A/N: Welcome back! First of all, I got such great feedback on the last chapter, so thank you for that! I'm so glad you all liked it. :) Reviews like those always make my day.

I spent forever working on this next chapter, so I hope you enjoy this one, too.

Thank you again for reading!

To keep up appearances, Ronon secured his arm around Rogers and, together, they hobbled down the streets of the village with Eva close behind, Ronon's blaster concealed under her jacket. He wasn't sure how convincing those appearances were, though. Clad in leather and earth tones, Ronon and Eva blended in well enough with the people of the planet, but Rogers, dressed head to toe in black military tactical gear with a handgun strapped to her leg, didn't quite look the part of expectant mother. Still, he held her close to him.

After a few quick twists and turns through the village to throw off anyone who might be following them, Ronon led them into the relative safety and privacy of an alleyway. Rogers released herself from his protective hold, stood to her full height, and drew her sidearm.

"Don't use that unless you have to," he said. "It's too loud and too lethal."

"I'm sorry, but I'm no good at hand-to-hand combat," she replied, releasing the safety.

"Then stay back," he ordered.

He glanced down at Eva and held his hand expectantly out to her. With a lamenting sigh, she returned his blaster to him, only to replace it with a knife not five seconds later. The three waited in silence for a moment, ready, lying in wait for anyone who might follow them into the alley. When no one did, Ronon finally spoke.

"That was quick thinking in there," he said to Rogers, cuffing her on the shoulder.

She staggered a bit under the weight of his hand, but smiled up at him. "Well, I had some inspiration." She gestured in Eva's direction. "But I still don't understand. Why would they poison the ale?"

Ronon shook his head. "It could have been a sedative. Wanted to kidnap us rather than kill us."

"Do you think they were trying to hide something? Like they didn't want us asking questions?"

"No," Ronon answered. "The barkeep gave us the ale before any of us started asking questions."

"You think he was in on it?" Eva mused.

Ronon turned to her. "Definitely."

"Aw man," she whined. "I thought he was nice."

"He was creepy," Rogers countered.

Ronon thought back on the whole interaction and a hint of clarity dawned on him. "That's why he kept pushing the room upstairs. It was a cover."

"Once the poison began to take effect, it would have looked like we had just gotten tired and needed to rest," Rogers said with wide eyes, finishing his thought.

"They didn't want to draw attention to what they were doing," he alleged.

Rogers appeared deep in thought and when she spoke again, she lowered her voice. "But why only two mugs instead of three?" she asked, looking over to Eva.

Ronon furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"We should radio the others." She tapped on her earpiece. "Colonel Sheppard," she said quietly, "this is Rogers. We think someone just tried to roofie us in the local pub. Something fishy is going on here."

"Copy that, Doctor," Sheppard responded. "We're not getting much from the locals, anyway. Meet you at the rendezvous point."

Rogers looked from Ronon to Eva and back before she replied. "Actually…I think we should meet somewhere else."

"This is a bad idea."

Enough people in the tavern had overheard their conversation with the old woman; there was plenty of evidence to suggest the temple of the Portunos would be their next stop. And if that staring villager and the barkeep had been willing to poison him and Rogers, it was only a matter of time before people started looking for them.

"We should already be heading back to the gate," Ronon whispered to Sheppard. "We're walking into a trap and you know it."

"Look, Rambo," McKay snapped before Sheppard could defend his decision. "We did not walk seventy-five kilometers over fifteen hours so that we could chat with a couple of farmers, take a look around, and turn back. Believe it or not, I'm sick of being here, too."

"Oh, we believe it, Rodney," Sheppard sighed.

"I'm being serious! My back hurts, I'm exhausted, and I've got a blister the size of Saskatchewan on my right heel, but I'll be damned if we –" He stopped short, clapped his hand to his forehead and let out a strangled groan.

"McKay?" Sheppard came to a halt and wrinkled his brow.

"My head!" His voice raised in pitch and was tinged with panic. "Oh my God, my head is killing me!"

"Add it to the list," Ronon muttered, brushing past him.

Teyla walked up to McKay, took his canteen from his pack and shook it. It sounded full. Frustrated, she shoved it back at his chest. "You are merely dehydrated, Rodney," she scolded.

McKay untwisted the cap and downed half the bottle in a matter of seconds, water dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Easy there, Baywatch," Sheppard said. "We've got young viewers with us today."

Eva pretended to retch. "I'll avert my eyes," she called as she continued on the path to the nettle grove. She only made it a few paces before she, too, gripped her head.

"Sympathy pains?" Sheppard joked, jogging to meet up with her. He made it as far as the girl had before he doubled over in complete agony.

"Sheppard?!" Ronon broke away from the pack and sprinted toward the colonel and Eva.

Rogers and Teyla exchanged a look of worry.

"Go," Teyla instructed. "I can care for Rodney."

With a quick nod, Rogers followed in Ronon's path, but approached the group ahead with much more caution than the Satedan, in full sprint, had previously exhibited.

Eva stood with her hand still pressed to her forehead, eyes clamped shut as if to keep the pain at bay. Sheppard, meanwhile, was faring much worse. Ronon had barely reached him when the man stumbled and lost his balance. His friend caught him before he fell, and from under his arm, supported his weight like a crutch.

Rogers appeared a few seconds later and with a maternal gesture that far surpassed her age or experience, brought a gentle hand to Eva's cheek as she asked if she was all right. A surge of an emotion Ronon had never felt in his life coursed through him as he watched the two of them. Warmth rose from his chest to his neck and finally settled, catching like molasses, in the back of his throat. Before he could even attempt to identify the feeling or assign a name to it, he was abruptly interrupted by his commanding officer bending at the waist and throwing up the instant oatmeal he'd had for breakfast right at Ronon's feet.

"Oh my God," he heard Rogers exclaim as she angled herself and Eva away from the scene.

"We're turning around," Ronon ordered, half dragging the colonel down the hill so they could reconvene with Teyla and McKay, who had distanced themselves even farther from the nettle grove. Thankfully, it seemed like the more space they put between themselves and the wood, the better Eva and Sheppard seemed to feel.

"The hell was that?" Ronon shouted, vigorously wiping his boot in the grass.

The colonel swished a bit of water in his mouth, then spat it on the ground. "Sorry about that, Chewie."

"The temple…"

Ronon looked to Rogers and saw that she was gazing up the hill.

"The woman warned us. She said people got sick when they visited it."

"Like I said," Ronon gritted his teeth, "bad idea."

Teyla shook her head and scanned the group. "I feel fine."

"Yeah?" Sheppard asked shortly. "Go run up that hill and then tell us how you feel."

The fearless Athosian proceeded to do just that. She went as far as Eva and Sheppard had, perhaps farther, waited a moment, then stretched out her arms. "I feel nothing," she called.

It was then that Ronon realized he hadn't either. No headache, no nausea… "I didn't get sick, either."

Teyla returned to the group. "Perhaps because Ronon and I are from this galaxy, we possess some sort of resistance to the effects of the temple," she suggested.

"Then why didn't I feel anything?" Rogers asked.

They all looked at one another, trying to find some quality that Teyla, Ronon, and Rogers shared in common.

McKay snapped his fingers in the annoying way he always did whenever he had an idea. "Hang on," he muttered, fishing in his TAC vest pocket for something. He pulled out an Ancient scanner, turned it on, and made his way toward the thicket of nettle trees.

"I thought you said there was interference with Ancient technology on this planet," Sheppard yelled to him. "That's why we couldn't take a Jumper!"

McKay ignored him, walking as close as he could to the copse before turning back around – the pain apparently too great for him to endure.

"Intermittent!" he called back.

"What?" Sheppard shouted.

"Intermittent interference with our Ancient tech," he corrected. "You see, the first few generations of aerial MALPs used by the Atlantis expedition relied solely on Earth technology, but recently we've been working on a new generation of them, integrating bits of Ancient tech into their operating systems to make them more self-sufficient. For example, the older generations of our aerial MALPs were either programmed to follow a predetermined flight path or they were remotely piloted from the other side of the gate. So, to make them less user reliant, we incorporated some Ancient technology into the navigational systems of these newer MALPs, which in turn makes them capable of self-guidance."

"Your point, Rodney?"

"We decided to not take a Jumper to this planet because about twenty minutes into the MALP's flight, it lost navigation. Everything else was working – mapping sensors, atmospheric sensors, engine – they were all in perfect order, but the MALP nearly went down because the Ancient tech suddenly stopped working. Luckily it still had the old, Earth tech remote guidance built in as a backup so we were able to step in and take the controls, so to speak, before it crash landed."

"McKay!" Sheppard shouted. "Ronon just had to hold my hair back like I was a drunk sorority girl at a frat party while I puked on his shoes and you are explaining aerial MALP technology to me! Cliffs Notes! Why do we care?"

"Because it's not what Ronon, Teyla, and Dr. Rogers have in common with each other that made them resistant." He paused for a moment to ramp up the suspense.

Frustrated with McKay's usual song and dance, Sheppard turned his back to the group, thrust both his hands through his messy hair and muttered, "They don't pay me enough…"

"It's what you, me, and Little Miss Sunshine have in common that made us sick. And it explains why you," he looked at Sheppard, "got sicker than the rest of us."

"The gene," Eva said.

"The Ancient gene," McKay confirmed with a nod. "When I took my scanner up there, the closer I got, the more it wigged out – "

Sheppard turned back around. "Wigged out? Is that the scientific terminology?"

McKay talked over the interruption. "Just like the closer we got, the sicker we felt. There has to be a connection."

Rogers gestured up the hill. "That temple – it's gotta be his lab. And this whole…" she searched for the right word, "sickness was Janus' way of making sure he could keep the other Ancients away from his illicit research."

Sheppard exhaled sharply. "So what do we do?"

"We're so close," Rogers said as she turned to the colonel. "Please just let me check it out. At least for enough time to take pictures and do a few rubbings. If it's truly a temple, then there's bound to be some writing, probably in Ancient. I'll stay on my radio the whole time and I can even take a P-90 with me." She paused and her voice dropped as insistence gave way to earnestness. "This is the best lead we have to getting Eva back home."

Ronon glanced over to the girl. Biting the inside of her cheek, her head was bowed and she was avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Sheppard crossed his arms. "I'm not letting you go in there alone."

He was damn right about that.

"I'll go with her," Ronon volunteered immediately. He still thought it was a bad idea; but then, he supposed that was all the more reason to accompany her.

"As will I," Teyla added.

Sheppard nodded slowly. "Okay. Teyla and Ronon will escort you to the temple and keep guard. Take as many photos and gather as much info as you can." He looked from Rogers, to Teyla, and finally let his eyes come to rest on Ronon. "I want you in and out of there in twenty minutes."

The walk was short and as they drew closer, the nettle trees grew larger. They stood tall, imposing, as though they had been there for eons, their bright yellow sawtooth leaves fluttering peacefully in the light breeze. Ronon, Teyla, and Rogers wound their way through the thick, moss-laden trunks until the temple loomed over them. It was a perfectly square structure all the way around, made entirely of stone. Instead of windows, it bore dozens of small, identical arches which flanked a massive center arch on every side, each one the height of the structure itself. Shrubs and other opportunistic plants had rooted themselves along the cracks in the walls and on the roof, bringing the faintest hint of life to the long-abandoned ruins.

Ronon heard the sound of a zipper next to him and watched Rogers extract her camera from her pack. She separated herself from the other two and began taking pictures. Instantly focused on her task, it appeared that she wasn't going to waste any time.

"I think, perhaps…"

Ronon snapped his head toward Teyla; seeing the linguist at work, in her element, he had almost forgotten she was there.

"…I should patrol the perimeter," Teyla finished with a coy smile. She disappeared into the thicket, leaving Ronon and Rogers alone together.

Rogers lowered her camera for a moment and contemplated the north wall of the temple. She sucked in a quick breath. "Will you stand by that arch?" she asked him.

"Why?"

"I need something to show scale," she explained. "And since you're so big –"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Tall," she quickly corrected with a flush of pink. "Since you're so tall, having you in the frame will help give an impression of the size of this place."

"Fine." He traipsed over to the entrance of the temple and stood there.

"Say 'cheese.'"

"What?"

She snapped the photograph without a response, then clicked through the photos she had already taken on the camera's display, making sure they were turning out.

Ronon peered inside the temple and let out a quiet whoa. "Hey, Rogers?" he called over his shoulder. "Come take a look at this."

She arrived at his side, followed his gaze, and inhaled a gasp once she saw it. Standing nearly nine feet tall in the center of the temple was a statue of a seated man, two-faced and bearded. He was naked from the waist up, a swath of stone fabric draped loosely over his lower half and an outstretched arm. In one hand, he held a key, in the other, a cane.

"This is it." Her hushed whisper echoed against the walls of the ruins. "Holy shit, this is it."

She hurried to the foot of the statue and allowed herself a moment to stare up at it in awe. She moved closer, tentative at first, then ran a languid hand along the folds of the drapery, up the length of the cane, down the sculpted muscle of the figure's forearm, eventually finishing at his fingers. Ronon had to turn his back to her, had to consciously stop himself from imagining her hands exploring not stone, but skin.

"I think I found something," she stated.

Ronon dared to face her again. She was now kneeling, brushing away centuries of dirt and lichen to reveal an Ancient engraving that lay beneath. She read it aloud. "Tempus fugit. Ottionam vostram facete."

"What does it mean?" Ronon asked as he knelt next to her.

She turned to look at him and translated. "Time is fleeting…make your choice."

Shrouded in the shadow of the great statue, they regarded each other in near silence, the only sound in the temple the whispering resonance of their breathing. As he thought about how soft and inviting her eyes seemed, he realized he had never looked at her this closely for this long. He had never noticed that her eyelashes were red, or that her nose was slightly crooked, or that she had the smallest, faintest freckle on her bottom lip…the bottom lip he was staring at.

Had she moved closer, or had he? A trace of her signature lavender scent, now mingled with that of wood smoke and autumn air ensnared him, clouding his thoughts and dismantling his defenses. He cleared his throat before it took total hold on him and averted his gaze.

"Make your choice?" he asked, getting to his feet. "The hell does that mean?"

Her eyes immediately hardened and she once again embodied the role of focused, analytical linguist. The transition happened so fast, Ronon wondered if she had even sensed his desire at all; but when she finally spoke, her voice trembled. "I think we have to choose either the scepter or the key."

"Choose it for what?"

She looked up at the two-faced man and pondered her answer. "To open the door," she replied. "Janus was the Roman god of doors and I would bet anything this statue is somehow the entryway to his lab."

"So then it's the key," Ronon said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Keys open doors."

She shook her head. "That seems too easy."

"So you don't think it's the key?"

"I don't think it's not the key."

"What?"

"I just think there's more to it." She lifted her camera and took a few last photographs of the statue before putting it away.

As soon as she started a rubbing of the Ancient inscription at the sculpture's sandaled feet, there was a crack of twigs and rustling of leaves outside the temple. Ronon spun toward it and aimed his gun. "Stay behind me," he said to Rogers, mentally cursing how exposed they were due to the open layout of the temple.

"It is only me, Ronon," Teyla announced before anyone could act.

With a sigh of relief, he lowered his weapon.

"Our time is nearly up. We should start heading back before we cause Colonel Sheppard further annoyance. I imagine Rodney and Eva are already providing that in abundance." She looked toward Ronon and then to Dr. Rogers. "Did you discover anything new?"

A/N: "Tempus fugit. Ottionam vostram facete." Hey! That's the name of the story! (Hope you liked my made-up Ancient.)

Thank you again for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it. :)