Evan woke the next morning to the sound of a nurse settling another patient in the same ward. He blinked the gritty feeling from his eyes, thankful for the warmth of the sun coming through the window. He still could not recall anything that had happened before yesterday, but the long night had ended. Somehow, the sunlight made everything seem less overwhelming.

He shifted in his bed, drawing the nurse with his actions. She smiled at him, her brown hair curled around the sides, and he nodded once before reaching up to rub his face. She apparently decided that he'd just awakened from sleep and left him alone. Evan carefully pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his robe. After trudging across the ward to the bathroom, he risked a glance at his ward-mate before settling back into his little cubicle. The other patient slept, so he made as little noise as possible.

Rather than climbing back into bed, Evan sat in the chair. His body ached from his fall yesterday as well as the inactivity. He'd caught glimpses of himself in the tiny mirror of the bathroom and knew that he wasn't accustomed to just sitting around. He was accustomed to hard work, and he wished he could remember what that hard labor was. But, right now, his mind was as fuzzy as it had been when he regained consciousness.

He reached for the pad of paper that he'd used last night. Some of the doodles had a dreamlike quality to them, unfocused and without much detail. But one was pristine. The woman stood with her arms crossed, a smile on her face and bringing out eyes that sparkled with life. Evan couldn't remember her name or how he knew her, but his mind filled in the color. Her eyes were brown, a warm chocolate color that sparkled with bits of gold when one looked closely. Her blond hair caught the sunlight on most days, creating a halo around her head. And she always had that smile for him.

Who was she? His wife? Girl? He may not have remembered her name, but his heart remembered her. It clenched in his chest, leaving him with the niggling sensation that he'd left her behind. If he could only remember who he was and where he was from, he might find this woman waiting for him.

The nurse interrupted his thoughts, bringing his breakfast. It was the same one as yesterday, and she smiled as she set his tray on his lap. Evan thanked her and quietly ate the food, not complaining. She straightened his bed, checked on the other patient, and then left him alone again. By the time he finished eating, he felt the desire to walk about, to stretch muscles unused for too long, burning in the back of his brain. But he needed clothing first.

The nurse returned, her hands filled with folds of white fabric and leaving him wondering if she'd read his mind. "Do you need some help?"

"Ah. . ." He shook his head slightly. "No."

She smirked, telling him without speaking that she'd known the answer before she asked. When she left him alone, Evan slipped out of the robe and carefully dressed. His ribs ached horribly, and his head had started pounding a while ago. But he refused to take anything for it. He was alive, and feeling pain meant something. Who knew whether the medications they'd used on him had caused this fuzziness?

Tired of the questions, Evan draped his robe over the foot of his bed and settled back into his chair. Unfortunately, the questions would not stop. Did they intend to keep him here and treat him like an invalid? He wasn't disabled, just without memory. Reaching for his sketch pad, he spent the next little while trying to stave off boredom.

The doctor came while he drew curlicues around yet another picture of the unnamed woman. Evan glanced up and set aside the drawing. "Hey, Doc."

"You sound better today." The doctor perched on the edge of his bed. "I am Andren."

Evan smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes, well, you were in sorry shape when they brought you in here. You had multiple cuts that required many stitches in addition to severely bruised ribs and. . . ." Andren pointed to Evan's head.

Evan nodded. "Yeah. I've. . .ah. . .been trying to remember things, and I can't."

"I knew you would." Andren smiled, his well-kept beard stretching and reminding Evan of someone close to him. Father, maybe? Or was it his grandfather? He wished he could remember. Andren sat back slightly. "That's why I've asked Josus to come in today. He's the one who brought you to us and told us about what you'd done. He'll be here in a few hours."

"Oh, good." Evan nodded. "Though, with another patient here in the ward, wouldn't it be better for us to speak elsewhere?"

"Right you are." Andren smiled. "How would you like to head outside today?"

Evan's eyes went to the window, and he nearly ran for the door. Rather than giving in to impulse, he grinned a the doctor. "Sounds great."

"I'll make sure Jadina returns with a wheelchair."

"With all due respect, Doc, I'd rather walk." Evan couldn't tell where the request came from, but he refused to act like an invalid. "If something happens, then I'll use the wheelchair."

Andren eyed him for a moment. "Very well." He pushed to his feet and caught sight of the tablet Evan had been using. He pointed. "May I?"

Evan shrugged and watched Andren's expressions as he perused the sketches.

The doctor's eyebrows rose and lowered as he turned the three pages. "You are quite the artist, Evan."

"Thanks." Evan shrugged. "Last night, I just drew what I dreamed."

Andren flipped back to the first page, looking at the fuzzy images and nodding. "I wish I could tell you when your memory will return, but, as I said, we know so little about the human brain. It could be one little thing that triggers it." His voice trailed off. "This woman is striking." He turned the tablet to show the image that Evan had sketched over and over.

"That she is," Evan agreed.

Andren's head came up. "You know who she is?"

"No." Evan rubbed his face. "Well, I think I do, but I can't remember a name. Just her face. And that she's. . .important."

"Wife, maybe?"

Evan glanced at his left hand, looking for something. "I. . .don't know."

Andren put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out." He set the tablet down. "Who knows? She may be the one to help you recover your memories."

"Maybe." Evan didn't say anything else as Andren left. He stared at the notepad. Who was the woman? Where was she? Did she wait at home for him to return? And why did he keep looking at his left hand when he thought about whether she could be his wife or not?

oOo

Sheppard stormed out of Woolsey's office and ignored the surprised glances coming from the control room. That man had no idea what it was like to live in Pegasus. He already wanted to declare Lorne MIA and promote Teldy to take his place. Sheppard had no doubt that Teldy would make an excellent second-in-command as she'd already taken up the slack caused by Lorne's absence. But she wasn't Lorne. While Sheppard had no problems with having Teldy as his second-in-command, he wasn't happy with Lorne's disappearance.

Something just wasn't right. He mulled it over in his mind as he walked toward the infirmary. Lorne had completely disappeared, and they had found no trace of him. No one on any of the worlds they visited had seen him. And Sheppard knew Lorne wasn't the type to go AWOL. The Air Force was his life, and Lorne would likely die before he retired. Sheppard's issues with Teldy taking Lorne's place stemmed from this firm belief that they'd missed something back on the original planet.

Besides, they shouldn't be giving up the search just yet. Sheppard knew they had five planets left to search, those that McKay had pulled off the DHD crystals on Orenth. Woolsey knew that. He should never have broached the subject until they'd exhausted their search. But Woolsey hadn't been in Pegasus all that long. He'd struggled to make the right decisions when Keller had nearly turned into a Wraith hive ship. Protocol was everything for a person like Woolsey, and Sheppard realized that Keller's brush with death, to mention nothing of Ronon's betrayal and subsequent detox, hadn't yet softened the man to the realities of life in Atlantis. He hadn't been here long enough.

McKay appeared just as Sheppard wanted to hit something. "Oh, hey. How'd it go?"

Sheppard glared.

"That good?" McKay shrugged. "It's Woolsey."

"It shouldn't be happening, Rodney." John stopped and stared at him. "You saw how badly Keller took the news that Lorne wasn't returning. How do you think she'd react when she found out he'd been declared MIA? How do you think the base will react? Lorne wasn't just my second-in-command. He's one of the finest officers on this base, and he deserves the same respect as anyone else."

"Hey, I know all that." McKay turned toward the infirmary, his fingers already flying over the tablet he carried. "I already did the math. If we pull another fifty addresses off the DHD crystals on the planets we have left to search, we wind up with a grand total of. . . ."

"Five hundred planets," John answered. "Just from the last five planets. If we total all fifty planets, with about fifty addresses each, we get over two thousand."

"Well, twenty-five hundred, to be exact." McKay wilted as Sheppard stole his thunder.

Sheppard held up a finger. "But, what happens if these last five hundred planets don't have signs of Lorne on them and we pull another fifty off each DHD? It just balloons out of control."

"All I'm saying is that it's only five hundred planets."

"Only five hundred?" Sheppard glared at him. "That's a lot, Rodney."

"Well, it's better than the twenty-five hundred or thousands or millions that are in the Pegasus galaxy."

Sheppard admitted that McKay had a point. "No matter what happened, Lorne would have contacted us by now if he'd been able. That means he's either held captive or. . . ."

"Don't even say it," McKay cautioned as they entered the infirmary.

Keller glanced up from where she worked on Ronon's latest sparring accident. The Satedan had taken the disappearance of one of his friends badly, and he spent most evenings taking it out on the new Marines. Fortunately, Lorne's team wasn't part of that group.

Sheppard moved to the hospital bed where Ronon watched Keller finish stitching his arm. "How ya doing, buddy?"

Ronon glared. "Fine."

Sheppard turned to Keller. "Is he okay for a mission?"

Her eyes widened. "Another one?"

Sheppard glanced at McKay, who immediately began trying to engage Ronon in conversation, as he took her elbow and gently led her away from Ronon's side. "We're down to five planets left to search. That'll only last this week, provided we don't run into trouble. After that, Woolsey's said he's calling off the search to focus on new exploration. We'll be allowed to continue the search on our travels, but we won't be devoting multiple teams to it."

Sheppard watched that news hit her squarely in the face. She closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened her eyes, they held something Sheppard hadn't seen in a long time. He'd seen it in the mirror when Nancy left him. "Okay," she said in a trembling voice. "Just. . .let me know how things go out there."

"You got it." Sheppard squeezed her elbow once before leaving. He'd known that Lorne and the doc had feelings for one another, but he hadn't known that they'd acted on those feelings until Lorne hadn't come back. Then, she'd virtually run from the infirmary as she dissolved into tears. They'd done a remarkable job keeping everything under the radar because the gossip going around Atlantis indicated that their relationship was relatively new.

Thirty minutes later, Sheppard flew a Jumper through the wormhole intent on bringing his second-in-command home. He returned three hours later, angry and empty-handed. That evening, while sparring with Teyla, he admitted the truth to himself. Lorne may never come home. Sheppard just hoped that Woolsey would be proven wrong. Otherwise, one of the best CMOs Atlantis had ever had would grieve for the remainder of her life.

oOo

That afternoon, Evan slowly walked out of the hospital and into the sun. He wore a white tunic-like shirt with loose white pants. Apparently it was their hospital attire for men. He found them quite comfortable and was grateful that his behind wasn't sticking out.

After that thought, Evan stopped and frowned. Why would he think something so strange? Glancing around, he saw that all the patients wore the same outfit he had or, if they were women, a long dress with lace along the high neck and long sleeves. No one had their behinds exposed to anyone.

Knowing that Jadina, the nurse, followed with a wheelchair, he kept moving. His sore muscles complained, but he enjoyed the activity. Sitting next to his bed, listening to the other patient in the ward groan in pain as she tossed and turned in the bed, simply didn't appeal. Not any longer. He wanted to get out of here, to try and figure out who he was and where he needed to go. And he would start that in just a few moments.

Josus, the man that Andren said would meet him, sat under a tree, the bench completely shaded and somewhat isolated from the main pathway. Evan padded over the soft grass, his feet barely making a sound, as he approached the man. Josus looked comfortable, but Evan recognized the tension in his shoulders and the way his eyes watched every person that approached. When he saw Evan, he pushed to his feet and walked over. Easily six-and-a-half feet tall, he had the gaunt appearance of one who'd gone without food for too long and had spent too much time in the sun. His blue eyes were hard, and Evan blinked. Those were the eyes of a survivor.

Josus nodded slowly, almost in a bow, as he approached. "Evan. It was good to hear that you are recovering."

"Yeah." Evan nodded and settled on the bench, his aching ribs easing a touch. "If you can say that a crack on the head and bruised ribs is 'recovering.'" He made a motion, as if putting quotations around the final word, as he spoke.

Josus gave him a strange look. "You've been unconscious for a week. Andren was unsure as to whether you would ever recover. And, now, he tells me you cannot remember."

Evan shook his head. "I wish I could." He narrowed his eyes. "I keep trying but. . . ." He shrugged rather than finishing that sentence. Turning to Josus, he asked, "Can you tell me what we did out there?"

"What we did?" Josus seemed surprised. "You mean, what you did out there."

"Sorry?" Evan's eyebrows rose to his hairline. What was Josus talking about? Andren said something about them escaping, not that he had escaped.

Josus shook his head, a sardonic grin coming to his face. "You were a newcomer to the camp. There was always something about you. I knew you weren't from this world, that you'd come from somewhere, maybe the same place the Ancestors spoke of in their writings. But you never said. Just went to work. And helped five of us escape."

"The POW camp?"

"Yes." Josus's eyes took on a distant look, and his good-natured expression slipped, allowing the anger and lingering trauma to appear. "You organized us. Even when the first four of our group fell, you would not let us stop. Yelling and pushing us down the path, your words always of encouragement. I don't know who you really are or where you're really from, Evan, but you're a commander. Born and bred."

"A commander?"

Josus nodded. "There's no other way to describe it. You planned our escape like it was a top-secret campaign to infiltrate enemy territory. And maybe it was. I don't know." Josus fell silent. "It was difficult to hear that you had no memory of who you even were. I looked forward to getting to know the man who saved my life."

Staring at the older man as he struggled with his emotions, Evan wondered if it were better that he did not remember. He'd only been at the camp for a week, according to this guy, and he wasn't certain he wanted to know everything that had happened. Maybe that was the cause of the amnesia. Then, he shook his head. If his amnesia were brought on by trauma, he'd be in worse condition than a crack on the head and bruised ribs.

What if it were about the woman he kept drawing? For some reason, Evan's heart clenched when the thought about all the things that could possibly have been done to her. And his still-muddled mind surely wasn't thinking up the really bad stuff.

Beside him, Josus heaved a sigh. "Well, at least it wasn't the Wraith."

Evan blinked. "The who?"

"Wraith." Josus looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "I thought for sure you'd remember the Wraith."

Evan shook his head.

"They come from the sky, always from the sky." Josus's eyes went to the blue expanse overhead. "They're hideous, and they cull whenever they can, taking as many as they can find. I've never seen one of them feed, but I've heard stories. And it's never a good story."

"Feed?"

"Yes." Josus glanced at him again. "The Wraith feed on humans. Somehow, they drain the life out of you. We've been fortunate in Talgrom to never really see the sort of horror that causes. But some of us think that it will come one day. And, when it does come, it won't matter who's side you were on in this war. Only which one dies first."

Evan opened his mouth to ask more questions but held them in by sheer willpower. He wanted to know what war Josus spoke of, why it was so important, what advantage they could gain on these Wraith, and so many other things. But Josus's eyes had closed, as if he'd turned off the flow of information. And something in Evan warned him against pushing the man for information.

Josus turned suddenly. "I should probably get back." He jabbed a thumb over his finger toward the three-story red brick building next to Evan's hospital. "I'm staying over there for now. But I'll be out here daily if you're able to join me."

Evan nodded and stuck out his hand. "Thanks for the information."

Josus frowned slightly and shook his head. "Wish there was more I could do." Then, he stood and walked away, his own feet silent on the grass.

Evan sat for a few more moments, trying to digest everything that Josus had said. He was a hero? Part of him wished to remember what he'd done, but Josus's words led him to believe he might be better off not remembering. After all, it would put the same shadows in his eyes as were in Josus's eyes.

Jadina returned before he'd had a chance to fully absorb everything. He pushed to his feet, breathed in the fresh air, and let her escort him back inside. He hated being a convalescent, but these people weren't about to release him from the hospital just yet. Andren had visited him again, just before he came outside, telling him that he wanted to keep Evan in the hospital for a few more days. He hoped his memory would return in that time. If it didn't, then Evan would need to find a place to stay.

Back inside, Evan settled in the chair and reached for the sketch pad. He looked over the vague images from his dreams last night. The only clear one was the woman. He wished he knew who she was. He wished he knew who he was. The frustration of not knowing his own name or family lineage rose, and he tossed the tablet back onto the counter with more force than necessary.

oOo

He sat on a bed. His hospital bed. But he wasn't wearing his hospital attire. The tunic had been replaced by a thick, heavy black vest, and weapons of some sort sat next to him, dark on the white sheets. He looked around, trying to see a location, when she appeared.

Standing straight, she walked toward him, her gray uniform pants whispering in the silence. He knew it was late by the tired expression on her face and the way her blond curls had gone limp. But she'd never looked more beautiful to him. He stared at her, feeling his own exhaustion and an unwillingness to fight what he felt for her.

He loved this woman. He was sure of it.

They talked, but he couldn't tell the topic. Only the sound of her voice. Warm. Rich. High notes with a dusky undertone. He let it roll over him as he tried to listen. But the words got lost in the haze of her nearness. When she looked up from the screen before her, he caught her brown eyes and held the gaze for a long moment.

Then, she leaned toward him. He didn't have to be told a second time. He just leaned in and kissed her. She returned the kiss, sighing as he pulled her into his arms. Knowing that this shouldn't happen, he deepened the kiss, determined to enjoy the one moment of weakness, this one time when no one was looking.

She started to ease back first, and he allowed her. But she kept her eyes closed, and he loved the way she touched her lips. Savoring the taste of her kiss, he smiled.

Evan woke to the silence of the hospital ward and the emptiness of his mind. He remembered the kiss, but nothing surrounding it. Pushing the covers back, he walked barefoot to the chair and let the cool night air prickle his skin as he sat and drew her face in the moonlight. As his pencil scratched along the paper, he let out a deep sigh.

One day, he would find her. And, when he did, he would finish the words he'd started to say to her. Maybe, when that happened, he'd remember.

~TBC