Authors Note:

Sorry it's been so long since I posted anything - I've lost my writing mojo lately, despite having a plan to finish this story. I finally managed to get this chapter done, and I think one more chapter will finish it all. I should probably put a fluff/tissue alert on this chapter too ... just in case. If you don't enjoy an emotional Lorne you probably won't like this.

Chapter 5: Worth fighting for

"Major?"

Evan looked up from his computer to see the city's leader standing in his office doorway. Brow arched he stood, trying to remember if Doctor Weir had ever come down to see him like this, but coming up blank. "Ma'am," he said, instinctively shifting to stand up.

"Please, don't get up," Elizabeth said, moving into the room.

She seemed to hesitate and he felt it – that first fission of anxiety that something had gone horribly wrong. He'd been back from leave for over a month – and gone through an uncomfortable week of being the most interesting thing in the city after news of his change of marital status had spread through Atlantis. Not that he'd needed to make a general announcement – telling his team and making sure they knew it wasn't a secret had more than done the job. Interest had been high at first and he'd gotten a few questions from people about his new wife – wife … there hadn't been enough time back on Earth for him to really enjoy the unique thrill that word inspired inside. Lucky for him another crisis had taken over the city when Doctor Weir decided bringing two abandoned life pods into the city was a good idea. He'd become old news after she and Colonel Sheppard were taken over by long dead entities who'd shared what he'd heard was a pretty heated kiss before beginning an hours long pursuit throughout the city, intent on killing each other. Thankfully for all of them those entities hadn't been able to hold on to Weir and Sheppard long enough to succeed and things had returned to normal … the Atlantis version of it anyway.

"Is everything okay Ma'am?" he asked carefully.

"The Daedalus made contact as soon as it was within range Major," Doctor Weir began. "There was an urgent message for you … a personal message."

The chill descended and all he could do was wait for what was coming next – part of him begging her not to say it.

"I'm sorry Major," Elizabeth leaned forward, projecting compassion. "Your wife was involved in a car accident two days ago – she's in intensive care at Colorado Hospital." She took a breath and finished. "You've been given clearance to use the gate to return to Earth immediately."

Clearance for leave and an immediate return? Using the Daedalus to get the message to him when the weekly dial in was only a couple of days away? That screamed disastrously serious – they wouldn't put such a rush on things unless someone back home was convinced Amy wasn't going to make it.

He was on his feet without conscious thought. "Ma'am?"

"Go," Elizabeth urged.

And he was up and running, not bothering to stop at his quarters for anything. Chuck must have been informed because he began dialling the gate before Lorne could even ask, the wormhole punching into the room moments later. Evan hurried through the gate without a backward glance, all of his focus on where he was going, not what he was leaving behind.

"Major," General Landry greeted him formally as soon as his feet hit the ramp. "I have transport ready for you."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne managed, glad for everything that was left unspoken. They both knew why Evan was there – he didn't need anything but the fastest track to Amy's side, and he was grateful that Landry understood that.

The ride to the hospital was a blur because he was consumed with his thoughts, waging an internal war between fearing the worst and trying to convince himself that everything would be okay. That and a part of him just wanting to stop time so that he wouldn't have to find out just how bad the situation really was. The 'what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him' … or in this case kill him. No, losing Amy just wasn't an option he was willing to spend even a moment thinking about - he'd crushed those thoughts from existence by the time they arrived.

Striding up to reception desk at the ICU Evan quickly gave his name and asked to see Amy.

"Your wife is in room three Major," the nurse on duty told him gently, "but Doctor Galliford would like to speak to you before you go in and see her. If you have a seat I'll let the Doctor know you've arrived."

"Sure, of course," Evan agreed, moving to sit down. His nerves were jumping around and it was a struggle to hold on to his calm facade, his face turning stony as he held his emotions in check.

"Major, I'm Doctor Lillian Galliford," the too young looking woman who approached him said. "May I?" she gestured to the seat beside him.

Evan nodded, not able to find his voice in the face of this woman's serious demeanour. And then he just listened as the bare facts were laid out for him. Amy's car had been hit head-on when another driver swerved into her lane. She had broken bones, organ damage, blood loss. All of those things, while serious, were fixable – and had been through the two surgeries Amy had been through since they'd brought her to Emergency. She'd escaped any major head trauma so brain damage wasn't a concern either. In fact, all things considered, Amy should have been well on her way to recovering. Only she wasn't. She hadn't regained consciousness and they didn't know why. All they knew was that her vitals were unstable and weakening – and that she was slipping away.

"We've conducted a number of tests to determine if there's additional damage we didn't find during surgery," Doctor Galliford explained, "but so far we just haven't been able to find a cause for your wife's current condition. We'll continue to investigate every option but if your wife's rate of deterioration continues and we can't find a way to address it, the prognosis isn't encouraging."

Evan swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the floor.

"You can see her now," Doctor Galliford said. "Talk to her, let her know you're here. The human spirit is an amazing thing Major … this might just be what she needs to find her way back to us."

Nodding, Evan got to his feet. His legs felt like jelly and walking to follow a nurse to Amy's room felt strange – like he was disconnected from himself.

"She'd hooked up to a number of machines," the nurse warned. "Try to ignore the surroundings and just focus on your wife."

Hardly paying attention, Evan looked through the glass doors as they opened, his eyes going straight to the bed.

Oh god! Amy seemed so small – frail – with an air surrounding her that screamed to him that she was already halfway gone. Her skin was so pale he could see the veins under the surface ... the bruises the crash had left on her stood out starkly in contrast. There were bandages there too - hiding more evidence of what she'd been through. His eyes misted and he had to stop just inside the door, taking a few calming breaths before he felt able to keep going.

Dropping to the chair at her side, he took her hand so carefully, afraid that somehow he'd do her damage. "Amy," he whispered, his voice coming out raspy and thick with emotion. That kernel of hope he'd had that she'd sense he was there and wake up immediately was dashed when she gave no signs that she'd heard him.

"Amy," he said again, this time a kind of protest for the situation. Struggling to find any words, he dropped his head to their joined hands and just breathed, trying to get a handle on himself.

Things only got worse from there – Evan stood by as they ran more tests that revealed nothing. Amy was slipping away and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it except sit there and watch it happen. The frustration and the pain were excruciating and he felt like he was going crazy – he had energy to burn and nothing to direct it at. When the nurses asked him to take a break so they could change Amy's bed sheets, he strode away from the ICU, rapid steps eating up the corridor but no destination in mind. Turning corners and pushing through doors he eventually ended up at the most unlikely of places.

The hospital chapel.

It was deserted and he sank to a seat near the front, folding his arms over the seats in front and dropping his forehead to rest on his hands. What was he going to do? He didn't want to contemplate the what if of Amy not making it, but the horror of that conclusion seemed to be rushing forward to shatter his life, and he didn't know how to stop it. The world has stopped making sense – why Amy? And what good were all his skills and all the things he'd seen if he couldn't use any of it to help her?

Sinking into his despairing thoughts it took Evan a few moments to realise he was no longer alone, and that only because music started to waft from the back of the chapel towards him. Clearly the other person had no idea someone had beaten them to this place of solitude.

"Love is not a place, to come and go as we please.

It's a house we enter in, and then commit to never leave.

So lock the door behind you, throw away the key.

We'll work it out together, let it bring us to our knees.

Love is a shelter in a raging storm.

Love is peace in the middle of a war.

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door.

No, love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for."

Evan was trembling but he didn't realise it. How could he when the words from a stranger's song were cutting into his heart? He and Amy weren't a choice – they'd locked the door on any other kind of life and ground the key into dust. And if anyone had ever needed a shelter from the harshness of life, to give him a place inside to find peace when what he saw got a little too rough, it was Evan Lorne. Amy gave him that and so much more. She was worth fighting for – he just didn't know how!

"To some love is a word, that they can fall into,

but when they're falling out, keeping their word is hard to do.

Love is a shelter in a raging storm.

Love is peace in the middle of a war.

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door.

No, love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for.

Love will come to save us,

if we'll only call.

He will ask nothing from us,

but demand we give our all."

Amy didn't need love to save her – she needed him. And as he listened, the first inkling of an idea because to surface in Evan's mind. In fact, now that he'd had the idea he wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it in the first place. What he wanted was a big ask, and yet how could he not make use of every available resource? As he got up and made his way down the rows towards the doors the final strains of the song seemed to draw him forward.

"I will fight for you!

Would you fight for me?

It's worth fighting for."

"Hey, I'm sorry man, I didn't see you there," a young man apologised, his attire and the cloth he had in hand announcing him to be one of the janitorial staff.

"It's fine," Evan returned.

"I can turn the music off," the man offered.

"No, that's okay," Lorne forced a half smile. "I have somewhere I need to be anyway," he added, pushing the doors open.

An hour later, after a swift return to the ICU where he'd urged Amy to hang on until he got back, promising that he'd fix everything, Lorne pulled into the car park at the SGC. Time to do what never came naturally – lay his heart out in plain view.

"Ma'am," Evan hovered in the doorway of Colonel Carter's lab, waiting for her acknowledgement.

"Major," Sam smiled, gesturing him forward. Her expression changing to sympathetic, she continued. "I was sorry to hear about your wife's accident. How is she doing?"

"In all honesty, not very well," Evan returned starkly. "That's why I'm here actually." He looked at the Colonel, his expression unguarded. And then he took a determined breath, pursed his lips, and jumped in boots first. "Amy," he said it softly. "Her name is Amy. She's been something to me since we were kids. I know this is going to sound desperate Ma'am but she is going to die unless I can find a way to help her. And I have ... you."

"Me?" Carter reared back a little, pinning him with a puzzled frown. "Don't get me wrong Major, I'd like to help. I just don't see how I can."

"The Goa'uld healing device Ma'am," Evan explained earnestly. "The problem is that the doctors don't know what's wrong with Amy. She'd slipping away and they can't find a reason why ... but you could."

"Major," Sam winced, reluctance crossing her face before resolve took over. "You're talking about potentially revealing national secrets to a civilian without any kind of security clearance. You know I can't condone that."

"My wife is dying," Evan ground out harshly. "What good is any of what we're doing out there if we can't use it to save someone?"

"I'm sorry Evan," Sam got up, putting a hand on his arm and ignoring the way he flinched.

"Please ...," he begged. He met Sam's eyes, his burning with tears unshed. "She's all I have ... I'm not sure I can do any of this without her."

"I'm so sorry," Sam reiterated, her own eyes dark with regret. "I wish there was a way to make what you want possible ..."

Maybe she didn't mean it, but with sudden clarity Evan realised there was a way ... one that would risk his entire career and everything he'd worked so hard for two decades to achieve. But love was worth fighting for ... and in this case it demanded that he give up everything to keep it alive.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time, Colonel," Evan told Sam, straightening and stepping back, suddenly brisk.

"Major," Sam protested, but he shook his head.

"Permission to return to the ICU Ma'am," he barely waited for her troubled nod before he spun and strode from the room.

It was all business from that moment on. He knew what he had to do and he became the epitome of 'Major Lorne' as he planned out a course of action and then didn't hesitate to implement it. Supplies – the right kind – would be crucial. Evan was well known at the SGC and no one thought anything of it when he requisitioned a few items. There was one thing he needed that he couldn't requisition – but he's found over the years that if you acted like you were meant to be doing what you were doing, nobody questioned you. Especially if they were military and you outranked them. An hour after leaving Colonel Carter's lab Lorne had everything he needed for phase one of his plan. Time to move into phase two.

The first step was a return to the hospital – he left it until it was dark and visiting hours over before he made his way back to the ICU. "How's she doing?" he asked the duty nurse, his eyes on where Amy lay so still and pale.

"There's been no improvement," she replied. "You should stay close now Major Lorne ...," she advised. There was no getting away from the prognosis in that. They wanted him nearby because they were expecting Amy to lose the fight – probably before the night was out.

"I see," he said blankly. The enormity of the situation and what he had to do froze his feet to the floor and it took real effort to shake it off. "And there's no hope?" he asked faintly.

"I'm sorry, but Doctor Galliford said she's done everything medically possible," the nurse advised. "It's in your wife's hands now."

"Does she need all that stuff around her?" Evan gestured to the machines and wires connecting Amy to the ICU equipment.

"I ...," the nurse frowned. "I suppose not," she allowed. "Let me call the Doctor for you."

"Thank you," Evan got out, moving to stand at the door of Amy's room.

The nurse joined him a few moments later, nodding when he looked at her quizzically. "Just give me a few moments Major and then you can come and sit with your wife.

Evan felt the sympathy directed at him and wanted to protest that he didn't need it - his wife was going to be fine! Instead he stood by while Amy was disconnected from every monitor, each machine switched off until the room was silent.

"Press the call button when ... if you need anything," the nurse told him before leaving him alone with Amy.

Evan stood for a moment, his mind full of everything that had to come next. And then he shifted into action.

"If you were awake you'd tell me what I'm about to do is crazy," Evan spoke in a low tone as he moved to the storage units along one wall, opening doors and looking inside. "And you'd be right, so if you want to stop me, now would be the time to wake up and show these doctors how wrong they are."

The silence was oppressive – straightening, a blanket now in hand, Evan nodded. "I didn't think so," he kept talking, whether to break through to Amy or to keep himself on track, he wasn't sure. "So we're going for a little ride." He gently manoeuvred an arm under and around Amy, lifting her and wrapping the blanket around her. And then Evan carefully lifted his wife from the bed and gathered her close, waiting a moment as though expecting some kind of reaction. When none came, he smiled. "This is where it gets a little tricky," he told her, moving for the door. At the best of times Amy was slight – after three days in hospital she felt lighter, her weight easily born with the strength of one arm. Evan slowly pushed the door handle down and then carefully opened the door a sliver. Another pause before he pushed it all the way open and silently walked out into the corridor. Amy's room was halfway down the row of ICU rooms and thankfully not visible from the desk. Walking briskly but not hurrying Evan shifted Amy's body a little as he headed for the back stairs.

In the end it was too easy to walk out with Amy in his arms, wrapped in a hospital blanket. Settling her in the front seat of his car, clipping the seat belt into place he then hurried around to the driver's side. And then he set course for phase three of his plan. Glancing at Amy every few metres to reassure himself that she was still with him, Evan drove through the silent streets of Colorado Springs, and on to Cheyenne Mountain. Instead of going to the main check point he pulled off the road, killing the engine.

This was where it all turned deadly serious. Up until then he'd done nothing illegal – he hadn't signed Amy out of the hospital but she was his wife and at the end of the day the final say on medical decisions was his. They weren't going to throw him in jail for taking her with him. But as soon as he broke the seal on the maintenance shaft that was through the trees before them, that would change. They could and probably would lock him in the nearest brig where he'd stay until they court marshalled his ass out of the air force, after a not so quick stopover at Leavenworth.

Not to mention how careful he'd have to be getting a still seriously injured Amy down to Level 19 where Colonel Carter's lab was situated. He's briefly considered calling in a favour with one of the tech guys up on the Apollo but decided against it. This was his crime and his alone, and if he had to go down for it he was determined to do it alone. Eyes directed out the windscreen, Lorne didn't really see the view in front of him. Instead he was focussed internally, on the life he'd have if he didn't do this for Amy.

There was no choice.

Resolutely he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, carefully lifting his wife back into his arms. The woods were quiet as he walked, his feet rustling the underbrush. At the maintenance hatch he carefully lowered Amy to the ground, supporting her weight against him as he used the Ancient hand device he'd taken from the research lab (thank God they'd still been testing it's capabilities at teh SGC) to overload the locking mechanism, something he wouldn't have been able to do when locks were still hardware instead of digital. When the security crew ran the maintenance program they'd get an error for this hatch but hopefully by the time they did that whatever was going to happen with Lorne would be well and truly done.

Quickly rigging abseiling ropes around himself he picked Amy up, pulling her into him and securing the ropes around her too, hoping like hell that he wasn't doing more damage with the necessity of making sure he could carry her and hold on to the ladder at the same time. "We're almost there," he told her as he worked. "Hold on Love. Just hold on for me for a little bit longer, okay?"

Standing, he moved with Amy, testing that there was sufficient support for her and enough manoeuvrability for him. Adjusting Amy so that her head rested on his shoulder and using gravity to help his body carry her weight, he took a deep breath. What he was going to do wouldn't be any less crazy by delaying - time to put it all on the line.

Looking back on it later Evan wasn't sure how he managed to carry an unconscious and seriously injured woman down the ladder of a narrow maintenance shaft – just that untold minutes later, the muscles in his arms trembling with the effort and Amy too still and pale, he arrived on the level he needed. Stripping away the supporting ropes he carried Amy onwards, determinedly under his own steam.

His trip to the hospital – the drive and the time he's spent preparing and then getting down to level 19 – had eaten up the evening hours and the SGC was on night watch. Minimal staffing meant corridors that were deserted – no one saw him open the maintenance door to get inside, and no one saw him carrying his wife down the hall. With little fuss Evan arrived at Colonel Carter's lab – a layer of tension he'd been holding inside relaxed when he saw the light coming from under the door. He'd checked the duty schedule for off world missions, sussed out what would have Samantha Carter glued to her lab – he'd expected her to be there and yet it was still a relief to be proven right.

"Okay, this is it," he told Amy, facing that closed door.

He didn't knock. Instead he twisted the handle and then nudged the door open, striding inside and then elbowing the door closed again behind him. Sam was so engrossed in her work that it took a moment for her 'non scientist' senses to pick up that she was no longer alone.

"Major?" her tone was incredulous as she looked up and registered what her eyes were seeing. Major Evan Lorne with an unconscious woman in his arms.

"Colonel," he closed the distance between them, stopping a few paces away – close enough that Sam would be able to see how pale Amy was – closee enough to see the hope and the desperation in his eyes. "Earlier, when you said you wished there was a way you could help my wife ... did you mean it?"

"Evan," Sam sighed, joining all the dots with no explanation required.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for me personally Ma'am," Evan rushed into speech. "I can face the consequences – I don't care what they are. What I couldn't face is letting Amy die when there was something I could do to save her." The Colonel looked at him – assessed him – and Evan met her gaze head on, nothing but certainty and resolve in his. "Please," he pleaded unashamedly.

"You know I can't condone this course of action," Sam shook her head.

"Not willingly," Evan agreed, shifting a little to reveal the unmistakable shape of an M-16 strapped to his thigh. "I came prepared Colonel – please don't make me cross the line that far."

Silence fell – Lorne wished he knew what Sam was thinking. He wished Amy would wake up and tell him what to do next. What if Colonel Carter didn't capitulate? Would he really pull a weapon on a superior officer he both admired and respected? How far was he willing to go?

Glancing down at the woman in his arms, Evan raised a hand, smoothing back a strand of her blonde hair. Sunshine ... pure soul – stark because her sunny smile, the one that radiated happiness and demanded you smile back, wasn't there. Song lyrics shot through his head, cutting him again.

"Love will come to save us,

if we'll only call.

He will ask nothing from us,

but demand we give our all."

Looking up again, he froze. Sam was watching him – observing him, her expression softening.

"Okay, I'll try," she said simply. "But we do this in the infirmary, with a doctor in attendance."

Nodding, Evan couldn't bring himself to say anything. Swallowing hard he shifted to let the Colonel precede him from the room, following her silently through the corridors, into the lift, until they stepped out on Level 21. They made one stop along the way – to pick up the healing device from secure lock-up.

"Colonel," Doctor Lam was on duty – another stroke of luck for Amy. It didn't take Caroline even a second to assess the situation. "Put her here Major Lorne," she directed Evan to the nearest bed. "What happened?"

"Car accident," Evan replied, staying close to Amy's side. "A few days ago ... the doctors ... they can't find what's wrong with her."

"I'm going to try the Goa'uld healing device," Carter announced, holding up the alien object.

She and Doctor Lam exchanged glances and Caroline nodded, her eyes narrowed as she deduced the rest of the story. "Let me get some monitoring equipment hooked up first," she said firmly. Moving quickly and efficiently Lam connected Amy to now familiar machines, taking some readings as she worked. "What's your wife's name Major?" she asked almost casually.

"Amy," Evan got out, watching everything as he tried to balance the hope surging inside against what he knew of the success and failure of past attempts to use the healing device.

"How long have you been married?" Lam continued.

Maybe it was standard practice to distract the spouse while you worked, probably because it worked. Evan's thoughts were instantly on that day only a handful of weeks before. "Not long enough," he murmured, unaware of the way Sam and Caroline both smiled. To him it wasn't romantic – it was just fact. A lifetime with Amy wouldn't be long enough.

Doctor Lam finished setting everything up and switched on the machines. The sound of Amy's heartbeat wasn't as strong or as rhythmic as it should be, but it was there – hearing it weakened Evan's legs to the point he had to lean against the bed to steady himself.

"She's weak," Caroline observed to Lorne. "Even if Colonel Carter is able to repair the underlying damage we'll still need to treat her for blood loss at the very least."

"But she'll have a chance," Evan commented, nodding. "That's more than she had this morning."

"Yes," Caroline agreed. Turning to Sam she nodded. "When you're ready Colonel."

Sam stepped forward, the device already on her right hand. She closed her eyes and seemed to brace herself, tensing, focussed internally. The gem at the heart of the device lit up, glowing orange. Sam ran it slowly over Amy's body from head to toe and then back again, her brow creased in concentration.

It took longer than Evan was expecting, and all the while he couldn't tell if it was working. The wait was maddening - no matter how hard he stared, no matter how much he strained to discern any kind of progress, he just couldn't. Amy was still pale, still silent, unmoving.

And then her heartrate kicked up, even as Sam staggered back, her eyes open, the device now dead in her hand.

Doctor Lam shifted forward to assess Amy but Evan's eyes were still on Sam, his expression hopefully quizzical.

"I did what I could," Sam said weakly.

She looked exhausted and Lorne knew that if sheer will and determination counted for anything then Amy had received the best that the Colonel could offer. "Thank you," his voice shook too much but she didn't comment. Instead she put a bracing hand on his shoulder, turning to Caroline. "Well?" she asked hopefully.

"Her vital signs are stabilising," Caroline reported. "I'll get a blood transfusion going – keep her under close observation for the next few hours – but at this stage it looks promising."

"She's going to be okay?" Evan needed to confirm that he'd understood correctly.

"With rest and plenty of recovery time, yes, she'll be okay," Caroline said with a smile.

"Oh God," Lorne staggered back until he hit the bed next to Amy's, putting a hand to his eyes as he struggled to gather himself together. Amy was going to be fine ... she was going to be fine. "Just give me – " he held up a hand, silently begging for a minute to compose himself.

When he looked up both women were watching him with matching expressions – concern mixed with that look women got when they thought something was fluffy and romantic. He shifted uncomfortably, directing his eyes to his wife. It was probably his imagination but she looked better already – less pale, more connected to his world instead of whatever came next. "Thank you Lord," he thought reverently. He'd given it his all because saving Amy was worth everything ... including whatever happened next.

"Ma'am," he turned to Colonel Carter, his posture straightening and his expression going formal. "I'm ready to –"

"stay with your wife," Sam finished for him. "I don't think you're a flight risk Evan. We'll talk about the rest of it in the morning."

Evan hesitated for a moment – part of him wanted the consequences out there in the open but as he looked back to Amy he knew the chance to stay with her for a bit longer was a gift he couldn't pass up.

"I'm glad Amy's okay," Sam added, putting a hand to his shoulder as she moved to leave the infirmary.

"Ma'am," Evan called out just before she got to the doors. Sam turned back, her brows raised. "Thank you," Evan said feelingly. "I can't begin to tell you what this means to me."

"You don't have to," Sam replied. "I can see for myself." She smiled as she added "she's a lucky woman," before she turned and left the infirmary.

Evan felt the heat of embarrassment shift over his face – now that the heat of the crisis had passed he was suddenly aware of how much he'd revealed of his heart – to Colonel Carter and Doctor Lam - but he couldn't let it matter. Turning back to Amy's bed he took a seat beside her, aware of the activity that went on around them to ensure Amy had everything she needed to fully recover, but not paying it any real attention. There were still hours of darkness to get through and he had no intention of spending any of them doing anything other that watching as Amy gradually gave him more and more signs that she was getting better. Taking her hand he shifted to get comfortable, resting his head on the bed beside their joined hands.

"Evan?"

It was only a whisper but his entire focus was on Amy – instantly he was up and moving closer, a hand to her brow as he sought to reassure her. "I'm here," he said gently, smiling as she blinked open those blue eyes he'd feared he'd never see again.

"Here?" Amy frowned, her eyes locked to his.

"Hospital," he told her. "You were in an accident a few days ago but you're gonna be fine now."

"Oh," Amy grimaced as she registered more, her eyes shifting to look around her. "Where are we?" she asked.

Evan glanced around too, realised the SGC infirmary didn't look like any hospital Amy would have ever seen. "Long story," he told her uncomfortably, feeling all at once like a naughty child about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

She shouldn't have been able to narrow her eyes at him, or look suspicious, but she pulled it off only minutes after regaining consciousness. "What did you do?" she asked firmly.

"What I had to," he returned, suddenly grim. She looked worried and he shook his head, going for a reassuring smile. "Listen, don't worry about me. There'll be plenty of time to talk about this later. For now you concentrate on getting better, because that's all that matters to me. Okay?"

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "Okay," she murmured, her eyes going back to unfocussed. "I'm tired," she tightened her hand on his even as she yawned.

"Then sleep," Evan returned. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She smiled, her eyes closing and her breath shifting back to the rhythms of sleep. Evan settled back to his protective vigil, praying that he'd be able to fulfil that promise.

Authors Note 2:

The song is 'Love is not a fight' by Warren Barfield (I have it under my favourites on youtube if you want to listen). I know that there were a couple of stories featuring bedside vigil's of a sort a while back and that might be part of why I stalled on this, hesitating adding another similar scenario to what's already out there. But this is what I planned and aspects of it are crucial for my final chapter so I decided to stick with it. And yes, I am aware that there are elements of the chapter that are completely implausible - but I don't care! *grins* Oh, and I'm also aware that I could have interpreted the song I chose in a completely different way - but taking the most literal meaning fit what I was trying to do with the chapter.

Exploring a different kind of Lorne has been interesting - I hope you agree ...