Author's Note: So, I'm back from church camp! We had a wonderful time, even if it was hot. Thank you for everyone who patiently waited for an update. There should be no further delays in posting this story, so hopefully we'll see an end soon. :) Also, this chapter contains spoilers for "The Shrine." Enjoy! ~lg
oOo
The following morning, Kaela rose just as the sun crested the horizon. The sound of the tide rushing to shore filled her room, and she smiled. She loved the sound of the beach and the birds that called out to one another. After taking a moment to enjoy the comfort of her home, she pushed out of her bed and walked to her dresser. Her hair, which had been curled and arranged nicely at last night's dinner party, was a tangled mess.
Moving to the window, Kaela began patiently working the tangles from her long hair as her eyes roamed the scene. Very few people came onto this desolate stretch of sand, and she enjoyed seeing the pristine sand first thing in the morning. Today, however, footprints marred the sand, and a dark head bobbed in the surf, strong arms pinwheeling as the man swam along the shore. Kaela narrowed her eyes, her brush and hair forgotten as she tried to figure out which one of the neighbor boys had tried to spy on her yet again. It had happened in the past, and she handled it with enough aplomb that the parents usually threatened their sons in private.
Today, however, was different. The dark head bobbed around for a few moments longer and then turned toward the beach. Kaela's excellent eyesight focused, and she blinked a few times to be sure she'd seen clearly.
Evan walked out of the surf, wearing only a pair of black knee-length breeches. Water dripped off his body, and he ran a hand through his short hair, spiking it as he went. He paused when the water reached his hips, turning to survey the ocean and the sunrise and giving Kaela a very nice view of his muscular torso and back.
She stepped away from the window as she struggled to breathe. Her cheeks heated, and she held a hand over her pounding heart. She'd never felt this way toward any other man, and she wondered if she could trust the strength of these emotions. But Evan was the most attractive, most amazing man she'd ever known. And just the image of his muscular body dripping with water was enough to send her heart rate so high that she wondered if she'd be able to survive.
Moving to the window, she peeked out again, watching as Evan faced the beach and continued his slow walk toward the house. She narrowed her eyes, committing every facet of his appearance to memory. This mysterious man, with no memory, just might be the one person to save her from a life of solitude in her father's home. He stopped on the beach, picking up his shirt and pulling it over his head. But the rough fabric clung to the seawater still on his body and did not help Kaela's problem. Instead, it made it worse.
Kaela moved away from the window when Evan neared the house, knowing he'd likely see her if she didn't. She'd never intended to intrude on his personal time. But how was she to know the man went for a morning swim? Her father took morning walks, not morning swims. But Evan. . . .
When she settled at her vanity a few moments later, she stared at her flushed face and admitted the truth. She was moments away from falling in love with Evan, and she hoped that, one day soon, he might return that love.
Still reeling from the revelations of the morning, Kaela dressed and tried to put on an appropriate face for the morning breakfast. But Evan's nearness only made her attraction to him stronger, and she spent the remainder of the day wondering if he'd noticed the change in her at all.
oOo
After his swim, Evan looked over his sketch book. He had a couple that would be perfect for committing to canvas, one in particular. Today, it wasn't his dream lady. It was the man who's casket he'd carried back home. He wished he could remember the details, but his mind refused to unlock for him, like it did every morning.
Frustrated with himself, he tossed the book aside and prepared for the day. Andren had mentioned a soup kitchen today, and Evan wondered if he'd be able to make himself useful. He felt horrible, sitting in Andren's home and doing nothing. That would change as his work for the Prime Minister progressed. But, right now, he wanted to show that he could be productive even without his memories.
Breakfast came and went in with a lot of awkwardness. At one point, Evan frowned at Kaela as she stammered something about the soup kitchen for those hit hard by the civil war. What is with her today? He glanced at Andren and saw that the older man had also noticed his daughter's reactions. She stayed flushed, as if embarrassed, and her eyes skittered over Evan's face and then quickly away. He wondered what he'd done to cause such discomfort and eventually left the table after muttering something about working on a painting.
Back in his room, Evan calculated the hours he had left before going to the soup kitchen and decided he could get his work done. He prepared his canvas, opened his paints, and set to work. The painting he'd entitled "Dream Lady" hung across from his bed, where he saw it every morning. Each day, after he'd recovered from the dreams, he vowed to find his way back to her.
Today, however, he chose a different subject. As he applied paint to the canvas, he allowed himself to remember the scant information he had about his subject. Medical doctor. From a country other than Evan's. Cheerful. Always resenting military officers ordering him around, especially those who didn't respect his own profession. Evan painted kind blue eyes, feeling like he'd received horrible news from them before. And maybe he had. He couldn't help but think that he'd somehow found a friend after losing him. Or could it be a brother of sorts?
Around the lunch hour, he set aside his paintbrush and walked to the window. With his hands on his hips, he stared at the ocean. He had a job to do in Talgrom. But he wasn't from here. That wanderlust, for lack of a better term, had stirred last night, and it grew stronger with every passing hour. He wanted to go home. . .if he could just remember where home was.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he found Kaela standing at the door. "We are preparing to. . . ." Her voice trailed off as she saw the painting he'd just finished. "Did you paint that?"
"Ah. . .yeah." Evan leaned against the door, unsure if he should invite her in or tell her to wait for him. Now that he'd cleared the night's memories from his head, he clearly saw the attraction in her eyes. Her gaze skittered over his chest and shoulders once again, and realization dawned. She must have seen him coming out of the water. Somehow, that didn't make him feel better. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Just let me clean up a bit."
"Yes! Of course!" Kaela glanced at the painting again and hesitated. "What is it called?"
Evan turned to look at the portrait one more time, and a name came to mind. "Carson. It's called Carson."
Kaela left him alone, then, and Evan frowned. As he'd looked at the painting, the name had just come to mind. He waited for the rush of memory that he expected, but nothing happened. No illumination. No memory. Just. . .Carson.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he quickly cleaned up for the afternoon and rushed downstairs. Andren was just gathering up his coat as Evan appeared. Evan grabbed his hat and rammed it onto his head, rushing out the door as Kaela and Maeryn disappeared down the path.
Andren smiled. "Kaela told me you were painting."
"Ah. . . ." Evan didn't like the discomfort that stirred when he thought about Kaela's glimpse into his room. He liked the girl well enough, but she didn't inspire his confidence. "Yeah. I was painting."
"She mentioned a name?"
Evan smirked. "Yes. I named the painting Carson. Not sure why. It just looked. . . ." He let his voice trail off and shook his head.
"It looked like a Carson?" Andren asked.
"Yeah." Evan shoved his hands in his pockets and didn't say anything else until they arrived in Talgrom. At the train, Maeryn and Andren sat side by side, leaving Evan to accompany Kaela. As they sat close to one another in the train, Evan tried to reason out his feelings. He liked Kaela, but something balked at the idea of getting involved with her.
They arrived at the soup kitchen before he figured everything out. Maeryn and Kaela were swept into the kitchen with the other ladies. Evan remembered most of them from last night, but they weren't wearing their finery. Today, they wore sensible white blouses with dark colored skirts. A few, like Kaela, had on a matching vest that accented their form. He caught the glances from young ladies and mothers and knew he'd have his hands full if he didn't figure out something to do.
Andren clearly understood his dilemma. He clapped Evan on the shoulder and steered him toward the rear of the main room. "Over here, lad. You'll appreciate it."
"Thanks." Evan grinned. "I already appreciate it."
Andren chuckled and led him to a table with three other men, all of them ranging from his age and down to Evan's. He pointed from the eldest to the youngest, listing their names in turn. "Acton, Iden, and Maitland, meet Evan."
Acton raised a cup filled with something alcoholic from the way his eyes shone. "Welcome, Evan." He kicked out a chair, sounding jovial as he laughed. "From what Andren tells us, you're quite the hero."
"Ah. . .yeah." Evan settled into the chair and accepted a cup of water from Kaela. She smiled at him and boldly touched his shoulder as she left the men alone. Maitland, the youngest, followed her with a look that fell between heartbroken and longing in his eyes. Evan shrugged with one shoulder. "Or, so I'm told."
Maitland refocused on Evan's face. "From what I've heard, you singlehandedly escaped a war prisoner's camp."
"Yeah." Evan forced a smile. "I remember bits and pieces of it."
Acton looked sharply at Andren. "Amnesia?"
"So it would seem." Andren shrugged. "He's slowly regaining memories, but. . . ."
"I see." Acton's eyes narrowed. "Then you know nothing of this war."
Evan's ears pricked at that question phrased as a statement. He licked his lips once. "I know what I've been told, but it's pretty vague. I'm hoping to learn more as my memories return."
Acton nodded once and turned the conversation to other topics. The meal was cooked, served, and eaten as they discussed Maitland's family farm-which had been given to his sister on their father's death-Iden's mother-in-law issues, and Acton's soon-to-arrive grandbaby. Through the meal, Kaela made regular appearances, filling the men's water and touching Evan's shoulder every time. He shifted in his chair, wishing she'd just stop even as he noticed Maitland's eyes watching her every move. Was the girl clueless or merely trying to make Maitland jealous? Evan couldn't be sure.
Conversation switched direction after a while, turning to the economy and scarcity of certain types of food since the beginning of the war. Evan listened closely, trying to glean as much information as possible in the hopes that it would make sense. But he couldn't find any cause for alarm. Culver didn't seem like the type to arrest someone simply for disagreeing with his policies, and Acton never came out and said anything even remotely close to treason. By the end of the meal, Evan merely wanted to return to his room, his paintings, and his hopes of finding his own home.
oOo
"Jennifer, there's something I wanted to, um. . .while I remember, while I still can; there's something I wanted to say before, um. . . ."
Jennifer watched the video, her emotions in an uproar.
"Go ahead," her video self urged gently.
"I. . .I. . .I love you." McKay's recorded words brought a smile to Jennifer's face, even now. "I've loved you for some time now." In the video, he smiled and looked down. When he looked up, he was back to himself. "Okay. Where was I?"
Jennifer stopped the video, torn between her emotions and her desire to hear those wonderful three words again. She'd spent the last few days in the infirmary, working to save Rodney McKay from a parasite that basically returned him to a child. She'd watched him degenerate at such a speed that it actually scared her. She was losing a patient and friend, and she didn't have Evan there to comfort her when it finally happened.
The arrival of Jeannie Miller and the subsequent visit to the shrine of Ronon's memories was a lifesave, both for McKay and for Jennifer. But she couldn't forget what Rodney said to her. In the time she'd spent with him, she'd allowed herself to feel a bit of compassion for the physicist, her anger at his comment about her and Lorne finding a room softening as he transformed into a charming man. She'd never expected his declaration, and she had run from the room when he first said it.
Since that day, she'd been so conflicted that she couldn't eat or sleep. Every time she returned to her quarters, she saw Evan's shirt and pillow, reminders of his presence in the city. Every morning, she stared at the painting Colonel Sheppard had hung in her office. She'd been angry that John had moved the paintings at first, but it became something of a comfort to see Evan's work so proudly displayed. It brought her hope.
On the other hand, she had Rodney McKay. Alive. Present. Willing to do anything for her, even share the fruit cup from his tray. She'd doubted McKay's words until just a few moments ago, when he lingered after Jeannie left the infirmary. He then touched her elbow with a gentle hand and apologized for saying what he did in John's office. And he asked her to dinner. Of course, he meant in the mess hall, but it was a sweet gesture on his part.
So, what did she do? She believed Evan was alive somewhere. But was he? Or was she just hanging on to memories that should be forgotten? Should she abandon her hopes for someone alive and living in Atlantis?
Tired of the questions and feeling a headache beginning to throb behind her eyes, Jennifer shut down the equipment, left the infirmary, and wandered to her quarters. The questions didn't stop, of course, but it was easier to figure things out here, where she could cry if she needed. Sitting on her bed, she grabbed Evan's pillow and held it to her nose, smelling his scent and letting it fill her with nostalgia. It also carried her back to that day, when he'd kissed her.
Jennifer shook her head, pushed the pillow away, and climbed into a shower. She'd relived that kiss a hundred times, trying to find meaning in what they'd ignored. Evan had seemed apologetic the next day. But that night, right after Ronon's detox from the Wraith enzyme, he hadn't worried about what others thought. His smile was so gentle, his eyes sparkling, and she could almost feel his arms around her even now.
Could she really date Rodney not knowing what happened to Evan? She'd heard stories of soldiers overseas who came home to wives shoving divorce papers in their faces. Some returned to fiances and girlfriends who found someone else to fill the void while their soldier was away. Jennifer had always sneered at such women, wondering what could drive them to be so cruel to America's finest as they served in war zones. Now, she understood. Though she and Evan had no understanding between them, her heart was torn between hoping for what they might share or settling for second best.
"Wow, Jenn, you're a real piece of work," she told herself as she shampooed her hair. "McKay is a good man, not second best."
But he was second best for her, and she knew it. Had Evan never kissed her, had they never shared that one moment that changed her mind about getting involved with a soldier, she might have accepted Rodney's declaration. But she couldn't, in good conscious, date Rodney without knowing Evan's fate. She couldn't do that to a man as good as Evan Lorne. She refused to turn into such a shallow woman.
Decision made, Jennifer finished showering, prepared for bed, and slept soundly for the rest of the night.
oOo
"Andren." Acton's voice reached his ears as he watched the chaos of clean-up in the soup kitchen. Evan had sat at their table, laughing and chatting while watching each of the men closely.
"Acton." Andren eyed him. The man was good. Very good. "Are you satisfied?"
"With Evan?" Acton shrugged. "Maybe. He's a hero, and having a man like him in our corner would be a great thing. But I'm concerned since he lives with you."
Andren turned and frowned. "Just because he lives with me does not mean I dictate what he thinks or does."
"No, but you do report directly to Culver." Acton smiled coldly. "And I know you're not fully sold on our agenda."
Andren let out a deep sigh. He'd tried to pretend complete agreement with Acton's tactics, but he could not commit treason so easily. Culver trusted him, as did Evan. If he turned, those two men would be in danger.
If he didn't turn, his family would be in danger. He knew it from the way Acton's eyes went to Kaela and Maeryn. "What do you want?"
"Your support." Acton put a hand on his shoulder. "Your total support."
"I don't. . . ."
"Consider your family." Acton glanced at Kaela. "She is a beautiful woman—your daughter. But she is reaching the years when she is no longer desirable for marriage. I noticed how taken she is with Evan, but I also know another young man of impeccable breeding who is completely smitten with your daughter."
Andren let out another deep breath. He'd also seen Maitland's infatuation with Kaela, and he'd considered speaking to the young man about it. "And your point?"
"If you join us, I will personally see to it that Kaela does not become an old maid." Acton shrugged. "I merely need your help with advanced knowledge of Culver's tactics. And Grian's."
Andren closed his eyes. "Let me think about it."
"Take the time you need. Just don't take too long. Derron wishes to move soon, to recapture the Ring. He needs as much information as we can give him." Acton turned to go and then frowned. "What of Evan? Is he loyal to Culver?"
Andren eyed his house guest, knowing that Evan's loyalties didn't lie with anyone on Orenth. "His loyalties are not an issue. He has not disagreed with Culver, but he does not put his full support behind Culver." It was true. To an extent.
Acton nodded once, satisfied. "Consider my offer, my friend."
Andren watched the man walk away, his heart sinking. He knew he was getting up in years, and he worried about who would care for Maeryn and Kaela when he passed from this life. Maitland would make a great husband for Kaela, but she clearly fancied Evan.
What of that man? He could not just turn Evan over to Acton without consequences. Evan wasn't from Orenth, and his people would one day return. Or so Andren believed.
If he did this, he'd have to protect Evan from Acton. And from Culver. His dinner already twisted in his stomach, and he tried to wait patiently for his family to finish their chores. Once at home, however, he locked himself in his study with his books, using the excuse of research to hide his turmoil. He needed to make a decision. And soon. But which one was the right one?
oOo
He sat on the hospital bed, the covers rumpled but not hiding the weapons he'd discarded. Tonight, however, his bed was on the beach, the stars overhead sparkling brilliantly. The ocean's roar pounded in time with his heart, and he watched her appear. She moved toward him, her brown eyes sparkling as she told him something. He could not be certain what she said. His attention had been captured by the flowing pale pink gown she wore. It fell to her feet and billowed in the sea breeze behind her, giving him glimpses of her form when it pressed against her body. But it did not reveal anything to him. No name. No feature other than her face and feminine silhouette.
He stood, like in his previous dream. Though it was surreal, he knew this wasn't real. The actions. . .yes. Those happened. But the location? This was born of his time in Andren's home.
She glanced up at him, her skin glowing in the moonlight. The gown, an off-the-shoulder number that highlighted her neck and softly-curled blond hair, reflected into her eyes as she held his gaze. He reached out, touched her jaw, and turned her head into a kiss. One kiss wasn't enough, though, and he kissed her again.
Evan woke still in his bed, dawn hours away. The moonlight through his window slanted off of his painting of Carson and vaguely showed the pink gown in his painting of his dream lady. Why could he not remember her?
Rather than rising and committing this dream to paper, Evan rolled onto his side, turning his back to the room. He needed to think clearly, not get caught up in fantasies about the one woman he couldn't forget but could not name.
In an effort to forget about his own personal struggles, he went over the evening. Every word he could remember. Every innuendo. Every glance that Maitland gave Kaela and every touch Kaela gave Evan. He wanted the girl to be happy, but he wanted her to be happy with someone other than him. It wasn't right to embark on the kind of mission Culver had given him with Kaela waiting around for him to return. He'd already left one woman behind. He didn't need to do the same to another.
Irritated at himself, Evan pulled his mind back to Acton and his questions about the economy. Tonight's meeting was an interview. He realized it now. The underground group that Culver wanted him to infiltrate clearly used the soup kitchen as cover for their operations. And it worked. Who would suspect a group of men who sat around, ate free food, and chattered about the weather, farms, the economy, and any number of items? For some reason, the phrase "good ol' boys" came to mind, and Evan worried that there might be a lot more out there.
Was Culver really as honest as he pretended? Or was Derron right? Evan shook his head, realizing that these questions were brought up by Acton's rhetoric. The man was incredible at using simple conversation to spread his propaganda. It created doubt in the minds of his listeners and converted them to his cause before they truly understood what had happened.
His mind totally distracted from his dream, Evan rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. He'd document everything and put it in a safe place. He'd seen Andren and Acton speaking after the meal had ended. He'd recognized the pinched expression on Andren's face as Acton walked away. And he worried that he might be doing more than uncovering a cell of traitors.
He might be living with a corrupt governmental official. And that kind always had the most to lose. He just needed to find out what Andren considered so precious that he'd betray his own country for it. Once he did that, he'd be ready to begin the real work.
Evan laid awake the rest of the night, considering his options and not liking where any of them led.
~TBC