Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis doesn't belong to me.
Summary: OneShot. Sort of a companion piece to "Nightmares" but doesn't have to be read as one. Spoilers for The Storm and The Eye. There is a sort of freedom, he has decided, in running. Angsty!Shep.
...Morning Run...
He runs every morning, when he can. When he isn't off world, when he isn't in the infirmary, when there isn't another great crisis that needs his every waking moment. He runs for an hour or so, when most of the Atlantis' residents are still in bed, or at least slumped over computer desks in various labs throughout the city. He loves the exercise, the motion and movement, the slow burning ache and the blood pounding in his ears. There is a sort of freedom, he has decided, in running.
But today is not just another day. Today is still yesterday night, the sky dark and cold as he finally gives up on sleep and slips out of his bed, mind almost distracted enough with nightmares and guilt to remain unaware of the icy floor on his bare feet as he rummages for clean clothes and slips into socks and sneakers.
All he can hear is Kolya's voice informing him of Elizabeth's death. All he can see is her face as Kolya dragged her to the gate. All he can feel is the rage and fear as he stood in the rain and screamed Kolya's name.
Past caring.
Past hope.
He had thought…he had been certain…
He finds himself in the farthest reaches of the explored part of the city, although he knows the chances of meeting anyone but his own guards at this time are doubtful at best.
He easily avoids their positions. The city is open to him as always, and for precious moments he can escape the frightened pitch of Rodney's voice, the blood seeping through his sleeve. For moments he drowns out the world in his heartbeat and the ocean air burning his sleep-deprived eyes.
He's been at it for hours--the ache in his ankles can attest to that. His shirt is drenched but when combined with cold air he's stayed cold. Cold enough that he's almost shivering, but it's more likely the memory of the moment when he realized something must have happened to Teyla and Beckett and he can't be in two places at once. The air is so cold it burns going down his throat but its parched enough that he doesn't really notice.
He doesn't stop.
He can never stop.
When he's running the sweat, the pain, make him forget the sound of sixty people running into a force field and blinking out of existence. He can focus on the beat of his pulse and the wide corridors and pretend to forget the pain in Sora's voice as she realized what was happening. Pretend to forget his own pain and guilt as he raised the shield.
So he runs. And he forgets. And he embraces the ache, the pain, the sore muscles that will surely come later today. There is a certain freedom, he has decided, in running. Freedom from his memories. Freedom in a focus he cannot achieve anywhere else.
And he needs whatever freedom he can find.