the inhabitants, wherever the hell they were, not until he confirmed with his own eyes that they were nothing like the Wraith. He'd already awakened one death threat, he had no desire to add to the list.

His light swept over a line of control panels along the walls. Well, at least the setup was different here. Nothing he attempted would turn the panels on. He was locked out. "I see," he muttered to the air, "you've got your temper up. You didn't like what we found out, huh? Or you're keeping us from finding out more. So what little secret are you hiding?" He continued to tap at the console, even thought he knew it was no good. "Got a crush on a certain mainframe, maybe?" He chuckled to himself, even as he heard the panicked yell further down the hall. His name was shouted twice before it registered, and even then it took a moment to realize that Rodney was in trouble.

His heavy boots pounded down the hall, the echo almost obscuring the frantic cries. He had to stop, to listen, to gauge a direction and go there. It took even longer to open the door, and he was at the point of trying to break it down when it slid open to a terrifying sight.

Rodney was in the floor. Not on it, but half inside it, and he gave a terrified cry. "MAJOR!"

John gaped at the sight before running into a belly slide, stopping within a foot of the vortex that was sucking McKay in. He was already up to his waist, and the fear on his face was unlike anything John had ever seen. He grabbed the man's hand in a white-knuckled grip, and already felt himself sliding into the yawing mouth. "Rodney! Listen to me, you have to pull up, you have to help!"

"You'll slide in!" Rodney's forced voice was steadier than his expression allowed. The trembling grip told the story.

"Try, dammit!"

"Oh, God!"

"Rodney! Fucking pull, damn you!"

Rodney pulled with all his strength, as did John, who felt his shoulder pop under the stress and blindly ignored the sudden pain. Rodney was being sucked in, he could feel it, feel the suction through the body he was so desperately trying to save. His hands clenched Rodney's wrists, and the poor man had a blood-stopping grip on his. John felt himself slide, despite his efforts. "Rodney!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

"What, you think I'm enjoying this?" It was a classic quip, and it almost brought a smile of relief to John's face, except that Rodney had wrenched a hand free, and he was loosening John's grip on his other wrist. "Major, let go!"

John grabbed Rodney's free hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving your ass, you inconsiderate bastard!"

Oh, hell no. "You selfish little shit!" John's anger returned. "Enough of the nobility act! Get you ass up here!"

"I can't, it's tearing me apart!" The fear had returned as he slid in further. His face was distorted as he fought the pull. "Let go!"

"No!"

"Dammit, let go, unless you just want half of me," he growled, his eyes flashing at John. And in that flash, John read fear, resignation, and something else. . .

"No, no, I've got you, see? You're not going anywhere. . . Rodney, Rodney! RODNEY!" There was a desperate blue glare, a last ditch effort to grip his hand, and the floor was solid. "Rodney!" Sheppard ran his palms over the floor, slapping it hard in anger, working his fingers into cracks that weren't there. His eyes darkened and smoldered.

His friend was gone.

No. He wouldn't accept that.