The waves were pretty at night. They soared up towards the city like white wings, only to dip down again and rejoin the water. The city lights reflected and danced, and in another hour or so the moon would rise hugely on the horizon. Elizabeth shivered slightly and pulled her favorite, worn sweater around her thin shoulders. She was as far away from the city as she dared go, on a pier within the crook of one of the city's many arms. The design reminded her of a snowflake, which never really struck her as odd until she rose over Atlantis in a puddlejumper, and saw it below, grand and stately and delicate, as all snowflakes were. Only this one refused to melt on the water.

She wished she felt as secure.

There were times when she questioned her decision to accept the assignment to Atlantis. She was human, she had her fears, she couldn't always be the strong leader. She knew that. The fact that everyone seemed to expect her to be, flattered her. It showed they had faith in her ability, that they couldn't picture her any differently. i Oh, if only they knew. /i She closed her eyes and imagine herself back at home, on the lake, with her dog Alistair sitting beside her. Alistair was long gone, unfortunately, and so were those days on the lake. But she could retreat there in her mind, she could relive those days and the bug bites and the sunsets, the crickets and frogs, the breeze of twilight trying to chase her inside. Out here it was so expansive, a visual reminder of just how much they had to do, to explore, to take care of. Here, they were the intruders. They were the aliens in those horror movies that visited other planets. They had come to the Wraith, the Wraith hadn't come to them. Of course, they hadn't tried to suck anyone's face off either.

Maybe she was just lonely.

Maybe she could meet a man who would be willing to move to Atlantis. Someone off-world, a farmer, maybe, gentle and loving and. . .who was she kidding? The last time they met a gentle, loving race there was talk of building nuclear warheads. It was odd in a way, it was like she'd never left home.

Damn, she was depressed.

She decided sitting out on the pier was not the best thing to do while feeling this down. She knew some of the crew were going through a down period where the dark waters below looked more tempting than waiting for a culling, where being water-locked for a year had taken it's toll. She had taken to sending teams to the mainland for a day, letting them get their hands dirty helping the Athosians tend their crops. After all, it was theirs as well, and the Athosians were glad of the help. This relieved some of the stress and alien-ness of their situation. Several botanists were stationed on the mainland, studying the flora and fauna and finding plenty of differences, despite the similar appearance. It reflected the state of her crew. They wore uniforms, but each person was unique, and it was starting to show in the activities they pursued in order to stay sane. There was a dance room, for instance. She'd caught several practicing a barre routine, and was tempted to give it a go herself. Others routinely ran the halls. There were chess boards strategically placed through the station, like the pawns themselves. One room, with the help of Roberts, who was a movie buff, had been converted into a makeshift theater, the display screen on the wall jury-rigged to his laptop. The picture wasn't great, but it was watchable for the desperate escapees armed with popcorn. Only the chairs weren't comfortable. It was hard, adjusting, but for the most part the citizens were doing it with class. But there were a few that couldn't take the strain, the change, the alien-ness of it, and they would retreat to a separate part of the city, where they could take their time and come and go from the rest of the crew as they pleased. It was the bunch that shunned social contact, the bunch that craved a bit of solitude but couldn't find it. The ones that were in desperate need of a vacation, and the ones Elizabeth kept a distant, but steady eye on.

The view of the water darkened. Elizabeth blinked and winced, then looked up. A light had gone out. No, several lights. And as she watched, the tower to her left went dark.

Elizabeth stood and hurried back inside.

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"Radek?"

"I don't know. The power is just leaking out, I cannot find it."

Sheppard ran his fingers through his hair, spiking it more so than normal. He had been enjoying his football recording when everything went dark, then powered up as reserves kicked in. "What do you mean, leaking out?"

"I mean, leaking. Going away. Whoosh." He sailed his palm in a straight line and bent over his laptop, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. Sheppard made a mental note to buy him a band. "There was a power spike about an hour ago, but nothing wrong. We checked. Now power is failing."

"How bad is it?"

"I am hoping it is limited to certain parts of the city. We have bypassed some of the conduits and rerouted the power into other containment. Hopefully, this helps."

"You know where this leak is, then."

"I know about where it is, but exactly?" He wiggled his hand in the air. "Shaky."

Sheppard nodded and turned to the lab tech near him. "Get Rodney in here."

"NO!" Radek's shout startled both Sheppard and the tech. "No. I am sorry, but he sleeps, finally, and I can not take another day with him and no rest. Let him sleep, we can work on this."

"You sure?"

Radek set his lips in a line and straightened. "Major Sheppard," he said thinly, "I realize I may not carry the same level of expertise as Dr. McKay, but perfectly capable of tracing a power leak, if allowed to do my job."

Sheppard blinked, and Radek's words sunk in. "Oh, Christ, Radek. I didn't mean that."

Radek sniffed back his irritation and turned to the screen. "No, no, of course not."

"Really, I-I'm sorry."

"Dr. McKay is brilliant man. I do not argue this. But he is not only smart man." Radek tapped his temple. "We all have good brains here. We all use them. We just go slower than Rodney."

Sheppard pushed away from the table he was leaning on. "Lemme know when you find something?"

"Of course."

"And Radek?"

"Yes, what is it?" He continued to look at his pad.

"When's the last time you slept?"

The look Radek returned was surprised, and grateful, and Sheppard realized that if the same question had come from McKay, it would have been yet another demand, not a question of concern. "I will sleep, Major, once we get this under control." He was back at his pad, frowning through his lenses.

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Sheppard was in the hall when he saw her. He raised his hand to block her questions, and as usual, it didn't work. "What's going on? Are we losing power?"

"We've lost a little, yes, but Radek's working on it. Nothing to get all worried about."

"What makes you so sure?" Weir challenged, her head cocked to look at him.

"Did I ever tell you how cute you are in that sweater?"

"John. . ."

"Look, I saw the readings, and the power loss was minimal. They've rerouted, we have reserves, we're in good shape, considering."

"Where's Rodney?"

"Asleep." John looked up as the lights suddenly faded, and curses in several various languages emerged from the door. "But not for much longer." Weir gave a single nod and walked into the lab.

"Great," John muttered, "just leave it to me."

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The thought of entering Rodney's room was terrifying, to say the least. He'd rather face a Wraith dart, at least then he had weapons. But to wake an exhausted Rodney, well, if he could keep him tired enough it would probably provide a healthy defense against further attacks. He raised his hand to knock, then sighed and thought the door open. Good ole ATA gene. Rodney was going to hate him for this.

He was hardly three steps in when a heavy weight slammed into him and pushed him to the floor. He felt the weight on his back, a sharp pain as a knee pressed into his spine, and his arm pulled behind him while a hand grabbed the back of his neck. He fought to regain his breath when a voice whispered into his ear, "Following me, huh? I knew it. I knew you couldn't leave well enough alone."

John found his voice. "What the f – Rodney? God. . .lemme up..."

"Uh-uh, not so fast. I know you, I know what you want. You think this'll fool me, huh?" He yanked John's arm harder.

"Look, if this is about those sparring lessons, forget it! You don't need it, you've proved your point, now get off!" He really was hurting, and he was trying not to think of the fact that Rodney wasn't acting very Rodney-ish.

But Rodney pressed harder. "The only thing I've proven is that you've lost. Now leave me the fuck alone!" The grip loosened slightly, and John took advantage.

He wrenched his arm free, rolling onto his back and delivering a punch in the jaw. Rodney fell back slightly, enough for John to shove him aside and sit up, hands in front, readied to swing. But Rodney just sat there, rubbing his jaw worriedly, staring at him.

It suddenly occurred to John that Rodney not only wasn't acting like Rodney, he wasn't acting like he was awake. His eyes were glazed and closing as he slid to his side. John pitched forward and guided his head down before he could crack it on the hard floor. He always heard it was bad to wake someone who was sleep walking, or – sleep fighting, whatever, but Rodney had drifted off, and John was running out of time. "Rodney? Wake up. Come on, power's going all wonky. Wake up."

He took his time waking. His eyes rolled like he was drugged, leaving John to wonder just how many pills of Carson's he took. His breath was irregular, then soothed into a normal rhythm. Bloodshot eyes focused on John. "Major?"

The word carried so much confusion with in that Sheppard forgot to be angry about the pills. "Rodney, you okay?"

"Why are you in here?" He looked around. "I'm in my room, right?"

"Yeah, you're still here. I let myself in, sorry." Rodney was making no move to sit up, and he was on the verge of calling Carson. "We've got a bit of a situation, you think you can handle it?" He hoped the thought of work would clear that ragged mind.

Rodney brought his hand to his face, hiding it, then rubbed it slowly. John was liking this less and less. "I, uh. . .help me up." He reached out blindly, and John grabbed his hand, hoisting him to his feet and steadying him.

"Rodney, what happened? How many of those pills did you take?"

It was a moment before he answered, but when he did, he sounded more like himself. "I took two extra. They hadn't been working."

"Well, that was a pretty stupid thing to do, McKay."

"Hey, I was ordered to sleep, and this was the only way I could do it? Okay?" He swayed, and John set him on his bed. "Not like," he swallowed heavily, "Not like I wanted more pills to take."

"I thought hypochondriacs liked pills."

"We. . . like cures, Major, not quick. . . fixes." His words strung together like a drunken man, he was hardly able to utter them.

"Yeah, well, we've got a problem that requires a quick fix, but you're in no condition to tackle it. What would have happened if we were attacked right now? You think you're up to the challenge?"

"Go to hell! 'Get some sleep, Rodney. You took too much, Rodney.' Maybe I can't sleep without taking too much, you think of that? I didn't expect this to happen." He continued to rub his face.

"Okay, I see. 'Let's load up on sleeping meds to make sure they work, make sure I'm conked out so I can't tell what's going on.' That is a red warning that something is going on. It isn't a cure, it's something to hide behind!"

"IT'S A WAY TO SLEEP! Now get off my back!"

"Speaking of which," Sheppard egged him on, because the angrier he got, the more clear he got, and because he truly wanted to know what was going on, "you could have walked right into an attack and not known what was going on!"

"What are you blathering about?"

"You were walking in your sleep, Rodney. Surprise. Not good rest there."

Rodney jerked his head up, then looked like he regretted it. "I do not sleep walk!"

"No, you sleep fight. You had me down and everything. I had no idea you could do that." The last sentences carried reluctant admiration.

"Do what?"

"You don't remember?"

Rodney snorted. "I think I'd remember if I took you down."

"True." Sheppard walked over to the chair where Rodney had thrown his pants. He tossed them. "Look, no more large doses, huh? You know better than that."

"Yeah, yeah. Get me some water, will you? I'm beyond parched, my insides are shriveled."

"Yes, Oh Captain my Captain."

"Ha-ha." Rodney forced his legs in his pants and zipped. He took the water and downed it upright as John stood beside him, patiently holding his shoes. Rodney sighed in relief as he passed the glass over. "Now, did you say something about a power loss?"

Sheppard raised his brows. "Yes, Rodney," he said patiently. "Maybe you'd like to take a look?"

"Zelenka still on duty?"

"Probably."

"Wonderful." He yanked at this laces, tied them, then swayed on his bed.

John grabbed his arms. "None of that. Your punishment is that you have to work through this fog you've created. Congratulations, you've just wasted a sleeping pill."

"Damn things are a waste anyway," Rodney muttered.