Chapter Thirteen

Returning to the present, Lorne scrubbed his face and ran his hands through his blessedly short hair. He shook his head at Lindells. "Trust me, Bette, there's not enough time for that. Besides, this is just an evaluation, right?"

Still serious, but giving nothing of her own thoughts away, Lindells nodded. "Okay. Then what about Yann? Would you have a problem with me speaking to him tonight while you sleep?"

Lorne felt himself pale. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. I don't have to speak with him, but finding out why he exists and what sparked his creation could help to ascertain what methods will be needed in treating you."

Lorne considered this. He didn't really like it, but he also knew she knew what she was doing.

Seeing his reluctance, Lindells spoke up. "I don't have to wait until you're asleep. We can use hypnosis to bring him out."

Shaking his head, Lorne told her, "While I'm asleep is fine. If you think you can get anything useful, knock yourself out."

"Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, since you're not ready to discuss what happened, let's cover some basics. You up for it?"

Now being back in territory he was more familiar and comfortable with, Lorne grinned and nodded. "Sure thing. I just hope it isn't as long as that last one the SGC made us all do a few years ago."

Bette grimaced. "No, it's worse. And I wouldn't use it at all if I didn't have to. But, well, it serves its purpose."

Nodding again, Lorne just hoped they'd be done by lunch time.

~o~o~o~

Since his session with Doctor Lindells was private, the observation room and isolation rooms were off limits to everyone until she came out. Even the camera had been turned off for the hours she spent in there. Breathing a shared sigh of relief at the end of the exhaustive questionnaire, the two of them finally stood up and stretched. Left alone again in his isolation room, Lorne again wondered what he would do to fill the time. What he hadn't known was the string of visitors that had come to see him that had been turned away by the guards. Now that word had gotten out that he was awake and able to receive visitors other than command staff, people had queued up to see him.

Lorne couldn't even imagine just how many visitors he was about to have now that word had spread. The first, of course, had been his team. Beckett had initially wondered if having all three of them in there with Lorne at the same time was a good idea. But, after a couple of minutes seeing the four of them together from his vantage point in the observation room, he breathed a sigh of relief. This early on, they had no way of knowing what would trigger an episode or reaction, and Carson had no desire to push the Colonel any further than was needed.

Turning his attention back to Lindells and her initial evaluation results, he left the four of them to their reunion.

~o~o~o~

Wondering how much longer until lunch, Lorne stretched for a bit. After having sat with Lindells for so long he was again feeling cooped up. He was just contemplating what kind of exercises he could get away with considering his casted left arm when he heard the door open again behind him. Turning around, he felt his mood lifting immediately as his eyes fell on his three partners in crime, otherwise known as his team.

"Hey, guys!"

Instantly their nervousness faded away visibly and they broke into smiles in return. Clearly they had been uncertain as to what reaction they would receive. And, of course, there was always the lingering guilt from their last mission together.

"What? Did you guys think I was going to go schitzo on you?" Lorne chuckled.

"No, sir," Shingleton spoke up, only half-serious. "Just figured you'd probably have a few choice words for us."

Lorne chuckled again as he crossed his arms. "Well, obviously you got Sheppard's team out. What else is there to say besides 'good job'? You didn't seriously come to see me after my return from the dead just to ask for a pat on the back, did you?"

"No, sir," they chimed.

Making a face, Lorne groaned and shook his head. "You guys are making this way too awkward. Drop the formality. I'm not even a Colonel anymore."

Three grins passed between them before they all finally relaxed a bit. Waving toward a convenient spot on the floor, Lorne motioned them to all sit and relax. He just hoped any other visits he got today would be less awkward, initially, though he doubted it. By now all of Atlantis knew of his return from the dead, and his mental condition.

Following his team had been just about everyone he'd ever worked with. Far from feeling bored or cooped up, Lorne found himself almost wishing for a break from the steady stream of visitors. But, considering what they suffered in his absence, he knew they needed to see him for themselves to believe he really was back from the dead. Much as Carson had gone through in the early days, people needed to see and take time to process what had happened. For all the strange technology and other things they worked with, including alternate universes, it wasn't everyday people just came back from the dead. Aside from Doctor Daniel Jackson who seemed to have made a hobby of it, it was still pretty uncommon.

By dinner time he found himself blessedly alone with his own thoughts. It was good to see so many familiar faces, but it was hard, too. It was always in the forefront of his thoughts that this may very well be the last time he saw any of them. He wasn't sure exactly when they were sending him back to Earth, but he knew it wouldn't be much longer. It was enough that Mister Woolsey had given him and the rest of Atlantis those few days. Lorne was grateful, though a part of him was ready to move on and get it over with. Though he'd never admit it to all the happy faces he'd seen today, it hurt enough he just wanted to either be left alone or shipped out now.

Putting aside his half-eaten tray, Lorne stood and stretched again. Those abused muscles finally stopped protesting in such a painful way, making him sigh with relief. Glancing around the room he contemplated another jog before bed time. And, tonight, he knew they were going to make him sleep since Lindells wanted to experiment with what she could find out from Yann. Before he had a chance to further contemplate this, the door to the isolation room opened yet again. Setting aside those thoughts, he turned to find Sheppard waving a familiar object in his general direction.

"I brought you a present. And if you're well-behaved, I might even bring you crayons."

"Hey, don't underestimate the value of crayons," he commented, flipping through the pages of the sketch book. "This was the last one I was working on before…that mission."

"Your sister gave it to me at the funeral. Seriously, video games?"

Lorne chuckled, flipping through the pages of various areas of the city he'd sketched in the hopes of painting later. "I can't believe this made it out past SGC security. Besides, I had to come up with some kind of cover in case one of my doodles ever got around. Video games was as good as anything."

"You better just hope she never sees you actually playing a video game. She'll see right through that in a second," Sheppard shot back, rocking on his heels in amusement.

"You're right, I'll just tell her I design them as a hobby," Lorne shot back, still feeling the sting of that long ago and humiliating defeat. "Thanks for this. Got any pens or pencils?"

Pulling out a fist full of both, Sheppard held them out of reach of the shorter man, earning an irritated look. "What about that hundred I supposedly owe you?"

Evan blinked in surprise and very nearly laughed. "Is that how this works? Give me a sketch book and then scam me for a hundred bucks over a handful of pens?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it scamming. But, if that's how you feel…" John said, putting the collection of writing utensils back in his pocket.

"You are so juvenile," he said, still smiling. "That's okay, I'll wait until I get back to Earth and just send your brother a letter about your unpaid debts."

With a grimace he handed over the pens and pencils. "That's a low blow."

"No more so than your attempt at extortion."

"It's not extortion. It's negotiation."

Both of them laughed at that one before Evan thanked him sincerely. If anything was going to get his mind off his present circumstances, even for a little while, this would be it. John just waved it off and headed back out of the isolation room. Happily occupied with his second-favorite hobby, Lorne took a seat in a convenient corner and contemplated his next sketch.

~o~o~o~

For a few hours Lorne sketched away everything he could remember of Atlantis. Just for a little while he was allowed to forget where he was and why. But, all too soon, reality came crashing back in on him as a doctor and a couple of nurses came in to tie him down for the night. He knew Lindells would be watching tonight, hoping to talk to Yann; and the thought made him sick. Closing up his sketchbook, he almost considered going without sleep tonight, but quickly rejected the idea. He knew that would come off as uncooperative at the very least. Yet, he couldn't deny that he was terrified of sleep. He had no desire to give that…thing…in his head control for any amount of time.

With a sigh, he set down the sketchbook and hopped up onto the gurney. Within minutes he was again alone with his thoughts, and not even something to keep his hands occupied. Physically he was exhausted, but his mind raced. The last thing he remembered as he finally drifted off to sleep, sometime later, was the sickening smile and wicked laugh of the Wraith queen.

~o~o~o~

Colonel Lorne wasn't sure anymore if it had been days or weeks. Being underground, there was no visible way to tell. And, since the Wraith queen was constantly healing him, he felt no thirst or hunger, either. But that wasn't even the worst of what had messed with his sense of time. Those seemingly brief respites when he was left naked and alone in his cell to sleep away the hours were interspersed with eternities spent in her presence. Since the first days when she had tried to covert him by feeding and then restoring him, and even tried using the euphoria of the restoration to get him to answer, it had become a game to her.

She was no longer frustrated by Lorne giving the same response over and over and over again. Now it was a game to see how many times he could say it before his screams caused him to become a mindless bundle of misery screaming wordlessly. Instead of using her telepathic ability to try to coerce him, she began to probe him for other things. It had taken her a matter of seconds to learn of his fear of burning alive. In one of his weaker moments she'd managed to bring out images of the day his father had died in a house fire; stumbling out of the house engulfed in flames only to die on the front lawn as firefighters arrived.

And so a new game began. She would ask. He would respond. If it wasn't the answer she wanted, he burned. She had some sort of device that, without flame, would set anything it touched afire. She usually started with his extremities. Her particular favorite was his feet. He seemed to scream so much more quickly when she started there. But then it would move inward. Typically by the time she'd gone through his legs and arms, he was too far gone to even really respond anymore. So she would heal him and send him back to his cell until he showed signs of cognizance again.

In the early days he comforted himself with memories of all the people he had known. Lorne hoped his sister didn't grieve for him too long. He hoped the strain on his mother wasn't enough to push her into another heart attack. He remembered all the days he'd spent playing with his nephews and how tiny and fragile they had seemed the first time he got to hold them. That one usually left him sobbing. But it was those memories in particular that kept him going.

He'd tried to kill himself in every way he could imagine. Each and every time the queen would heal him and laugh in sheer enjoyment. She often encouraged him to keep trying to kill himself, in the hopes he would give her something new and creative to play with.

After fire she had found acid to be just as fun, and a lot more messy. She enjoyed watching his flesh bubble and melt away, often leaving exposed bone she would tap and play with just to increase his horror. Though this brought on screams more quickly, it also left him nearly insensate with horror that much faster, as well. Watching his flesh slough off his arm and splatter on the floor at his feet was more than his mind could handle.

Through it all, he hung on to that one response. Over and over and over. He never allowed his mouth to open unless he was sure it was those words that would come out. In his mind he was begging for mercy, for death, for an end to the pain. But verbally all that came out was that same litany he'd started with.

As the memories of his former life on Atlantis faded further and further from memory as the days rolled into what he was certain were weeks, he held on to that one thing. It was all he had of himself, of his life. He prayed it would be the last words he ever spoke.

Evan Lorne. Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force. Five seven three nine eight two one eight. May sixth nineteen seventy. Evan Lorne. Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force. Five seven three nine eight two one eight. May sixth nineteen seventy.