Where we see enough to follow
We can hear when we are hollow
Where we keep the light we're given
We can lose and call it living

Chuck watched Dr. Weir emerge from her office when the incoming wormhole was announced, and most people didn't know her well enough, but he saw her fingers go white as she gripped the railing.

The team came through, and everyone in the control room let out a breath of relief as they saw Sheppard come through looking as healthy as when he left. Most of the Gate technicians had only heard secondhand about the live video transmissions of their ranking military officer being fed on, but every time a hollow-eyed Elizabeth Weir had walked through, a hush had fallen over the room.

As Dr. Beckett ordered everyone to the infirmary for check-ins, Chuck glanced back up to see Dr. Weir leaning on the railing, her shoulders slumped. She caught his eye and nodded slowly, and he gave her a small smile.

Crisis averted again, if just for today.

She took a long breath and headed for the stairs, her face impassive.

Chuck liked Elizabeth Weir. She was a very sharp, very fair woman, and for every late night she expected from her staff, she stayed up working an hour later.

Seeing Dr. Weir's real feelings was a matter of luck. You had to catch her at just the right moment, and you had to see through the cracks in her professional facade.

But Chuck knew what to look for. He'd seen her in enough situations to catch the stray details when she let herself slip. And this was one of the worst things he'd seen her go through, standing there, watching the colonel scream into his gag as he was tortured.

He knew she hated feeling helpless. Every time the Wraith had started feeding, she had lost a little more of herself. In between transmissions, she had become a ghost, stalking through her office like she was haunting it, eyes wide, shoulders tense, hands knotted.

The moment that first message had come through from Teyla - We have found Colonel Sheppard, and he is well - the entire control room staff had snuck a glance at their leader. The sudden hope in her eyes had infused everyone with optimism, some ragged, desperate plea to the universe that in spite of the horror they'd seen, somehow, John Sheppard was going to defy the odds yet again and come home, safe and sound.

But he had.

Chuck was an observant man, but even the most densely oblivious person on the Gate room staff knew just how keenly Dr. Weir watched the Gate when Colonel Sheppard was in danger. That walkway to her office was her perch, her lighthouse, and maybe in the darkest moments, her widow's walk.

Not today, though. And that's what mattered.

Not long afterwards, Colonel Sheppard came striding back into the control room, looking as normal as ever. No one would ever guess he'd been captured, tortured, and finally brought back to health through the good faith of the Wraith who'd been used to take him to the brink of death.

"Hey, Chuck."

"It's good to have you back, Sir."

Sheppard gave him a half-grin. "Thanks. Do you know if Elizabeth is around here?"

"I thought she went with you."

"No, she wasn't in the infirmary." The colonel shoved his hands in his pockets. "I saw her when we came through, but she disappeared after that."

"Oh." Strange. Normally, Dr. Weir checked in with the colonel the moment he got back from anything. "I would assume she's in her office."

"Right. Thanks."

Sheppard took off for the stairs, leaving Chuck to wonder. If she hadn't talked to the colonel yet today, after everything that happened, it was on purpose.

And not that it was any of his business, but Chuck was pretty sure he knew why.

Everyone was relieved Colonel Sheppard was back safely, but there was one person who'd been forced to give him up for dead, and she still hadn't forgiven herself.

One of the Gate techs leaned over to Chuck's station. "I have the post-mission specs for Dr. Weir, but I saw the colonel go up there - do you think I should interrupt? She did say she wanted them as soon as we had them."

"I'll take them." Younger techs were intimidated by Dr. Weir; it wasn't the first time Chuck had volunteered to interrupt her and save someone else the trouble.

Tablet in hand, he shuffled up the stairs towards Dr. Weir's office. She wasn't there, but the door to the conference room was open, and he could just barely see the colonel's sleeve from where he stood.

This was a bad idea, but Chuck couldn't resist the temptation.

So he paused in Dr. Weir's office, leaning forward just enough to listen to the two of them. He caught part of a hushed conversation, though he couldn't quite hear everything.

You did the right thing.

I couldn't -

There was no good choice. You had to do it.

That didn't make it any easier.

I know.

It got quiet after that.

Curiosity won out, and Chuck peered around the corner to see the colonel pulling her into a hug.

The most stoic, strong-willed woman in the city was crying, and as she buried her face in his chest, the colonel wrapped his arms around her tightly.

It was the most intensely private moment he could imagine seeing, and Chuck realized - so many times, he'd wondered how Dr. Weir dealt with the constant pressures of life and death. She was a private person, and a consummate professional, but he knew everyone had a breaking point.

He'd just...never seen her stop hiding it like this.

The revelation was a startling one, as quiet as it was profound, and he watched for a moment. Dr. Weir clung to Sheppard like he was a lifeline, and the colonel ran his hand through her hair, murmuring something into her ear in a low voice, too low to make out.

I shouldn't be watching this.

The realization hit Chuck like a lightning bolt, and he stepped back reflexively.

He looked down at the tablet in his hand. Best to just leave it on her desk. She'd find it soon enough.

Right now, they just needed a moment.