A/N: No matter what you think this is the start of the fanfic, its going to be quite angsty but will get improve I promise.

Spoilers: None I can see so far but its possible that there will be for Epsiodes 1-13 later.

Disclaimer: I think its quite clear I don't own the characters but I'll say it anyway, they belong to whoever it is responsible for production etc of the Stargate franchise. Just some harmless fanfic fun once again.

At first she had hidden her dark thoughts, putting up her diplomatic facade. The warm smile, the sense of hope and order.

Recently she had stopped.
No amount of makeup could hide the deep dark circles of her eyes, nothing ultimately could disguise her anguish at what had happened.

It had been quick, at least from the teams perspective.
He'd just gone, enveloped by the light of a wraith dart.

She'd never seen such herself but she imagined it was some how like the light of heaven staring down upon a person, only the light was false, it led to hell first.

The darts had gone as quickly as they had appeared.
With Rodney Mckay whisked away through the clouds to who knows where.
A ship they hadn't found where it should have been.
Taking her friend with it, if he had still been alive by then.

She choked on the thought, of her 'friend'. She missed him more than she thought she could, showing her just how much he had come to mean to her. She wasn't sure if her feelings were appropriate for that classification.

But it barely mattered now he was gone, except she wished it was as simple as losing a mere friend.

She walked around the table, her free hand tracing the surface. Finding her fingers lacing over where had used to sit. She closed her eyes trying to picture him there, envisage his presence in the chair so close. Wishing her hands could find his fingers as the moved around blindly in a lazy pattern.

But they did not and she came out of her trance by the interuption of Grodin's voice.

"AR-1 are back Doctor Weir. They report Dr. Janson is injured, they are taking her to the infirmary now"

She simply nodded, her back still turned, her fingers idle at Rodney's place.
Grodin exited knowing it was best to let their leader be alone with her grief.
For all she knew they thought it just another symptom of the responsibility she had for her people, worsened by her closeness to the latest victim.

She took her hand abruptly off the table, trying to remember that the face she'd see next at that place was that of Dr. Janson.

She was the fourth replacement for the role Rodney had filled on their main team.

Dr. Zelenka had tested the waters but found himself not up to it physically and the second mistakenly placed person had been Kavanagh.
She hadn't wanted to put him there but everyone deserved a trial.However he'd rubbed it in all there faces a little too much that he had finally gotten one up on the Canadian, he hadn't even seemed to care he'd only gotten a victory by forfeit, under the death of a man they all agreed was far better than him in almost every way.

She'd dropped Kavanagh by citing him as having unreconciliable differences with the other members. He'd protested like she had wondered if he would. She'd half believed he might be sensitive and not press the issue but he had unfortunately.

Perhaps that had been when she'd broken down, after her outburst at him. For once he hadn't left her office with a smirk, it had taken a morbid rage to shut him up.

That had been three weeks ago.

Dr. Hudson had been next, he was an anthropologist mainly with an odd mix of physics in his education. He wasn't the ideal fit but he'd gotten along with team fine and had been able to keep up.

What had happened to Hudson had perhaps pushed her over further the edge.But atleast they still had Hudson, despite his permanent residence in the infirmary. Carson still held out hope he might wake from his coma. Especially if they could find some Ancient medical gear lying around somewhere in the city.

It seemed the position couldn't be filled by anyone else or else it was the kiss of death, or pain, to those who did like Hudson and Janson.

She hoped Francesca Janson would be alright, she'd grown quite attached to her this last week. The softly spoken french woman had touched her heart, easing her pain a little when she had offered an ear for her problems.
It was ironic that Francesca had been the one to do that because it was the same role that Rodney had often played to her and she had openly cried at the womans friendly suggestion.Maybe she had only talked to Francesca because she had already shown her her weakness and denying the need would have come off as worse.

Or maybe it was because she was dying inside and talking lifted her sorrow subtlely.

Either way she struggled each day contemplating the decisions she had to make.
Today she hadn't wanted to get up at all, wishing for a bliss to take it all away, to forget and sleep peacefully once more.
Today made it an even month that he had been MIA. And they had no leads on where to find him.

It was logical to presume he was not just gone but dead.

She was trying to write the report but found her eyes averting the pages and her feet growing listless at sitting at her desk thinking such thoughts. She didn't want to give up hope on him, she couldn't blankly accept he was no more.

But the report beckoned. She knew procedure and they could spend no more time looking for him, the rescue efforts having been extended far beyond the limits that were normal. She'd had the justification that he was one of the most important members of Atlantis but that only stretched so far when they didn't have a clue.

The futility of the search overcame her along with the despair at having to give up.
The normaly calm leader of Atlantis sat down in Mckays chair and sobbed, her head in her hands and the unfinished report infront of her.