Title: On the Edge

Summary: When John doesn't come back from an off-world mission Elizabeth finds herself on the edge.

Paring: Sheppard/Weir

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine. Only the story line and any made up characters that may appear in the story belong to me.

Warnings: Suspected character death, disturbing elements (depression, cutting…).

A/N: I'm not sure where this story came from but the last few days have been pretty shitty for me and I needed to blow off some steam and since writing usually helps me do that I sat myself down at the computer and just started writing, this is what came out.

(Elizabeth's point of view)

Six months, it's been six months since John stepped through the Stargate and never came back. Six months since I lost the love of my life. After six months with no word from John and no luck with our search efforts I was forced to make the decision to officially declare him missing in action and presumed dead, we held the memorial service for him today. The service made everything seem so much more final. There's no longer any hope – no more pretending – that he'll suddenly reappear and tell me that every things ok.

I've lost people I love before but I never expected to lose him; he was my support, my rock and my comfort, my one safe harbor. I never doubted we'd be together for years; maybe even forever. Then this happened and I'm left to wonder; why? After all we've been through, all the tears and joys we have shared I still can't believe we'll never share anything ever again. I still can't believe that from now on he'll live only in my memories.

We had every obstacle in our way yet we made it work; we had three great years together, three years to love him and be loved back. The memories of those three years are now all I have left to cling to at night. God, if only I knew why. If only I could understand why…?

Tears run down my face and no matter what I do I can't stop them; they keep falling like a waterfall of misery. I feel so broken up inside that I can barely walk. I can barely stand, I don't eat or sleep anymore – how can I do any of those things when my reason for living is gone?

I always figured I'd have time to tell him what he truly meant to me; how he held my heart in his hands. I figured I had time, but now I have none. All the plans we made; for tomorrow, for next year, for our future they're all gone.

I don't know which feeling is worse the anger or sadness. I'm angry at the universe for taking him away from me, angry that life has gone on even though he's not here, angry that even though my heart has shattered I still have a job to do, that I have to put on an act so that the others can't see what is really happening to me. And worst of all I'm angry at him for dying…for leaving me.

A sadness envelopes me like coldness in every cell of my body, like a piece of me is gone, lost and broken. I feel his absence like a knife in my heart, like a fire in my body, eating me up alive. The sadness makes me feel like I want to die sometimes. I never knew I could feel this much pain and still be alive. The agony I feel tears me up inside and breaks me in two; surely no one can hurt as badly as I do and survive.

All this pain, so much pain, I never thought love could bring so much pain. It feels like I'm being cut in two everywhere I turn I imagine I see him, every night I feel his arms around me…but when I wake up he's gone and I'm left feeling cold and empty, so cold, always so cold. I fear I'll never be warm again.

I feel so utterly cold and lost and just wish for it all to be a bad dream, to wake up in his arms, safe in his embrace, but it isn't a nightmare; this is cold, hard reality. I miss him everyday. Even just the imagined reflection of him in the mirror or his scent on the pillow next to mine causes me to fall apart.

I can barely breathe, barely move anymore. If I try to speak I find I can't. When I try to focus I find I can't; my eyes are clouded by tears and my heart is clouded by pain. I feel like my legs are breaking under me and I'm falling towards the ground, with no one to catch me.

His death has left a void in my heart that no one can ever fill. I wish there was someone to blame for his death. Someone, anyone I could let my frustration out on; an enemy, a war, anything. But there are none. I thought he was unbreakable but now I see even the strongest can fall. These last few months have been a nightmare but at least before today I could still pretend it was just that; a bad dream. Now, I have nothing left, nothing at all. I feel so alone and cold…like someone has killed the sun and drowned the stars forever.

I know the others are worried about me, about the fact that they haven't seen me shed a single tear in all this time. Worried about how I refuse to take the bait at their attempts to make me break down for my own good. But no matter how I feel I just can't seem to let myself give them what they want. I'm still the person in charge, I'm still the leader of the expedition and as such I refuse to let anyone see how much his disappearance is really affecting me, no matter how much I may want to.

It's been a week since the memorial service and I can't take it anymore, I can't deal with all the looks of pity everyone gives me, all the false promises that things will get better, all the people that flock around me so that I'm never alone – no one has come right out and said it but I can see it in their eyes, they're all afraid of what I might do if left alone. And to be honest sometimes I'm afraid of what I'll do too, but after a week the need to get away, to just be alone for a while becomes too over powering and I find myself escaping to the southwest pier – one his favorite spots in the whole city. I know it won't be long until someone finds me or I'm needed back in the control room, but even just a few minutes alone would be nice.

For the last hour I've sat on the pier staring at the piece of broken glass I hold in one of my hands. I don't really remember where I found the piece of glass or even why I started, but about two weeks after John first went missing I found myself sitting in my dark room watching as the moon light glinted off the glass as I gently dragged it over my arm. In all these months I've never once actually broken the skin, never actually drawn blood, but I've wondered from time to time what it would be like, what would happen if I did cross that line and actually draw blood. As strange as it may sound it helps….in a way, when things get so confusing and my mind feels like it's about to explode and I'm left with nowhere to go and with a desire to just scream and never stop.

I think the reason I do it is because of all the mixed feelings running through me. All the feelings of loneliness, sadness, abandonment, and sometimes it's just the feeling of being down and depressed. I can't always say when it'll come, just suddenly it's there like a shadow made by the sun. Suddenly I feel like crying, fighting, screaming…and even dying. Suddenly it feels like everything is spinning out of control and about to explode.

After all these months it all gets to be too much and I just want something to ease the indescribable pain I feel within so I do something I haven't done before, I make a small slice in my finger and finally draw blood for the first time; it's just a small cut but it still bleeds a lot. It's fascinating in a weird way to follow the drops of blood as they run down my hand.

I'm not sure how long I just sat the watching the blood on my hand, but suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by someone calling me over the radio about a briefing in five minutes. I'm torn between wanting them to see the cut I've made and wanting to hide it. In the end I decided to just let it be and wonder if anyone notices.

After several long briefings I'm finally able to make it back to my solitude on the southwest pier. No one seemed to notice the small cut I had made earlier. Maybe I didn't want them to…maybe I needed them to. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if I've always felt the way I do now, it seems like it's been a lifetime since things felt good. I used to never have a care in the world as long as he was by my side, with him there I could make it through anything. But that all changed when he failed to came back to me. In a heartbeat I lost everything of value to me.

I know that I'm safe here and I guess I'm also loved here, but ever since he disappeared things have gone downhill. Nothing amuses me anymore, nothing holds my interest. I'm torn, lost and alone. I don't want to be alone, yet I find myself trying to shy away from everybody. I'm depressed but mad at myself for being so because I know that's the last he thing he'd want me to be…I'm so confused and lost. My mind is a conflicted and confusing mix even I can't sort out anymore.

I feel like no one understands me. I just feel like sitting alone and feeling sorry for myself…crying, tears on my cheeks, a piece of glass in my hand. Words can never explain how I feel and no one would understand…Maybe I don't want them to maybe I don't want them to see through the act I put on for them. It's at times like these I wonder if I'm crazy, if I'm lost forever.

I feel so lost…so alone. I can't explain what I feel. Everything in my mind blends together, my heart hurts with a steady pain. So many images play before my eyes as I again stare at the piece of glass in my hand.

Having already crossed the line and drawn blood once it's not hard to stare in fascination as I put the glass to the skin inside my palm and draw a line, biting my teeth together over the pain, but the physical pain is welcomed because it drowns out the indescribable pain within me. I wait a little and then I see the small drops of blood peek forth from the wound and begin to run. I'm strangely content at that moment; I don't feel any pain within me nor any pain over the cut…my mind is a blank and I'm….not happy but not sad either. I just am.

And I'm left to wonder…..is that what death is like?