#oberoth

Thank you to the lovely @odakota-rose for beta-ing their little heart out. The feedback was so helpful and made this chapter sing.

John hadn’t moved from the control tower balcony in hours. The ocean glittered beneath the rising sun, waves catching in the light like they were made of glass instead of salt and sea foam. Atlantis gleamed as she always had, unbroken, eternal, indifferent, but something in her color felt wrong.

The wind shifted through the open spire, cool and sharp with sea spray, yet the air felt too heavy.

Behind him, the monitors beeped and cycled through their endless diagnostics, the sound too steady and normal. Every blink of code pulled at something in his gut, hooked the same memory: the sudden close of the field, her eyes framed in it, and then his voice, breaking against what he couldn’t reach. He hadn’t known silence could ring until she was gone.

Footsteps echoed on the metal floor, light, careful, bureaucratic. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Colonel Sheppard.” Woolsey’s voice was measured, crisp as paper. “You were supposed to report to the debrief an hour ago.”

John didn’t look at him. “I’m debriefing myself.” His voice came out rougher than he meant. “Conclusion: it’s still a mess.”

He could feel Woolsey’s reflection in the glass before he heard him move. The man’s outline blurred against the morning light, neat and self-contained, like someone who’d never stood on a deck waiting for a team that didn’t come back. John’s jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was another bureaucrat trying to catalog what couldn’t be fixed.

Woolsey hesitated before taking a step closer. “Colonel—”

“Don’t.”

It wasn't loud, but it cut through the machinery. He didn't need volume; the room carried it for him.

Woolsey froze two paces behind, framed by light bleeding through the glass and the soft whir of consoles.

“I know this is difficult,” Woolsey said finally, tone softening the way people do when they’re about to make it worse. “But the IOA needs clarity. The mission log shows a complete loss of control. We have to assume Dr. Weir is compromised.”

Finally finished Oberoth, my dnd character! He’s a warlock with a very specific patron and is unable to recall his past other than that he was a dancer.