Day 45, Morning, Conference Room, Attn: Senior Staff [f]
He'd slipped into a daze in the woman's arms, not truly sleeping, not really crying, his thoughts circling, circling around what-ifs and I-should-haves, spiralling down till there was nothing but exhausted silence and a hard knot of guilt inside him.
"Major Shepp... gate teams have returned... report to the conference room... debriefing?" Elizabeth's voice sounded in his ear, tinny and full of static.
"I'll be there," he answered, almost managing to sound like himself, receiving no response.
A few more people who had survived. A handful of military and scientists.
He had a job to do. He sat up, avoiding the Athosian's eyes, not wanting to see the pity there. He couldn't do what needed done if he saw it now. He tried to wipe the worst of the dust off his pants, only to open the scabbing on his raw hands and smear blood across them.
It was a long walk back to an area with a working transporter. By the sound of it, the debriefing was starting immediately. He clicked his radio. "Sheppard to Weir. Doctor Weir?"
There was no reply.
"Sheppard to Control," he tried.
Still nothing. He sighed. There was no help for it. He'd have to go as he was.
He double-timed it back to the central area, feeling old and out of breath by the time he made it there. He stopped outside the doors and schooled his features, running a hand through his hair. He could pull this off. He pasted on a smile and stepped through the door, all eyes turning toward him. There were raised eyebrows from those who'd been there, looks of shock from those who'd been off-world.
"Elizabeth," he greeted, striding toward his usual seat with more confidence than he would ever feel again. "Good to see everyone safely home."
Except, of course, that everyone wasn't home. And no one was safe.
"Major Shepp... gate teams have returned... report to the conference room... debriefing?" Elizabeth's voice sounded in his ear, tinny and full of static.
"I'll be there," he answered, almost managing to sound like himself, receiving no response.
A few more people who had survived. A handful of military and scientists.
He had a job to do. He sat up, avoiding the Athosian's eyes, not wanting to see the pity there. He couldn't do what needed done if he saw it now. He tried to wipe the worst of the dust off his pants, only to open the scabbing on his raw hands and smear blood across them.
It was a long walk back to an area with a working transporter. By the sound of it, the debriefing was starting immediately. He clicked his radio. "Sheppard to Weir. Doctor Weir?"
There was no reply.
"Sheppard to Control," he tried.
Still nothing. He sighed. There was no help for it. He'd have to go as he was.
He double-timed it back to the central area, feeling old and out of breath by the time he made it there. He stopped outside the doors and schooled his features, running a hand through his hair. He could pull this off. He pasted on a smile and stepped through the door, all eyes turning toward him. There were raised eyebrows from those who'd been there, looks of shock from those who'd been off-world.
"Elizabeth," he greeted, striding toward his usual seat with more confidence than he would ever feel again. "Good to see everyone safely home."
Except, of course, that everyone wasn't home. And no one was safe.