1 Fic (StargateLand Theme Week Day #3 Prompt Fill)
When the Time is Right - Stargate: Atlantis - Evan Lorne, John Sheppard - Words: 1,479
Written for Stargateland; Prompt: 14-SGA, Lorne & or / Sheppard, missing persons
Summary: John and Evan are lost, maybe a little bit more lost than most.
Content Notes: None. G.
On AO3: When the Time is Right
On DW: When the Time is Right
They were at the supermarket because it was Tuesday, and they went to the supermarket on Tuesday because that's just what they did. John pushed the cart and Evan made sure to pretend to be looking the other way or off in another aisle when John pushed off with one foot and rode the cart a ways when they came to aisle that was empty of anyone watching. He didn't let John see his smile, because then John would know that Evan had been watching and would stop riding on the cart altogether, and they stood in front of the boxes of cereal and debated over the fun sugary cereal that neither of them actually liked but ate because they could, and because it turned the milk colors which was still fascinating somehow, and the healthy cereal that had advertisements about cholesterol levels and fiber and balanced diets. They got the sugary cereal every time but the debate was part of their routine.
Routine had become important to them over the past, Evan wasn't sure how long it had been but he knew it had at least been months because the bills he'd paid on their apartment went back that far, but in any case, routines and each other were the only things they had left. He'd woken up one morning because he'd heard a noise and was apparently a light sleeper, and found John on the floor staring and rocking back and forth ever so slightly because he didn't know what came next. Evan hadn't known either, but they sat down on the cool tile floor with pieces of paper from the desk Evan didn't remember having - though he didn't remember not having it either - and wrote out the days and the hours until every square was filled.
They walked the same sidewalks, though since Evan had bought John a skateboard it was more common for John to ride alongside as Evan walked, and they tried to piece together as much as they could while keeping the bare equilibrium that allowed them to function. The memory gaps were concerning, though the papers they'd found in their apartment had done a little to help them figure out who they were and such. Apparently Evan was the one who took care of the finances and everything and thankfully had a pretty meticulous filing system and had found enough for them to make educated guesses as to how their lives worked.
They had jobs, John did data entry and Evan telemarketing, both at the company that seemed to employ most of their town. Evan couldn't remember having any particular desire to be a telemarketer, though he had only the vaguest memories of growing up at all, but the resume that he'd found wasn't all that snazzy and work was hard to come by. John made no complaints about his job but every evening from nine to ten he would sit on the balcony with his head tipped back and Even would be struck with what felt almost like deja vu if there had just been an ocean outside instead of the back alley and the apartment building that was next to theirs. That was all it really took for Evan to know they were supposed to be somewhere else.
Evan had once suggested that they go to a doctor, tell someone that they didn't remember anything since before the snow had melted away, but John had frozen up so quickly and thoroughly that Evan didn't mention it again. It had taken him a week before John had stopped tensing or nearly flinching when Evan grew close. Sometimes, when it was late and he felt John climb into bed with him already soaked with sweat and still shaking even though Evan pretended not to noticed, he wondered if John remembered more than he was letting on. That was something else Evan knew he would never ask; they trusted each other because they'd had no one else and Evan wasn't about to mess that up by suggesting that John was hiding things.
They finished collecting their groceries, up and down each aisle even though they didn't need anything in the pet section or the paper products. John put everything on the counter and then packed it up again in their reusable shopping bags while Evan paid and made polite small talk with the cashier. Their system worked, Evan handled the people while John kept track of everything and everyone in that silent watchful way he had. He would almost say that John was shy but John placed himself between Evan and every perceived danger and was absolutely vigilant about glaring down anyone who approached them who seemed in the least bit threatening. Mostly, Evan figured that John was just introverted and a little paranoid, and who wouldn't be after losing most of their existence in some kind of freak memory failure.
Evan finished paying and picked up the two bags John had left for him to carry, noticing that John had made sure to take the bag with both the cartons of milk and orange juice again. He would manage to sneakily trade John for one of the bags on their walk home, and as he spotted John standing next to the community bulletin with the grocery bags at his feet he saw the perfect opportunity. As he walked closer, the way John's shoulders were hunched up and his feet were standing apart like he was bracing for an attack hit just about every panic button Evan had and he dashed over with only a quick look around to ascertain that there was no one in the immediate vicinity who could have upset John.
"What's wrong?" Evan asked, placing the grocery bags on the floor with the rest and felt his body gearing up to fight.
John didn't answer with anything more than the barest of nods toward the bulletin board.
Evan let down his guard enough to look, trusting that his reflexes would alert him when someone approached - he'd had enough experiences with noises in the night that woke both him and John to know they were both capable of defending themselves from creaky floor boards and loose windows that clattered in the breeze - and turned to the notice board. There was a multitude of flyers; advertisements, yard sales, free puppies and kittens, but Evan's eyes almost immediately found the wanted and missing persons section that the sheriff kept updated. There was a full sheet stamped from the day before with two very familiar faces staring back at them, or they would be familiar if they weren't both in military dress uniform. Two missing air force officers who disappeared from the Cheyenne area in Colorado in the early spring.
"John Sheppard and Evan Lorne," John read, his voice almost hoarse as he reached up to touch around his throat.
It took Evan a minute to realize that John was searching for his dog tags and he reached up to find his own neck as naked as he already knew it was. He didn't remember being an air force officer, didn't remember being whoever that person was, but unless someone was playing a pretty horrible joke, there was something that almost made sense about the situation. They didn't know anyone well enough, didn't have any friends, that someone would play a joke like this.
Evan tore down the flyer, folding it neatly before he tucked it into his pocket. "John, let's go back to the apartment. It's time to put away groceries."
The statement got John to look at his watch and then bending down to pick up the bags almost as if he was machine operated. Evan gathered up the rest of the bags and they walked back to the apartment and put away the groceries. When they finished, John disappeared into the kitchen and started to make dinner; grilled bacon and cheese sandwiches with tomato soup on Tuesdays.
Evan sat down at the kitchen table and smoothed the flyer out. There was a phone number for anyone who might have information about the missing officers. He supposed that having information was one way to put it. He watched John cook, John's face almost blank except for the pull of his mouth where he was biting the inside of his lip. It was the face John made when he was thinking about something very carefully, worrying at whatever was bothering him until he had the answer he needed. Evan took the flyer and placed it on the pad of paper that sat unused next to the phone. It could wait until John was ready, until they were both ready.
"Dinner's done," John said, pushing the plates to Evan so that he could carry them over to the table.
Evan checked the clock that hung above the desk. Six o'clock, right on time.
Written for Stargateland; Prompt: 14-SGA, Lorne & or / Sheppard, missing persons
Summary: John and Evan are lost, maybe a little bit more lost than most.
Content Notes: None. G.
On AO3: When the Time is Right
On DW: When the Time is Right
They were at the supermarket because it was Tuesday, and they went to the supermarket on Tuesday because that's just what they did. John pushed the cart and Evan made sure to pretend to be looking the other way or off in another aisle when John pushed off with one foot and rode the cart a ways when they came to aisle that was empty of anyone watching. He didn't let John see his smile, because then John would know that Evan had been watching and would stop riding on the cart altogether, and they stood in front of the boxes of cereal and debated over the fun sugary cereal that neither of them actually liked but ate because they could, and because it turned the milk colors which was still fascinating somehow, and the healthy cereal that had advertisements about cholesterol levels and fiber and balanced diets. They got the sugary cereal every time but the debate was part of their routine.
Routine had become important to them over the past, Evan wasn't sure how long it had been but he knew it had at least been months because the bills he'd paid on their apartment went back that far, but in any case, routines and each other were the only things they had left. He'd woken up one morning because he'd heard a noise and was apparently a light sleeper, and found John on the floor staring and rocking back and forth ever so slightly because he didn't know what came next. Evan hadn't known either, but they sat down on the cool tile floor with pieces of paper from the desk Evan didn't remember having - though he didn't remember not having it either - and wrote out the days and the hours until every square was filled.
They walked the same sidewalks, though since Evan had bought John a skateboard it was more common for John to ride alongside as Evan walked, and they tried to piece together as much as they could while keeping the bare equilibrium that allowed them to function. The memory gaps were concerning, though the papers they'd found in their apartment had done a little to help them figure out who they were and such. Apparently Evan was the one who took care of the finances and everything and thankfully had a pretty meticulous filing system and had found enough for them to make educated guesses as to how their lives worked.
They had jobs, John did data entry and Evan telemarketing, both at the company that seemed to employ most of their town. Evan couldn't remember having any particular desire to be a telemarketer, though he had only the vaguest memories of growing up at all, but the resume that he'd found wasn't all that snazzy and work was hard to come by. John made no complaints about his job but every evening from nine to ten he would sit on the balcony with his head tipped back and Even would be struck with what felt almost like deja vu if there had just been an ocean outside instead of the back alley and the apartment building that was next to theirs. That was all it really took for Evan to know they were supposed to be somewhere else.
Evan had once suggested that they go to a doctor, tell someone that they didn't remember anything since before the snow had melted away, but John had frozen up so quickly and thoroughly that Evan didn't mention it again. It had taken him a week before John had stopped tensing or nearly flinching when Evan grew close. Sometimes, when it was late and he felt John climb into bed with him already soaked with sweat and still shaking even though Evan pretended not to noticed, he wondered if John remembered more than he was letting on. That was something else Evan knew he would never ask; they trusted each other because they'd had no one else and Evan wasn't about to mess that up by suggesting that John was hiding things.
They finished collecting their groceries, up and down each aisle even though they didn't need anything in the pet section or the paper products. John put everything on the counter and then packed it up again in their reusable shopping bags while Evan paid and made polite small talk with the cashier. Their system worked, Evan handled the people while John kept track of everything and everyone in that silent watchful way he had. He would almost say that John was shy but John placed himself between Evan and every perceived danger and was absolutely vigilant about glaring down anyone who approached them who seemed in the least bit threatening. Mostly, Evan figured that John was just introverted and a little paranoid, and who wouldn't be after losing most of their existence in some kind of freak memory failure.
Evan finished paying and picked up the two bags John had left for him to carry, noticing that John had made sure to take the bag with both the cartons of milk and orange juice again. He would manage to sneakily trade John for one of the bags on their walk home, and as he spotted John standing next to the community bulletin with the grocery bags at his feet he saw the perfect opportunity. As he walked closer, the way John's shoulders were hunched up and his feet were standing apart like he was bracing for an attack hit just about every panic button Evan had and he dashed over with only a quick look around to ascertain that there was no one in the immediate vicinity who could have upset John.
"What's wrong?" Evan asked, placing the grocery bags on the floor with the rest and felt his body gearing up to fight.
John didn't answer with anything more than the barest of nods toward the bulletin board.
Evan let down his guard enough to look, trusting that his reflexes would alert him when someone approached - he'd had enough experiences with noises in the night that woke both him and John to know they were both capable of defending themselves from creaky floor boards and loose windows that clattered in the breeze - and turned to the notice board. There was a multitude of flyers; advertisements, yard sales, free puppies and kittens, but Evan's eyes almost immediately found the wanted and missing persons section that the sheriff kept updated. There was a full sheet stamped from the day before with two very familiar faces staring back at them, or they would be familiar if they weren't both in military dress uniform. Two missing air force officers who disappeared from the Cheyenne area in Colorado in the early spring.
"John Sheppard and Evan Lorne," John read, his voice almost hoarse as he reached up to touch around his throat.
It took Evan a minute to realize that John was searching for his dog tags and he reached up to find his own neck as naked as he already knew it was. He didn't remember being an air force officer, didn't remember being whoever that person was, but unless someone was playing a pretty horrible joke, there was something that almost made sense about the situation. They didn't know anyone well enough, didn't have any friends, that someone would play a joke like this.
Evan tore down the flyer, folding it neatly before he tucked it into his pocket. "John, let's go back to the apartment. It's time to put away groceries."
The statement got John to look at his watch and then bending down to pick up the bags almost as if he was machine operated. Evan gathered up the rest of the bags and they walked back to the apartment and put away the groceries. When they finished, John disappeared into the kitchen and started to make dinner; grilled bacon and cheese sandwiches with tomato soup on Tuesdays.
Evan sat down at the kitchen table and smoothed the flyer out. There was a phone number for anyone who might have information about the missing officers. He supposed that having information was one way to put it. He watched John cook, John's face almost blank except for the pull of his mouth where he was biting the inside of his lip. It was the face John made when he was thinking about something very carefully, worrying at whatever was bothering him until he had the answer he needed. Evan took the flyer and placed it on the pad of paper that sat unused next to the phone. It could wait until John was ready, until they were both ready.
"Dinner's done," John said, pushing the plates to Evan so that he could carry them over to the table.
Evan checked the clock that hung above the desk. Six o'clock, right on time.