![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: In Sickness And In Health
Rating/Warning: PG (language)
Wordcount: 2,442
Spoilers: None
Fandom: SGA
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Category: Lorne/Novak
Notes: Forjebbypal for Sweet Charity.
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Evan Lorne woke up in the infirmary. He didn’t remember getting there and that was always a bad sign.
He tried lifting his arms and they didn’t respond like they should. He went internal for a moment, registering all the other aches and pains. There were a lot so it took a moment for him to isolate for himself the worst of it. His arms and legs were like so much meat and there was a dull pressure on his chest, like someone pressing down. Other than that, he was fine.
Yeah, right.
Lorne finally managed to roll his head to the side and he could see in the next bed a woman. She had her own head turned away but he’d seen the back of that head enough to know who it was, even without the tight bun.
Lindsay Novak.
She was on the team he’d been babysitting for the past three weeks on M4X-777. Three long weeks with nothing to do but fend off refreshments from the villagers nearby and listen to the scientists having their little geek-gasms over the ruins they’d found. There was a ring setup much like the Goa’uld had used, most likely co-opted from Ancient tech like a lot of their stuff.
“Hi Doctor Novak,” a nurse greeted brightly, pausing at the end of Novak’s bed and glancing at her chart. Her eyes flickered sideways and away and then back again. Something like shock washed over her face and Lorne realized it was because she had looked at him.
“Doctor Beckett!” the nurse shrilled out, still sounding off-balance and Lorne thought that it was yet another thing to lump into the not good category that his life was swiftly becoming. When medical staff were surprised as hell to see you awake then you had been close to stepping off the mortal coil.
He was relieved to hear the sharp squeak-slap of Doctor Beckett’s shoes because the man did not have a poker face and one look at the Scot would tell Lorne just how screwed he was. He was fighting for all his worth the tiredness that was stealing over him but everything had become dark at the edges and indistinct.
Right before it all swept him under, Lorne saw Novak turn her head his way.
She was pale and drawn, fragile and sick looking but that didn’t matter one bit because she smiled.
000
The next time Lorne woke up, Colonel Sheppard was sitting at his bedside with his feet kicked up on Lorne’s bed and a Popular Mechanic across his thighs.
“Hey Sir,” Lorne tried to say but nothing came out except a dry exhalation. Sheppard heard it however and sat up quickly, the magazine sliding from his lap.
“Lorne, hey,” Sheppard said quickly, eyes casting about probably for someone with some medical training. Lorne noticed behind Sheppard the bed that had contained Novak was now empty. “I was starting to forget what pretty eyes you had.”
Lorne chuffed a laugh but it was broken off as pain sliced through him. Sheppard grimaced and put a hand down next to Lorne’s hip, stricken. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly as Beckett bustled up behind him, looking stern.
“What did you do?” Beckett snapped, jostling Sheppard out of the way so he could lean down to Lorne. He was smiling though. “Major, nice to see you awake.”
Lorne opened his mouth to try and speak again but Beckett quickly shook his head. “No, it’s alright lad. Just give it a little time.” He motioned and a nurse appeared in Lorne’s line of sight, clutching a plastic cup. Lorne wanted nothing more than to ask how bad but he couldn’t even manage that much. Right at that moment though, the nurse reached out a hand and ice touched his lips. Lorne almost moaned at the feeling of it, not remembering anything more exquisite.
“There you are. Sally here always had the touch,” Beckett said with a good-natured twinkle and busied himself around the bed, checking monitors and then paperwork. Lorne’s eyes strayed back to Sheppard, standing at the sidelines and still looking pained. Lorne raised a hand, which was thankfully responding this time and motioned, a give it to me straight twirl that he hoped Sheppard would understand.
When he did he noticed the tattoo.
“Either this is a transfer or someone is going to get their ass kicked,” Lorne said, bringing his hand closer so that he could make out the black mark that was etched into his skin at the base of his thumb. Carson and Sheppard looked distinctly uncomfortable and then at each other. “He’s your patient,” Sheppard prompted.
“Aye, and he’s your responsibility,” Carson countered and Lorne wanted to scream with frustration at the two men before him who were obviously involved in rousing game of hot potato with what he suspected would be bad news.
“You ah… fell,” Sheppard said, rubbing at the back of his head.
“Onto a tattoo?” Lorne asked, flexing his hand and Sheppard rolled his eyes.
“No, you fell on M4X-777 into a pit. A Punji pit trap actually. There were still some nomadic tribes that used them to trap game.”
It started coming back at Sheppard’s words. Lorne knew he’d gone into the jungle surrounding the village closest to the gate to look for a child that had gone missing. He and Ramirez had been the only ones to head off with the village males because he hadn’t liked leaving the scientists unprotected but it had started looking like it would be a thing if at least a couple of the visitors didn’t go.
“Wait,” Lorne said, cold stealing over his body. Novak had been in the infirmary when he’d regained consciousness and she’d been back at the village. Perhaps his worst fear had come true and the villagers had used their separation to… “What about-?”
“Everyone else is fine. The Darnians were horrified by what happened and from what I’ve been told, very quick to respond,” Carson said, leaning forward to tap on Lorne’s bed with a reassuring hand.
“Well, the pit explains me being in here feeling like I’ve had a couple of stakes rammed into me but what about this?” Lorne pressed, holding his hand up again and waving it for good measure.
“The Darnians have some very strong beliefs,” Sheppard said with a small grimace.
“They were willing to treat you medically after your accident but you’d lost a lot of blood and they didn’t want to risk moving you back to the gate.” Carson picked up, looking at Sheppard and narrowing his gaze. “They’re quite advanced medically, most of their civilization is built on the ability to heal. They travel to other worlds, trading their knowledge and tending to wounded and sick.”
“That all sounds lovely but it’s not answering my question. What beliefs? Did they need to tattoo me with a symbol of their faith or something?” Lorne asked, because he’d actually heard of that happening. Johnston, a twenty-four year old marine had a very fetching flower design on his right ass cheek because he’d sworn in a temple on P89-586. Ever since, the man didn’t say so much as darn so Lorne supposed the lesson had been learned.
“They believe the body is holy and the organs and blood sacred. They do perform transfusions and transplants, but only between those that share a familial bond.”
Lorne blinked at the two men standing before him, looking completely earnest. He started wondering if maybe someone was having him on. “So why am I alive?” he asked.
“The only exception they make to the rule is between bonded partners because a blessed union also appeases their gods,” Sheppard explained, biting at his lip.
“Come again?”
“Doctor Novak is a blood-type match for you so she… volunteered.”
“For what exactly?” Lorne demanded, getting a very bad feeling about the whole thing.
“Um, well,” Sheppard said, eyes on the floor. “You’re…married.”
000
It took about six weeks, but with the help of crutches, Lorne was finally upright and able to make his way to Lindsay Novak’s room because she hadn’t been back in the infirmary since he’d first seen her. He’d asked a couple of nurses about her and they’d all gone soft and giggly.
He was thrilled that everyone found this all so amusing.
Doctor McKay had actually come to visit him and when he’d asked if McKay had seen Lindsay, the man had huffed and flapped his hands, asking if he was expected to know where all the scientists were at all times of the day because he was extremely busy and too important. “I just want to know where my wife is,” Lorne had answered pissily and had earned a rather exaggerated eye roll for his trouble.
“Like we all haven’t been married to someone in a weird alien ritual at least once,” he’d snorted and then had gone bright pink and fled.
On his way to Lindsay’s room, everyone he passed kept smiling at him and Lorne was pretty sure it wasn’t all because he was up and around. This kind of thing had a way of getting around the place. Atlantis was like a small town in a lot of ways. Some people even managed to get out a strangled congratulations before fleeing his presence when he proved to be faster on the crutches than they expected.
Lorne had high school football and a stack of knee injuries to thank for that.
When he finally reached Lindsay’s room, he had to sink to the floor just next to the door for a moment, crutches held in one hand and leaning against the wall because he was sweating and feeling lightheaded. That’s how Lindsay found him when she emerged with an armload of manila folders that she promptly dropped.
“Major!” she squeaked.
“Don’t you think that’s a tad formal considering?” Lorne asked, aiming for light and missing it by a mile. Lindsay had hunkered down to scrape together her papers and he caught a flash of black ink when her hands darted out to push everything into a manageable pile. “I just wanted to say thanks and, y’know, sorry,” Lorne said, watching as Lindsay noticed where his eyes had fallen, flush a dull pink and tuck her hand behind her, making the task of actually picking up her work almost impossible.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Lindsay said in a rush. Watching her, flustered and with her hair escaping the painful looking bun she always forced it into, Lorne found he wasn’t completely surprised to realize he was completely taken with her. She wasn’t hiccupping at least and that was…
“Hic!” Lindsay’s non-tattooed hand flew to her throat and clutched there for a moment, as the dull blush ramped up to a vibrant red.
“I was wondering if I could buy you dinner sometime,” Lorne tried, smiling despite himself. Lindsay stilled and then looked at him, puzzled.
“We have a cafeteria. They don’t charge you for-”
“I’m trying to be charming,” Lorne said, interrupting her and Lindsay swallowed and stared at him hard. “Which… I’m failing aren’t I?”
“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost,” Lindsay said, sounding completely thrown. She had a cute little line of consternation between her brows which Lorne wanted to smooth out with his thumb and…
He’d noticed her before, absolutely. Lorne had always had a thing for the type of girl that sat in the front row in class and frowned at everyone else when the teacher wasn’t there and they weren’t studying like she was. That type of girl had always fascinated him because they knew where they were going and Lorne had never really ever had a clue. He’d been a dabbler, good at a lot of things but never particularly brilliant at any of them.
Lindsay had always been a blur though, rushing from place to place, always looking busy and frazzled. He remembered once being busted by David Parrish staring at the back of her head during dinner. “Just talk to her,” Parrish had hissed and in the same breath had asked for his brownie.
She’d been tattooed and some of her blood was thrumming through his veins.
“I asked the linguist, Sandy? Asked her what the tattoos meant and apparently I have your name so I’m assuming you have mine,” Lorne said; holding up his hand, back facing Lindsay so she could see it.
“Lorne?” Her brows furrowed when she pulled her own hand out of hiding and Lorne laughed.
“More likely Evan,” he corrected, still grinning. “’Cause I have Lindsay.”
“I didn’t even know you knew my name,” she said, her blush having backed off to a dull pink again and being very pretty.
“Well, it’s not like I would ever forget it,” Lorne said, waggling his hand and it was her turn to laugh.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Lindsay said, darting forward to help Lorne to his feet when he pushed off with the crutches. She winced in sympathy when he hissed, feeling the hundreds of stitches pull in various ways with his movement. “They asked if anyone could donate blood and I said yes. They asked if I was your wife and I said-”
“Yes,” Lorne finished, tilting his head to look at her when she bit her lip. “Why’d you do that?”
“Offworld one-o-one. Someone asks if you’re already married you say yes. Especially after the McKay thing.”
“What McKay thing?” Lorne asked, intrigued. Lindsay had resorted to simply kicking her papers back into her room, having possibly given them up as a lost cause.
“Him and Ronon? It’s a long story,” she said, her eyes darting down the hall like she was expecting McKay to round the corner and spring her spilling the beans.
“Okay, now I have to hear this,” Lorne said, chuckling.
“Well, I guess… it’s about dinner time and I think I remember an invitation.”
Lorne blinked at Lindsay for a second. “Well,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Least I can do for the girl that said I do.”
“You’re lucky I like the name Evan,” Lindsay said, holding her hand out. Lorne put out his own after carefully balancing his crutches and when they gripped hands, the tattoos were aligned, the last curl of the last letter on Lindsay’s tattoo being the first curl on the first letter of Lorne’s.
“Where I stop, you begin,” Lindsay said, voice sounding a little breathless.
“I like that idea.”
Rating/Warning: PG (language)
Wordcount: 2,442
Spoilers: None
Fandom: SGA
By:
kellifer_ficCategory: Lorne/Novak
Notes: For
jebbypal for Sweet Charity.Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Evan Lorne woke up in the infirmary. He didn’t remember getting there and that was always a bad sign.
He tried lifting his arms and they didn’t respond like they should. He went internal for a moment, registering all the other aches and pains. There were a lot so it took a moment for him to isolate for himself the worst of it. His arms and legs were like so much meat and there was a dull pressure on his chest, like someone pressing down. Other than that, he was fine.
Yeah, right.
Lorne finally managed to roll his head to the side and he could see in the next bed a woman. She had her own head turned away but he’d seen the back of that head enough to know who it was, even without the tight bun.
Lindsay Novak.
She was on the team he’d been babysitting for the past three weeks on M4X-777. Three long weeks with nothing to do but fend off refreshments from the villagers nearby and listen to the scientists having their little geek-gasms over the ruins they’d found. There was a ring setup much like the Goa’uld had used, most likely co-opted from Ancient tech like a lot of their stuff.
“Hi Doctor Novak,” a nurse greeted brightly, pausing at the end of Novak’s bed and glancing at her chart. Her eyes flickered sideways and away and then back again. Something like shock washed over her face and Lorne realized it was because she had looked at him.
“Doctor Beckett!” the nurse shrilled out, still sounding off-balance and Lorne thought that it was yet another thing to lump into the not good category that his life was swiftly becoming. When medical staff were surprised as hell to see you awake then you had been close to stepping off the mortal coil.
He was relieved to hear the sharp squeak-slap of Doctor Beckett’s shoes because the man did not have a poker face and one look at the Scot would tell Lorne just how screwed he was. He was fighting for all his worth the tiredness that was stealing over him but everything had become dark at the edges and indistinct.
Right before it all swept him under, Lorne saw Novak turn her head his way.
She was pale and drawn, fragile and sick looking but that didn’t matter one bit because she smiled.
The next time Lorne woke up, Colonel Sheppard was sitting at his bedside with his feet kicked up on Lorne’s bed and a Popular Mechanic across his thighs.
“Hey Sir,” Lorne tried to say but nothing came out except a dry exhalation. Sheppard heard it however and sat up quickly, the magazine sliding from his lap.
“Lorne, hey,” Sheppard said quickly, eyes casting about probably for someone with some medical training. Lorne noticed behind Sheppard the bed that had contained Novak was now empty. “I was starting to forget what pretty eyes you had.”
Lorne chuffed a laugh but it was broken off as pain sliced through him. Sheppard grimaced and put a hand down next to Lorne’s hip, stricken. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly as Beckett bustled up behind him, looking stern.
“What did you do?” Beckett snapped, jostling Sheppard out of the way so he could lean down to Lorne. He was smiling though. “Major, nice to see you awake.”
Lorne opened his mouth to try and speak again but Beckett quickly shook his head. “No, it’s alright lad. Just give it a little time.” He motioned and a nurse appeared in Lorne’s line of sight, clutching a plastic cup. Lorne wanted nothing more than to ask how bad but he couldn’t even manage that much. Right at that moment though, the nurse reached out a hand and ice touched his lips. Lorne almost moaned at the feeling of it, not remembering anything more exquisite.
“There you are. Sally here always had the touch,” Beckett said with a good-natured twinkle and busied himself around the bed, checking monitors and then paperwork. Lorne’s eyes strayed back to Sheppard, standing at the sidelines and still looking pained. Lorne raised a hand, which was thankfully responding this time and motioned, a give it to me straight twirl that he hoped Sheppard would understand.
When he did he noticed the tattoo.
“Either this is a transfer or someone is going to get their ass kicked,” Lorne said, bringing his hand closer so that he could make out the black mark that was etched into his skin at the base of his thumb. Carson and Sheppard looked distinctly uncomfortable and then at each other. “He’s your patient,” Sheppard prompted.
“Aye, and he’s your responsibility,” Carson countered and Lorne wanted to scream with frustration at the two men before him who were obviously involved in rousing game of hot potato with what he suspected would be bad news.
“You ah… fell,” Sheppard said, rubbing at the back of his head.
“Onto a tattoo?” Lorne asked, flexing his hand and Sheppard rolled his eyes.
“No, you fell on M4X-777 into a pit. A Punji pit trap actually. There were still some nomadic tribes that used them to trap game.”
It started coming back at Sheppard’s words. Lorne knew he’d gone into the jungle surrounding the village closest to the gate to look for a child that had gone missing. He and Ramirez had been the only ones to head off with the village males because he hadn’t liked leaving the scientists unprotected but it had started looking like it would be a thing if at least a couple of the visitors didn’t go.
“Wait,” Lorne said, cold stealing over his body. Novak had been in the infirmary when he’d regained consciousness and she’d been back at the village. Perhaps his worst fear had come true and the villagers had used their separation to… “What about-?”
“Everyone else is fine. The Darnians were horrified by what happened and from what I’ve been told, very quick to respond,” Carson said, leaning forward to tap on Lorne’s bed with a reassuring hand.
“Well, the pit explains me being in here feeling like I’ve had a couple of stakes rammed into me but what about this?” Lorne pressed, holding his hand up again and waving it for good measure.
“The Darnians have some very strong beliefs,” Sheppard said with a small grimace.
“They were willing to treat you medically after your accident but you’d lost a lot of blood and they didn’t want to risk moving you back to the gate.” Carson picked up, looking at Sheppard and narrowing his gaze. “They’re quite advanced medically, most of their civilization is built on the ability to heal. They travel to other worlds, trading their knowledge and tending to wounded and sick.”
“That all sounds lovely but it’s not answering my question. What beliefs? Did they need to tattoo me with a symbol of their faith or something?” Lorne asked, because he’d actually heard of that happening. Johnston, a twenty-four year old marine had a very fetching flower design on his right ass cheek because he’d sworn in a temple on P89-586. Ever since, the man didn’t say so much as darn so Lorne supposed the lesson had been learned.
“They believe the body is holy and the organs and blood sacred. They do perform transfusions and transplants, but only between those that share a familial bond.”
Lorne blinked at the two men standing before him, looking completely earnest. He started wondering if maybe someone was having him on. “So why am I alive?” he asked.
“The only exception they make to the rule is between bonded partners because a blessed union also appeases their gods,” Sheppard explained, biting at his lip.
“Come again?”
“Doctor Novak is a blood-type match for you so she… volunteered.”
“For what exactly?” Lorne demanded, getting a very bad feeling about the whole thing.
“Um, well,” Sheppard said, eyes on the floor. “You’re…married.”
It took about six weeks, but with the help of crutches, Lorne was finally upright and able to make his way to Lindsay Novak’s room because she hadn’t been back in the infirmary since he’d first seen her. He’d asked a couple of nurses about her and they’d all gone soft and giggly.
He was thrilled that everyone found this all so amusing.
Doctor McKay had actually come to visit him and when he’d asked if McKay had seen Lindsay, the man had huffed and flapped his hands, asking if he was expected to know where all the scientists were at all times of the day because he was extremely busy and too important. “I just want to know where my wife is,” Lorne had answered pissily and had earned a rather exaggerated eye roll for his trouble.
“Like we all haven’t been married to someone in a weird alien ritual at least once,” he’d snorted and then had gone bright pink and fled.
On his way to Lindsay’s room, everyone he passed kept smiling at him and Lorne was pretty sure it wasn’t all because he was up and around. This kind of thing had a way of getting around the place. Atlantis was like a small town in a lot of ways. Some people even managed to get out a strangled congratulations before fleeing his presence when he proved to be faster on the crutches than they expected.
Lorne had high school football and a stack of knee injuries to thank for that.
When he finally reached Lindsay’s room, he had to sink to the floor just next to the door for a moment, crutches held in one hand and leaning against the wall because he was sweating and feeling lightheaded. That’s how Lindsay found him when she emerged with an armload of manila folders that she promptly dropped.
“Major!” she squeaked.
“Don’t you think that’s a tad formal considering?” Lorne asked, aiming for light and missing it by a mile. Lindsay had hunkered down to scrape together her papers and he caught a flash of black ink when her hands darted out to push everything into a manageable pile. “I just wanted to say thanks and, y’know, sorry,” Lorne said, watching as Lindsay noticed where his eyes had fallen, flush a dull pink and tuck her hand behind her, making the task of actually picking up her work almost impossible.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Lindsay said in a rush. Watching her, flustered and with her hair escaping the painful looking bun she always forced it into, Lorne found he wasn’t completely surprised to realize he was completely taken with her. She wasn’t hiccupping at least and that was…
“Hic!” Lindsay’s non-tattooed hand flew to her throat and clutched there for a moment, as the dull blush ramped up to a vibrant red.
“I was wondering if I could buy you dinner sometime,” Lorne tried, smiling despite himself. Lindsay stilled and then looked at him, puzzled.
“We have a cafeteria. They don’t charge you for-”
“I’m trying to be charming,” Lorne said, interrupting her and Lindsay swallowed and stared at him hard. “Which… I’m failing aren’t I?”
“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost,” Lindsay said, sounding completely thrown. She had a cute little line of consternation between her brows which Lorne wanted to smooth out with his thumb and…
He’d noticed her before, absolutely. Lorne had always had a thing for the type of girl that sat in the front row in class and frowned at everyone else when the teacher wasn’t there and they weren’t studying like she was. That type of girl had always fascinated him because they knew where they were going and Lorne had never really ever had a clue. He’d been a dabbler, good at a lot of things but never particularly brilliant at any of them.
Lindsay had always been a blur though, rushing from place to place, always looking busy and frazzled. He remembered once being busted by David Parrish staring at the back of her head during dinner. “Just talk to her,” Parrish had hissed and in the same breath had asked for his brownie.
She’d been tattooed and some of her blood was thrumming through his veins.
“I asked the linguist, Sandy? Asked her what the tattoos meant and apparently I have your name so I’m assuming you have mine,” Lorne said; holding up his hand, back facing Lindsay so she could see it.
“Lorne?” Her brows furrowed when she pulled her own hand out of hiding and Lorne laughed.
“More likely Evan,” he corrected, still grinning. “’Cause I have Lindsay.”
“I didn’t even know you knew my name,” she said, her blush having backed off to a dull pink again and being very pretty.
“Well, it’s not like I would ever forget it,” Lorne said, waggling his hand and it was her turn to laugh.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Lindsay said, darting forward to help Lorne to his feet when he pushed off with the crutches. She winced in sympathy when he hissed, feeling the hundreds of stitches pull in various ways with his movement. “They asked if anyone could donate blood and I said yes. They asked if I was your wife and I said-”
“Yes,” Lorne finished, tilting his head to look at her when she bit her lip. “Why’d you do that?”
“Offworld one-o-one. Someone asks if you’re already married you say yes. Especially after the McKay thing.”
“What McKay thing?” Lorne asked, intrigued. Lindsay had resorted to simply kicking her papers back into her room, having possibly given them up as a lost cause.
“Him and Ronon? It’s a long story,” she said, her eyes darting down the hall like she was expecting McKay to round the corner and spring her spilling the beans.
“Okay, now I have to hear this,” Lorne said, chuckling.
“Well, I guess… it’s about dinner time and I think I remember an invitation.”
Lorne blinked at Lindsay for a second. “Well,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Least I can do for the girl that said I do.”
“You’re lucky I like the name Evan,” Lindsay said, holding her hand out. Lorne put out his own after carefully balancing his crutches and when they gripped hands, the tattoos were aligned, the last curl of the last letter on Lindsay’s tattoo being the first curl on the first letter of Lorne’s.
“Where I stop, you begin,” Lindsay said, voice sounding a little breathless.
“I like that idea.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
Loved your Becket being all mean to Shepherd. Heh. :)
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Offworld one-o-one. Someone asks if you’re already married you say yes.
Oh glee! *g*
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Any chance for a sequel? We need to hear the McKay/Ronon story after all. *g*
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Does this fit into your Lorne/Novak series?
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
But I really want to know waht happened with MacKkay and Ronan [g]
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject