Archive of Our Own

Tolstoy said that all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. This statement is clearly inaccurate, perhaps due to insufficient observation of happy families. Families are all alike only in that the members come to think of themselves as family; beyond that, each happy family is happy in its own unique way.

The darts had come, one after another after another, more darts than stars in the sky. John lay back in the chair, sunk into Atlantis, and felt the city's defenses crumble. He'd fired almost all the drones, and though all had found a target, the number of darts far exceeded anything they had to throw back at them.

He opened his eyes to find Rodney staring at him, hollow-eyed, flushed, face shiny with sweat and maybe tears. "There's not enough," John tried to say, his voice creaky. Rodney handed him a bottle of water and, when he couldn't grasp it, helped him lean forward and drink from it. "Not enough drones," John said again, water dripping from his chin.

"I know," Rodney said.

"The Daedalus?"

Rodney shook his head, and wiped his face on his shoulder, throwing the empty water bottle into a corner. "Just us."

John leaned back into the embrace of the chair, warm and lively beneath him, inviting, pleading for his attention. Then he edged to one side. "Come on."

"What?"

He edged over further and turned onto his left hip. "Come on, McKay," he said, and tugged at Rodney.

"You're all angles and points," Rodney complained, but wiggled into place, on his right side, their knees bumping until John intertwined their legs.

"We'll do this together." John put his right arm over Rodney's shoulders, their chests pressed together, Rodney's sour breath in his face. Then Rodney rested his head against the back of the chair and tilted forward, so his face was in John's throat, his breath warm and moist. John could smell their mingled sweat rise as they shifted until he was comfortable as he could be squashed into a narrow chair with Rodney. He closed his eyes, and held on tighter to Rodney. "Submerge," he whispered.

"Submerge," Rodney echoed, his voice muffled and tired.

Submerge. The city shuddered, groaned, creaked, and began to move, swaying at first, then steadying. In John's imagination, he saw the piers withdrawing, could feel the city pulling in on itself, the skywalks retreating into the spires, the ocean around Atlantis roiling as the city began, once again, to sink.

"Oh," Rodney said, and clutched John tighter, and they both felt the connection, the sensation that all of Atlantis was their body and the ZPMs their heart and the inhabitants their soul. Or maybe their children; they weren't sure. They simply knew, with bone-deep certainty, that they had to protect them and that this was all they had.

Dimly, they could hear people crying out, shouting explanations, exhorting others to calmness. They knew when Dr. Prewendowski died, gathering his helioseismology equipment from a balcony, and when Lt. Laurent died firing a rail gun at the darts above Atlantis even while she sank.

Abruptly there was silence. John gasped and opened his eyes. Rodney lay still in his arms, his skin cool and clammy, his eyes twitching beneath his lids. "Hey," John whispered to him, and shook him gently. "Hey. Buddy."

Rodney took a sudden deep breath. "Oh," he said again, faintly, and opened his eyes. They were red, and he had deep shadows beneath them. "We're under water."

"Full circle."

"Not quite," Rodney said, struggling to sit up. John pushed at him, and then pulled himself up; he was straddling the chair, Rodney in front of him and between his legs. He was too tired to stand, and leaned against Rodney's back. They both were trembling. "This time we have a bit of power. And we know more."

"How long can we stay down here?"

Rodney put his head in his hands. "I don't know. I can't -- give me a minute."

"Rodney?" Radek entered the room. He was pale, his hair standing on end, and he'd lost his glasses. Big rings of sweat circled his arms, and his right cheek was cut, oozing pinpricks of blood. "Thank god. Thank god." He sat, almost falling, sliding down the wall.

"Radek, are you all right?" Rodney asked. John saw how difficult it was for Rodney to move, so he pushed again, and swung his leg to one side, leaning against the chair for support until they both were standing. John helped Rodney to Radek, and then sat abruptly on the floor in front of them. "Radek?"

"Fine," Radek said, and sighed. He finally looked at them. "Surprising to be alive, yes?"

"Yes," John said firmly.

"Well, we are," Rodney said, sound more like himself, "so let's figure out what's next. How long can we stay submerged, how long should we stay submerged, will the Wraith leave or camp out and wait?"

John surprised himself by yawning. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Radek handed him a headset. "They're calling you."

He stared at it for a few seconds, unwilling to slip back into the role of base commander. He slipped it over his ear and said, "Shepperd."

"John!" Elizabeth's voice, so she was still alive. "John, did you do this? Did you save us?"

"Me and Rodney," he said.

She made a soft sound in his ear; he thought she might be trying not to cry.

"We lost some people, Elizabeth." His heart sped up. "Submerging, I didn't have time -- they were washed away, Elizabeth."

"I know, I know. But the Wraith --"

"Elizabeth, the Wraith are still there," Rodney said overriding them. He and Radek peered into a laptop.

"Rodney," Radek started, pointing into the monitor.

"I see it, I see -- the darts are pulling back. Into the hive ships. They're pulling back."

"They'll just wait there," John said. He was so tired. He had to piss, and he needed a shower and wanted a gallon of water and something to eat, but he had to keep thinking. He lay back, flat on the floor of Atlantis, now settled on the ocean floor. "How deep are we?" he asked suddenly.

"Three thousand meters," Radek said. He was starting to slump to one side, against Rodney's shoulder.

John stared at the ceiling, so high above him, lights flickering in his peripheral vision. "Way to go, John," he muttered to himself. "Crap out now?" He struggled to sit up, blood pounding in his temples.

"John," Ronon said, and helped John up.

"Control room," John said, but Ronon shook his head.

"Nothing to do there. Nothing to do but wait."

"Then I'll wait in bed," Rodney announced. He and Radek struggled to their feet, clutching at each other. "Elizabeth?"

John heard her sigh, and maybe sniffle. "Yes, yes, that's a good idea. There's nothing to do now. Major?"

Lorne's voice said, "Stand down. Radner, who's on watch? Okay, everyone else, get cleaned up. Doctor Simpson, run another scan for integrity. Colonel?"

"What time is it?" John tried to ask, but his throat was too dry.

"We'll meet tomorrow, ah, after lunch," Elizabeth said, her voice fainter.

"Get her to the med lab," Lorne said. "She's exhausted."

"We all are," Chuck said over John's headset. Teyla met them at the door to the chair room, and helped Radek. Rodney walked alone, ahead of them, limping, John saw.

"What happened to your leg?" he asked. When Rodney didn't respond, he said, "Rodney? Your leg?"

"What? Oh, hm. I forget. I was running somewhere and tripped. Bashed my knee into something." He staggered a bit.

"Help him, somebody," John said.

"McKay! Get back here," Ronon said.

Rodney leaned against the wall and waited. Ronon propped John next to him. John saw that Ronon was drenched in sweat and his upper arm was black and blistered. He wanted to ask what happened, but discovered he couldn't speak. Then Ronon scooped John up and the world was swinging along. He heard the others talking, even Rodney, though their voices sounded distant and slow, as if coming from under water and far away.

And then he slept.

When he woke, he was in one of the lounges, but it was full of cots and make-shift camp beds. Rodney was snoring next to him, profoundly asleep. Radek was there, and Elizabeth, and Ronon, and Lorne, and every face he saw he knew and ached for: they were all exhausted, consumed by fear and anger, eaten away by living in a non-stop state of siege and then by the Wraith's coup de main.

He stretched, his muscles aching from the hours he'd spent in the chair, and the hours before that meeting with his men, with Elizabeth, with the science team. He'd sat for hours, he'd paced for hours, he'd leaned over desks and consoles and computer monitors, and now he was in the Atlantian equivalent of the yellow submarine.

"And my friends are all aboard," he tried to sing, voice husky and throat sore, "and many more of them live next door."

"Colonel?"

"Biro!" he said.

She took his hand and smiled at him. "I'm so glad to see you."

"How long?"

"Just a day. Well, almost two. But everything is fine. We've got good people here taking care of us -- there are military people monitoring the skies and the ocean, and the folks in botany say they can grow what we need, and the oceanographers say the desalination plant works a treat." She smiled at him even more and patted his shoulder. "Now, I bet you'd like to pee, wouldn't you. Sossa!" she called. "Sossa, help the colonel, would you?"

John recognized Sossa as one of the Athosians who worked with Halling, a big man. He put his arm under John's shoulders and carefully pulled him to a seated position. "Dizzy?" Sossa asked. John shook his head. "Come, then. Let's try standing."

Even John's feet hurt. He walked gingerly, on the sides of his feet, letting Sossa take most of his weight. Biro was right, though; he had to piss like a motherfucker, and the more he walked, the stronger he felt, until he finally said, "I can manage from here."

"I'll wait outside," Sossa told him firmly, crossing his arms. He reminded John of both Halling and Ronon: big, confident, and very stubborn men. He was glad for his presence.

When he was back on his cot, Sossa brought him some kind of juice, like apple but pink, and watched him drink it down. He said something to Biro, who came back.

"Okay, let me see that throat."

"I'm fine," John said, but she gave him a look he recognized and obediently opened his mouth.

She peered inside, a little flashlight shining down his throat. "Hmm." She pinched the skin on the back of his hand.

"Hmm? What's hmm mean?"

"Bit red, bit swollen, but that could be from dehydration. I'm going to get an IV into you. Go back to sleep, John. We'll be safe long enough for you to rest."

He wanted to argue, but his eyes were already closing. Sossa helped him lie down again. He flexed his feet and wiggled his toes, and fell back into dark and dreamless sleep.

Next time he woke, he opened his eyes to find Rodney watching him closely. "Hey," Rodney said, and held out a glass of water. He helped John sit up a bit and drink. He drained it dry, sighing with pleasure.

"How you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, aside from a bruise on my hip from lying in that chair with you, and one on my knee, and a headache, and tendonitis in my right arm and wrist, fine, just fine. You?"

John couldn't help but laugh at Rodney's litany of complaints. "Good," he said, and sat up, proud that he did so without anyone's help. "So. We're under water."

For a minute John didn't recognize the look on Rodney's face, but then he realized that Rodney was secretly pleased and embarrassed to be so. "Ah, yeah. Radek and I've been doing some calculations, and we can stay down here quite a bit. By some judicious re-engineering, we can even stay here and use the stargate."

"Good. What's happening . . ." He gestured up, meaning out there.

"Our friends are still hanging around, but fewer of them." Rodney shrugged. "Maybe they'll give up."

"Or maybe we'll live under water for a while." He suddenly thought of something. "You okay? With the whole under water thing?"

Rodney shrugged again, but didn't meet John's eyes. "It's okay. Better than the alternative." He looked at John again. "That was a good idea," he said, and John felt a rush of pride. Rodney didn't give many compliments, and never without a qualification.

"You helped," he finally said. "I was getting tired, and you have the gene, too."

"Not like you do, but yeah. I helped. Even if you did bruise me for life."

"How are my favorite patients?" Biro asked cheerfully. John looked around and realized most of the people were gone, as were the cots.

"What's going on?"

"Big meeting tonight," Biro said. "Everyone's getting ready. Rodney, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to make sure the colonel is good to go. Then I prescribe a hot meal for both of you. The mess hall is back in business; Teyla brought me a sandwich not too long ago, and a strawberry milkshake."

John's stomach rumbled loudly.

Rodney awkwardly patted John's arm. "I'll just, uh, wait outside. And then we'll eat. If that's okay."

"It's okay," John said.

Biro let John go with a warning not to overdo, and the threat that she'd already sicced Lorne and Elizabeth on him. Rodney and he walked through the darkened corridors, passing dozens of people. "We moved folks closer in," Rodney explained. "The water is appallingly cold at this depth, so we're trying to use body heat to complement and economize the naquadah generators. Also, Lorne felt it was safer, and I admit that it feels safer. So lots of people are doubling up. Lorne's been busy working out new schedules to keep everyone busy and out of trouble."

John nodded. "He does good work," he said, and then they'd reached the mess. The noise was overwhelming, and John realized it was a celebration. For being alive, he supposed; for beating terrible odds.

He and Rodney got through the line quickly, loading their trays with soup and sandwiches. They stood looking for a free spot and John saw Teyla wave at them. She rose when they reached her corner table and, when he'd set down his tray, took his hands. He bowed, closing his eyes, and rested his forehead against hers. Then Ronon grabbed him and lifted him up, making him laugh, while Teyla and Rodney hugged.

When they finally sat, Rodney wiped his eyes with a napkin and said with enormous dignity, "I have to admit, I never thought we'd do this again."

"John," Ronon said, smiling at him, and Teyla patted his hand.

"We're not out of it yet," he said, but he couldn't help smiling back at his teammates.

"Eat," Rodney said. "Or I'll tell Biro on you."

In the weeks that followed their submersion, they grew accustomed to living under water, or at least familiar with the requirements. Rodney, Zelenka, and their teams were able to re-configure the ZPM so they could both maintain the shield and open their stargate.

"So now what?" Rodney asked John, flopping into the plastic chair next to his bed in the infirmary. "You gonna lie around forever?"

"Doc says I'll be out later today, or maybe tomorrow. Why? You miss me?"

Rodney made a face but didn't deny it. They sat in easy silence for a while, then Rodney fiddled with his earpiece and said, "Do you ever hear music? Over the intercom?"

John raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Rodney slumped back, scooting his butt toward the edge of the chair seat. "No, of course not, only the crazy physicist. Jerk."

"I didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to." He sighed dramatically.

John said, "Now that you mention it." Rodney glared at him. "Yeah, not clear, just -- not even sure it's music."

Rodney nodded, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah. Distant. Not anything I recognize."

"You ask anyone else?"

"Do I look that stupid? Of course not. But sometimes . . ."

John had heard, or thought he'd heard, or dreamt he'd heard music over the intercom. Faintly, and he wasn't sure it was music. Soft noise. "You hear it now?"

"Not now, but a while ago." Rodney sighed, put upon. "You think we're crazy?"

"We live in another galaxy in a city on the bottom of an alien ocean. What's crazy anyway? Could it be the whales? Did they come back to check up on us?"

Rodney shook his head. "First thing I thought of. But we're not getting headaches, at least, I'm not; are you?

"No. It's not like that. Just." They both sighed.

Rodney waggled his head, and jumped up. "Back to the labs. Get out soon. I've got some cool stuff to show you."

"Yeah? What? Rodney!"

Rodney backed out of the infirmary, bumping into the doorframe, giving John a thumbs up. "You wanna piece of it? Come to the lab." He disappeared.

John grinned and shook his head, then put his hand over his eyes. He still ached, not that he'd admit that to Rodney. Biro said he was sensitive to the depth of water they lived at, that using the gate and suddenly popping into the upper atmosphere from so far beneath the ocean, was causing decompression sickness despite the pressurization of the puddlejumpers. Lorne experienced it as well, but milder. "You fly more often," Biro had told John, "and frankly, you're older."

He twisted his wrist, easing the pain there, and rubbed his forehead again. They'd have to do something or all their pilots would be grounded. Well, he couldn't solve that problem tonight. He tried to settle back and rest, but he ached too much. He wished Rodney had stayed a while longer.

Bored, he fit his earpiece on, mic off, volume low, and let the chatter wash over him. Background noise: Bischoff and Maslow checking in with each other as they walked the shield's perimeter; Chuck doing a sound check in the control room; Simpson requesting Mendelsund look into what was hammering the server, why the hell was it so slow? John drifted; he found their voices comforting and familiar; their voices were home now. He could recognize every voice in Atlantis. He'd wake a bit when he heard Rodney, then sink back into a light doze.

He surfaced much later, when it was dark, and realized he'd been hearing the music that Rodney had asked about. Not real music; not Johnny Cash or Mozart or Led Zeppelin, but something soft and soothing, like a breeze through leaves, or a musical brook. He listened harder, but it had gone. The channels were silent. Everyone was asleep.

He adjusted his earpiece, sipped some water, and settled back. The infirmary was dark now, and his head didn't throb anymore. He felt bruised and empty, but not aching. He closed his eyes, and let sleep tug him under, back into the depths of Atlantis.

Somewhere, something sang.

By mid-day, Biro let him leave with a promise to return before bed, to sleep at least seven hours that night, and to keep hydrated. If he obeyed and his tests came back clean in the morning, she'd clear him for duty. He escaped to his quarters for a long steamy shower, and then made his way to the labs. He could hear Rodney's voice the moment the transporter doors whisked open, not shouting, but loud and cheerful.

"Good work," Rodney was saying by the time John reached the doors. "Could have been quicker, there certainly should have been less confusion, but on the whole, good job. Now, let's cross that off the whiteboard and start on the next problem."

"Colonel," Radek greeted him, and Rodney turned, grinning.

"Is this an escape, or did they let you go?"

"I'm cleared," John said, exaggerating.

"Excellent." Rodney clapped his hands. "Simpson!"

"Right here, Rodney." Simpson tossed her hair back and smiled at John as she turned her laptop to face him. "We found something in the database that should help."

John peered at the monitor, coming closer. Rodney jostled him and pointed, smudging the screen. "Right there, see? It's an algorithm to determine air pressure, percent of oxygen in the atmosphere, duration of flight, rate of air consumption, and a half-dozen other factors that contribute to DCS."

"The Ancients got the bends?" John asked. Both Simpson and Rodney nodded.

"Turns out it was well known. They called it barotrauma. And they had a way to prevent it," Simpson said.

Rodney pointed to Zelenka, who said, "I've installed it on Jumper One. The computer already had the algorithm, but it needed to be applied. Now that we live under water, well, I did."

"So no more bends?" John asked, looking at the eager faces around him.

"Shouldn't be," Rodney confirmed. "At least, as long as you don't do stupid things. And you do have to stay in the jumper for a period afterwards. The program will tell you how long."

"The best thing would be not to jump directly into the upper atmosphere," Simpson told him. "Jump to other planet surfaces, where the pressure differential is negligible. You'll still have to spend some time in the jumper, but you should be all right."

"We think," Zelenka added.

John was touched by their delight in solving his problem. "Thanks," he finally said. Zelenka and Simpson smiled at him; Rodney beamed and rocked on his heels. He didn't often show his pleasure at other people's work so directly, and the entire lab felt lighter.

The DCS algorithm worked, but only to a degree, and all the pilots fretted at having to sit in the jumper waiting for the pressurization to change. "It's okay for trade and recon," Lorne said at once meeting, "but we're gonna have a rescue mission one of these days."

"So far we've been lucky," John agreed, and then wondered how living on the bottom of an ocean on a planet under twenty-four hour siege from the Wraith could be considered lucky. "Something needs to change," he added, and the other pilots nodded.

"So what's happening out there?" John asked Chuck one day, scooting his chair closer.

Chuck pointed at the monitors. "More than ever. They work in shifts. Go off to feed, I suppose, and then come back."

"Like vultures," John murmured, and Chuck nodded. They both stared at the monitor for a while; as they watched, the symbol for another Wraith ship appeared on the screen. "Shit."

"My thought exactly," Chuck said. "I don't think they're ever going to give up. It's been three months now."

Three months and four days, John thought. He agreed with Chuck. Initially, he'd been convinced that the Wraith would lose interest, but now he thought they'd simply made this planet their home base. They lived in those monstrous ships: lived, reproduced, died, and fed on stored victims. They had no reason to leave.

John sighed heavily, and rose. He found Elizabeth in her office, Lorne sitting with her discussing supplies. They were both pale and tired looking. He sat heavily in his usual chair beneath one of the long masks on Elizabeth's wall. "They're not going to go away," he said abruptly.

Elizabeth and Lorne exchanged looks, then Elizabeth said, "I don't think so, either."

Lorne said, "I've been talking to the biologists and botanists. We really can't stay down here forever. Not and remain in good health. And what's the point? Why are we here? To explore, to find trade partners, to find weapons to use against the Wraith, which is pretty damn difficult to do right now."

Elizabeth said, "John, please shut the door." When it had slid closed she said, "Frankly, I don't want to stay here. It's lovely, yes, but I'm not the only one aching for natural sunlight and a breath of fresh air. Even if it were physically safe to remain here, emotionally all of us need to escape. Kate Heightmeyer came to me yesterday; she's concerned about several people she's seeing."

John said clearly, "I don't want to desert Atlantis."

"None of us do," Elizabeth said.

Lorne nodded vigorously. "We wouldn't be giving it up. We'd leave it safe, running on minimal energy, the way it was when we first arrived. Better than the way it was. And we'll come back if the Wraith ever leave."

"If," John said. His stomach roiled, and his mouth tasted sour. "Fuck."

"I know," Elizabeth said softly. "I agree. But --"

"Yeah, I get it." John stood up.

"I've called a meeting tomorrow afternoon, with all department heads. But my decision is made. We'll meet to discuss where to go, when, and how."

"Am I free to go?" John asked, knowing he sounded like a jerk.

Lorne raised his eyebrows, but Elizabeth just nodded.

He headed first toward the balcony where he and Rodney used to watch the whales. The rules he'd come up with forbid people from leaving the city proper, but he was pretty sure the shield would hold long enough for him to think this through.

What he didn't expect was to find Rodney there, gripping the railings and staring out into the dark water. John stood next to him, not willing to say anything yet. He knew Rodney would say everything that needed to be said.

But he didn't. Not at first. They stood there a long time. John realized he could hear something: the blood beating in his ears, the pressure they were under so far beneath the surface, the water moving against the shield, and something else he couldn't identify. "Are those whales?" he asked, breaking their silence.

Rodney slowly shook his head. "I didn't see any on the life signs scanner. I'm not sure what it is." He glanced at John for the first time and then away, back into the dark water. "Atlantis?"

John listened intently, closing his eyes. He could hear Rodney breathing, the slippy sounds their clothes made when they shifted, a deep rumble that was probably from engines in Atlantis, and that something else. "Maybe," he said at last, opening his eyes to find Rodney studying him.

"We have to leave," Rodney said.

"Yeah. Elizabeth and Lorne told me."

"Some of my people are getting sick. One of Radek's engineers is going a bit loopy from claustrophobia, though how you suffer from claustrophobia in a city this size I can't imagine. Food is a problem. And of course, you're getting sicker."

"I'm not," John started, but Rodney barreled on.

"You are. Even restricting yourself to planet-bound gates is a problem. Biro says it's probably the gene that's made you so sensitive."

"Look, I've flown everything on Earth, at every altitude. It's not --"

"It is," Rodney insisted, but his voice was unusually gentle. "Look at you. You're thinner than ever, you're white as a ghost, even your hair is flat. It's different here. Everything is different. We're in another galaxy."

John shook his head, but didn't disagree. They were in another galaxy, and everything was different; Rodney was right about that. "There's a meeting tomorrow afternoon," John said.

"Yeah. We should go to the planet where we left the Athosians when the Ancients took over the city. That's plain enough. Start over there."

"And this?" John gestured around them. "The city? The database? The technology? Just leave it moldering at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Of course not. The gate will still work. And we'll take everything we can."

"You seem pretty cool with this."

"Don't be an ass. I've never been cool a day in my life, and I'm not going to start now. I'm so pissed I think my head's going to explode. But right now, we need to get the fuck out of Dodge."

John's eyebrows rose, but he suddenly agreed with Rodney. He was pissed, yeah, majorly pissed, and irrationally angry at Elizabeth and Lorne, as if it were their fault they had to leave, but now that he heard Rodney say it, he knew they were right. It was time to leave.

He sighed and looked around. He loved Atlantis, even stuck at the bottom of the ocean, even when threatened by the Wraith. They all did, and maybe especially when threatened by the Wraith. A city this beautiful, built with love and insight, a city that spoke to John with gently glowing lights and warm floors and walls -- how could he not love living here? Here was home in a way Earth had never been. Even the inhabitants without the gene, and for whom the gene-therapy hadn't worked, loved Atlantis.

John remembered lying in the infirmary listening to the voices in the city, how he knew each and every one, the sound of every person's footstep, where they preferred to sit in the mess hall or in a jumper. Maybe the city wasn't just the city. Maybe the city was its inhabitants.

And he'd still have the people, John reminded himself. They would leave the city, but take the inhabitants, someday to return. Next year in Jerusalem.

John sighed, and slapped Rodney's back. "Let's get started. Need to be prepared for tomorrow's meeting."

The department heads all felt under careful scrutiny as they gathered in Elizabeth's office. She had provided thermoses of tea and juice, as if this were a normal business meeting, but the atmosphere was far more tense.

Teyla sat quietly at Elizabeth's right hand. On the other side of Elizabeth was Evan. The three of them had met late into the prior night, and Teyla was exhausted.

She was also exhilarated. She would be with her people again. As much as she loved Atlantis, she ached to be among her own kind. Halling and Jinto would welcome her and the few Athosians who had remained in Atlantis, and for a while she could put down the burden of leadership. She knew how much Elizabeth, John, Rodney, and Evan looked to her for guidance and advice, and she was honored that they did. But she was so tired.

To her surprise, John did not argue against the decision to leave. She had been prepared for something ugly, and dreading it; she loved John and did not wish to contradict him. He kept so much to himself, but she knew him by now, knew how powerfully he felt about Atlantis and the people who lived there.

Instead, he shocked her by opening the meeting. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, and sat back in her chair, clearly surprised. Evan grinned at her, and winked at Teyla.

"As much as I don't want to do this," John concluded, "I don't see an alternative. Back to our Athosian friends with as much technology as we can carry."

Rodney said, "I've made a plan and schedule. Here," he stabbed at his laptop, "I just sent you all an email with the attachments. We'll have to make several trips just for the science equipment and computers we'll need, the naquadah generators." He shook his head. "It'll be a big job, and we need to get started. It's autumn where the Athosians are. We should get situated before winter comes."

The room was silent for a moment; Teyla was pained by Rodney's world-weary pragmatism. She glanced at her hands folded on the table in front of her. She felt similarly. She'd been uprooted so often in the last few years: from Athos, to Atlantis, to the mainland, and now to this new world her people were settling. But unlike the Atlantians or the Ancients, she had never had the luxury of a long history in one place.

She looked at John and Rodney, sitting side-by-side, their faces calm but their bodies tensed, prepared for any disagreement. They, too, had learned not to trust the present. Everything changed, and would change again.

After an awkward silence, Teyla said, "I agree. I wish to rejoin my people, and you all are welcome there. Together we can build a new world. We have lived for many generations in fear of the Wraith, and will live many more. Let us join forces and face the future."

She felt Ronon stir next to her and turned to look at him.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's get out of here. Back on land, with a gate. McKay and Zelenka can build us a shield."

John and Rodney glanced at each other. John nodded, pursing his lips. Rodney leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Teyla watched them, watched the others. Elizabeth had returned to her usual calm demeanor. Evan wore his usual sly grin. Radek looked worried, Biro intrigued, Parrish puzzled, and Teyla -- Teyla felt a release, as if she had already ascended from the depths of this strange ocean.

Elizabeth leaned forward. "I'm . . . I'm pleasantly surprised by this direction you've taken. I thought there would be greater disagreement. We would be, in a sense, deserting Atlantis."

"Not really," John said. "The city will be safe here, safer than before in some ways. And we'll come back."

Beside him, Rodney nodded vigorously in agreement. Teyla smiled to herself. She was glad they were here, and dreaded the day they would return to their own galaxy. They had been forced back twice, and she had missed them so much. But for a while, at least, they would remain with her.

The meeting took a long time; there was much to plan and much to consider, but once the decision was made, everyone appeared satisfied. "We're not really leaving," she overheard more than one person say, and she hoped it was true.

She looked around her quarters in Atlantis for the last time. She had brought many things here over the years: fabrics for the windows and walls, pillows, throw rugs for decoration and warmth, but also little treasures from her childhood. Her mother's candlesticks. Her father's batons. A bowl from Charin. Evan had sent several trunks for her to use; they were nearly half full. She was folding her bedclothes when the door chimed. She would miss doors that opened with a wave of her hand, she thought, and then Ronon stood there, shyly smiling at her.

"Need help?"

"Ah, not --" but the look in his eye changed her mind. "Would you help me fold these small enough to fit?"

"I can do that." And he could, folding the bedding neatly and tightly together.

They worked in silence for a few minutes and then Teyla, shutting and locking another of the trunks, said, "What will you do, Ronon? Where will you go?"

His silence was a weight in the room. She raised her head and they stared at each other. She thought she could hear something, breathy like a sigh, a musical sigh, and then she rose to stand before him, tilting her head to meet his eyes. "What do you want?" she whispered.

"Teyla," he started, and held out his hands to her. She thought about where he'd grown up, in that enormous city, so different from the fields and forests of Athos, and of his years alone running from the Wraith. And now here he was, reaching out to her.

She took his hands. He bent over and kissed hers, sweetly, and then said, "Teyla Emmagan, will you carry my heart? Will you carry my love? Will you carry my child? Will you carry my life?"

Teyla did not know the phrasing, but she understood the meaning. She had wondered if anyone would ever speak to her thus, and now, deep below an ocean, a stranger from another world had.

"You are a good man, Ronon. Honest, hard-working, kind, and with a sense of humor." He looked disappointed; she shook her head. "You misunderstand me." She looked around, then wrapped a wall hanging around her shoulders. She took his hands again and said, "I come to you with a shawl, for comfort. I come to you with a stone, for strength. I come to you with honey, for sustenance. I come to you with a basket, for children."

He stared at her, his eyes soft and glistening, his mouth slightly open. She could hear him breathing, as if he'd run a long way to reach this moment. Her own heart was racing as she waited for his response.

Ronon slid his hands around her waist, still staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, and lifted her. She let the makeshift shawl drop and wrapped her arms and legs around him. They teased each other, touching noses, and foreheads, and then he whispered into her ear, "I will care for you always, Teyla-na." She shivered at his warm breath and the promise.

"And I will care for you always, dear one," she promised. They kissed, gently at first, but Teyla realized that Ronon had wanted this for a long time, and that she had as well, that she'd been waiting for him to grow into this person and not the violent runner he'd been when they met.

He was tender with her, touching her, kissing her, and she was fierce with him knowing that she could not hurt him and that he would not hurt her. They lay on her bed, stroking each other's bodies, kissing, sweating in their excitement. Teyla thought about the future stretching before them, a dark void, but Ronon's voice was in her ear, his hands on her breasts and hips, and she wanted him, wanted this.

When they lay gasping, still clinging to each other, Teyla said, "When we are again settled, will you give me a child?" Her heart thudded and her mouth was dry; how could she bring a child into a galaxy of such uncertainty and danger?

Ronon stroked her face, kissing her gently. "I would be honored."

She and Ronon went ahead to the Athosians, to ask for refuge for the Atlantians. Never had Teyla felt as handsome nor Ronon as proud as they did standing beside each other in the gate room. They kept trading glances and secret smiles until Rodney said, "For god's sake, go," so they went.

Teyla had been to the new settlement only a few times, but it had already begun to look familiar. Tents and tent-roofed small buildings had appeared in the traditional pattern: a communal hall, the women's tent, the young men's tent, and then the spiral of individual tents. Halling and Jinto rushed out to meet them, smiling broadly.

"You look different, my friend," Halling said, bending to greet her. "More beautiful than ever."

"Thank you," she said, and greeted Jinto while Ronon and Halling spoke. "You have done much here."

He nodded, and looked around. "I think we will stay here for a while. We are far enough from the gate for warning, with deep woods in which to hide our homes."

"I wish you prosperity and growth," she said. "I also have a favor to ask. Atlantis needs our assistance. We have been under siege from the Wraith; they remain and have forced Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay to submerge the city."

Halling looked away from them, back toward the settlement. "I am sorry to learn this."

"They wish to settle here, among our people."

Halling sighed deeply. "There is much to discuss, Teyla, Ronon. Please come with me. Jinto, ask the elders to come. We need all wisdom."

Jinto sprinted off, looking worried. As Teyla, Ronon, and Halling walked toward the communal tent, Teyla said, "I do not understand. I assumed the Atlantians would be welcome here. They have done so much to assist us."

"Have they? Think about it, Teyla. They woke the Wraith. They brought those monsters out of hibernation decades before they would have come. Think how much safer we could have been had we been given that time to prepare."

"Halling, it was an accident. You know as well as I do that Colonel Sheppard --"

"I know that Colonel Sheppard is a good friend to you. I know they have welcomed you into their world. But have they ever shown interest in ours? In our lives, our ways of surviving? Don't you find it odd that they never ask the advice of the people who have lived with the threat of the Wraith, but instead assume they know best?"

Teyla had no answer. She glanced at Ronon, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. They had both seen the Atlantians make unwise decisions and act impetuously. She sighed. "I cannot deny what you say, but the story is larger than that. They must leave Atlantis in order to save it. Where else should they go but to us?"

"We will discuss this with the others," Halling said firmly.

Teyla's people were very different from Ronon's. He was accustomed to a bureaucracy not unlike the Atlantians, and he was used to obeying a single leader. He had given his allegiance to Sheppard and saw no reason to change his loyalties now. But he did admit to himself that Halling and the elders had a good argument. He himself had occasionally scolded John for some of his decisions. Despite living in fear of the Wraith for three years, they still seemed to view the Wraith as human. He'd learned that Earth was divided into peoples continually at war with each other, yet they still believed that enduring peace could be achieved. That, he thought, was why Sheppard didn't understand that there could be no treaty with the Wraith. They were not the enemies he was familiar with, but he persisted in viewing them that way.

Ronon dreaded returning to Atlantis with the news that they would not be welcome in the new settlement. As much as he sympathized with the Athosians, he believed even more in loyalty, and he remained loyal to the Atlantians, and to John.

When the argument had gone on far too long, with only Teyla speaking on behalf of the Atlantians, he finally interrupted them. "That's enough." He took Teyla's cold hand and looked kindly at her. "They don't want us here. That's all we need to know. We'll find another place. Another home."

He could see the hurt in her eyes and feel her disappointment, so he wasn't surprised when she slowly nodded. They both rose. Teyla looked around at her friends and bowed deeply to them. "Thank you," she said. "We will bother you no more."

"Teyla," several of the elders began, and two stood to plead with her.

"No, I understand. I am disappointed, but I understand. I will stay in touch with you, of course. I wish you a good harvest this year."

Halling looked sadly at them both. "Before you go," he said, standing. Ronon wasn't used to people taller than he and it made him tense up. Halling raised his hands. "My blessings on you. I wish you long lives and many children. You are part of us, and welcome any time."

Ronon said, "Thanks. Maybe," and walked Teyla out of the tent. When they were near the stargate, he asked, "You all right?"

"Disappointed. Ashamed."

"Don't be. They're not you. They don't know what you do."

"I should have been able to persuade them."

"Can't think about that now." Almost shyly, he took her hand, enjoying her brilliant smile in response.

The Atlantians didn't take the news well, Ronon thought, pursing his lips. Rodney sputtered, "After all we've done! I can't believe -- Halling really said no? Just like that, no? Teyla, are you sure?"

"Yes, Rodney, I am sure. I am very sorry, but it is no longer my decision."

"Well, that's gratitude for you."

"McKay," Ronon snapped. "What's done is done. Get on with it."

"Yes, well. Of course." Rodney straightened his back, and looked at John.

"Then it's the Alpha Site," John said, scratching his neck. "That's what it's there for. It's just not --." He stopped abruptly.

Home, Ronon thought. John thinks of the Athosians as part of his family. He nodded approvingly.

"All right then," Elizabeth said, looking determinedly cheerful. "Only a slight change of plans and, as the colonel says, that's what the Alpha Site was designed for." She looked around, pausing on everyone's face, including Ronon's. "What are you standing around for? Let's go!"

People went, including Ronon to help carry supplies through the gate. He'd been to the Alpha Site several times and it wasn't bad. Nothing like where the Athosians were, but they could make something of it. He'd see to that. He'd build a home for Teyla and him.

Chuck said, "Twenty-six minutes left, ma'am." He looked at Dr. Weir. She looked haggard with exhaustion and fear, and Chuck felt the same way. They'd all been up for almost forty-eight hours now. Chuck hadn't had time to pack a thing; he'd spent the entire time in the control room, monitoring the stargate. His shift was long over, but he was determined to be the last one out. He'd been recruited by the SGC for his navigational skills, where he'd trained with Sergeant Harriman. Though he hadn't been part of the crew in Antarctica, he felt part of the Atlantis family, and he'd get them through this.

Another group began going through the gate; these seemed to be primarily the medical teams with Marines helping them with equipment. They really were evacuating Atlantis. He rubbed his eyes.

"Sergeant." He looked up to see Colonel Sheppard watching him. "I don't believe this is your watch."

"No, sir. It's actually Sergeant Walters', but he's good friends with Joanie Wentz, the marine biologist, so I told him to help her. She was pretty upset about having to leave her research subjects behind."

Sheppard nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant. You okay to be working?"

"Yes, sir. Absolutely. If anyone's going to do this, I will."

Sheppard almost smiled at that. His face softened and he nodded again. "I understand. Don't hesitate to switch off with someone if you need to."

"Yes, sir. I mean, I will, sir."

Sheppard drifted away, heading toward the labs; Chuck could see in his gait how tired he was, too. Tired and disappointed. They all were. This was home, their floating and flying city, and they had to leave it behind for who knew how long.

"Shit," Chuck muttered, and checked his chronometer. Seventeen minutes left till the wormhole closed and he'd have to re-dial. At ten minutes, he made an announcement, and another at five, then three, two, and he cleared the room at one. The wormhole collapsed and the impossible blue of infinity disappeared. He sighed and dialed again.

Getting just under three hundred people through the gate wasn't the problem, he thought, trying to figure how long this would take. It was getting all the equipment through. There was no real reason it had to be done all at once, but a feeling of urgency had spread through the city, infecting even Chuck.

When he next dialed and made contact, he switched places with Sergeant Cisneros and went to find Dr. Weir. She was meeting with Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka in her office; all three looked ready to drop.

"Ma'am?" he said. "Sorry to interrupt, but may I say something?"

Three faces turned toward him; Zelenka yawned hugely, triggering a yawn in Chuck. "Excuse me," he said, embarrassed. "But ma'am, is there a reason this needs to be done all at once? Shouldn't we go through with what we have and rest? I'm afraid people are too tired to do their best work." He thought that was a pretty diplomatic way to say they were stupid with exhaustion.

Dr. Weir sighed. "We were just discussing that, Chuck. As much as I want this evacuation done, I'm afraid you're right." She looked at the other two men. "I'm shutting this down. The next group to go through stays there. We'll start up again in twelve hours."

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne said, and looked at Chuck, who followed him back to the console. Dr. Zelenka stayed with Weir; Chuck glanced back at them and was shocked to see him embrace her. He turned back to Lorne.

"Good thinking, Sergeant," Lorne said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm about ready to drop myself. Make the announcement. I'll get to the labs and let the department heads know. They'll probably be furious until they fall asleep on their laptops."

"Probably," Chuck agreed. Rather than use the PA system, Chuck walked into the mix below, catching hold of people. "Hey, hey," he called. "Got an announcement." They gathered around him, and he saw that several people were crying. He sighed. "You'll be the last group through tonight," he started, but Dr. Lindermann said, "No, no, I have more equipment that must come."

"You can get it tomorrow, but Doctor Weir wants everyone to rest for twelve hours. You can rest here or there, just let me know so I can keep the tally straight, but when this wormhole closes down, that's it."

Lindermann wiped her eyes and turned away from him. He remembered that she'd been studying the database. No wonder she didn't want to leave anything behind. Chuck understood the value of what was being deserted. He loved the city and everything in it. Even though the gene therapy hadn't taken with him, he still felt more at home here than anywhere in the Milky Way galaxy.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "And you know the plan is to return regularly. The Wraith will leave someday, or we'll find a way to defeat them."

"When?" Lindermann asked sharply, and then shook her head. "I am sorry, Chuck. I am sorry, but I do not believe we will ever have the resources to defeat them. We can only smuggle out little bits of the city." She shook her head again, more vigorously, and put her hand to her face.

Cindy Tso from Facilities put her arm around Lindermann. "Come on, Antje. Tomorrow is another day." She looked apologetically at Chuck, though what Cindy had to apologize for he didn't know, and the group slowly dispersed, most through the gate, but a few back to their labs or quarters.

He sighed and put his hands on his hips, watching as the gateroom cleared. Soon he was the only one in the glow of the event horizon. As he watched, it collapsed, and the room was silent and dark.

Chuck slept in the gateroom, his earpiece still on. He should pack, but he realized he didn't care much about the stuff in his quarters. He'd already moved once, when they first submerged, and was bunking with two other men, another Canadian and a German, so there hadn't been much room. Other than his clothing, his weapons, a few books, and some photos, he could walk away free. All he would miss was Atlantis.

Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay woke him, talking quietly above him. He rolled onto his back and watched in the dim light. He realized they didn't know he was there, and almost called out to them, but curiosity stopped him.

"So fucking shitty," McKay said, and Sheppard shushed him, putting a hand on McKay's arm.

"I know," was all he said.

"It's just I should be able to figure something out. Zelenka and I are the two brightest minds in two galaxies; why can't we stop this?"

"Rodney, it's not brains we need, it's power. If we had enough power, Atlantis could take care of this herself."

"Then we should have looked harder, and more often, instead of all those stupid trading missions."

"We needed food. Still do, now that the Daedalus is gone. There's no right answer, okay? Just, give it a rest."

McKay heaved an irritable sigh but said nothing more. Chuck watched their silhouettes in the half-life of the monitors and consoles. Sheppard had left his hand on McKay's arm, and now McKay slumped against him. "I'm so fucking disappointed in myself."

Chuck couldn't hear Sheppard's response, just the soft buzz of his words into McKay's ear. They stood side-by-side for a long time before Sheppard nudged McKay. "Bed time," he said, and tugged on Rodney's vest, dragging him away. "Tomorrow's a busy day."

"Fuck you," McKay growled.

"Only in your dreams, Batman."

Chuck smiled to himself as they drifted away, their voices grower softer. Lucky McKay, to work with someone as understanding as the colonel. Chuck had heard about McKay from Harriman at the SGC, and his own experiences with the man validated the rumors of his crankiness and impatience. But no one, least of all Chuck, would dispute his brilliance, and he knew that if anyone could defeat the Wraith without a ZPM, it would have been McKay. Too bad McKay didn't know that.

He woke again when the stargate exploded into activity. It was Sergeant Stackhouse's IDC, so he dropped the shield. Stackhouse and two others came through, looking anxiously around the darkened room.

"It's been over twelve hours," Stackhouse said, staring down at Chuck in his cot. "Where the fuck is everybody?"

"Um," Chuck started, and then checked his watch. "No, it's been, well, okay, it's been eleven hours, but that's not twelve."

"Bullshit," Stackhouse said, but Chuck wasn't up to trying to figure out time dilations in Lorentz transformations, not after working two straight days. He sat up and said, "Okay, calm down. Get some breakfast and we'll get started."

He was sure Stackhouse said, "Motherfucker," but Chuck didn't care. He was right; it was time to get started, time to get out before anything happened. He hit the lights and started paging his colleagues.

By the time he'd pissed, washed up, and grabbed a bite from the barely-functioning mess hall, the gateroom was full again. He found McKay leaning against the railing next to Chuck's station. "Doctor McKay," he said hesitantly. "Just how far away are we going?"

McKay stared at him as if Chuck were the shit he'd stepped in. "Too fucking far," he said, and then sighed. "The other side of the galaxy. We won't even be able to see Atlantis' sun when we're there."

"Wow," Chuck said to himself. That sun that rose each morning turning the ocean's waves silver and glinting off the spires of the city -- not even visible. It was easy to forget, stepping through a stargate, the distances involved.

McKay wandered off, and Chuck was glad to see him go. He got why McKay was depressed; he wasn't thrilled, either, but they had to go. There wasn't any choice. He studied the monitors in front of him; one showed the number of Wraith hiveships overhead, and there were nearly a dozen. He looked up as if he could see them, hovering over the sunken city, ready to kill each and every one of them -- no, not just kill, to feed on. Chuck had seen the remains of people who'd been fed upon by Wraith; he'd seen the image of Colonel Sheppard when he'd been fed on. He knew it was a terrible death, one he didn't want for himself or anyone he cared about. And he cared about all these people, even Stackhouse and McKay and the crabby guy who worked in the mess hall.

He wondered what he'd find in their new home. He thought for a minute about growing up in Toronto, studying at university. He thought about his friends, his parents, his dog. He wondered whether he'd ever see any of them again and, if not, how he felt about that. At the moment, he knew he was too busy to feel much of anything except tired.

Surprising him, Dr. Weir said, "Do you think we'll get them all out today, Chuck?"

He studied her for a moment, and then said, "I think we have to, ma'am. I think we should all be together right now, and away from the Wraith. This in-between shi-- this in-between stuff is killing everyone."

"This in-between shit is killing everyone," she agreed sadly. "It's killing me. All right. Today's the day. What we don't get today we'll come for later."

"How later, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "Do you have a suggestion?"

He bit his lip, but she genuinely seemed to want to know, so he told her. "Not until we're settled into the new place. Coming back will be hard. It'll be less upsetting after we have, uh, we have our lives again."

She nodded slowly, studying him. "I agree. I'll make that announcement. Put me on speaker, would you?"

He sat down and flipped the appropriate switches, then pointed at her. She sighed, raised her eyes to the stargate, and spoke.

They did start to settle into the Alpha Site. Chuck was one of the few staff who knew that the Athosians had refused them, so he couldn't help compare their current situation with what it could have been and that made it harder to consider it home. It was warm here, like Toronto in the summer, in the upper twenties, and he missed the ocean breeze as well as the air conditioning in Atlantis. He did like being outdoors again, though it was kind of a pain not having all the equipment he was used to at his fingertips.

The off-world teams began working in rotation again, working even harder to find reliable trading partners. The biologists, botanists, and agronomists put almost everyone to work, scientists and military alike. They all worked long hours and fell asleep exhausted each night.

Chuck was washing clothes when the attack came. He heard shouting from the settlement, and then the darts. He hadn't heard them often, but enough that his skin prickled and the hair on his arms stood up. He grabbed his wet, soapy clothes and ran with the others.

Colonel Sheppard was shouting orders, but Chuck already knew what to do. He flung his clothes into his tent and dashed to the control center -- it was hardened, underground, so theoretically safer -- and slid into a chair to his post, bumping into Dr. Zelenka en route.

"Sergeant, good," Zelenka said. "You see we have problem, yes? The stargate's shield is malfunctioning."

"Sabotage? Or just not working?"

"No way to know." The lights from the many monitors in front of Zelenka reflected off his glasses, showing the smudges. He looked pale in the blue light. "Colonel Sheppard and Rodney will go out to check."

"Jesus," Chuck breathed.

"And any other deities you think might take an interest in our predicament," Zelenka advised, "though I myself doubt anyone except our families do."

Chuck didn't know how to respond to that, so he logged in and began scanning the perimeters. No Wraith on the ground yet, nor did he see the signature of their scoopy beam, but too much of their weapons. He wondered what was happening at the stargate, but he knew not to disturb them. "Two months," he murmured. "We only had two months free of them."

Zelenka nodded, and then pointed. "There they are, Rodney and the colonel and Ronon."

Chuck studied the life-signs detector. Just three humans against all those Wraith. Then he heard Lorne's voice, and he went to work, guiding the remaining pilots out of the fire and to give cover to those who needed it. He wished there was video so he could watch what was happening. Instead, he had to be satisfied with the dots moving on the life-signs detector and the energy signatures on his computers.

"They're separating," Zelenka said, and Chuck rolled closer to him, to stare with him into the monitor. "That must be the colonel. Rodney will kill him if he gets himself killed."

"If only we could see," Chuck murmured.

"No, no," Zelenka said. "This is bad enough. Let them do what they must out there. Our job is here."

"They also serve who only watch and wait," Elizabeth said, coming to peer over their shoulders.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck said, but he didn't move. They watched, and they waited, and they wondered what John and Rodney and Ronon were doing.

"We can't stay here!" Ronon shouted, grabbing Rodney by the arm and swinging him around. "It's too dangerous!" They ducked and hid beneath an outcropping of rock on the hill; even below cover, they could hear the darts screaming through the sky, their evil sound enraging Ronon.

"Look, you want me to stop this? We've got to get to the gate," Rodney shouted over the noise.

"Can't give you cover," Ronon said, firing steadily. "Shoot."

"Oh, like that will really help," Rodney said, but he'd improved a lot and the firepower of the P-90 was very forgiving. Ronon saw him shred the tail of one dart, and explode the windscreen of another.

"John!" he shouted into his mic. "John, what's your position?"

Rodney's eyes widened when there was no answer. "Oh, god," he murmured, and fired again, less successfully.

"Okay, how near to the gate do you have to be?" Ronon asked him.

"I don't know. I mean, it depends on what's wrong. Maybe . . ." He pulled out his tablet and tried to juggle it with his weapon. Ronon flicked the P-90 to safety and took it from him. "Thanks." He punched buttons, amazing Ronon how quickly Rodney could work despite his big fingers. "I think, maybe, if we're lucky --"

"Ronon? Rodney?" John's voice came over the headset.

"John! Where are you?"

"I made it to the gate. I'm kind of crouched under it. Is there anything I can do here?"

"Hide," Rodney said, his voice cracking. "Hide, John."

"I'll be here if you need me."

"Shit," Rodney said, and poked even faster at the tablet. Suddenly he looked up. "What are you doing here? Go out there and shoot things that might see him!"

Ronon slapped Rodney on the shoulder and grinned at him. Ducking, he backed away, keeping below the overhang, and worked his way toward the gate. When he saw John, he fired once, and got a brief wave in return.

"Ronon, can you get to the DHD?"

Ronon shouted into his mic, "John! Cover me!" He sank into the grass and squirmed on his belly through it. This was pure luck; no skill could save him out in the open like this. He could hear John firing, and then Rodney, and suddenly drones glowed in the air, forcing the darts to veer away. Lorne and the others must have brought in cloaked jumpers; about time. "I'm here -- there's a crystal on the ground!"

Listening to Rodney scream instructions into his ear, Ronon slapped open the cover and slid in the crystal. "Now!" he shouted.

"It's closing!" Ronon heard John say. "Lorne! They're trapped."

"We're on it, sir," Lorne said, his voice tense, and then a dart slammed into the shielded gate and exploded.

"Ronon!" he heard Teyla shout, but everything was on fire and it was too hot to breathe. Darts screamed overhead, firing at everything before rising into the sky, chased by drones and tracer fire. Ronon shut his eyes against the heat and wondered how long he could stay there. Suddenly he heard a voice calling his name, over the air, not through the mic, and he looked up into the back of a jumper. He threw himself in and despite the inertial dampeners, felt the jumper soar away. He looked over his shoulder through the open hatch and saw fire raging around the DHD.

"Sheppard?" he asked anyone.

"Right here," he heard, and John sat next to him on the floor. "Stackhouse got me first."

"Not fair," Ronon mumbled, closing his eyes again.

"Life ain't," John agreed.

In camp, they counted their losses while Rodney raged. "We cannot stay here. They know where we are. They don't need a gate; they've got hive ships. We need to go!"

"We know, Rodney," John said, putting a bandaged hand on Rodney's shoulder. Rodney closed his eyes and shuddered.

"We're in agreement," Elizabeth said. Everyone was there, the entire remaining members of the expedition crowded into the control center, which had become their infirmary as well. "The question is: where do we go now?"

"I could ask my people again," Teyla started, but Elizabeth shook her head.

"Thanks all the same, Teyla," John said, "but I don't think so."

Everyone began talking at once, mostly nonsense, Ronon thought. His head still ached and his throat was sore from smoke inhalation; he didn't have anything to add, anyway.

The noise went on for a long time, Elizabeth calling for order. Teyla clung to Ronon in a way she never had before, and he understood how frightened she'd been for him. That's what love does: makes you scared. But it makes you strong, too.

Chuck got on the PA. "Can I have your attention? Everyone, please quiet down." His amplified voice startled everyone into a moment's silence.

"Thank you, Chuck," Elizabeth said with great dignity.

"Sorry, Doctor Weir, but you, too." Her eyes widened, but she nodded at him.

He set down the microphone and stood up. "Um, I've been checking the database and have a suggestion. M1K-439."

"What? The one with all the waterfalls?" Rodney asked. "We don't have anything there. No secondary base, no supplies, no allies. There's nothing there but waterfalls."

"That's my point," Chuck said. He licked his lips nervously.

"Colonel?" Elizabeth asked.

Sheppard studied Chuck closely, then looked at Lorne, who nodded. "The Wraith have no reason to think we'd go there. I think it's a good idea."

"The work," McKay moaned, but Sheppard clapped him on the back.

"Buck up, McKay. It's a whole new world to discover and explore."

"May I tell Halling where we'll be?" Teyla asked.

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah. Ask for help transporting our stuff, too. If they won't let us live there, the least they can do is help us move again."

"Yeah," said Lorne. "The worst that can happen is he'll say no."

"They will not say no; they will be honored to assist," she said. Chuck couldn't see how she could be so sure, but he was glad there might be more help. He sat down so quickly that his chair rolled backwards..

"Good work," Dr. Zelenka told him. "You do fine work."

"Um, thank you," he said. "I hope Doctor Weir thinks so."

Zelenka smiled at him. "Oh, I know so," he reassured Chuck, who smiled for the first time that long, dirty day.

"We should set up half a world away from the gate," Lorne said.

"Yes, yes, and build a shield for it and leave it up," Rodney said.

"Give the IDC only to our friends," Sheppard added.

"Absolutely," Lorne said. "And set up a new Alpha Site. Chuck, any suggestions?"

"No, sir, but I'll study the database some more."

Lorne nodded approvingly at Chuck, and turned to Teyla. "When you go back, I think the colonel or I should go with you."

"You go, Major," Elizabeth said. "Ronon, I assume you will wish to accompany them?"

"Yup," he said, looking at Teyla.

"We should get started," Lorne said. "I know there are still injured, but the sooner we get organized, the sooner we can get away from here."

Sheppard nodded. "Take Teyla and Ronon as soon as you're ready. Fly to the next gate; don't try to use ours. After you've met with Halling, go on to M1K-439 and scout out a suitable location. We'll get things sorted here.

"Lorne's right," Sheppard added in a louder voice. "We need to get off this rock before the hive ships arrive, and you know they're coming. Everybody who isn't injured, meet with your department head to start organizing the move."

Someone burst into tears and a number of people groaned. "Look, dammit," Sheppard said. "This is our life now. We can't get back to Earth. The Daedalus isn't going to magically rescue us. We're all the resources we have."

"Oh, that's comforting," Rodney said. "But unfortunately, the colonel is right. We'll get back to what we had, but we've got this, this interim to get through."

"Colonel, Doctor McKay," Dr. Biro said. "Let me add that this is going to be a difficult time. If any of you need help with sleeping or depression or anger management, you come see me or Doctor Heightmeyer. That's why we were sent along in the first place."

"Good idea," Elizabeth said. "I'm going to make that an order. In addition to packing, every single one of us will see a physician and meet with Kate. Hard days are ahead of us; let's be proactive about the issues we face."

Proactive, Evan thought, and raised his eyebrows. He, Teyla, and Ronon left before they had to see anybody.

"I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes," Halling said, and he did look sorry. "We will of course assist you when you are ready to begin the move."

"Thank you," Teyla said, and Evan wondered if that was the polite Athosian way to say fuck you.

"I will help," a man said, and then another, and then a woman. All three were dressed differently than the Athosians. The woman crossed her arms and stared at Halling.

"That would be great," Evan said. "We need all the help we can."

"May I speak freely?" the woman who'd volunteered said to Halling. He nodded. "You Athosians have a reputation for helping others. Why do you not help these people? You speak highly of them when they are not here."

"That's okay," Evan said hastily, not wanting an incident. "Really. No explanation needed. Some of this is our own fault."

The woman gazed at him steadily. He felt summed up and judged before she finally nodded at him and bowed. "I am Mahshoosh," she said. "Formerly of Papel, culled by the Wraith these two years ago."

"We are Qur and Moq, brothers formerly of B'bane, culled by the Wraith six months ago."

"I'm sorry," Evan said, and he meant it. He wondered if they were the only ones left of their people, like Ronon, if that's why they were with the Athosians.

"And you are?" Mahshoosh asked regally.

"Oh, sorry, yes, I'm Evan Lorne, Major Lorne, formerly of Atlantis."

She raised one eyebrow. "Atlantis."

"We're not Ancient," Evan added hastily. "Just living in the city."

"Let's go," Ronon said impatiently.

"Yeah, we should. Thank you, Halling. We'll be in touch. Right now we're scouting a location on our new world. Once we've decided, we'll be back for help."

"I will come with you," Mahshoosh said. "I would travel with the Atlantians."

"No, see, really, we're not Atlantians. Teyla is Athosian, and Ronon is Satedan."

"And you, Evan Lorne? Which culled world are you from?" she asked. Evan literally didn't know what to say. He looked at her, at a loss for words for once. At last, she said, "This does not matter. We will go now. I have my weapon."

She followed Ronon and Teyla toward the puddlejumper. Evan watched her, feeling dumbstruck.

"Go, Evan Lorne," Halling said, smiling at him. "You have a new home to build."

"Ah, yeah. Thanks. See you soon." He jogged after the others.

Evan took the puddlejumper almost half way around the new world before he would let them start looking for a place to settle. "This really is the one with all the waterfalls," he said. "We should call it Waterfall."

"This is a good world," Mahshoohs agreed. She was sitting behind him, and he could feel her intensity even when she was silent.

"Water is important, but you do not wish to be flooded," Teyla said.

"My boss'll want a beach with good surfing," Evan said. "I thought I'd skirt the coast first, look for something suitable."

They spent two days searching. Evan parked the jumper in a geosynchronous orbit each night and let the equipment map the coastal regions. The planet was very pretty, he thought, watching the swirling clouds. There were two small moons, like over Mars, traveling in a complex pattern. He wondered if they'd once been one moon now split apart.

"You say you are not an Ancestor," Mashoosh said quietly to him, "but you fly one of their machines."

"Yeah. I'm not sure how. I guess maybe I'm descended from one, ages ago."

She nodded. "Are there many of you left?"

"Not so many, no. But it's why we tried to live in Atlantis."

"The Wraith would not permit the return of the Atlantians."

"Yeah, got that," he said.

"You should live there," she said, pointing. "See? Long wide beach bordered on two sides by rivers, backed by meadows leading into heavily wooded mountains. The rivers offer more besides freshwater. See how the bottomland is darker? Good soil for your farmers."

He peered through the screen. "Tomorrow we'll check it out. Looks good from here."

She nodded. "I will do the gosete ceremony to bless your new home."

"Um, thanks. Thank you, Mahshoosh."

She gazed evenly at him. "Will you permit others to join you? There are some who are unhappy with Halling for turning your people away."

"Really?" That cheered Evan. "Yeah, sure. I mean, we always have before. We need people who know about this place." She nodded and looked back at the planet. He wondered if she would move here or stay with the Athosians. Suddenly she looked back at him, and he grinned at being caught staring at her. She smiled back.

This was a harder move, Evan thought, than the first to the Alpha Site. People were pretty demoralized, and they'd lost several in the most recent fight with the Wraith. Even with the help of the Athosians, there was a lot to do, and people were getting sick from exhaustion and depression. He thought the civilian support staff and the military had it easier than the civilian scientists; everyone knew the military code was hurry up and wait. But the beakers were anxious to get back to their work.

Because he could fly, he spent all his time commuting between the damaged Alpha Site and their new home, a trip made longer because they didn't dare use their own stargate but flew the long distance to the next one. He got tired of sitting, but occasionally he had the pleasant distraction of Mahshoosh when she helped load the supplies in the Alpha Base, where she was currently staying.

Finally the day came when he made the last flight. Mahshoosh came aboard then and sat in the passenger's seat. "Um, Mahshoosh," he started, glancing around to be sure no one could hear him.

"I am moving to Waterfall," she said.

"Oh. Oh. That's good. I'm glad. We'll be glad of people like you there."

"Will you be glad, Evan Lorne?"

He froze, feeling like a deer in headlights, and then Mahshoosh grinned at him. "Ha-ha," he managed, but gathered his courage and said, "Yeah, actually I am glad. Really glad."

"Then we are both glad."

"Glad's the word," he said, grinning to himself. He shut the hatch and took the jumper up, hovering a moment over the former Alpha Site. Good riddance, he thought, and he meant it. This time they'd do it right. They had the assistance of people who knew what they were doing, they were far from the gate, and they had lots of places to hide. Maybe now they could get back to living.

He flew off, starting the long journey to the next gate and his new life. He wondered what it meant, that he was starting this journey with Mahshoosh at his side.

Living on Waterfall, Evan often thought, must be like living in California before the Europeans discovered it. The forests were rich with game, the rivers and ocean jumping with fish and shellfish, the skies dark with birds, and the streams lined with bushes heavy with sweet berries. Atlantis had been beautiful but sterile; nothing could grow in the city but potted plants, but here, everything was lush and fertile.

At first, they tended to live on the familiar: crates of prepackaged food brought from Atlantis that had been ferried to them through the stargate or via the Daedalus. The botanists quickly planted familiar grains and vegetables, so Evan ate fresh lettuce and radishes right from the start. But they discovered the wealth of their new world, and soon Evan shared days in the fields with men who'd served on his away team as well as technicians and support staff, coming back at night sweaty and satisfied.

He also hunted, often with Ronon, occasionally with some of the Athosians who'd come with them to Waterfall, and sometimes by himself. Those days he just hiked up streams, or along the beach.

One evening, Mahshoosh met him near at a communal dinner. "Hey," he said, pleased that she'd sought him out.

"You like plagal?" she asked without preamble.

"Who doesn't?"

She nodded. "Tomorrow. Sunrise. Where the forest begins." She left just as abruptly, leaving Evan to wonder what she wanted, and to look forward to tomorrow morning.

"Mahshoosh!" Evan shouted. "Wait up!" He jogged after her, feeling awkward under her gaze. "I thought we were going hunting together?"

"The sun is already high," she pointed out. "I waited as long as I could."

"The sun is barely over the horizon," Evan said. "You said sunrise, it's sunrise." She shrugged, and he thought again how strong she was, striding gracefully through the tall grass. Like Teyla, in some ways, but not as open. "So we're hunting plagal this morning?"

"One is bothering the preparations for the summer camp."

He knew what a plagal was; of course Mahshoosh would go off to hunt it by herself. The size of a California black bear, the shape of a rhinoceros, the disposition of Rodney McKay. But they did make good eating, its meat fried up like chicken, and the children needed to be safe in their summer camp.

They hiked in silence for a long way, climbing into the rolling hills above the settlement, headed toward the summer camp. The hills were always cooler once you reached the trees crowning their tops, old tangled things like oaks on Earth. Evan was happy to step into their shade and pause to sip at his canteen. He offered it to Mahshoosh who studied him for a moment before reluctantly taking the water. She handed it back to him, wiped her mouth, and gestured: on.

Evan thought she was beautiful, in a tough, Pegasus-galaxy way. More like Ronon than Teyla, really. Diplomacy was not her specialty. He'd learned in the months he'd known her that when she spoke, she was worth listening to. She was also worth looking at, he thought as she strode up the hill, the trees' eerie shadows falling over her in changing patterns. Long muscular legs, big hands, high firm breasts, and an ass to die for. Child-bearing hips, Evan's mother would have said; that made him snicker as he hurried after her.

They'd been hunting together before, but as part of a group. Last night had been a celebration of the turn of the seasons, and he had for the first time danced with her around the bonfire. Athosian dancing, stepping in place, pounding his feet into the earth, circling until he was dizzy and laughing.

Mahshoosh had laughed, too, her big toothy grin that made Evan crazy to see it again. She didn't talk much and she certainly didn't laugh much, and he wanted both from her as often as possible.

At least she'd danced with him. He'd been nervous that she'd turn him down because dancing at the turning was kind of a big deal. He'd taken a chance and she'd accepted him. If today's hunt went well, he might spend more time with her. He really wanted that. He'd decided that not long after he met her, after he'd moved to their new home. She was singular, unique, and to Evan's eyes, perfect.

Mahshoosh paused and pointed; ahead of them, Evan saw the ground had been rooted up. The disturbed soil was fresh, a moist red clay, the kind of soil the plagal liked to roll in. They separated and paced the rooted up area looking for a trail. Evan found one, obviously fresh; the trees had been rubbed against, the plagal's hide smoothing the trunks like sandpaper. He snapped his fingers once and nodded. Mahshoosh nodded back, and they began to follow the trail up the hill, deeper into the trees.

They didn't hurry. By now, Evan had hunted enough plagal that he knew how canny they were. As smart as pigs, he thought, but meaner. He carried a .30-06 caliber Remington 7600 that he'd hunted with on Earth as well as his P-90. Mahshoosh carried a P-90, everyone did nowadays, but also her own weapon from her own world. She'd never let Evan get a good look at it, but like Ronon's, it used bolts of energy rather than projectiles.

She paused, cocking her head, and Evan heard the ugly grunt of a plagal. They were omnivorous, so it was probably digging up worms and eating the sweet roots of the new grass. The wind was from Evan's right, so they slid to their left, going upwind, and suddenly he smelled the plagal, heavy and musky. The stink made him want to gag, but he swallowed twice and calmed his stomach.

Mahshoosh knelt behind a lichen-encrusted rock jutting up from the soil, and Evan leaned next to her, peering over it. He thought he could see the plagal moving in the shade opposite them. It might be playing, the way it tossed its head, flinging soil and grass around. But it was big and ornery and the meat was good. He took aim, breathing slowly, finding his heartbeat. He heard Mahshoosh whisper, "You take it."

He nodded, and focused entirely on the animal. He was in a good position, his body relaxed against the cool rock, the sun at his back, Mahshoosh warm against his side. He took two breaths, froze, and fired.

The plagal squealed and wailed, flipping onto its side and struggling to right itself. Evan and Mahshoosh fired simultaneously, and it went down, motionless and silent.

They stood. "Good shot," Mahshoosh told him, and he nodded. Killing for food was something he'd done all his life; his father had taken him squirrel hunting when he was a kid, and later he'd hunted deer. In the military, he'd had to kill too many times, too; those killings he didn't like to remember.

But this kill was different. This was his first hunt alone with Mahshoosh. They were killing not for pleasure or in war, but to protect their people, their children, and to provide food. He looked at her and found she was watching him.

Without speaking, they worked in unison, hanging the creature by its hind feet from a tree, then gutting it, setting aside the heart, kidneys, and liver. The work was slow and messy, but Evan settled into an easy partnership with Mahshoosh. They peeled the hide away, Mahshoosh studying it as she held it in her arms. "Make a nice blanket," she said, and to Evan's surprise, he saw she was blushing.

He gripped her wrists, noting they were both red with the plagal's blood but not caring. "Mahshoosh," he said breathlessly. "Mahshoosh, can this be a blanket for our bed?"

She was almost as tall as he was and stared evenly into his eyes. "My people are all dead. There is no one to give me to you."

"Give yourself to me," he said. "I give myself to you, Mahshoosh."

She looked away, biting her lip. This was the first time Evan had ever seen her unsure of herself. Then she looked confidently back at him. "Sheppard gives you, Emmagan gives me. Leaders of the free people."

The thought of Sheppard giving him away made Evan laugh, and he threw his head back. "Sure, okay!" he said, and kissed her, still laughing. She kissed him back, the hot heavy hide between them. A sacrament, Evan thought.

He couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day as they finished cleaning the beast and packed up to carry the meat and organs carefully. "A feast tonight," Evan told her as they washed up in a nearby creek. The water was so cold it hurt, but he splashed his face and neck anyway. "To celebrate."

She smiled, that shy smile he'd fallen in love with. Lightly stroking her cheek, Evan wondered why happiness made her shy when she was so bold and brave? He kissed her again, tasting the sweet cold water of the creek on her lips and cheeks. Gently, he pushed her back, and for the first time, she touched him as a lover.

As he sank into her, Evan had a vision of them teaching their children to hunt, stalking through the forests, Mahshoosh at his side, just as his father had taught him to hunt, but on another world in another galaxy.

On this new world, their circle of trading partners grew and they solidified friendships. Now that there was a second generation of Atlantians on Waterfall, members of the first expedition tended to leave the off-world activities to them, but some relationships were too important for anyone but the original team to attend to. Waterfall was a rich world compared to the beautiful sterility of Atlantis, but it lacked the elegant solutions that the Ancients had created.

Sometimes that frustrated Rodney. Okay, he admitted to himself; most of the time that frustrated him. He could foresee the day when he and Radek and the others could turn their attention back to studying the interactions of matter and energy, but when they first moved to Waterfall, he felt more valued for his physical strength than his intellectual abilities. That made him laugh, that he was valued for the strength of his shoulders and legs. If his college classmates could see him now.

Leaving Waterfall except to visit the Athosians or the rare trip back to Atlantis became less interesting to Rodney. The labs they'd built on their new world kept him busier than ever, because he had to fit the time in them between working the fields and taking his turn in the kitchens. He was teaching again, too, only this time he enjoyed it, and young Athosians had begun attending.

He'd catch John's eye sometimes, when they were chopping the Waterfall-equivalent to apples to boil up as sauce, or when they were struggling to dig post holes for fences to keep the plagal out of their fields, and he'd roll his eyes, amazed at the turn his life had taken. But then he'd spend consecutive days in his new lab, napping on a pile of sleeping bags in a corner, eating when John brought him something, lost in the calculations of large-scale energy weapons derived from Ronon's pulse gun or brainstorm with Radek on whether two puddlejumpers could be combined into one larger ship. He'd stagger out of the lab, frowning at the sunlight, and Elizabeth would say, "I think it's time for the first-contact team to renew our friendship with some of our trading partners."

"Here we go again," he murmured to John, who smirked at him. In a day or two, he'd dress again in the remnants of his uniform, only with a newly-reconfigured Beretta strapped to his thigh and the tac-vest now made out of the light-weight body armor Radek had invented, and the team would gather in the jumper bay for the long flight to the stargate, and they'd be off again.

"Will you not join us, Mistress?" Natico asked. Rodney started to answer for Elizabeth, but John elbowed him and he subsided.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, accepting the cup. It had no handle, like a Japanese tea cup, and was a pale green, nearly translucent. She held it carefully and watched Natico. His aide, Eetu, poured Natico a cup and offered it to him.

Rodney had watched another aide, Roosi, teach Elizabeth the ceremony; he knew it almost as well as she did, so he knew that they'd pause and stare at each other, holding the cups in the palms of their hands, before bowing from their seated positions. Elizabeth bowed deeper, because she was the visitor and guest and therefore, Rodney had inferred from Roosi's carefully explanation, of lesser status than Natico, their host.

He sighed and tried not to fidget. John sat quietly beside him, watching closely. Opposite, Ronon and Teyla sat, both looking stern, and immediately behind Elizabeth sat Lorne and Radek. Radek's eyes were wide and blue behind his glasses, which he kept pushing up his nose until, Rodney saw, Lorne gently covered Radek's hand with his own. They were all there, to Rodney's disgust and Elizabeth's embarrassment, as her family. Elizabeth and Teyla and even Ronon seemed to understand that presenting themselves as a family carried more prestige than Elizabeth alone as the leader of the expedition. Whatever. The sooner the alliance was made, the sooner Rodney could get back to work.

He sighed again. Finally, Natico lifted his cup. Elizabeth carefully imitated him. She had a crease of worry between her eyebrows. Rodney admitted to himself this was important, but he didn't like having so many of their senior staff off-world.

He glanced at John. Obviously, Sheppard's priorities were becoming his. When would it ever have occurred to Rodney to consider the dangers of having Elizabeth off-world? Not before knowing John, who sat quietly and dangerously next to Rodney, narrowed eyes focused on Elizabeth's safety, her friends around her, the strangers in front of her, the Marines surrounding them all, and outside, the constant wind streaming off the mountains, cold and dry and dusty.

Rodney shuddered, and drew his gaze back to the fire between Elizabeth and Natico. They were sipping at the beverage now. They called it tea, but Rodney called it disgusting. Elizabeth sipped with restrained enthusiasm, not gagging as Rodney had when he first tasted it, John smacking him in the back. They'd sat through rehearsals of this ceremony so often that Rodney was bored already, and there were hours to go. His knees ached. His butt hurt from sitting on the wooden floor. His back ached, and the arthritis in his neck was acting up in the cold. The dust bothered him, too, so he'd taken antihistamines and now his mouth was dry, and the smoke from the fire, thick and fragrant like juniper or cedar, worsened it.

He was surprised by the back of John's finger tapping his knee. A warning, he knew. Sit still, sit straight, keep a straight face . . . He took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, trying to use what Teyla had taught him about meditation.

When the first cup was emptied, Eetu brought another pair, these pale blue. This time Elizabeth filled Natico's cup, and then her own. Rodney remembered that the colors meant something, and that next Natico would fill Elizabeth's cup, and then they would alternate until they worked through the rainbow. It all had meaning, and historical significance, and performing it well bode well for the alliance, and Rodney thought again how stupid and superstitious people were, no matter which galaxy they lived in.

A gust of wind hit the side of the round structure they gathered in -- round, like the Stargate, Roosi had told them -- and literally rattled the roof, so a rain of fine dust fell on them. The fire flared up, the smell stronger now, as if the wind were feeding it oxygen, or maybe the dust was flammable. Rodney kept breathing, slowly, deeply, counting his breaths for something to do. Occasionally, he glanced around, but everyone seemed frozen, mired in time. Smeared by the wind, he thought, and then wondered what that meant. They were smeared, though. Like an impressionist's painting of them.

He slowly turned his head to study John: his sharp profile, voluptuous lips, floppy hair silted by the dusty air, his uniform dark with rings of sweat. Rodney could see John clearly, unlike the others, ringed in the billowing smoke of the fire. But John gleamed through the dusky, wavering light. It was like being under water, Rodney thought, and wiped the sweat from his face. The room was growing warmer, the air thicker, the wind outside stronger, shuddering the building so powerfully that Rodney felt it in his chest. Maybe it was thunder, maybe it was explosions, but as long as John sat quietly, Rodney would, too.

His eyes were heavy, and kept closing. He discovered he was leaning against John, and straightened, but soon slumped sideways again. John didn't object; he didn't do anything but press back against Rodney. He could hear John's breaths, deep and slow, and Rodney tried to match his breaths with John's, deeper and slower than he was used to. He realized he could hear the others breathing, too, in the same slow cadence as John. He thought he could hear the whole world breathing, each inhalation a swelling of life and energy, each exhalation nearly splitting open the world, and in between, an eternity of peace.

I'm loaded, he thought and, to his horror, giggled. He swallowed it back and inhaled deeply. The smoky air was luxurious, warm and cool all at once, like peppermint or ginger or the air sweet from the ocean surrounding Atlantis. He rested his head more heavily against John's shoulder, surrendering to the moment, simultaneously heavy and buoyant.

Eetu and Roosi continued to fill Natico's and Elizabeth's cups, a different color each time, and Natico and Elizabeth continued to drink down the nasty tea. Rodney thought Elizabeth's eyes were watering, and she was sniffing. Beyond her, Radek had removed his glasses; Lorne was slouching, almost doubled over.

Red cups. Pale yellow cups. Clay-colored cups. Onyx, crystal, ivory; an entire spectrum passed through Elizabeth's hands, carefully lifted to her lips and then handed back to Roosi. How many colors of cups were there on this world? And must Elizabeth sip from them all before they could go? Rodney was glad he wasn't drinking that much tea; he'd never be able to hold his pee long enough. He smiled sleepily, and turned to look at John, slouched half onto Rodney, breathing slowly and deeply.

"We're high," Rodney whispered into John's ear, and became entranced by the shape and size of it. He traced John's ear, lightly running his finger around it, his arm heavy and relaxed, John's skin soft between his fingertip. John shivered and leaned more into him. He was warm and comfortable, floating above the pale wood floor. He could see his and John's shadows beneath them as they hovered a few inches above. He'd never floated before, except in space. This was infinitely cooler, he decided. He'd float again once they returned to Atlantis, right over the ocean, peering into its depths. Maybe he'd see his whale again. He'd like that.

He rose higher, and took John's hand so they'd stay together as they bobbed in the smoky air. Rodney couldn't remember ever feeling so light, so happy. His muscles were so relaxed, his mind so peaceful, his heart so at ease.

He woke up with his head on John's thigh, with John stretched out behind him, yawning deeply. He raised his head and saw Radek rubbing his eyes and Lorne stretching and yawning. Elizabeth yawned, too, and smiled sleepily. "We did it," she said, and cleared her throat.

John sat up so suddenly he jostled Rodney. "What happened?" He sounded dangerous and angry.

"The ceremony was a success," Natico announced, smiling at them. Eetu and Roosi were tidying up the myriad cups, also smiling at the Atlantians. "Remarkable. Never have we experienced this. Our union will be blessed."

"Uh," John said, but Elizabeth beamed at Natico.

"I believe so as well," she said. Roosi helped her up, and the others scrambled to stand with her. "Is the ceremony complete, Natico? I don't wish to be disrespectful."

"Not in the least. We are family now, and can dispense with much formality. Trade negotiations are concluded, and as a token of our good faith, we have many baskets of api, sheshu, and nappas for you."

"Thank you so much," Elizabeth said, bowing deeply. Rodney bowed, too, and slowly John bowed. "We will come when you next need help in your fields."

Rodney was happy. He didn't expect to have to work in their fields, but he loved mashed api, and nothing was better than sheshu pie. "This could be the start of a beautiful friendship," he murmured to John, who grinned.

The storm had worsened, and dust hung thick in the air in the east. "We'd better hurry," Lorne said, seizing a basket of api. "Get this back to the jumper and home before we're stranded here."

Only when they were in the jumper, baskets filling the back compartment, did it occur to Rodney that they'd been drugged. "Elizabeth," he said, rubbing a ripe sheshu in his hands, "what just happened?"

"That was some good shit," Lorne said, and looked embarrassed. "Um."

"Were we drugged?" Elizabeth asked, pushing her hair back. "We were drugged, weren't we."

"I believe we were," Teyla said. "I have experienced that twice before at trade negotiations."

"Jesus, what did we agree to? Does anybody know?" Rodney asked, glancing around. Ronon looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his eyes. Radek kept polishing his glasses and peeking at Elizabeth. Lorne blew his nose loudly.

At last, John said, "Let's worry about this back home." The jumper rose, and Rodney dialed the gate. He glanced at John again, who looked stern and irritated. "I'm fine," John muttered beneath his breath. "You?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not good at intoxicants, but I feel fine now. How does everybody feel?" Rodney asked, raising his voice.

"I am well," Teyla said, sounding surprised.

"Me, too," Lorne said.

Radek said, "It seems to be a very short-lasting high. I feel nothing now. Perhaps a little euphoric."

Rodney agreed; he still felt happy. Odd sensation, too. Happy. "Huh," he said, and took a bite of the sheshu.

Waterfall was more temperate than the Alpha Site, so Rodney was happier. Lorne, Teyla, and Ronon had picked a particularly nice location, too. He could literally stand barefoot on a beach and look back at snow on the high mountains behind them. They had no history of the place, so jumpers were kept on standby, and many supplies never unpacked, just left in caches hidden in the hills, above where the river might flood. They'd gone about this relocation altogether differently, and more intelligently, he thought.

That said, there was still an awful lot of physical labor involved. He missed waving at doors and having them open, and the nearly infinite power of a ZPM. He missed a lot of things, and a lot of people.

"You ever miss it?" Rodney asked, and John knew exactly what he meant.

"Course I do." They were planting a type of wheat, something that wouldn't be ready until the first snowfall, and it was hard boring work. People worked in teams of two so they could chat and complain to each other. Everyone was out in the fields, slowly working. There were no draft animals on this world, though Parrish and Brown recently proposed they be introduced. Trading for them would be difficult, though, especially for a brood mare in foal.

Rodney didn't much like working in the fields, but everyone had to. He agreed in principle with that concept. He did like pairing up with John, who was both a hard-worker and entertaining. They played prime-not prime and even chess, holding the moves in their heads. Sometimes they talked about Earth, or Atlantis. Sometimes they told each other stories, from books or from their lives. Sometimes they just worked in silence. This year it was wheat, last year it was peas, next year lentils; the botanists checked the soil and rainfall and told them what to plant.

They didn't often play "what do you miss"; that was too painful. But as Rodney ground the handle of their zero-drill till while John pulled, he thought of the good bread that would be made from this wheat, of the pasta and pancakes and biscuits. He didn't have to miss those, so he focused on them, and on the honey-bees that Radek and Elizabeth kept, and the herbs that the botanists grew.

Sometimes, though, he thought he heard a breathy musical sigh, and he remembered that from the earpieces they wore in Atlantis, from lying alone in bed late at night, the ghost of the Ancients or the ocean sighing. He missed that, too, maybe most of all.

The city remained submerged. They went back once a year to check on it, but the Wraith still hovered above the planet and it wasn't safe to remain there, let alone to raise the city. Over the years, they had carried back almost everything, and with Teyla and Halling's assistance their trading partners had spread across the galaxy.

The Daedalus had never returned and, as far as Rodney knew, neither did any other ship. Presumably Earth assumed Atlantis had been subdued by the Wraith and given up on them. There wasn't enough power in the ZPM both to keep the city safely submerged and to jump to Earth, so here they remained in splendid isolation, until the Wraith left, until they found another fully-charged ZPM, or until they died.

The Atlantians, after some dissension, had followed the path of the Athosians and lived simply, not drawing attention to themselves with technology that could be spotted from the skies. They had built homes scattered through the temperate region of this world, along the edges of a landmass that looked in Rodney's mind like New Zealand turned ninety degrees and stretched out.

They stayed in touch with weekly meetings and monthly gatherings and annual celebrations, adopting the Athosian and other cultures' holidays and creating their own. There was little difference between Athosian and Atlantian now, and by the time Elizabeth and Radek's children grew up, Rodney thought that there would be none at all.

"Almost time to check in with the old girl," John said, and Rodney knew he meant Atlantis.

"Yeah. Download more of the database; Elizabeth's anxious about losing any of it."

John shrugged.

"Hey," Rodney said, stopping suddenly, so John was pulled back. They shared a canteen, and Rodney wiped the sweat off the top of his head before cramming his hat back on. It was a straw one Ronon had brought back for him, and that Teyla had trimmed with dried flowers. It looked ridiculous, he knew, but it kept the sun off his face and he liked knowing that Ronon had thought about him. John wore a kerchief wrapped around his head, the way Daniel Jackson used to; it was sweated through. Rodney watched as John took it off, poured water over it, wrung it out, and tied it back on. He shook his head but said nothing when John gave him the stink eye. They went back to work; this field was nearly done, and then they had a couple of days to rest before worrying about weeds and birds and everything else they had to worry about as farmers.

The sun was low in the sky and the first moon had risen when the finished. Rodney put his hands on the small of his back and leaned back, groaning. "I'm the one pulling the damn thing," John said, as he always did.

"Whatever," Rodney said. "Massage tonight?"

John laughed as they packed up the tiller and seed, walking the long way around the field. By the time they'd put everything in its place and heated buckets of water over the naquadah-generator stove, both moons were up. Their milky light was so bright that only a few stars could be seen when both were out. They sat in battered tin tubs; Rodney felt as if he'd been transported back in time to the American West. He sighed deeply as he sank into the steamy water. "I'm serious. I need a massage."

"Whatever," John said. He handed Rodney a mug of Radek's mead, which he called medovina, and they alternated sips from it as they sat in the cooling water. Not exactly Molson's, Rodney thought but it quenched his thirst.

Dinner was a fresh salad, dried plagal, hard rolls, and fist-sized fruit the color of plums but that tasted like cantaloupe. Rodney had trouble keeping his eyes open while he dried dishes and put them into the open cupboards.

"All right," John said in a long-suffering tone of voice. He took Rodney by the hand and led him to the bed. They stripped off the kameezes they wore at home and Rodney toppled onto the bed. John knelt over him, knees on either side of his hips. Rodney heard him open the jar of essential oil that smelled like sage, and sank deeper into their bed. John's hands slapped together, and then Rodney felt their weight on his shoulders. He sighed happily. John gave powerful back rubs that almost always ended with them fucking; his dick began to harden at the thought and he wiggled his hips. John smacked his ass lightly, and then began to massage his back.

Rodney groaned as John's thumbs pressed into the muscles on either side of his spine and worked their way down. Again and again John applied pressure, sometimes using his elbow to work at a tight spot. Rodney grew sleepy, and when John finally rolled him over, he was utterly relaxed.

John kissed Rodney, who opened his mouth to suck on John's tongue. He pulled John down, to lie on top of him so they could push their erections together. "Fuck me," John whispered, kissing Rodney's ear and making him shiver. "My turn; you know it is."

"You'll have to fuck yourself," Rodney said, a little meanly, but he was so relaxed, and this way John could do all the work and still get what he wanted. "Ride that pony," he added, making John laugh. He reached behind him for the jar of oil, though, and wiggled his eyebrows at John, who sat on Rodney's thighs, his knees up, leaning back on his hands. "Jesus Christ," Rodney said, suddenly energized at the sight. If getting this required giving up Atlantis, he thought it was the best trade he'd ever made.

He played with John's dick and balls, slipping his oily fingers around them, making John jump with pleasure, and then slid a finger into John. "You are a pretty, pretty man," he said, watching John's face as his finger entered him. Rodney was so hard he ached. "Come on, come on," he whispered, seizing John's hips.

John positioned himself above Rodney, letting Rodney hold his dick in place. They teased each other for a minute, but John was already panting, and Rodney knew his own face was red from exertion and excitement.

He groaned again, longer and louder, when John fitted himself onto Rodney. He spilled more oil onto his stomach and slicked them both, amazed even now that John wanted this, that John had ever wanted him, that John still wanted him.

He really did let John do all the work, who rode Rodney as hard as he'd worked in the field that day. Rodney's hips lifted helplessly, pushing deeper into John, faster, until their skin and the oil made rude sounds that had them laughing when Rodney came.

John clutched Rodney's shoulder with one hand while he pumped himself with the other, coming in hot gouts over Rodney's stomach. Rodney opened his eyes to watch John come: eyes closed, mouth open, lips moving soundlessly, and then he dropped his head onto Rodney's sternum.

Rodney's mouth was dry from panting and he wanted more of Radek's mead, but he lay quietly under John, kissing his sweaty temple.

Slowly, Rodney slipped out of John, and John rolled next to him. The nights were still warm enough to sleep just as they were. Rodney pulled John to him, wanting the weight of John's head on his shoulder as he drifted into sleep. In the distance, he heard a soughing sound, like breakers rolling onto a shore, like air pushed through a ventilation system, or like an almost-musical sigh of a long-distant city.

In their small home, on a corner of the lands they worked with their friends, Rodney fell asleep.

In the spring, when the bees began to swarm, Elizabeth, Radek, Eliska, Jiri, and Jakub gathered honey. Jakub was too little to be trusted around the bees, but he obediently played in his screened-in crib, laughing at the sight of the bees flying. Eliska and Jiri were accomplished beekeepers, better than Elizabeth, Radek thought, though he'd never tell her.

"What is the next step?" he asked them.

"Heat the honey in water," Eliska said.

"Then skim off anything on the surface," Jiri added.

Radek nodded proudly at them. "How many stings?" Eliska showed him her left hand, Jiri his knee and ankle, and Elizabeth sadly showed where a bee had crawled under her smock and stung her shoulder. He kissed the swollen spot and said, "Let's go fix ourselves, yes?"

"Yes, Ta," the children cried, running toward the little shed where they stored the mead-making supplies.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, slipping his arm around her waist.

"I'll never love the bees the way you do, Radek," she admitted. "And they'll never love me the way they love you."

"Ah, ah," he said teasingly. "I am the only one privileged enough to love you that way." He kissed her cheek, and then her shoulder again. "You are sweet as honey to me."

"Even now? Three children later?"

"You need me to flatter you? Then I will." He stopped and turned her to face him. "You are more lovely now than when I first met you. You were too thin then, remember? Working all the night, so many decisions, so much responsibility. Now, you sleep at night in my arms, you wake to your children's voices, and your work is just as important -- we are Atlantis, even here." He saw she had tears in her eyes. "Come, we must see to the sting. It pains you."

"Radek, wait. Dear, dear Radku. Thank you for this life. I was in such despair for so long." They kissed again, slowly, until Jiri shouted, "Maminka! Táta! Eliska can't reach the vinegar!"

"Well, there's a reason for that," Elizabeth called to him. Radek took her hand and they walked into the sudden shade of the hut where the children waited. "Now, watch what I do," she told them. They watched as if hypnotized when she poured a drop of vinegar into a little bowl of baking soda. When it had stopped fizzing, she scooped out a fingerful and rubbed it on their hand, ankle, and knee.

"Now run along," Radek told them. "Go play with your little brother. Take him into the garden and teach him how to weed." When they'd scampered away, Radek pulled off Elizabeth's smock and unbuttoned her blouse.

"Radek," she demurred, glancing toward the garden, but the children were helping Jakub toddle away from them to the safety of the vegetable garden. Radek stroked the paste onto the hot red sting, and then lightly touched her breast. They watched together as her nipple hardened. He smiled at her and then took her breast into his mouth, rolling his tongue around her nipple. She groaned and shifted her weight, and he knew to slip his hand between her legs. "Radek," she whispered.

He pulled away from her breast regretfully, kissing the soft underside, and said, "If the children were gone, I would take you here, Elizabeth, with the music of the bees and the wind and the calling birds."

Elizabeth gasped, with excitement he thought, and that made him even more excited. "Do it," she said. "Quickly. The children won't know. I want you, Radek, please, now."

He drew her deeper into the shadows, behind the wooden slats of the shed, hidden from the world. He was shocked at her passion; it had been since before Jakub's birth that he had seen her like this, wanting him inside her, desiring evidence of his passion for her, and suddenly the months fell away and she felt as she had when they first came together, a bit desperate, a bit grateful.

He entered her swiftly, and they groaned. He used his fingers on her while he fucked her, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, gasping at the change of angle, and he licked her breast again.

She dropped her head and pushed against his fingers, clenching around him inside her. He could hear how wet she was as they worked together. He lightly bit her nipple and she cried out as she came, her hair failing into her face. She held onto him, wrapping one leg around him, and he came, too, staring into her eyes.

"I thought," she started, and then stopped.

"I know," he said, and kissed her even as he straightened their clothing. He pushed her hair behind her ears. "My dearest one, how much happier you have made me than I ever thought to be."

"Maminka!" Eliska called. "Jakub made a poo!"

They laughed. "Nothing like children to bring one back to earth," she said.

"Not Earth," he reminded her, kissing her fingers as they walked back into the sun and to their garden. "Never Earth again."

"But home nonetheless," she said, and he agreed.

Away from the bees, playing on the beach, Emily Dex laughed, splashing water, and stumbling away, squealing when Rodney caught her up in his arms and blew raspberries on her tummy. "Amma, Amma!" she cried, laughing, as Rodney carried her to Teyla. "Rodney bubbled me!"

"Did he, little one?" Teyla asked, taking Emily from Rodney's arms and smiling up at him. "Did he do this?" And she blew raspberries on Emily's tummy. Rodney put his hands over his ears, miming displeasure at the cacophony, but Teyla knew better.

"Are you two hungry?" she asked, settling Emily at her side. Emily immediately began crawling toward the sandcastle her brother and John were building.

Rodney picked her up again. "Well, I am," he said.

"Feeding your unhappiness," John said without looking up. Rodney kicked water toward him, making Emily laugh again.

"Rodney!" Star said, frowning up at him. "Don't wreck the city, please."

Rodney squatted down beside him, keeping Emily from crushing the sandcastle. "Good likeness," he said grudgingly.

"Damn good likeness," John corrected him.

"Amma! John said a bad word!" Emily tattled.

"Ha! What's the penalty?" Rodney asked her, settling her on his knee.

"A kiss for everyone," she said promptly, and leaned forward over the castle toward John, who kissed her nose. "Everyone!" she demanded, so John kissed Star's forehead, who scrubbed at it, and then Rodney, but gently, Teyla saw, smiling to herself.

"No kiss for me?" she called to him.

He smiled at her and rose, brushing the sand from his hands. "Come on, kids," he said, offering a hand to Star. "Time for lunch and then a nap."

"Jo-ohn," Star said, but he came willingly enough as they settled down to eat.

"God, I love this stuff," Rodney said through a mouthful. "Wildebeest."

"Gnu," John corrected him. "Pegasus gnu."

"What's new with you?" Rodney asked, and even Star giggled.

"It is very good," Teyla agreed, sprinkling dried celiandrum on a small piece.

"Ronon should be here," Rodney said, pausing. "He'd love this."

Teyla took a deep breath, calming herself. "He will return in fewer than seven days," she reminded him. "We will come again when he returns."

"Yeah, that'd be great," John said, and rolled onto his back, resting his head on Rodney's sturdy thigh. "Bring our surfboards."

"When can I learn to surf, Amma?" Star asked.

"When you are big enough."

"When will I be big enough?"

"When Abba and John say you are, and I agree with them."

"But when, Amma?"

"Do not whine, Star. It is an unattractive quality."

"Yeah, just listen to your Uncle Rodney," John said, and Rodney glared at him.

"I miss Abba," Star said, a bit sulkily.

Teyla smoothed the hair off his face. "He loves you even when he is far away," she said gently.

Rodney held out a dripping slice of sheshu. "Abba will come home soon," he said. Star took the sheshu, eating it sloppily.

"Thank you," he said, rubbing his face and smearing the juice on it.

"For God's sake," Rodney said, sounding more like himself. "Come on, let's get washed up. I've got wildebeest under my fingernails, and you look like you rolled in sheshu." He took Star's hand and tugged him toward the shore where gentle waves scattered seafoam. "Maybe we can find some myties to dig for dinner."

John and Teyla watched them. John said, "We all miss Ronon."

"He had to go, John," Teyla said, trying to remain calm. She was tired of this discussion, and what was the point? Ronon was gone. He would return. What more could be said?

"I know, I get it. I just. It's just." He sighed, and shrugged. "Just read my mind the way you usually do, okay? It's easier."

She smiled sadly at him, and, as she had for Star, brushed his hair off his face. "He will be home soon."

John looked at her. Sometimes she thought she really could read his mind, but other times he was a complete mystery to her. Why he had argued so strongly against Ronon's return to Sateda to help his people rebuild a part of his birth city, neither Teyla nor Ronon had understood. She had spoken quietly to Rodney about it, but he had only said, "It's his martyr complex. He thinks he should be the only one to put himself at risk. Moron."

Maybe that was it, Teyla thought. And maybe he simply missed Ronon. They'd been together so long, settling into a stable orbit; a quaternary star cluster, Rodney called them. When one was missing, the others were no longer balanced. John sulked, Rodney grumbled, the children were fractious, and she -- well, she was lonely.

The afternoon slipped away as easily as the sun's slide into the water. They all dozed, Rodney snoring occasionally until John nudged him, the children sprawled across him, bonelessly relaxed. Teyla slept for a while, too, and woke to find John walking a perimeter, cautious despite the safety of their home.

He came to her and knelt next to her. "I'm sorry," he said, and she smiled at him. Still silent after all these years; she remembered Rodney saying that to him once, and she thought it was true. John spoke more articulately than anyone she'd ever known, but not in words; he spoke in his actions when he checked their home, helped Star with his math, took Rodney and the children on day trips so she and Ronon could have time alone. Best of all was his uninhibited laugh, big and crazy and happy; that told her all she needed to know, and she blessed a world that had given her all this.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," she told him. She sat up and rubbed her face, sighing. "We all do what we must," she said, not for the first time. "Even you."

He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, a familiar gesture. Then Rodney said, "I'm hungry. Is there any leftover wildebeest?"

"Gnu," John said.

"What's new with you?" Star asked, climbing into Teyla's lap.

Rodney groaned. "See what you've done?" he said to John, gathering the children's toys and their supplies while Emily wrapped herself around his leg. "Here, help me pick up all this stuff so we can get home. I hope I didn't burn; did I burn? Is my nose burnt?" He stuck his face into John's, who laughed and shook his head.

"We'll eat at home, Rodney," Teyla said. "Mahshoosh and Evan brought us plagal yesterday; John said he'd fry it up."

"Mm," Rodney and Star said.

They started home, away from the beach and through the forest, walking the wide path that they had cut years ago and that John was slowly paving with stones he found when they tilled the garden. Teyla had planted bulbs along the edge, and graceful leaves brushed against them as they walked. Some were still in flower, pale greens and blues, but most were already drying, readying themselves for winter.

Night had fallen by the time they reached home, and the sky was full of stars. "There's Kelso," Rodney said, scooping a child up in each arm as if to bring them closer to the sky. "See? The pale red star. And there's Erta, the yellow one."

"Goddess of Nimu," Star said, and Rodney nodded. "John will take us there some day?"

"If your mom says it's okay," John said, helping Teyla into the house. The air was stale after their day out doors at the beach.

"Time to heat water for a bath," Rodney told the children. "Mummy and John will fix dinner, and then a bath, and then bed, understood?"

"Yes, Rodney," they chimed.

He set Emily in her chair and stood Star on the floor. "Let's wash up for dinner." He looked at John and Teyla. "Because we're all very, very hungry," he added, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, Rodney, we know," John said, but he caught Rodney's hand and for an instant they paused, caught in the sudden flare of the lantern Teyla lit.

She would remember that moment, she knew; she felt it imprint itself into her mind and heart. The two men, staring at each other, faces full of emotion, both a bit burnt -- which meant Rodney would complain for a week -- both sandy, both smiling, in her home with her children. Her family. However had she reached this place, with these people?

She sighed and lit the stove. "Please wash," she said, "and then someone needs to bread the plagal."

Cosmic
Byron Bussey

The tide was out
stretching a long desert of wet sand
and a man with a steel framed backpack sat on a log
and watched it meet somewhere out there with the identical sky.
And hours later, when I returned
to see that the man was still there,
the ocean now
a steadily growing puddle at his feet,
I could only watch and wait and
think about the details of my day, which were now
somehow irrelevant, for here was a man
who, in standing and moving slowly towards
the shore, was a man who moved for nothing else
but the mysterious pull of the moon.