Spoilers: A little one for S9 SG1 in general (Character)

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Lone Sheep
Lost In A Crowd

I place the warm mug in her hands, hoping the sweet tea will calm her nerves. She's shaking a little, which surprises me. It really shouldn't. It's not the first time she's woken from a nightmare, thrashing about, calling out for help.

I take care of her. Normally, you wouldn't think she'd need anyone to do that, the woman who's remained our fearless leader throughout troubled times, but she does. I promised I'd take care of her; he made me swear I would. Who am I to refuse the earnest request of a man who is like a brother to me? I just never knew it would be the last thing he'd be able to ask of me, that I'd never see him again. I also didn't think it would get this far, my substitution for his companionship, that I would come to fill his role in her life.

I rub Elizabeth's back soothingly, the way I remember me ma used to do when I was upset, bless her soul. I'll never see her again, either. Elizabeth and I are stuck in an odd place, more than friends, but not lovers. She asked me to hold her once, long ago, and I've done as she asks ever since – anything I can do to console her, even though I know nothing is enough.

She stares blankly off into space, holding the cup in both hands as its contents grow cold. I know she's trying not to think of him, she appears to have repressed the memories, apart from these flashes in her nightmares. After those first few months, she stopped mentioning him. No word of Rodney has since passed her lips. She neither sadly nor fondly recalls him, choosing instead not to recall him at all. But his name often comes back in the night, the words ripped from her throat and the reality of the past wrenched back into existence – slamming into her, leaving her body breathless and her psyche rattled by the ghost that visits.

I try to ignore it the best I can, to quell my growing resentment over her silence. By day, she denies him having existed. By night, he forces his way back into her memories, haunting her, but she still says very little – denying him further. I wait, and I wish that she'd say something, that one morning, after an episode, she'll rethink it all and finally grieve, because right now it feels like she's losing him over and over again, with no space to breathe in between. She leaves all of us unable to accept the fact that's he gone, like so many others. Because we cannot speak of him, we cannot let him go.

I wonder how long this will go on for. Seven years was traditional, but I don't think we can last that long before someone mentions something that will set off. The problem is I'm not sure if she has got it wrong. She's acting just like I imagine he might, if the situation was reversed, but we'll likely never know. All over Atlantis, people are getting on with life, attempting to forget that we're stranded once more. Perhaps secretly, in her own mind, she doesn't want to believe that she'll forever be here with us, when Rodney is back 'home' – the place we all wanted to be, the place that's so far out of reach, with our best hopes all shot to pieces and the one man we depended on to fix everything not here to help. Still, he's on the other side, and maybe I should have that hope that she does, that out there he's trying to get back to us. Meanwhile, she goes on pretending everything is normal and he's not really lost to us, just denied. As if in denying his memory, she can stave off that fear that he won't be back, like denial gives her some control. Whatever the truth is, I know as I look at her, taking the now empty cup away as she falls back into a restless sleep, that she's lost to me and always will be because she won't believe he's lost to her.