Atlantis had been eerily quiet for the past several days. Granted, the inhabitants of the city had gone about their duties in somewhat of a daze, nearly overwhelmed by the recent events of the past few weeks. Even Dr. Kavanagh’s frequent complaints had been conspicuously absent. Still, it did not seem to be just them. It was as if the city itself had grown completely silent, inert. None of the little problems that often crept up, causing the occasional shout or curse of frustration, had occurred, nor had there been any potentially enormous discoveries been made in whichever section of the city was being explored by the search teams.

It was the quietest Colonel Steven Caldwell had ever seen Atlantis and under other circumstances, he might have been amused by it. The Atlantis Expedition members were some of the most forthright, outspoken people he had ever met and worked with. This change in pace was rather startling.

But it wasn’t amusing. Not by any margin at all. Three of their own were missing and although no one had dared say it explicitly, were probably as good as dead if not already so.

He stood on the observation deck overlooking the Stargate and the embarkation area, his arms crossed over his flight suit. He’d taken to splitting his duty shifts, spending half of them working on the Daedalus and the other half in the control room in Atlantis. Not that he had all that much to do. The repairs to his ship were almost complete, and things were running as smoothly as they ever did within the city.

But despite all that, there was still a spark in the air, as though everyone was holding their collective breaths, waiting for the pendulum to swing one way or the other.

And if they were, he could not really blame them. Sheppard, McKay, and Ronon Dex had all been able to pull off half-assed miracles and return home against all odds before. All the rest of the Expedition could really do was wait and see if they could do it yet again.

It was probably the waiting that was the hardest part, enduring the lull within the chaos that had engulfed their lives for nigh two years now. They were used to it, but that never made it any easier. Not for the Marines who guarded the city, not for the scientists who managed to keep it running as best they could.

And, he added silently, taking a moment to glance over at the door that led out to the balcony off the control room, not for the leaders who struggled to keep up a confident air for the sake of morale.

Caldwell could not claim to have any real great understanding of Doctor Elizabeth Weir, even after nearly a year of working and interacting with her. Especially since most of that year had been – for him – spent under the control of a malicious parasite bent on destruction. He could clearly remember the blatant hostility she had shown him in response to the Goa’uld’s attempts to move into a more powerful position, namely the head of the military contingent. She may not have been able to sense the damn snake, but she could spot threats against her people – her friends – from a mile away.

So, he could see and understand her loyalty to her people and he admired her for that. It rivaled the steadfastness shown by some of the great commanding officers to their own people that Caldwell had worked with over the years. Jack O’Neill, Hank Landry, just to name one or two.

He also knew the recent events had been hard for her. She obviously had not trusted their new allies even from the beginning, but had gone along with it against her own instincts, hoping for the best. And it had come back to bite her in the worst way possible.

The image she had presented to him when he and the Daedalus had returned to Atlantis wasn’t something he’d forget anytime soon. When she had met him and saw him walking towards her alone, what little color she had on her face vanished. Her black and red outfit had only made it stand out more when he reported what had occurred, including their loss of contact with Sheppard in the moments before the Hive ships had retreated from the battlefield.

There were only two possible explanations and they both knew it. Either Sheppard had been dragged along for the ride, unable to get far enough away in time or he was already dead by the time it happened.

He admired her ability to keep everyone’s hopes up in the aftermath, but he couldn’t help but wonder how she herself was holding up. If she wasn’t in her office or in her quarters, usually at Doctor Beckett’s insistence, then she was out on that balcony.

Caldwell himself had not gone out there before, nor had anyone else that he knew of, save Doctor Weir herself and Colonel Sheppard. From what he had recently overheard, the Taranian leader, Chancellor Lycus, had actually joined her on the balcony during the wait for news about the rest of their people back on Taranis, and some of the people in the control room had been rather uptight about the whole thing, as ridiculous as it sounded on the surface.

He supposed that he understood where they were coming from. Some leaders, intentionally or otherwise, often created a larger than life persona around themselves, which the people that served under them came to believe in. And oftentimes, certain things or places that were associated with those leaders became sacrosanct to those people and they did not look kindly on those who – in their eyes – trespassed upon them. That balcony had become a haven for both of them, to find some sort of solace from the burden of command.

There were times when he wondered about Weir and Sheppard. They’d been working together for over a year by the time he had arrived in the midst of the Wraith’s siege on the city and from what he’d read in the reports, they had managed to mesh rather well together. Not to say that they hadn’t had their problems. He knew they’d disagreed on several different matters. But despite that, their working relationship was practically seamless.

It was their personal relationship that made him wonder sometimes. Granted, that they were good friends was no secret to anyone. They’d both proved it plenty of times. And for all that he’d teased them about the kiss they had shared while under the control of Phoebus and Thalan, he his instincts told him that there might be something more, that there was that potential. If there was, however, he didn’t think there would be any proof of it for him or anyone else to see.

Even if Weir had been standing outside on that balcony for close to an hour now and showed no signs of moving from where she stood, staring off to where the ocean and the darkening sky met on the horizon.

She was waiting, just like the rest of them. Waiting and hoping.