A/N: Originally written for the 'Scars' challenge on sgaflashfic. I'm not making any money off this, as one glance at my checkbook and the fact that the credit cards are currently residing in the freezer will tell you. Thanks to liketheriver for looking this over.
The bullet tumbled lazily end over end as Sheppard watched it travel through its arc, catching it easily. He'd lost track of how many times he's tossed it, rather than loading the cleaned gun, trying to divine some meaning from the object, now warm in his hand. He caught the bullet yet again, slightly startled by its lightness. It couldn't be more than a few grams, he mused, an almost insubstantial weight.
All it took was a single bullet to kill Kolya. Somehow it almost didn't seem right, seemed too easy, that this small mixture of metals, weighing no more than a few paperclips, ended the life of a man who'd inflicted so many scars.
He's tried to put the what-ifs behind him. He ignores how McKay rubs at the scar on his arm when he's especially worried, trying to steel himself for the worst to come.
He knows that not all scars are visible and tries to avoid Teyla's eyes when planning a mission to meet old trading partners of hers, knowing that she fears a repeat of the Genii, that trust will again be misplaced. He's seen the way Elizabeth and Carson look at each other as his team prepares to step through the gate, worried that Kolya is waiting and wants a repeat performance. And it takes willpower not to touch the small, slick patch of skin that remains blistered onto his chest as his own personal souvenir.
Most of all he tries to forget the haunting weight of all those who depended on him before the Wraith siege, lives needlessly lost if they'd only been able to secure that ZPM on Dagan. Grodin, Ford, and countless other names he's committed to memory.
Somehow he doesn't think he can balance these scales with just a single bullet.