Oh, hello, peoples! (pokes Incendofilius) hey, you reviewed! No one tell him what the room is if you guess, he's been bugging me about it since I published! Lol!
I'm glad you liked it, Rojoca, though I was surprised and interested that you found it calming. I would have considering it kind of depressing in a way, but now you mention it I guess I can see how you'd see it like that.
Hi again, fififolle! Don't worry, Zelenka's not dead; he was just reflecting on death. Rodney's little piece is completely unrelated; the only connection between each of these is the order they go in. They were originally intended as introspective tags for season 2 and any forthcoming episodes, but Thedummie2 gave me an idea for Ronan that I just couldn't pass up – so now they really are random! And yeah, you're probably right – not so much comfort. But 'Comfort Zone' was so much easier to say than 'Brief Respite from Hell Zone' (grins)
Anyway! Moving on…
She wandered.
She didn't know exactly where she was going, not like she usually did. It was her job to know where to go, to help her patients find that same path that she saw so clearly. It was her job to find the way, to guide people when they were lost. And yet, in this instance… she was so far out of her league, she didn't even know if what she was doing was making any positive difference or not.
And the worst thing was, she had no one to ask opinions of.
Instead she roamed through the halls of the city, darkened by night-time, the hum of the technology's crystals the only sound to be heard. She liked to think it was to clear her mind with the refreshing, cool sea breeze, but it never ended up being that. She always made her rounds, checking doors, rooms, making sure that those under her care were sleeping well – and marking those that weren't. She knew that Doctor Weir often did something much the same; it was an unspoken occupation they both held, both worried for their children.
When she came to the door she paused and entered silently, like she had with all the others, even though she knew it was empty. Unlike the others, however, when she'd crossed only a step or two over the threshold, just enough to see the slumbering men and women, she strode to the centre of the shadowed floor, turning slowly in place to survey the bare walls.
This room had spurred several difficult sessions for more than one member of the expedition, not so long ago. Well… not the room itself, she reflected, her eyes travelling over the unused bed, the vacant desk. But who had owned the room. She hadn't known him as well as some others, though he had provided her with a nice conversation or two.
She wasn't surprised it was still empty. Most of the rooms once owned by those they had lost had never been claimed by the newest staff as an unconscious mark of respect, an acknowledgement of what the original expedition members had been through. And yet this room still retained something; a calming remnant of the person who'd once lived there. It was comforting, somehow, to know that something as old as Atlantis was still willing to remember its inhabitants, remember people who had striven to pave the way in a new galaxy, a new quest for knowledge.
And perhaps, she mused, that was all she could really do. Even after a year on Atlantis everything was too new for her to hope to apply old concepts to every case. No psychiatrist on Earth had ever had to worry about two strong-willed people trapped in the same body, two completely independent consciousnesses sharing the same space. It had to be difficult on both of them, especially considering their opposing genders; but she felt so helpless, like there was little she could do to assist. She had helped Cadman learn to take control of Rodney's body, only to have her hijack it in the middle of the night; she had wrestled with Rodney to give Cadman some leeway, only for him to take it back. It was spiralling out of control.
How could she show them the way when she didn't know it herself?
But that was the nub of the problem, wasn't it? No one knew the way. If they knew the way then this room probably wouldn't be empty. The unknown was the very thing that made their jobs the adventure it was; the adventure, and the risk. Every one of them had known that, coming there.
Perhaps she had an issue with control herself. She was all about it; she had to teach it to her patients. But out here… some things simply could not be controlled.
Her job was to show people the path, and it was hard when she was in the dark herself. But perhaps… as long as she was in front, and paving the way, then they'd both reach the end safely.
Even if she had to wander a little bit first.
