Disclaimer: I only own Dr Alison Madison. If you recognise it, it's not mine. I don't own Stargate Atlantis or it's characters unfortunately. If I did John and Elizabeth would be ducking into closets all over the city. Ronon and Teyla would have done more than give each other those smouldering looks. And Rodney would so get some action. After all, you got to love that brain of his. Plus there would be lots of scenes where alien influences causes many of the men in the city to take off their shirts or risk death.
AN: This is my first Atlantis fic so be gentle with me. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I don't mind criticism as long as it's constructive. I kind of get bummed by the whole 'this is the worst thing ever written and you should die etc' (which actually happened when I was posting Harry Potter fiction under a different name). Anyway, enough of the pity party. Decided to go with the name Marcus as just about every other Lorne fic out there uses it. Don't know about you but I think it suits him. I'm also looking for a beta for when I actually get my act together and write any of these other ideas in my head. Anyone interested?
Also I am English so it's not that I'm really bad at spelling, it just how we spell things here.
Spoilers: Season 2 up to Coup D'Etat.
Summary: "It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne." Based on the episode Coup D'Etat. Lorne/OC.
Part: 1/3
Those Left Behind
Bad news travels fast
If there was one thing she had learnt it was that rumours spread at an alarming rate no matter what galaxy you happened to be in. In fact in the Pegasus galaxy, with a distinct lack of the usual entertainment choices, it seemed to be somewhat worse. It was a safe assumption that within half an hour of disembarking through the gate the majority of the expedition had a very good idea as to any wacky adventures endured by the flagship team. Though most of the time it was like a game of Chinese whispers on a mass scale and you could not always believe the distorted view of events. This was very much proven by the fact that Teyla was yet to return impregnated by any of her team mates, Colonel Sheppard it appeared did not have three wives spread across the galaxy (as far as they all knew) and Rodney McKay was still alive, putting a halt to the rumour that Ronon had flipped out, joined a cannibalistic tribe and proceeded to roast the scientist on a spit over a roaring fire.
People were so interested in what was going on the only way it could have spread any faster was if it had been broadcasted through the radio system (and they did not think that Dr Weir was going to implement that course of action anytime soon). The same principle could be said for any sordid little rendezvous' between the scientists on the east pier, even the surprising couples to be seen sitting together in the mess hall. Gossip was not exclusive to life and death situations. Very high school but it wasn't like Atlantis was buzzing with a plethora of leisure activities. Not all of the theories were true of course but they sure did make for good entertainment at girls poker nights when tiring of the discussion of which one of the military leaders would be a preferable partner if you were to be stranded off world on a deserted planet and was forced to reproduce in order to save the human race. No surprise really that Sheppard was leading that poll, many of the female Atlanteans itching to try and covert him from his Kirk-like ways, which of course would be made a hell of a lot easier it being a deserted planet and all.
When it came to the boredom, if worse came to the worse you could always fall back on the ever-interesting Atlantis betting pool. It was ridiculous really the things people would make bets on when there was a distinct lack of cable television. For instance there were some very reliable nurses who gave periodic updates of how many times Lt. Colonel Sheppard ended up in the infirmary in any given week. There was also the dedicated control room staff, who kept an eye on how many times he visited Dr Weir in a day (this being the times it appeared unrelated to work). And there was even one of the scientist who kept count of the amount of times in one day that Dr Zelenka swore in Czech after Dr McKay left the room. The amount of chocolate, magazines and other luxury items traded on this, you had better believe the grapevine was like a well-oiled machine.
If rumours (and bets) spread fast, however, it was noting compare to the rate at which bad news filtered throughout the corridors of the Ancient city. And the thing about bad news was it always seemed to correct. Maybe it was a good thing in the long run. Maybe it was better to know the truth than to spend the day thinking that her world was still the same, that it was still intact. Ignorance may be bliss, but in the end it wouldn't have changed a damn thing… he was still gone.
Dr Alison Madison had been in her lab when she had heard the news. She had been working late analysing samples from M4R-252 and had been quite engrossed in the study of the new grass root, especially considering the fact it was bright blue in colour. Two years at the SGC and two in Atlantis and it still amazed the botanist how astounded she remained at each new species she encountered. You really think it would have become second nature by now. She supposed it was the scientist part of her brain that insisted she remain curious and animated at any aspects of the unknown and the possibility for new discoveries.
So immersed in her work, it had taken several moments for her to even register the shadow of the figure standing uneasily by her workstation. Glancing up, she vaguely thought it was about time Katie reappeared with the newly refilled coffee pot. Okay, so the stuff did taste a bit like muddy water but caffeine was caffeine after all, and she was quite sure there was some in there somewhere, no matter how cleverly it was disguised. The relieved smile quickly fell when their eyes connected. It was Katie Brown standing in front of her all right, and the coffee pot was clenched in her right hand, but the expression on her friends face surprised her. She prayed that the cause of such an expression had been the fact she had just encountered a half naked Kavanaugh sprinting from the mess hall or something of the like, that would cause the pained look to crumble and the light sound of laughter to fill the lab. The icy feeling of dread that automatically shot into her stomach seemed to indicate that hadn't been the case. Alison knew that something was really wrong and that was when the fear set in. She had never been an overdramatic person and never one to panic but the look on Katie's face said it all; something really bad had happened.
"There's been a problem on 177." Katie hadn't needed to say anything else, he had been on 177 and her face had told her all she needed to know. Closing her eyes Alison prayed that it wasn't what she thought it was. It couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. The burning sensation of tears began to prick her eyes and she knew even before the next words were spoken.
"They just brought the bodies back through the gate." She supposed maybe there should have been more denial. Maybe she should have held out hope for just a bit longer. But then, she had that bad feeling all morning, that she had at first attributed to the fact they she hadn't spoken to him since their argument. Maybe she was a cynic but hearing him referred to as a 'body' had hit home like she had just been beaten with a sledgehammer of intergalactic proportions. She had remained frozen stiff for several moments until she realised her grip on the desk had been so strong she could no longer feel her own fingertips. Releasing her hold slowly, she silently stood. Abandoning the samples she hurried out of the lab, stone expression plastered on her face. She was vaguely aware of Katie calling her name, but that really didn't matter at this precise moment. She hardly registered any of the personnel she passed or the looks on their faces; she had only one thought on her mind. She needed to get to her room. There was no way she was going to breakdown here, not yet. It took several aggravating attempts to get into her room as her hands shook at an alarming rate and her brain did not seem to be able to perform the simple task. It was only when the whoosh of the door shutting behind her reached her ears that she allowed herself to let go. Flopping heavily onto her bed face first, she let the dam crumble; she let the pain wash over her and then allowed the tears to fall. It was only now in the privacy of her own room she allowed herself to mourn the fact that she would never again see the annoyingly endearing smile of one Major Marcus Lorne.
Choking on hysterical sobs she tried to calm down. Taking deep gulps of air, she allowed her mind to wander. How was she supposed to go on without him in her life? Who else was going to bring her back a bouquet of pretty flowers from off world? So, he had spent four days in the infirmary because he hadn't realised that half of them had been poisonous, but still it had been a sweet gesture. Who else would hold her through the night then wake her up in the morning by singing off key Frank Sinatra in the shower, with the occasional country song thrown in for variety? Who else would make her smile by cracking a wildly inappropriate joke when she was homesick? Or smuggle extra pieces of chocolate cake (well that's what it claimed to be) from the mess when she was working late? The bigger question really was who else was him?
He was gone. Really gone. Her gut twisted as she thought back on what had transpired the last time they had spoken. The last words she had spoken to him were in anger. She hoped that he knew she hadn't meant a word of it. She should never have let him travel through the gate without telling him she was sorry, but she had been angry. Not angry with him, but herself and too stubborn to admit it. It was suppose to be a routine mission; he was supposed to give her the opportunity to apologise!
There were signs of him all over her room. There was the half a pack of gum on the bedside cabinet, which had to be his, as she never touched the stuff. One of his shirts lay over a chair in the corner, and that crime thriller he had traded three chocolate bars and the fishing magazine he had won in a poker game, lay on the desk. She didn't even remember when he had brought it over. Then again she shouldn't have been surprised, he had had his head buried in it during spare moments for the past two weeks. Twenty-six pages left. He was never going to know how it ended. It was then that the anger took over and coursed through her body like an electrical current. Grabbing the nearest object in her reach, she hurled it across the room. The items on the bookcase shelves were next. After several moments of destruction, her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor. Her eyes drawn to the scattered heap of things next to her. Moving aside several books and trinkets, she reached for the frame, wincing slightly as she noticed the chip on one of the corners. He had given it to her for her birthday only weeks ago. God only knows what he had traded for it. Stroking the carved wooden frame a trembling smile rose to her face. Inside was a picture of them. She didn't even know when it had been taken. An array of pictures had been posted on the notices boards in some of the labs and in the corridors about a month ago. The fact that Laura Cadman had been parading around with a smug smile every time Rodney McKay tried to pull down the ones of him in an embarrassing position, led her to the suspicion that the lieutenant had been the snap happy culprit. It had certainly raised morale and after a while some of the pictures had been distributed to the members of the expedition due to the fact they were beginning to take over the walls of Atlantis. This had been one of them. Set against the backdrop of the ocean, her photo self laughed as he whispered something in her ear, his arm thrown casually across her shoulders. Neither aware that they were being observed through a camera lens. Her fingers gently traced over his face, even in a picture his beautiful blue eyes sparkled with mischief and life.
Pushing down a fresh batch of sobs, she drew her knees towards her body. Her eyes felt gritty and sore, her face was probably puffed up and she knew for sure she was going to have impressive tear tracks down her cheeks. Grabbing a handful of tissues off the dresser, she attempted to fix the mess she was in. She decided at that moment that she needed to be strong. They had both been aware this time might come, a time when he wouldn't come back through the gate, when he wouldn't come back to her. He wasn't the first casualty of Atlantis and unfortunately he wouldn't be the last. She supposed she had feared it all along, perhaps that what the other night had been all about. Still, the knowledge that it was a real possibility did nothing to prepare her for the pain of it actually happening. She knew she wasn't going to be the only one mourning, everyone was struck by any loss in the city and from the plural Katie had used he hadn't been the only casualty of the mission. The numbness began to take over now. Perhaps it was the numbness that she needed. She may not run the city but she still had a job to do, they all did. She knew Marc well enough to know that he was a soldier first and foremost. He would have mourned but he would have still done his job, he understood about duty about getting done what had to be done no matter what. Atlantis came first. It was just one of the reasons she had loved him. She only wished she could have had a chance to tell him that.