Work Text:
Evan’s no novice when he’s assigned to the Pegasus Galaxy. He’d been traveling to different galaxy for nearly three years before Doctor Jackson found the location of the Lost City. He knows his way around an alien planet and knows how to handle himself.
More importantly, Evan knows what it’s like to deal with the strange quirks of superior officers. General Hammond seemed to almost always know when SG-1 was in trouble and was never in the mood to be questioned about it. Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter understood each other on a level that was just weird.
He didn’t notice much at first when it came to Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir. Of course, the first time he met Sheppard, the circumstances were hardly ideal. While technically, Evan has years more of experience in Stargate operations than Sheppard, Sheppard’s expertise concerning the Wraith outweighs practically everyone outside the Pegasus native on his team, Teyla Emmagan.
Evan doesn’t envy him. He’d rather have more experience in general interplanetary travel than with life-sucking aliens.
Evan’s been to funerals that were cheerier than Colonel Sheppard’s promotion reception. The punch is weak, the cookies are from last Friday’s dinner, and the atmosphere is about as tense as an old-fashioned shotgun wedding.
He sticks close to the punchbowl with Captain Graham Kelly and Colonel Reynolds. The three of them have been on the same team for a long while and given the attitudes of half the people in this room, they stick together. Better to stand in between the two parties on either side of the conference room than risk alienating the wrong person.
Evan takes another sip of his punch and winces. "Sir," he asks, "how long have we been here?"
Reynolds doesn’t even glance at the clock. "Forty minutes."
Kelly gets the message and he grins. "How long do you think we have before we can make a polite exit?"
"Probably not until the generals leave," Reynolds answers. He nods toward the group by General Landry’s office. Evan recognizes Sheppard from the photo he’d seen during the briefings for the new Atlantis personnel, as well as Doctor Weir from the meeting he’d had with her the day before. He doesn’t know them, but he’s fairly sure that the tightness around Sheppard’s eyes isn’t because of the punch, no matter how bad it is.
"Major Lorne," General Landry calls from where he’s standing with the two leaders of the expedition and gestures for him to come over.
Evan groans inwardly, well aware of the eyes of the men on the opposite side of the room. He’d hoped to avoid this kind of situation until they got off of Earth.
Kelly’s trying not to laugh and even Reynolds looks amused. "Good luck, sir," Kelly whispers.
Evan glares at him briefly before putting his cup down and walking over. "Yes sir?" he asks Landry.
The general’s clearly in his pleasant politicking mode, and is ignoring the less than cheery dispositions of Weir, Sheppard, and Caldwell. "I understand you hadn’t had a chance to meet Colonel Sheppard yet," he states.
Evan shakes his head. "No sir," he replies. "I did meet Doctor Weir yesterday, though." He smiles in her direction, and she returns it in kind. He isn’t blind to how pretty she is when she smiles.
He turns to Sheppard at that point and salutes him. "Major Evan Lorne reporting, sir," he says crisply. "Congratulations on your promotion."
The colonel returns the salute in a lazy manner. Evan’s seen that kind of salute before and thinks that Sheppard was probably the bane of his Academy instructors’ existence. "Thank you, Major. It was certainly wasn’t what I was expecting when I came back to Earth."
Evan’s not entirely sure what to make of that statement, but Caldwell speaks up.
"Yes, Colonel Sheppard certainly made the right… impression," he says, his smile strained.
Silence falls, and he observes the confusion on Sheppard’s face and Weir glaring in Caldwell’s direction.
Evan wonders if he’s missed something.
At first, John wasn’t sure what to make of his new second in command. For all that Bates was the ultimate pain in the ass, he was in charge of the city’s security and didn’t get off-world too much.
Lorne’s different. He has his own team to go on his own missions. He came with stellar recommendations from Generals Hammond, O’Neill, and Landry, as well as his former SG team leader, Colonel Reynolds. Truth be told, John’s still a little confused as to why Lorne isn’t leading the military contingent. He’s got all the right people to back him up for the job. Okay, so maybe he does know why Lorne doesn’t have the job. It’s because the job likely should have gone to Caldwell, but it didn’t. John’s sure Elizabeth had something to do with it, but she refuses to budge on the subject, even under the best kinds of persuasion. Not even the promise of a month’s worth of backrubs could make her budge. Probably because she knows she’ll get the backrubs anyway if she asks him.
Because he doesn’t know what to make of him, John treads carefully around Lorne, at first anyway. He learns that the guy had a sense of humor on the mission where they met Ronon, when Rodney came and complained about the man’s smartass quip about the only reason John didn’t shoot Rodney was because he’s a genius and they needed him alive.
He sees it for himself not long after that, though.
John glares at his desk. He hates paperwork. Hates it more than a lot of things. He might even hate it more than clowns, though it’s a close contest. Paperwork keeps him from doing more interesting things, like working a few new tricks with the city, or teasing McKay about knowing what women wanted now, or skateboarding, or bugging McKay about Cadman, or visiting Elizabeth. That last one’s the clincher. Paperwork keeps him from pestering Elizabeth while she was busy with her paperwork.
Paperwork’s evil. And he’s bored.
Giving it up as a lost cause, he steps outside his office and into the ordinance room, only to find Lorne bent over and examining one of the grenade launchers. The words are out of his mouth before John even thinks about them.
"Checking to see if the targeting’s off, Major?"
Despite what John’s heard about the man, he still expects him to behave like Bates would have. The marine sergeant would have immediately straightened to attention, greeted him with a clipped "sir" and given him a brief explanation on what he was doing, ending it with an equally terse "sir." Then he would have waited, standing at attention, staring straight ahead and trying not to look in John’s direction.
Lorne, though, doesn’t act like that at all. He straightens up to meet his gaze. His words and tone are far different than Bates’ would have been. "No, sir. Just checking the serial number for my report." The man makes a sour face. "Which will include a reference to my atrocious aim. Colonel Reynolds would have me back on the shooting range for a miss like that."
John grins. "Well, at least we know that tree will never harm anyone else ever again."
The major relaxes his stance and smiles. Lorne gives as good as he gets, and when John leaves to go in search of Elizabeth, he decides that Lorne’s definitely not like Bates.
Elizabeth’s relieved to have Lorne in Atlantis. She knew after her first meeting with him at the SGC that he would do far better as John’s second than Bates had. The major’s experience and solid, down-to-earth personality is a good compliment for John’s… more troublesome style.
All right, so she’s glad to have someone there who won’t constantly bitch and moan about how Colonel Sheppard has endangered the city in his choice of friends, his actions on a mission, and so on. By the time that the Wraith had started toward Atlantis, Bates was so busy assigning blame that he lost nearly all impartiality. She needs someone with a level head here, and Lorne seems able to provide that.
Thank goodness. John sends her heart into her throat on a weekly basis, so it’s a relief to have someone there who she knows can be of some true assistance in a crisis.
The rescue jumper settles into the jumper bay nearly an hour after the other team’s escape. Elizabeth listens to the sounds of the marines shuffling out of the back of the jumper, but doesn’t get up to leave herself. She barely notices that Major Lorne is still in the pilot’s seat.
She thinks of the people of Olesia and the fate they will likely suffer now that the ‘criminal’ segment of their population is no longer feeding the Wraith. She feels nothing for the corrupt government officials that brought this all upon themselves, but the people, the normal, everyday people who had lived their lives without the threat of Wraith cullings hanging over them… Elizabeth sighs inwardly. It’s hard to accept.
"Ma’am?"
Elizabeth turns and finds Lorne staring at her curiously. "Are you all right?" he asks further.
She assures him, "Yes, I’m fine, Major." She sighs. "I should go check on Colonel Sheppard and his team. I think they also had a guest with them and he needs to be dealt with."
He nods and watches her stand up. "Doctor Weir," he says as she turns to leave.
"Yes, Major?"
Lorne’s expression looks almost bashful. "You did the right thing," he says hesitantly. "With the Chancellor…"
He doesn’t say anything else, but Elizabeth understands. It was a calculated move on her part, confronting the Chancellor as belligerently as she did. If Lorne and his men had not picked up on her intentions so quickly, things might very well have gone badly for them. They might be Wraith food at this point.
"Thank you, Major," she says quietly.
Evan realizes pretty quickly during his tour in Atlantis that he genuinely likes Sheppard and Doctor Weir. They’re good people stuck in difficult situations, having to keep the city and expedition safe while still continuously convincing the big shots back home that what everyone is doing out here is worth the cost in the taxpayers’ money. He doesn’t envy them.
So, if he happens to see an occasional shadow disappearing into one of their quarters after they’ve already retired for the night, Evan doesn’t let himself dwell on it too closely. Both the doctor and the colonel are the epitome of professionalism when they’re on duty, which is what matters the most.
What happens behind closed doors is none of his business. That’s a motto Evan’s lived by since he was first assigned to the SGC and it’s served him well.