Judas Doesn't Answer..:..Auburn

Day Minus Six

Terra.09.11.19.0635
Atlantis.17751.123.50485206
MR3-331.1.5.9.0852

Local 08:52 hrs

"It's Bill Lee," Rodney said, half-disgusted, as the scientist in question stopped in the middle of the sunlit gateroom and stared around in wonder. John sort of understood the disgust; Lee was blocking everyone else coming through the wormhole behind him, along with the precious crates of supplies being shoved through by the forkliftful. They had less than thirty-eight minutes left, John wanted to yell at Lee to get his ass moving and out of the way.

"Wasn't he on the personnel manifest?" Elizabeth asked. She'd taken a place just on John's other side, close enough that a shift of weight would have their elbows brushing, the three of them gathered to watch the latest intake of personnel from Stargate Command, coming through the stargate rather than aboard the Daedalus or the Apollo thanks to a ZPM discovered in the Milky Way. It had become something like a tradition as the years passed, standing on the control room balcony, overlooking the gateroom, watching the newbies. They hadn't received this many new people since they had first re-established contact with Earth and a lot of them were people from Area 51 and Cheyenne Mountain, and a few were even people coming home, like mustang Lieutenant Eugene Bates, who stepped through the event horizon and guided Lee forward with implacable politeness.

Rodney made a lemon-sucking face. "I'd hoped it was a mistake."

"I'm sure he'll be a great addition to our science division," Elizabeth teased.

"You'll be best friends before you know it," John added, smirking deliberately. "And then you and Elizabeth can play Worlds of Warcraft – "

The horrified look on Rodney's face and Elizabeth's, "John!" made him burst out laughing. Then Rodney pointed. "Felger and Coombs!? No, no, no! I explicitly refused to have them here – "

Elizabeth sighed audibly. "Some of our recommendations were obviously overridden."

Which didn't bode well, anymore than all the new people did. Another bunch of square pegs, mavericks, loners and misfits. Atlantis seemed to be the SGC's dumping ground lately. None of them liked it, even if most of the exiles did better than anyone could have expected them to.

"Hmph," Rodney grumbled. "They'll end up blowing off at least a piece of Atlantis, maybe a pier. Mark my words." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at the scientists tripping out of the way of a squad of marines loading crates onto dollies and rolling them away from the event horizon. "Did they at least send Markov and Colson?"

"Yes, Rodney."

Rodney stared at the gate. He kept scowling, but John recognized the sadness underneath and searched his mind for the cause. He thought about the list of new and old personnel. There had been no one on it to have such an effect. No one on it, John realized, but someone not on it. Damn. Katie hadn't come back. She'd left seven months before, for a family emergency, and promised to return. Months had passed, with the Daedalus and the Apollo making the trip from Earth, and there had only been messages. Letters Rodney hadn't shared with the team or anyone else.

Rodney sniffed and John clapped him on the back. "Time to torture the newbies, buddy." He checked his watch. Two minutes to shut down. Looked like the show was over for the next six months.

"Fun stuff," Rodney said. "Don't forget to tell all the Neanderthals to keep their paws off everything!"

"John," Elizabeth added as he turned away from the gateroom. "Orientation assembly in the main mess hall, please be there."

"Oh five hundred, I'll be there," he promised. She smiled, her expression indulgent. She knew he hated formalities and speech giving, but he'd be there, standing up with her along with Rodney, providing a united front. Meanwhile, he was going to mess with Bates, just a little. No use letting him know that John had okayed his transfer first of any of the marines rotating in or that he planned on giving him a gate team even though he had just finished OCS. New at officering or not, Bates was the first lieutenant with gate experience he'd received in years and not just that, Pegasus and Atlantis experience. Lorne had actually laughed at how eager John had been to get him back.

He'd turned and was two steps toward the nearest transporter, raising his hand to his radio to check in with Lorne, when the wormhole collapsed with a characteristic squelch. The sudden cessation of conversation halted him in his tracks. That wasn't normal. John turned on his heel, caught Rodney's and Elizabeth's expressions of shock, and strode back.

Elizabeth's features were already smoothing over into her best diplomatic smile, but Rodney's mouth hung open.

John glanced down to the gate room floor and suppressed a frown.

In front of the gate, in typical mission gear, SG-1 – including Teal'c this time – stood with IOA representative Woolsey and General O'Neill.

O'Neill turned his face up, smiled and called, "Got a couple of guest rooms?" He waved at SG-1. "I decided the kids needed a vacation."

"I think we can make room," Elizabeth replied. She headed for the main stairs. Rodney and John trailed her, exchanging a wordless series of looks, raised eyebrows and shrugs that communicated: Did you have any idea? No, you? I don't like this. Yeah, me either.

Atlantis.17751.123.50560221
MR3-331.1.5.9.1942

Local 19:42 hrs

Teyla and Ronon were already at one of the tables that offered a view out the high windows in the night-shadowed and otherwise empty mess hall, chiaroscuro figures with cups in front of them that probably didn't hold coffee considering the leather-wrapped bottle from Khemari sitting between them. Ronon's doing, but Atlantis had never really been dry, not even the first year. John watched them from the doorway for a moment, caught by the sense he should memorize everything. He shook off the foreboding and made his way to the industrial-sized coffee urn, snagging a cup and filling it, before ambling over.

He knew better than to spend too much time reflecting on the past or the future. O'Neill was probably here because of Woolsey and SG-1…Maybe they did need a vacation where they didn't have to pretend about anything. Right. Maybe the Wraith would all join PETA and become vegans. He was tired enough after getting all the marines sorted and in their quarters that his mouth curved up at the thought and he decided that in Pegasus it would be 'Wraith for the Ethical Treatment of Humans'.

"John," Teyla greeted him as he sat. He nodded silently, still smiling. Smiling at Teyla always came easy. She never asked for more than he had to give, which made it easier not to disappoint her. He thought sometimes that he could tell her his secrets. Some day. He wouldn't, but he liked knowing that he might.

He waved his cup toward the bottle. "Give me a shot of that."

Ronon cocked an eyebrow and poured. The liquor had a cherry-red color and smelled faintly of maple and smoke. No one could stand it straight, but it went well in coffee. Ronon kept pouring until John grimaced and said, "That's enough." He sank back in his chair and tried a sip, waiting until it had burnt its way down to the pit of his stomach.

None of them said anything more until Rodney stumbled in. He headed for the coffee urn, poured one cup and chugged it down, then filled it again, drank half of that, then topped the cup off and made his way to the fourth chair at the table. He dropped into it with a grunt. The cuff of his long-sleeved blue shirt had a scorch mark and his hair seemed to stick out in wild tufts that should have had sparks still coming off of them. Or maybe wisps of smoke from the way he was frowning.

"Why are they always idiots?" he asked.

John shifted, shrugged, then hid his grin behind his coffee cup.

"I mean, really, are they getting stupider?" Rodney looked almost bewildered as he shifted his gaze from Teyla to Ronon and then to John. "I swear, they're getting stupider. It isn't just me, is it? Please tell me it isn't just me."

"Kinda," John said.

Rodney pointed at him, opened his mouth, then snapped it closed and just slumped lower. "Gimme some of that awful stuff," he told Ronon and shoved his cup toward the Khemari liquor. "The only way to get through intake day is with the promise of getting trashed once all the new monkeys are locked up in their cages – quarters, I mean." Ronon poured a generous amount of liquor into his cup and Rodney took a gulp, coughing and then remarking wistfully, "We couldn't really put them in cages, could we?"

"Elizabeth would not approve," Teyla said.

"They wouldn't be much use if we kept them all locked up," John added.

"They're not much use anyway."

Everyone snickered. It did usually take from several weeks to several months before the new people integrated. A few never managed and would be shipped back to Earth. A few managed to get themselves killed, still. They went back to Earth too, if there was a body.

Teyla sipped her own drink primly, but she blinked several times after it went down. Since she didn't like coffee much, John surmised she was drinking the straight stuff. Athosians had strong stomachs and iron heads. "I admit," she said, "that Dr. Balinsky was most persistent today."

"Balinsky," John echoed, trying to remember which one Balinsky was: the new anthropologist or the new electrophysicist.

"He bothered you?" Ronon asked.

Teyla smiled and shook her head. "He wishes to interview me about Athosian history and any stories we have about the old city on Athos. And he wishes to come to New Athos to conduct a study. Another study." She sighed.

So, the anthropologist, John figured. The one that had been on SG-13. He had a tentative plan to put him on Bates' gate team if possible. Corrigan's knee hadn't healed right, even with physical therapy, and offworld missions were too hard on him these days.

He took another sip of his laced coffee and shifted his gaze to the windows, away from Rodney. Security and navigation lights glittered out there and a few windows were lit, but most of Atlantis ran dark, powered down to save their ZPMs, the towers black silhouettes against the star strewn night sky of their latest planet. Dark enough he could watch his team mates reflected in the window's mirror. He listened with half his attention as Rodney began ranting about the new scientists, especially the engineers and physicists.

"I told Felger to keep his hands off Artifact 32457," Rodney said. "Did he listen?" He held up his hand and John realized the scorch mark on his shirt continued into a pencil length red burn curling around the heel of his hand. "It was already overheating by the time I got to it and turned it off. Of course, I dropped it and the crystals are shattered, thank you very much."

"Ouch."

Rodney flexed his hand. "No blisters."

"Good reflexes," Ronon commented.

Rodney gave out a little grunt. "Then there's Colson. I've got no idea what to put him to work on, his specialty is aeronautics. I suppose I can assign him to the jumpers. Of course, that'll put Lee's nose out of joint, the idiot thinks I'm going to let him dismantle a working jumper…Zelenka will work with Colson at least. Did you know Radek hates Russians? I mean, hates, he started muttering about tanks and stuff in Czech and then said it was him or Markov, since he wouldn't work in the same lab with a Russian."

"Can you not assign her a different work space?" Teyla asked.

Rodney waved his burned hand. "Yes, obviously." He sighed melodramatically.

"Colson," John said. "Is that the guy the SEC went after?" He remembered catching some bizarre news report and hadn't there been aliens…He blinked as the memory snapped into focus. Crap. Not X-File's aliens – that had been an Asgard. Not that he'd known at the time. Not that it would have made any difference.

"Yeah, but it was all a set-up. The NID framed him," Rodney said. "Then the SGC 'disappeared' him to the Alpha site, where he went on with some research, and now he's here."

"Yeah, that," John muttered. He felt sorry for the guy, but things could have been a lot worse. He'd read the files on Colson. The NID or the Trust could have eliminated him in a much more permanent fashion.

"Colson'll be okay," Rodney said. He reached for his coffee cup and nearly fumbled it because of the burn. "It's Felger. O'Neill has to be punishing me for something, sending him here. And speaking of O'Neill, what the hell is he doing here with SG-1?" He looked at John, who shrugged, because he didn't know either. Elizabeth had been closeted with Woolsey and O'Neill for two hours before the general orientation and she hadn't shared what they talked about with him, in the interim.

"Maybe we're the new Siberia," John offered.

Rodney glared.

"Oh, that's right," John drawled. "That's where they sent you."

Rodney narrowed his eyes and lobed the gibe right back. "Says the man who was flying taxi service in Antarctica."

John licked a finger and etched a point in the air.

"You really have no idea why O'Neill's here?" Rodney asked. "Because, vacation, my ass. He's head of Homeworld Security. He negotiates with alien governments. He didn't stop by for the fishing."

John agreed. He thought he'd stop by Elizabeth's quarters later and see what he could coax out of her. She'd let something slip. She trusted him.

"Not a clue," he said.

"A lot of good you are." Rodney rocked his empty cup, holding it in his good hand. Ronon reached over and added a slug from his bottle, then did the same for Teyla and John. "I wonder if I could get anything useful from Gilmor."

"The guy that's supposed to be Elizabeth's new assistant?"

Rodney gave John a superior look. "Yes."

"Why would he know and not us?"

"I think he might be a little more than an assistant," Rodney told him. "He's probably here to keep tabs on us."

"So, he's what?" Ronon asked. "A spy?"

John stopped with his cup halfway to his lips.

"Probably," Rodney said, sounding gloomy. "We should keep an eye on him."

"Isn't that slightly paranoid?" Teyla sounded doubtful.

"It isn't paranoia when they're really out to get you," Rodney said. "The IOA is just waiting for the chance to pull Elizabeth from command, the Air Force hates Sheppard, and my 'colleagues' are sick with envy, of course, since they'll never approach my level of brilliance. Little yapping dogs intent on dragging down anyone greater than them."

"Right, Rodney," John said. He swallowed the liquor in his cup, thick and syrupy and still laced with the dregs of his coffee, and then stood. "We've both got a long day of herding new guys tomorrow, plus whatever O'Neill drops on us, so we should get some rest while we can."

"Right, right," Rodney agreed, but he didn't move, just ran his hand over his face, the faint sound of his beard rasping against skin audible in the quiet mess.

"Teyla, Ronon, if you want to gate through to New Athos or something and hide out, I'm sure we can find some reason," John told them.

"That will not be necessary, John," Teyla replied.

"Sounds good to me," Ronon said, eyebrows raised at her.

"Lucky bastard." Rodney pushed himself to his feet. "Well, good night to all of you. Tomorrow I have to deal with Captain Hailey."

John bit his tongue until Rodney had gone. He didn't want to get into anything with Rodney regarding the Air Force officer and astrophysicist the SGC had sent this time. He figured a big enough explosion was coming when Rodney figured out Carter was Hailey's mentor.

Teyla caught John's arm before he could follow Rodney out.

"Katie did not return."

"No."

"McKay's not going to leave here," Ronon stated.

John covered his discomfort with a shrug. "And give up all the cool toys? Hardly."

"Guess they're over."

He glanced at Ronon and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him. "Yeah," he drawled, "between two galaxies sort of redefines 'long-distance relationship'."

"Be kind, John," Teyla told him. For all her gentle tone, he knew an order when he heard one. It hurt a little that she thought she had to tell him that, but he'd done nothing to prove he didn't deserve it. "It is a difficult thing, to choose your purpose over your relationships or to have the one you care for make a choice that does not include you."

John met her eyes briefly, then tore his gaze away. Teyla knew. She'd left her people for Atlantis. He knew, too.

"Hey, Rodney's Rodney," he said with a smirk. "He'll decide she was intimidated by his towering intellect and that he's better off without her."

"No one is better off alone," Teyla replied.

He shrugged at her and Ronon and made his way out, heading for the transporter.

A glance at his watch showed him Elizabeth would be in her quarters, but it wasn't too late to stop by. Teyla had made a good point.

Day Minus One

Atlantis.17751.128.
MR3-331.1.5.14.

Local 19:24 hrs

McKay frustrated Bill. He had had an annoying habit of stealing Bill's keycards out of his office desk back at the SGC. That was petty. The biggest part of it came from being in charge of the SGC Science Department after Colonel Carter was promoted and finding that meant little to nothing in Atlantis. Part of it was just the man, though.

Who would not listen to him.

"I said no and I meant no," McKay told him on the way out of the lab. "Is it a difficult concept? Do you not understand common English? Are you perhaps deaf? Only the last two excuse you from nearly criminal stupidity."

Bill swallowed the urge to strangle him and followed McKay down the corridor instead. He had to hurry; McKay walked fast and never stopped talking, even when they headed up an open flight of stairs, brushing past a tall potted plant. It had large, oily dark leaves. Bill steered clear of it. He'd never get used to the way Atlantis had so much alien flora.

He admitted to a certain level of paranoia over plants since the thing back at the SGC.

"Aside, from, oh, needing the jumpers for operations, there's the fact that none of the fresh meat – sorry, should I say novices? – is cleared to begin any projects, as I explained in detail in the email you all received in addition to the Science Division orientation held last week when you arrived. You do read your email, don't you, Lee?"

"Yes, but Dr. McKay," he puffed, resenting that McKay wasn't even out of breath.

McKay waved a hand. "No but."

"Both the IOA and the SGC have okayed this project. Over two years ago!" Bill exclaimed.

"They're all idiots," declared McKay. "Oh, not Carter, but how much clout does she have with the political weasels? No, and no, and no again."

"I can take this to Dr. Weir," Bill said. The words made his lips feel stiff. He didn't want to even talk with Dr. Weir. The way she and McKay had manipulated and fooled him before still stung. He'd been incredibly stupid to believe she shared any interests with him, but at the time the flattery had gone to his head. He'd been riding high at the time, heading the SGC labs and in charge of the jumper project.

"Oh, please, like she's going to…" McKay paused at the doorway into the mess hall. His expression softened. "Look, it isn't going to happen. There are three dozen more urgent projects. You'll end up taking charge of at least a quarter of them, so that I can free up Zelenka to handle half the things I want to be working on, because there just isn't enough time."

"I feel compelled to do so, under the circumstances," Bill insisted.

McKay sniffed. "Do as you please. Don't expect me not to say I told you so, though." He dismissed Bill and his concerns, turning his back on him, saying, "I hope they still have some real apples left."

Bill didn't bother following him inside. His stomach felt sour with resentment. He decided to explore the city some more. He couldn't get into the labs or the jumper bay without an authorization, so he had nothing better to do.

Vala walked out onto the balcony attached to her quarters and perched on the rail. She smiled at the stars overhead. Cam would probably comment on how different they were from those seen from Earth. They were, but so what? Vala had seen the stars from a hundred planets in the Milky Way, from the Ori galaxy and now in Pegasus, and though you saw different ones from different places, they were still stars. Considered objectively, the stars were always the same, only where you were changed.

They were always pretty, shiny and full of promise.

She hadn't sussed out why O'Neill had brought SG-1 here, but she knew it wasn't for any 'vacation'. He and Woolsey had closeted themselves with Weir the first day and every day since. From the annoyed looks on Sheppard and McKay's faces, she'd bet no one had told them either.

Would it be worth it to work on Woolsey and find out whatever she could?

She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers.

Probably not. Everyone would just become annoyed with her again, not understanding that ferreting out secrets was her way of safeguarding herself.

She hopped down from the railing and grimaced at the dampness that had soaked into the backside of her BDUs. Now she'd need to change before she tracked down Daniel.

"Come on," Rodney wheedled, "why are they really here?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

Rodney paused and studied her, still holding the apple he'd been pleased to find. Elizabeth had a tray with a light dinner assembled from the lighter foods the mess hall cooks always kept in the public access parts of the kitchen for those who missed out on dinner.

She looked tired and harassed.

"I have as high a clearance as you do," Rodney said. He suddenly felt like he was dealing with a bomb.

Elizabeth's smile was the one she used to cover being worried. "Not in this case," she said.

"Does John know?"

"No."

"Okay," he said, still frowning. Carter had been accessing a lot of his work, or at least overriding his secure files, and he'd been set to start ranting about her and Bill Lee and the Zelenka/Markov feud, but he decided to stay silent. Elizabeth looked overstressed already. "Apple?" he offered.

Her smile turned real. "No, but thank you, Rodney."

"You'll tell me when you can?"

"Yes, I'll tell you as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I have the second contact protocols briefing with Dr. Jackson and the rest of SG-1, followed by an appointment with Jennifer I'm not looking forward to," Elizabeth said.

"Right, right, I'm supposed to be there too, though it's a total waste of my time. Teyla handles all our negotiations." He paused. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"So, Keller…?"

"We have to discuss some of the research projects Medical has been handling."

Rodney wasn't interested in the voodoo practices or any of the biosciences except where they intersected with chemistry and sometimes robotics aimed prosthetics. His various brushes with programming nanites had left him with even less interest in the sort of playing God doctors indulged in.

"Good to know. I'll just…" He waved his apple aimlessly. "Let you have your dinner and get out of here."

"Good night, Rodney," she told him with gentle good humor, before he left.

Day One

Atlantis.17751.129.5082116
MR3-331.1.5.15.0514

Local 05:14 hrs

Dawn always touched the tops of the towers first. Down at sea level, the darkness lingered, the towers' own shadows trapping it. Lorne had painted and patrolled the city often enough that he knew the western side of the base of B Two, the primarily residential tower with the beautiful balconies and pedestrian bridges to the control tower, wouldn't see direct light until the midafternoon. On this world, the fog that curled through the city hid everything at sea level most mornings and condensed to run like tear tracks down the walls. The moisture left corroded, coppery-green stains on the metal.

He pulled his gaze down from the glittering bronze and gold tower tops, down to the ground, to the gray and the red, all the red. He closed his eyes briefly, but could still see her, splayed out, command red shirt and crimson blood, blood dried brown in a pool beneath her head, all darkened and wet on the clay red deck.

The marine security patrol that found her waited nearby, miserable and wet with fog, hands clutching their weapons, young faces pale and shocked. They were watching Lorne, waiting for him to do what had to be done.

He lifted his hand to his headset and contacted the duty officer, giving orders to have security teams close off the sky bridge between the towers, the nearest transporters, and one to report to the base of B Two with some kind of tape or ribbon, cameras and whatever they could rig up to use as evidence kits.

Once they had reported and secured the scene, he motioned the two marines from patrol to follow him and took the transporter to the control room.

In the control room, he spoke with Sgt. Campbell quietly and waited while he opened the command channel and called the Colonel and Dr. McKay, before taking the two marines with him into Weir's office to wait, ousting her new assistant Gilmor unceremoniously.

Teal'c kept pace with Ronon effortlessly, John noted as they sprinted over a catwalk spanning one of the vast, empty industrial spaces. Four sets of pounding footfalls echoed back from above and below. John lengthened his stride, matching the rhythm that vibrated through the metal grid under foot.

Mitchell had gone red-faced and wet about the time Ronon led them in a sprint up the stairs of one of the outlying towers, but he wasn't giving up. John was in a little better shape, because he hadn't tried to match Ronon's pace up the steps. Ronon's legs were longer and a decade younger than his. He pushed himself a little harder and passed Teal'c at the halfway point, trusting that even Ronon would quit soon or they'd miss the first serving of breakfast in the mess hall. His lungs still burned and he heard Mitchell pant something obscene behind him.

John's mouth twitched into a smile. He'd offer to let Mitchell ride along when he took a jumper out later to ease the sting of getting beaten, but he didn't feel like spending twenty hours trapped with a jittery pain in the ass. He'd already done it once, since they'd been deploying relay buoys beyond the edge of the solar system to establish a new long range sensor net for Atlantis. McKay at least could take over co-pilot duties off and on and was frankly more entertaining, too.

The chirp of the radio in his ear almost came as a relief. "Control to Colonel Sheppard." Campbell must have arrived for his shift early again; John recognized his voice. His relief faded fast. He knew that screwed-down-tight tone too, even over the tinny radio transmission. He changed his path and headed for the nearest transporter.

He brought his hand to his ear and activated his headset, panting, "Sheppard here."

"Colonel Sheppard, we have a situation. Possible security breach and a fatality. Major Lorne is waiting to brief you."

"I'm on my way." He turned on a burst of speed and yelled, "Ronon! Keep your radio on and take care of them, I'm on my way to Control."

"Sheppard!" Mitchell yelled, but John ignored him.

He threw himself into the transporter before the doors were fully open, nearly bounced off the back wall and stabbed the central tower as a destination immediately. The doors closed, he blinked, pulled in a harsh breath, and they were opening again into the corridor off the control room. Sunshine spilled through a window onto the floor as he launched himself out and headed straight for Elizabeth's office.

The glass walls were transparent for the moment. He could see Lorne waiting inside, along with two marines. He knew both of them were security patrol. His stomach rolled in apprehension of what they had to be there to report. Security breach repeated in his mind and all the variations of what that could mean.

Campbell looked sick as John went by. "Sergeant," John said. "Have you called McKay yet?"

"Yes sir. He's on his way."

He nodded and kept walking. "Good."

Both marines came to rigid attention as John came. "At ease," he told them absently. Lorne met his eyes.

"Where's Dr. Weir?" John asked.

Lorne swallowed.

"She's dead, sir."

"Control to Dr. McKay."

He tapped his radio and snapped, "McKay," as he walked out of the mess hall.

Contrary to what anyone might think, he wasn't lazy and he didn't sleep late. In particular, the first week after supplies arrived from Earth, it paid to hit the mess hall early, before the freshest foods disappeared. He'd spotted a few apples left in the kitchen last night, as well as noting the breakfast menu would include blueberry muffins.

He'd wanted to get in and out before Lee could corner him again, too.

His mind was already in the labs, however. He thought he could put Hailey to work for Zelenka until she figured out that shining on Earth didn't make her a particularly bright light in Atlantis' firmament. Colson seemed to be fitting in among the engineers for the moment. He hated to do it, but Markov could take over some of the projects that hadn't moved forward since Kavanagh left the second time. That would let Simpson concentrate on the super-energy containment materials project and keep her away from Zelenka. He couldn't assign anyone anywhere permanently until the new personnel passed the Psych department's adaptation evaluations. He had to clear an hour from the schedule for each of the new people to visit her, because some people just couldn't function offworld and the last thing they needed was another newbie having a psychotic break in a lab full of dangerous artifacts and delicate equipment.

Rodney had no problem sending the ones who couldn't take the heat back to Earth. They were always dead weight. If they couldn't adapt, they couldn't think outside the box and were useless anyway. Or they were like Katie had proved to be: simply too tied to Earth, to families or responsibilities or their old ideas of the way their lives should end up. He'd given up on all the self-aggrandizing dreams of awards and some picture-perfect life with wife and children and acclaim during the first lonely year they were out of touch and never quite been able to believe again, though he didn't stop talking about it. Then there had been Katie and she'd been almost easy to love, if only in comparison to his other impossible choices.

He missed her, missed waking together in bed and all the sweet, awkward dates they'd stumbled through, even after they were sleeping together. He missed having someone who could say they cared out loud. But Katie had written him – a real letter on paper sent via the Daedalus – that she couldn't leave her parents alone and sick, worrying about her, and apparently she'd meant it. He hadn't really thought she would change her mind.

She hadn't asked him to come back to Earth.

He swiped his hand over the transporter door sensor and stepped inside the closet-sized space once it opened.

"Please report to Control."

"I have work. Someone else can entertain the tourists." Carter wasn't really a tourist. She'd commanded for several months before Elizabeth returned. But she wasn't involved in any of the work Rodney considered urgent presently and the rest of their 'guests' were just a waste of his time in his opinion. He thought they were all scheduled to attend a meeting in the main conference room later anyway.

"Dr. McKay, we have a situation."

Rodney stopped with his hand hovering over the destination point for the lab sector. The breakfast he'd just consumed didn't sit so well, but he was grateful for it. 'Situation' was command code for something too delicate to broadcast even over the encrypted command channel. It encompassed everything that wasn't so desperate that they yelled it in the clear for lack of time but was too important or dangerous to trust that someone hadn't hacked the encryption to monitor it just for fun. Which meant he might not have another chance to eat a real meal for hours or even days. "Crap," he muttered and touched the control tower destination instead. "On my way."

Chuck pointed to Elizabeth's office as soon as Rodney arrived, then hunched over his console. Rodney swore he saw the man wipe at his eyes surreptitiously. Bad sign, very bad sign. Chuck didn't rattle easily.

He waved open the office door and walked inside in time to hear Lorne say someone was dead. Sheppard was still in his running gear, hair spikier than ever with sweat, arms folded over his chest. Rodney watched his expression empty.

"Who is dead?" he asked. "And where's Elizabeth? Shouldn't she be here too?"

"Dr. Weir," Lorne said, looking rather ill himself.

"What?" Rodney knew he must look and sound stupid, but Lorne's words didn't make any sense. He was on a first name basis with Elizabeth, he didn't need to use her title…

"Major," Sheppard said in a low, dangerous voice. "Report."

Lorne gave a jerky nod and stood even straighter. He couldn't conceal the strain in his voice. "At 0438, Security Patrol Gamma – Gomez and Evans – from first shift radioed me. They'd discovered a body at the base of B Two and visually identified it as Dr. Weir's. I ordered them to maintain station until I arrived and confirmed the identification. At that point, I ordered marines to secure both ends of the pedestrian bridge leading from B Two to Control, as it appears she fell from it, the nearest transporter hubs and the scene, before radioing Control to notify you, Colonel. I left the body in situ."

Sheppard nodded.

Rodney shook his head. "You can't be right. Elizabeth…That's not possible." They'd only got her back less than a year ago. They were standing in her office, with her knickknacks back on her desk. She couldn't be dead.

"Sir," Lorne said.

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding up his hand to stop Lorne from saying anything more. It didn't seem real, but he knew that wouldn't change it being true. "Okay." He let out a long breath, pretending it didn't hitch from the tight ache in his throat, opened his eyes again and looked at Sheppard. "Okay. What do we do next?"

"Go to the scene," Sheppard said.

Rodney flinched but nodded. He wouldn't be able to accept it until he'd seen for himself and he thought Sheppard felt the same way.

He hoped Sheppard felt the same. His face gave nothing away and the fast flutter of his pulse at his neck could be left over from running with Ronon. Sheppard smiled or laughed, teased and whispered, even yelled. He presented a full range of emotion most days, but always under the tightest control. Rodney had never seen him break down; he'd never seen Sheppard cry – not that he wanted that, because it would take something terrible, something so bad Rodney couldn't imagine it really – but sometimes he wished Sheppard would let the control slip, instead of doling out little glimpses or locking himself down tighter. He wanted to see some sign that this was getting to Sheppard, that he'd cared more for Elizabeth than as a colleague, because he wanted to believe Sheppard cared, period. Even though he knew now wasn't the time or place for Sheppard to do any of that, it still angered him that Sheppard didn't show anything.

"Then we need to bring in Keller or Biro," Sheppard went on. "Biro preferably, she's the closest we have to a medical examiner." He turned to the two marines. "You didn't contact anyone but Major Lorne?"

"No sir," Gomez confirmed. "It was…we could tell there wasn't anything to do."

"And you didn't touch or move the body?"

"No sir!" both Gomez and Evans said.

Sheppard nodded. "Good. Go back to your quarters." He checked his watch. "I want a report from each of you before the end of first shift at 0700. After that, you can hit the mess for something to eat, but keep your mouths shut. Dismissed." Fat chance they wouldn't start babbling to the first fellow marine they saw, but Sheppard wasn't the sort of officer to confine them.

Both men nodded and escaped out of the office, leaving Rodney, Sheppard and Lorne.

"Christ," Sheppard exclaimed softly. He looked away from them now and his Adam's apple worked as he swallowed. The audible breath he drew in gave away the emotion he didn't show on his face and Rodney felt ashamed of his previous thoughts.

Lorne just nodded.

Rodney stared at the carved bowls and figures Elizabeth had restored to her desk once she returned. It occurred to him that while they were standing in silence, her body was lying in the open at B Two. Not right, so terribly not right, he felt a jittery need to bolt, as though he could protect her from the elements. He couldn't, he knew, and he had to keep his head. He didn't even know – "Major. How did she…What happened?"

"It looked to me like she must have fallen from the sky bridge."

Sheppard flinched. "That's more than a hundred stories up."

"Yes sir."

"Jesus Christ." Sheppard unfolded his arms and reached for his radio. "Teyla? This is Sheppard."

Her answer sounded through Rodney's headset too. He kept the channel for the team's operational frequency open whenever he had it on. A command channel transmission would override it, but nothing else. It let him keep track of the other three through the day. Not that he meant to ever admit it, but he enjoyed their background chatter. When he was working, Sheppard's exchanges with Control and the rest of the team were an excellent gauge of how Atlantis was functioning.

"Colonel Sheppard."

"Can you get to the conference room and babysit Woolsey and the rest of our visitors? Something's come up. Get Chuck to send out for coffee and muffins from the mess. Just keep them in there until I radio you."

"Of course. But can Elizabeth not – "

"No. Just, stall them, Teyla. And tell Ronon to keep an eye on Mitchell and Teal'c. He can take them to the gym."

"We will do so, Colonel."

"Sheppard, out."

"Done?" Rodney asked.

"Yes."

"Then let's get this over with." His voice broke a little.

Sheppard looked at him for one breath, still otherwise, then nodded just once. "Major, let's go."

She was lying on her back. Her eyes were open, gone opaque already, and her body looked wrong, collapsed into itself, twisted, untenanted. Everything broken inside her, Rodney surmised, bones, flesh, all crushed on impact. Blood saturated her clothes and bone had pierced her skin. Bile crept up his throat until he swallowed hard, forcing everything back down. Sheppard stared longer than he could. Rodney had to jerk his gaze away, lift his face and stare up at the rich near-violet of the sky at the zenith. He had to squint to make out the silhouette of the bridge far above them. Didn't people lose consciousness and have heart attacks when they fell far enough? He hoped that was right. He didn't want to think of Elizabeth falling, accelerating until impact, and aware the entire time.

He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus; the wrong light making his eyes water. He hadn't gotten used to the difference yet, the different colors of Atlantis' newest home. The moon rotated faster than Earth, twenty-one hours to a day. Dust in the atmosphere dyed its sky in shades most habitable planets couldn't boast.

That same strange light dyed the body's exposed skin a grayish-lavender.

Lorne coughed. "I keep thinking, sir, that if she…well, she wouldn't have jumped," he said.

Rodney glanced at the body again, despite himself, then pictured it tumbling down from the heights. Maybe she hadn't jumped, but she could have fallen. It wasn't impossible. But was it likely?

More likely than Elizabeth throwing herself off the sky bridge.

"Let's get Keller here to make it…" Sheppard stopped and looked away for a few moments. "To make it official." His gaze lifted toward the bridge, distant and dark, details lost against the sky's glare. "Rodney. I want to get up there and see if there's any sign of what happened."

"I'll go with you," Rodney said. He didn't want to stay with the body.

Sheppard gestured him toward the same transporter they'd used to travel from the control room. When Rodney passed him, he caught a whiff of souring sweat over the iodine-laced breeze from the ocean all around them.

They were both silent in the transporter, for the breath it took between hubs and stepped out into the face of two blank-faced marines on guard.

"Sir," one of the said, acknowledging Sheppard.

"Has anyone tried to come through here?"

"Doctors Kusanagi and Johnson, sir. We directed them to take the transporter directly to the lab sector."

"Good job."

Sheppard walked out onto the bridge. Rodney followed him. He'd never liked the bridge. He understood why the Ancients had used it: if the transporters were down it saved time running down and then up stairs in both towers; but Atlantis couldn't afford the gravity field generators that the Ancients had used to keep anyone from falling, throwing or being pushed over the edge of the rails on the otherwise open span, making it far more dangerous than had been intended when they constructed it. The metallic grids flooring the bridge responded to Sheppard's weight and Rodney felt the vibration through his boots and frowned. He hadn't liked it the first time he walked out there and he did even less now.

"Sheppard," he said. "Slow down."

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder. The regular smirk and taunt didn't materialize, though. His, "Yes, Rodney," sounded serious instead indulgent or mocking. His pace slowed until Rodney was walking in stride with him. They were three quarters across when they both spotted the break in the railing.

A section had broken and torn loose. Broken pieces of railing hung on connectors that had twisted and warped under their weight.

Rodney eyed the open space it left. The metal appeared corroded in places, discolored rather than the shiny bright he would have expected. He didn't like the way the entire bridge creaked with each gust of the wind that whined through the towers this high up. "Damn it," he said. "Sheppard, tell your men down there to keep clear from beneath this thing. It looks like several pieces are ready to fall any minute."

"On it," Sheppard said and did so, warning the marines, while Rodney fought a sudden fear of heights to creep in a little closer. One of Elizabeth's shoes had caught, pinned by a twist of metal. A fragment of red fabric fluttered on a sharp spike of dangling metal. He hadn't seen any tears in the front of her shirt. Any rip must have been concealed under her back.

The bridge groaned as Sheppard inched closer. Rodney shivered. The wind gusted damp and grasping and made him want to clutch at the grid under him, chilling him everywhere but where Sheppard's presence blocked it.

Rodney pointed to the scrap. "See that?"

Sheppard's breath ghosted over Rodney's cheek as he spoke. "Her back hit the railing?"

"That's what it looks like to me," Rodney agreed. "The whole city is much more than ten thousand years old, it's been half-flooded, strafed and bombed by the Wraith, and maybe the railing just gave away under her weight."

"Maybe," Sheppard said. "If she was leaning back against it…"

Rodney turned his head, reading the same skepticism in Sheppard's expression he felt himself.

"In the middle of the night. Sure."

Sheppard's gaze flicked to the end of the bridge. "She might have been on her way to Control or her office." He blinked twice, some emotion Rodney couldn't guess at making his lips tighten into a line.

"She might have been taking a midnight stroll," Rodney snapped, "but it doesn't really matter. She's dead." He stopped and swallowed the rest of his sharp words. "Damn it."

"Yeah," Sheppard said. His hand, heavy but comforting, closed on Rodney's shoulder and stayed there as he straightened up, pulling Rodney up with him. "Let's get out of here."

They made it back to the residential tower, but stopped where the wind would keep the marine guards from hearing their words. "You don't think this was an accident," Rodney said, keeping his voice low anyway.

"Do I look stupid?"

"Frankly, often, but I haven't been fooled by the act for years."

Sheppard winced, then murmured, "You might still be surprised, McKay," while staring past him. The wind flattened his hair against side of his skull. Without words, they both shifted until their backs were to it. Rodney shuddered at the damp gusts against the back of his neck and hunched over.

"I doubt it."

He didn't even get a shrug in response. "We need to get someone with a camera up here, video preferably too, and record the scene, then gather any evidence for analysis. – This is going to be a nightmare. Woolsey and O'Neill being here will only make it worse."

"Why are they still here? The Daedalus left last night."

Sheppard shrugged. "No one's told me anything." They shared a glance filled with how much that disturbed them both too.

Rodney gestured to the security camera set up to monitor the transporter hub and corridor before it opened onto the bridge. "I can spend my time more usefully by accessing the feeds from the system. Between that and the one on the Control hub, we should have a good idea of what happened and who was there within an hour."

"Don't you need my or Elizabeth's code as well as yours to access the files?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney snorted at that. "Theoretically yes, but I'm perfectly capable of hacking the system. Not that I'll need to, since I have your codes and Elizabeth's, along with Sam's when she was in charge and Caldwell's command codes for the Daedalus." He'd made a point of obtaining overrides for the Apollo too. He didn't trust Ellis. He didn't say that.

"Don't let me keep you, then," Sheppard said.

"I'll meet you in Elizabeth's office as soon as you're done?"

"Give me an hour."

"Dr. Keller is here, sirs," Lorne's voice whispered from the earpieces.

"Thank you, Major," Sheppard said and added to Rodney, "I should get back down there."

Rodney waited until Sheppard had stepped into the transporter. The doors opened a moment later, the alcove empty again. He stepped inside and tapped his destination. As soon as he had the security footage they could review it, do whatever needed to be done, and start figuring out what happened now, without Elizabeth.

Someone would have to go the Earth and tell her mother. Maybe O'Neill or Woolsey could do that. It would get them off Atlantis as an added bonus.

Jennifer was copying data to flashdrives and deleting everything she could from the servers, working from her office. The one that still had a calendar showing the Highlands on the wall the desk faced, years past the day anyone stopped flipping the months. She'd spent most of the night in one of the biolabs destroying all her samples. The radio headset tucked over her ear, as much a part of every day in Atlantis as wearing shoes, clicked when it activated, alerting her before the words that followed.

"Control to Dr. Keller. Report to B Two Level One immediately. Acknowledge."

"This is Keller. Is this urgent? Do I need a medical team?" Was it already beginning? She'd thought she'd have more time. Elizabeth hadn't indicated anyone else was privy to the medical records, but Woolsey was in Atlantis again and Biro had some of Carson's notes. Jennifer hadn't been able to justify asking for them, so she didn't know if he'd given his friend access to the password locked information or not.

She still thought she'd been right, even if Elizabeth hadn't agreed.

"Report to B Two Level One Quadrant One immediately."

"Right," she commented to herself and she locked the flashdrives with her experimental data in the small safe every department head had before rising. "Like that helps. Where the hell is B Two Level One?" She never could keep the three dimensional grid system used to map the city straight in her head. Everything radiated out from the center where the control tower stood, that was Alpha, she reminded herself, while grabbing a portable emergency kit to take with her. Act normal, she told herself. She tapped her radio again. "Control, which one is Level One again?"

The expected chuckle didn't sound in her ear, just a terse, "Ground floor, residential next to Control on the west side, Doctor. Security has been notified to expect your arrival. Coordinate with Major Lorne, please."

Okay. When Chuck got that serious, something was wrong. Chuck had been running the Control room day shift (and more than one night shift too) as long as Jennifer had been stationed in Atlantis. He never gave away much, maybe because he'd been around since the beginning. She knew that another man, Dr. Grodin, had originally been in charge, but he'd died before she arrived with the second wave of personnel. Chuck was a fixture of Atlantis, as much as McKay, Sheppard, Zelenka, Teyla or Weir.

She stopped next to Marie Ko, her head nurse, and said, "Ask Dr. Cole to take over in the infirmary if anything comes up before I'm back, okay?" Alice Biro was on night shift and probably asleep. Her other choice was the new guy, Kriga, who still radioed for directions from his quarters to the infirmary.

"Do you need a team?" Marie asked.

"I might. Get everything ready, just in case. I really don't know what I'm going to be dealing with, Control didn't say."

She continued out of the infirmary to the nearest transporter hub. She'd grown so used to the flash of light and then the doors opening on her destination immediately, she barely thought about it, and just nodded to the two marines stationed outside the doors as they slid open again, trying to hide how twitchy she felt after sitting up all night.

"That way, ma'am," one of them said and nodded.

Jennifer glimpsed Major Lorne and then the body, recognizing it as she approached, her steps slowing. "Oh my God."

"Doctor," Lorne said. "I don't think there's any doubt, but we need you to make it official."

The state of Elizabeth Weir's body made what happened obvious. Jennifer said nothing, just nodded. She sank down to her knees and began doing all the things that went with calling a death. As she did, Lorne told her, "We need to record the scene. I've got someone on the way, don't shift anything you don't have to until he's here."

Jennifer considered that while Sgt. Olawayo photographed everything, followed by Corporal Middleton with a video camera, and afterward as she worked. She didn't like the implications one bit. Working for the SGC meant facing up to dangers from enemies as alien as Replicators, Goa'uld, and Wraith. In some ways, it shielded them from facing up to the threats that weren't alien and all the ugly things human beings did to each other.

The prospect of how messy this could get made her almost wish for news the city had been infiltrated by a Wraith or a Genii saboteur.

She hated herself for it, but as she called for her medical team and a gurney, as Lorne and a marines gently lifted lifeless flesh and laid the corpse into a body bag, Jennifer wondered what this would mean for her and the work she'd taken upon herself to finish. What she'd done last night…had it been necessary?

Elizabeth hadn't specifically authorized it, but she hadn't asked for details when Jennifer proposed restarting the project with a slightly readjusted goal. Of course, Elizabeth had benefited from the very beginning. Without the advances Jennifer had pioneered using what they'd learned from Iratus proto-retrovirus, Elizabeth might have spent decades in stasis, too damaged to live without the nanites. Instead she'd been healed and cleansed of all nanite or Asuran infection. The regenerative possibilities were almost unlimited, but she knew too many people were scared of what could go wrong. Even Elizabeth had begun asking questions after her last physical, questions that had resulted in the meeting scheduled for later in the day. Jennifer had been worried since Woolsey and SG-1 arrived.

Now, though, she couldn't guess what would happen. McKay might be swayed to her side, but she couldn't imagine Sheppard allowing her to continue her work. He had been against using the nanites on Elizabeth and this project cut even closer to the bone.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself, following as the gurney was rolled to the transporter. She thought she might be close to something that would be viable as a generalized treatment, but not close enough to overcome the objections most people would voice. She wasn't Beckett, no one automatically trusted her, even though she wasn't the one who had almost turned their military commander into a giant predatory bug.

The gurney rattled and one edge hit a doorway never designed to clear something its width with people on each side too. The body bag shifted where one of the webbing straps securing it had worked loose.

Jennifer steadied herself against the doorway, overwhelmed suddenly by the realization that that was Elizabeth. Losing Elizabeth was much more and worse than an inconvenience to Jennifer's research. No, she hadn't been a personal friend, but Elizabeth had been someone she had liked as well as respected and obeyed, a woman who had labored to keep Atlantis and all within it safe since the day she set foot in the city. A body Jennifer had fought to keep alive on more than one occasion. Only this time the war had been lost before Jennifer ever reached the battlefield.

It was still Elizabeth's office. Rodney suspected that, in his mind, it always would be; that certainly hadn't changed during Carter's tenure, before they got Elizabeth back. He grimaced as he marched in and set his laptop on the desk.

All the blood and terror and lives that had been sacrificed to conduct the second raid on M7R-227 to rescue Elizabeth and now she was dead. Rodney had to breathe hard and hold still to keep from losing it. John and Lorne had nearly died on that mission. Kagan and DeLorenzo had.

He and Keller had broken their backs finding a way to replace the nanites keeping Elizabeth alive with organic cells. They'd kept her in stasis with the nanites shut down to keep her from rejoining the Asuran merge for months. He still didn't understand exactly what Keller had done to accelerate the cellular regeneration while he reprogrammed the nanites to break themselves down so that her body could flush them out, but it had given them Elizabeth back. Until today.

This time there would be no miracle save; there were no reservoirs of nanites left in Elizabeth's body to reactivate and rebuild her and even a Goa'uld sarcophagus couldn't undo death after all cellular activity failed.

He needed ten minutes, just ten minutes – though he'd prefer a lifetime – to be alone, in his quarters, in the lab, on a balcony, he didn't care where, just so he could shout out his anger and the sheer misery inside. There was never enough time, though, never enough time to process, to even think, and there was always something he had to do. Maybe, if he was lucky – lucky didn't exactly mean the same thing anymore – he'd have time to mourn Elizabeth, another friend lost, before the end of the week. Right now, he had to help find out how she'd died.

God forgive him, he couldn't keep from thinking about what would happen to Atlantis without her even as he worked. O'Neill and Woolsey wouldn't try to put Carter back in charge, would they? His thoughts ran around his brain like a bunch of hamsters on speed, working back and forth between apprehension and fury. What would happen to Atlantis and what the hell had happened on that sky bridge?

The ache under his sternum was a feeling he'd learned to work around.

He paused to opaque the glass walls of the office and then bent over the desk to type. Using Elizabeth's chair felt too much like an invasion. His command codes yielded up the surveillance recordings from the night before without difficulty. He pulled up the feeds from the cameras focused on the transporter hubs and stairwell landings, wanting to have answers before Sheppard made it back, demanding, "What's the situation?"

Rodney glanced up, winced at the ache in his neck and back, and then bent his attention to screen again. Sheppard had showered and dressed in uniform. "I've got the surveillance video."

Sheppard walked around the desk so that he could watch over Rodney's shoulder. Rodney began with the video of the sky bridge. "This is from 2100 to 0700," he said. "I'll start from this morning and roll it back. It should show us whoever was out on the bridge last night."

The screen showed them a grainy black-and-white picture of the bridge, receding from the camera eye in perfect illustration of artistic vanishing point. Images of Rodney and Sheppard walking on and then off the bridge in reverse appeared. In other circumstances, he would have twitted Sheppard over how dorky he looked, prompting Sheppard to mock him in retaliation, until someone, usually Teyla or Elizabeth, put a stop to their banter. Rodney just watched silently though as the video feed emptied, the counter showing the minutes tick back and back, with no sign of anyone passing to or from B Two via the bridge.

"Rodney," Sheppard said.

Rodney frowned. The counter ticked from 0001 back to 2100. "Just a minute, okay? I thought…" He pulled the file holding the feed from 1400 to 2100. Cued it to play in reverse. Elizabeth had been in the mess hall around 1900, as usual picking up her dinner late. They'd crossed paths only because he'd stopped in to snag some of the last fresh fruit from the supply delivery. He'd complained about Bill Lee again and she'd nodded, probably not listening to him at all, before they'd both gone their own ways.

Presuming she'd gone back to her quarters and eaten her dinner, so she had to show up on the feed soon. There just wasn't that much time between when he'd seen her and 2100.

"Rodney," Sheppard said again. "I'm not seeing anything useful."

The sky bridge video remained empty as the counter reached 1900. Then 1800. It finally showed a clutch of Control room personnel including Chuck, Venket, Nandimer, and Kelso crossing. No Elizabeth.

"I know."

No Elizabeth, no murderer, and, Rodney realized, frowning at the laptop, no sign of the break in the sky bridge's railing.

"That's not possible," he snapped. He double checked the date stamp for the file, then stared blankly, letting his mind run through the possibilities. He jumped back to the first file and fast forwarded through it. Same, same, same, it was all the same until he and Sheppard walked out onto the bridge. Too much the same. Then back, slowing down until he stopped at 0200. The angle didn't show much of the broken rail, but the flutter of movement on the left side came from that piece of Elizabeth's shirt they'd both seen.

Rodney moved the recording back to 0159. The flutter of movement, the different shadows, were gone. The screen showed the bridge whole and empty.

"It's been altered," he said.

He was abruptly aware of Sheppard, of his body heat so close, of his utter stillness. Sheppard wasn't even breathing and Rodney's body had long since learned to interpret that as danger. It made him want to babble. "A loop or a splice. I'll have to have it analyzed, but it doesn't matter which. Someone got into it."

Sheppard's breath gusted against his neck, making the hairs at the nape prickle. "How much expertise would it take for someone to manage that?"

Rodney twitched nervously. "Some. Okay, a lot, because it supposedly takes command codes to access it, but really, half, no two thirds of the people here could manage it, one way or another. It's even possible the cameras were physically modified, though frankly that's just messy compared to what a good hacker could manage."

The electric sense of danger Rodney had been getting from Sheppard suddenly dissipated. He twisted his head to the side and studied him. Sheppard was still tense, eyes narrowed and gaze on the paused picture, his lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. He blinked and then frowned. "Could Elizabeth have used her command code to do it herself?"

"Why would she do that?" Rodney demanded.

Sheppard shrugged and stepped back. "A meeting she didn't want recorded?"

"On the sky bridge?" Rodney paused, snapped his fingers and pointed at Sheppard. "Of course, this isn't necessarily the only feed that's been modified. I need to go through everything for last night. And then go back. This might not be the first time…"

Sheppard's eyebrows had gone up but he began nodding.

"Can you do that in the next hour?"

"What!?" Rodney stared at him in disgust. "Are you insane? I can't even do it all by myself. Hours and hours and hours of security footage, Colonel. If I can figure out how the data was modified, I may be able to write a program to search through the rest of it for the same thing, but I'm a genius not a magician. I can't just wave a wand and make it so."

"Put a team on it," Sheppard told him.

"Oh, and who shall I use?" Rodney demanded. "The only person I know didn't do this is me! And, by the way, how do you know I didn't do it?"

"I don't," Sheppard said flatly.

Rodney opened his mouth and then could think of nothing to say. That hurt. He'd thought…He'd thought that at least they were in this together.

The hard look on Sheppard's face softened. "But I trust you."

The wave of relief that washed through Rodney left him lightheaded. "Oh. Well. Good. You should."

"You and Teyla and Ronon. Anyone else, not so much."

The moment stretched and Rodney – again – didn't know what to say. Sheppard was looking at him so intently. He ducked his face away and focused on the laptop again. "I should get to work on this."

"We'll find out who has alibis for the time period covered by the altered records," Sheppard said. "You can use them for your team."

"Yes." He'd begun typing again, leaning over the desk.

"You're going to ruin your back." Sheppard pulled Elizabeth's chair out, then pushed Rodney's shoulder. "Sit down."

"That's Elizabeth's chair," he objected.

"And you're going to help catch who killed her. I don't think she'd mind you using it."

Sheppard was right and he could already feel the ache in the small of his back along with the tension in his shoulders. "Okay." He sat down and rolled the chair forward into a comfortable spot, then hesitated, looking up from the laptop. "Sheppard. John."

"Yes?" Sheppard gazed back at him, emotions flickering behind his hazel eyes that Rodney couldn't keep up with even after all these years.

"Someone killed her."

Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

"One of us. I mean, not the Wraith or the Replicators or a Goa'uld. Not even the Genii." It was so damn wrong. It shouldn't have happened this way. Rodney licked his lips, then finished, "One of us. Someone from Earth. Someone on the expedition, someone who knew her."

Sheppard's gaze slid away from his and he replied in a rough voice, "Yeah. Someone." His hands came up and he pressed his fingers against closed eyelids briefly, head bowed, a shudder running through his frame. Then he straightened, snatching his hands away, stiff with embarrassment.

Rodney bent his attention to the laptop again. He'd wanted Sheppard to show some emotion, but now found he didn't want to see it. He knew Sheppard wouldn't want anyone to see. He traced back the loop feed to when it began, looking for anything that would tell him who had been responsible. Nothing distinguished how it had been done, nothing he recognized as anyone's particular style. The alteration to the security feed began at 2000 hours. That created a three hour window someone had engineered deliberately. The obvious reason was the murder of Elizabeth Weir, but Rodney cautioned himself against making such an assumption. There could be other reasons. Not that any that he thought of were any better.

He figured Sheppard had had enough time to pull himself back together and told him, still without looking up, "Three hours. 2000 to 0200. I'll start on a program to track down any other alterations." He'd never get used to the twenty-one hour military clock they were using to match MR3-331's sidereal rotation.

"I'll make sure Lorne is clear and start him on gathering alibis," Sheppard said. "Thanks."

"She was my friend."

"I know."

Sheppard radioed the infirmary. "Keller. This is Sheppard. Can you give me a preliminary report?"

Rodney could hear the squawk from the earpiece halfway across the room. He could guess at Keller's protests, but the volume dropped and he couldn't actually hear. He didn't need to, following the gist just from Sheppard's responses.

"Then get Biro in there and start. Yes. I'm authorizing it as military commander of the base. It's a suspicious death, Doctor. Fine, four to six hours. Just get on it. I want that forensic autopsy report by the end of the day."

"Colonel Sheppard. General O'Neill and Mr. Woolsey are both becoming somewhat restless," Teyla's voice murmured over the team channel.

Sheppard sighed and replied, "All right, Teyla. Tell them McKay and I will be there in a minute."

"I could be accomplishing more here or even my labs, not talking with – "

"I'm not doing this alone, McKay."

"Fine, fine. Into the lion's den or whatever." He wanted to argue mutinously, but the last thing either of them needed to do was make each other's lives harder. Not now. With a sigh of his own, he shoved Elizabeth's chair back and rose, ready to follow Sheppard to the conference room.

"I shall inform them. They wish to know where Elizabeth is." Not a hint of the curiosity and suspicion Teyla must have felt colored her tone.

"We'll tell them when we get there." Sheppard grimaced and activated his radio again. "Keller. Put Cole and Biro on the autopsy. We need you up here in the conference room. Yes. Now."

Rodney tapped his own radio, opening the channel used within the labs. He needed Zelenka on this. "Radek?"

"Yes, Rodney. Where are you? Colonel Carter and I are waiting to initiate the second series of simulations on the containment protocols and Captain Hailey has already made Opticon throw a cup of coffee at her."

"Tell Opticon to drink the coffee first and just throw the cup," Rodney said automatically.

"I have already done so," Zelenka told him placidly.

"Radek, we need you and Carter in Control. The simulations will need to wait. Just get up here."

Next to him, Sheppard was on the team channel, telling Ronon to bring Teal'c and Mitchell to the conference room.

"Now?"

"Now."

"We will be there, Rodney."

Sheppard was on the radio again, telling Lorne to report to the conference room with the video and photos of the scene as they left the office. One of the new faces, the guy brought in to act as Elizabeth's assistant, jumped up from a desk console and hurried over to them.

"Colonel. Doctor McKay. Should you have been in Dr. Weir's office without her?"

Rodney looked at him and let a little scorn and anger leak out into his voice. "Shouldn't you be doing paperwork or something?" He couldn't remember the guy's name, just a vague recognition from mutual tenures at the SGC years before. He didn't like that the guy was here now.

He trailed after them as they walked through Control. "I'm just trying to do my job. Dr. Weir hasn't assigned me any duties yet." Of course, she hadn't; no one received a permanent assignment until they were cleared by Psych. Elizabeth had explained that to all of them at the first day orientation and briefing.

"Gilmor," Sheppard said as they reached the conference room. "Go file something." The doors opened for them, despite Rodney's actual reluctance to enter.

Teyla smiled at them as they came in, though she looked slightly harassed. The smile died quickly.

O'Neill didn't appear antsy. He was sitting back in his chair, looking nearly as relaxed as Sheppard usually did, playing with a bright yellow yo-yo, while Jackson had an actual book open on the table next to his laptop and was working. Vala had draped herself over his shoulder and was pointing at the book, apparently disagreeing with Jackson over something there. Only Woolsey looked very impatient and annoyed.

He sat up straight and snapped, "Where is Dr. Weir? We have a schedule to adhere to, you realize – "

O'Neill took in Sheppard and Rodney and sat up. The yo-yo fell to the end of its string, hitting the floor. "Richard," he snapped. Woolsey's teeth clicked as he reacted, closing his mouth mid-sentence. "What's up, guys?"

"A couple of our people and yours are on their way," Sheppard told him. "Let's wait and do this just once."

"All right," O'Neill drawled. "We'll wait. This had better be good."

"Oh, no, it isn't," Rodney blurted out. O'Neill gave him that look, but didn't bite. Instead, he picked up the yo-yo and tucked it into a pocket, miming great patience.

Jackson and Vala were watching them now too, field team instincts alerting them to something wrong. "I take it we won't be discussing second contact diplomatic protocols after all?" Jackson asked. He closed the book, then his laptop, and then put away his glasses. Light flashed off the lenses briefly. Vala sat down in the chair next to him. Her gaze moved between Rodney and Sheppard, watchful and curious.

Rodney took a seat far enough from anyone else that his work couldn't be seen and began searching the records again. Sheppard stayed on his feet and there was the tension again; normally Sheppard would have sprawled in the nearest chair or leaned a hip on the conference table, instead of standing still enough to telegraph how much he wanted to move. Rodney kept his own gaze down or trained outside the windows, because he didn't want to meet Teyla's eyes. She could read his own too well.

The conference room always seemed dark, despite having a door and windows opening onto another balcony. The ceiling was low by Atlantis' standards and the only lights were those on the walls, lit only halfway up from the floor. They'd oriented the city to the same angle as on Lantea, so that the balcony looked to the direction of the sunset. It meant the room always felt cold in the mornings.

The sky, glimpsed through the windows, looked gray and the nearest tower glistened dark and still wet. Two of the native fliers, which biology reported were neither avian nor reptile, soared by. Their large, iridescent scales glittered as they banked through the towers, long tails trailing behind them. Their eyes were on the bottom of their flat, manta-like bodies and they used a echo-location cry that creeped out everyone who heard it, like a horror movie scream that shuddered through your gut. The shrieks made the transparent material the Ancients had used as glass shiver. They were fishers, diving under the water to hunt and floating on the surface to rest, but they'd begun using Atlantis as perches, winding those long whiptails around balcony rails to hang upside down like bats day and night.

Ronon came in along with Teal'c and Mitchell. They looked around and found seats. Ronon leaned against a wall, a little to the side and behind Sheppard. "Who are we waiting on, exactly?" Mitchell asked Jackson.

"I'm not sure," Jackson replied sotto voce. "Maybe Doctor Weir."

"Sheppard took off earlier, during our run."

The doors opened again, allowing Zelenka and Carter to enter. They separated as they entered. Zelenka took a seat one down from Rodney, while Carter joined SG-1. Before the doors had finished closing, Lorne and Keller arrived. Keller had a tablet PC with her. Lorne had a flash drive that he handed to Rodney as he passed. They found places at the table on the Atlantis side.

"That's everyone," Sheppard said.

"Where is Doctor Weir?" Woolsey asked.

"Dr. Weir is why we're all here," Sheppard declared. He stepped forward and straightened to attention. "Dr. Weir is dead."

Mitchell had been rocking his chair back on two legs. The other two hit the floor with a crack.

O'Neill's eyes narrowed. "How?"

Sheppard looked back at him and said, "It looks like murder." He gestured toward Keller, who cringed when everyone's eyes followed.

With an audible gulp, Keller said, "We have her body in the infirmary. Doctor Biro is conducting an autopsy right now. After examining the scene, the preliminary cause of death appears to be from a fall, but there's the possibility that she could have been deceased before that or drugged or…"

"Murder?" Woolsey repeated. His gaze darted to O'Neill and something that seemed agreed upon passed between them. Perspiration shone on his high forehead, while his wide mouth turned down in an expression of deep unhappiness and dismay. "This is extremely alarming. Have you caught the perpetrator?"

Rodney almost recoiled from Woolsey's sudden intensity.

Beside him, Zelenka had begun to mutter. "No, this cannot be true. Dr. Weir is too important and far too well liked. I do not understand." He turned toward Rodney. "Please, tell me this is an extremely tasteless joke, Rodney."

"I'm sorry, Radek, I wish I could."

"But this…how could this happen?"

"McKay," Sheppard said. "Could you – "

"Yes. I can – " He tapped a series of commands in and the holographic display screen at the far end of the room lit with cut away presentation of the city in silhouette. He highlighted the control tower and B Two next to it, rotating the image to show the sky bridge between them. He marked the sky bridge and then the sea level deck where the patrol had found Elizabeth. A single red line connected them. "Elizabeth fell, very likely pushed, from the sky bridge sometime between 2000 hours last night and 0200 hours. We know this because the security recordings of the bridge have been tampered with, replacing video of what happened with a loop that fails to show the break in the railing Colonel Sheppard and I both observed this morning on examining it."

"Who could have tampered with the security video?" O'Neill asked.

Rodney looked at him. "Aside from myself, Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir?" He shrugged. "We don't have a shortage of smart people here, General. In this room, I'd say that Radek and Colonel Carter are more than skilled enough to manage it and I wouldn't bet that Ms. Mal Doran, Dr. Jackson, or Mr. Woolsey might not have the skills, whether they'd admit it or not. I wouldn't bet you don't."

"So, no easy list of possible suspects," O'Neill concluded.

"No," Sheppard confirmed.

"And that's assuming that it was just one person," Jackson said.

"Oh, thank you, that makes everything much easier." Rodney glared at him.

Rodney turned the flash drive Lorne had handed him into his fingers. He really didn't want to view it. But his wants didn't count for much, he knew.

Sheppard said, "Let's keep the conspiracy theories on a back burner for now."

Rodney loaded the data on the flash drive and clicked the first file labeled Weir, E.: Body in situ. A list of stills popped up and he highlighted the first. It appeared in a window next to the city diagram, brutally graphic next to cool lines of the cut away. Zelenka's breath hitched and he dropped his gaze to the table, saying, "I cannot look at this." Rodney saw Lorne averting his own eyes, too. The litany of Satedan curses growled at a nearly subsonic level behind him came from Ronon, while Teyla whispered, "Oh, Elizabeth." Keller and Sheppard were silent, inured perhaps because the scene had already been seared into them.

Rodney clicked through the rest of the photos, different angles, close ups, everything documented in black and white and color, down to the terrible vulnerability of one pale, bared foot. "On Earth, a fall of thirty-two stories, presuming each story is fifteen feet, will achieve terminal velocity. Elizabeth – " His voice broke and he found some refuge in explaining the simple physics. "Elizabeth fell much farther than that. The amount of energy at impact relates more to velocity than mass and can be expressed as KE=½mv². Kinetic energy is transformed to mechanical energy, potential energy, and a minor amount is released as heat. The mechanical energy is absorbed by the body and the impact surface. Tissue injury results from the body absorbing the energy accumulated during the fall upon deceleration." He clicked to the next picture. "Physics in action."

"Dear God," Woolsey muttered at one point, elbow propped on the conference table, covering his face with one hand, and proving he was human.

With each new picture, Sheppard was studying a different face, watching all their reactions, and Rodney slowed down so that he'd have the time he needed to catalogue them all.

Teal'c, stonefaced and silent, devoted his attention to each image in a manner that communicated respect. He would study each picture. If there were something to see, to gain from them, it would not go unmarked.

Carter winced each time, looking pained.

Vala's mobile features had paled, but shock took a distant place to calculation. She was watching everyone on the Atlantis side of the conference table. Taking apart their reactions, Rodney realized, or trying to parse them, because while biologically they were all – even Jaffa, even the Alterrans once – some version of human; yet, psychologically, they were all alien to each other. Not just Vala and Teal'c, Ronon and Teyla, who were alien to Earth. There were other divides besides the one they'd fallen into in the conference room, choosing their places unconsciously: Earth opposite Atlantis. A hundred other chasms cleaved between each of them, until they were cut so fine no one could ever know another truly. The wonder was that any two people could agree on any 'truth'. Maybe everyone only thought they did. Elizabeth hadn't thought so, though; she'd believed that if both sides would only attempt it, a bridge could always be built.

The irony of that made Rodney's mouth twist downward. Bridges failed.

"That's just gruesome," Mitchell said. "Can we stop with the slide show from hell?"

Ronon growled.

"Mitchell," O'Neill said, silencing him.

"The autopsy won't be finished for several hours," Keller said. "I'd like to get back to the infirmary. I can't hurry the tests, but I can help get more done."

Sheppard nodded to her and she slipped out of the conference room, the red doors rotating open then closing behind her soundlessly. "I'm assigning Major Lorne to begin interviewing personnel, checking alibis. All interviews will be recorded and in the presence of a civilian. Either myself, Teyla, Ronon or Dr. Zelenka until we have a cadre cleared." His expression gave nothing away as he told O'Neill, "All of you will be questioned as well."

"I can tell you right now, I was down in the jumper bay last night. Didn't see a soul," O'Neill said easily. "Does that put me on the suspect list?"

"Yes."

"There's one more thing to get clear," Rodney said, startling everyone. He lifted his hands away from the laptop and then shoved his chair back before standing. John caught his gaze with a searching glance, then gave a tiny nod, giving way.

"Colonel Sheppard already outlined how we will be handling the investigation."

Rodney looked over everyone else in the room. "According to the terms of the expedition charter, with Elizabeth gone, I'm the acting director until I'm confirmed or the IOA replaces me. "

It didn't surprise John when O'Neill lingered as the rest began filing out. Lorne had left with Teyla to begin interviews. John approved of his choice. Ronon was too intimidating and Zelenka had been too cut up. Woolsey staying behind might have made him raise his eyebrows, but not after Rodney's declaration.

Carter stopped on her way out, patting Rodney's shoulder and telling them both, "I never had the chance to work with and know her the way you did. I'm so very sorry." She was sincere. One of the things John had liked about working with her while she was in Atlantis had been that she didn't play mind games. She had a hell of lot more social skills than Rodney, had to in order to get ahead as a woman in the Air Force, but underneath she was just as devoted to knowledge. They'd had a good working relationship.

He'd back Rodney for Atlantis over her, though.

Mitchell nodded to him and chivvied her and Vala out with him, followed by Teal'c.

Rodney returned to his seat and went back to work, typing rapidly, head down, which left John facing off against a General and an IOA representative, wondering whether and which one of them would try to take over in Elizabeth's absence or if they'd accept Rodney's authority. "Sirs," he said, not as respectful as he might have been, but acknowledging them. "Something you wanted to add?"

"As a matter of fact," O'Neill answered, with a tip of his head toward the open doors. "We briefed Dr. Weir, but the things look a lot more urgent now."

"They were always urgent, General O'Neill," Woolsey objected. He still looked nearly ill. Also crow-like and out of place in his dark, Earth-style suit. "Considering the Trust attempted to destroy Atlantis at least once, I think Dr. Weir found our news important enough to move on it immediately." He coughed and finished. "In light of her death…"

"We gotta tell the Colonel here and Dr. McKay," O'Neill said. "Yeah, I know."

"Tell us what?" Rodney demanded.

John refrained from pointing out that the Trust hadn't been the only ones. The SGC had meant to destroy Atlantis at least once too, and nearly managed it as collateral damage after the attack on the Asuran homeworld sparked their immediate retaliation.

O'Neill waved the doors closed again, then rocked on his heels, sharp eyes considering John and then Rodney. He raised his eyebrows at Woolsey and received frown in response. "Go ahead then," Woolsey said finally.

"NID's been trying to run down all the rogue elements that defected to the Trust since the Kinsey mess," O'Neill said. He gaze strayed to Rodney, whose fingers had stilled on his keyboard, though he hadn't looked up from the laptop. John missed the comforting sound. It meant things were being fixed to his subconscious.

"And?" John made himself ask. O'Neill wasn't visibly armed. But O'Neill was an old pro and had been black ops. John wouldn't bet on the man not carrying some sort of weaponry. He discounted Woolsey as a physical threat; Woolsey was dangerous in other ways. His fingertips tingled from the adrenaline coursing through him. He kept a mild expression on his face, not giving away anything beyond a hint of sardonic impatience.

"Atlantis has a mole."

"Oh, for – " Rodney pushed his chair back and glared up at O'Neill. "Didn't we already go through this? Colonel Caldwell had a snake in his head. We caught him. That's done. If you are insinuating that because I worked for Simmons at Area 51 I'm compromised, I can assure you that you have taken one too many hard blows to the head, General."

"We know it's not you, McKay," O'Neill replied. "That would be too obvious. Besides, you've been vetted back to your first allergic reaction in preschool, courtesy of the CIA and Canadian intelligence both."

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and went on glaring.

"The Trust has an asset in Atlantis, a deep cover operative originally with the NID according to the information recovered from a captured agent."

"So who is it?" John made himself ask, mouth dry.

"All she knew was a codename."

"A codename," Rodney repeated. "Well, isn't that perfect. You're here to play cloak and dagger while we try to catch a murderer."

"Why SG-1? Why not the NID?" John asked. Why not Agent Barrett he wondered. Or did someone think Barrett had been compromised too?

"The minute NID becomes involved, Skorpion will go to ground. If we can't find him, then the NID will take over." O'Neill's expression soured. "I've done my best to keep them out of Atlantis."

"We briefed in Dr. Weir on our arrival and only her," Woolsey said. "Her death seems like an unlikely coincidence under the circumstances."

John shared a glance with Rodney, reading agreement in his eyes and the unhappy slant of his mouth. "You figure this Trust spy killed her?"

O'Neill shrugged. "You gotta admit it's a hell of a coincidence, Sheppard."

John shook his head. "Look, if there is a spy, do you think he'd really do anything this obvious? He'd have to be smart to have lasted this long and this just isn't smart."

"Could be he panicked," O'Neill replied.

"You need to give me everything on this – " Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed at Woolsey, demanding, "Name, name, codename."

"Scorpion," Woolsey said. "Spelled with a K."

"Going for the pretension and the melodrama, weren't they?" Rodney muttered, then continued, "I need everything on him you have. I can use it to narrow the parameters of the suspect search and exclude anyone who doesn't fit."

"You can't assume the mole killed Elizabeth," John interrupted. He narrowed his eyes. "It's too circumstantial."

"Sheppard – "

Rodney interrupted O'Neill. "We can't even assume this 'Skorpion' is real, or if he, she or it is real, is in Atlantis."

"Come on, McKay, the evidence – "

"Is pretty damn slim and points just as easily to you bringing the killer with you among the new personnel," John said, backing up Rodney automatically. He knew Rodney wanted it to be a stranger. It was understandable.

"Do you know how many departments, even entire projects, I've seen paralyzed by a counter-intelligence witch hunt?" Rodney asked. "Dropping a little disinformation into some paranoid's ear is a cheap way to tangle up the opposition. Costs nothing whether it works or not."

"I'd love to find out that was the case," O'Neill said. "But Dr. Weir is dead."

"The information NID obtained indicated Skorpion had been placed in the Atlantis expedition either in the first or second wave of personnel," Woolsey added. "A sleeper."

"Then Skorpion might even already be dead," Rodney declared.

"That would explain why the Trust had to use Caldwell and a snake when they tried to destroy Atlantis," John said. He straightened up. "We'll know when we catch the killer, one way or another. That's our first priority."

"Dr. McKay, if I might have a word with you?" Woolsey asked as O'Neill and John started out of the conference room.

Rodney hesitated, then nodded and remained. John paused at the doors and caught his gaze. No one outside the team would have caught the tiny nod of encouragement he gave, but it shored Rodney up. He could deal with a measly IOA representative. He'd stood up to Wraith, after all.

"Mr. Woolsey," he said. "I'd ask what I can do for you, but I don't actually care, and I'm confident you're going to tell me what you want anyway."

Woolsey straightened to near attention, even tugged his jacket into perfect alignment. "What I, and, by extension, the IOA want is a smoothly functioning Atlantis base."

"Then we're all united, aren't we?" Rodney replied.

"Do you know why the IOA passed over you to take the directorship previously, Dr. McKay?" Woolsey asked.

"I'd imagine because I'm not blonde, perky, universally loved, and was actually here, trying to fix the city, rather than back on Earth," Rodney said. He knew there were other reasons, but he didn't have any intention of admitting they existed much less were valid.

"The IOA objected on the grounds that you had twice when Dr. Weir was incapacitated deferred authority to the military," Woolsey snapped.

"What?"

"In the case of the 'possession' of Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard by the aliens referring to themselves as 'Phebus' and "Thalan', you allowed Colonel Caldwell to assume command."

Rodney crossed his arms and glared. He'd been busy, damn it, trying to override Elizabeth's command codes and keep that psychotic witch Phebus from gassing half the expedition in addition to killing the body of his friend.

"In the second case, after Dr. Weir was critically injured during the Replicator attack on the city, you turned command over to Colonel Sheppard, contrary to the expedition protocols."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "It was a military situation. We were retreating from an attack and I was a trifle preoccupied trying to repair city systems vital to, oh, living through the next couple hours."

Woolsey pursed his mouth. "Nonetheless, the IOA is dedicated to the proposition that Atlantis remain a civilian controlled enterprise and your actions weighed in the balance against you."

"That's utterly ridiculous!" Rodney complained. "Carter's a Colonel in the US Air Force. You don't get much more military than that without a buzzcut and a Marine hooyah."

"Colonel Carter was the only other candidate with sufficient scientific knowledge and experience, however. Some people felt that while her authority over the expedition would stem from the directorship, her rank would give her a better chance at retaining control of Colonel Sheppard."

"So you're going to appoint her again in my place?" Rodney asked. He felt too weary to fight it. There was no chance of getting Elizabeth back this time, though. He felt he would have to.

"That isn't within my purview at this time." Woolsey hesitated. "And I won't recommend it."

Rodney waited for the unspoken 'but' or 'unless'.

"Unless I see Colonel Sheppard assuming control."

Checking out alibis for Teyla, Ronon, Vala and Teal'c took the next hour, but afterward, John paired each of them with an officer, setting them to verifying that everyone on-duty during the relevant period had been present during their entire shift. That would at least shrink the suspect pool.

Woolsey questioned him about that when John found him, half intent on finding out what he'd wanted with Rodney earlier.

"Aliens?"

John smiled at him. "If Skorpion is real and came out of NID, then the only people who cannot possibly be the mole are the 'aliens'."

Woolsey looked a little surprised, then nodded. "You make a point, Colonel Sheppard."

"So, you want to go talk to Ronon and Lt. Kalatos?"

"You weren't joking about suspecting everyone?"

"Mr. Woolsey, you're in a position to be very useful to the Trust," John said. "More useful than someone on Atlantis, frankly."

"A compliment I could have gone without, I think," Woolsey said, dry as dust. He opened his briefcase and handed John a disc. "This is everything on Skorpion. A copy was given to Dr. Weir already…"

"It's probably on her laptop. I'll get this to McKay." He used his radio. "Ronon? Mr. Woolsey is ready to be interviewed."

"We're ready, Sheppard."

He glimpsed Ronon and Virginie Kalatos waiting outside Elizabeth's office. Once Woolsey had left, John waited a minute then headed for Elizabeth's quarters to secure her laptop. He wanted to go over what the NID had on Skorpion before handing the disc over to Rodney.

Ko, the head nurse, started the recorder and the video camera. Every part of this procedure would be documented non-stop. Lt. Crown stayed silent and out of the way.

Biro began by opening the bag and visually examining the body. Before the invasive portion of the procedure, there was evidence to be collected. "Alice," she whispered to herself, "do this right."

"Dr. Biro?" Ko asked.

"Nothing, Marie," she replied.

She recited the time and added, "Present are Dr. Alice Biro, prosector, Marie Ko, assistant, and Lt. Angela Crown, USAF/Atlantis Expedition."

A deep breath filled her lungs with air scented with plastic, laundry soap, antiseptic, rubber and the faint, always there odor that permeated the morgue. It was psychological more than a real smell, but sometimes she thought it was in her hair, soaked into her skin like old blood and formaldehyde. It wasn't technically necessary yet, but she had clear plastic glasses over her eyes in addition to the surgical mask, gown, and gloves. It gave her some comfort, a distance and a barrier between her and Death. "Let's weigh and measure her first, then we'll move on to the X-Rays."

She took samples of hair and fingernails, noting irritably that no one had bagged the hands while checking beneath the nails for anything. She swept the body with an ultraviolet light then Ko assisted as they carefully removed each piece of bloodied clothing and sealed it in a bag, holding them before the video camera and describing them. Alice scanned the body a second time, first the front and then after rolling it over, the back, using swabs to sample several stains on the skin, checking for signs of sexual activity, dictating as she took more samples and handed them off to Ko. She recorded a single distinguishing mark, a tiny tattoo of a peace symbol on the inside of the left thigh, just below the juncture of groin and leg. Ko snapped pictures of it for comparison with the medical records already on file. Both of them said nothing unnecessary, unpleasantly aware of the invasive nature of what they were doing, no matter how necessary.

"This is the body of a Caucasian female age thirty-nine," Alice dictated as they worked. "Hair brown, measuring nine inches in length. Irises green." She continued with the height and then the body's weight, after subtracting the gurney's weight from the measurement given by the morgue scale. "The teeth are natural with occlusal amalgam fillings in teeth 30 and 31. There is one tattoo, no missing body parts, and a single surgical scar commensurate with an appendectomy." The ventilation system hummed louder than anywhere else in Atlantis except the biolabs, laboring to push air through the filters, but the morgue still seemed eerily quiet. Every rustle of their gowns, the squeak of the gurney's wheels, the scuff of a shoe, even their breathing seemed magnified out of all proportion. "No other distinctive markings are visible."

Finished with the exterior examination, she and Ko shifted the body from the bag to the table. Rigor had progressed further than expected, but that could be accounted for by Weir's size and exposure to low temperatures. She made note of it anyway.

Alice made herself think of it as a body again and not Weir. That had been a mistake. Weir was someone. This was the subject of a forensic procedure. The hardest part of working in Atlantis for her hadn't been living with the constant danger or the isolation from Earth. She'd accepted that before coming through the wormhole.

The hardest part of her job on Atlantis was that she practiced it on the bodies of people she had known. More than one night had seen her pillow wet with tears she couldn't afford during the day, something she'd never confided to anyone, not even Carson. He would have tried to relieve her of the job, but it was hers and she knew no one else could do it as well. She hadn't been chosen for the expedition for her mordant sense of humor after all.

With the body block in place to raise the torso, Alice stopped once more and centered herself. If there had been signs of strangulation, she would have begun her incision with the neck. She decided to use a standard Y-incision to open the torso down to the pubic bone and quietly described her actions aloud as she worked, retracting the skin and then the superficial muscles from the chest and abdomen, then the cartilage that secured the ribs before removing the sternum. She removed the heart and lungs, weighing and inspecting them, then moved on. Eventually even the spinal cord would be removed in this case in order to detail the damage the X-Rays had shown.

She prepared samples from the stomach and then the intestines to send to toxicology, genetics and biochem for testing.

"Quite the mess," she commented, half to herself, half to Ko, as she worked. She'd never autopsied a body that had achieved terminal velocity before impact and the extent of the damage amazed her even while another part of her wondered at the fact that any of the internal organs were still recognizable. She asked Ko, "Think anyone would ever jump if they saw this?"

Ko shook her head. "Why would Dr. Weir jump?"

Alice stopped in the midst of preparing another tissue specimen. Her plastic protective glasses were sliding down her nose, so she tossed her head to get them back in place without using her hands.

"Who says she did?"

Ko's eyes, the only part of her face visible, widened. "Oh."

"I believe that's why there are two marines guarding the door into the morgue, Marie, as well as Lt. Crown here."

Crown coughed.

"No offense, Angela," Alica added.

"None taken."

"There's been no alarm, no one's said anything about intruders in the city. The Wraith – "

"I think we'd have already noticed if a Wraith had fed on her."

"The Genii – "

"That'd be nice," Biro said. Crown coughed again and she murmured, "Nicer than it being a member of the Expedition." She finished with the tissue sample.

Ko said nothing more.

"I'm going to open up her skull next. Help me move the body block into place to immobilize her head."

Alice began humming as she worked, beginning the incision through the scalp at the back of the skull. Old song lyrics ran through her head as she detached the scalp from the bone. She'd had a professor who always played Oingo Boingo in the autopsy room. Back then she'd found the way the scalp lifted away to fold over the face creepy. The professor too, but she'd come to appreciate anything that let her detach herself and simply work. Besides, every body was fascinating, the wreckage of an incredibly complex edifice, history etched into flesh and bone. "If you peel away the skin is there anybody there?" she hummed to herself. She'd long since come to her own conclusion; that no, without life, whatever made a person was gone from the body. She still wished she didn't have to know her subjects before they showed up on her table.

She picked up the Stryker saw. She'd got over finding dead bodies creepy, overcome by the fascination, but still found the electric buzz and the spray of bone and blood that came from cutting the skull open triggered a little shudder. The vibration as the blade bit into the bone worked its way up her arms and neck and down her spine and left her wanting to shake herself like a wet dog.

This time it was worse, the bone already cracked and shattered, shifting under the saw, threatening to cave away and sink into the brain beneath. She noted the excessive amount of blood present as signs of hemorrhage and worked as carefully as she ever had, compensating whenever called for. Eventually she managed to remove the brain. It went into jar of formalin for preservation.

When she'd gleaned everything from Elizabeth Weir's body that she could, Alice tenderly began restoring it as much as possible. She didn't know if it would go back to Earth for burial or not. While the nanites that had once infected her, then later saved her and eventually been used to rebuild her body when she'd been rescued from the Asurans had been broken down and flushed from her system, the IOA still might not want to take an unnecessary risk by allowing the body to return to Earth. Weir's personnel and medical files probably held some sort of last wishes and instructions on the event of her death, probably entrusting exercising them to Colonel Sheppard or Dr. McKay.

Alice's own file authorized the CMO, whoever it was, to take whatever measures necessary with her remains on the event of her death. Handling the dead held its own dangers and she half-expected to die of some contagion one day. She'd asked to be cremated and her ashes flushed into space above whatever planet they were on, by preference.

When they finally drew a sheet over Weir's face, Alice thought that she'd rather end the victim of some new disease than falling. The autopsy had proved the fall had killed Weir, but it couldn't tell why she'd fallen, not unless one of the tests came back with a revealing result.

"Do you really think someone here killed her?" Ko asked as they were cleaning up. Crown had already gone.

Alice paused as she stripped off her gown before getting rid of it and her gloves. "I don't think she was convinced she could fly," she said finally.

"But…one of us?"

Alice shook her head at the thought, but she did think that and she guessed the Colonel and McKay did as well. They were smart men under no delusions about human nature.

With that thought, Alice headed for the genetics lab. She had two specimens that had tested positive with acid phosphatase that she intended to see processed herself, besides recovering further samples from Weir's clothes. She'd begin with the PSA for P30 to confirm (and thank God they didn't have to actually use rabbits on Atlantis) and then use the Thermal Cycler to start the PCR. She'd use the Ancient equipment that didn't require the gene for more than initialization too, but it seemed important to run all the tests that would be done on Earth. Then whatever they found could be used in a court on Earth, if necessary.

Atlantis' citywide com system activated while she worked, Rodney McKay's clipped voice announcing, "Attention all expedition personnel. This is Rodney McKay. I have the unfortunate duty to inform you that Dr. Weir is dead. An investigation is ongoing. All gate travel, missions, and access to the jumpers are suspended. Please remain calm, continue your work and cooperate with the investigators if they should need to question you. Colonel Sheppard and I will release further details as is appropriate."

Mark Gilmor began composing the coded report he would transmit to Earth on the first opportunity. No one had anticipated this when he was dispatched. He shivered. His activities should have easily gone unnoticed, but now he had to consider the distinct possibility they wouldn't. No one here was stupid and now they would be looking. He attached two files he'd gleaned from Weir's secured safe. Ironic that he'd managed to get at the physical files but hadn't been able to get past McKay's encryptions on her computer. He'd been lucky not to set off any alarms.

The USB stick with the complete autopsy report disappeared completely when John closed his hand around it. He wanted to make everything on it disappear, too. While he was wishing for the impossible, he wanted to turn back time a week and put the shield up on the stargate. Never let O'Neill and Woolsey through the gate or any of the new personnel. Screw the supplies too. He trade them all for Elizabeth, alive, sitting behind the desk he was half-sitting on, while Rodney sat where she should have been.

Keller and Biro were seated across from them. Keller betrayed in a dozen tiny ways a nervousness he hadn't seen in her since she took over as CMO. Biro just looked tired. Her hair was damp from a shower.

"What am I going read in this?" John asked, holding up the USB stick.

"Time of death, cause of death, various histological reports, toxicology, biochem and preliminary DNA results," Biro said.

"Give it to me in layman's terms, please." He handed the stick to Rodney.

Biro bobbed her head. "The fall killed her. Fractured skull, broken neck, broken spine, massive internal injuries, fractures in her other limbs… As to how she fell: I didn't find any trace evidence under her fingernails or on her clothes, but I did find some on her body."

John straightened. Something hot and sick turned over in his stomach and then washed out to his skin. Christ. What had Biro found?

Rodney looked up from playing with USB stick. "What kind of evidence?"

Biro glanced at Keller, who looked away and bit her lip. Biro pressed her lips together, then faced Rodney and John. "An acid phosphatase test revealed a positive result for seminal fluid, on her clothing and on her body. I used a PCR to generate enough DNA to analyze and have started Y-STRs instead of RFLP, because it's faster. They're being repeated because it appears the samples weren't from the same man."

The blank shock on Rodney's face would be hilarious in other circumstances. As it is, John looked away. It gave him a moment to compose his own features and fight down the sick feeling. He heard Rodney's teeth click as his mouth finally shut and then, "Was she raped?"

Biro shook her head. "That isn't something any pathologist can tell absolutely. I can tell you that there was no anal penetration, no vaginal tearing, no swelling, abrasions or contusions of the sort associated with rough sex, and no indication that she had been restrained." She held up her index finger and went on, "Nonconsensual sex doesn't necessarily leave physical evidence, however, and consensual B&D can leave marks that look damning. Neither automatically mean rape. Whoever it was used a condom, the vaginal swabs came back negative."

"You said two," John said. His voice sounded clipped and angry enough that both Keller and Biro flinched. His mind was racing through the possibilities. How many people had Elizabeth been sleeping with? He made himself physically relax, but couldn't release the tension thrumming inside. Precarious didn't even cover his position right now. Every move he made, he knew O'Neill would be watching. He ran his palm over his face and faked an embarrassed smile for the two women. "Sorry. This is…"

Keller nodded swiftly.

Biro gave him a more skeptical look but answered. "Toxicology tests revealed no drugs. Currently, Genetics is working on the seminal fluids."

Rodney looked pained by her little lecture. "This is pertinent?"

"My autopsy showed that Dr. Weir had had intercourse probably within an hour of her death and earlier in the day, up to ten hours earlier. Given the degradation of the second sample, probably at least ten hours earlier."

"I really, really never thought I would be asking this, because Elizabeth's sex life is so, so much not my business – not that I'd been aware that she had one or had one here, because I knew she'd had one before, I mean, that she'd been involved with someone back on Earth and I'd just assumed… Crap." John watched him stop and draw in a breath, wince and ask, "How do you know the samples are from, uh, two different…guys. Men. People. Well, actually, it would just be men, wouldn't it?"

"DNA analysis," Keller said.

"Well, then you should know who the, uh, samples came from."

John looked at Keller, who shook her head, ponytail swishing over one shoulder. "Not that easy. While we have DNA samples on everyone in the Expedition, we don't have any for the new people, which means taking samples and running PCRs and STRs on all of the men, and – "

"– The DNA database is on non-networked server and only accessible with the CMO's code and a command code," Rodney finished. "Of course. I helped set it up myself to keep the data from being altered in the event we needed to run a comparison."

"A comparison?" John echoed, though he knew very well what Rodney meant.

"To make sure someone was who they said they were. Not a clone or an alien, you know?"

Biro frowned before saying, "We need to run a complete DNA analysis of Dr. Weir as well. I'll need the comparison samples to do that."

"I'll need you to unlock the database for me," Keller said. "Then I'll take care of that. It's only a formality."

"Well, there's one problem," Rodney said.

"What that?"

"You haven't been cleared."

Keller opened her mouth, then snapped it closed and glared at Rodney. "Are you accusing me?"

"No, but you're still a suspect. Until you aren't, we can't trust you not to alter something."

"I can't believe your nerve – "

"It's just a formality, Doctor, like you said about testing Eliza – Dr. Weir's DNA," John interrupted. Keller was small, but so was Teyla, and he didn't doubt she could do some damage if she came across the desk and tried to strangle Rodney. "If you'd check in with Teal'c and Lieutenant Bates, tell them where you were last night so we can cross you off the list…"

Keller transferred her glare to him.

"Maybe you could give your CMO code to someone who is clear," John suggested. He nodded to Biro. "Like Dr. Biro here. Rodney could enter his code and she could do the w

Judas Doesn't Answer

by Auburn