Swear Not by the Moon…

Major John Sheppard stood on his favorite balcony on the edge of the city of Atlantis. There was not a breath of wind in the air, nor a cloud to obscure the stars. The vast, glassy ocean spread to the horizon in every direction, blending almost imperceptibly into the night sky reflected in it like a mirror. A thin crescent moon, barely even there, hung tentatively above the horizon, as if it was afraid to mount the heavens and shine in its full glory. It had been new last night, invisible to the eye.

It was this moon, once again slowly introducing itself to an alien sky, which captured John's attention and occupied his thoughts. It was an incredibly lonely sight: the only one of its kind, unfamiliar constellations above, cold, dark sea below. The small curve of dim light looked almost like a half-closed eye, staring into the water as if wishing it could jump in and drown.

John could certainly identify with that feeling. He had secrets, skeletons he'd kept hidden in his closet since he'd joined the expedition. It was a cycle, slower and as inevitable as the phases of the moon: he'd get an assignment, hide his story as long as he could, then, when it became too much to bear alone, tell someone he'd come to trust. Then he'd get reassigned, surrounded by new faces, and begin again. And every time, there was more to tell, deeper, darker secrets demanding to see daylight. It was emotionally exhausting.

But there was a problem, this time. His secrets were once again crying for release, and he didn't know whom to tell. He trusted many people with his life on a daily basis, but that was an entirely different matter. It had come to the point where he didn't feel that anyone could truly understand him unless they knew – but he couldn't tell them until they truly understood him. A neat little catch-22… and one that was slowly running him into the ground.

He sighed deeply. He knew how the other inhabitants of Atlantis saw him: sarcastic, irreverent, determined… passionate, trustworthy… but, as cliché as it sounded, there was so much more to him than that. And until he could make them see beneath the surface, see the man he really was, he would carry on alone, even if it killed him.

His closest kin was the tiny sliver of moon over the ocean.