Lorne's quarters were as neat as ever. She was surprised at the lack of paint splatters or other signs of his hobby then remembered he never had paint stains on his hands or nails either. She wondered if his mother had also been as neat when teaching him.

"If you don't like it, I won't mind –" He started to say then cut himself off with a shrug and pulled the cloth off it.

Max froze. The painting…it was her. But a version she almost didn't recognize. She was not vain and even before her death had not been interested in or good at fashion or makeup. She approached her appearance with practicality in mind only. But this…perspective, it was so different it literally stopped her breath.

The image was one of Atlantis's balconies. She was wearing uniform pants and a black t-shirt. She was sitting on the edge of the balcony as she had so often while Lorne painted or she talked with Methos or a team mate. She was alone in the painting but somehow it felt like there were people out of frame.

She was sitting with one leg hanging off the balcony, the other with her chin and arms resting on her bent knee. Her hair, reddish brown and lightened by sunlight that spilled onto the space around her was tousled and slightly longer than she preferred to keep it.

Napping in the sun she thought with a small smile.

Her body language was relaxed and sleepy. He expression soft and happy like she had just finished laughing with a…a friend.

She raised a hand without thinking, fingertips, still pruned from the long shower, hovering above the dry paint.

"Evan." She breathed softly. He had been studying her reaction avoiding her eyes, tense as a bow string. When she breathed his name, he relaxed and grinned.

"You like it?"

"I…I love it but I …how did you do this." She asked, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn't identify. She didn't have enough words, the right words to translate her feelings and questions.

This was not the butcher of innocents, not a lifer doing hard time, not the super being capable of crisping a wraith on contact, not the immortal murderer Rodney feared even now, this was…was just …a person.

"It's just you Max, no more, no more less." He said softly.

She looked at him, eyes gleaming and shook her head slowly.

"No, it's not …not just anything. Thank you." She breathed pulling her gaze from the canvas to him.

"Hey, it's okay –" he said as silent tears started to streak her cheeks. "-maybe this was a bad idea right now, you've been through a lot today –"

Silently, she shook her head and smiled, he handed her a cloth for her tears, it was clean but clearly intend to be used with his paints. She took a few long moments to collect her composure before clearing her throat.

"Your mother would be proud." She said quietly and it was his turn to blush gently.

He had other paintings of expedition members. Each managed to capture an aspect of the subject that was easy to overlook and added depth and humanity.

John, looking weary but attentive as he read a pad with one arm in a sling and Rodney at his elbow pointing at the pad and full of excitement about whatever was on it.

Teyla, stern and fierce as she held a fighting stance with her Bantos sticks while an Athosian child sat nearby with a toy and a figure wearing an expedition uniform without a jacket squared off with Teyla. The figure could be anyone, with a dark t-shirt and the gray pants everyone was issued it was impossible to be specific.

Ronon's showed him giving a child a piggyback ride with his signature sidearm secured in a holster at his hip.

There were more each a delicate rendering of an entire person in oil. Even one of Kavanaugh managed to cast him in a different light. He was standing over a worktable, a perfect picture of concentration and duty.

"You need to display these." She said softly as each new painting made her revise her opinion on the subject, think harder about her assumptions and observations.

"Oh, I don't know – "

"I do, I get that, well some people may be upset if they didn't know you were making these but my gods, they're incredible. I mean, they're better than words."

Lorne looked thoughtful and surprised. "Better than words?" He asked. She looked up from the painting she had been examining and smiled at him.

"You've read my dossier, now think about what's in that and what's in your painting." He frowned slightly then glanced up at her, a small smile replacing the frown.

"Please, don't take my word for it, show them to Carter." She insisted.

"Ah I don't know Max – "

She shook her head, "I'm not going to force you or anything. But these are incredible. Really. Thank you." She said and spontaneously hugged him. Surprised it took him a moment to react, he returned the hug. She laughed and pulled away gently.

"I needed this, today especially, thank you."