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Stargate Atlantis: Solace
Part One:
Morning Services
Early morning, just after 7 am. The sky is very dark and gray, and more clouds are closing in. A light rain is beginning to fall, and a large group has gathered on the main deck. There would be many more, if only there were enough room. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, head of operations on AR1, stands facing the throng of scientific, military, and auxiliary personnel, trying to form the words that will help, make them feel even a little bit better.
Make her feel better.
She starts to speak of him, their fallen comrade, her voice clear and unfaltering, those assembled unable to discern the slight catch in her voice, the cast of her eyes toward the people closest to her in this strange place. She glances at Rodney Mckay, the one that before today she would've bet money on that he would keep his cool, show some sign of his patented self-centeredness. He is wearing an unreadable expression, but Weir is a good judge of what the eyes reveal. There is pain, and a strong resolve not to let that pain show. She knows there will be more than one empty liquor bottle in his quarters tonight, though.
Teyla is standing close to him, and to Weir's keen eye, it looks as though the young Althoosian will fall over if he so much as moves a quarter-inch away. Her face is much easier to read, her mouth drawn into a bitter line, her eyes wet, and not merely from the rain that is beating harder now on deck, soaking through everyone gathered.
Weir talks until there is nothing left to say, until finally, even she cannot keep up the facade of composure and steadfastness. The services end, and in lieu of a body, a wreath made of flowers found on World 25A29 is thrown into the swirling deep below. She can't stay out here anymore, but tells those assembled that they are free to be with their thoughts for the rest of the day.
One day to grieve, and one day to get over a loss felt throughout the station. One day to realize that the loss of John Sheppard was not a dream, but a very grim reality on a world where everything is very uncertain.
Elizabeth walks through, half expecting to hear a familiar laugh, a sarcastic remark, something that will reassure her that all of this is just a dream, and John will be right before her eyes, asking where's the funeral, why is she so glum.
But it isn't going to happen, is it? She thinks, closer tothe onlyplaceshe will allow herself to let her defenses down.
Her room is dark, and she decides to keep it that way, for the time being. The place she is journeying to has no light, there is only a consuming sadness, and as she lays across her serviceable bed, the tears start to come.
One day is scarcely enough, but it will have to do for now.