It was funny, in a way, albeit a horribly twisted, skewed kind of way, but funny none the less. After all they had been through, it came to this. People had died on the expedition before, their names had been written and bodies, when they could be recovered, sent back for proper burial. But not now, there would be no burial. There was nothing to bury.

Elizabeth stood in front of them, head held high. She had changed her red for black and her smile for a somber look. Her spark had dimmed, everyone could see it as she spoke, her lips forming words that were more heartfelt than official. Every so often, her eyes would trail off to audience members before going back to the simply flame that replaced a coffin.

"No."

John stared at Elizabeth, his face showing confusion pure and simple. It was three days after he came out of the infirmary. Three days of pacing and walking away from the door. Finally he had come to see her and asked in a single breath why she had followed him. She had looked at him in a way that John had gotten ready for her to throw her arms around him. But the look had passed, replaced by her 'I have 2 PhD's and am in Command of Atlantis' look, the one she gave Cadwell every time he spoke and the dreaded word had come from her lips.

"What do you mean no?" he demanded.

"You heard me," she said her head held high, "I will not go into the reasons for my actions. You and I both know them, but I refuse to fall prey to this again."

"What are you talking about!" he all but screamed, his 'lack of emotional control' as Carson called it, getting a hold of him. She winced and looked away before standing up so abruptly her chair spun out from behind her.

"Ronon is dead!" she yelled slamming her hands down on the desk, "because of my lack of judgment, because I went into that Hive to save you!" she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, "it was an emotional decision and not a mistake I will make again," she opened her eyes, "so from this point on, I am Dr. Weir, you are Colonel Sheppard and that is the end of it."

"Don't do this," his voice was thick, "please don't do this."

"I have to," she said, her eyes bright, "my emotional attachment to you is affecting my ability to command this operation."

They both knew it to be true, though John thought it was helping her command this operation, turning Atlantis from a place to a home. Elizabeth did not see it that way, all she saw was Teyla's face when Carson informed them that the planet was gone and Ronon was not in Atlantis. Using that as her resolve, she settled her shoulders and looked at him, shoving the burning in her throat aside as she had done a hundred times before, and she knew she would do a hundred times more.

"Is that clear Colonel Sheppard?" she asked, her voices steady.

John felt his heart break when she said those words. Taking a deep breath, he forcefully reigned in his emotions, stopping the tirade of memories. When he looked at her, his eyes were full of pain but his voice was steady when he shattered her heart.

"Of course, Dr. Weir," he replied with military ease. He stood there, until Elizabeth realized something with a sickening realization.

"Dismissed Colonel Sheppard," she said. He nodded and left. Elizabeth turned and grabbed her chair, sliding it back in place before sitting down and bringing up work on her tablet PC, making sure she was sufficiently occupied so her mind would not wander.

Carson stared hard at the flame, holding back his tears. Rodney and Radek were on one side, eyes red from crying. The doctor had always cried at funerals for colleagues, at a life lost. But he now to be at the funeral of a friend, it took everything to appear strong. He looked over and his eyes fell on Teyla. Before he could stop himself, tears began to fall down his cheeks. Then, he didn't see how it happened but she was crying as well, the two hugging each other.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry."

"No," she sobbed, "it's not your fault."

Elizabeth had stepped down and someone else had taken the lead. She stood in front of the room, with John a few seats down as a member of the Command, not as a friend. They could never be friends, not anymore. Ignoring the choking feeling in her throat, she clenched her hands in front of her in a miserable attempt at stopping them from shaking.

"Ronon Dex came her a Satedan and left here an Atlantian, same as us. He taught us that great tragedy is not the finally, but rather the end of the first act. If one thing can be taken from his death, it is the knowledge that trust is a precious and rare commodity and without it there is nothing worth fighting for."

Slowly people left, until Rodney, Radek, Carson, Teyla, John and her were the only ones left. Carson held an arm around Teyla tightly, tears still falling down his face. She was leaning on him and Elizabeth noticed how pale she looked, her normal vibrancy had vanished, leaving only a broken woman in it's wake. Carson seemed to know what Elizabeth was thinking because he whispered something to Teyla who weakly nodded her consent.

"It is my deepest hope that we become stronger from this. Though it will take time and tears, I hope we learn to breath again, to laugh and smile. Not as we once did, time does not allow us that luxury, but as changed people. I believe that is what Ronon would have wanted us to do, to move on. Like he had to, and like him we will take this and become stronger. We will learn to breath again, if not for ourselves than for his memory."

"I'm going to give her a sedative, something to help her sleep," he mouthed, leading her out of the room. Radek and Rodney nodded to them and left next, their heads bowed. Elizabeth saw Rodney tuck a black object in the pocket of his vest, shaking his head sadly. They left John and Elizabeth, staring at the flame, all that was left to commemorate their friend.

"It wasn't your fault," John said thickly, "he knew what he was doing Dr. Weir, all soldiers do."

She clasped a hand over her mouth, letting it fall to her side quickly and nodded with her eyes tightly shut as pain sliced through her. She heard his footsteps trailing down the corridor before they disappeared completely, the door closing softly in his wake. The hand returned to her mouth, in time to stifle the choked sob that was pulled from her lips, her other arm wrapped around her middle as she fell to the hard, cold ground.

"In the end, war's casualties are not those who die, but those who are left behind to mourn."

The End