Life continued, the way life does. Uncaring and unmindful of the fact that Lt. Aiden Ford was dead.
But life was out of kilter for John. He felt off-balanced, off-centered, but he didn't let it show. In fact, he revealed nothing for the three days he remained in the infirmary. Although he knew he had Beckett worried about him, simply because he acted like a model patient. He slept when he was supposed to sleep, ate when he was supposed to eat. Took his medication without argument and never once asked when he would be released. John derived a small amount of satisfaction from the fact that he seemed to be making everyone around him as unsettled as he felt. This wasn't supposed to be easy, on any of them. Losing Ford created a gaping hole that John could not allow to be filled. The hole was deep inside him.
The memorial service for Ford was scheduled for the night of John's release. He listened as Beckett gave him a list of things to do and not to do. He accepted the small bottle of Tylenol that he was ordered to use as needed, and he nodded his head when Beckett repeated, endlessly, that he needed to eat properly and continue to rest.
Then John was finally free and the first place he went to was the balcony that was east of his room. It was small and jutted out over city itself, rather than the water, and John knew no one ever came there but himself. It was his own, private, retreat. He moved to stand at the railing, hands gripping it tightly to ground himself when a wave of dizziness hit him, unexpectedly. John closed his eyes till it passed then he slid one hand into his pants pocket and withdrew one of Ford's dog tags. The other, still attached to the chain, he had given to Weir to pack up for Ford's grandparents. Someday they would find a way to send them home. But the one tag John clutched in his hand for a moment before tossing it hard. He didn't know where it would land and it didn't matter. It was a part of the city now, just as Ford had been.
This was the only way John knew how to say goodbye to him.
The memorial service started late. Elizabeth held off as long as she could, waiting for Sheppard to appear. But after twenty minutes, everyone started to get restless and Elizabeth knew the major wasn't coming. So she stepped up to the podium and made her speech. Then she stepped down to let others say a few words, moving to the back of the room and positioning herself so that she could keep one eye on the door.
But Sheppard never came. When the service was over, Elizabeth went looking for him. She found him in the last place she decided to look. In his room. When he invited her in, she was surprised to find him reading. Elizabeth moved to the bed and, without preamble, asked, "Why didn't you come to the service?"
"Was it mandatory?" John countered, as he marked his place in War and Peace and set it aside before looking up at her. He could see that she was both angry and puzzled.
"No...it wasn't mandatory," Elizabeth replied. "But I thought you would have wanted to be there. So you could say goodbye."
John felt her watching him, even when he shifted his gaze back down to the bed. "I don't need a service to do that," he said softly.
Elizabeth wasn't sure how to reply to that. She wasn't sure if she had a right to say anything. It bothered her that Sheppard wouldn't look at her now. It bothered her how calm and detached he sounded. From the moment they first met she had realized he was a man who burned with passion and determination. But now it was as if the fire inside him had burned out, and she felt the loss of that as deeply as she felt the loss of Lt. Ford. "I'm sorry," Elizabeth whispered, and she wasn't quite sure what it was she was apologizing for.
"So am I." John let it go at that. He knew what she meant, why she was here, but he didn't want to deal with her right now. He wanted to be alone. "I'm tired." He spoke quietly but bluntly.
"Of course." Elizabeth knew that he wanted her to leave, but she could also see that he was exhausted. She also knew that after she left he would pick up his book again rather than sleep. But she doubted he would read a single word. "Goodnight, Major," Elizabeth said, before turning and heading for the door.
John didn't respond in kind. He simply reached for his book, letting her go. There was nothing more to say. Nothing they could say that would change anything anymore. Once she was gone he opened his book again, but every word he read had no meaning. Still John turned page after page until the break of day. Once the light of day filled his room, chasing away the literal shadows, John prayed that the metaphorical shadows would be put to rest and only then did he close his eyes.
He slid into warm darkness, but his dreams were as unsettled as his soul.
"May I sit with you?"
Rodney looked up from his empty coffee cup, startled, and saw Teyla smiling at him. "Uh...sure," he replied, feeling a bit awkward. He and Teyla were teammates but little more. They didn't have enough in common, on any level, to become actual friends. And Rodney was fine with that. Friends were overrated anyway, and way too much maintenance. Still, he watched her sit and waited.
Teyla settled herself in the chair across from McKay. "How is your ankle?" she asked him.
"Still hurts and I hate crutches," Rodney stated, bluntly.
"It will heal if you give it time," Teyla responded.
Rodney knew that. "No kidding," he countered, leaning back in his chair to fold his arms over his chest and glare. "Did you want something?" Rodney was not good with small talk and pleasantries.
Teyla nodded. "I wanted to know how you were doing?"
"Why?" And Rodney could not keep the suspicion out of his tone.
"Because it matters to me," Teyla said softly. "This is a difficult time for everyone, but more so for the major. We must be strong for him."
Rodney knew that. He rubbed a hand over his face and blurted out," Sheppard is a soldier. He's killed a lot of people and he's used to people dying. He'll get over this, no problem."
Teyla reached out, but stopped short of touching Rodney's arm. Still, it drew his attention and she locked eyes with him. "This is different, Dr. McKay. You know that it is." And with that she stood up and walked away.
Heaving a sigh, Rodney went back to staring at his empty coffee cup. He knew what she meant, all too well.
John came awake with a start, heart thudding in his chest, his skin slicked in a cold sweat, and the image of Sumner's face imprinted in his head. It was one of many faces. Ford's image had been prominent in John's dreams. Gaul's face as well. Easier to bear was the sound of all the Genii hitting the shield and being zapped out of existence. Faceless death was easier to deal with. The death of the enemy was a niggling kind of guilt he could swat away like a fly when it bothered him too much. The death of a fellow soldier, like Sumner, that was something that ghosted the edges of his awareness at all times, but only came out to be recognized when he slept. That was the kind of guilt that reminded John who he was. A human being. It kept his moral code intact. But the death of a friend was something that coiled itself inside of John. Twisting in his gut, wrenching in his heart and eating away at his soul. It yanked at his emotional chain and it taunted John because it was something beyond his control. He hated not being in control.
Shoving back the blankets, John got out of bed and headed for the shower. He moved stiffly, head pounding and ribs aching, but the hot water eased some elasticity back into his muscles and joints. He felt better physically, but emotionally he was still knotted up inside. John cursed himself and fought for balance. His yin and yang were out of whack.
Dressing in jeans and a black tee shirt, John headed out of his room. It was late and he had no place in particular to go, but he didn't want to be alone right now. So he put on his game face and headed for the messhall. He would eat and chat and let everyone see that he was okay. He had to make sure everyone was ready to move on. That was how the cycle worked and John knew it would be up to him to keep the cycle going.
Because the enemy was still out there.
Carson was working on some reports when Dr. Weir appeared in his doorway.
"Got a minute?" she asked him.
"Of course, come sit." Carson pointed to the only other chair in the small room.
Elizabeth sat down and got straight to the point. "When will Major Sheppard be ready to go on full duty?"
Carson frowned as he considered. He had examined Sheppard again just a few hours ago and sent him to his room to rest. "I'd say at least a week. His ribs need to heal."
"Do you think we should send him to Kate?" Elizabeth countered, and her tone was carefully neutral.
"Why?" Carson was surprised by the question and let it show. "I mean...is there a reason why you're asking me that? Has he done something?"
Elizabeth shook her head and a small sigh escaped her. "No...which is kind of my point. Major Sheppard hasn't acted at all the way I expected him too. He's so...he's so calm and detached."
Carson knew what she meant. Sheppard's behavior kept throwing him off too. "Give him some time to deal with what's happened," Carson advised. "You have to remember that the major has had more to deal with than anyone else here. He came to Atlantis expecting to turn things on and off and ended up as the ranking military officer. He wasn't prepared for any of this."
"I know...that's my fault." Regret colored Elizabeth's voice.
"Don't blame yourself, dearie," Carson chided her. "None of us knew what to expect. And Sheppard...he's very adaptable. Lucky for us. He just needs a bit of time. He's a strong man."
Elizabeth nodded. "I know." She rose slowly to her feet, moving almost stiffly.
Carson studied her a moment then asked, "Have you talked to Kate?"
"Me?" Elizabeth looked surprised. "You know I have. You made it rather mandatory. Once every three months or you'll have me relieved of duty."
"I meant since Ford died," Carson specified. "I know you're feeling guilty about your decision."
Elizabeth snorted. "I feel guilty about a lot of things."
Carson knew that Sheppard was one of those things, but all he did was nod. "Well...just something to think about."
"I will," Elizabeth replied. Then she offered a sad smile before exiting the room.
Carson watched her go then turned back to his reports, but he couldn't concentrate. So he got up to do his rounds. Even without major Sheppard as a patient, Carson had enough going on to keep him busy. But it wasn't enough to distract him from his worried thoughts. Dr. Weir and Major Sheppard were the core of Atlantis, and right now that core was shattered. Carson just hoped and prayed it wouldn't break, or God help them all.
Rodney wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. It wasn't as if he and Sheppard were friends, exactly. Rodney knew they were more than teammates and, if he was honest with himself, he had a lot of respect for Sheppard. The man wasn't some dumb soldier. Not only that, but he could trade barbs with Rodney and make it seem almost...fun. And Rodney missed that. Which was largely his fault because he had rather been avoiding the major since Ford had died.
But Teyla had kept pushing him to visit. She told Rodney that Sheppard was pretty much holed up in his room under Doctor's orders to rest, but that he welcomed all company. Although she did add that he seemed reluctant to talk about Ford. Which was actually okay with Rodney. He had talked about that with Dr. Heightmeyer and he could deal with it. But what he was going to say to Sheppard since they weren't on a mission or in the lab or in a briefing, Rodney didn't know. That problem filtered away when the door suddenly slid open and Sheppard was standing there, not quite smiling at him.
"You coming in or are you going to linger in the hallway all night?" John asked.
"Guess I'll come in, if you get out of the way," Rodney countered, irritably.
John simply nodded and stepped back.
Rodney surged forward on his crutches until he reached the bed, then he dropped down onto it, gratefully letting the crutches fall to the floor.
"When do you get off those things?" John asked, as he moved to stand in front of McKay. His foot nudged the fallen crutches.
"Hopefully tomorrow," Rodney replied. "I'm going to burn them."
John almost smiled again. "Been busy?" he prompted. "Haven't seen much of you."
Rodney flushed at that. "Yeah...well...I'm always busy," he replied. "But...I've been avoiding you." Rodney saw no reason to be honest.
"Why?" John was honest right back at him.
"Didn't know what to say to you."
Frown lines marred John's forehead. "Since when? You always have something to say, Rodney."
Rodney shrugged. "This was different."
"Why?" John's eyes narrowed as they locked on Rodney's face.
"Because...it is. You know why!" Rodney did not want to do this. They both knew what he was talking about. Who he was talking about. Why was Sheppard making this so hard?
John closed his eyes for a moment then said softly. "We lost one of our team."
Rodney nodded, even though he knew Sheppard couldn't see it. "Yeah. It changes things and I don't deal well with change."
"Which is why you left Earth for a whole 'nother galaxy," John snorted.
"You know what I mean." Rodney didn't bother to snap back with a witty remark. He wasn't in the mood for it. So he just looked at Sheppard and was rather surprised when the major looked disappointed.
Moving to the chair at his desk, John sat down carefully. "Life goes on, Rodney."
Rodney rolled his eyes, but Sheppard's comment bothered him a bit. The man was acting oddly. Rodney couldn't put a finger on what it was that felt off, exactly. Sheppard just wasn't himself. "But what happens to us?" he asked. "I mean...the rest of us. This changes the team."
"Good question." It was John's turn to shrug. "I haven't discussed it with Weir. Beckett hasn't cleared me yet, so it hasn't come up. I'll let you know what we decide."
"I don't want Bates on the team," Rodney countered.
John was quiet for a moment then he stated, "Bates is a good soldier."
Now Rodney was really starting to worry. Since when did Sheppard go around defending Bates? "He's an arrogant ass," Rodney snapped.
"He does his job, Rodney. He follows protocol and the chain of command." John's eyes were dark now and his voice was barely a whisper. "He does what he does to keep Atlantis safe."
"That's what we're all doing!" Rodney shot back. "We just do it in different ways! Doesn't make me like Bates any better."
John simply nodded.
Rodney was beyond worried now. He didn't like the look on Sheppard's face. He looked, defeated. And that was a look Rodney had never expected to see. The major was not one to give up on anyone, or anything, ever. Reaching down for his crutches, Rodney then struggled to his feet. "You probably need to rest, or something...and I've got stuff to do in my lab," he said, as he made his way to the door. He realized Sheppard hadn't responded and Rodney let it go. He left and had to resist the urge to head to the infirmary to speak with Beckett. Rodney wanted the old Sheppard back. But maybe the major just needed a little time.
After two more days in his room resting and reading and dreaming, John headed for the infirmary. He wanted to be cleared back to duty. Beckett examined him and gave him the okay for light duty, but he was still grounded to Atlantis for at least another week. His ribs still needed to heal and John couldn't hide from Beckett how tender they still were. So he accepted his fate, for now, but he was tired of his room. He needed to be active again. So John stopped back to his room only long enough to grab his gym bag, then he headed for the exercise arena.
Not so surprisingly, Teyla was there. John was glad to see her. She was a good friend and he had appreciated her visits to him. But he knew that she was trying to hard to get him to talk about things. John didn't want to talk. He was more about action. So he grabbed his sticks from his bag and moved to face Teyla. "Ready to kick my butt?" he invited.
"You are not well enough, major," Teyla countered, her voice soft but firm. "Perhaps once Dr. Beckett has cleared you."
"I just came from the infirmary," John replied, as he twirled the sticks through his fingers.
Teyla looked surprised. "And he cleared you?"
John winced at that and knew better than to lie. Teyla would see right through it. "Not exactly, but I'm not confined to my room anymore. And I really need the exercise. I'm too stiff and it makes things worse." He knew she would understand that. Teyla was grounded in her own physicality.
"We shall practice the moves then," she allowed. "I will teach you and it will be like a dance."
"I have two left feet," John warned her and he rather enjoyed the frown that marred her face. So he explained. "I'm not very good at dancing."
Teyla smiled at that and shook her head. "You have a natural grace, major. And a good center for balance. You are just not connected to them consciously. We shall work on that."
John was willing. Anything to be in motion. To keep the memories at bay. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just watch me and do as I do," Teyla replied, as she positioned herself in front of the major. Then she started by moving her arms.
"So far so good," John replied, as he mirrored her movements. His muscles protested a bit at first, feeling stiff from disuse, but Teyla repeated the motions over and over again, like a warm up and John was grateful. Then she changed her movements and added steps. John's ribs had pulled a bit before but now they just about screamed with some of the motions, but he gritted his teeth and focused only on following every move Teyla made.
When she stopped the lesson because he was sweating and shaking, it took a bit of charm on John's part to keep her from calling Beckett. He let her walk him to his room and thanked her for the lesson. The moment he was alone, John picked up the sticks and fell into a fighting stance. He kept in motion until his fingers could no longer hold the sticks.
Then he practically crawled into the shower then into bed. And tonight he slept without dreaming.