Summary: 2-3 years in future. Sheppard/Weir established relationship. Response to Challenge #36 over at Livejournal community sg-challenges. Prompt word: Tears. Character Death. "She has every reason to cry"
Lorne stumbles injured into the gateroom, and Elizabeth can feel her heart break.
Because he is alone.
Everything around her loses focus; her deepest fears confirmed when a set of blood-splattered dogtags are pressed into her reluctant hands. Brain going into overdrive, she tries to come up with any other explanation. But she knows the reason.
He is dead.
Expecting to suddenly break down; she swiftly orders the gate shut, ignores the pitying glances and escapes.
Collapsing to the floor she begins to shake, overwhelmed by a hundred mixed emotions, but no tears flow from her eyes.
She cannot cry.
-------------------------------------
Days after, and she worries - having not shown this sign of mourning.
Kate tells her everyone grieves differently. Some lock themselves away from the world; others find comfort in friends and family. But this doesn't console her.
She feels everything she should. The heart-stabbing pain, feeling of utter loss, and having no idea how she will go on.
She has every reason to cry; she lost a colleague, a friend, a lover, a partner. But even as she places the wreath into the gate, as she listens to the speeches given and toasts made; not a tear is shed.
-------------------------------------
Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and waves a trembling hand over the control.
The door slides effortlessly open.
It's exactly how they left it almost a month ago. The bed half made, clothes scattered about and two semi-neat piles of reports stacked at the desk.
A few slow places land her at the bed, and she lowers herself down.
She lies on his side.
A weak smile reaches her at the sight of his crossword puzzle, abandoned months before. But the withered flower lying on top has her curling up under the covers.
No more 'just-because' presents.
-------------------------------------
It is late at night when she eventually ventures out into their sacred place.
It doesn't seem as inviting; the once soothing crash of the waves are now just reminders of the storm. The solitude provided is no longer wanted. She yearns for him to be standing by her side.
Crossing to the other side, she stares across into the darkness.
Everything reminds her of him. Of their arguments, their talks, their confessions.
A small smile dances on her lips as she remembers their first proper kiss. It disappears as she remembers their last.
The stars are looking brighter tonight.
-------------------------------------
She thought the photos had all been put away, but somehow this one escaped.
She grins at the face Ronon is pulling in the background - in mockery of Rodney, their photographer. John has his arm around her shoulder; hers snaked simply around his waist.
There's nothing special, just a picture of the leaders taken during an Athosian festival. But it is their expressions that are her undoing.
The smiles lighting up their faces, the look of utter joy passing between them as they gaze at each other.
It's of two people completely in love.
The tears begin their descent.
-------------------------------------