Setting: During Stargate: SG-1 episode 7.01, "Fallen." Daniel Jackson has been located on the planet Vis Uban, although he is missing his memories after being kicked out of the Oma Desala Fan Club. SG-1 brings Daniel back to the SGC with them while other SG teams search the Ancient ruins in the hopes of finding weapons with which to defeat Anubis. Daniel is given temporary quarters, filled with many personal possessions in the hopes that they might help restore his memory.

When he heard the door to the gym swing open, Evan grimaced with the knowledge that he'd been caught. Physical therapy was a real pain in the ass and he really wanted to be back on his feet yesterday, but he was definitely not supposed to be on the parallel bars unsupervised in the middle of the night. He resignedly maneuvered himself back into the wheelchair, expecting that he was probably about to be forcefully ejected. For his own good, naturally.

The person who entered was not one of the nurses (or worse, Dr. Fraiser) come to drag him back to bed, however. The newcomer was a good six feet tall and strongly built, with short brown hair, and bright blue eyes blinking from behind a pair of round glasses. He clutched what seemed to be a picture frame close to his body, though Evan couldn't tell what was in the frame. Trailing behind more like a friendly puppy than a guard was a cheerful (if somewhat bored-looking) SF, who lingered by the door as the man he was escorting wandered further in.

It wasn't hard for Evan to recognize the newcomer, given all the mission reports and documentation that Sgt. Harriman had helpfully provided him during his convalescence. That, and probably the entire base knew within about five minutes that their long-lost archaeologist/linguist/general pain-in-the-ass had once again returned from the dead (though apparently minus his memory).

"Dr. Jackson?" Evan asked with a friendly smile.

"So they tell me," the man replied dryly after a moment of surprise. He probably hadn't expected anyone to be here at this time of night. "Look, if you're looking for a happy reunion, I hate to disappoint you, but I don't remember a thing."

Evan shrugged, wheeling over to him. "You couldn't remember me, anyway, Dr. Jackson. I joined the Program after you, ah, left," he said diplomatically. "I'm Major Evan Lorne, with the SG-11 geological survey team - as soon as I get back on my feet, at least." Evan smiled ruefully as he adjusted his posture in the wheelchair. Hopefully, he'd be ditching the wheels permanently any day now. That would definitely be a relief.

"Nice to meet you, Major." Relief flooded Dr. Jackson's face as he extended his hand, which Evan shook. Dr. Jackson, who was taller than Evan was even when he wasn't stuck in a wheelchair, sat down on a nearby weight bench so he wasn't towering over him (a gesture that Evan appreciated - it was awkward holding a conversation with someone while staring up their nose).

"I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I am to finally meet someone who doesn't know me," Dr. Jackson admitted candidly. "It's, ah, really weird walking around here with everyone telling me how great it is to have me back when I don't even remember being here in the first place!"

"I can imagine! From what I can tell, you're pretty famous around here," agreed Evan as he wiped down his neck and face with a towel. His sweat-dampened T-shirt now clung uncomfortably to his back, but there wasn't anything he could do about that at the moment.

"So I've discovered." The amnesiac archaeologist frowned slightly. He really did look like someone's absent-minded professor. "Jim- no, Jack, Jack- he was talking about fighting some crazy aliens, so what's a geologist doing around here?"

"You know, a lotta people would be surprised," Evan shrugged. "We're searching for naquadah on other planets. Apparently, they use the stuff for pretty much everything. Ship hulls, power sources, things like that."

"Huh. You know, you don't strike me as a geologist type, Major," he remarked abruptly.

"Really? What, then?"

"I dunno. You're just... really outgoing." Dr. Jackson seemed confused by his own statement. Maybe he couldn't figure out why he'd think that geologists wouldn't be extroverts. (To be fair, it was something of a generic stereotype, but most of the scientists at the SGC tended to be at the extreme ends of the spectrum.)

Evan chuckled despite himself. He'd never live this one down if his sister ever found out. Good thing she was hundreds of miles away.

"What?" Dr. Jackson inquired blankly.

"My sister said something like that to me once. She pointed out that I like people a lot more than I like rocks." He laughed again, shaking his head in mock deprecation. "Turns out she was right, because I ended up a jet jock, instead. Being a fighter pilot actually involves a lot more personal interaction than most people realize. I learned fast that things go a lot more smoothly when you get along with your back seat man and your ground crew."

"So, if you're a... fighter pilot, why are you with a geology team, then?"

Evan winced as the muscles in his legs started to cramp up slightly - he'd need to do something about that before getting back to bed. The pain wasn't entirely psychosomatic, unfortunately, and he had no desire to wake up completely crippled again. "Training accident," he explained as he shifted his weight a bit uncomfortably. "The inertial dampeners failed during a high-G maneuver, my CSO and I blacked out. By the time we came to, we had nearly hit the ground already. We ejected, but didn't have enough altitude for the chutes to properly deploy, so we came down hard. My CSO got lucky, walked away with only bruises. I, ah, wasn't so lucky."

"I'm sorry. That sounds... complicated," Dr. Jackson replied, his expression apologetically confused.

"Sorry, Dr. Jackson, that probably meant pretty much nothing to you," Evan said, flushing with embarrassment. "Suffice to say, I was hurt pretty badly, but General Hammond knew about my background in geology, so he offered me a spot with SG-11. Though, if I'm lucky, I might get to go back to flying again after my tour."

"I'm guessing that geology isn't your first love." He offered Evan a conciliatory smile. "Maybe I'll see you around, then."

"Probably. I'm stuck here at the SGC for awhile until I'm cleared by Doc Fraiser to go off-world," Evan explained.

"Fraiser... I think I met her earlier. Short woman, about yea high-" he held his hand to chest height, "-and makes everyone really nervous?"

"That's her," Evan laughed. He once overheard someone call her a Napoleonic powermonger, as apt a description of the base's chief medical officer as he'd ever heard. "Anyway... would you mind if I offered you some completely unsolicited advice? Though you can feel free to tell me where to shove it where the sun don't shine, if you like."

Dr. Jackson made a face at Evan's colorful description. "No, no, go ahead, Major."

"I'm no neurologist, but I can guess that it's gotta be frustrating being here with all these strangers who say they know you. Don't let us pressure you to remember. If it's gonna come back, it's gonna come back. This is about you, not about them," Evan suggested gently.

The other man clutched more tightly at the picture frame in his hand. "Yeah," he sighed, before falling victim to a massive yawn. "Sorry about that," Dr. Jackson apologized.

"No need," Evan waved him off. "It's pretty late, and you have just traveled hundreds of light years across the galaxy. A little jet lag is understandable. I should get some sleep myself." (And be grateful he managed to get some more time on the bars without getting caught, he admitted ruefully. The ache in his legs was worth it.)

"Guess I'll see you around then. Good luck with your..." he gestured vaguely around another yawn, "geological survey."

"Thanks, Doc. And good luck with your... tour." Evan nodded wryly towards the SF lurking by the door. The SF stared blandly back, as if he hadn't been totally listening in to the whole conversation.

"Hey, don't worry, Ross. I still like you," Daniel murmured (not quite inaudibly) as Evan wheeled out the door towards the locker rooms.

"Thank you, sir. Much appreciated," the SF replied.