Rodney was crinkling a powerbar wrapper in his palm. Elizabeth was pacing and Rodney was crinkling. The rest of the world was the hushed silence of bated breaths and the small clicks as Grodin typed something out on the keyboard. He was probably playing solitaire; it wasn't as though there was anything they could do.

The Gate looked menacing before them. It was the future, its potency felt only when you stared through the perfect circle, waiting for it to wink open like an eye. The rest of the room fell in shadows, even those submissive before it.

The future ... the elegant lines of the past woven throughout this ancient city ... it hung in the moment, and Rodney crinkling a powerbar wrapper - several, actually, considering how much he'd eaten since Beckett had made his announcement concerning Major Sheppard's health, or lack thereof.

Elizabeth felt her shoulders tense as Rodney reached into his pocket to grab another. "Do you think you could do that a little less noisily, Rodney?" She was trying to be diplomatic.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Is my chronic hypoglycemia annoying you, because I could always ask it to stop. I mean, it's not like it's involuntary, is it?" he snapped.

Elizabeth bit her tongue. It's not as though he can help it, she reminded herself He just doesn't know how to properly express his concern for his teammates. Yes, she had hesitated when John had asked her to put Rodney on his team. But John had this way about him that quelled even her worst fears. He just smirked and said that you could train the military into any man, but you couldn't make people smarter.

Then John had said something about not exactly being military material himself. Except that wasn't true, despite the fact John liked to play it fast and loose with the regulations, which was fine by her. There was a theory in public policy about institutions and their capability for change. In fact, the economies that did the best tended to be the ones that allowed for the most freedom, the ones that made start-up companies and small businesses most viable. But the regulations weren't all there was to it. Despite all of the feminist theoreticians who spoke of a phallocentric system of military dominance -the ones who Elizabeth had one believed in her more radical college days- what the military was, at least the one John Sheppard seemed to believe in, was about service. And what was both the greatest triumph and the greatest danger of a powerful ideal, but the fact that there were those that were willing to live and die for it?

She sighed and put on her diplomats' mask - the one she had to employ rather often around Rodney. It wasn't that he was a bad person. She admired him more than she could ever let him know -his ego was big enough already- but he was ... Well, he's annoying. "I'm sorry, Rodney. We're all a little tense."

He gave a gloomy little chuckle, more like a squeak. "Yeah, a little." And then he turned to her, his eyes betraying the concerned and very human man beneath the prickly exterior. He suddenly looked so small. "I should be out there."

She turned away, gathering strength for her words. "With that arm? You'd probably get the major into more trouble than he manages to find on his own." If she had thought McKay could have gone on the mission, she would have ordered him. Elizabeth liked to keep up the image that all of this was voluntary - that this truly was a mission of exploration and scientific studies, but the second she'd pitched it to General O'Neill as a search for weapons and allies against the Goa'uld, she betrayed that ideal, as naïve as it was.

There was no separation of society, of science, and progress and military might. That much was obvious with the emergence of America as a world power. Elizabeth had traveled the world - seen so many places she could have been happy, spoken with so many people she could understand well, but it had always come down to a threat of force, or a more subtle disciplinary power. Legislation, covenants, trade agreements even, were nothing without the current of power that backed them up.

So, if it meant survival, or the achievement of their objective, she would order. If the ideal was powerful enough ... That's what she used to always say was a slippery slope, but here in Atlantis, in a world of so much wonder and power, there was no separation between those who controlled the technology and those who held the power and the freedom. Power was written into Major Sheppard's genetic code, as much as it was hardwired into Rodney's brain. And in them ... in all the majesty and wonder around them, was the military might that might rise up against the greatest enemy they had ever seen.

And to think ... there was a day when she thought that love conquered all.

Rodney had finished his latest powerbar and was crinkling the wrapper absently in his palm. She gave him a hard stare.

He spoke through a stuffed mouth. "Sorry. I ... I just hate not being able to do anything."

"Why don't you go down and talk to Carson? Maybe there's a technological cause for the major's illness. Waiting around here isn't doing you any good."

Before she could finish speaking, Rodney was out of his seat and half-way out the door. "Mmm, good idea." He'd gotten three steps down the hallway before he stopped and turned back. He stuffed the wrappers in his pocket as his eyes met hers, a slight tinge of concern in their blue depths, "Maybe you should ... er ..." he pointed ineffectually to the door. "Waiting isn't helping you either, Elizabeth."

Not more than a minute passed since Rodney made his way out the door before the gate lit up like, blinking awake to the dawn and hope of the dawn light streaming through the tall glass windows.

She heard him wheezing before she felt the solid weight tumble against her.

"Ah ... er ... sorry, Elizabeth. I ... I ... Carson's coming." Rodney gestured over his shoulder, still panting his face back from patches of red to the disturbing pallor seemed to so well match his ubiquitous frown.

Elizabeth leaned over Dr. Wu's shoulder, trying not to hover, but failing miserably. He must be used to it by now, considering how much time you spend doing it, she reminded herself. Even after all this time, she still couldn't quell the 'mothering' tendencies. What was it Selena had always said? Two decades ago and a galaxy away, and she still couldn't forget ..."Your problem, Lizzie, is that you've got too much of a bad case of pitter-patter for politics." Pitter-patter, the beat of an overswollen heart. You can't get too attached to them, Lizzie ... you can't protect the world, especially from itself.

Elizabeth would have said that the silence was deafening, except Rodney was shifting back and forth and playing with his hands so loudly that it couldn't technically be called silence anymore. Elizabeth held her breath, hoping beyond hope that she'd hear John come through with some sort of sarcastic rejoinder any second now. He didn't.

It was Sergeant Markhem that spoke instead - voice like clenched fists. "Atlantis Base, this is Jumper Three. Do you copy?"

Elizabeth flashed Rodney at tentative smile, which he returned transposed to a frown. Why did she even bother? "Sergeant, this is Dr. Weir, do you ..."

"Atlantis, we are inbound with a medical emergency ..."

"We know about Major Sheppard, Sergeant. Dr. Beckett is standing by with a medical team."

Then Lieutenant Ford's voice broke in. "You should probably make that several, Dr. Weir." Elizabeth watched as Dr. Wu automatically sent a page to all medical staff. "The major's unconscious; we have two men ... um, persons, down: wraith stunners; and a gunshot wound."

"A gunshot wound?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and Rodney shifted uncomfortably, looking grim.

"Yes, ma'am: Dr. Kavanagh. We're coming in now."

"Someone finally shot the bastard," Rodney mumbled. "About time."

"Rodney!" Privately, she agreed. There had been a time when she was close to it herself - but that wouldn't be very good leadership, whatever the urge. Besides, competing with him always kept Rodney busy. "The man might be ..." Her voice trailed off as the jumper popped effortlessly through the gate, coming to a stop seemingly against all odds of motion. All this time and it still set that small spark of wonder buried beneath the burdens of command alight.

In a second it was ascending through the roof and she was jogging up the stairs to the jumperbay, Rodney on her heels. He tore off the sling he'd kept around his arm the entire day and tossed it on the floor in order to keep up - Elizabeth was fast; she used to run the hurdles back in her days at Wellesley.

Elizabeth sprinted across the jumper bay, skidding to a stop behind the maze of medical personnel already assembled there. They'd had some missions go south, and she'd things done to people that she'd even imagined - not even reading General O'Neill's famously entertaining SGC reports or listening to those who bodily fought their way to the negotiating table tell tales of war zones where a hundred dollars of the denied relief fund could save a life, but she'd never seen a scene like this. Her mind skipped back to those old historical novels - hope and love and redemption found in trenches and field hospitals.

She watched almost dispassionately as gurneys containing Simpson and Bulter flew past her unblinking stare. She knew they would be all right. But John ... She stood on her tip-toes, using that height that used to have men falling over her - asking if she was a model, while she cursed the attention. She heard Rodney in the background, babbling apologies after having gotten in the way of one of the gurneys. As she felt Rodney's solid warmth before her, the sea of medical personnel seemed to part and she caught a glimpse of him.

Elizabeth had seen John Sheppard dead - his heart stopped as he lay pale and motionless on the jumperbay floor, but this was so much worse. Then, at least, John had looked at peace, his features so boyish and beatific that she almost heard her gran's voice in her head It would be a shame to wake him, dearie. But now, the peaceful dreamer was gone, the man without the burden of the world. All that was left was a face twisted almost unrecognizable in pain as he thrashed on the floor, thwarting the medical personnels' attempts to make him lie still long enough to insert an I.V.

She gasped. And then Beckett was yelling something. Two soldiers rushed past and pinned John to the floor. He screamed and tried to push them away, frantic as they pulled him up onto a gurney. As the gurney rushed past she caught some garbled words ... some moans. "The temple ... Metta. Vipassyana."

"What did he just say?" Rodney enquired from behind her.

"I don't know," Elizabeth sighed, searching her memory. The words sounded so familiar.

"Vipassyana and Metta. Wisdom and loving kindness, supposedly the two marks of enlightenment as taught by the Buddha." Elizabeth blinked, looking down at the petite and quiet Dr. Lin, covered in sweat and dust and blood, camouflaged in strips of it like a tiger. She thought it made him look like a prophet.

"Oh great, just what we need, some useless cushion-sitters. The candle this ... the flame that." She turned, startled by the vehemence of Rodney's words. She knew he didn't believe in religion. Like any -like most- good scientists, but this was harsh, even for him.

"You sound like you have experience?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Yes ... well, no, not personally. But I honestly don't understand how sitting around mediating on purposely esoteric and completely useless phrases is going to help anything. 'What is the sound of one hand clapping?' Well one hand can't fucking clap, so what difference does it make?"

Elizabeth took a step back. "I don't know, Rodney. But did we ever consider the possibility that Major Sheppard might be a Buddhist?"

It didn't say anything in his record, but John never struck her as the type to check any of those little boxes that could easily qualify him.

"John Sheppard? No ... he's too ... but ... well, maybe. I don't actually know that much about him." Rodney shrugged, but Elizabeth could see the regret in his eyes, the hurt. They'd served on the same team, joked, played, saved each others lives, but how much did they really know about each other?

Dr. Lin just stared at Rodney wide-eyed. Elizabeth remembered seeing in his file that though he was both an expert in Ancient language and East Asian Religion, he was also a practicing Buddhist, something which Colonel O'Neill had mistrusted. She hadn't even told Rodney.

"He did mention Oma Desala." Lin frowned.

Rodney turned away, exasperated. "What? Wait. Sheppard doesn't even ... well, he might have read the reports. But, I mean, Oma Desala ... that's the last thing we need. Beings that deign to meddle when they feel like it, or when they decide to bend the rules to fit them. But show them obvious suffering and a way to help stop it and they turn their backs. They sure do a hell of job of protecting their descendents. They could defeat the Wraith with a single thought. But they don't. They don't choose to. How can you excuse that?"

"Look, Rodney, now is not the time for a dissertation on your frustration with the Ancients." They'd had this discussion before and both Elizabeth and John tended to side with Rodney. How could you do nothing when you had to power to stop so much suffering? Even though there was this voice at the back of her mind that kept telling her that there were always reasons ... never absolute rights. It sounded so much like Selena, even now. "Did the major say anything else, Doctor?"

"He said that he didn't want to remember. I think ... I think he might have been talking about Earth." Elizabeth turned again to find Lieutenant Annie Parker staring at her through haunted eyes, bright blue and so lost in the pale lines of her features, etched in soot as her hair fell down around her shoulders. Elizabeth had always seen in Annie Parker, herself if things had been different. If she hadn't been born to privilege, New York suburbia, a family where you spoke politics or French at the dinner table or you didn't speak ... if things had turned out differently maybe she would have done the same. There were so many paths to follow ... so many ways you could act to try to bring justice to a world like this one. There was one thing Elizabeth didn't doubt, however. All paths lead to Atlantis ... she couldn't imagine herself anywhere else. This was right.

"So we're supposed to believe that this has nothing to do with Atlantis at all? That Sheppard just knows about Oma Desala on his own? She's not even in the Buddhist cannon. Please." Rodney rolled his eyes.

But was it that difficult to believe? Destiny ... science. With beings like the Ancients with the power of gods if not the actual god part ... wasn't it possible that this had all begun long before even they knew about it? A part of her still couldn't shake the belief - didn't want to shake it. She remembered a conversation of long ago.

'How can you still believe in a god? You're a biology major, Selena. Or have you forgotten?'

'Whoever said science and religion had to be separate was an idiot.'

'I believe that would be the Pope, during the Enlightenment ... the inquisition that wanted to execute Galileo.'

'Yep, definitely an idiot. I swear, Lizzie, the more I study biology, the easier it is to believe in a God.'

'How so?'

'Because, why else would we exist?'

'Evolution?'

'Exactly.'

'Exactly, what?'

'Evolution is why we exist - so we can become more. Think about it. If you were an omniscient, omnipresent being, would you use your power to bend things to your will? Would you make a dancing monkey and pull on marionette strings all day? Boooring.'

'You're saying God is bored?'

'If you could know everything, make anything, be anything and know the outcome even before you did it, why do anything? I mean, would you rather write a book or read one?'

'Well, if I wrote I book, I could probably get the word out to more people. Some of the greatest political works have come in the form of ...'

'Can you go five seconds without thinking of politics?'

'No, I can't.'

'I'm serious, Lizzie, stop playing. Let's say no one's ever gonna read this book. You're not going to even remember it the second you're done writing. Which would you enjoy more?'

'Reading, I suppose.'

'Point.'

'No point! Help me out, Selena, I'm not seeing the connection.'

'Give humans free will; don't intervene. Not because of sin or punishment or whatever mumbo jumbo the Pope's cooked up this time, but because of imagination, experience, finding new and wonderful things that can't be found within the confines of a mind without experience.'

'But how can you believe in a God with so much suffering in the world?'

'Life is suffering, Lizzie. We are the sum of our experiences, or the sum of experiences past in the case of our genome. If some individuals in the past did not suffer and die and others survive, we would not be what we are today. We would not be the complex organisms that exist, but simply bundles of useless organic matter. Even if we somehow find world peace, however unlikely that may be. Even if we travel to foreign stars ... we cannot escape suffering.'

'But how can you look at all the suffering in this world and not want it to end?'

'Because I know that in the end ... in the end, Lizzie, we can't change the world. Suffering will always exist. Even in a palace where every whim is fulfilled we will find ways to suffer. All we can ever hope to do is our best. It is enough. It has to be.'