Author's Note: Contains spoilers for "Ghost In The Machine."
oOo
Kaela carefully loaded the teapot onto the tray and carried everything toward the rear of the house. She'd awakened early to the sound of the door being closed. It hadn't been loud, but her sensitive hearing had picked up every step Evan had taken across the hardwood floors of their home. Her parents still slept, but she couldn't get their house guest out of her mind.
It wasn't the first time her father had brought a patient home. Most of the time, they were indigent folks who needed to get their feet under them. Not amnesiacs attractive enough to take her breath away with the first glance.
Kaela shook her head. She wasn't a young girl anymore. At nearly twenty-three summers, she approached the age when she would be seen as a spinster. Girls on Orenth married around sixteen or seventeen summers, and Kaela had entertained hopes that she'd have at least two children by now. Instead, she remained unmarried in her father's home.
But Evan might change that. Yesterday, he'd given her a penetrating glance, and her heart thudded into her throat at the sight of his blue eyes. She'd experienced the sensation before, but she'd always been broken-hearted to learn that the man had chosen someone else. Now, with Evan not having his memory, she might stand a chance.
Of course, he might already be married. Without his memories, how could he tell them whether a woman waited for him to return? He'd seemed curious yesterday, and understandably lost. But nothing in his demeanor indicated that he had a wife. Instead, he'd sat next to her at both lunch and dinner, peppering her father with questions about the government and the city of Talgrom, things not normally discussed over the evening meal but pardonable given his circumstances. He had a quick mind and a witty sense of humor, and his eyes sparkled when he smiled. Kaela had worked her best not to stare at him, but it was difficult. Still, she managed to finish the meal with her dignity intact.
Evan sat on the back porch, his dark hair spiking while his blue eyes stared at images he'd drawn in the journal her father had provided. Kaela began to clear her throat, thinking to warn him of her presence, when he closed the journal and turned to her. His smile was distant, but the warmth in his blue eyes made up for it.
"I made some tea," she said, hating how breathless she sounded. She wasn't a young debutante any longer. She hadn't been for quite some time.
"Thanks." He sat up and put the journal aside. "I apologize if I woke you."
"Not at all." She smiled, covering the small lie as carefully as possible. "I usually wake early."
"Ah. . .yeah. Me, too."
She watched him as she poured the tea. He wore a blousy white shirt that buttoned up the front, black pants, and black suspenders that lay loosely on his shoulders. It contrasted his lightly-tanned skin quite well and made his blue eyes even more noticeable. Kaela offered him the first cup of tea, and his fingers brushed hers as she handed the cup over to him. She worked to avoid blushing as she poured herself a cup and watched him add the barest amount of sugar to his tea. Searching for something to say, she blurted, "I wish you could tell me of your home."
He smiled, revealing charming dimples. "Me, too."
Realizing what she'd just said, her face paled. "I apologize! I don't know what I was thinking to say something like that!"
"It's alright." He waved a hand and took a sip of his tea, making a face somewhere between a grimace and a grin. When he took a second sip, she supposed it to be a positive reaction to the tea. He glanced at her. "Thank you, by the way. Not many people would be willing to open their home to a stranger who knows nothing about himself."
Kaela sat forward and put her teacup on the table. "My father reads people well, Evan. He would not have brought you here if he did not trust you."
He simply smiled at her.
"He tells me you are a hero." She wanted to hear him talk more, to pull him out of his silence. Part of her wanted to hear how he'd saved the day, but another, much smaller, part of her wanted to help him remember.
"Yeah, that's what he said." He shrugged, a tiny smile hinting at the dimples she knew were there.
"It is more than that." She barely stopped herself from laying a hand on his arm. "You saved five people."
"And didn't save seven of them." His soft words, almost unheard over the roar of the ocean crashing its way to shore, hung between them.
Kaela wondered what to say to that. She knew that men died in war. She understood that it was a necessary part of life. But what about those left behind, those responsible for the safety of the ones killed? Was that Evan? Or had he just stepped into the role of commander when the opportunity arose? She didn't imagine him as one who would take an opportunity for advancement regardless of who got hurt in the process. But she could see him stepping up as a commander when the time was right.
He drew in a deep breath, licked his lips, and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. I know it's expected in war, but. . . .I should have been able to protect them."
This time, she did put her hand on his arm, his warmth soaking through the shirt sleeve and into her palm. "You brought five of them back."
"And I had a group of twelve. Plus myself."
She narrowed her eyes, seeing the way the weight of that settled onto his shoulders. To tell him that he could have done nothing to save them would not help, and she refused to trivialize what he'd experienced. "So, you remember?"
"The escape?" Evan shrugged. "Yeah."
"That's good!" Then, Kaela realized what she'd said. "Well, that others died isn't, but. . . ."
"I knew what you meant." He smiled at her then, and her heart flipped in her chest. "Yeah, I remember. Bits and pieces. Mainly just my time here, in Talgrom. I keep hoping every day will be the day that I know who I am, but. . . ." He shrugged again.
She tightened her hold on his arm, trying to put every ounce of her belief behind that simple motion. "I have no doubt you will remember all when the time is right."
"Yeah." He set his teacup aside and turned to stare out to sea.
Seeing that he needed time, Kaela gathered the tea things and went back inside. Evan would remember in his own time. She was confident of that. The return of his memories relating to the escape meant more than he'd admitted. She just hoped his memories didn't include a woman who would lay claim to his heart. While she wasn't in love with him, she knew enough to know that she could easily fall in love with Evan if he allowed it.
oOo
Evan watched Kaela escape back inside and let out a frustrated sigh. He should never have talked about the escape. But, with the memories so fresh in his mind, he was able to think of little else. His hand stole to his ribs, which had begun to throb in earnest after he'd sat down, and he shook his head. Something in him—the macho part of him—kept him from showing Kaela just how much pain he really felt. Not all of it was emotional pain. His head had started pounding in time with his ribs, and he knew he'd have to ask Andren for something to dull it.
Looking out over the beach, Evan slouched in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He felt the grit in his eyes from restless sleep and knew the nights would likely get worse before they got better. His memories seemed intent on becoming the sharpest when he consciously forgot about them, and he'd tried to focus on other things. But, for some reason, they chose the hours just before dawn to reveal themselves.
Evan reached for his sketch pad and flipped through the pages. Today, he'd drawn grenades: round devices that he'd dug into the ground with the express purpose of killing another human being. But war was war, and soldiers dealt with those harsh realities or they went insane. Is that what happened to Josus? Had he seen so much chaos that his mind had finally fractured? He couldn't be sure.
He turned the page and pressed his lips together to keep the emotions at bay. The two women, their eyes bright with hope, stared up from the page. He'd drawn them as he remembered them from the planning session. He couldn't recall their names, but the smiles that touched their faces told of their trust in him. Trust that he'd ultimately betrayed. Not so much "betrayed" as "failed," his mind reminded him. One of the men with him had tried to go back when the women had fallen, and Evan had grabbed the man's shirt, shoving him forward and yelling for him to run. That fellow looked back and took a bullet in the chest. Evan hadn't even looked back, knowing from the amount of blood that the guy wouldn't survive.
Turning the page, Evan narrowed his eyes. He'd sketched Josus as he realized that only six of them had escaped. Evan had managed to rescue only five people from the camp, and dozens more remained behind. Josus had cried openly, and Evan had wanted to join him. Still wanted to join him.
Tired of the memories, Evan turned back to the front of the book. His dream lady smiled at him, her smile making him remember happier days. At least, his heart remembered happier days. Just the sight of that smile soothed away the mounting frustration. Suddenly, he wanted to add color to the image, to paint it onto a canvas and hang it in his room.
He frowned. Was that part of who he was? Was he an artist of some sort, one who offset the horrors of war that he'd obviously experienced with the beauty of artwork? Did he sell anything? He couldn't be certain, but he touched his dream lady's face as he made a decision. He'd speak to Andren today and see about getting some paints and canvases. Maybe, just maybe, he'd remember something worth painting.
oOo
Sheppard stood in front of the gate, watching with a heavy heart as the wormhole disengaged. They'd just sent a group of Replicators through to a space gate on the other side.
"You're sure the DHD reconfiguration worked?" Woolsey asked.
"Yes. They were sent through a space gate." McKay paused for a moment, his voice soft and uncharacteristically broken. "I guess that answers the questions as to whether it was really Elizabeth."
No one answered him. No one could. They'd returned from their last mission looking for Lorne in a Jumper. At the time, they'd debated whether Lorne had found a space-capable fighter of some kind in his escape, but that had quickly been replaced by the hassle of dealing with Replicators who had taken up residence within first the Jumper's and then Atlantis's systems. Their shock at learning that it was Elizabeth Weir's Replicator double shifted their focus from Sheppard's missing second-in-command to more pressing issues. Like surviving when Koracen, the leader of the other Replicators, decided to keep his Replicator body and take Atlantis by force.
Now, however, Sheppard stared at the gate and tried to refocus his mind. In one day, he'd betrayed the remnant of Elizabeth's consciousness and also had lost any hope of keeping Lorne from being declared MIA. Woolsey was distracted right now, and he would likely be distracted for a short time. But, sometime tomorrow, he'd expect a report. And Sheppard didn't want to tell him the truth. Nor did he want to tell Jennifer.
Turning from the gate, John headed for the infirmary. Jennifer had kept her staff holed up there during the recent crisis, ready to treat wounds and hoping to stay out of the way. John admired her tenacity and focus when others' lives were on the line. He had no doubt that she already suspected the truth since Lorne hadn't returned with them, but telling her still stung. Especially on the heels of what had just happened.
First Ford. Then Carson. Then Elizabeth. Then Heightmeyer. And now Lorne. When did it end?
"Sheppard!" McKay's voice broke into John's thoughts. He jogged to Sheppard's side. "Headed to the infirmary?"
"Where else?"
"You know, there's the possibility that Lorne didn't go through the gate to that address."
"Then who did?" John asked.
"I don't know." Rodney snapped his fingers. "Maybe it was the Wraith."
John gave him an irritated look. "The Wraith?"
"Yeah, well, we don't know if a random dart came through and culled a few people in the last couple of weeks before Lorne went missing."
"I think they would have told us if that had happened."
"Hey, you never know."
John frowned. "I think it's safe to say that Lorne didn't go to the 'flying monkey planet.'"
"I'm not saying that he did." McKay gave him a grin that said he was acting like a child. "I'm saying it's possible he was taken on board the dart."
"Culled?" John didn't like what that option meant. "That's not what happened."
"You can't just decide it isn't what happened because you don't like it," Rodney said.
John didn't even comment. He just left McKay standing in the hallway.
Rodney did have a point, though. They had no idea how many of those addresses were from recent use. From what they'd been able to find, Orenth's only real trading partner was the Genii. They'd checked in with Ladon Radim, who promised to contact Atlantis if he heard news on Lorne's location. But John hadn't fully believed the Genii leader. Ladon might be better than Cowen, but he was still Genii.
In the infirmary, Jennifer glanced up from where she'd been straightening scattered supplies. "Colonel." She smiled slightly. "Had one of those displacement currents Rodney talked about come straight through here. I'm just glad I didn't have any patients in the infirmary at the time."
"Yeah, me, too." John moved to her side, glancing around to see that Cole and Marie had given them space.
Jennifer met his eyes. "You didn't find him, did you?"
"No." John took her by her shoulders. "But we're not going to stop looking."
She nodded once. "When will you tell Woolsey?"
"Tomorrow." He wanted to pull her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Jennifer."
She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. More of a flattening of the lips meant to put a happy face on a bad situation. "You've done your best." She pulled out of his hands and walked into her office, closing the door behind her.
John shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked out of the infirmary. Rodney was nowhere to be found, and John was glad. He wanted to pummel something right now, not debate the odds of Lorne having found something capable of keeping him alive in space. At the current moment, it looked as if Lorne had just disappeared. And he couldn't do a single thing about it.
oOo
"Go, go, go!" The order rang through the air only to be drowned out by another explosion. He ducked as dirt and debris rained down on him and the two others with him. Ahead of them, the huge ring glowed, and a third man rushed them along. Bullets whizzed overhead, and he whirled. Lifting his weapon, he fired, the burst of bullets giving the others enough time to walk through the shimmering circle. He turned to run, but another explosion knocked him off his feet. He coughed at the dirt that filled his mouth and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Just as he regained his footing, he realized he'd turned away from the circle. He whirled, intent on making it through the shimmer just as his team had, and became intimately acquainted with the butt end of a rifle.
Evan blinked at the window, seeing the first hints of dawn on the horizon. He'd left it open last night, loving the soothing roar of the ocean. Now, he frowned. He must have fallen asleep in his chair even though he clearly remembered lying down in bed. Had he awakened in the middle of the night and moved here for comfort?
Pushing to his feet, he walked to the window and stared out. He clearly saw the faces of his team, men he trusted with his life. Names hadn't appeared, but he saw their faces. Rather than staring at the ocean, he grabbed his sketch book and began to draw.
An hour later, all the faces down in clear, concise detail, he rose and walked back to the window. His room had warmed since he'd awakened, and he relished the cool breeze coming from the ocean. He vaguely remembered being in water on a regular basis, but the location remained a mystery. Still, the certainty that he swam often and for exercise wouldn't leave his mind. He suddenly wanted to feel the waves lapping over his shoulders as he stretched muscles unused for too long.
Decision made, Evan gathered up his clothing and crept downstairs. Yesterday, he'd awakened Kaela with the creak on the fourth step from the top or the squeak of the door when he opened it too widely. He couldn't be sure. Today, he avoided the fourth step, and he squeezed out the door. Confident that he'd escaped without waking his hosts, he left the yard and made his way to the beach. Leaving his clothing in a cleft in the rock, he stripped down to the long shorts he wore and waded into the ocean.
The cold water prickled his skin, but he walked out deeper. Keeping an eye on the shore, he carefully stretched his sore ribs. He didn't need a brisk run or a strenuous swim. Just something to keep his muscles from atrophying from lack of use. Letting the salt water support him, he did the backstroke for a time, staring at the brightening sky.
His mind seemed like that sky. Every night brought new revelations. He'd saved his team. While he couldn't recall their names or where they'd gone or even what they'd used to get there, he knew without doubt that those men had been a team. And he'd been their leader.
Evan sighed and reversed direction in the water. How long would it take for him to remember everything? Andren had cautioned him just yesterday that it would take time, but he hoped for a quick recovery. He needed to get back out into the world. Back out there where he could find his team and lead them again.
Back to his dream lady.
Evan shook his head as he swam toward shore. The sun had just started creeping over the horizon, and he wanted to review the images he'd sketched one more time before anyone else realized he was awake. He wanted more time to remember anything that could help him. He dressed and walked up the stone path to the house. And smiled ruefully.
A tray with a teapot, teacup, sugar bowl and cream pitcher sat on the small table in the back yard. So he'd awakened Kaela again. This morning, he appreciated her discretion in not joining him. While he liked her, she wasn't. . . . He wished he could remember a name. Calling her "the woman in my dreams" or "my dream lady" got old after a while.
Thinking about Kaela brought her image to mind, and he smiled. She was a pretty girl. Yesterday, her red-blond hair had fallen in ringlets around her shoulders, and the sun had lightened her green eyes with its golden glow. But his mind supplied warm brown eyes, softer blond curls, and a warm voice in place of Kaela's appearance.
Pouring himself a cup of tea, Evan settled into the chair and let the morning sun dry his hair and skin as he thought over the night's dreams. As the rays warmed him, he let his determination soar. He would find his way back home. And he would remember who he was. He would return to his dream lady. Anything else was unacceptable and did not befit a soldier of his rank.
He refused to try to figure out that last thought and drank his tea before heading to his room to prepare for the day.
~TBC