Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.
Warning: Spoilers for 'The Siege, Part II'
Run
by Hatcheter
The ocean was still, as smooth and dark as polished obsidian. The stars shone brilliantly overhead, sending their light to play on the mirrored surface, creating a second field of stars to look back at the first.
Out of the dark sea the graceful spires of Atlantis rose, wrapped in soft amber light. She stood majestically over the water, a silent sentinel of the approaching dawn. In the darkness, the recent scars that marred the city were hidden from observers' eyes.
As the first hint of morning light appeared on the horizon, the tranquility of the city gave way to the gentle slap of running shoes on the metal hull. Elizabeth Weir emerged from the city core, running along the edge of one of the main piers.
"Are you okay?"
To her left was the edge of the pier, and water several dozen feet below. Ahead, more than half a mile of metal stretched toward sunrise, waiting for her daily visit.
As the pier widened, Elizabeth increased her pace. She took long, smooth strides, breathing deeply and evenly. After weeks of running, she knew every step along the path. In the months since the Wraith attack, it had become the only solace she had.
Her pace quickened as she approached the outer pier and its towers. The nearest tower bore a gaping hole, the result of a crashed Wraith dart. Twisted beams poked out of the hole, holding on to tattered pieces of the wall they once supported. Someone had remarked that it looked like a tree with steel leaves. To Elizabeth it looked like a malicious, broken grin, reveling in the losses the people within the city had suffered.
"I'd like to say something while I still can."
The loose black t-shirt she wore, now soaked in sweat, clung to Elizabeth's skin as she continued to push herself. As the sun started rose overhead, the temperature and humidity rocketed up. Summer had come to Atlantis, and they had all been surprised to learn how warm this planet was. Few people dared venture onto the balconies during the days. Even nights were uncomfortably warm.
Elizabeth hastily wiped sweat from her eyes, and swerved to avoid a large chunk of twisted metal. It may have been the remains of a dart; it was darker than the city's structures usually were. But without any markings, she couldn't be sure, so she never bothered to report it to the repair crews. They had months of work to do before they could worry about picking up the smaller scraps left over from the fight.
"I have to do this, and you know it."
She passed the end of the pier, the farthest point from the center of the city. As she rounded back toward the city, she heard footsteps approaching. A moment later Atlantis' military commander appeared, running toward her from the opposite direction.
Captain Ford nodded to her, and she returned the gesture. Like her, he seemed to find peace in a long, quiet run around the city's perimeter. Whether he ran from the same sorrows she did, or other demons, Elizabeth did not know. They crossed paths just once or twice a week; her daily runs formed a regular pattern around the city, while he seemed to choose his route at random, sometimes weaving around the towers and spires of the piers or the city center.
The center of the city was now in sight, and Elizabeth quickened her pace again. She was running flat out, panting hard as her muscles burned. She pushed herself on, rapidly closing on her finish line. Her vision began to blur from lack of oxygen and sweat that poured into her eyes.
Her muscles finally had enough, protesting the abuse. She staggered the last dozen feet and collapsed in the shadow of the first tower that sprang up from the city's center. Elizabeth lay there for a moment before rolling over, staring up at the cloudless blue sky as she waited for her breathing to calm.
A gentle breeze wafted in off the ocean, causing her to shiver. She rose slowly, and walked to the nearest tower.
"Are you okay? You will be."Just inside the tower was a transporter, which she used to move to the central spire. Entering the gate room, Elizabeth paused. Next to the stairs, a large plaque had been mounted on the wall. Carved into it, in both English and Ancient, were names. They were the men and women who had died in defense of the city. There were too many of them.
She reached out and brushed her fingers across the last name on the list. The one whose loss was most painful, and most significant.
Colonel John Sheppard, USAF
The basic idea for this came to me several weeks ago, then solidified after I saw 'The Siege, Part II'. Was written mostly in the early hours of the morning, when sane people are sleeping. Was not beta read, so all problems are my own.