Disclaimer:If I owned this series, the "soft reset" never would have happened and I would still be watching the show on a regular basis.

Summary:This is the first ficlet in what I'm going to call my "Lamentations series." It'll be a collection of stories based on the other characters' reactions to what happened during the first part of season 4; so there will definitely be major spoilers. This takes place somewhere in between "Lifeline" and "Missing."


"Te somnia nostra reducunt." --Ovid
He dreamed about her every night, vivid dreams that toyed with his emotions and played with his sense of reality; by day, the city held memories of her around every corner. He was a man haunted by brilliant viridian eyes and gentle curls. Sometimes he swore he could see her, a vapor that seemed to float amongst the people to whom she'd given her all; then he'd blink and she'd disappear. He refused to think of her as a ghost, because that would mean admitting something he couldn't even put into thought; but in many ways she was just that, as wraith-like as the life-sucking aliens native to this galaxy. He decided that he was going crazy; whether that was a good thing or a bad thing depended on the day.

His team was worried about him, as well they should be, but not for the reasons they thought. They were concerned that he might become reckless; but that didn't make a lot of sense. If he got himself killed, how would that help her? No, what they should have been worried about was that the daily task of presenting a strong, unaffected front would become too much for him; because when that happened, he would lose it. He would load up a Puddlejumper with as many supplies as would fit, strap on as many guns as he could carry, and take off after her. If he were to be honest, that notion had already crossed his mind more than once; but he knew she wouldn't want him to abandon his duties to their people, and running off without backup wouldn't be the smartest idea anyway. If he snapped, though, nothing would hold him back; he would be as selfish and stupid as necessary to get her back.

He wasn't the only one hurting though, not by a long shot. She had known every person under her command by name, and she went out of her way to make sure everyone knew they were valued. It was impossible not to be affected by her; and now that she was gone, it was impossible not to feel her absence keenly. She was Atlantis' guiding star, the heart of the Ancient city; without her they were lost, scattered, broken. Colonel Carter was incredibly competent, and he had no doubt that she would help restore the limping city back to its former glory…but she lacked that uncanny ability to bring out the very best in everyone; she would never replace the expedition's soul.

McKay felt almost as guilty as he did for losing her, primarily because he had been the one to reactivate the nanites in her body. He hadn't hurried to dispel the astrophysicist of that notion, because while Rodney wasn't responsible for leaving her behind, he had thrown her back into her own personal Hell.

The Asurans had done a real number on her the first time around. She hadn't described what she'd gone through in a lot of detail, but it had changed her profoundly. He hadn't been able to pinpoint what was different about her at first, and when he realized what had happened, his heart had ached for her. The Asurans had taken something precious away from her, something that she had held on to stubbornly despite the trials they'd faced; they had taken away her faith in the inherent goodness of the universe, and he hated them for it.

So while reactivating the nanite remnants lying dormant in her body was a terrible security risk, one that she wouldn't have let them take, his underlying anger toward Rodney had come more from the scientist's willingness to put her back under the machine's control. Maybe he was being too harsh on the other man; if she hadn't been open about her experience with him, then she certainly wouldn't have told McKay. Still, there was no missing that tormented look her eyes would attain sometimes, and there could be no mistaking what had put it there.

He'd known Rodney cared about the expedition leader a great deal; before this whole incident, he'd wondered how much. Now he knew; McKay had loved her enough to go to the most extreme of measures to save her life.

But he had loved her enough to do what she would have wanted; he loved her enough to let her go.

Not that it had mattered; McKay had gone behind his back and given the little demons a wakeup call. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't incredibly relieved to see her sitting in the infirmary, alive and whole.

He hadn't been able to deal with talking to her, because he didn't know how to reassure her, not with his own emotions already in turmoil. And that look she had given him when she'd woken up, so accusatory and lost and scared, had completely unnerved him. He'd wanted to run over and pull her close; so instead, like the good soldier he was, he'd ordered that she be placed under quarantine. He knew she'd agreed with his precautions, but she hadn't been able to hide the sadness in her eyes. It had made him feel lower than dirt, like he was the most contemptible person who ever lived. He hadn't felt much better when he had asked her to join their mission to the Asuran home world; and when she'd told him, voice unwavering, not to hesitate to end her life should she prove a threat, he'd felt the gravity of the situation settle like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He had agreed, but not before he'd waved her concerns away with a promise that she'd be okay; it was a promise he'd failed to keep.

He'd actually given the order, told Rodney to activate the kill switch, and he had felt like a part of him was going to be executed along with her. He had thought he'd lost her once, then gotten her back only to lose her again. But the switch hadn't worked, and in that moment of mixed emotions his only clear thought was that he could redeem himself and atone for his mistakes by saving her. Instead, she'd sacrificed herself to save him and he had lost her anyway, just as he had feared.

He had fought against her, for her, and beside her; he never once thought he'd be fighting without her. It was almost too much for him to take and he couldn't believe she was lost to him forever. Like he had told Colonel Carter, he hadn't lost hope that she was still out there somewhere; and once he found her, he was never going to let her go again.

Ever.


Okay, I love Sam, I really do; but if TPTB don't bring back Elizabeth for season 5 they don't just suck at television, they suck at life. Kudos to Joe Flanigan for realizing what apparently escaped the writers: that when a character has been on a show for three years, and then that character leaves (or gets kicked off rolls eyes) it wouldn't be very realistic for the other characters to just go about their business like nothing had happened. And thanks to Torri for doing a fantastic job playing one of the best, and apparently most underappreciated, characters TPTB ever came up with.