On Atlantis, Lorne learns of the events of The Janus List.

Lorne/Colby slash.

I can't work out why I can't add just an extra line of space in where there are breaks between sections - I've tried in both the rich text and the html edit functions - so I've added a horizontal line instead. I hope it isn't too intrusive!

There'd been no clues. He hadn't had even the slightest intuition to warn him of impending disaster. One minute he'd been overseeing the unloading of supplies from the Daedalus, the next a squeaky clean lieutenant he'd never seen before was saluting him rigidly and informing him that he was to report to Colonel Caldwell right away, sir.

Passing his tablet over to Coughlin to continue checking off the manifest, Evan followed the lieutenant towards the command offices. He was so distracted by the sharpness of the creases in said lieutenant's uniform that it took him a couple of paces to realise that two DaedalusMarines had fallen in behind him. And suddenly the lieutenant's newly-minted look wasn't so funny but was instead a clear message that nobody from Atlantis had been trusted by Caldwell to deliver this message to Colonel Sheppard's second-in-command.

Evan knew that later he'd feel the sting of humiliation over the number of people who saw him being marched through the corridors, but for now he was too busy trying to work out what the hell this could be about. And wondering where Colonel Sheppard was because he'd give anything right now to hear that lazy voice wondering just what Major Lorne had done this time - used the wrong colour pen to sign off the last bunch of AL/27b forms, perhaps. Evan knew he'd done nothing wrong, unless it was to allow himself to become very slightly corrupted by Colonel Sheppard's attitude toward the ironing of uniforms, so all he could think was that somebody had slipped something forbidden onto the Daedalus'srequisition and he'd not noticed and signed off on it. Which meant that yes, he was ultimately responsible and might well be in line for an interview without coffee but nothing more serious than that if it turned out Dr McKay had gotten impatient and felt that his research was more important than some pettifogging law about smuggling.

The panic started when they reached the area outside Dr Weir's office, because Colonel Sheppard was standing there with Dr Weir and the look on Sheppard's face – and Weir's for that matter – was not good. So not good. Colonel Sheppard looked frustrated and, so far as it was possible to tell with him, angry, while Dr Weir had that pinched look she wore whenever she was forced to make a decision she deemed ethically wrong but ultimately necessary. Neither of them said a word as Lt Irons-with-intent opened the door and announced him.

Colonel Caldwell was sitting behind Dr Weir's desk, and once Evan saw Colonel Caldwell's grey eyes, looking more alien now than they'd ever done when he'd had that Goa'uld in him, thoughts of Colonel Sheppard and Dr Weir fled.

"Major Lorne reporting, sir." He came to attention, giving the salute that was so rarely needed here in Atlantis.

Caldwell left him at attention a shade too long, and Evan's unease intensified even further.

"At ease," he said at last. "Sit down, Major."

Evan sat down opposite him. The two Marines who'd escorted him here were stationed in the room, one on either side of the door. At least he still had his side-arm. Things couldn't be thatbad if he hadn't been relieved of it.

"What is the nature of your relationship with FBI Agent Colby Granger?"

And fuck – things really could be that bad. How could they have found out? He hadn't been back to Earth for two months, and they hadn't had any contact beyond exchanging a few completely innocuous emails as part of the regular data burst.

"We served alongside each other in Afghanistan, and have kept in touch since as friends, sir," he said.

"When did you meet? How did you meet?"

Evan kept it to the bare minimum, outlining the mission in Afghanistan that had first brought him into official contact with Colby. The night on the beach on Hawaii, the furtive blow job that had taught Evan why sane people did not have sex on the beach because sand got everywhere,didn't count. Not just because confessing to it was obviously career suicide, but because he hadn't even known Colby's name then.

In response to questioning, he told Caldwell about the way the smartass army captain had kept crossing paths with him in the mess tent and that they'd ended up hanging out despite the whole air force / army thing. He wasn't sure whether Caldwell's growing irritation was more at a zoomie – or airhead, as Colby insisted on calling him - voluntarily spending time with a grunt, or the fact that Evan's answers obviously weren't giving him what he was looking for.

"How many other friends from back then have you kept in touch with?"

"Three or four, sir, along with those I worked with at SGC." Christmas cards counted as in touch, right?

"So why keep in touch with Granger? Was that your decision, or his?"

"Just one of those things that happens sometimes, sir; we exchanged a few emails, as I did with other colleagues, and it was just easy to stay in contact with him being in LA and my family being in San Francisco."

Evan's ability to provide clear and mainly truthful answers made it easier to fight down the panic that had been clawing through him. And as he did so, he began to realise there was something weird going on. He had no experience of this sort of interview from either side but he would have expected that by now there'd be a charge of conduct unbecoming, instead of these inexorable, never-ending questions about how many emails he'd sent, how many Granger had sent, what email addresses had been used, whose idea it had been for Lorne first to visit Granger, how often he visited him, what they did on those occasions, whether Granger had ever visited him in Colorado, and so on and so on ad nauseam. Even in his confusion over what was going on, he knew this was bad news – very bad news. There was a cold anger in Caldwell that kept Evan completely on his guard, composed and careful.

At length – and it was, according to Evan's best guess, more than two hours since he'd first marched into the room – Caldwell fell silent and pushed his chair back. Though that took him out of Evan's direct line of sight, Evan was certain that his eyes never left Evan's face.

"You're probably wondering what this is all about, Major," he said at last.

"Yes, sir." Evan kept his eyes fixed on the wall directly in front of him.

"Colby Granger has been charged with spying on the United States for the Chinese Government. He's pleading guilty as charged."

The room started to swim as Evan's gaze jumped to Caldwell's face. It was only the calculation in Caldwell's grey eyes that kept him steady.

"There must be some mistake, sir," he said. "Colby – he risked his life fighting for his country in Afghanistan." And he wouldn't do that, but even in his shock he knew argument from emotion wouldn't sway Caldwell.

"There's been no mistake, Major. So what I need to find out is if you're compromised too."

Evan couldn't help it – he swallowed. He… this… God, yesterday all he'd had to worry about was getting the life sucked out of him by the Wraith and suddenly he was being suspected of betraying his country, his family, the Air Force, Atlantis.

"No, sir," he said, ramrod straight in his chair. "I am not."

Caldwell's sharp, hostile eyes assessed him for the longest minutes of Evan's life, and that included the time on M6G-549 when that giant squid-like thing had been using all of its very many tentacles to check him out as a potential mate.

"I'm not entirely convinced, Major," he said at least, sounding bizarrely pleasant about it. "I think you haven't been quite truthful with me. Luckily for you, Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Edwards, General O'Neill and Dr Weir appear to think very highly of your loyalty and your commonsense. And your financials haven't thrown up any red flags."

Evan swallowed, again. God, Colby, what the hell was going on? This was all upside down and backwards and yeah, Evan thought things about his country were screwed up at times but he'd never do anything like that. And he knew Colby wouldn't either. Knew it as well as he knew the man, which after five years of fighting alongside one another, of hiding what they had from assholes like Caldwell, and loving one another, was pretty damn well.

"Perhaps you've been tapped for information by Granger. Maybe you've inadvertently let things slip that you shouldn't over a few beers or through trying to impress an old Service friend."

Evan's head was shaking even as Caldwell said it. The only place he tried to impress Colby was in bed – or wherever they happened to be at the time – because inter-Service rivalry never died and it was a matter of pride to demonstrate that zoomies were better than grunts in the sack. But that was all. Colby never asked, never hinted, never pushed about anything to do with Evan's deployment even when Evan had to cancel leave with little or no notice due to emergencies such as Dr Parrish being held hostage by sentient plants which had developed a crush on Colonel Sheppard.

"No, sir," he snapped out. "Agent Granger understands military protocol. He's never asked where I'm stationed, and I've never told him." And he was screwed on two fronts now if Caldwell picked up on his subconscious self-betrayal with that choice of language.

"Do you know Dwayne Carter?"

"I knew him out in Afghanistan," Evan said, his head spinning at the change of tack, "but I haven't seen him or had any contact with him since coming back."

"Did you know that Granger and Carter have kept in contact?"

"No, sir." But it surprised him that they had; he'd have thought Colby wouldn't have been able to get away quickly enough from Carter and his creepy insistence that Colby owed him. Evan never had worked out if Carter had been in love with Colby or just with the idea that Colby owed him everythingand so could deny him nothing.

"All right, Major. You're relieved of duties and barred from gate travel until further notice."

Evan was on his feet, saluting, but he didn't know how he'd got there because his legs were numb. All of him was numb.

The numbness faded slightly when he found Colonel Sheppard leaning against the railings outside Dr Weir's office.

"Walk with me, Major," he said.

"Yes, sir."

They walked in silence until they got back to Evan's quarters, and it was clear that Colonel Sheppard expected to come in with him.

Evan found himself standing somewhat helplessly in the middle of his room. He had no idea how the day that had started so normally – started well, even, with the delivery of delights such as coffee and C4 - had gone so spectacularly wrong. Relieved of duties? Caldwell might as well have said he was guilty and would be going back on the Daedalus to face trial. The only way he might be able to convince him that he wasn't lying about the spying thing would be to tell him the truth about the other thing, and that way he'd just be facing a different sort of a trial and discharge. Which was still better than facing the death penalty, his mind helpfully supplied, and that's when his knees threatened to buckle.

Colonel Sheppard was already sprawling in Evan's chair, so he lowered himself to the bed. Because Colby – what the hell had happened? What had Colby done that could have ended up like this? He was the last person Evan would ever suspect of being a traitor; he made loyalty into an art form, annoyingly so at times. And he couldn't, wouldn'tbelieve that the man he knew could come to this end, disgraced and vilified and possibly executed like the worst kind of criminal all because of some stupid, stupid mistake that someone had made.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Colonel Sheppard asked.

Evan shook his head, confused and miserable. "I don't know," he said. "They say Colby's a spy, but he's not, sir – I know he's not."

"Colby?"

Evan gestured impatiently. "Colby Granger. We served together in Afghanistan, then he joined the FBI and I went to SGC. We've stayed friends."

"You ever think he could be your friend and still be a spy?"

Evan's head flew up and he stared at Colonel Sheppard. "No, sir," he bit out.

Sheppard shrugged. "I'm just saying that the two don't have to be mutually exclusive."

"No, sir."

Sheppard let it go, lounging to his feet in the way that initially had driven Evan mad but that he now found he liked so much more than the alternative, all crisp salutes and 'at ease' and 'relieved of duties'. Evan got to his feet; however much lounging might go on, Colonel Sheppard was still his CO.

"I'll talk to Caldwell," Sheppard said.

"Thank you, sir," Evan said, and to his dismay his voice cracked slightly on the words.

"Well who else is going to do my paperwork? Cadman?" Colonel Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "I do have to submit something occasionally, not just charred scraps."

Evan simply nodded as Sheppard left. He was grateful, more grateful than he could express that Sheppard was going in to bat for him. Which only made him think about Colby all over again. What about Eppes? That team of his wouldn't have thrown him to the wolves, surely; not the team Colby talked about with such pride and fondness. Eppes would have stood up for his agent. And David, definitely. There was no way that David would have stood by and watched Colby be railroaded like this. But he guessed when it was Homeland Security involved, a few ordinary FBI agents couldn't do much.

He didn't go to the mess hall that evening. He didn't intend to face anybody until he was back on duty and it was clear that it had all been some typical military screw-up, as he knew the scientists would see it. He wasn't so sure how the rest of the military would view it, but he had Colonel Sheppard's clear support as well as the authority to order extra training sessions with Ronon for anybody who looked at him sideways, so he would find a way back from the public humiliation. As long as Colonel Sheppard prevailed, of course; what if Caldwell still thought he was guilty? He evidently knew that something was off. Evan had always been happy to have Caldwell's instincts on his side in battle but not so much now he was the enemy.

Instead of eating, he spent the evening pacing round his quarters, wondering if he was going to get shipped back to Earth tomorrow and what would happen to him then. If he came under real suspicion as a spy and there was no other way out, he knew he'd have to come clean about him and Colby, and the consequences of that just didn't bear thinking about.

And whatever mess Colby had ended up in didn't bear thinking about either, but Evan couldn't stop himself. He wondered how he was, and where he was, trying not to think of him locked up somewhere, despised by everyone. At least with a charge of treason he wasn't likely to be in with any prison's general population; as a law enforcement officer he'd have been eaten alive if he had been.

And he wondered what the hell was going on. Because it was one thing to be mistakenly accused or set up, but another entirely to plead guilty. He put it down to stress that it took him so long to come up with the answer to that one; a few minutes shy of 0300hrs, he realized that Caldwell had lied to him, trying to trick him into a confession. And with that his mind cleared a bit and he relaxed enough to grab a quick shower and try to get some sleep.

It was a pretty futile effort, with his mind going round and round the hamster wheel of what the morning would bring for him, and what the hell had happened to Colby. Colby, who he'd met before the rescue mission that he'd told Caldwell about, but who he'd only known at that point as Hawaii guy of the good blowjob.

Once it crossed his mind he grabbed at the memory, needing something to drown everything else out. Evan had only been at Schofield briefly but he knew some of the guys from previous postings and they'd dragged him down to the beach on his last night for a party. It was a hell of a party, from what Evan remembered – far too much alcohol, and bonfires and music and some very drunken dancing, though not from him. And there was the grunt whose eyes reflected the fire as he stared an instant too long at Evan, and then looked quickly away when he noticed he'd been seen, head ducked down in denial. Evan couldn't see him in the flickering firelight as well as he might have liked to, but some things were clear enough: the long clean lines of his body, the military haircut and the chain at his neck, proclaiming dogtags hidden under his t-shirt. His t-shirt which was nicely fitted and showed off his solidly-muscled body to perfection. Evan had taken all of that in before looking away. He'd looked back later and found he was being watched, again. This time he returned the look for the briefest instant.

A while later he got up and took himself off for a walk into the darkness, along the shoreline. Even if it came to nothing – and he knew better than that, he'd exchanged too many such looks over the years, looks that said everything and yet nothing – he'd enjoy the sound of the surf in the warm night, and the stars were so bright here, so luminous that he almost itched for a sketch pad. Far enough away from the party to be safe, but not so far he couldn't be found, he stopped. A few minutes later a figure moved through the moonlight towards him, the silhouette of his solid body unmistakable even though he'd only seen it for a few minutes.

The guy stopped, and without a word spoken they went up the beach, away from the sea until the shadow of trees sheltered them from the moonlight's betrayal. With nothing more than a 'You want?' and a 'You?', meaningless words but some sort of ritual acknowledgment was needed, they'd moved close to one another. The guy's hand rested for an instant on Evan's stomach, large and warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, making his muscles quiver in anticipation. Then his hand slid down and pressed against Evan's dick through his cargo pants, palm feeling the hard length of him before he opened his fly. Evan had cut off the noise he wanted to make, cut it off mercilessly out here in the open where sound travelled so well through the night air.

He'd ended up on his back in the sand, looking up at that night sky, as a slick mouth moved on him. His hips were lifting, it was too good and it had been too long, and his hands were on the other guy's head, guiding, not demanding, but it turned out he didn't need to guide because this guy knew – really knew – just how Evan liked it, a hint of a tease but also quick, knowing the risks. His mouth was hot and wet and his fingers explored Evan's balls until he pulled off and brought Evan the last bit of the way with his hand.

It had taken him a couple of minutes to recover but the other guy seemed content to wait, settling on the sand fairly close to him and watching him in the near dark. When Evan opened the guy's shorts and slid his hand inside, the head of his dick was already wet. Evan held his hips down – one thing he never liked was having someone shove their dick in his mouth, or having his head jammed down on someone – and took the full length into his mouth. He could tell by how the guy was shifting under him that he was loving it but he remained silent. He'd obviously taken the hint from the way Evan was holding him down and kept his hands to himself, clenching and unclenching in the sand, grains running through his fingers, but then he made a sudden abortive attempt grasp Evan's hair, to pull him off. Evan drew back and eased him off with his hands, hearing the gasps that came out of him as he tensed and then relaxed on the sand in front of him.

There'd still been no words as they'd gone their separate ways, Evan heading down the beach, the other guy back towards the fires and the shouts from the party. No names, no ranks, no serial numbers – the usual drill. And if Evan had later found himself occasionally comparing others' techniques to that night, it was to do with the setting – the soft black sky and the warm ocean breeze, so different from the sweat and the fear in Afghanistan.

He hadn't expected ever to see Hawaii guy again, and Colby liked to needle him about the fact it wasn't till he saw Colby shirtless on their third meeting that he'd actually recognized him. Colby hadn't had the same problem; it seemed Evan had made quite the impression on him.

"That's because till I saw you I hadn't known the Air Force had no minimum height requirement," he'd say whenever Evan got too self-satisfied about that fact. That was rich given Colby was only a couple of inches taller than him, but it usually led to Evan proving to Colby that it wasn't size but what you did with it that counted. Which, on reflection, was probably exactly why Colby said it.

Damn, Colby. Evan turned over in bed, his heart and his mind racing. What the hell was going on?

He was up and dressed long before the shift change, forgoing his usual morning run because he didn't want to run the gauntlet of suspicious stares and difficult questions until he knew for certain what was going to happen. He realized that some people might think he'd been confined to quarters because he hadn't been out of them since seeing Caldwell, but discretion was the better part of valour right now.

He was rearranging the contents of his drawers for the fifteenth time, making sure everything was ready to be packed at short notice, when the door chime went. Colonel Sheppard was there, surprising Evan who'd expected to be summoned by radio when the Colonel was ready to see him.

Colonel Sheppard didn't beat about the bush, a kindness that Evan appreciated.

"You're reinstated as from now," he said. "And none of this goes on your record."

Evan closed his eyes for the briefest moment, relief a physical sensation blossoming in his chest. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"I'd suggest you avoid Colonel Caldwell until he leaves," Colonel Sheppard continued. "Rodney was recalibrating the south side of the city's emergency protocols last night; apparently all those doors opening and closing caused the Daedalus'sproximity alarms to run a little wild through the night."

Normally Evan would have responded with a suitably solicitous comment about those poor souls who'd been bunking on the Daedalus, but everything was still too raw, too difficult to process.

"Yes, sir," he said instead.

He got a swift, assessing glance from Colonel Sheppard before his CO unpeeled himself from the doorframe. "Any time you want to get started, Major, feel free - at least half the Daedalus's freight seemed to be paperwork intended for my desk." He paused. "Huh. Maybe Cadman wouldhave been a better choice."

As Colonel Sheppard ambled off down the corridor, Evan ran his hand across his mouth and found to his horror that he was shaking slightly. He was under no illusion that, if not for Colonel Sheppard's dedication to leaving no man behind, he would be on the Daedalus, headed for earth, a hearing of some description, and a very uncertain future.

Once Caldwell had left, late that morning, Evan felt he could almost breathe again. Almost but not quite, because he was stuck here in the Pegasus galaxy – and this was the first time he'd ever viewed it as being stuck here – and unable to find out anything more about what had happened to Colby.

He went to see Colonel Sheppard that evening even though the Colonel was officially off-duty, which meant he was sprawled out on a stool in one of the labs, annoying Dr McKay. Not all that much different from being on duty, then.

"Come on in, Lorne," he said when Evan appeared in the doorway. "Maybe youcan convince Rodney of the advantage of having remote-controlled jumpers in that war against the Wraith we're having."

McKay stared at him, his mouth working soundlessly for a blissful instant before his vocal cords apparently caught up with his brain. "You said they'd be cool," he said indignantly. "Any idiot can see they'd be tactically advantageous, but all you wanted them for was to have one hover with its hatch down so you could knock your precious golf balls into it."

"I didn't say that," Sheppard protested. "Lorne, did you hear me say that?"

Knowing from long and painful experience not to get involved, Evan simply stated his mission. "I'm due some leave, sir," he said.

Colonel Sheppard looked at him. "How long d'you need?"

He shrugged. "A week, maybe?"

"Make sure Coughlin's up to speed on everything, and you can go from end of shift tomorrow," Colonel Sheppard said.

"Oh, just like that? You do realise that ZPMs are a finite resource and not simply there to enable you to dial earth every time one of your Marines runs into some sort of hitch in their love life, don't you, Sheppard?"

"McKay."

Despite his momentarily screwed-shut eyes, Evan could hear the clear warning in Colonel Sheppard's tone.

"Yes, well, don't worry about the person who's going to have to find ways to make restitution for all the power you're so merrily using," McKay said, but when Evan dared to open his eyes again he thought McKay looked slightly flustered. And possibly very slightly shame-faced, which led Evan to the horrible suspicion that he knew about everything and felt sorryfor him, like it was all true and Colby had lied to him.

And he was so ignoring the whole 'love life' thing because Colonel Sheppard was as well, and there was no way that McKay had any idea - it was just his mouth running away with him as usual.

"Just keep your head down, Lorne," the Colonel said. "Spook stuff can get pretty nasty - you don't want to put yourself in the political firing line if it's not necessary."

"Leave no one behind, sir," Evan said, standing at something perilously close to attention.

Colonel Sheppard had said nothing to that but the look on his face stayed with Evan as he wished them both good night and retreated. He'd been understanding – and maybe just a little approving – but there was a shadow there which Evan refused to acknowledge because it meant that Sheppard had already made up his mind about Colby. He'd made up his mind without ever meeting or knowing the man, without knowing the way he'd put his life on the line out in Afghanistan, the way he did every day in LA. He thought Colby was a traitor.

Lorne's shift the next day was surprisingly quiet. Probably, he thought, because Colonel Sheppard's team weren't off-world so there were no unscheduled gate activations followed by drama, mortal peril, or general shenanigans in the gate room. He took a break from all the admin half way through the morning and wandered over there anyway just to check, the walk giving him a chance to review some of the decisions he'd made the previous night.

While he thought that Homeworld Security would likely trump Homeland Security, he'd decided to head to LA first rather than waste time at Cheyenne Mountain. He wanted to see Colby, before anything else. He needed to know he was okay, needed to see that for himself, to hear him even in these circumstances making some sort of smartass comment in that drawl of his, and to find out from him what the hell had happened. In LA Colby's team could tell him where Colby was being held and what the hell this was about. Once he'd gathered the evidence he needed to get Colby cleared, then thatwould be the time to see what favours he could call in from his time at SGC.

He was jerked from his thoughts by the alarming sight of Dr Weir moving purposefully in his direction. He turned away casually, making it obvious that he was speaking on his headset, before double-timing it out of there. Colonel Sheppard's office would be no sanctuary if she was on the mission that the expression on her face had seemed to indicate, so he ended up deciding to conduct a spot check in the armoury. There was no such thing as too many spot checks in military life.

He was examining the rocket launchers when Ronon came in.

"Dr Weir's looking for you," Ronon said.

"I know."

"Huh."

"I think she wants to talk to me."

"Huh."

Ronon had a truly impressive range of grunts, running the gamut from intimidating to interrogative to understanding about Dr Weir's determination to run an emotionally healthy base here in Atlantis and the need for this to be avoided at all costs. He took a handful of grenades and disappeared again, and it was testament to the state of Evan's mind that it took him several minutes to wonder just what the hell Ronon wanted with grenades. In the end he decided it was probably best not to know.

After a decent amount of time, he risked leaving the shelter of the armoury, figuring that Dr Weir's attention would have moved onto something more important by now. It seemed he was right as he spent the rest of the day undisturbed, simply counting the minutes till he could get back to earth and do something. Every hour that went by was another hour Colby was sitting in a cell. The sooner he could get to earth, the sooner he could start to clear this whole mess up and get Colby freed.