Fic: Situation Normal (A.F.U.) 1/3
Title: Situation Normal (A.F.U.)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 22,500 [complete]
Rating: R (violence, language)
Warning/Potential Trigger: attempted sexual assault
Spoilers: through 2.01 The Siege, Part III
Beta Thanks: to the formidable cinaea
Summary: While collecting flora and fauna samples on a routine off-world mission, something goes terribly wrong for Major Lorne's Gate Team. When they get back to Atlantis, the B-Team's soldiers and scientists have to deal with the fallout in a city that's still trying to recover from its own attack.
Part I | Part II | Part III
Most of the sample baggies were full by their second hour on M3X-474. Parrish hadn't stopped speaking into the voice recorder since they'd arrived, delighted with the new and diverse (he didn't like it when Lorne called it "alien") plant life. Schmitz was sulking; he'd dropped the Nikon digital camera and couldn't get it to work. Lorne imagined there'd be hell to pay from McKay when the biologist got back to Atlantis.
Everything was situation: normal so far. Sunshine, only one sun in the sky-he'd learned not to take the simple things for granted-good temperature, no wind, and unchallenging terrain. The woods they were exploring weren't too shadowy or dense, and so far all of the animal tracks were small. Lorne's guard was down and he'd been musing about the chewing-out Schmitz would get from the chiefs for breaking his third camera in as many months. That's why he didn't notice Parrish stooping down in front of him until he'd already walked into the back of him.
"Ouch!" Parrish yelped.
"Damn it," Evan swore as he toppled, catching his fall with one hand on the back of David's head and the other on a squishy green mess on the ground.
"Ow, seriously, get off!" Parrish protested, shoving away Lorne's hand.
"Sorry 'bout that," Lorne muttered, trying to regain his composure and latitude. "Ew," he scowled at his hand. "What is this stuff?"
Parrish looked up at him, pulled his hand down so he could see it better. "Lichen. Moss. Looks like the stuff on M3Y-30 and -118; harmless. But look at these flowers!"
Lorne looked down where David pointed. "Pretty. What do you think?"
"Definitely new to the catalog," David said, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his back pocket. He put his head right next to one and resumed speaking into the recorder, "Fully mature-thick yellow coating of pollen, short stalks, long petals…."
Lorne waved to Chernowski and called, "Parrish found something. I'll wait here, you two keep with Schmittie." Chernowski waved back, and he and Mueller followed Schmitz toward a brighter clearing up ahead.
Evan patrolled the area (not pacing, patrolling) and checked his watch and compass while Parrish droned in the quiet. He wiped the green stuff off on his pants. There was a really ugly bird call coming from up ahead, probably from a really ugly bird, and Schmitz was doubtless cursing about that broken camera again. It was getting warmer; he rubbed at the back of his neck. That's when he noticed the yellow pollen on his sleeve. He squinted at it-it kind of sparkled in the sunlight. But it wasn't just on the uniform.
Oh crap.
"Hey, Parrish, I got some of your pollen on me."
Parrish blinked up at him, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the upper canopy. "You did?"
"Yeah." Stay calm. Just like they'd practiced.
Parrish pocketed his recorder, stood up, and leaned over his arm to see. "Does it itch? Burn?"
"Nope. But I'm feeling really warm all of a sudden."
"Okay, okay, okay," Parrish picked up his backpack and pulled out the field first-aid kit. "Okay, let's get it off your skin and take your temperature. Under your tongue…."
Lorne put the thermometer under his tongue and tried to control his breathing. Panic wasn't going to help. He was used to this. They'd practiced this dozens of times since M3V-145. At least this plant didn't seem to have acid-sap.
He watched David pull out the SaniWipes to rub the pollen off his wrist. It felt cool and obscenely good. Lorne breathed deeply through his nose, and David looked at him sharply. He shook his head, but felt his heart racing way too fast, faster than mere adrenaline would've caused. Something was wrong. This wasn't panic; this was a definite reaction.
"I'd better get it off the uniform, too. Just in case." Parrish held his hand and dabbed at his sleeve, and Lorne felt dizzy. As if all the blood in his brain had just rushed to his cock, and, Jesus, what the fuck? "Major?" Parrish was sparkly, just like the pollen, Evan realized. He smiled. Parrish frowned. That wasn't good. "Major, how do you feel now?"
"Hmm-umm," he hummed worriedly, keeping his lips tightly closed around the thermometer.
Parrish released his hand and tucked the used SaniWipe into a sample baggie. "I'll do a full analysis of the pollen when we get back to Atlantis. Just to be sure there aren't any side-effects."
Lorne closed his eyes against the sparkle, but opened them when he felt himself swaying toward Parrish's voice.
"A few more seconds," David was holding the tip of the thermometer now, using his height advantage to read it without pulling it out. His fingers were inches from his lips.
Lorne's eyes rolled back in his head for a moment and he fisted his hands at his sides. His hips wanted to jerk forward, rub up against-
Parrish pulled out the thermometer and shook it twice. "I don't see…your temperature's a little high, but nothing serious. Your eyes…" and he stepped closer, putting his hands on Lorne's face and lifting up his eyelids. Evan tried not to blink. He tried not to lick his lips, either. "…are dilated-sorry, that probably hurt," Parrish said, letting go and pulling his hands away. "Do you think we should head back to Atlantis?"
And then they were kissing and woah, who knew David had it in him? Evan's hands were in the scientist's hair, and he was driving his tongue into his mouth and pulling him closer, mashing their lips together. And David was squirming-no, pushing-pushing away-and Lorne let go.
"Major!" Parrish gasped when he was free. "Stop it. I'm sorry, but I'm really…I'm not…I'm just not…"
To hell with being a gentleman. If David couldn't make a complete sentence then he didn't have anything worth saying. He grabbed him by the hair again and tried to kiss him, but Parrish shoved hard and got away.
"What's gotten into you?" Parrish demanded, angry now. "Cool the hell off and stop it. I'm not interested, okay? Unless this is some kind of freaky pollen-reaction-thing, just get over it."
Evan's blood boiled. Son of a bitch. Fucking tease. "Fucking tease," he growled and jumped forward, catching Parrish's arm when the taller man jerked back.
"Damn it, Lorne," he shouted, twisting in his grasp, "let go!"
Lorne shut him up with a right hook that sent him sprawling to the ground. David coughed, rolled over, coughed some more, and there was blood flowing from his nose. Which was bad. Something was still wrong.
"You broke my nose!" he gasped, and Lorne fell on him. David tried to jam his elbow in Lorne's face, so the marine punched him once in the gut and then again in the face.
Thank god David had finally shut up. Evan smiled and tugged at his collar again. Fucking hot out here. He ripped at his jacket for a few seconds before he remembered it was a zipper. He was having a hard time concentrating, but soon the jacket came off, and David was trapped between his knees, trying to roll to his side, dazed and gasping. Lorne pinned his shoulders to the dirt and dove in for another kiss. Bloody. Was that how David liked it? He bit down as hard as he could on the scientist's lower lip, and David screamed, writhing up against him. It felt unbelievable. Evan ground down with his hips and dragged his bloody mouth down to taste David's throat.
"Mueller," Parrish panted above him. "Mueller! Chernowski!" He was using his hands again, pushing at Evan's face, trying to get him to move away.
"Shut up!" Lorne snarled, knocking his hands aside and pulling at the scientist's jacket and shirt, pushing them up over his soft belly. "Yeah," he grunted, shoving one of his hands up under David's shirt, feeling the hot skin leap.
"Stop! Jesus, Chernowski! Fucking help! Get over he-"
Lorne punched him in his stomach again, silencing his screams with coughing. David swung at the side of his head, but he shrugged it off. Then the scientist attacked him with his fingers, clawing at his face with gloved hands, latex catching harmlessly against his skin. Evan pinned David's hands above his head and sprawled on top of him, more excited than he could bear. "You like it like this," he gloated, squeezing David's chin with one hand.
David flailed his legs, and Lorne rolled him over to immobilize him. With David trapped under him, coughing face down in the dirt, he could finally use his hands. Lorne fumbled with his fly; the zipper was easy, but the button was a pain in the ass, son of a bitch, and he ended up tearing the polyester-blend a little before it finally came undone. David was moaning under him, trying to push himself up. Lorne snarled and shoved his head back down, leaning on him while he reached around and fought with the taller man's zipper and goddamned button.
And that's when the lights went out.
~
"Damn it, what the Hell!" Mueller shouted between gasps, dropping his rifle on the ground next to Major Lorne's body.
"Get him off me," Parrish begged from underneath. Chernowski leapt to his aid, rolling Lorne off the botanist. Why the hell was there blood all over Lorne's face?
Parrish rolled over and there was a lot more blood on him. "What the hell happened?" Mueller demanded again, catching his breath. He'd just struck a superior officer. He was so screwed. But the way the scientist had been screaming….
"You alright? You wanna stand up?" Chernowski was asking. Parrish accepted his hand and let the marine pull him to his feet. Christ, he looked a mess.
"Did you kill him?" Parrish asked, glancing down at Lorne.
"No. But what the hell-"
Parrish coughed and held his stomach. His eye was swelling up, too. "We need to get back to Atlantis. Major Lorne may have been exposed to an… uh… neurotoxin. Something that caused a reaction. He needs medical treatment and analysis."
Chernowski looked up from Lorne, alarmed, but Mueller got himself back under control, cooled down, and nodded. New orders: extract the casualties. "Schmittie!" Mueller shouted, but the biologist was only a few yards away, his eyes widening as he approached the scene. "We're canceling and getting back to Atlantis. Here, take Parrish's gear." He scooped up the backpack and tossed it to him.
Schmitz caught it, muttered something about "fucking plants," and strapped it backward on his chest.
Chernowski had Lorne up in a fireman's carry already. Parrish still looked like a wreck. Neurotoxins. Right. Not his problem; he just had to get them back to Atlantis. Mueller picked up the first-aid kit and Lorne's jacket, and lead the major's team back to the Gate.
~
"Come in, Lieutenant," Dr. Weir called, looking up from her laptop screen. Lorne stepped into the office, nodding to Weir and Colonel Sheppard. "Please, have a seat."
Lorne pulled off his beret and sat in the first empty chair. "Thank you, Ma'am. Colonel."
"Lieutenant," she began with a smile, "I asked you here because we've decided to resume exploring the Pegasus Galaxy and we need good men to send off-world."
Lorne's stomach dropped and his skin crawled. That was good, great, off-world missions, getting everything back to normal…except 'normal' had attracted the Wraith two months ago. Going back out there could draw more attacks on the city, and they were hardly in a position to fend off another assault….
"We'd like to invite you to join the Gate Team program," she continued. "Colonel Sheppard and I've reviewed your file, and we agree; your exemplary performance during the Wraith invasion makes you one of the most qualified officers in the city." Weir raised her eyebrows when he remained silent. "Thoughts, Lieutenant?"
Evan cleared his throat nervously. "Ah, Ma'am, are you sure that's…the best course of action? Sending out more missions? Shouldn't we be focusing on fortifying Atlantis against another attack?"
Sheppard leaned forward, sarcasm conveying more disapproval than his frown when he answered, "We're already working on security, Lieutenant. It hasn't dropped off the priority list."
Shit, that was out of bounds. "Of course, Sir. I wasn't saying you had-"
"And in case you've forgotten," he cut him off sharply, "this is still a civilian-run scientific expedition. It's about time we actually performed that mission." A wry smile slipped past the colonel's scowl. "Before they cut our funding."
"Yes, Sir," Evan agreed, dutifully turning his attention back to Dr. Weir.
"Colonel Sheppard will take his team back out to make contact with our neighbors and try to find a working ZPM. I'm proposing to form a second team, one for strictly scientific inquiry. The colonel has recommended you to lead that team."
Lorne's heart rate jumped and he fought back a smile. A command. Not just off-world, but a fucking command! "That would be…. I'd be honored, ma'am," he said earnestly, humbled. Out of dozens of marines in Atlantis, he'd been chosen for a command. It felt like winning the lottery.
"Of course, you'll need a promotion. How does 'Major Lorne' sound?" Sheppard asked, a smile cracking his formal demeanor.
Evan couldn't hold back his own smile any longer. "It sounds great! Sir," he barely remembered to add.
Sheppard stood up, followed by Weir. Lorne jumped up, too. "Then congratulations, Major," the colonel shook his hand. "Good to have you on the team. We'll let you know more details as we work them out."
"Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Ma'am," Lorne beamed, turning to shake Weir's hand.
"Congratulations," she murmured, and sat back down.
Lorne saluted them both and stepped smartly out of the office, a bounce in his step. Major Lorne. A command. He let the feeling of success sink in, savoring it.
~
Weir was waiting with Dr. Beckett and a security unit when Mueller led his team through the iris. Beckett's masked- and gloved quarantine team leapt forward, pulling the major off Chernowski's shoulders and onto a gurney.
"What happened," Dr. Weir asked him, somehow conveying concern and urgency simultaneously.
Mueller did his duty as ranking lieutenant, stepping up with the most perfect salute he could muster. "We're not entirely sure, Ma'am. Major Lorne attacked Dr. Parrish and I was forced to incapacitate him."
"Are you all right, Doctor?" Weir asked, looking the tall scientist up and down.
Parrish pulled a square of gauze away from his lips and spat a bit of blood into his hand. "I guess. I could be worse," he shrugged, then cleared his throat. "Major Lorne was exposed to an unknown pollen before he," his eyes flickered toward Mueller for an instant, "attacked. It's possible it contained a toxin of some kind." He dabbed at his lip again.
Mueller read the dread of another city-wide outbreak on Weir's overly-expressive face before she covered it. "We've prepared the quarantine measures you recommended. You still think quarantine is necessary?"
Parrish turned his head and watched the doctors wheel the major out of the room. "I think…I think Dr. Beckett should assess the situation. Ma'am."
"All right. Sergeant Bates, please escort Dr. Parrish and the others to med lab and quarantine. Gentlemen, your weapons?"
Mueller nodded to Chernowski and handed over his rifle, sidearm, and field knife to his fellow marines. If any of them wanted to offer him a sympathetic look, he didn't meet their eyes long enough to see it. The last thing he needed was someone asking him questions.
~
"Right, what can you tell me about this pollen, Doctor?"
Parrish slowed as Dr. Beckett fell into step beside him. "I've got a sample here." He pulled the baggie from his pocket and handed it over.
"Good man," Beckett smiled. "We'll know exactly what we're dealing with soon enough. How about Major Lorne's symptoms? Can you give me any details? How the reaction presented itself?"
Parrish gulped. "He…uh…first he complained of heat. His temperature was slightly elevated and his pupils were dilated."
"Right." Beckett waited for more.
Parrish looked around at the security escort and lowered his voice. "He became aggressive."
"Aggression. Yeah, I can see he did," the physician agreed. "Anything else?"
"Dr. Beckett, do you think-" Parrish lost a step and started over slowly. "Dr. Beckett, there are some details that…might be better left out of the mission report."
Beckett squinted at him impatiently, "Time may be of the essence, Dr. Parrish. Now, if you please?"
Parrish sighed. "Major Lorne was…aroused during the assault," he admitted.
Beckett nodded his head, "Aggression, arousal. What else?"
Parrish didn't know what to say. "Well that's…it."
"That's it?" Beckett squinted at him again. "You're sure?"
Parrish was thrown off by Beckett's blasé reaction. "Yes. That's everything. But…that last part might be embarrassing for the team," he quickly added, "so…if you could leave that part out of your report, I'd-we'd-greatly appreciate it."
The doctor cocked his head at him and sighed loudly, "All right. Depending on the nature of this reaction and any contagions you may have been exposed to…I might make a recommendation to Dr. Weir about what to put in an official report. But you know, doctor, if that's all it takes to make you blush, you haven't been through the Gate enough. You wouldn't believe half the conditions Colonel Sheppard's team has contracted." Parrish stared after him as the chief medical officer laughed and hurried ahead to the med lab.
~
He tried to be rational about it. Of course Dr. Beckett's expertise was needed to treat Major Lorne's mysterious and potentially-life-threatening condition. And the other doctors were needed to run the tests, and maintain sterility, and offer suggestions, and observe for educational purposes…. But that left Parrish in the hands of one lone nurse. He was the one with the broken nose, damn it! And all right, it wasn't technically broken, but they hadn't known that until after the x-ray. Regardless, he was the one who'd been used as a punching bag. He'd assumed that entitled him to a little extra attention. Some hand-holding, maybe. But no, the top minds in the infirmary were needed to diagnose his attacker. For the common good, he reminded himself again. And he didn't want Lorne to suffer any permanent injuries for something that wasn't his fault. He was just…pissed off. And shaken. And hurting. And humiliated.
He stuck out his lip so Nurse Cooper could spray it with cortisone, cauterize the inside, and put five stitches and two butterfly bandages on the outside. He held out his hand, making sure it didn't shake while she splinted his broken ring-finger, and sighed with relief when she handed him an ice-pack for his swollen eye. And he swallowed the antibiotics and painkillers she gave him and followed her down the hall to the quarantine cell, all without one complaint. Spoken aloud.
Parrish stepped into the room, thanked the nurse, and listened to the door lock behind him. He turned to face the small white room-four beds, two chairs, three teammates. The chairs were taken by the marines.
"Hey, Doc," Chernowski greeted him with a sympathetic grimace. "How you doin'?"
He sat on an empty bed. "I'll be fine in a few weeks. Worst part's my broken finger. Wanna see?" He gamely raised his right hand and folded down all but the middle and ring fingers. "They're taped together, so it's not quite the right effect…but you know what I mean," he smirked.
Chernowski laughed, "Good to see you, too, Doc."
"What about the major?" Mueller muttered, chin down on his chest.
"I don't know. They're still doing tests," he shrugged. Mueller flicked some dirt out from under a nail. Parrish bounced his heel on the floor. "Lieutenant…thanks."
"Don't mention it," Mueller muttered and shifted in his chair.
They sat in silence for the next 30 minutes-well, silence once he'd convinced Schmitz to drop McKay's elitist prime/not-prime game. Chernowski actually gave him a thumbs up when Schmitz finally shut up. David stretched out on the bed and wished he had something else to do besides lie there feeling achy and embarrassed. And watch Schmitz rub at the back of his left hand.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened on Colonel Sheppard in a surgical mask. "Hey, how's my favorite team doing?" The marines hopped to their feet, and Sheppard threw his hands up. "No, sorry, at ease. Relax, guys."
Schmitz pointed out the obvious, "Sir, you shouldn't be in here."
"Yeah, probably," he shrugged. "But Elizabeth said you guys were in quarantine, and I wanted to come and congratulate you."
"Congratulate us, on what?"
"On…getting in! My team's been in here four times already. Come on! It's like a club." Nobody smiled. "Huh, tough crowd. Well, hey. Just saying, I know how it gets in here. Every time I've been in here, it's driven me crazy. I mean, no books, no PlayStation, nothing. Just a lot of blame, and arguing with people who think they're smarter than me." That last part was muttered under his breath.
"And," Sheppard continued, brightly, "I always swear I'm gonna get some games in here, you know, for the next time. And I always forget. But since you're in here now, I figured you could use a little entertainment. So, here ya go," and he pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing a short stack of books.
"Thank God," Schmitz breathed, standing up. "Thank you, Colonel." He shifted on his feet, staring at the books.
"Sorry 'bout the selection. And some of the puzzles've already been used."
"Sir, any word on Major Lorne's condition?" Mueller asked.
The colonel shook his head, "I'm sorry, there's no word yet." Sheppard set the books on the floor and knocked on the glass door. "Hey, take it easy. Try to think of this as a vacation." He waved as the marine on guard opened the door to let him out.
Mueller and Chernowski saluted and Schmitz managed to wait until the door locked before pouncing on the stack.
"Deck of cards, The Old Man and the Sea, the book of the movie Jumangi-who brings a book of a movie!-some crossword puzzles…used, yeah, no kidding-"
"Cards!" Chernowski called, clapping his hands loudly. Schmitz tossed them without looking up from the small pile of distractions. David watched Mueller drag his chair over, and the two marines put their heads together, deciding on a game.
"Shakespeare, Frankenstein, Nora Roberts-heh, nice, where the hell'd he get these things? Oh God, yes!" Schmitz started flipping through the pages of a Su Doku book. "Please please please, yes! This is mine!" he announced triumphantly.
"Can I have the crossword puzzles?" David reluctantly asked. If the marines weren't going to make it a group card game, he'd have to find his own fun. Schmitz tossed the booklet onto David's bed and got comfortable on the floor, ignoring the last few books. "How about a pencil?"
"Pencil," Schmitz repeated, looking around obligingly. Then he snorted. "Apparently, we're back in kindergarten." He held up three thick crayons.
"No sharp objects for the crazies," David said. It was kind of funny, and kind of…not. He glanced at the marines; Chernowski hadn't noticed, but Mueller caught his eye. He wasn't laughing, either. "Give me the purple."
Schmitz rolled it across the floor and started dourly tapping his Su Doku book with the red one. "No pencils. Not even a pen. How am I supposed to do this with a crayon? This is inhumane. What's the matter with the Colonel-how hard can it be to find a pen in this city…"
Schmitz kept complaining for another five minutes. But at least he wasn't rubbing his hand.
~
Sheppard tossed some folders onto the table and took his seat next to Dr. Weir. "We've got some good news and some regular news. Which would you like first?"
Lorne shrugged, "Regular."
"Okay, then. We've got your team's roster for you. Elizabeth?"
Dr. Weir pulled the folders toward her and flipped the first one open. "Dr. Carter and I have agreed on a biology focus for the first set of missions. We've got two scientists arriving on the Daedalus next week, pre-selected for field work. SGC sent their bios in the latest data burst transmission. First, there's Dr. Angela Martinez. Dr. Martinez has two PhD's in macro-biology and ecosystems, and field experience in Cuba and Australia. She's coming from a tenured position at Holy Cross University in Texas-an excellent biology program there. Major?"
She spun the folder toward him and Lorne leaned forward to check out the file. Vital statistics, credentials, etc. The photo was the only thing he noticed. "Wow," he breathed. Big brown eyes, high cheekbones, thick lips…he glanced up at Colonel Sheppard who smirked and nodded. "She sounds highly qualified," Lorne guessed, tearing his eyes from the picture.
Dr. Weir agreed and opened another folder. "Second is Dr. David Parrish, with a PhD in botany from Stanford University and almost a decade of field work around the globe. Most recently he's been working on a grant from the Gates Foundation, doing research in Guatemala and Chile."
Lorne gave the file the requisite 10-second glance and nodded. "He'll be fine," he pronounced, as though he had a say. "So, a botanist and biologist?"
"Yeah, we're all gonna be calling you guys the B-Team by next week," Sheppard drawled.
"Oh, come on," Lorne laughed.
Weir frowned her disapproval and got the meeting back on topic. "Martinez and Parrish have already been briefed on the Pegasus Galaxy, and they have an idea of what to expect off-world. Your missions will consist of studying and gathering samples of alien flora and fauna to bring back to Atlantis. We've got an entire biology department coming in and we'll have to keep them busy. You'll be sent to worlds we've already explored, or that we know are uninhabited, to cut down on the risks to the scientists."
"It's a baby-sitting job," Sheppard jumped in, "but I don't have to tell you that it's dangerous out there. So watch your back, watch their backs, get the job done, and bring everybody home safe."
"Absolutely, Sir," Lorne nodded, pulling his thoughts away from the hot biologist to refocus on the responsibilities of leading a team through unknown territory.
"Now for some good news," the colonel continued. Lorne's ears perked up. "It's gonna be a team of four-two scientists, two marines. And you-you get to pick your wing man. Any marine on base, your choice."
Lorne's mind raced, picturing the full roster in his head. But one name jumped out, the name that counted. "Frank Mueller," he said firmly.
~
Quarantine only lasted four hours. Beckett came in and briefed them on Major Lorne's condition: still unconscious, but the toxin levels in his blood were rapidly decreasing. They expected him to be fully recovered in a few more hours, but planned to keep him for observation for another 24, just to be sure he was back to normal. As for the rest of the team, their blood work had come back clear-no exposure to the toxin, no contagions to worry about. They were free to go, and Beckett recommended they go to the mess hall for some dinner before it was cleared away.
When David turned left in the hallway instead of right, Chernowski said, "Not coming to the mess?"
It was a nice gesture, but David didn't think he could handle much more from the day. "No, I uh…I'm gonna get my prescriptions. And go to bed, I guess. Headache…." He gestured to his swollen face, and Chernowski looked concerned.
"You sure? You need any company or something?"
Embarrassed, David tried to laugh it off. "No way. Quarantine was enough company, thanks. I've just…had a rough day. I need a break."
Chernowski backed off. "Yeah. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"Yeah. Thanks," and David hurried off to the infirmary.
It had sounded like a good plan, getting his prescriptions, taking said prescriptions, and going to sleep. No better way to not-face the day. But when he entered the med lab he remembered Lorne, and he couldn't help peeking behind the privacy curtain to see the major…unconscious in a hospital gown, restraints on his arms and legs. Just in case? In case he went crazy again and stalked David through the halls of Atlantis?
Disturbed, the botanist let the curtain drop.
Beckett saw him from his open office door and came out with two pill bottles. "Dr. Beckett," he began, not sure what he wanted to say. About Lorne being restrained, wanting reassurance, nightmares, humiliation. He didn't know where to begin.
The doctor didn't wait for him to try. "Dr. Parrish. I've diagnosed Major Lorne's condition as a violent reaction to a neurotoxin-as you yourself described it, excellent job-through topical exposure. The condition is temporary, but extremely dangerous to the patient as well as those around him. Now, the exact details will be discussed with Dr. Weir…but if she's amenable, there should be no need to include the rest in the field report."
David let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you, Doctor."
"It's nothing at all. I'll have a private conversation with Elizabeth, and that'll be the end of it. I would recommend visiting with Dr. Heightmeyer, though."
"I'll…I think I'll do that," David agreed. He was surprised to realize he wasn't just willing-he was relieved by the suggestion.
Beckett smiled at him and handed over the pills. "Take the antibiotics every eight hours with water, and the aspirin as needed, no more than one at a time. And come back next week so I can look at those stitches."
David self-consciously touched the bandages on his lip. "Will do. Thank you again, Dr. Beckett. Really."
Back in his quarters, David finally looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His left eye was a phenomenally-dark red all around, with some purple just on the underside, and the bottom half of his nose was red and swollen. Lorne's work. He swallowed an aspirin and let the water run cold in the sink while he stripped and changed into a fresh pair of boxers. Then he soaked a washcloth to make a cool compress and took it back to the bunk.
There were flora samples in his gear, he suddenly remembered. He should have handed them over to the botany team as soon as he got out of quarantine, he thought, sinking guiltily onto the bed. He could still put in a call to Yushida or Rand, ask for a favor…fuck it. He'd had a bad day, and he was allowed to let the ball drop for once. Just for a few more hours, at least. David laid down, slapped the compress over his eye, and called it a day.
~
"Sloppy Joe and Mystery Mash almost make up for the hours in quarantine," Chernowski announced, heaping his plate high with the browned meat and tan vegetables. David wasn't around to laugh with him. Beside him, Schmitz didn't bother poking at the food this time. Chernowski guessed the biologist must be pretty worn down as he watched him load a plate.
"Should be prime rib, after the day we've had," Mueller grunted. "Or at least mashed potatoes. This stuff looks like crap." He bent his head to sniff at the serving spoon.
"What do you think it is?" Chernowski asked his teammates.
"I don't know. I'm not Parrish," Schmitz snapped, turning away to follow Mueller to a table.
The young marine heard the comment-so did a dozen other people in the mess. Chernowski finally noticed the stares they were getting. Apparently everybody had heard about the mission. Nothing for it, he thought, and forced himself to smile. By the time Chernowski reached their table, the stares had turned into hushed conversations around them.
Mueller took a few fast bites of the vegetables and looked up, catching Chernowski's eye. "Don't worry about them. Eat something."
Chernowski tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and tasted the meat. Not bad; better than most of the stuff he'd eaten for the past four months. On the next Daedalus delivery, they'd better bring in a qualified chef. The Athosians had obviously never cooked with garlic or vinegar before, and almost everything ended up bland and flavorless despite the fully-stocked pantry. He'd seen the spices unloaded from the Daedalus-he knew what they had to work with back there. It was like the universe's own practical joke at his expense, getting revenge for all the pranks he'd pulled on Schmitz. What he wouldn't give to have something spicy. Or pickled. God, pickles would be awesome.
"Hey, Mueller, Chernowski."
Chernowski looked up and greeted Lieutenant Dunnigan. Mueller nodded, but kept eating.
"How're you guys doing? I heard you were in quarantine."
"Yeah, just got out. Good times. Kind of a nice vacation, really. Right, Mueller?"
"Major Lorne's still in the infirmary?" Dunnigan's two friends came over, looking curious and concerned.
"Hey. Yeah, the doc said he'll be fine, they're just keeping him as a formality."
"What happened? I heard he went crazy and went all Chuck Norris on one of your scientists."
Chernowski nudged Mueller with his foot. The marine glanced up and set his fork aside, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, evidently content to let Chernowski keep handling the conversation. The young lieutenant muttered, "Thanks." Asshole. He smiled at the gathered soldiers and tried to laugh it off. "Let's just say the major found out he has a new allergy on M3X-474."
"What'd he do, eat some magic mushrooms?"
They laughed, and Chernowski nodded, going with it. "Pretty much. Probably got sick of field rations and decided to try a few berries for a change."
Sergeant Jensen came out of nowhere, throwing himself in front of Dunnigan's group. "Hey, wow, they let you out?" he exclaimed. "Are they sure you're okay? I mean, I'm glad you're okay. But they ran all the tests, right?"
It was getting crowded, and nothing drew a crowd like a crowd. Chernowski realized he felt as tired as Schmitz. "Yeah, Beckett ran all the tests. I promise we didn't bring back the plague or anything. It was a false alarm."
"Can we visit Major Lorne?" Dunnigan asked.
"This is the third quarantine in a month," Private Lynch complained from behind Dunnigan's shoulder. "At this rate, we're all gonna get some alien super-virus and be dead before Christmas."
Chernowski frowned at the top of her head and tried to lighten the mood. "You putting your money where your mouth is, Lynch? Cause my money's on Halloween." Somebody called for a new betting pool, there were interested shouts from some marines on the far side of the room, and Schmitz suddenly stood up.
Mueller and Chernowski looked at him, and he excused himself coldly, "I have to check in with my lab. And get a little air. Excuse me," and he glared at the group of soldiers until they stepped aside to let him pass. Chernowski craned his head around the group to see if Schmitz dumped his full tray, but the biologist took it with him out of the mess hall.
Mueller finally cleared his throat. "You guys, you know we can't talk about it until after the debrief. Thanks for your concern-I'll tell the major you said hi. But you're gonna have to hold the questions for a couple days, okay?"
There was general contrition and sympathy, and in only a few seconds their half of the mess was empty. Chernowski relaxed a little and jabbed his fork in the vegetables. "Thanks for doing that."
Mueller shoveled more food into his mouth and mumbled, "You talk too much."
"Hey!" Chernowski protested. "It's not like you helped or anything. Why didn't you say something? They're your friends." Mueller didn't answer. Chernowski spun his fork, watching it gather strands of stringy vegetable. After a minute he figured out what was really bothering him. "Schmittie was going at his hand again."
"I saw it," Mueller confirmed, his face blank.
Chernowski's lip curled up in a sneer. "You saw it," he echoed. "Look, I don't like him either, but you should show the guy a little sympathy."
Mueller stared him down. "When he's around, I'll be nice to him."
Chernowski huffed, realized he'd huffed, realized Mueller had a flawless argument, and ate some vegetables to keep his mouth shut. After a little bit he noticed how fast Mueller was eating; he'd almost cleaned his plate in under four minutes. Was he even tasting any of it? Because, seriously, it was pretty good today.
His wandering mind surprised him with a flashback to the afternoon, David's scream cut off too quick, Mueller unshouldering his rifle and taking off through the trees, the first rush of adrenaline. His skin prickled, he took a deep breath, and Mueller said, "Don't," before he'd realized he was going to speak.
"Hey," he said anyway, "about what happened…." Mueller gulped his water and stuffed the last lump of meat into his mouth. "It kind of looked-"
"I'm going to bed," Mueller cut him off, standing and picking up his empty tray. Still chewing.
Chernowski started to get up, angry.
"Drop it," Mueller ordered and left the mess hall.
The soldier sank back into the chair and stared at his beige food for a few minutes before throwing his napkin down and giving up. He slammed the door when he left.
~
"Major, just a moment!"
Lorne slowed and turned to see Dr. Weir hurrying toward him. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"I'm glad I ran into you, Major. I'm afraid there was some bad news in this morning's data burst."
Lorne stopped breathing. They were canceling the mission already? The scientists were supposed to arrive tomorrow-his team hadn't even gone off world yet. The brass wouldn't cancel his command without giving him a chance to prove himself, would they?
"Dr. Martinez is pregnant and had to back out of the expedition. They didn't correct it in last week's transmission. Dr. Carter apologizes for the oversight." Weir sighed, clearly upset by the mix-up. "We're going to have to assign you another biologist from the department. I'm sorry about the late change. I'll have Dr. McKay start reviewing the bios for the new arrivals and get you a name as soon as possible."
Lorne breathed again and smiled. "You had me scared for a minute, Ma'am. As long as the mission is still on, I don't mind the change, I promise you."
She complained for another minute about the problems of bureaucracy compounded by Top Secret classifications and assured him that there were many qualified candidates available to replace Dr. Martinez. Lorne just nodded to placate her, until she'd finished her rant and headed back to her office.
He honestly didn't care about the mix-up. As long as he got out into the field with a team of his own, it didn't matter what red tape he had to jump through. Although… "Too bad, Angela," he sighed, "I'll miss you." He continued on toward the jumper bay to help unload the deliveries from the mainland.
~
"Fucking marines, all of them. Fuck them," Schmitz muttered, sulking down the long hallway to the transporter. A pair of soldiers on rounds came out of a connecting corridor and nodded to him, and the scientist was so nervous they'd overheard his cursing that he stiffened up, arms shaking, and spilled his glass of water all over the tray. "Damn it!" he swore, stopping in place and glaring at the soggy mess that was his dinner. Behind him, he heard the marines laugh. Schmitz closed his eyes and seethed, fighting the urge to turn around and scream that it wasn't funny. He wasn't funny!
Once the first flush of anger passed, Schmitz left the tray on the floor and kept walking. Let someone else clean up the mess; he wasn't willing to go back to the cafeteria and face the crowd of Mueller and Chernowski's buddies. Jesus, not one word to him. Not one single, goddamned word. Not even a "Hey, Schmittie."
And that was one of the things that really got him mad. Fucking Schmittie. At the university they'd called him Professor Schmitz, or Doctor Schmitz, back when he was dealing with people whose IQs were higher than their push-up counts. And now he was working with jarheads who knotted his shoelaces, swiped the memory card out of his camera, put sand in his coffee, pointed out animals that weren't even there-all the fucking time-and had changed his name.
The nickname had spread further than his Gate Team; it was how all the marines in the city knew him, and some of his coworkers in the biology lab called him Schmittie without thinking. Dr. McKay had even used the nickname once in a mission briefing. His reputation in this galaxy was in a downward spiral, and there wasn't a thing Schmitz could do to stop it.
It was Chernowski's fault. The younger marine was the one who'd started the nickname; always trying to be the funny guy, the clown. He'd kept it up despite Schmitz's protests, and soon Mueller was using it, and even Major Lorne. His team leader thought of him as Schmittie. It had hurt more than he'd expected, hearing Lorne laugh when he'd slipped and fallen on the mud-slick, down the mud-bank, into the mud-bog on an early mission, his team leader reaching out a hand to help him up and calling him Schmittie. Fucking marines.
At least Dr. Parrish never called him Schmittie. It was hard to resent the botanist, since he was the only member of his Gate Team who respected him enough to use his proper name.
But who was Parrish to be so popular with the marines? Why did they all like him better? Parrish worked with stupid plants-couldn't they make fun of him once in a while? Wait…no, the soldiers in the cafeteria hadn't asked about Parrish. They only cared about Lorne, poor Major Lorne who'd gone insane and beaten the hell out of some scientist. They didn't care about any of the scientists, not even Parrish. Schmitz was surprised to realize that he…felt bad about that. Parrish had just had one of the worst days imaginable (second to M3V-145, of course). That should matter to somebody.
Schmitz stepped into the transporter and considered the buttons. Where would security have stashed their off-world gear? He should get his fecal samples to the lab before they started smelling up his backpack.
~
In the nightmare, hands were holding him down, holding his wrists and his ankles, and he couldn't move.
When he forced his eyes open to look for his team, for help, Lorne was blinded by a bright light that slowly resolved into sunlight reflecting off the shiny ceiling of the med lab. On the other side of a curtain, a woman was talking quietly. Someone coughed. A door opened and closed. "Say 'Ahhh.'" His nose itched. Lorne reached up to scratch his face-or tried to. Someone was holding him down…he shook off the groggy dream-memory and raised his head to see for himself. Straps. Restraints. He was restrained? Because he'd been violent….
And it all came back. Every god-damned second of it came back. At least he hoped that was all of it. The last thing he remembered was trying to unzip David's pants. If things had gone farther than that, well…maybe he didn't want to know about it. Evan firmly told that idea to shut the hell up.
Now that the effects of the pollen-it was the pollen, right?-had worn off, he knew exactly what he'd done, but he couldn't make sense of his actions. He remembered wanting to do all of it, but-and he searched his thoughts long and hard-he didn't want to do it again. Well, that was something. Trying to rape a man-a friend-was bad enough without the fear of being capable of doing it again.
But he'd done something even worse. He'd failed his command, attacked a subordinate. Christ, his greatest responsibility was to keep his team safe, and he'd…he'd been the one to turn on them. Lorne's stomach twisted and he knew he was going to be sick. "Nurse!" he shouted. "Nurse, I need a basin!"
The curtain was jerked back immediately and the nurse propped up his shoulders so he could throw up into a bowl. She wiped his face with a damp cloth when he was done, but he still felt nauseous. And that heavy knot in his stomach was back. "Is Dr. Beckett here? I'd like to see him," he rasped.
After a few moments, Dr. Beckett pulled the curtain all the way back and stood by his bedside. "How do you feel, Major?" he asked kindly.
"Awful. How'm I doing?"
Beckett smiled, "You're actually fine. The nausea is most likely a side effect of all the histamines we've pumped into you. But as for the neurotoxin in the pollen, that's all out of your system. Your blood's clean as a whistle."
Evan frowned, sorting out the information. "What was it?"
"Oh, a combination of chemicals that didn't agree with you. They were absorbed through your skin, traveled to your brain, and over-stimulated the amigdala-that's the part of your brain that controls the most basic emotions: anger, lust."
"David…is Parrish okay? What'd I do to him? I remember hitting him." At least twice, probably more. And biting. He'd been bleeding a lot. Evan blinked a few times to clear away the images.
"Dr. Parrish will be just fine. Nothing worse than a broken finger and a few stitches. I released him yesterday evening."
"You're sure? You checked him out completely?" Nothing worse than a broken finger. God, he hoped so.
"I'm sure."
Lorne heaved a sigh and let himself relax a little. "So how soon do I get out of here?"
Beckett frowned, "Not for a while, I'm afraid. We're keeping you for a full 24 hours' observation; you're with us for another 10."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not. But, since you're calm and rational this morning, I can remove the restraints and try to make you more comfortable." Beckett set to work and in a few moments Lorne was free to stretch his arms and legs...but not to leave the bed.
"Unbelievable," the major muttered, looking around the med lab. Today was going to be its own kind of hell. Not the throwing-away-your-career-by-assaulting-a-civilian kind, but still hell. "Can I get a computer or something? I may as well do my paperwork while I'm stuck here."
"Certainly-I can have yours brought from your quarters if you'd like."
"Yeah. Yes, thank you. I've gotta write this field report as soon as possible," he worried aloud, eyes widening as he listed in his head everything he would have to write down.
"Oh, that reminds me. I discussed the matter with Dr. Parrish and Dr. Weir, and I've agreed to omit the more personal aspects of the incident. There's no need for the sexual assault to go on record. My own report only refers to the aggression triggered by the presence of foreign toxins in your bloodstream."
Lorne's mouth went dry. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll…keep that in mind."
Beckett patted his knee. "Let the nurse know when you're ready to eat something," and he returned to his office.
Evan looked at the fists clenched in his lap. It would be so easy; just cover up the disgrace like it had never happened. Dr. Weir already knew, but her second-chance policy was more like a tenth or eleventh. She wouldn't mention it, ever. It wouldn't get back to Earth, it wouldn't be on his record. She would pretend it hadn't happened, because Weir didn't like to punish failure. "But that's what you are," he snarled at himself. "A failure." Of his first command. And if there was one thing he didn't deserve right now, it was a break. He ground his teeth and waited for his laptop to arrive.
~
Mueller stopped by just before lunchtime, and Lorne was relieved for the excuse to set aside the field report. Every awkward sentence he typed made his jaw ache.
"Major, how are you?" Mueller asked stiffly.
Oh good, more awkwardness. "I'm fine now. Just killing time 'til they let me go." Mueller nodded but didn't actually seem interested. There was clearly something on his mind, and Lorne wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. He was beating himself up enough about the mission. He didn't need his senior lieutenant chewing him out for it.
"Sir, I would like to apologize."
"For what?"
"Knocking you out yesterday, Sir. I regret doing that."
"Knocking me out…." Oh, thank god. That explained the blackout-and the lump on the back of his head. Mueller had hit him over the head. He really hadn't gotten any further than David's zipper…. Evan's mind shied away, back to safer ground. "No apologies needed, Mueller. I'm just glad you were there to have my back. And Parrish's." Mueller looked a little pained. "I'm fucking relieved you did what you did. Really. I don't think I can express how grateful I am knowing there's a soldier on the team I can count on to bash me in the head when I go screwy."
Mueller looked downright uncomfortable with the subject, but he didn't shift on his feet or look around the room.
"How's Parrish doing? How's the team?" Lorne asked, trying to change the subject.
"Haven't seen Parrish since quarantine last night. I think he's alright. And Chernowski's just a little keyed up, that's all."
"How 'bout Schmittie?" Evan couldn't care less, but as team leader, he had to ask.
Mueller frowned, seemed to think for a moment, and said, "Same as usual."
"Lucky him," Lorne sighed. For once, Schmitz wasn't the one in trouble or responsible for trouble. Today, that honor belonged to their team leader.
"I'm glad to see you're doing all right, Major. I'll see you at the debriefing tomorrow morning." Mueller abruptly nodded and backed away a few feet before turning his back and walking smartly out the door. Lorne watched him go, surprised. He knew Mueller was all business-he didn't talk much about personal stuff, ever-but even that seemed a little fast. It must have had something to do with the big would-be-rapist sign tattooed on his forehead. He glumly pulled the laptop toward him again. At least now he could fill in some holes in the mission report.
~
The debriefing wasn't for another half hour, but Lorne needed to think, and the conference room was as good a place as any. He sat still in the chair, using deep breathing to relax, trying to make the knot in his stomach untie. It wasn't working.
M4R-317 had been bad. Oh sure, it had turned out alright: a few more vine samples, a new species of gigantic flying reptile, Nobel Prizes and handshakes for everyone. But it could have been so bad.
If Lorne hadn't scouted ahead on his own, if Mueller hadn't been digging for Parrish's plants, if Schmitz hadn't gone near the nest…the whole mess wouldn't have happened. That was a lot of ifs. But they all started with the first: Major Evan Lorne.
He'd turned back when he heard the squawking, even before the thing with claws and scales flew back to the nest. By the time he'd reached the top of the hill, Schmitz was curled up on the ground with the thing shrieking over his head. Mueller was running and they'd both aimed their rifles and fired and fired and fired. But they hadn't been there when it started. He hadn't been where he was supposed to be. Only their third mission off-world, and he'd already gotten careless.
Evan's stomach lurched and he reminded himself to breathe deeply. He was damned lucky no one had been hurt, but luck wasn't good enough for a commander. He had to do better, do something different to make sure he didn't need luck to do his job. He knew he couldn't be everywhere at once, but a good leader should be able to… That was it! More eyes. If he couldn't be everywhere at once, then he needed somebody else to fill in the gaps. There weren't enough eyes on the team right now. He and Mueller could watch Parrish and Schmitz, but if they needed to do anything else, they left one of the scientists uncovered. Like Schmitz, today.
Lorne pulled out his laptop and added a quick addendum to his field report. If he could have just one more man, there would be enough eyes and guns to cover everyone. If Colonel Sheppard approved his recommendation, he wouldn't need luck. And nobody would get hurt. Lorne saved the changes and leaned back in his chair, relieved to have the problem fixed so easily.
So why couldn't he shake the heavy feeling in his stomach?
~
"Hey, Parrish, how's it going?" Chernowski called, knocking on the door frame.
David looked up, surprised and pleased to see him. "Hey! Come on in!"
"Back at work already?"
"Hmm. Trying, at any rate. It's impossible to type with this damn splint on." David shook the offending hand, trying to uncramp his thumb and forefinger.
"Yeah, I wouldn't know," Chernowski grinned, shoving papers aside so he could lean against the counter. "Didn't they give you a few days off?"
"'God and nature wait for no man.' Besides, I wanted to get my samples in the cooler before they started decomposing. Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
The botanist gestured at the refrigeration units and scientists over his shoulder. "For bringing my stuff down last night. The department was already working on it when I showed up this morning."
Chernowski shook his head. "Wasn't me. Sorry. I mean, I would've, if I'd thought of it."
David frowned. "I thought it was you. Mueller, maybe?"
"No way. Mueller's not that kind of guy," the marine smiled.
"Right," David agreed, and then they both frowned and looked toward their teammate's empty table. Schmitz? No, it couldn't be.... "Anyway," Parrish closed the subject quickly.
"Yeah. I was tracking you down to see how you're doing."
Parrish considered. "Really good, actually. Beckett gave me some great meds. I can't eat bagels for a few weeks, but I'm okay," he smiled as wide as he could stretch the stitches. He felt good-worlds better than the sulky, pathetic mess he'd been yesterday. "I've even got Dr. Yushida bringing me coffee-sympathy is a beautiful thing."
"Cool. You know the debriefing's tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah, Dr. Heightmeyer told me. I've got an appointment with her tomorrow afternoon."
"Huh," Chernowski grunted. "Have fun with that."
Parrish snorted and swatted the marine's thigh when he started crumpling a disorganized heap of papers.
"I just talked to Lorne in the med lab."
His smile faded. "How is he?"
"A-okay. Pissed they're making him stay a few more hours, but he seems back to normal."
Parrish thought about what that would look like. Normal. As if Lorne hadn't punched him. Or bitten him. Or straddled him and held him down. The same old Lorne: restless, annoying, normal. His hands clenched as he debated whether to go talk to him, to convince himself that things were okay again.
Chernowski shifted on the papers.
Parrish blinked and leaned back in his chair, staring at his laptop screen, considering. He knew he should go-of course he should; if he were really fine this shouldn't be a problem-but that pathetic mess from yesterday started worrying some more. Restraints, the halls of Atlantis….
He didn't notice when Chernowski left.
Part II
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 22,500 [complete]
Rating: R (violence, language)
Warning/Potential Trigger: attempted sexual assault
Spoilers: through 2.01 The Siege, Part III
Beta Thanks: to the formidable cinaea
Summary: While collecting flora and fauna samples on a routine off-world mission, something goes terribly wrong for Major Lorne's Gate Team. When they get back to Atlantis, the B-Team's soldiers and scientists have to deal with the fallout in a city that's still trying to recover from its own attack.
Part I | Part II | Part III
Most of the sample baggies were full by their second hour on M3X-474. Parrish hadn't stopped speaking into the voice recorder since they'd arrived, delighted with the new and diverse (he didn't like it when Lorne called it "alien") plant life. Schmitz was sulking; he'd dropped the Nikon digital camera and couldn't get it to work. Lorne imagined there'd be hell to pay from McKay when the biologist got back to Atlantis.
Everything was situation: normal so far. Sunshine, only one sun in the sky-he'd learned not to take the simple things for granted-good temperature, no wind, and unchallenging terrain. The woods they were exploring weren't too shadowy or dense, and so far all of the animal tracks were small. Lorne's guard was down and he'd been musing about the chewing-out Schmitz would get from the chiefs for breaking his third camera in as many months. That's why he didn't notice Parrish stooping down in front of him until he'd already walked into the back of him.
"Ouch!" Parrish yelped.
"Damn it," Evan swore as he toppled, catching his fall with one hand on the back of David's head and the other on a squishy green mess on the ground.
"Ow, seriously, get off!" Parrish protested, shoving away Lorne's hand.
"Sorry 'bout that," Lorne muttered, trying to regain his composure and latitude. "Ew," he scowled at his hand. "What is this stuff?"
Parrish looked up at him, pulled his hand down so he could see it better. "Lichen. Moss. Looks like the stuff on M3Y-30 and -118; harmless. But look at these flowers!"
Lorne looked down where David pointed. "Pretty. What do you think?"
"Definitely new to the catalog," David said, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his back pocket. He put his head right next to one and resumed speaking into the recorder, "Fully mature-thick yellow coating of pollen, short stalks, long petals…."
Lorne waved to Chernowski and called, "Parrish found something. I'll wait here, you two keep with Schmittie." Chernowski waved back, and he and Mueller followed Schmitz toward a brighter clearing up ahead.
Evan patrolled the area (not pacing, patrolling) and checked his watch and compass while Parrish droned in the quiet. He wiped the green stuff off on his pants. There was a really ugly bird call coming from up ahead, probably from a really ugly bird, and Schmitz was doubtless cursing about that broken camera again. It was getting warmer; he rubbed at the back of his neck. That's when he noticed the yellow pollen on his sleeve. He squinted at it-it kind of sparkled in the sunlight. But it wasn't just on the uniform.
Oh crap.
"Hey, Parrish, I got some of your pollen on me."
Parrish blinked up at him, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the upper canopy. "You did?"
"Yeah." Stay calm. Just like they'd practiced.
Parrish pocketed his recorder, stood up, and leaned over his arm to see. "Does it itch? Burn?"
"Nope. But I'm feeling really warm all of a sudden."
"Okay, okay, okay," Parrish picked up his backpack and pulled out the field first-aid kit. "Okay, let's get it off your skin and take your temperature. Under your tongue…."
Lorne put the thermometer under his tongue and tried to control his breathing. Panic wasn't going to help. He was used to this. They'd practiced this dozens of times since M3V-145. At least this plant didn't seem to have acid-sap.
He watched David pull out the SaniWipes to rub the pollen off his wrist. It felt cool and obscenely good. Lorne breathed deeply through his nose, and David looked at him sharply. He shook his head, but felt his heart racing way too fast, faster than mere adrenaline would've caused. Something was wrong. This wasn't panic; this was a definite reaction.
"I'd better get it off the uniform, too. Just in case." Parrish held his hand and dabbed at his sleeve, and Lorne felt dizzy. As if all the blood in his brain had just rushed to his cock, and, Jesus, what the fuck? "Major?" Parrish was sparkly, just like the pollen, Evan realized. He smiled. Parrish frowned. That wasn't good. "Major, how do you feel now?"
"Hmm-umm," he hummed worriedly, keeping his lips tightly closed around the thermometer.
Parrish released his hand and tucked the used SaniWipe into a sample baggie. "I'll do a full analysis of the pollen when we get back to Atlantis. Just to be sure there aren't any side-effects."
Lorne closed his eyes against the sparkle, but opened them when he felt himself swaying toward Parrish's voice.
"A few more seconds," David was holding the tip of the thermometer now, using his height advantage to read it without pulling it out. His fingers were inches from his lips.
Lorne's eyes rolled back in his head for a moment and he fisted his hands at his sides. His hips wanted to jerk forward, rub up against-
Parrish pulled out the thermometer and shook it twice. "I don't see…your temperature's a little high, but nothing serious. Your eyes…" and he stepped closer, putting his hands on Lorne's face and lifting up his eyelids. Evan tried not to blink. He tried not to lick his lips, either. "…are dilated-sorry, that probably hurt," Parrish said, letting go and pulling his hands away. "Do you think we should head back to Atlantis?"
And then they were kissing and woah, who knew David had it in him? Evan's hands were in the scientist's hair, and he was driving his tongue into his mouth and pulling him closer, mashing their lips together. And David was squirming-no, pushing-pushing away-and Lorne let go.
"Major!" Parrish gasped when he was free. "Stop it. I'm sorry, but I'm really…I'm not…I'm just not…"
To hell with being a gentleman. If David couldn't make a complete sentence then he didn't have anything worth saying. He grabbed him by the hair again and tried to kiss him, but Parrish shoved hard and got away.
"What's gotten into you?" Parrish demanded, angry now. "Cool the hell off and stop it. I'm not interested, okay? Unless this is some kind of freaky pollen-reaction-thing, just get over it."
Evan's blood boiled. Son of a bitch. Fucking tease. "Fucking tease," he growled and jumped forward, catching Parrish's arm when the taller man jerked back.
"Damn it, Lorne," he shouted, twisting in his grasp, "let go!"
Lorne shut him up with a right hook that sent him sprawling to the ground. David coughed, rolled over, coughed some more, and there was blood flowing from his nose. Which was bad. Something was still wrong.
"You broke my nose!" he gasped, and Lorne fell on him. David tried to jam his elbow in Lorne's face, so the marine punched him once in the gut and then again in the face.
Thank god David had finally shut up. Evan smiled and tugged at his collar again. Fucking hot out here. He ripped at his jacket for a few seconds before he remembered it was a zipper. He was having a hard time concentrating, but soon the jacket came off, and David was trapped between his knees, trying to roll to his side, dazed and gasping. Lorne pinned his shoulders to the dirt and dove in for another kiss. Bloody. Was that how David liked it? He bit down as hard as he could on the scientist's lower lip, and David screamed, writhing up against him. It felt unbelievable. Evan ground down with his hips and dragged his bloody mouth down to taste David's throat.
"Mueller," Parrish panted above him. "Mueller! Chernowski!" He was using his hands again, pushing at Evan's face, trying to get him to move away.
"Shut up!" Lorne snarled, knocking his hands aside and pulling at the scientist's jacket and shirt, pushing them up over his soft belly. "Yeah," he grunted, shoving one of his hands up under David's shirt, feeling the hot skin leap.
"Stop! Jesus, Chernowski! Fucking help! Get over he-"
Lorne punched him in his stomach again, silencing his screams with coughing. David swung at the side of his head, but he shrugged it off. Then the scientist attacked him with his fingers, clawing at his face with gloved hands, latex catching harmlessly against his skin. Evan pinned David's hands above his head and sprawled on top of him, more excited than he could bear. "You like it like this," he gloated, squeezing David's chin with one hand.
David flailed his legs, and Lorne rolled him over to immobilize him. With David trapped under him, coughing face down in the dirt, he could finally use his hands. Lorne fumbled with his fly; the zipper was easy, but the button was a pain in the ass, son of a bitch, and he ended up tearing the polyester-blend a little before it finally came undone. David was moaning under him, trying to push himself up. Lorne snarled and shoved his head back down, leaning on him while he reached around and fought with the taller man's zipper and goddamned button.
And that's when the lights went out.
~
"Damn it, what the Hell!" Mueller shouted between gasps, dropping his rifle on the ground next to Major Lorne's body.
"Get him off me," Parrish begged from underneath. Chernowski leapt to his aid, rolling Lorne off the botanist. Why the hell was there blood all over Lorne's face?
Parrish rolled over and there was a lot more blood on him. "What the hell happened?" Mueller demanded again, catching his breath. He'd just struck a superior officer. He was so screwed. But the way the scientist had been screaming….
"You alright? You wanna stand up?" Chernowski was asking. Parrish accepted his hand and let the marine pull him to his feet. Christ, he looked a mess.
"Did you kill him?" Parrish asked, glancing down at Lorne.
"No. But what the hell-"
Parrish coughed and held his stomach. His eye was swelling up, too. "We need to get back to Atlantis. Major Lorne may have been exposed to an… uh… neurotoxin. Something that caused a reaction. He needs medical treatment and analysis."
Chernowski looked up from Lorne, alarmed, but Mueller got himself back under control, cooled down, and nodded. New orders: extract the casualties. "Schmittie!" Mueller shouted, but the biologist was only a few yards away, his eyes widening as he approached the scene. "We're canceling and getting back to Atlantis. Here, take Parrish's gear." He scooped up the backpack and tossed it to him.
Schmitz caught it, muttered something about "fucking plants," and strapped it backward on his chest.
Chernowski had Lorne up in a fireman's carry already. Parrish still looked like a wreck. Neurotoxins. Right. Not his problem; he just had to get them back to Atlantis. Mueller picked up the first-aid kit and Lorne's jacket, and lead the major's team back to the Gate.
~
"Come in, Lieutenant," Dr. Weir called, looking up from her laptop screen. Lorne stepped into the office, nodding to Weir and Colonel Sheppard. "Please, have a seat."
Lorne pulled off his beret and sat in the first empty chair. "Thank you, Ma'am. Colonel."
"Lieutenant," she began with a smile, "I asked you here because we've decided to resume exploring the Pegasus Galaxy and we need good men to send off-world."
Lorne's stomach dropped and his skin crawled. That was good, great, off-world missions, getting everything back to normal…except 'normal' had attracted the Wraith two months ago. Going back out there could draw more attacks on the city, and they were hardly in a position to fend off another assault….
"We'd like to invite you to join the Gate Team program," she continued. "Colonel Sheppard and I've reviewed your file, and we agree; your exemplary performance during the Wraith invasion makes you one of the most qualified officers in the city." Weir raised her eyebrows when he remained silent. "Thoughts, Lieutenant?"
Evan cleared his throat nervously. "Ah, Ma'am, are you sure that's…the best course of action? Sending out more missions? Shouldn't we be focusing on fortifying Atlantis against another attack?"
Sheppard leaned forward, sarcasm conveying more disapproval than his frown when he answered, "We're already working on security, Lieutenant. It hasn't dropped off the priority list."
Shit, that was out of bounds. "Of course, Sir. I wasn't saying you had-"
"And in case you've forgotten," he cut him off sharply, "this is still a civilian-run scientific expedition. It's about time we actually performed that mission." A wry smile slipped past the colonel's scowl. "Before they cut our funding."
"Yes, Sir," Evan agreed, dutifully turning his attention back to Dr. Weir.
"Colonel Sheppard will take his team back out to make contact with our neighbors and try to find a working ZPM. I'm proposing to form a second team, one for strictly scientific inquiry. The colonel has recommended you to lead that team."
Lorne's heart rate jumped and he fought back a smile. A command. Not just off-world, but a fucking command! "That would be…. I'd be honored, ma'am," he said earnestly, humbled. Out of dozens of marines in Atlantis, he'd been chosen for a command. It felt like winning the lottery.
"Of course, you'll need a promotion. How does 'Major Lorne' sound?" Sheppard asked, a smile cracking his formal demeanor.
Evan couldn't hold back his own smile any longer. "It sounds great! Sir," he barely remembered to add.
Sheppard stood up, followed by Weir. Lorne jumped up, too. "Then congratulations, Major," the colonel shook his hand. "Good to have you on the team. We'll let you know more details as we work them out."
"Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Ma'am," Lorne beamed, turning to shake Weir's hand.
"Congratulations," she murmured, and sat back down.
Lorne saluted them both and stepped smartly out of the office, a bounce in his step. Major Lorne. A command. He let the feeling of success sink in, savoring it.
~
Weir was waiting with Dr. Beckett and a security unit when Mueller led his team through the iris. Beckett's masked- and gloved quarantine team leapt forward, pulling the major off Chernowski's shoulders and onto a gurney.
"What happened," Dr. Weir asked him, somehow conveying concern and urgency simultaneously.
Mueller did his duty as ranking lieutenant, stepping up with the most perfect salute he could muster. "We're not entirely sure, Ma'am. Major Lorne attacked Dr. Parrish and I was forced to incapacitate him."
"Are you all right, Doctor?" Weir asked, looking the tall scientist up and down.
Parrish pulled a square of gauze away from his lips and spat a bit of blood into his hand. "I guess. I could be worse," he shrugged, then cleared his throat. "Major Lorne was exposed to an unknown pollen before he," his eyes flickered toward Mueller for an instant, "attacked. It's possible it contained a toxin of some kind." He dabbed at his lip again.
Mueller read the dread of another city-wide outbreak on Weir's overly-expressive face before she covered it. "We've prepared the quarantine measures you recommended. You still think quarantine is necessary?"
Parrish turned his head and watched the doctors wheel the major out of the room. "I think…I think Dr. Beckett should assess the situation. Ma'am."
"All right. Sergeant Bates, please escort Dr. Parrish and the others to med lab and quarantine. Gentlemen, your weapons?"
Mueller nodded to Chernowski and handed over his rifle, sidearm, and field knife to his fellow marines. If any of them wanted to offer him a sympathetic look, he didn't meet their eyes long enough to see it. The last thing he needed was someone asking him questions.
~
"Right, what can you tell me about this pollen, Doctor?"
Parrish slowed as Dr. Beckett fell into step beside him. "I've got a sample here." He pulled the baggie from his pocket and handed it over.
"Good man," Beckett smiled. "We'll know exactly what we're dealing with soon enough. How about Major Lorne's symptoms? Can you give me any details? How the reaction presented itself?"
Parrish gulped. "He…uh…first he complained of heat. His temperature was slightly elevated and his pupils were dilated."
"Right." Beckett waited for more.
Parrish looked around at the security escort and lowered his voice. "He became aggressive."
"Aggression. Yeah, I can see he did," the physician agreed. "Anything else?"
"Dr. Beckett, do you think-" Parrish lost a step and started over slowly. "Dr. Beckett, there are some details that…might be better left out of the mission report."
Beckett squinted at him impatiently, "Time may be of the essence, Dr. Parrish. Now, if you please?"
Parrish sighed. "Major Lorne was…aroused during the assault," he admitted.
Beckett nodded his head, "Aggression, arousal. What else?"
Parrish didn't know what to say. "Well that's…it."
"That's it?" Beckett squinted at him again. "You're sure?"
Parrish was thrown off by Beckett's blasé reaction. "Yes. That's everything. But…that last part might be embarrassing for the team," he quickly added, "so…if you could leave that part out of your report, I'd-we'd-greatly appreciate it."
The doctor cocked his head at him and sighed loudly, "All right. Depending on the nature of this reaction and any contagions you may have been exposed to…I might make a recommendation to Dr. Weir about what to put in an official report. But you know, doctor, if that's all it takes to make you blush, you haven't been through the Gate enough. You wouldn't believe half the conditions Colonel Sheppard's team has contracted." Parrish stared after him as the chief medical officer laughed and hurried ahead to the med lab.
~
He tried to be rational about it. Of course Dr. Beckett's expertise was needed to treat Major Lorne's mysterious and potentially-life-threatening condition. And the other doctors were needed to run the tests, and maintain sterility, and offer suggestions, and observe for educational purposes…. But that left Parrish in the hands of one lone nurse. He was the one with the broken nose, damn it! And all right, it wasn't technically broken, but they hadn't known that until after the x-ray. Regardless, he was the one who'd been used as a punching bag. He'd assumed that entitled him to a little extra attention. Some hand-holding, maybe. But no, the top minds in the infirmary were needed to diagnose his attacker. For the common good, he reminded himself again. And he didn't want Lorne to suffer any permanent injuries for something that wasn't his fault. He was just…pissed off. And shaken. And hurting. And humiliated.
He stuck out his lip so Nurse Cooper could spray it with cortisone, cauterize the inside, and put five stitches and two butterfly bandages on the outside. He held out his hand, making sure it didn't shake while she splinted his broken ring-finger, and sighed with relief when she handed him an ice-pack for his swollen eye. And he swallowed the antibiotics and painkillers she gave him and followed her down the hall to the quarantine cell, all without one complaint. Spoken aloud.
Parrish stepped into the room, thanked the nurse, and listened to the door lock behind him. He turned to face the small white room-four beds, two chairs, three teammates. The chairs were taken by the marines.
"Hey, Doc," Chernowski greeted him with a sympathetic grimace. "How you doin'?"
He sat on an empty bed. "I'll be fine in a few weeks. Worst part's my broken finger. Wanna see?" He gamely raised his right hand and folded down all but the middle and ring fingers. "They're taped together, so it's not quite the right effect…but you know what I mean," he smirked.
Chernowski laughed, "Good to see you, too, Doc."
"What about the major?" Mueller muttered, chin down on his chest.
"I don't know. They're still doing tests," he shrugged. Mueller flicked some dirt out from under a nail. Parrish bounced his heel on the floor. "Lieutenant…thanks."
"Don't mention it," Mueller muttered and shifted in his chair.
They sat in silence for the next 30 minutes-well, silence once he'd convinced Schmitz to drop McKay's elitist prime/not-prime game. Chernowski actually gave him a thumbs up when Schmitz finally shut up. David stretched out on the bed and wished he had something else to do besides lie there feeling achy and embarrassed. And watch Schmitz rub at the back of his left hand.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened on Colonel Sheppard in a surgical mask. "Hey, how's my favorite team doing?" The marines hopped to their feet, and Sheppard threw his hands up. "No, sorry, at ease. Relax, guys."
Schmitz pointed out the obvious, "Sir, you shouldn't be in here."
"Yeah, probably," he shrugged. "But Elizabeth said you guys were in quarantine, and I wanted to come and congratulate you."
"Congratulate us, on what?"
"On…getting in! My team's been in here four times already. Come on! It's like a club." Nobody smiled. "Huh, tough crowd. Well, hey. Just saying, I know how it gets in here. Every time I've been in here, it's driven me crazy. I mean, no books, no PlayStation, nothing. Just a lot of blame, and arguing with people who think they're smarter than me." That last part was muttered under his breath.
"And," Sheppard continued, brightly, "I always swear I'm gonna get some games in here, you know, for the next time. And I always forget. But since you're in here now, I figured you could use a little entertainment. So, here ya go," and he pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing a short stack of books.
"Thank God," Schmitz breathed, standing up. "Thank you, Colonel." He shifted on his feet, staring at the books.
"Sorry 'bout the selection. And some of the puzzles've already been used."
"Sir, any word on Major Lorne's condition?" Mueller asked.
The colonel shook his head, "I'm sorry, there's no word yet." Sheppard set the books on the floor and knocked on the glass door. "Hey, take it easy. Try to think of this as a vacation." He waved as the marine on guard opened the door to let him out.
Mueller and Chernowski saluted and Schmitz managed to wait until the door locked before pouncing on the stack.
"Deck of cards, The Old Man and the Sea, the book of the movie Jumangi-who brings a book of a movie!-some crossword puzzles…used, yeah, no kidding-"
"Cards!" Chernowski called, clapping his hands loudly. Schmitz tossed them without looking up from the small pile of distractions. David watched Mueller drag his chair over, and the two marines put their heads together, deciding on a game.
"Shakespeare, Frankenstein, Nora Roberts-heh, nice, where the hell'd he get these things? Oh God, yes!" Schmitz started flipping through the pages of a Su Doku book. "Please please please, yes! This is mine!" he announced triumphantly.
"Can I have the crossword puzzles?" David reluctantly asked. If the marines weren't going to make it a group card game, he'd have to find his own fun. Schmitz tossed the booklet onto David's bed and got comfortable on the floor, ignoring the last few books. "How about a pencil?"
"Pencil," Schmitz repeated, looking around obligingly. Then he snorted. "Apparently, we're back in kindergarten." He held up three thick crayons.
"No sharp objects for the crazies," David said. It was kind of funny, and kind of…not. He glanced at the marines; Chernowski hadn't noticed, but Mueller caught his eye. He wasn't laughing, either. "Give me the purple."
Schmitz rolled it across the floor and started dourly tapping his Su Doku book with the red one. "No pencils. Not even a pen. How am I supposed to do this with a crayon? This is inhumane. What's the matter with the Colonel-how hard can it be to find a pen in this city…"
Schmitz kept complaining for another five minutes. But at least he wasn't rubbing his hand.
~
Sheppard tossed some folders onto the table and took his seat next to Dr. Weir. "We've got some good news and some regular news. Which would you like first?"
Lorne shrugged, "Regular."
"Okay, then. We've got your team's roster for you. Elizabeth?"
Dr. Weir pulled the folders toward her and flipped the first one open. "Dr. Carter and I have agreed on a biology focus for the first set of missions. We've got two scientists arriving on the Daedalus next week, pre-selected for field work. SGC sent their bios in the latest data burst transmission. First, there's Dr. Angela Martinez. Dr. Martinez has two PhD's in macro-biology and ecosystems, and field experience in Cuba and Australia. She's coming from a tenured position at Holy Cross University in Texas-an excellent biology program there. Major?"
She spun the folder toward him and Lorne leaned forward to check out the file. Vital statistics, credentials, etc. The photo was the only thing he noticed. "Wow," he breathed. Big brown eyes, high cheekbones, thick lips…he glanced up at Colonel Sheppard who smirked and nodded. "She sounds highly qualified," Lorne guessed, tearing his eyes from the picture.
Dr. Weir agreed and opened another folder. "Second is Dr. David Parrish, with a PhD in botany from Stanford University and almost a decade of field work around the globe. Most recently he's been working on a grant from the Gates Foundation, doing research in Guatemala and Chile."
Lorne gave the file the requisite 10-second glance and nodded. "He'll be fine," he pronounced, as though he had a say. "So, a botanist and biologist?"
"Yeah, we're all gonna be calling you guys the B-Team by next week," Sheppard drawled.
"Oh, come on," Lorne laughed.
Weir frowned her disapproval and got the meeting back on topic. "Martinez and Parrish have already been briefed on the Pegasus Galaxy, and they have an idea of what to expect off-world. Your missions will consist of studying and gathering samples of alien flora and fauna to bring back to Atlantis. We've got an entire biology department coming in and we'll have to keep them busy. You'll be sent to worlds we've already explored, or that we know are uninhabited, to cut down on the risks to the scientists."
"It's a baby-sitting job," Sheppard jumped in, "but I don't have to tell you that it's dangerous out there. So watch your back, watch their backs, get the job done, and bring everybody home safe."
"Absolutely, Sir," Lorne nodded, pulling his thoughts away from the hot biologist to refocus on the responsibilities of leading a team through unknown territory.
"Now for some good news," the colonel continued. Lorne's ears perked up. "It's gonna be a team of four-two scientists, two marines. And you-you get to pick your wing man. Any marine on base, your choice."
Lorne's mind raced, picturing the full roster in his head. But one name jumped out, the name that counted. "Frank Mueller," he said firmly.
~
Quarantine only lasted four hours. Beckett came in and briefed them on Major Lorne's condition: still unconscious, but the toxin levels in his blood were rapidly decreasing. They expected him to be fully recovered in a few more hours, but planned to keep him for observation for another 24, just to be sure he was back to normal. As for the rest of the team, their blood work had come back clear-no exposure to the toxin, no contagions to worry about. They were free to go, and Beckett recommended they go to the mess hall for some dinner before it was cleared away.
When David turned left in the hallway instead of right, Chernowski said, "Not coming to the mess?"
It was a nice gesture, but David didn't think he could handle much more from the day. "No, I uh…I'm gonna get my prescriptions. And go to bed, I guess. Headache…." He gestured to his swollen face, and Chernowski looked concerned.
"You sure? You need any company or something?"
Embarrassed, David tried to laugh it off. "No way. Quarantine was enough company, thanks. I've just…had a rough day. I need a break."
Chernowski backed off. "Yeah. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"Yeah. Thanks," and David hurried off to the infirmary.
It had sounded like a good plan, getting his prescriptions, taking said prescriptions, and going to sleep. No better way to not-face the day. But when he entered the med lab he remembered Lorne, and he couldn't help peeking behind the privacy curtain to see the major…unconscious in a hospital gown, restraints on his arms and legs. Just in case? In case he went crazy again and stalked David through the halls of Atlantis?
Disturbed, the botanist let the curtain drop.
Beckett saw him from his open office door and came out with two pill bottles. "Dr. Beckett," he began, not sure what he wanted to say. About Lorne being restrained, wanting reassurance, nightmares, humiliation. He didn't know where to begin.
The doctor didn't wait for him to try. "Dr. Parrish. I've diagnosed Major Lorne's condition as a violent reaction to a neurotoxin-as you yourself described it, excellent job-through topical exposure. The condition is temporary, but extremely dangerous to the patient as well as those around him. Now, the exact details will be discussed with Dr. Weir…but if she's amenable, there should be no need to include the rest in the field report."
David let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you, Doctor."
"It's nothing at all. I'll have a private conversation with Elizabeth, and that'll be the end of it. I would recommend visiting with Dr. Heightmeyer, though."
"I'll…I think I'll do that," David agreed. He was surprised to realize he wasn't just willing-he was relieved by the suggestion.
Beckett smiled at him and handed over the pills. "Take the antibiotics every eight hours with water, and the aspirin as needed, no more than one at a time. And come back next week so I can look at those stitches."
David self-consciously touched the bandages on his lip. "Will do. Thank you again, Dr. Beckett. Really."
Back in his quarters, David finally looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His left eye was a phenomenally-dark red all around, with some purple just on the underside, and the bottom half of his nose was red and swollen. Lorne's work. He swallowed an aspirin and let the water run cold in the sink while he stripped and changed into a fresh pair of boxers. Then he soaked a washcloth to make a cool compress and took it back to the bunk.
There were flora samples in his gear, he suddenly remembered. He should have handed them over to the botany team as soon as he got out of quarantine, he thought, sinking guiltily onto the bed. He could still put in a call to Yushida or Rand, ask for a favor…fuck it. He'd had a bad day, and he was allowed to let the ball drop for once. Just for a few more hours, at least. David laid down, slapped the compress over his eye, and called it a day.
~
"Sloppy Joe and Mystery Mash almost make up for the hours in quarantine," Chernowski announced, heaping his plate high with the browned meat and tan vegetables. David wasn't around to laugh with him. Beside him, Schmitz didn't bother poking at the food this time. Chernowski guessed the biologist must be pretty worn down as he watched him load a plate.
"Should be prime rib, after the day we've had," Mueller grunted. "Or at least mashed potatoes. This stuff looks like crap." He bent his head to sniff at the serving spoon.
"What do you think it is?" Chernowski asked his teammates.
"I don't know. I'm not Parrish," Schmitz snapped, turning away to follow Mueller to a table.
The young marine heard the comment-so did a dozen other people in the mess. Chernowski finally noticed the stares they were getting. Apparently everybody had heard about the mission. Nothing for it, he thought, and forced himself to smile. By the time Chernowski reached their table, the stares had turned into hushed conversations around them.
Mueller took a few fast bites of the vegetables and looked up, catching Chernowski's eye. "Don't worry about them. Eat something."
Chernowski tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and tasted the meat. Not bad; better than most of the stuff he'd eaten for the past four months. On the next Daedalus delivery, they'd better bring in a qualified chef. The Athosians had obviously never cooked with garlic or vinegar before, and almost everything ended up bland and flavorless despite the fully-stocked pantry. He'd seen the spices unloaded from the Daedalus-he knew what they had to work with back there. It was like the universe's own practical joke at his expense, getting revenge for all the pranks he'd pulled on Schmitz. What he wouldn't give to have something spicy. Or pickled. God, pickles would be awesome.
"Hey, Mueller, Chernowski."
Chernowski looked up and greeted Lieutenant Dunnigan. Mueller nodded, but kept eating.
"How're you guys doing? I heard you were in quarantine."
"Yeah, just got out. Good times. Kind of a nice vacation, really. Right, Mueller?"
"Major Lorne's still in the infirmary?" Dunnigan's two friends came over, looking curious and concerned.
"Hey. Yeah, the doc said he'll be fine, they're just keeping him as a formality."
"What happened? I heard he went crazy and went all Chuck Norris on one of your scientists."
Chernowski nudged Mueller with his foot. The marine glanced up and set his fork aside, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, evidently content to let Chernowski keep handling the conversation. The young lieutenant muttered, "Thanks." Asshole. He smiled at the gathered soldiers and tried to laugh it off. "Let's just say the major found out he has a new allergy on M3X-474."
"What'd he do, eat some magic mushrooms?"
They laughed, and Chernowski nodded, going with it. "Pretty much. Probably got sick of field rations and decided to try a few berries for a change."
Sergeant Jensen came out of nowhere, throwing himself in front of Dunnigan's group. "Hey, wow, they let you out?" he exclaimed. "Are they sure you're okay? I mean, I'm glad you're okay. But they ran all the tests, right?"
It was getting crowded, and nothing drew a crowd like a crowd. Chernowski realized he felt as tired as Schmitz. "Yeah, Beckett ran all the tests. I promise we didn't bring back the plague or anything. It was a false alarm."
"Can we visit Major Lorne?" Dunnigan asked.
"This is the third quarantine in a month," Private Lynch complained from behind Dunnigan's shoulder. "At this rate, we're all gonna get some alien super-virus and be dead before Christmas."
Chernowski frowned at the top of her head and tried to lighten the mood. "You putting your money where your mouth is, Lynch? Cause my money's on Halloween." Somebody called for a new betting pool, there were interested shouts from some marines on the far side of the room, and Schmitz suddenly stood up.
Mueller and Chernowski looked at him, and he excused himself coldly, "I have to check in with my lab. And get a little air. Excuse me," and he glared at the group of soldiers until they stepped aside to let him pass. Chernowski craned his head around the group to see if Schmitz dumped his full tray, but the biologist took it with him out of the mess hall.
Mueller finally cleared his throat. "You guys, you know we can't talk about it until after the debrief. Thanks for your concern-I'll tell the major you said hi. But you're gonna have to hold the questions for a couple days, okay?"
There was general contrition and sympathy, and in only a few seconds their half of the mess was empty. Chernowski relaxed a little and jabbed his fork in the vegetables. "Thanks for doing that."
Mueller shoveled more food into his mouth and mumbled, "You talk too much."
"Hey!" Chernowski protested. "It's not like you helped or anything. Why didn't you say something? They're your friends." Mueller didn't answer. Chernowski spun his fork, watching it gather strands of stringy vegetable. After a minute he figured out what was really bothering him. "Schmittie was going at his hand again."
"I saw it," Mueller confirmed, his face blank.
Chernowski's lip curled up in a sneer. "You saw it," he echoed. "Look, I don't like him either, but you should show the guy a little sympathy."
Mueller stared him down. "When he's around, I'll be nice to him."
Chernowski huffed, realized he'd huffed, realized Mueller had a flawless argument, and ate some vegetables to keep his mouth shut. After a little bit he noticed how fast Mueller was eating; he'd almost cleaned his plate in under four minutes. Was he even tasting any of it? Because, seriously, it was pretty good today.
His wandering mind surprised him with a flashback to the afternoon, David's scream cut off too quick, Mueller unshouldering his rifle and taking off through the trees, the first rush of adrenaline. His skin prickled, he took a deep breath, and Mueller said, "Don't," before he'd realized he was going to speak.
"Hey," he said anyway, "about what happened…." Mueller gulped his water and stuffed the last lump of meat into his mouth. "It kind of looked-"
"I'm going to bed," Mueller cut him off, standing and picking up his empty tray. Still chewing.
Chernowski started to get up, angry.
"Drop it," Mueller ordered and left the mess hall.
The soldier sank back into the chair and stared at his beige food for a few minutes before throwing his napkin down and giving up. He slammed the door when he left.
~
"Major, just a moment!"
Lorne slowed and turned to see Dr. Weir hurrying toward him. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"I'm glad I ran into you, Major. I'm afraid there was some bad news in this morning's data burst."
Lorne stopped breathing. They were canceling the mission already? The scientists were supposed to arrive tomorrow-his team hadn't even gone off world yet. The brass wouldn't cancel his command without giving him a chance to prove himself, would they?
"Dr. Martinez is pregnant and had to back out of the expedition. They didn't correct it in last week's transmission. Dr. Carter apologizes for the oversight." Weir sighed, clearly upset by the mix-up. "We're going to have to assign you another biologist from the department. I'm sorry about the late change. I'll have Dr. McKay start reviewing the bios for the new arrivals and get you a name as soon as possible."
Lorne breathed again and smiled. "You had me scared for a minute, Ma'am. As long as the mission is still on, I don't mind the change, I promise you."
She complained for another minute about the problems of bureaucracy compounded by Top Secret classifications and assured him that there were many qualified candidates available to replace Dr. Martinez. Lorne just nodded to placate her, until she'd finished her rant and headed back to her office.
He honestly didn't care about the mix-up. As long as he got out into the field with a team of his own, it didn't matter what red tape he had to jump through. Although… "Too bad, Angela," he sighed, "I'll miss you." He continued on toward the jumper bay to help unload the deliveries from the mainland.
~
"Fucking marines, all of them. Fuck them," Schmitz muttered, sulking down the long hallway to the transporter. A pair of soldiers on rounds came out of a connecting corridor and nodded to him, and the scientist was so nervous they'd overheard his cursing that he stiffened up, arms shaking, and spilled his glass of water all over the tray. "Damn it!" he swore, stopping in place and glaring at the soggy mess that was his dinner. Behind him, he heard the marines laugh. Schmitz closed his eyes and seethed, fighting the urge to turn around and scream that it wasn't funny. He wasn't funny!
Once the first flush of anger passed, Schmitz left the tray on the floor and kept walking. Let someone else clean up the mess; he wasn't willing to go back to the cafeteria and face the crowd of Mueller and Chernowski's buddies. Jesus, not one word to him. Not one single, goddamned word. Not even a "Hey, Schmittie."
And that was one of the things that really got him mad. Fucking Schmittie. At the university they'd called him Professor Schmitz, or Doctor Schmitz, back when he was dealing with people whose IQs were higher than their push-up counts. And now he was working with jarheads who knotted his shoelaces, swiped the memory card out of his camera, put sand in his coffee, pointed out animals that weren't even there-all the fucking time-and had changed his name.
The nickname had spread further than his Gate Team; it was how all the marines in the city knew him, and some of his coworkers in the biology lab called him Schmittie without thinking. Dr. McKay had even used the nickname once in a mission briefing. His reputation in this galaxy was in a downward spiral, and there wasn't a thing Schmitz could do to stop it.
It was Chernowski's fault. The younger marine was the one who'd started the nickname; always trying to be the funny guy, the clown. He'd kept it up despite Schmitz's protests, and soon Mueller was using it, and even Major Lorne. His team leader thought of him as Schmittie. It had hurt more than he'd expected, hearing Lorne laugh when he'd slipped and fallen on the mud-slick, down the mud-bank, into the mud-bog on an early mission, his team leader reaching out a hand to help him up and calling him Schmittie. Fucking marines.
At least Dr. Parrish never called him Schmittie. It was hard to resent the botanist, since he was the only member of his Gate Team who respected him enough to use his proper name.
But who was Parrish to be so popular with the marines? Why did they all like him better? Parrish worked with stupid plants-couldn't they make fun of him once in a while? Wait…no, the soldiers in the cafeteria hadn't asked about Parrish. They only cared about Lorne, poor Major Lorne who'd gone insane and beaten the hell out of some scientist. They didn't care about any of the scientists, not even Parrish. Schmitz was surprised to realize that he…felt bad about that. Parrish had just had one of the worst days imaginable (second to M3V-145, of course). That should matter to somebody.
Schmitz stepped into the transporter and considered the buttons. Where would security have stashed their off-world gear? He should get his fecal samples to the lab before they started smelling up his backpack.
~
In the nightmare, hands were holding him down, holding his wrists and his ankles, and he couldn't move.
When he forced his eyes open to look for his team, for help, Lorne was blinded by a bright light that slowly resolved into sunlight reflecting off the shiny ceiling of the med lab. On the other side of a curtain, a woman was talking quietly. Someone coughed. A door opened and closed. "Say 'Ahhh.'" His nose itched. Lorne reached up to scratch his face-or tried to. Someone was holding him down…he shook off the groggy dream-memory and raised his head to see for himself. Straps. Restraints. He was restrained? Because he'd been violent….
And it all came back. Every god-damned second of it came back. At least he hoped that was all of it. The last thing he remembered was trying to unzip David's pants. If things had gone farther than that, well…maybe he didn't want to know about it. Evan firmly told that idea to shut the hell up.
Now that the effects of the pollen-it was the pollen, right?-had worn off, he knew exactly what he'd done, but he couldn't make sense of his actions. He remembered wanting to do all of it, but-and he searched his thoughts long and hard-he didn't want to do it again. Well, that was something. Trying to rape a man-a friend-was bad enough without the fear of being capable of doing it again.
But he'd done something even worse. He'd failed his command, attacked a subordinate. Christ, his greatest responsibility was to keep his team safe, and he'd…he'd been the one to turn on them. Lorne's stomach twisted and he knew he was going to be sick. "Nurse!" he shouted. "Nurse, I need a basin!"
The curtain was jerked back immediately and the nurse propped up his shoulders so he could throw up into a bowl. She wiped his face with a damp cloth when he was done, but he still felt nauseous. And that heavy knot in his stomach was back. "Is Dr. Beckett here? I'd like to see him," he rasped.
After a few moments, Dr. Beckett pulled the curtain all the way back and stood by his bedside. "How do you feel, Major?" he asked kindly.
"Awful. How'm I doing?"
Beckett smiled, "You're actually fine. The nausea is most likely a side effect of all the histamines we've pumped into you. But as for the neurotoxin in the pollen, that's all out of your system. Your blood's clean as a whistle."
Evan frowned, sorting out the information. "What was it?"
"Oh, a combination of chemicals that didn't agree with you. They were absorbed through your skin, traveled to your brain, and over-stimulated the amigdala-that's the part of your brain that controls the most basic emotions: anger, lust."
"David…is Parrish okay? What'd I do to him? I remember hitting him." At least twice, probably more. And biting. He'd been bleeding a lot. Evan blinked a few times to clear away the images.
"Dr. Parrish will be just fine. Nothing worse than a broken finger and a few stitches. I released him yesterday evening."
"You're sure? You checked him out completely?" Nothing worse than a broken finger. God, he hoped so.
"I'm sure."
Lorne heaved a sigh and let himself relax a little. "So how soon do I get out of here?"
Beckett frowned, "Not for a while, I'm afraid. We're keeping you for a full 24 hours' observation; you're with us for another 10."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not. But, since you're calm and rational this morning, I can remove the restraints and try to make you more comfortable." Beckett set to work and in a few moments Lorne was free to stretch his arms and legs...but not to leave the bed.
"Unbelievable," the major muttered, looking around the med lab. Today was going to be its own kind of hell. Not the throwing-away-your-career-by-assaulting-a-civilian kind, but still hell. "Can I get a computer or something? I may as well do my paperwork while I'm stuck here."
"Certainly-I can have yours brought from your quarters if you'd like."
"Yeah. Yes, thank you. I've gotta write this field report as soon as possible," he worried aloud, eyes widening as he listed in his head everything he would have to write down.
"Oh, that reminds me. I discussed the matter with Dr. Parrish and Dr. Weir, and I've agreed to omit the more personal aspects of the incident. There's no need for the sexual assault to go on record. My own report only refers to the aggression triggered by the presence of foreign toxins in your bloodstream."
Lorne's mouth went dry. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll…keep that in mind."
Beckett patted his knee. "Let the nurse know when you're ready to eat something," and he returned to his office.
Evan looked at the fists clenched in his lap. It would be so easy; just cover up the disgrace like it had never happened. Dr. Weir already knew, but her second-chance policy was more like a tenth or eleventh. She wouldn't mention it, ever. It wouldn't get back to Earth, it wouldn't be on his record. She would pretend it hadn't happened, because Weir didn't like to punish failure. "But that's what you are," he snarled at himself. "A failure." Of his first command. And if there was one thing he didn't deserve right now, it was a break. He ground his teeth and waited for his laptop to arrive.
~
Mueller stopped by just before lunchtime, and Lorne was relieved for the excuse to set aside the field report. Every awkward sentence he typed made his jaw ache.
"Major, how are you?" Mueller asked stiffly.
Oh good, more awkwardness. "I'm fine now. Just killing time 'til they let me go." Mueller nodded but didn't actually seem interested. There was clearly something on his mind, and Lorne wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. He was beating himself up enough about the mission. He didn't need his senior lieutenant chewing him out for it.
"Sir, I would like to apologize."
"For what?"
"Knocking you out yesterday, Sir. I regret doing that."
"Knocking me out…." Oh, thank god. That explained the blackout-and the lump on the back of his head. Mueller had hit him over the head. He really hadn't gotten any further than David's zipper…. Evan's mind shied away, back to safer ground. "No apologies needed, Mueller. I'm just glad you were there to have my back. And Parrish's." Mueller looked a little pained. "I'm fucking relieved you did what you did. Really. I don't think I can express how grateful I am knowing there's a soldier on the team I can count on to bash me in the head when I go screwy."
Mueller looked downright uncomfortable with the subject, but he didn't shift on his feet or look around the room.
"How's Parrish doing? How's the team?" Lorne asked, trying to change the subject.
"Haven't seen Parrish since quarantine last night. I think he's alright. And Chernowski's just a little keyed up, that's all."
"How 'bout Schmittie?" Evan couldn't care less, but as team leader, he had to ask.
Mueller frowned, seemed to think for a moment, and said, "Same as usual."
"Lucky him," Lorne sighed. For once, Schmitz wasn't the one in trouble or responsible for trouble. Today, that honor belonged to their team leader.
"I'm glad to see you're doing all right, Major. I'll see you at the debriefing tomorrow morning." Mueller abruptly nodded and backed away a few feet before turning his back and walking smartly out the door. Lorne watched him go, surprised. He knew Mueller was all business-he didn't talk much about personal stuff, ever-but even that seemed a little fast. It must have had something to do with the big would-be-rapist sign tattooed on his forehead. He glumly pulled the laptop toward him again. At least now he could fill in some holes in the mission report.
~
The debriefing wasn't for another half hour, but Lorne needed to think, and the conference room was as good a place as any. He sat still in the chair, using deep breathing to relax, trying to make the knot in his stomach untie. It wasn't working.
M4R-317 had been bad. Oh sure, it had turned out alright: a few more vine samples, a new species of gigantic flying reptile, Nobel Prizes and handshakes for everyone. But it could have been so bad.
If Lorne hadn't scouted ahead on his own, if Mueller hadn't been digging for Parrish's plants, if Schmitz hadn't gone near the nest…the whole mess wouldn't have happened. That was a lot of ifs. But they all started with the first: Major Evan Lorne.
He'd turned back when he heard the squawking, even before the thing with claws and scales flew back to the nest. By the time he'd reached the top of the hill, Schmitz was curled up on the ground with the thing shrieking over his head. Mueller was running and they'd both aimed their rifles and fired and fired and fired. But they hadn't been there when it started. He hadn't been where he was supposed to be. Only their third mission off-world, and he'd already gotten careless.
Evan's stomach lurched and he reminded himself to breathe deeply. He was damned lucky no one had been hurt, but luck wasn't good enough for a commander. He had to do better, do something different to make sure he didn't need luck to do his job. He knew he couldn't be everywhere at once, but a good leader should be able to… That was it! More eyes. If he couldn't be everywhere at once, then he needed somebody else to fill in the gaps. There weren't enough eyes on the team right now. He and Mueller could watch Parrish and Schmitz, but if they needed to do anything else, they left one of the scientists uncovered. Like Schmitz, today.
Lorne pulled out his laptop and added a quick addendum to his field report. If he could have just one more man, there would be enough eyes and guns to cover everyone. If Colonel Sheppard approved his recommendation, he wouldn't need luck. And nobody would get hurt. Lorne saved the changes and leaned back in his chair, relieved to have the problem fixed so easily.
So why couldn't he shake the heavy feeling in his stomach?
~
"Hey, Parrish, how's it going?" Chernowski called, knocking on the door frame.
David looked up, surprised and pleased to see him. "Hey! Come on in!"
"Back at work already?"
"Hmm. Trying, at any rate. It's impossible to type with this damn splint on." David shook the offending hand, trying to uncramp his thumb and forefinger.
"Yeah, I wouldn't know," Chernowski grinned, shoving papers aside so he could lean against the counter. "Didn't they give you a few days off?"
"'God and nature wait for no man.' Besides, I wanted to get my samples in the cooler before they started decomposing. Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
The botanist gestured at the refrigeration units and scientists over his shoulder. "For bringing my stuff down last night. The department was already working on it when I showed up this morning."
Chernowski shook his head. "Wasn't me. Sorry. I mean, I would've, if I'd thought of it."
David frowned. "I thought it was you. Mueller, maybe?"
"No way. Mueller's not that kind of guy," the marine smiled.
"Right," David agreed, and then they both frowned and looked toward their teammate's empty table. Schmitz? No, it couldn't be.... "Anyway," Parrish closed the subject quickly.
"Yeah. I was tracking you down to see how you're doing."
Parrish considered. "Really good, actually. Beckett gave me some great meds. I can't eat bagels for a few weeks, but I'm okay," he smiled as wide as he could stretch the stitches. He felt good-worlds better than the sulky, pathetic mess he'd been yesterday. "I've even got Dr. Yushida bringing me coffee-sympathy is a beautiful thing."
"Cool. You know the debriefing's tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah, Dr. Heightmeyer told me. I've got an appointment with her tomorrow afternoon."
"Huh," Chernowski grunted. "Have fun with that."
Parrish snorted and swatted the marine's thigh when he started crumpling a disorganized heap of papers.
"I just talked to Lorne in the med lab."
His smile faded. "How is he?"
"A-okay. Pissed they're making him stay a few more hours, but he seems back to normal."
Parrish thought about what that would look like. Normal. As if Lorne hadn't punched him. Or bitten him. Or straddled him and held him down. The same old Lorne: restless, annoying, normal. His hands clenched as he debated whether to go talk to him, to convince himself that things were okay again.
Chernowski shifted on the papers.
Parrish blinked and leaned back in his chair, staring at his laptop screen, considering. He knew he should go-of course he should; if he were really fine this shouldn't be a problem-but that pathetic mess from yesterday started worrying some more. Restraints, the halls of Atlantis….
He didn't notice when Chernowski left.
Part II