And still with a day to go...
Title: Staring into the Darkness
Author: Merlin's Sister
E-mail: michemerlin1@aol.com
Rating: G
Disclaimers: The Stargate: Atlantis characters are owned by the almighty MGM. Just borrowing them for a bit of fun. No point in suing me anyway. I work in the public sector.
Pairing: Sheppard/Heightmeyer
Archive: Just ask.
Summary: Sometimes the only comfort you can find is in the dark.
Feedback: Always welcome.
Author's notes: Written for the Kate Heightmeyer drabbleathon run by the lovely falcon_horus from the prompt ‘better to light a candle than to curse the dark.’ It kind of got away from me and turned into a ficlet…Unbetaed, so bizarre spelling and phrasing completely down to me.



The light from the match flared in front of Kate, the carbon of the burning wood reaching her senses and distracting her from the purpose of the flame. It danced upwards as at the same time it greedily consumed the wood from below. In the same way that it consumed Kate’s attention, the suffocation of her emotions so desperately craved. She put the match to the candle. She watched the flame dance and grow before steadying, its light flickering its welcome comfort.

It wasn’t like she needed to sit in the dark. The power hadn’t failed, and the lights from the other parts of the city gave watch to the night through her office windows. But at the moment the dark felt like the only safety she had, the candle, the one he had given her when they were just friends, the only comfort she could find.

She knew back then that she would have to face this, this long wait for news when he’d gone to do what he’d needed to do, and not returned. Knew it was a risk to any happiness she could find with him, and had wondered if she had the strength to face the loss. Especially a loss that might have been more easily handled as a friend and not as a lover. But, she had told herself, feelings are feelings. She would have felt no less pain for not having had the happiness of acting on them. Right now, as she braced herself for the worse, she was unconvinced by her logic. And was ashamed to admit that part of her wished she had never given in.

The wick had heated the wax, its imbued scents of sandalwood and frankincense finally released. He had bought it for her on a brief trip to Earth having seen a love of candles in her growing through the guidance of Teyla. She found the peace they brought her friend attractive, especially when she found herself struggling under the weight of caring for others. The candle had reminded her of him, the musk of his aftershave echoed in the fragrance. She knew the choice had been completely subconscious, although the gift only came weeks before she had finally plucked up the courage to kiss him. She managed a smile at that memory, remembering the look of surprise mingling with intense happiness on his face. He had haltingly told her how much he’d wanted to tell her how felt, before leaving her in no doubt to his feelings by returning the kiss. Words were saved for more complex matters, like worrying that she would one day be sitting here like this, that one day she would be required to say goodbye for the last time. They had talked about it as if it could happen tomorrow, but Kate had never quite believed that would be true And now, if they truly had said their last goodbye, then it had come too soon, before she had got close to accepting that she may not get a chance to grow old with this man. Before realising how much she had wanted to do just that.

She considered herself a realist, aware of the dangers in this galaxy for them all, especially the military. Yet she had allowed herself to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be true for them. That somehow the aura of luck that seemed to surround him could be extended until the natural end to a life long beyond retirement. She could hear his voice in her head as she considered this, chiding her for giving in to her fears and not holding on to hope. “The moment you think you’re dead, you are,” he had instructed. “You cannot afford to give up, to allow any doubt to creep in to your mind, or you might as well as sign your own death warrant.” She wasn’t sure if he understood how this might not apply to the person left behind.

She shifted slightly, pulling the wrap tighter around her shoulders. She wondered how late it was, but found she couldn’t move herself again to look at her watch. All that would do would be to remind her how long she had been sitting here, her attempt to maintain normality finally collapsing. Work, meals, seeing friends, friends who looked on in concern and in their own way tried to help her hold on to the hope that everything would be alright. Not that this didn’t feel slightly indulgent, these same friends having their own fears for the missing man. Elizabeth especially seemed to find the change in Kate and John’s relationship a signal to change the way she talked to her chief psychologist about situations. It had taken all of Kate’s skills to get the complete picture from the expedition leader, and to reassure her that mutual support was possible. Elizabeth had always found it hard to share her fears for the expedition members, especially those she considered friends as well. Kate couldn’t allow changes in her life to affect Elizabeth’s opportunities for support, both as psychologist and especially not as a friend. Whatever happened, they would have to deal with this together.

Yet at the same time she knew she was now different from everyone else on this base. John, someone who kept himself so apart from others, had acted on his feelings for her. She smiled wryly. Once, of course, that he was certain that she felt the same. But he had allowed himself to let go, and if they both struggled initially with the level of public affection that was appropriate for people in their positions, soon it was the most natural thing for them to be seen as a couple, arms wrapped around each other as they walked down corridors. Never mind her feelings for him, her importance to him marked her out as different, someone that his friends, their friends, would want to protect and support. To honour him if nothing else. Never mind the expectation that romantic love made her more vulnerable to the pain of grief than friendship. Hadn’t she thought just the same?

She rubbed her eyes as she allowed the pain to well up inside her. She just wanted this over. The pain of not knowing, of hoping, was almost unbearable. A death at least was concrete. For a moment she felt an almost overwhelming sense of anxiety at the thought they would never find him, that he would be declared MIA. How would she live with the pain of a grief unlimited by bereavement and fuelled by the hope that one day he would be found?

How could she be wishing him dead?

“Kate?”

Elizabeth’s voice was soft but Kate still started at the sound. She found her voice absent as she turned to face her friend. She searched Elizabeth’s face for some clue of news, but Elizabeth seemed cast in shadows. Kate’s heart sank at the omen of such an image.

“They’ve found him,” Elizabeth stated simply.

Kate managed to get to her feet. “How bad?” she asked, needing to get straight to the point.

Elizabeth stepped forward into the flickering light of the candle, the glow adding a comfort to her words. “Initial reports from Carson indicate that there is nothing long term, but,” she replied, a smile twitching at her lips as she continued, “I think you will have him to yourself for a while.”

“Competing with Carson for the worst patient record?” Kate asked as lightly as she could, her mind already ahead to the psychological support John would need. She took a deep breath. He liked Petersson, and she trusted her deputy. It would be okay. Had to be.

“We can wait at the infirmary if you want,” Elizabeth said.

Kate nodded mutely, dropping her wrap to the chair.

“It’s been hard, the waiting.”

Kate glanced at Elizabeth uncertain whether her friend was making a statement or a gesture of comfort.

“It never seems to get any easier,” Elizabeth continued.

Comfort, Kate decided, as she offered a small smile in response.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Kate replied after a few moments.

“No, I don’t think any of us ever will,” Elizabeth replied, sadness in her tone.

Kate turned to the candle and lifted it up. She breathed in deeply so she could take in the scents that she had found so comforting for a little longer before she blew a sharp breath out to extinguish the flame. She leant forward to place the candle on the floor but stopped. She was going to need this candle again, and the comfort it had just given her should be valued. So instead she turned towards her shelves, carefully put it on the bottom shelf, safe for the dark moments in the future. A reminder of the light that could be found in the darkness which was something she could always hold on to. Whatever happened.