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sherydenNo one have a stroke, but I've finished a fic! As in done.
Title: Fragmented Beginnings
Author:sheryden
Rating: PG-13 (for violence)
Summary: Lorne and his team are hit by an ambush.
Disclaimer: Sadly, their not mine.
Pairing: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne (pre-slash)
Author's Notes: This is friendship/pre-slash. It's a prequel of sorts to a Ronon/Evan slash fic I'm writing. The method behind my madness here is that I'm writing for a pairing who've had little canon interaction. Soooo, I'm trying to establish some kind of connection between them before I charge in and slash them. *nods* It can be a stand-alone though.
Response to the word prompt challenge onronon_lorne
Fragmented Beginnings
Hero
Major Evan Lorne sat in the cafeteria surrounded by Sheppard, McKay, Teyla, and Ronon. Theirs was the only occupied table, because except for the few poor schmucks on the graveyard shift, everyone in their right mind was well into good night’s sleep. As for Lorne, his body ached from the strain of diving out of the way of Wraith weapons fire and from helping Ronon drag a theatrical Rodney halfway to the gate. There was no way he was going to get comfortable enough to sleep tonight unless he made a trip to the infirmary.
With a groan, Sheppard leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. He twisted his body awkwardly, made a face, and let out a long breath.
“Back still bothering you, sir?” Lorne asked with a smile. Part of him was inwardly pleased that he wasn’t the only one in this group who was in pain tonight.
“That would be a resounding yes,” Sheppard said, kneading the muscles in his right shoulder.
Rodney scowled at Sheppard. “You should complain.”
“Wasn’t my fault, Rodney.”
“All I’m saying is—”
“And all I’m saying is it wasn’t my fault.”
Ronon grinned at the bickering Rodney and Sheppard, and then turned to Lorne. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, Lorne.”
Teyla nodded and smiled broadly. “Yes,” she said. “Your arrival was extremely well-timed, Major.”
“I don’t know,” Sheppard said. “I would’ve been glad to see him before that Wraith tossed me across the room.”
“At least Rodney was there to break your fall, sir,” Lorne deadpanned. He hadn’t been there to see it, but Rodney had complained about his collision with Sheppard the whole jumper ride home.
“Yes, yes,” Rodney spit. “It’s very funny. Ha ha.”
“Bowling with McKay,” Sheppard said, looking rather pleased at his own cleverness.
Rodney glared at him. “You’re not exactly light, you know.”
“Neither are you, Rodney,” Lorne said. “I have the muscle aches to prove it.” Before Rodney had a chance to launch into defense of his physique, Lorne stood up. “Well, I think I should head to bed. I have an early mission tomorrow.” He nodded at Sheppard. “Sir.”
“I could assign another team,” Sheppard said. “You look pretty wiped out.”
“Nah, it’s all right, sir,” Lorne said. “We’ve spent months getting the Acruans to trust us. They’re a little jumpy, and I don’t think they’d be too happy if we sent a different team.” Keeping the Acruans happy was paramount right now, because they had a naturally growing plant in their village that most of the scientists on Atlantis agreed could be a viable source of energy for the city.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sheppard said, rubbing his eyes. “Well, after this, your team’s going to have some down time.”
“‘Til the next time I have to bail your sorry asses out of a hostile situation?”
Sheppard feigned indignation. “Well, we’ll try to control ourselves until you’ve had some R & R.”
“That’s thoughtful, sir. Night.”
“Sleep well, Major,” Teyla said.
Not likely, Lorne thought to himself, wondering if he should resort to an infirmary run. If he did that, though, the doc might try to ground him, and like he had told Sheppard, his team had a rapport with the Acruans. He couldn’t risk losing that because of a few sore muscles.
As he rounded the doorway into the hall, Lorne heard footsteps behind him. “Hey, Lorne,” Ronon called after him. “Wait up. I’m heading to bed, too.”
“Need your beauty sleep, do you?” Lorne said with a smile.
Ronon shot him a mock glare. “That was a good save today,” he said, clapping a hand on Lorne’s shoulder. “I mean it.”
Lorne was genuinely touched. Ronon didn’t hand complements out lightly, so when you were on the receiving end of one, it felt damn good. “Hey, no problem,” Lorne said. “You guys would do the same for me.”
Ronon nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “You need us, we’ll be there.”
They stood there in companionable silence until Lorne said, “I’m around this corner. I’d better get to bed.”
“Yeah. Have a good night.” Ronon patted Lorne on the shoulder and wandered down the hall.
After Ronon disappeared down the hall, Lorne rounded the corner to his quarters. A lot of people on the Atlantis expedition found Ronon to be a little intimidating, but Lorne had been on Atlantis long enough to get to know him, and he’d developed a respect and a fondness for the guy. For a while now, they’d been sparring once a week, and their teams went on missions together off and on. It wasn’t uncommon for them both to wind up at Sheppard’s for a post-mission drink. From where Lorne was standing, Ronon was a damn nice guy and a fine soldier, and it was good to know a guy like that had his back.
Villain
It had all gone wrong about a half an hour after they had climbed out of the jumper. Lorne had sensed something off about the villagers, but before he’d had a chance to act on his instincts and scrap the mission, weapons fire had erupted, and everything had gone gray and hazy.
Lorne was currently stomach down in a patch of mud, watching a pair of hostiles in unfamiliar uniforms poking at the body of one of his men. Given the fallen man’s build, he was pretty sure it was Watkins, but it could have been Kemp. They were nearly the same size. Lorne couldn’t be sure, because his vision was being obscured by some kind of thorn-covered bush. Jameson and whichever man wasn’t lying dead a few feet away were nowhere to be seen. For all Lorne knew, he was the only one of his team still breathing.
Blinking a bead of sweat out of his eyes, Lorne bit his lip. The thought of having to mourn his entire team caused acid to swell in his stomach, and he could feel a brief but sharp pinch of panic creep into his brain. Summoning his strength, Lorne chided himself internally. He needed to focus right now. He could feel sorry for himself later.
He tried to scoot a little to the left so he could get off a shot at his attackers, but as he inched closer to open space, he saw a Jameson, a fresh-faced lieutenant who'd only been with his team for about a month. The young man was shoved hard onto the ground by a uniformed figure and without warning, was executed on the spot.
Lorne felt shock and rage surge forward, and he stood recklessly up to take aim.
He managed to get a shot off but only wounded Jameson’s killer in the leg before a swarm of uniforms came pouring toward the gunfire. Lorne’s knee-jerk reaction to Jameson’s murder cost him dearly, because one of the uniformed men immediately turned toward him and shot him twice.
As he dropped to his knees, Lorne saw a villager he recognized as Jaden slink out of a nearby hut. Jaden had always been a nice enough guy. In fact, he was the one usually charged by the village elders with the job of showing Lorne’s team around the area and seeing to their needs. He was as close to a friend as the team had in the Acruan village. As one of the hostiles came over and kicked his gun away, Lorne watched Jaden chat with one of the armed men.
“Thank you for your assistance,” the man said to Jaden.
“When do I get paid?” Jaden asked, folding his arms across his chest. “You said there was money involved if I summoned you the next time the visitors arrived.”
The officer motioned to someone nearby. “See that our friend gets his money.”
Lorne winced as the reality of Jaden’s betrayal began to sink in. He had always been a good judge of character, but he hadn’t seen this coming. As he watched Jaden walk off with a uniformed man, Lorne told himself that someday, he was going to have a private conversation with the little traitor.
Rude Awakening
Ronon fingered the barrel of his gun and watched a burly Marine head toward the cockpit of the puddle jumper. Turning to Teyla, Ronon said, “You know, I was telling Lorne we'd come to save his ass if he ever needed us. Didn't think he'd take us up on it this soon."
"I hope they're all right," Teyla said quietly. She was a good as any warrior Ronon had ever known, but she was a born nurturer, and she worried over the people on Atlantis the same as she would over her own people. Ronon loved that about her.
"So why do they call them Acruans?” Rodney asked, as he narrowly missed running into two Marines who were standing near the entrance of the jumper. “The village is called Acra. Shouldn’t they be Acralites or something?”
Sheppard smiled apologetically at the two Marines and raised an eyebrow. “Good question, Rodney. Make sure you bring it up at the debriefing. We’ll get it sorted out.” When Rodney looked away to fuss with his jacket, Sheppard shot Ronon a wink and a grin and headed toward the cockpit.
Lorne’s team was an hour overdue, and they couldn’t be reached by radio. Ronon remembered that the night before, the Major had mentioned how jumpy the Acruans were, and as far as Ronon was concerned, chronically jumpy people were usually up to something. He chewed himself out for not asking Lorne exactly how jumpy these people were when he’d had the chance.
A while back, Ronon and the rest of Atlantis thought Lorne and his team had been burned to death in a fire. As it had turned out, their deaths had been faked so the Genii could capture them without alerting anyone. Back then, Ronon had considered Lorne a casual friend and ally, and his apparent death had pissed him off more than a little. Since that time though, Ronon had worked with, drank with, and sparred with Lorne enough to form a stronger connection with him. To Ronon, Lorne was a part of the fabric of Atlantis. He was a friend who was becoming a close friend, and he was a comrade-in-arms.
“I should have gone with them,” Ronon said to no one in particular.
Sheppard emerged from the cockpit. “And I probably should have sent a backup team with them, no matter how jumpy the Acruans are around new people.” He plunked down in a chair across from Ronon. “But for all we know, it’s nothing. They’re probably just having mechanical trouble and couldn’t radio in.”
“Who’s flying the jumper?” Rodney asked, glancing toward the cockpit.
“Higgins.”
“A Marine? Does he know what he’s doing?”
“No,” Sheppard said. “I thought it would be fun to take our chances with a brand new pilot. I blindfolded him, too.”
Ronon let out a breath. “I just have a bad feeling.”
"They're probably fine," Sheppard said, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. “You know all the crap that can keep a team from checking in. Weird weather, technological interference, overly festive villagers. Could be anything.”
“Whatever,” Ronon said. “Could be they were attacked by hostiles, too.” His warrior instincts were usually pretty good and right now, they were telling him to prepare for a fight.
“And if they were attacked,” Sheppard said. “We’ll get them out.”
A hush settled over the jumper, and they all readied their gear for whatever they were about to come up against. A few minutes later, their cloaked jumper approached the village, and it became drastically clear how right Ronon’s warrior instincts had been.
Boom
Everything was a blur.
Lorne blinked his eyes several times, trying to avoid the growing pain in his gut. Every few seconds, explosions jarred the area around him, and the most recent one jolted him forward and sent a rush of pain coursing through his body. He narrowed his eyes toward the explosions and wondered if the village was being invaded.
One of his attackers gestured to two other men. “Move him inside with the other one.”
A few seconds later, Lorne felt himself being dragged along the ground by his arms into one of the village’s primitive structures. When the men had gotten him where they wanted him, they released his arms and backed out of the hut. Lorne’s head hit the ground with a thud.
A familiar voice a few feet away said, “Major?”
“Kemp?” Lorne said, as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. His body hurt like crazy, but he was so relieved to find out he wasn’t the sole survivor that he bit his lip and rode out the pain. He could see Kemp half-lying and half-sitting a few feet away. Visibility inside the hut was low, but Lorne could tell that Kemp was bleeding from the shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” Kemp answered. “I think Watkins is dead.”
Lorne nodded. “So is Jameson.”
“What’s happening out there? Is it our guys?”
“What?”
“The explosions. Sounds like drones.”
He shook his head as if to rearrange the contents of his skull. He realized he must have been hurt worse than he thought, because it had never occurred to him that the blasts could be the cavalry.
“You still with me, Major? Major. Stay with me.”
“Yeah, Kemp,” Lorne murmured. “Just a little dizzy. Gonna close my eyes for a sec.”
“Major!”
* * *
“Major.”
Lorne felt like he was floating. He titled his head to one side and saw that the ground was a lot farther away than it had been the last time he’d looked. “Wha’s happening?”
“Major,” a woman’s voice said. “We are putting you on the jumper, and we are going to take you back to Atlantis. It will be all right.”
“I’ll take him from here, Teyla. Go help Sheppard with Kemp.”
Lorne blinked. The voice was familiar, so he tried to lift himself up to get a better look. “Ronon?”
Warm hands gripped his shoulder and pushed him back. “Yeah, it’s me. Lie still. You took a couple bullets.”
“Hmm?” Lorne move his hand over his chest, trying to feel his injuries.
Ronon grabbed his hand. “Stop that. You’re gonna make it worse.”
“You’re the cavalry,” Lorne muttered. He reached out and gripped Ronon’s arm hard, wanting to feel something solid.
“Told you we’d save your ass if you needed us,” Ronon said. “Just sit tight, buddy. We’ll have you home in no time.”
Sleep
For a week, Ronon, Sheppard, Teyla, McKay, and a couple of Atlantis’s scientists took turns watching over Lorne. Bedside vigils were nothing new for Ronon, though they were usually held for McKay or Sheppard. Ronon couldn’t remember a single time Lorne had been injured badly enough to warrant more than a night or two in the infirmary.
When Ronon and the rest of his team had first found Lorne and Kemp, Lorne had been unconscious and bloody. It had been a sobering moment for everyone, because they’d already found two bodies outside.
Off and on for the past couple of days, Lorne had briefly regained consciousness. Ronon figured he’d be more lucid if Keller would cut back on the meds, but painkillers were probably the only thing letting Lorne get any sleep right now.
Ronon leaned back in his seat by Lorne’s bed and thumbed through a sketch pad full of pencil drawings. Though Ronon remembered hearing something about the Major painting, he had no idea the guy had so much talent. Ronon had never had that kind of talent himself. Not art or music or any of the finer things. His only talent was war, and he’d crafted it and perfected it over the years.
After a while, Lorne’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times. “Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Hey,” Ronon said. He held up the sketch pad. “What’s this?”
Lorne smiled. “Sketch pad. I like to draw.”
Grinning, Ronon bopped him on the head with the pad. “I know what a sketch pad is, Lorne. Sateda had command of fire, too.”
“Sorry,” Lorne said, a grin creeping into his features. “The Colonel brought it from my quarters yesterday. Wanted to give me something to do.”
Ronon flipped the book to a starkly beautiful picture of himself. “I like this one.”
Lorne licked his lips. “Yeah. Sorry. I should have asked.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Ronon asked. “I’m flattered anyone would bother to draw a picture of me. And like I said, it’s good.”
“Thanks.” Lorne winced as he tried to shift his body into a more comfortable position.
“So I guess it’ll be a while before we get to spar again,” Ronon said.
“Oh, maybe a couple of days,” Lorne deadpanned. “How’s Kemp?”
“Keller released him. He was here this morning, checking in on you.”
“I should write letters to Jameson’s and Watkins’s families.”
“Sheppard’s doing it. You rest. So, who’s this?” Ronon asked, holding up the last picture in the sketch pad. “I don’t recognize him.”
Lorne jaw tensed a bit. “I just did that one. His name’s Jaden. He’s an Acruan villager.”
Ronon leaned a little closer to the bed. “Did he die in the attack?”
“I doubt it,” Lorne said. His voice sounded hollow, and Ronon wondered if he should push for more information. When Lorne started rubbing his eyes, though, Ronon figured he could question him about Jaden another time.
“So,” he said, decided placing the pad onto the bedside table. “You need to sleep?”
“No. I doze off sometimes,” Lorne said. “It’s the meds. Ronon?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for staying with me. I like having you here.”
“I like being here.”
“And thanks for having my back.”
Ronon reached forward and lightly touched Lorne’s forearm. “Anytime. You’ve had mine more times than I can count. Why don’t you close your eyes? I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Title: Fragmented Beginnings
Author:
sherydenRating: PG-13 (for violence)
Summary: Lorne and his team are hit by an ambush.
Disclaimer: Sadly, their not mine.
Pairing: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne (pre-slash)
Author's Notes: This is friendship/pre-slash. It's a prequel of sorts to a Ronon/Evan slash fic I'm writing. The method behind my madness here is that I'm writing for a pairing who've had little canon interaction. Soooo, I'm trying to establish some kind of connection between them before I charge in and slash them. *nods* It can be a stand-alone though.
Response to the word prompt challenge on
ronon_lorneMajor Evan Lorne sat in the cafeteria surrounded by Sheppard, McKay, Teyla, and Ronon. Theirs was the only occupied table, because except for the few poor schmucks on the graveyard shift, everyone in their right mind was well into good night’s sleep. As for Lorne, his body ached from the strain of diving out of the way of Wraith weapons fire and from helping Ronon drag a theatrical Rodney halfway to the gate. There was no way he was going to get comfortable enough to sleep tonight unless he made a trip to the infirmary.
With a groan, Sheppard leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. He twisted his body awkwardly, made a face, and let out a long breath.
“Back still bothering you, sir?” Lorne asked with a smile. Part of him was inwardly pleased that he wasn’t the only one in this group who was in pain tonight.
“That would be a resounding yes,” Sheppard said, kneading the muscles in his right shoulder.
Rodney scowled at Sheppard. “You should complain.”
“Wasn’t my fault, Rodney.”
“All I’m saying is—”
“And all I’m saying is it wasn’t my fault.”
Ronon grinned at the bickering Rodney and Sheppard, and then turned to Lorne. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, Lorne.”
Teyla nodded and smiled broadly. “Yes,” she said. “Your arrival was extremely well-timed, Major.”
“I don’t know,” Sheppard said. “I would’ve been glad to see him before that Wraith tossed me across the room.”
“At least Rodney was there to break your fall, sir,” Lorne deadpanned. He hadn’t been there to see it, but Rodney had complained about his collision with Sheppard the whole jumper ride home.
“Yes, yes,” Rodney spit. “It’s very funny. Ha ha.”
“Bowling with McKay,” Sheppard said, looking rather pleased at his own cleverness.
Rodney glared at him. “You’re not exactly light, you know.”
“Neither are you, Rodney,” Lorne said. “I have the muscle aches to prove it.” Before Rodney had a chance to launch into defense of his physique, Lorne stood up. “Well, I think I should head to bed. I have an early mission tomorrow.” He nodded at Sheppard. “Sir.”
“I could assign another team,” Sheppard said. “You look pretty wiped out.”
“Nah, it’s all right, sir,” Lorne said. “We’ve spent months getting the Acruans to trust us. They’re a little jumpy, and I don’t think they’d be too happy if we sent a different team.” Keeping the Acruans happy was paramount right now, because they had a naturally growing plant in their village that most of the scientists on Atlantis agreed could be a viable source of energy for the city.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sheppard said, rubbing his eyes. “Well, after this, your team’s going to have some down time.”
“‘Til the next time I have to bail your sorry asses out of a hostile situation?”
Sheppard feigned indignation. “Well, we’ll try to control ourselves until you’ve had some R & R.”
“That’s thoughtful, sir. Night.”
“Sleep well, Major,” Teyla said.
Not likely, Lorne thought to himself, wondering if he should resort to an infirmary run. If he did that, though, the doc might try to ground him, and like he had told Sheppard, his team had a rapport with the Acruans. He couldn’t risk losing that because of a few sore muscles.
As he rounded the doorway into the hall, Lorne heard footsteps behind him. “Hey, Lorne,” Ronon called after him. “Wait up. I’m heading to bed, too.”
“Need your beauty sleep, do you?” Lorne said with a smile.
Ronon shot him a mock glare. “That was a good save today,” he said, clapping a hand on Lorne’s shoulder. “I mean it.”
Lorne was genuinely touched. Ronon didn’t hand complements out lightly, so when you were on the receiving end of one, it felt damn good. “Hey, no problem,” Lorne said. “You guys would do the same for me.”
Ronon nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “You need us, we’ll be there.”
They stood there in companionable silence until Lorne said, “I’m around this corner. I’d better get to bed.”
“Yeah. Have a good night.” Ronon patted Lorne on the shoulder and wandered down the hall.
After Ronon disappeared down the hall, Lorne rounded the corner to his quarters. A lot of people on the Atlantis expedition found Ronon to be a little intimidating, but Lorne had been on Atlantis long enough to get to know him, and he’d developed a respect and a fondness for the guy. For a while now, they’d been sparring once a week, and their teams went on missions together off and on. It wasn’t uncommon for them both to wind up at Sheppard’s for a post-mission drink. From where Lorne was standing, Ronon was a damn nice guy and a fine soldier, and it was good to know a guy like that had his back.
It had all gone wrong about a half an hour after they had climbed out of the jumper. Lorne had sensed something off about the villagers, but before he’d had a chance to act on his instincts and scrap the mission, weapons fire had erupted, and everything had gone gray and hazy.
Lorne was currently stomach down in a patch of mud, watching a pair of hostiles in unfamiliar uniforms poking at the body of one of his men. Given the fallen man’s build, he was pretty sure it was Watkins, but it could have been Kemp. They were nearly the same size. Lorne couldn’t be sure, because his vision was being obscured by some kind of thorn-covered bush. Jameson and whichever man wasn’t lying dead a few feet away were nowhere to be seen. For all Lorne knew, he was the only one of his team still breathing.
Blinking a bead of sweat out of his eyes, Lorne bit his lip. The thought of having to mourn his entire team caused acid to swell in his stomach, and he could feel a brief but sharp pinch of panic creep into his brain. Summoning his strength, Lorne chided himself internally. He needed to focus right now. He could feel sorry for himself later.
He tried to scoot a little to the left so he could get off a shot at his attackers, but as he inched closer to open space, he saw a Jameson, a fresh-faced lieutenant who'd only been with his team for about a month. The young man was shoved hard onto the ground by a uniformed figure and without warning, was executed on the spot.
Lorne felt shock and rage surge forward, and he stood recklessly up to take aim.
He managed to get a shot off but only wounded Jameson’s killer in the leg before a swarm of uniforms came pouring toward the gunfire. Lorne’s knee-jerk reaction to Jameson’s murder cost him dearly, because one of the uniformed men immediately turned toward him and shot him twice.
As he dropped to his knees, Lorne saw a villager he recognized as Jaden slink out of a nearby hut. Jaden had always been a nice enough guy. In fact, he was the one usually charged by the village elders with the job of showing Lorne’s team around the area and seeing to their needs. He was as close to a friend as the team had in the Acruan village. As one of the hostiles came over and kicked his gun away, Lorne watched Jaden chat with one of the armed men.
“Thank you for your assistance,” the man said to Jaden.
“When do I get paid?” Jaden asked, folding his arms across his chest. “You said there was money involved if I summoned you the next time the visitors arrived.”
The officer motioned to someone nearby. “See that our friend gets his money.”
Lorne winced as the reality of Jaden’s betrayal began to sink in. He had always been a good judge of character, but he hadn’t seen this coming. As he watched Jaden walk off with a uniformed man, Lorne told himself that someday, he was going to have a private conversation with the little traitor.
Ronon fingered the barrel of his gun and watched a burly Marine head toward the cockpit of the puddle jumper. Turning to Teyla, Ronon said, “You know, I was telling Lorne we'd come to save his ass if he ever needed us. Didn't think he'd take us up on it this soon."
"I hope they're all right," Teyla said quietly. She was a good as any warrior Ronon had ever known, but she was a born nurturer, and she worried over the people on Atlantis the same as she would over her own people. Ronon loved that about her.
"So why do they call them Acruans?” Rodney asked, as he narrowly missed running into two Marines who were standing near the entrance of the jumper. “The village is called Acra. Shouldn’t they be Acralites or something?”
Sheppard smiled apologetically at the two Marines and raised an eyebrow. “Good question, Rodney. Make sure you bring it up at the debriefing. We’ll get it sorted out.” When Rodney looked away to fuss with his jacket, Sheppard shot Ronon a wink and a grin and headed toward the cockpit.
Lorne’s team was an hour overdue, and they couldn’t be reached by radio. Ronon remembered that the night before, the Major had mentioned how jumpy the Acruans were, and as far as Ronon was concerned, chronically jumpy people were usually up to something. He chewed himself out for not asking Lorne exactly how jumpy these people were when he’d had the chance.
A while back, Ronon and the rest of Atlantis thought Lorne and his team had been burned to death in a fire. As it had turned out, their deaths had been faked so the Genii could capture them without alerting anyone. Back then, Ronon had considered Lorne a casual friend and ally, and his apparent death had pissed him off more than a little. Since that time though, Ronon had worked with, drank with, and sparred with Lorne enough to form a stronger connection with him. To Ronon, Lorne was a part of the fabric of Atlantis. He was a friend who was becoming a close friend, and he was a comrade-in-arms.
“I should have gone with them,” Ronon said to no one in particular.
Sheppard emerged from the cockpit. “And I probably should have sent a backup team with them, no matter how jumpy the Acruans are around new people.” He plunked down in a chair across from Ronon. “But for all we know, it’s nothing. They’re probably just having mechanical trouble and couldn’t radio in.”
“Who’s flying the jumper?” Rodney asked, glancing toward the cockpit.
“Higgins.”
“A Marine? Does he know what he’s doing?”
“No,” Sheppard said. “I thought it would be fun to take our chances with a brand new pilot. I blindfolded him, too.”
Ronon let out a breath. “I just have a bad feeling.”
"They're probably fine," Sheppard said, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. “You know all the crap that can keep a team from checking in. Weird weather, technological interference, overly festive villagers. Could be anything.”
“Whatever,” Ronon said. “Could be they were attacked by hostiles, too.” His warrior instincts were usually pretty good and right now, they were telling him to prepare for a fight.
“And if they were attacked,” Sheppard said. “We’ll get them out.”
A hush settled over the jumper, and they all readied their gear for whatever they were about to come up against. A few minutes later, their cloaked jumper approached the village, and it became drastically clear how right Ronon’s warrior instincts had been.
Everything was a blur.
Lorne blinked his eyes several times, trying to avoid the growing pain in his gut. Every few seconds, explosions jarred the area around him, and the most recent one jolted him forward and sent a rush of pain coursing through his body. He narrowed his eyes toward the explosions and wondered if the village was being invaded.
One of his attackers gestured to two other men. “Move him inside with the other one.”
A few seconds later, Lorne felt himself being dragged along the ground by his arms into one of the village’s primitive structures. When the men had gotten him where they wanted him, they released his arms and backed out of the hut. Lorne’s head hit the ground with a thud.
A familiar voice a few feet away said, “Major?”
“Kemp?” Lorne said, as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. His body hurt like crazy, but he was so relieved to find out he wasn’t the sole survivor that he bit his lip and rode out the pain. He could see Kemp half-lying and half-sitting a few feet away. Visibility inside the hut was low, but Lorne could tell that Kemp was bleeding from the shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” Kemp answered. “I think Watkins is dead.”
Lorne nodded. “So is Jameson.”
“What’s happening out there? Is it our guys?”
“What?”
“The explosions. Sounds like drones.”
He shook his head as if to rearrange the contents of his skull. He realized he must have been hurt worse than he thought, because it had never occurred to him that the blasts could be the cavalry.
“You still with me, Major? Major. Stay with me.”
“Yeah, Kemp,” Lorne murmured. “Just a little dizzy. Gonna close my eyes for a sec.”
“Major!”
* * *
“Major.”
Lorne felt like he was floating. He titled his head to one side and saw that the ground was a lot farther away than it had been the last time he’d looked. “Wha’s happening?”
“Major,” a woman’s voice said. “We are putting you on the jumper, and we are going to take you back to Atlantis. It will be all right.”
“I’ll take him from here, Teyla. Go help Sheppard with Kemp.”
Lorne blinked. The voice was familiar, so he tried to lift himself up to get a better look. “Ronon?”
Warm hands gripped his shoulder and pushed him back. “Yeah, it’s me. Lie still. You took a couple bullets.”
“Hmm?” Lorne move his hand over his chest, trying to feel his injuries.
Ronon grabbed his hand. “Stop that. You’re gonna make it worse.”
“You’re the cavalry,” Lorne muttered. He reached out and gripped Ronon’s arm hard, wanting to feel something solid.
“Told you we’d save your ass if you needed us,” Ronon said. “Just sit tight, buddy. We’ll have you home in no time.”
For a week, Ronon, Sheppard, Teyla, McKay, and a couple of Atlantis’s scientists took turns watching over Lorne. Bedside vigils were nothing new for Ronon, though they were usually held for McKay or Sheppard. Ronon couldn’t remember a single time Lorne had been injured badly enough to warrant more than a night or two in the infirmary.
When Ronon and the rest of his team had first found Lorne and Kemp, Lorne had been unconscious and bloody. It had been a sobering moment for everyone, because they’d already found two bodies outside.
Off and on for the past couple of days, Lorne had briefly regained consciousness. Ronon figured he’d be more lucid if Keller would cut back on the meds, but painkillers were probably the only thing letting Lorne get any sleep right now.
Ronon leaned back in his seat by Lorne’s bed and thumbed through a sketch pad full of pencil drawings. Though Ronon remembered hearing something about the Major painting, he had no idea the guy had so much talent. Ronon had never had that kind of talent himself. Not art or music or any of the finer things. His only talent was war, and he’d crafted it and perfected it over the years.
After a while, Lorne’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times. “Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Hey,” Ronon said. He held up the sketch pad. “What’s this?”
Lorne smiled. “Sketch pad. I like to draw.”
Grinning, Ronon bopped him on the head with the pad. “I know what a sketch pad is, Lorne. Sateda had command of fire, too.”
“Sorry,” Lorne said, a grin creeping into his features. “The Colonel brought it from my quarters yesterday. Wanted to give me something to do.”
Ronon flipped the book to a starkly beautiful picture of himself. “I like this one.”
Lorne licked his lips. “Yeah. Sorry. I should have asked.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Ronon asked. “I’m flattered anyone would bother to draw a picture of me. And like I said, it’s good.”
“Thanks.” Lorne winced as he tried to shift his body into a more comfortable position.
“So I guess it’ll be a while before we get to spar again,” Ronon said.
“Oh, maybe a couple of days,” Lorne deadpanned. “How’s Kemp?”
“Keller released him. He was here this morning, checking in on you.”
“I should write letters to Jameson’s and Watkins’s families.”
“Sheppard’s doing it. You rest. So, who’s this?” Ronon asked, holding up the last picture in the sketch pad. “I don’t recognize him.”
Lorne jaw tensed a bit. “I just did that one. His name’s Jaden. He’s an Acruan villager.”
Ronon leaned a little closer to the bed. “Did he die in the attack?”
“I doubt it,” Lorne said. His voice sounded hollow, and Ronon wondered if he should push for more information. When Lorne started rubbing his eyes, though, Ronon figured he could question him about Jaden another time.
“So,” he said, decided placing the pad onto the bedside table. “You need to sleep?”
“No. I doze off sometimes,” Lorne said. “It’s the meds. Ronon?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for staying with me. I like having you here.”
“I like being here.”
“And thanks for having my back.”
Ronon reached forward and lightly touched Lorne’s forearm. “Anytime. You’ve had mine more times than I can count. Why don’t you close your eyes? I’ll be here when you wake up.”
