Author's note: The unrest in Iceland depicted in this chapter and the previous is based on the actual political unrest that happened in Iceland around the same time this story is set, but is changed to fit the needs of the plot. Just in case you were wondering. ;)

Also, I think I read and adjusted this first part so many times while proofreading that I can't even tell if it's clear it's a flashback anymore XD. I never realized writing flashbacks could be so hard! So, anyway, hope it's not too confusing, and another thanks to ChibiDawn23 for her tips on writing. You're the best!

Also, my Chapter Title Muse returned after an extended vacation and was horrified to see what I'd been up to while she was gone, so together, we went and fixed some of my crappy titles in this story so far. She says your welcome, btw.

November 10, 2009

Nate and Elena's apartment:

It was a cool night, about six months after Nate and Elena had gotten married and about three weeks after Nate and Sully had agreed to start doing the more "dangerous jobs" again. Elena lay on her back on the couch, feet propped up on the backrest and head dangling upside-down off the edge as she watched her husband getting dressed in the middle of their living room of their modest house near the ocean. It had been hard for her ever since he had started taking on the more high-risk jobs again, but she tried to accept it as just his lot in life- and by default, her's as well. She thought back to their wedding. Surely she had known what kind of person he was as she said "I do" that day, and, in a way, she did love him for it - the saving people, that is. But there might have been some part of her- alright, no bull, there was some part of her- that thought he might change after they got married. Do something less dangerous, and less likely to leave her widowed at a young age. Clearly it was not to be.

Nevertheless, something had her in reflective mood that night, and her eyes followed his every movement as if viewing him for the first time: The way his fingers fastened the brass button on his well-worn khakis or deftly threaded his belt, securing it with the latest incarnation of large, Western belt buckle. The way the hard muscles of his back flexed and rippled as he pulled a faded Henley over his head, doing only the bottom two buttons while neglecting the top two, or the way he lowered his large frame onto the easy chair across from her and pulled on his Chelsea-style boots. She watched all these things in something similar to a meditative spell, his deliberate, methodical movements giving her a kind of sense of security. It was only after he pulled his pant cuff down over his left boot and straightened up that he seemed to notice her watching him and he spoke, breaking her out of her trance.

"Like what you see?"

Not missing a beat, Elena smirked at him and replied, "Very much, thanks for asking."

Nate leaned back in the chair, the dingy yellow fabric forming crease lines around him where his body sank into the cushion and his hands gripped the arm rests. "Do I look as good upside-down as I do right side up?"

Elena pursed her lips, considering for a moment. "Hmmm. Better, actually."

Nate clapped a hand to the side of his face, feigning shock and offense. "I'm crushed! Or is this just some new kink of yours?"

Throwing her head to the side as much as her position would allow, Elena rolled her eyes and groaned in response. "Puh-LEASE. Do you ever think about anything else?"

"Of course," he said, standing up and strutting over to her. "I think about history...and money...and occasionally even dinner." Squatting down so he could see nearly eye-to-eye with her, he continued, "Oh and did I mention money? I think about that, too."

Elena hummed and said with a chuckle, "I think you got that one already."

Nate reached out and ran the back of his index finger along Elena's soft cheek, brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "From time to time, I also think about how fortunate I am to have the amazing wife I do."

Elena frowned playfully. "Mmm, flattery."

"Honesty."

"Trickery," Elena accused.

"Modesty," Nate rebutted. "You are amazing, Elena. You always will be." He leaned forward and kissed her on her inverted lips. "But," he added with a smile, "you'd better change your position before all the blood goes to your head."

She grinned mischievously and glanced upward- or what was really downward- from Nate's face to his midsection, positioned very close to her face. "That's funny," she said wryly, "I was just about to tell you the same thing."

Nate chuckled and lightly punched her arm. "Now whose mind is in the gutter?"

"I guess I've been hanging around you too long," she smiled.

He laughed and kissed her again before standing and walking over to the coat rack in the corner. Elena turned over and sat up as he lifted his shoulder holsters from the hook and began to slide his arms into the straps. "You're not actually going to need that, right?" she asked.

He paused, thumb hooked under the left shoulder strap as he adjusted his holsters, and looked at her curiously. "I mean, it should be a pretty safe job, but you never know. Better safe than sorry."

"No psychopaths with grandiose schemes to take over the world?" she pried.

Smiling, he said, "No, not this time."

"There had better not be," Elena sulked. Smiling ruefully, she added, "Just be careful. I plan to have you alive tomorrow."

"Alright," he said, leaning in and kissing the top of her head. "Sounds like fun."

Shards of glass exploded outward into the alley, littering the pavement and spreading out in a halo from the side of the house. Nate came right behind it, flying headfirst through the air, his bent arms absorbing the initial impact as he came in contact with the ground and rolled over his right shoulder, his booted feet kicking over a can of foul-smelling garbage as his body splayed out across the gritty blacktop. He immediately picked himself up out of the puddle he had landed in and sprinted down the alley as gunshots rang out behind him, shredding wooden clapboards and chipping brick. Clutching the astrolabe in one hand and fervently wishing he was holding a gun in the other, he broke out onto the main street and froze.

Reykjavik was in an outright upheaval, as angry citizens swarmed over the streets, shouting and waving signs, banners, and- pots and pans? Nate shook his head at that last one, but didn't have time to consider it at all. Malatov cocktails flew through the air, shattering and spraying flaming liquid across storefronts, while groups of enraged vandals overturned parked cars and lit them on fire. Nate dodged behind a dumpster and spoke urgently into his earpiece.

"Sully? Hey Sully! Any time that you wanted to tell me where the hell you're at, I'd be just thrilled. Things are getting pretty hot over here."

"Do I detect a hint of impatience?"

"Sully..." Nate warned.

"We would've parked closer, but some kid started tryin' to flip the car over and light it on fire, so-"

"What?" Nate hissed as the angry shouts of Floki's men got closer.

"Oh, yeah. He seemed like a nice guy and all- you know, once you get past the pyromaniac tendencies," Sully rambled. "But all that aside, we're-"

"Sully!" Nate was bordering on panicked as he whisper-shouted into his earpiece. "Where the hell are you?"

"Okay, okay! We're over by the fountain- the one with the guy on a horse- that we saw on the way in. There, you happy?" Sully drawled.

"Ecstatic," Nate said dryly, his mind whirling back through his memories of the ride until it landed on the fountain in question. "Okay," he said, risking a glance around the corner of the dumpster but immediately drawing back when he saw one of Floki's goons running by. "I think I remember that one. I'll be there in a few!"

"We'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival..." Sully droned sarcastically.

Nate spied a fire escape ladder on the building across the alley and decided the rooftops were his best shot of getting there. Taking another wary glance out at the street, he hooked a carabiner to one of the sturdy bronze axis lines of the astrolabe and then to his belt, breathed deep, and darted across the alley. He jumped the last few feet, his hands gripping the bottom rung of the ladder with a clang as the shouting grew more animated behind him.

"There he is!" came the voice one of the thugs.

Acting fast, Nate threw himself up with the considerable strength of his arms, grabbing three rungs up on the ladder just as bullets began to ping off the metal cage surrounding the fire escape. His feet scrabbling against the brick of the wall below until they found the first rung, Nate scrambled hastily up the ladder, knowing that it was only by sheer luck that he hadn't been shot yet, as the cage provided precious little coverage. At the top, he vaulted the last step to clear the edge of the roof, a bullet sending brick fragments spraying as he rolled clumsily. He was already running as he came out of his roll, knowing that he was only a few steps ahead of the people who were trying to kill him, and by the time he reached the other side, he could already hear their footsteps pounding the roof behind him. Leaping on to the short parapet at the edge of the roof, he had only a split second to assess the jump ahead of him before throwing himself into space, arms flailing, as gunfire split the air around him.

Not that he had any other options or anything, but the roof he found himself jumping to was far from ideal. A residential house, impossibly steep, A-frame roof made of clay tiles with a spread of solar panels, and a long way to the ground if he slid over the edge. Nate's face contorted in horror as he lost forward momentum and began falling toward the peak of the house.

"OH CRAP!" Nate screamed. He landed hard on one of the solar panels in the top row, his shoulder spiderwebbing it's surface with a thousand cracks. Tumbling once over, his legs swinging in a comical arc over him, he began sliding down the panels, pawing vainly at their slick surface for any kind of a hold. It was only at the bottom row of panels that he managed to get a grip on the aluminum track that housed them, the thin metal bending in his hands and shoes squeaking on glass as he caught himself. But his relief was short lived as a bullet punched a hole in the solar panel just above him, and then another came just at his right. "Ahhh, crapcrapcrapcrap..." he ranted crazily as he shimmied his way across the roof as more and more bullets rained down around him. "Hey! These things aren't cheap!" he shouted. Reaching the edge, he once again leaped off with scarcely a look at where he was going to land, and grabbed the gutter of the neighboring house.

After pulling himself up, he ran and jumped to the flat-roofed store top across the next alley, and continued running towards his destination. Just as he was starting to think he had lost Floki's men, he saw two of the plain clothes thugs appear seemingly from nowhere, one on the building to his right and one to his left, and each with guns trained on him. "Awww, shit!" he cursed, reaching the edge of the building and seeing nowhere to go. Hesitating only for a moment, he stepped off the edge just as he heard the gunshots go off.

His landing in the dumpster knocked the wind out of him, and he could feel something slimy under him, but he was alive, and still with no bullet holes in his body, and that was going to have to be enough. Grabbing the edges of the bin, he lifted himself to a sitting position to see out just as a familiar black car screeched to a stop beside him. The window of the Dacia rolled down, and Sully called out to him, "I've seen a lot of stuff go out with the trash, but this is definitely a first!"

"Just drive, Sully!" Nate yelled as he jumped out of the dumpster and into the passenger's seat. Tires squealed as Sully pegged the accelerator to the floor and bullets rained down on the pavement behind them. The car tore down the road, drifted around a corner, and was gone.

Floki stared at the broken window, his features an unreadable mask. Garnier stood to the side, also looking at the window, but concern clear on his face, Shifting from one leg to the other, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

The noise apparently reminded Floki of the Frenchman's existence, and he turned and looked skeptically at Garnier, glancing from his face to his feet. "Do you have to piss, or something?"

Garnier glared at him with contempt and a bit of seething rage, but replied. "No, thank you very much. I'm just hoping that your men can get that astrolabe back."

Floki turned back to the window in silence, then sighed in resignation, shrugging his broad shoulders. "They will get it." He said simply.

Frowning, Garnier decided to find the bright side and said, "No matter, we still have the journal." He slipped the book out of his pocket and waved it by his face.

The redheaded brute's head turned on a swivel to look at the journal. He blinked rapidly, then his eyes went wide and he stepped so close to the scientist that Garnier could feel his breath on his face. Wordlessly snatching the book out of Garnier's fingers, he jammed it up in the small amount of space between their faces, the cover facing toward the Frenchman.

"Wh-what?" Garnier choked, staring at the pink notebook with kittens on the front that looked like it came straight from a back-to-school sale. "Where- where's the journal?"

Floki chucked the notebook carelessly over his shoulder and snarled, "That Drake fellow. He picked your pocket." Stepping even closer to where their chests were nearly touching, Floki put his head right next to Garnier's, staring past him straight ahead as he sarcastically breathed, "I can tell it's going to be fun working with you," directly in the Frenchman's ear. Giving him a shove, Floki walked by and out the side door of the house, leaving the scientist to stew over his mistake. Garnier fumed and let out a low growl, then lifted his head toward heaven and screamed.

"DRAAAAKE!"

Nate rested one elbow on the round wooden table of room 224, drinking some bottled water he had gotten from the hotel vending machine and tossing the small plastic cap to himself. Across from him sat Sully and Elena, and in the center of the table was the small, leather-bound journal of Isaac Newton's.

No one was speaking. For the last several minutes, the only sound had been the steady tock, tock of the obnoxiously loud wall clock nearby. As Elena watched the bottle cap rise and fall for what might have been the hundredth time, Sully looked from her to Nate and finally decided he was done waiting. "C'mon, kid," he grumbled, "we all know you want to tell us all about what's in that little journal there."

Nate seemed to be caught off guard by this. Twisting back around to face the table squarely, he said sheepishly, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just... thinking." Twisting the cap back on the bottle, he set it aside and grabbed the journal, opening it up to a page he had bookmarked. "So Newton definitely took some pretty extensive notes in here, and his take on the whole Atlantis thing is pretty interesting- all taken from writings of Plato and Aristotle that he turned up somewhere. According to this, Atlas was dethroned from being the king of Atlantis and the city was destroyed after the Titanomachy."

"The Titan- whatamy?" Sully interrupted.

"Titanomachy," Nate repeated. "The war that was fought between the Titans and the Olympians in Greek mythology. Atlas was a Titan. When the Titans lost the war, Zeus condemned Atlas to stand at the western edge of the earth and hold up the sky. It seems like that was also the point where Atlantis was destroyed- submerged beneath the sea, taking with it an unimaginable amount of wealth and highly advanced knowledge.

"Newton seems to have been particularly interested in Atlantis for possibly holding the secrets of the alchemical process- being able to turn base metals to gold, and also grant healing and even eternal life. Aristotle himself was something of an alchemist. So were the Chinese, and they seem to be all wrapped up in this too, somehow."

Elena brushed back a strand of hair and looked at him skeptically. "I'm sorry- how are they involved?"

Nate leaned closer to her as he began to explain. "Most people think of alchemy as a European thing- old wizards with bushy beards stirring cauldrons in dank dungeons and all that. But alchemy has been around for centuries. The Chinese were way into it, and as with all alchemists, a main focus of their research was to find the key to eternal life." He inhaled deeply, as if catching his breath for what he was about to say. "Peng Lai was the legendary Island of the Immortals, supposedly holding the key to eternal youth. It's fascinating, really. I never realized how similar the two legends were, Atlantis and Peng Lai: both lush island paradises, filled with gold, silver, and jewels. Anyway," he pulled a piece of ancient-looking parchment covered with Chinese characters from the journal and carefully slid it across the table. "This is seems to be part of a letter from a Chinese alchemist concerning the quest for the island. I'm no good with Chinese, but I guess if we could get it translated it might tell us something. It might be all we have to go on until we can figure out what Newton's 'chapel of the moon' is."

Elena gingerly picked up the brittle piece of parchment and looked it over. "I don't get it," she said. "Why all the secrecy? I mean we've got Alexander's men trying to keep him from getting to Atlantis, and Newton being all furtive about his discoveries. Why did neither of them want their find to become public? It seems like something as big as Atlantis would be the find of a lifetime."

Nate nodded. "Whatever is there must be the kind of thing that they thought they should keep secret from powerful tyrants like Alexander. Something dangerous." He looked at them meaningfully. "Newton would have wanted to keep his studies under wraps to avoid the scrutiny of the church. To fall out of favor with them would've ruined his career."

The shadows from the window were growing long, snaking across the floor to touch the group as they sat. Sully rubbed his eyes and rested his arms on the table. "Just one more thing that's been eatin' at me," he said. "The location of Atlantis- Plato says right in his dialogue that it lay 'beyond the pillars of Hercules.' Why has no one found it yet? We know where the pillars are-"

"We assume we know where the pillars are," Nate interrupted, "but lets not forget how many things history tells us that we've proven wrong. They might not be in the Straight of Gibraltar at all, maybe they're somewhere totally different."

Sully sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Sounds about as reassuring as saying 'maybe Elvis isn't really dead at all'."

"Well, maybe he isn't-"

"Don't! even start..." Sully cautioned him, holding up a finger.

Nate smirked and put up his hands, then resumed speaking. "Look, the legend is that one of Hercules'- or, more accurately, Heracles', in Greek- twelve labors was to get some golden apples from Hera's garden, which was cared for by Atlas' daughters who were known as the Hesperides or the Atlantides. Interestingly, this fits well with the Atlantis/Peng Lai concept, where money literally grows on trees, and also with the Garden of Eden motif that Sir Isaac Newton mentioned. It even has it's own version of the serpent, the dragon Ladon who coiled around the tree to guard the apples, and could be analogous to the serpent in the Bible. In some tellings of the story, Heracles just kills Ladon and walks out with the apples, but in others he makes a deal with Atlas where he holds up the sky for a bit while Atlas fetches the apples for him. That would make a lot of sense if the garden was literally Atlantis, and was sitting at the bottom of the ocean as a result of Atlas' punishment."

Sully and Elena looked at each other and bobbed their heads in agreement.

"But here the myth splits again," Nate continued. "In some versions Atlas is tricked by a very juvenile ploy into shouldering the heavens once more, after which Heracles makes his unceremonious escape. But some say that Heracles actually built two massive pillars to hold up the sky, whereby freeing Atlas from his duty forever." Nate's eyes were shining. "If that's the case, then the pillars may still be out there for the finding, along with the lost city, and if so, we've gotta find it!"

"Apples of gold..." Sully pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked air through his teeth. "You know what? I think I've earned a nice cup of joe."

"You've earned two or three, slugger," Nate said cheerfully as his mentor rose and wandered into the kitchenette. Soon he heard the gurgling of the coffee maker and rolled his eyes when he heard Sully whistling "Can't Help Falling in Love." He swiveled in his seat to grin at Elena, but his smile faded when he saw the unreadable expression she wore. "What's up, hon?" he asked.

She looked at him with eyes that were heavy with world-weary melancholy, and he was momentarily taken aback and shifted uncomfortably in the silence. "Does it ever get lonely?" she asked.

He struggled to form words. "Wha-what?"

Elena sighed. "All that weight you feel obliged to carry. Does it ever start to feel lonesome at all?"

Somewhere in Nate's consciousness it registered that this was not the first time he'd been asked this question in the last year. Maybe not those exact words, but the general gist was all there, and as always, he squirmed under the implication. "If I don't, then-"

"-no one else will, I know," she sighed bitterly. "But Nate, what if- someday- you don't come home? What if all these shootouts and booby traps finally catch up with you, and you... don't... make it?" She looked at him with glassy eyes as she continued, raising her voice just enough to convey the passion behind her words. "What do you expect me to do then?"

He looked up at her, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "I-" Nate shook his head and huffed. "I don't know!" His blue eyes were earnest as he gazed into the murky depths of Elena's hazel-green orbs. "But I promise, honey, I promise I won't do that to you."

"How do you know that?"

The question was simple, clear, and horribly impossible to answer. No matter how many ways he tried to rationalize the situation in his brain, Nate knew that he was cornered. There was no way he could actually promise that he would come home each time. Somehow, his impossibly lucky stars had kept him this long, but he was kidding himself if he thought that he could count on that forever. His mouth opened to answer, but his voice caught in his throat until he finally just shook his head softly and weakly said, "I don't know."

Elena held his gaze silently for a few moments. Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head which resulted in a few joints cracking, and pushed her chair up to the table. As she turned, she spoke again, her eyes going back to her husband's. They were eyes filled with unspoken grief, but devoid of accusation. Eyes that broke Nate's heart as he gazed back into them and the unfathomable, self-sacrificing understanding they offered him.

"Nate?"

Once more he felt challenged just to find a voice, and when he did find it it sounded incredibly pathetic to his own ears. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Just promise me that if anyone ever offers to hold up the sky for you, you won't turn them down." With that she turned and walked away into their bedroom, closing the door behind her. At the same moment Sully wandered back in, still whistling breezily, and Nate let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A mug of coffee materialized in front of him and Nate wrapped his hands around it, breathing in the earthy aroma and hoping it would clear his mind. Sully resumed his seat across from him and looked at him curiously.

"Where'd Elena go?"

"She was feeling tired," Nate said, and took a long swig of his coffee. He grimaced as the still-hot liquid scalded his throat on the way down.

If Sully picked up on the tension, he didn't let on. Instead, he merely asked, "So what now? Where do we go from here?"

Nate pulled the Chinese parchment close again and examined the characters, grateful for the distraction Sully offered him. "I'd say we find someone to translate this for us, and in the meantime we keep trying to work out this whole 'chapel of the moon' business." He pulled out his own journal to look at the page where he had scrawled Newton's words down with a big question mark next to them, as well as a few half-baked attempts to decipher them. On the opposite page he began sketching a picture of Floki with an exaggeratedly bushy beard and wearing a Viking-style horned helmet, standing at the helm of a longboat and pointing in rage at a fleeing Nate.

Sully slurped some coffee and then stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, what about that girl we worked with on the Solomon job- you know, the one who went into the field in China? What was her name, Maggie? Madeleine?"

"Molly," Nate supplied, closing his journal and putting it back in his pocket. "I thought of her, but I think I have a favor I can call in in Xi'an, somebody who can help us out." He fiddled with the ring dangling around his neck as he turned to the window. "Besides, Chloe and Charlie are in that area and I thought they might want to get in on this job. Give us a couple extra pairs of eyes watching our back."

"I won't say no to that," Sully said and threw back another swig of coffee. "We leave first thing in the morning?"

"First thing in the morning," Nate echoed. "We've got to get out of Iceland before Floki and Garnier track us down." He stood, his chair scraping back on the wood-printed linoleum. Giving Sullivan a crooked scowl, he added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got relationship issues to work on."

As Nate walked away, Sully checked his phone, taking note of the date. "What's it been, almost a year?" he mumbled to himself, and then nodded, clasping his hands together behind his head. "Yep, I'd say that the honeymoon's over."