SGA FIC: Reflections in Water - Chapter Five - The Cold Colonel
Title: Reflections in Water
Author: stella_pegasi
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Jennifer Keller, others, original characters.
Spoilers: It would be easier to tell you what wasn’t mentioned…suffice to say that if you have watched all of the episodes that either deal with Elizabeth Weir or discuss Weir then it most likely included as is just about everything else.
Warnings: Minor bad language, lots of angst, there is whump, mention of possible self-injury.
Het/Slash/Gen: Gen
Word count:
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I would have treated them better.
Summary: Upon the anniversary of a tragic loss, Sheppard’s in pain and his team is distraught at not being able to help him.
REFLECTIONS IN WATER
REFLECTIONS IN WATER
By stella_pegasi
CHAPTER FIVE THE COLD COLONEL
Finally, he could escape. The conference room was oppressive and the walls were closing in on him. He heard the others talking but he couldn’t remember anything being discussed in the room. It took him a few seconds to realize that Teyla was telling him that the meeting was over and something about tomorrow morning. He remembered looking at her, her face full of concern, but he just wanted to leave.
Sheppard left them as quickly as he could, racing down the gate room stairs and to the transporter. He heard someone call his name but he entered the transporter without looking around. The corridor leading to his quarters was deserted and he slipped through the door to his private sanctum, leaning against the inside of the door trying to get his breath.
He could feel the hum of Atlantis vibrating through his body and he felt as though every nerve ending was on fire. It was as if Atlantis blamed him as well and was trying to make him suffer. He pulled away from the door as if he was fighting something sticky holding him there and he stumbled across the room to the small refrigerator under a counter and grabbed a beer. The buzz he got from the masut had worn off and he was wanted the numbness that accompanied a buzz.
Sitting the beer can on the table next to his bed; he took off his boots and black BDU shirt and stretched out as best he could on the short Atlantian bed. His head was spinning out of control, not from the alcohol but from the pain. He sat up and took a huge swig from his beer and then flopped back down.
He didn’t want to think, that’s why he loved the masut; that stuff kicked a powerful punch. He started muttering, “You should have picked up a couple of bottles of that stuff before you gated back. Then you wouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“So, Sheppard, you truly are a piece of work. Some brave guy you are; can’t even do a good job of getting drunk to keep from feeling sorry for yourself.”
He allowed his mind to wander to his childhood, remembering the last time he saw his mother, the beautiful Giselle Sheppard. It was summer and he was eight years old; his bother Dave was older and spent a lot of time with their father so most of that summer he had his mother all to himself. That morning his mother had been helping him make a kite they could fly when they visited the shore on the weekends. They were in the sun room with all the kite materials lying on the floor; they had laughed and she had explained to him why kites were shaped they way they were and why they flew. He was fascinated with airplanes and she knew even then, he wanted to fly. His mother had just cut some string when she got a funny look on her face, grabbed his arm and fell over.
He had run to the kitchen to get Miss Gilly, the cook and his mother’s friend. She was pouring a cup of coffee for Harold, the stable manager when he ran in yelling that something was wrong with his mom. Miss Gilly made him stay with Harold while she went to check on his mother, when she returned he remembered how pale Miss Gilly was as she shook her head back and forth at Harold. He grabbed the phone to make a call and Miss Gilly had hugged him as if she didn’t want to let go. He kept asking her if his mom was ok and she wouldn’t answer but he knew.
He never saw his mother again; she had died instantly from a massive brain aneurysm. Miss Gilly had taken him to his room and had stayed with him while the police and ambulance came. He had seen his father’s big car pull up but his father never came to comfort him. He wanted to see her before they took her away but Miss Gilly wouldn’t allow him to go downstairs. He never got to say goodbye to her. The next day his mother’s sister had come from New Orleans and she stayed with him most of the time. He kept asking for his dad but his aunt just kept telling him to be patient, his father would come to him but he never did.
Patrick Sheppard was grief stricken and had ordered that his mother’s casket was to be closed. The fact was Patrick couldn’t bear to look at the body of his wife or at his youngest son. John didn’t understand why his father turned from him; that with his dark hair and green eyes, he looked exactly like his mother and the resemblance caused his father too much pain. Standing in the hot sun at the cemetery after the funeral, he remembered that his aunt and Miss Gilly had stayed by his side. Dave never left their father’s side and his father never looked at him during the entire service; from that moment on, John Sheppard was alone.
The last time he saw his father was a brief visit shortly after his divorce from Nancy. He father was angry; he had introduced them and had finally thought that John would get over his juvenile fascination with flying, leave the Air Force, and come to work in the family’s business. Now, in his father’s eyes, he was the only reason that the marriage failed.
Patrick Sheppard never considered the fact that Nancy and not his son, could have been at fault. He told Nancy he would be called away on missions at a moment’s notice and that he couldn’t tell her what he was doing or where he going or how long he would be gone. She married him anyway but even knowing, she had begun to resent his absences and the silence. She left him because she couldn’t cope with the chasm that developed between them but his father blamed him as he always did.
Maybe he was to blame; what kind of fool would walk away from a smart, beautiful woman like Nancy? Oh yeah, he thought, she had walked away from him but he knew the truth, he’d pushed her away. He had come to realize that he hadn’t loved her the way he should have or he would have been more sensitive to what she needed; maybe he just had forgotten how to share himself with anyone.
The last conversation he had with his father was heated to say the least. His father called him a loser, hiding behind the Air Force so he didn’t have to do any real work and not even succeeding at that. Continuing, his father chided him regarding the Article 15 on his record and his station assignment at McMurdo, the graveyard for disgraced pilots. How his father knew about his situation, he had never found out. His old man was well connected and probably could just pick up the phone and find out anything he needed or wanted to know.
He had yelled back at his father, about how he was never there for him as he grew up, that he blamed his own son for his mother’s death, that all he cared about was money and image. He had looked at his father with contempt telling him, ‘I am not that shallow, dad, but you are.’ His father had told him how disappointed he was in him and to leave, he and Dave didn’t need him. Sheppard walked away leaving his father standing in the living room and he never looked back. In less than two years, he was on Atlantis never expecting to be back on Earth again.
But he did return and the next time he was in that house was when he returned to Maryland for his father’s funeral. He had wanted to believe Dave when he told him that his father regretted what had been said between them but he couldn’t. Even though his relationship with his brother had improved, he would never believe that his father would forgive him. Too many horrible things had been said by both of them for him to ever believe his father would harbor regrets. He wasn’t certain he could ever regret what had been said.
Damn, screwing up one galaxy wasn’t enough; he had to come to Pegasus and screw this one up as well. He sat up to take another long drink from his beer. He began to talk out loud, “What did you do on your first 24 hours on Atlantis, kill your commanding officer and wake up a deadly race of creatures that proceeded to kill thousands and thousands of people.”
Thousands and thousands of people dead, “Way to make new friends, John,” he muttered. His head was pounding from the hangover that was beginning to kick his butt. He stood up intending to go to the bathroom but stumbled over one of his boots, which he kicked out of the way. The release of kicking something felt so good that he kicked the other boot and then the chair, then he threw a book, then the small lamp that sat on the small table by his bed. With each item he threw, with each chair he pushed over, with each scream, his rage seemed to increase and he couldn’t stop.
When he turned his golf clubs over the thin rods spilled across the floor; grabbing one, he proceeded to rain blow after blow on everything within his reach. He spared nothing; he struck the column that stood in the center of his quarters, the dresser, his bed, the window which didn’t break but brought the drapes down, tangled around the club. He threw the club as hard as he could across the room and sank to the floor behind the bed, curling himself into ball, lying on his side. It was then that the tears replaced the rage.
He wasn’t certain how long he lay on the floor with his body coiled like a spring. Finally spent from the tears, he pulled himself up and collapsed on the bed. He felt numb and maybe that was why he could bring the memories that hurt the most to his consciousness. Faces flashed through his mind so quickly that he was having difficulty keeping up. They spun out of control until only one face was in filling his mind, Elizabeth’s.
Images of her running toward the chair in Antarctica with a stunned and then incredulous look on her face floated across his vision. He remembered how confused he had felt as all these people who he had never seen before rushed toward him. His first meeting with Rodney was with a Rodney who started giving him instructions to think this and think that, all the while making it very clear he was annoyed that a dumb jet jockey was able to do things he couldn’t do. They had kept him there for hours, asking him to call up one image after another. It was during a rare break that Elizabeth came to talk to him about joining the Atlantis expedition.
He had found his way to the canteen, desperate for a cup of coffee to ease his headache, and had just sat down at a table when she sat down across from him. She told him about the stargate, the SGC, Atlantis, and she asked him to join the expedition. He had remained in the canteen for more than hour after she left overwhelmed by the things she had told him. He may have flipped a coin a few times but in the end, he had decided to go, there was nothing left for him on Earth but chopper flights above a cold landscape. That decision had changed his life.
He thought he was done with the tears but he welled up again as he thought of all the things that had happened since they first set foot on Atlantis. He knew there would be danger, which he was prepared for but he never thought that he would be on Atlantis without Elizabeth.
Teyla had asked him on the journey from Earth back to the Pegasus galaxy if he had loved Elizabeth. He had asked himself that same question many times before Elizabeth died and after she was gone but he knew that if he had to ask whether he loved her or not, then he had his answer. He loved Elizabeth but as a friend and a mentor. She believed in him, trusted him when maybe she shouldn’t have, gave him the opportunity to save his career, and defended him against those who thought he would never become a good officer. She had given him his life back but he had taken hers.
Since Teyla had confronted him, he had thought about her words; they had floated over and over in his head. Elizabeth made the call to drop the shields to give him more power to launch Atlantis; it wasn’t his fault that they didn’t have enough power. The fact that the laser beam from the Replicator bored through the asteroid quicker than they had hoped was something else he couldn’t help, so why couldn’t he make himself admit that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t his fault. He was finding it difficult to challenged Teyla’s logic but he was pretty sure it was the alcohol that was keeping him from coming up with reasons he should be feeling guilty. Was Teyla right? The one thing he couldn’t control was where Elizabeth was standing when the beam struck the tower; she was right, that piece he couldn’t control.
“Damn it, Sheppard, you should have protected her, you should have been stronger, you should have been able to get Atlantis out of the water if you only knew how to control that damn gene better.” Curling up on his side, he began to pound his pillow with his fist; tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He felt helpless, not sure what he should do or what he should think or who to turn to for help. He’d never turned to anyone for help; never thought anyone would care.
Slowly he rolled over on his back; he stretched his legs and stared up at the ceiling. Teyla. He could talk to her but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do anymore. Things weren’t the same now that she was with Kanaan. He was having difficulty adjusting to the change in their relationship. When she had asked him if he had been in love with Elizabeth, he had wondered what her reaction would have been if he had told her that he was never certain if he was in love with Elizabeth because he was never certain that he wasn’t in love with her.
Ronon had once alluded to the possibility of he and Teyla being together and he had considered it for a minute, then dismissed it. Later that same night, alone in the dark trying to deal with Carson’s death, he had wondered if maybe he needed Teyla after all. But he never acted on his feelings for Teyla or Elizabeth and in the end, the choices were taken away from him; Elizabeth was gone and Teyla had chosen Kanaan. He was alone, as he had been after his mother died.
He raised his arm and covered his eyes, “You have certainly made another mess of things haven’t you. Your team gets in a fight today and you did nothing. What the hell is wrong with you?” His head was pounding and he wanted to take a shower or get drunker, he couldn’t decide.
An apology was due to his teammates for his behavior on Kieren; he had made a total ass of himself, sitting at the table drinking masut while Ronon, Teyla and Rodney fought that monster of a man. Then he had simply walked out, waiting at the gate for them. Some leader he turned out to be, leaving his team because he couldn’t deal with his feelings. How could he face them after what he had done, having left them to deal with the problem without him? He laughed at that thought; it wasn’t like they would blame him for anything he did right now. No, his teammates would be concerned, sympathetic, understanding, by his side no matter what idiotic behavior he exhibited.
Teyla would be calming, soothing, telling him that he shouldn’t blame himself for Elizabeth’s death. She had said all that to him many, many times before and knowing Teyla’s patience level, she would continue to say the exact same thing to him over and over. She had been an anchor for his team, a voice of reason when things turned dire, never afraid to challenge him when she thought he was wrong. He had learned to listen to her instincts and had become a better leader by realizing that force was not always the right course to take.
He trusted her with his life and felt she was the only person that he could let his guard down around to whatever extent he ever could open up with anyone. He supposed that was why he had such conflicting feelings about her since they met. She was beautiful, with a smile that lit up the universe; her loyalty, passion for life even with the treat of the Wraith weighing on her people, her belief in him had made her a part of his soul. Yet he could never bring himself to take the next step and find out if he cared for her more than he would allow himself to believe. When she was gone, he feared for her and her baby and would have sacrificed his life to bring her home. But he brought her home to Kanaan and that was how it was to be.
He had walked out on Rodney today. He had never deserted Rodney before and still couldn’t fathom why he behaved that way. He had developed ‘friendships’ before but never one with a more unlikely character than Dr. Rodney McKay. High strung, high maintenance, unsure of himself yet arrogant to a fault, mischievous, and deadly serious, quite a line-up of traits to be possessed by one man. Yet, there was more to McKay, he was as loyal as Teyla, maybe not as fearless as Ronon but certainly as brave when he needed to be. His brilliance had saved their hides more times than he could count; maybe more times than he would admit. He relished in needling the scientist to the point that Rodney would start calling him a flyboy and go off muttering to himself. He knew Rodney enjoyed their verbal sparring as much as he did. He had never had a better friend.
Sheppard sighed as he thought about the big Satendan that had become such a part of his life. From the beginning, he had never doubted that Ronon Dex was going to be his friend. He was intrigued by the life the Wraith had forced him to endure as a runner, a prey for their sport. How had this man who had lost everything when the Wraith decimated Sateda survive such an ordeal? Yet he did; he was the bravest man that Sheppard had ever met and his devotion to Atlantis, through tested on a few occasions, had never waivered. He knew that Ronon had to have trusted him from their first encounter; the big guy had kidnapped Teyla and him but he had never been in fear of him. He had promised to have the tracking device removed from his back and bless Carson, scared as always but never letting him down, freed Ronon from his bizarre captivity.
He smiled as he remembered Elizabeth’s hesitation about allowing Ronon to stay on Atlantis but in the end, she had trusted his judgment. He couldn’t tell her the real reason that he felt such kinship with Ronon, although she may have understood, he just couldn’t verbalize it to anyone. Ronon and he shared a common trait; they were alone. Ronon lost his family, his loved ones to the Wraith and he had lost the same things but to his father’s desire to control his life. They both had no where to call home. The one thing that Ronon did that he hadn’t was Ronon endured his trials with determination and pride. Him? He had simply hid in the cockpit of whatever aircraft he was allowed to fly and had found a way to screw that up as well.
So why did these people feel such loyalty to him? He didn’t understand; he did what he had to do, what he thought was the right thing to do in his mind even if it didn’t always mesh with what others thought. Yet his team was unwavering in their support. He knew he didn’t deserve it but he appreciated it; treasured it.
As he rose upright intending on getting up for something to drink, water this time, he realized how dizzy he was. Holding his head in his hands, he sat on the edge of the bed and felt the memories of Elizabeth flood his mind again.
The pain that seized his heart was unbearable and he fought to dampen it, push it aside. He tried to concentrate on what Teyla had told him; that her death wasn’t his fault. Visions of her flooded his mind; seeing her on the monitor after surgery, Jennifer telling him how grave her condition was; the fear in Rodney’s eyes when he told him that he turned on the nanites; then seeing her sitting up, completely whole again. He knew the risk they were taking with the nanites but they had her back, only to lose her again on the Replicator planet. He knew that Rodney felt as if her loss was his mistake, he should have let her die naturally and never turned on the nanites.
Then she reappeared on their monitor, looking healthy but she was a human replication of the original and they lost her once more. Then her disembodied energy came to Atlantis and for a brief time, he felt a glimmer of hope that she could come back to them. But it wasn’t to be; none of those chances made a difference. Elizabeth was gone and life had to continue.
Was that what he was really doing? Was he putting his life on hold because he didn’t want to go on without Elizabeth? Or was he grieving for his lost chances with Elizabeth or Teyla or Nancy, maybe even his father or never seeing his mother to say goodbye. Was he hiding behind all these excuses to not face up to the fact that only one person could make a difference in his life and that was him? Maybe it was time to stop running away. Maybe he needed to talk to his team, to accept that they all felt guilty about losing her. Maybe it was time for him to move ahead and not let guilt the guilt of Elizabeth’s loss consume him.
He stood up, shakily, and made his way to the small refrigerator to get a bottle of water. Leaning against the counter, he drank the water down quickly and decided maybe he needed a shower.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, he shook his head and muttered, “You look like shit, Sheppard.” Opening the door to the large shower, he reached in and had barely turned the faucet on when another wave of dizziness overcame him and he lost his balance. He reached for a small ceramic shelf located inside the shower to steady himself but the momentum of his weight pulled the shelf off the wall.
He fell onto the shower floor, hitting his head and losing consciousness. A sharp edge of the broken shelf slid across his left arm leaving a long cut along the inside of his wrist. Mixed with the cold water streaming down the drain was a rivulet of red blood.
Author: stella_pegasi
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Jennifer Keller, others, original characters.
Spoilers: It would be easier to tell you what wasn’t mentioned…suffice to say that if you have watched all of the episodes that either deal with Elizabeth Weir or discuss Weir then it most likely included as is just about everything else.
Warnings: Minor bad language, lots of angst, there is whump, mention of possible self-injury.
Het/Slash/Gen: Gen
Word count:
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I would have treated them better.
Summary: Upon the anniversary of a tragic loss, Sheppard’s in pain and his team is distraught at not being able to help him.
REFLECTIONS IN WATER
REFLECTIONS IN WATER
By stella_pegasi
CHAPTER FIVE THE COLD COLONEL
Finally, he could escape. The conference room was oppressive and the walls were closing in on him. He heard the others talking but he couldn’t remember anything being discussed in the room. It took him a few seconds to realize that Teyla was telling him that the meeting was over and something about tomorrow morning. He remembered looking at her, her face full of concern, but he just wanted to leave.
Sheppard left them as quickly as he could, racing down the gate room stairs and to the transporter. He heard someone call his name but he entered the transporter without looking around. The corridor leading to his quarters was deserted and he slipped through the door to his private sanctum, leaning against the inside of the door trying to get his breath.
He could feel the hum of Atlantis vibrating through his body and he felt as though every nerve ending was on fire. It was as if Atlantis blamed him as well and was trying to make him suffer. He pulled away from the door as if he was fighting something sticky holding him there and he stumbled across the room to the small refrigerator under a counter and grabbed a beer. The buzz he got from the masut had worn off and he was wanted the numbness that accompanied a buzz.
Sitting the beer can on the table next to his bed; he took off his boots and black BDU shirt and stretched out as best he could on the short Atlantian bed. His head was spinning out of control, not from the alcohol but from the pain. He sat up and took a huge swig from his beer and then flopped back down.
He didn’t want to think, that’s why he loved the masut; that stuff kicked a powerful punch. He started muttering, “You should have picked up a couple of bottles of that stuff before you gated back. Then you wouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“So, Sheppard, you truly are a piece of work. Some brave guy you are; can’t even do a good job of getting drunk to keep from feeling sorry for yourself.”
He allowed his mind to wander to his childhood, remembering the last time he saw his mother, the beautiful Giselle Sheppard. It was summer and he was eight years old; his bother Dave was older and spent a lot of time with their father so most of that summer he had his mother all to himself. That morning his mother had been helping him make a kite they could fly when they visited the shore on the weekends. They were in the sun room with all the kite materials lying on the floor; they had laughed and she had explained to him why kites were shaped they way they were and why they flew. He was fascinated with airplanes and she knew even then, he wanted to fly. His mother had just cut some string when she got a funny look on her face, grabbed his arm and fell over.
He had run to the kitchen to get Miss Gilly, the cook and his mother’s friend. She was pouring a cup of coffee for Harold, the stable manager when he ran in yelling that something was wrong with his mom. Miss Gilly made him stay with Harold while she went to check on his mother, when she returned he remembered how pale Miss Gilly was as she shook her head back and forth at Harold. He grabbed the phone to make a call and Miss Gilly had hugged him as if she didn’t want to let go. He kept asking her if his mom was ok and she wouldn’t answer but he knew.
He never saw his mother again; she had died instantly from a massive brain aneurysm. Miss Gilly had taken him to his room and had stayed with him while the police and ambulance came. He had seen his father’s big car pull up but his father never came to comfort him. He wanted to see her before they took her away but Miss Gilly wouldn’t allow him to go downstairs. He never got to say goodbye to her. The next day his mother’s sister had come from New Orleans and she stayed with him most of the time. He kept asking for his dad but his aunt just kept telling him to be patient, his father would come to him but he never did.
Patrick Sheppard was grief stricken and had ordered that his mother’s casket was to be closed. The fact was Patrick couldn’t bear to look at the body of his wife or at his youngest son. John didn’t understand why his father turned from him; that with his dark hair and green eyes, he looked exactly like his mother and the resemblance caused his father too much pain. Standing in the hot sun at the cemetery after the funeral, he remembered that his aunt and Miss Gilly had stayed by his side. Dave never left their father’s side and his father never looked at him during the entire service; from that moment on, John Sheppard was alone.
The last time he saw his father was a brief visit shortly after his divorce from Nancy. He father was angry; he had introduced them and had finally thought that John would get over his juvenile fascination with flying, leave the Air Force, and come to work in the family’s business. Now, in his father’s eyes, he was the only reason that the marriage failed.
Patrick Sheppard never considered the fact that Nancy and not his son, could have been at fault. He told Nancy he would be called away on missions at a moment’s notice and that he couldn’t tell her what he was doing or where he going or how long he would be gone. She married him anyway but even knowing, she had begun to resent his absences and the silence. She left him because she couldn’t cope with the chasm that developed between them but his father blamed him as he always did.
Maybe he was to blame; what kind of fool would walk away from a smart, beautiful woman like Nancy? Oh yeah, he thought, she had walked away from him but he knew the truth, he’d pushed her away. He had come to realize that he hadn’t loved her the way he should have or he would have been more sensitive to what she needed; maybe he just had forgotten how to share himself with anyone.
The last conversation he had with his father was heated to say the least. His father called him a loser, hiding behind the Air Force so he didn’t have to do any real work and not even succeeding at that. Continuing, his father chided him regarding the Article 15 on his record and his station assignment at McMurdo, the graveyard for disgraced pilots. How his father knew about his situation, he had never found out. His old man was well connected and probably could just pick up the phone and find out anything he needed or wanted to know.
He had yelled back at his father, about how he was never there for him as he grew up, that he blamed his own son for his mother’s death, that all he cared about was money and image. He had looked at his father with contempt telling him, ‘I am not that shallow, dad, but you are.’ His father had told him how disappointed he was in him and to leave, he and Dave didn’t need him. Sheppard walked away leaving his father standing in the living room and he never looked back. In less than two years, he was on Atlantis never expecting to be back on Earth again.
But he did return and the next time he was in that house was when he returned to Maryland for his father’s funeral. He had wanted to believe Dave when he told him that his father regretted what had been said between them but he couldn’t. Even though his relationship with his brother had improved, he would never believe that his father would forgive him. Too many horrible things had been said by both of them for him to ever believe his father would harbor regrets. He wasn’t certain he could ever regret what had been said.
Damn, screwing up one galaxy wasn’t enough; he had to come to Pegasus and screw this one up as well. He sat up to take another long drink from his beer. He began to talk out loud, “What did you do on your first 24 hours on Atlantis, kill your commanding officer and wake up a deadly race of creatures that proceeded to kill thousands and thousands of people.”
Thousands and thousands of people dead, “Way to make new friends, John,” he muttered. His head was pounding from the hangover that was beginning to kick his butt. He stood up intending to go to the bathroom but stumbled over one of his boots, which he kicked out of the way. The release of kicking something felt so good that he kicked the other boot and then the chair, then he threw a book, then the small lamp that sat on the small table by his bed. With each item he threw, with each chair he pushed over, with each scream, his rage seemed to increase and he couldn’t stop.
When he turned his golf clubs over the thin rods spilled across the floor; grabbing one, he proceeded to rain blow after blow on everything within his reach. He spared nothing; he struck the column that stood in the center of his quarters, the dresser, his bed, the window which didn’t break but brought the drapes down, tangled around the club. He threw the club as hard as he could across the room and sank to the floor behind the bed, curling himself into ball, lying on his side. It was then that the tears replaced the rage.
He wasn’t certain how long he lay on the floor with his body coiled like a spring. Finally spent from the tears, he pulled himself up and collapsed on the bed. He felt numb and maybe that was why he could bring the memories that hurt the most to his consciousness. Faces flashed through his mind so quickly that he was having difficulty keeping up. They spun out of control until only one face was in filling his mind, Elizabeth’s.
Images of her running toward the chair in Antarctica with a stunned and then incredulous look on her face floated across his vision. He remembered how confused he had felt as all these people who he had never seen before rushed toward him. His first meeting with Rodney was with a Rodney who started giving him instructions to think this and think that, all the while making it very clear he was annoyed that a dumb jet jockey was able to do things he couldn’t do. They had kept him there for hours, asking him to call up one image after another. It was during a rare break that Elizabeth came to talk to him about joining the Atlantis expedition.
He had found his way to the canteen, desperate for a cup of coffee to ease his headache, and had just sat down at a table when she sat down across from him. She told him about the stargate, the SGC, Atlantis, and she asked him to join the expedition. He had remained in the canteen for more than hour after she left overwhelmed by the things she had told him. He may have flipped a coin a few times but in the end, he had decided to go, there was nothing left for him on Earth but chopper flights above a cold landscape. That decision had changed his life.
He thought he was done with the tears but he welled up again as he thought of all the things that had happened since they first set foot on Atlantis. He knew there would be danger, which he was prepared for but he never thought that he would be on Atlantis without Elizabeth.
Teyla had asked him on the journey from Earth back to the Pegasus galaxy if he had loved Elizabeth. He had asked himself that same question many times before Elizabeth died and after she was gone but he knew that if he had to ask whether he loved her or not, then he had his answer. He loved Elizabeth but as a friend and a mentor. She believed in him, trusted him when maybe she shouldn’t have, gave him the opportunity to save his career, and defended him against those who thought he would never become a good officer. She had given him his life back but he had taken hers.
Since Teyla had confronted him, he had thought about her words; they had floated over and over in his head. Elizabeth made the call to drop the shields to give him more power to launch Atlantis; it wasn’t his fault that they didn’t have enough power. The fact that the laser beam from the Replicator bored through the asteroid quicker than they had hoped was something else he couldn’t help, so why couldn’t he make himself admit that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t his fault. He was finding it difficult to challenged Teyla’s logic but he was pretty sure it was the alcohol that was keeping him from coming up with reasons he should be feeling guilty. Was Teyla right? The one thing he couldn’t control was where Elizabeth was standing when the beam struck the tower; she was right, that piece he couldn’t control.
“Damn it, Sheppard, you should have protected her, you should have been stronger, you should have been able to get Atlantis out of the water if you only knew how to control that damn gene better.” Curling up on his side, he began to pound his pillow with his fist; tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He felt helpless, not sure what he should do or what he should think or who to turn to for help. He’d never turned to anyone for help; never thought anyone would care.
Slowly he rolled over on his back; he stretched his legs and stared up at the ceiling. Teyla. He could talk to her but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do anymore. Things weren’t the same now that she was with Kanaan. He was having difficulty adjusting to the change in their relationship. When she had asked him if he had been in love with Elizabeth, he had wondered what her reaction would have been if he had told her that he was never certain if he was in love with Elizabeth because he was never certain that he wasn’t in love with her.
Ronon had once alluded to the possibility of he and Teyla being together and he had considered it for a minute, then dismissed it. Later that same night, alone in the dark trying to deal with Carson’s death, he had wondered if maybe he needed Teyla after all. But he never acted on his feelings for Teyla or Elizabeth and in the end, the choices were taken away from him; Elizabeth was gone and Teyla had chosen Kanaan. He was alone, as he had been after his mother died.
He raised his arm and covered his eyes, “You have certainly made another mess of things haven’t you. Your team gets in a fight today and you did nothing. What the hell is wrong with you?” His head was pounding and he wanted to take a shower or get drunker, he couldn’t decide.
An apology was due to his teammates for his behavior on Kieren; he had made a total ass of himself, sitting at the table drinking masut while Ronon, Teyla and Rodney fought that monster of a man. Then he had simply walked out, waiting at the gate for them. Some leader he turned out to be, leaving his team because he couldn’t deal with his feelings. How could he face them after what he had done, having left them to deal with the problem without him? He laughed at that thought; it wasn’t like they would blame him for anything he did right now. No, his teammates would be concerned, sympathetic, understanding, by his side no matter what idiotic behavior he exhibited.
Teyla would be calming, soothing, telling him that he shouldn’t blame himself for Elizabeth’s death. She had said all that to him many, many times before and knowing Teyla’s patience level, she would continue to say the exact same thing to him over and over. She had been an anchor for his team, a voice of reason when things turned dire, never afraid to challenge him when she thought he was wrong. He had learned to listen to her instincts and had become a better leader by realizing that force was not always the right course to take.
He trusted her with his life and felt she was the only person that he could let his guard down around to whatever extent he ever could open up with anyone. He supposed that was why he had such conflicting feelings about her since they met. She was beautiful, with a smile that lit up the universe; her loyalty, passion for life even with the treat of the Wraith weighing on her people, her belief in him had made her a part of his soul. Yet he could never bring himself to take the next step and find out if he cared for her more than he would allow himself to believe. When she was gone, he feared for her and her baby and would have sacrificed his life to bring her home. But he brought her home to Kanaan and that was how it was to be.
He had walked out on Rodney today. He had never deserted Rodney before and still couldn’t fathom why he behaved that way. He had developed ‘friendships’ before but never one with a more unlikely character than Dr. Rodney McKay. High strung, high maintenance, unsure of himself yet arrogant to a fault, mischievous, and deadly serious, quite a line-up of traits to be possessed by one man. Yet, there was more to McKay, he was as loyal as Teyla, maybe not as fearless as Ronon but certainly as brave when he needed to be. His brilliance had saved their hides more times than he could count; maybe more times than he would admit. He relished in needling the scientist to the point that Rodney would start calling him a flyboy and go off muttering to himself. He knew Rodney enjoyed their verbal sparring as much as he did. He had never had a better friend.
Sheppard sighed as he thought about the big Satendan that had become such a part of his life. From the beginning, he had never doubted that Ronon Dex was going to be his friend. He was intrigued by the life the Wraith had forced him to endure as a runner, a prey for their sport. How had this man who had lost everything when the Wraith decimated Sateda survive such an ordeal? Yet he did; he was the bravest man that Sheppard had ever met and his devotion to Atlantis, through tested on a few occasions, had never waivered. He knew that Ronon had to have trusted him from their first encounter; the big guy had kidnapped Teyla and him but he had never been in fear of him. He had promised to have the tracking device removed from his back and bless Carson, scared as always but never letting him down, freed Ronon from his bizarre captivity.
He smiled as he remembered Elizabeth’s hesitation about allowing Ronon to stay on Atlantis but in the end, she had trusted his judgment. He couldn’t tell her the real reason that he felt such kinship with Ronon, although she may have understood, he just couldn’t verbalize it to anyone. Ronon and he shared a common trait; they were alone. Ronon lost his family, his loved ones to the Wraith and he had lost the same things but to his father’s desire to control his life. They both had no where to call home. The one thing that Ronon did that he hadn’t was Ronon endured his trials with determination and pride. Him? He had simply hid in the cockpit of whatever aircraft he was allowed to fly and had found a way to screw that up as well.
So why did these people feel such loyalty to him? He didn’t understand; he did what he had to do, what he thought was the right thing to do in his mind even if it didn’t always mesh with what others thought. Yet his team was unwavering in their support. He knew he didn’t deserve it but he appreciated it; treasured it.
As he rose upright intending on getting up for something to drink, water this time, he realized how dizzy he was. Holding his head in his hands, he sat on the edge of the bed and felt the memories of Elizabeth flood his mind again.
The pain that seized his heart was unbearable and he fought to dampen it, push it aside. He tried to concentrate on what Teyla had told him; that her death wasn’t his fault. Visions of her flooded his mind; seeing her on the monitor after surgery, Jennifer telling him how grave her condition was; the fear in Rodney’s eyes when he told him that he turned on the nanites; then seeing her sitting up, completely whole again. He knew the risk they were taking with the nanites but they had her back, only to lose her again on the Replicator planet. He knew that Rodney felt as if her loss was his mistake, he should have let her die naturally and never turned on the nanites.
Then she reappeared on their monitor, looking healthy but she was a human replication of the original and they lost her once more. Then her disembodied energy came to Atlantis and for a brief time, he felt a glimmer of hope that she could come back to them. But it wasn’t to be; none of those chances made a difference. Elizabeth was gone and life had to continue.
Was that what he was really doing? Was he putting his life on hold because he didn’t want to go on without Elizabeth? Or was he grieving for his lost chances with Elizabeth or Teyla or Nancy, maybe even his father or never seeing his mother to say goodbye. Was he hiding behind all these excuses to not face up to the fact that only one person could make a difference in his life and that was him? Maybe it was time to stop running away. Maybe he needed to talk to his team, to accept that they all felt guilty about losing her. Maybe it was time for him to move ahead and not let guilt the guilt of Elizabeth’s loss consume him.
He stood up, shakily, and made his way to the small refrigerator to get a bottle of water. Leaning against the counter, he drank the water down quickly and decided maybe he needed a shower.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, he shook his head and muttered, “You look like shit, Sheppard.” Opening the door to the large shower, he reached in and had barely turned the faucet on when another wave of dizziness overcame him and he lost his balance. He reached for a small ceramic shelf located inside the shower to steady himself but the momentum of his weight pulled the shelf off the wall.
He fell onto the shower floor, hitting his head and losing consciousness. A sharp edge of the broken shelf slid across his left arm leaving a long cut along the inside of his wrist. Mixed with the cold water streaming down the drain was a rivulet of red blood.