SPOILERS FOR SUNDAY
Okay, I was still curious and I know some of you wanted a reunion, well I think I finally have a decent enough idea for it, just bear with me. I wanted to do a 'it finally hit me' Sheppard tag to Sunday, and this fic just screamed at me, so here you go.
All mistakes are mine- sorry.
John POV, set just after 'Sunday'
The Funeral in Scotland was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. It was one thing to bury men you'd served with, who'd signed up, with full knowledge of the risks involved, a completely different story when you're burying one of your closest friends. A friend who was a civilian doctor who'd saved my ass more times than I would like to admit.
I told Teyla it hadn't hit me yet; I lied. It hit me on Atlantis when I was alone in my room, only hours after I'd seen Carson's charred remains being placed with up most care into a body bag. Rodney was a mess, I'd never seen him look so angry, and let's face it, Rodney's pretty angry most of the time. He feels guilty, I know. I feel the same. I sat there on my bed, took my radio off and just sobbed. It had been so long since I'd had anyone in my life who I cared about, I'd given up on it, that is until I met my friends and family on Atlantis. A long time since I'd properly mourned the loss of someone. Heck, I'd not even been as upset as I was then when my wife left me! Although if I'm honest I'd left the relationship in all the ways that counted long before she walked out the door, and into the arms of another man.
I lied to Teyla because she needed me to be the strong leader; they all did. We were all mourning a dear friend, a man who's stepped up to the plate and done extraordinary things to save the lives of each and every one of us- on more than one occasion. I had my cry and finished the last of the good whisky in a toast to him, and then I was back to being Colonel Sheppard. Stoic leader and the guy helping to carry the coffin through the gate and to Carson's poor ailing mother in the Highlands. My life really sucks sometimes. A friend's funeral, a friend who became family, really does suck beyond the telling of it.
The church service was lovely though, Rodney said a few teary words as did Carson's eldest brother, who told us of Carson's joy for living and passion to help people. I couldn't have agreed more. I met his mother, dear sweet woman; she wore a huge black hat and sobbed into the shoulder of nearly every relative there. Believe you me, that's a hell of a lot of relatives. He must have had at least 12 cousins and their children as well as his own brother and sister and their kids.
The wake was surprisingly fun. I never thought I'd be able to say that I had a good time at a friend's funeral but at Carson's I did. There was more alcohol being consumed than at a St Patrick's Day party in Dublin! It was held in a hotel's function room; me and the rest of the Atlantis crew were all staying over, so we made the most of it and drank like fish.
Rodney was recalling funny if slightly altered stories to one of Carson's many beautiful sisters or sisters in law; it was hard to tell the difference. The whisky making him slur and become quite loud. Lorne stood discussing American vs. British military with some cousin or uncle or whoever. Myself, Ronon and Radek sat at a table, nursing beers, while Carson's mother's eyes swam with tears of sadness and laughter as his brother regaled her with some long forgotten childhood hi-jinks of her lost son.
As people conversed around me I found myself thinking of my own family. A glace sideways told me Ronon and Radek were doing the same. I smiled and remembered the happy childhood with my brother, the games on the park with mom; the burnt Sunday roasts where once in a while mom would try and cook a 'real meal' as she called it. A great woman, a fantastic mother but about the worlds worst cook. By the time I was five, I could cook better than she could, although, beans on toast is hardly difficult. I remembered my mother sneaking into our room when she thought we were asleep, she's sit on the chair by the desk and just watch us. When she went to leave, she'd brush our hair away from our faces and kiss us lightly on the cheek or forehead. I often found myself unable to sleep until I knew she was in the room keeping watch; standing guard over her sleeping babes. I decided then and there to ask for a couple of days leave once we were back stateside. It would be nice to visit the place I once called home and lay a few flowers in remembrance of my own sweet mom. With that decided, I brought my mind back to the present and began a conversation with the teenage boy sat on the next table down; perhaps he liked aeroplanes.