Chapter 4: The Potato Eaters

Location: The Netherlands
Key Date: Tuesday 20 th July, 1999

From Russia Evan and Elaine travelled to Denmark and from there to the Netherlands. Two weeks in St. Petersburg spent almost entirely in or around the Hermitage, followed by three days in Copenhagen visiting Statens Museum for Kunst saw them almost two thirds of the way through July and into the heart of summer in Europe.

As travelling companions, the two worked well together. Most of that was down to Elaine who understood her older brother well enough to know when to give him space and when to push him to talk about what was going on in that stubborn head of his. They hadn't talked more about what had happened to John or Evan's part in it but Elaine could see a change in him. He seemed more settled within himself, although there were still plenty of times when she could see he was thinking about the friend he'd lost. She couldn't say for sure but it seemed that now Evan was thinking as much about when John had been alive as he was about how he'd died. Of course she knew it wasn't as simple as that ... Evan often took responsibility to a whole new level and her being there, getting him to talk about it, wasn't going to just switch that off. It was a start though, and one it seemed he'd desperately needed, even if she couldn't help him with the rest of his recovery.

Their only point of contention had been before setting off from St. Petersburg to Copenhagen. Elaine had wanted to fly, not keen to spend 7 hours on a train to Helsinki and then more than 20 hours travelling from there to Copenhagen. Even travelling on the overnight train it was still a long journey.

"If you're in a hurry to get there, don't let me stop you," Evan returned, effectively cutting off any means for talking him around.

"I want to stay with you," Elaine almost stamped her foot in annoyance.

"Well I'm taking the train," he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the next argument.

"You know ... flyboy ... I'm a little surprised you're not out there trying to hire your own plane," Elaine said sarcastically.

"Don't call me that," Evan shot back.

That was when she realised there was more to his desire to take the long way than just wanting to annoy her. He seemed almost angry and that just wasn't like her brother. "Okay, fine," she made a production out of giving in.

"Good," he relaxed immediately, putting an arm around her and urging her along. "Now go pack ... we're leaving tonight."

"Yes Sir," she muttered snidely.

When they'd been in Copenhagen for a couple of days and Evan began talking about the train trip from there to Amsterdam, Elaine wisely said nothing.

oOo

Twelve hours after starting out Evan and Elaine stepped from the train at Amsterdam Centraal on another warm and sunny day.

"This is nice," Elaine said, smiling across at her brother as they walked from the station in the direction of their next Gallery destination.

"Yeah," Evan glanced up from his map. "Let's go to the Van Gogh Museum straight up ... we can find a place to stay along the way."

Nodding, Elaine kept pace with him as they walked down Stationplein. "So what's on the must see list here?" she asked curiously.

"Everything," he said with a chuckle. "But the Potato Eaters is at the top."

"Did you know ...," Elaine looked at him and then stopped.

"Go on," Evan encouraged.

"Okay ... did you know that his patron was his younger brother Theo?" she finished. "Because of that, because of all the letters Vincent wrote to Theo we know what he was trying to do with many of his paintings, maybe more so than any other artist."

"Unlike El Greco," he grinned teasingly. "Some people still think his paintings were influenced by drugs and a severe stigmatism."

"Exactly!" Elaine laughed. She was going to say more until they turned a corner and she saw a large building across the street with orange and white awnings sitting behind a large fountain. The signage proclaimed it the American Hotel. "Ooh! Evan – let's stay there!" she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

"Looks a little expensive," he commented, letting himself be drawn across the road and around the corner to the main entrance. It was an impressive facade housing an equally impressive interior in the Art Nouveau style. Nodding to a group of tourists watching their procession with amused smiled he followed his sister until they arrived at the front desk. "Okay," he couldn't bring himself to crush the look of excitement from her face. "But only for a couple of days."

"Thank you!" Elaine hugged his arm, almost bouncing in her eagerness.

"My sister is very keen to stay here so I hope you've got rooms available," Evan told the desk clerk.

"Of course Sir," the woman responded with a friendly smile.

A few minutes later they were being shown to a suite, two rooms and a living space, up market and impressively decored. Watching as Elaine bounced enthusiatically from one thing to the next Evan decided the expense had been worth it.

oOo

Lorne had a true appreciation for art ... both the creation and the viewing of it. But he'd never been completely captivated – carried away for the real world – by a painting ... until he saw The Potato Eaters for the first time.

It was a simple image ... five figures at a table sitting down to a meal of potatoes and what looked like coffee but was actually a brew made from chicory. Peasants, with coarse features, low foreheads and thick lips, dressed in drab attire ... everything about them proclaiming their lot in life. Van Gogh had set out deliberately to create his first masterpiece with the picture ... a study of peasants, not to malign them but to show that they lived in harmony with their unspoiled, natural environment ... the beginning of representing his views about art and society in synchrony.

As an intended masterpiece of the time it had fallen well short, never being exhibited at The Salon as Vincent had intended. Its prominence and importance in the continuing development of modern art had only occurred after the artist's death.

Evan sat on the bench in front of the painting for hours, not aware of the passage of time. As he continued to consider the image his eyes were drawn to the woman on the right, looking at the man next to her. He was focussed on the female figure across the table, unaware of her regard. The expression on her face ... the longing in her eyes ... had Evan consumed with the whys. Why was she looking at the man while he looked elsewhere? Was he her husband, her brother, or perhaps a guest she hoped to win affection from? What was it she wanted from him? Approval, love, thanks for the meal she'd toiled in the fields and in their meagre house to provide for him?

The images were based on real models – they'd lived in 1885 when the painting had been created much as the painting portrayed. Had Van Gogh imagined that air of contentment or was that a true reflection of the time? The idea that contentment could be found under such conditions interested Evan just as much as trying to decide what each of the figures was really thinking.

"Evan?" Elaine's hand on his shoulder drew his attention back to the present.

"Hey," he turned to greet her.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she asked in surprise, the two having separated pretty much as soon as they'd stepped through the museum doors.

"Yeah," he admitted ruefully. "What time is it?"

"Lunch time," she revealed.

"Damn, sorry," Evan got up quickly, surprised he'd been there for so long. "I meant to come find you an hour ago."

"It's okay," Elaine smiled. "I'm glad this one lived up to expectations."

"And then some," he replied, turning to look again at the painting before following her from the room.

"Don't worry Honey, you can come back and see it again tomorrow," she said comfortingly, laughing when he looked at her pointedly. "I'm hungry ... what's for lunch?"

"I don't think they're serving smart asses today," he shot back.

"Sorry," Elaine grinned. "The Potato Eaters is clearly worthy of the notice of the great Evan Lorne ... we should all worship it much as we do you."

"Laugh it up Lainee," he replied, nodding to the security guard at the door as they exited the main building. Off to the right construction was almost complete on a second building, the new Exhibition wing that would open later in the year. "Let's see if we can find somewhere that serves potatoes ... since I know how much you love them."

"Okay – you win," she stopped and bowed to him. They both knew she hated potatoes in any form.

"You can have what you want ... as long as you agree to come and see the painting with me another day ... with an open mind," he proposed.

"Deal," she grinned, wrapping a hand around his upper arm and encouraging him to get moving again.

oOo

"Happy Birthday!" Evan cracked open an eye three days later to see his sister standing beside his bed, hands clutching a small, gift wrapped package.

"What?" he frowned in confusion.

"It's the 22nd of July silly," Elaine said in exasperation. "The day we've celebrated your arrival into the world for the past 29 years."

"Oh ... that," he muttered less than enthusiastically.

"Get up birthday scrooge," she said insistently.

"This is really why you came over here isn't it?" he complained, rolling over and burying his head in his pillow. "To torture me."

"Of course," Elaine said sarcastically. "I flew more than 6000 miles just to make sure you couldn't skip out of celebrating your birthday. Because that's just the kind of sister I am." She waited to see if he was going to move but he gave every appearance of going back to sleep. "Evan ... please?" she put 25 years of sisterly wheedling into the tone she knew he couldn't resist.

"Fine," his voice came back muffled through the pillow. "I'll get up ... just give me a minute here okay?"

"A minute," she said firmly before leaving him alone.

"Happy 29th old man," he muttered to himself, rolling over again to stare up at the ceiling. Twenty Nine! God, where had that time gone? Sighing, Evan sat up, knowing he was in for a difficult day. He'd have to play along with whatever Elaine had planned and try to look happy about it ... and he'd have to call his Mom.

oOo

"Happy Birthday," Elaine said for the second time that morning, pushing the small rectangular package across the table. They'd had a light breakfast in the hotel restaurant and were finishing up with coffee.

"What is it?" Evan looked at the package curiously.

"That would be the point of opening it hotshot," she pointed out sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Right," he grinned, picked up the gift and removing the paper quickly. Lifting the lid, he looked down at the contents for a moment before meeting her expectant eyes. "A mobile phone?" he asked pointedly.

"You don't have one," she pointed out, "which is really inconvenient when I want to talk to you. Sometimes you don't call back for days!"

"You do realise a birthday present is supposed to be something the recipient, not the giver, wants, right?" he pinned her with a sharp look.

"Get with the times old man," Elaine teased, not taking offence that he was less than impressed with her efforts. Taking the box from him she removed the slim black phone and pressed the on button. "I programmed in a few numbers for you," she said, pressing more buttons and then handing the phone to him, "including one you need to call today."

Evan glanced at the number – home back in LA – and nodded wordlessly. Switching off the phone he shoved it in his back pocket. "Later," he promised. Finishing up his coffee, he got up and moved to Elaine's side of the table. "Thanks Sis," he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Hey, don't go anywhere," she grabbed his hand, holding him back. "I've got plans for you!"

"I was afraid of that," Evan quipped, nor really minding despite his protests.

"If you're a good boy I'll let you go back to see your favourite painting later," Elaine said piously.

"I'm 29 Sis," he pointed out. "Don't you think I've left being a boy behind by now?"

"Men remain boys their entire lives," she said knowingly. "It's a well established fact."

"Right," he laughed. "Well, come on then. Don't sit there day dreaming. Let's get this birthday crap over with."

"You're such a charmer Evan. I'm surprised you don't have a horde of women chasing after you," Elaine said, letting him pull her up from her chair.

"Who says I don't?" he teased. "Maybe that's the real reason I had to leave Italy."

"In your dreams," Elaine laughed, happy to see her brother behaving more like the man she knew.

oOo

"Evan James Lorne!" his Mother's voice over the phone had him wincing in dismay. He'd let Elaine take him on a tour of the non art related sights of Amsterdam and then to lunch. She'd promised him their next stop would be the Van Gogh museum – once he'd called home – and then left him at the table alone with a look that said he better do it right there and then.

"That's the name you gave me ... 29 years ago today, remember?" he tried to steer her away from being angry he hadn't called before.

"Yes ... Happy Birthday dear," Grace Lorne returned. "But don't think that's going to get you off the hook young man," she added sternly.

"Ah ... no Ma'am," he sighed, feeling the silence she was deliberately letting build, knowing eventually he'd feel compelled to fill it. "I'm sorry I haven't called since I left Vicenza," he finally caved and gave her what she wanted.

"And so you should be," Grace replied. "Almost two months Evan! Do you know how concerned I've been ... after Elaine told me about your friend, and no word from you?"

"I did write to you Mom," Evan tried to excuse himself.

"'Don't be worried'!" she quoted him pointedly. "Who starts a letter like that? It's like telling someone not to look down!"

"I ah ... okay, I deserved that," he acknowledged. "I just ... I wasn't ready to talk about it."

There was silence from the other end of the line before his Mom spoke again. "And now?" she asked carefully.

"Now ... I don't know," Evan picked at the label of his water bottle as he considered the question. "It's better Mom but ...," he trailed of awkwardly.

"But you don't want to talk about it over the phone," she concluded. "That's fine Evan. Elaine's there looking after you so I suppose I'll have to be content with that."

"More like I'm looking after her," Evan chuckled.

"Well it'll give you something to do dear," Grace retorted. "Keep you out of mischief."

"I guess ... although I really didn't need any help with that," he replied.

"What are you doing for your birthday?" his Mom asked, her tone hopeful.

"Assuming hiding is out of the question I guess I'll just continue to let Elaine drag me wherever she's planning on dragging me," Evan replied. "If I'm good she'll let me go back to the Museum next – her words."

Grace laughed. "Be strong," she encouraged. Again there was silence, this time comfortable. "Is it what you expected?" she asked.

"Seeing the paintings in person?" he queried. "More than. Especially here ... kinda took me by surprise. You know me Mom – I'm not exactly the day dreaming type but I sat in front of The Potato Eaters and I swear hours went by without me even noticing."

"That's wonderful," Grace smiled fondly. "Does this mean I'll be seeing something from you in the future?"

"Maybe," Evan knew she was talking about his painting, the fact that he'd given it up as he'd gotten further and further into his military career something they didn't talk about. He knew she was disappointed though, that she'd hoped he'd give up his lifelong love affair with the sky in favour of a career in art. "I've been sketching since Florence ... nothing elaborate but ...," he trailed off, giving a shrug she couldn't see.

"It's a start," she said, her tone approving.

"You should plan some time off in the future," Evan suggested. "Come over and see it all for yourself."

"Maybe one day," Grace dismissed, changing the subject. "I'll let you go now – this call must be costing you a fortune. Tell Elaine to behave herself ... and don't wait so long before calling me again."

"I won't," Evan responded to the last part of her statement, knowing from experience that there was no point in protesting or pointing out that he could afford to talk to her for longer.

"Happy Birthday baby," Grace said softly. "I love you."

"Thanks Mom," he smiled. "Love you back."

He lowered the phone and stared at the small screen for a moment before slowly switching it off and returning it to his pocket.

"Okay?" Elaine appeared out of nowhere.

"Yeah," he nodded, getting up and joining her. "Mom said to behave yourself."

"What?" I always behave myself," Elaine protested.

"Right, that's why you came here without telling her first," Evan pointed out the flaw in her statement.

"If you want to go back to the museum you better watch your step buddy," she warned, mock glaring at him.

"Shutting up now," he grinned teasingly.

Elaine narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to say something else. When he remained silent she nodded happily. "Okay, the Van Gogh Museum it is. I'll be timing you this time."

oOo

The Potato Eaters was as compelling the second time as it had been the first. Evan had expected the impact to be lessened now that he'd seen it once and was relieved to find he'd been wrong.

After promising to meet back with his sister in an hour he took the same seat he'd taken three days prior, settling in to let his thoughts wander.

"Sir, if you could come with us?"

Startled, Evan looked around to see two officials standing to either side of him, their manner and expressions announcing them as Museum security.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, getting up.

"Please come with us," one of the men repeated, motioning for Evan to walk towards the doorway.

"Okay," he agreed, frowning in confusion. "Elaine – my sister – is she okay?"

"As far as we know Sir. Mr De Jong wishes to have a word with you," the same man explained.

"And who might Mr De Jong be?" Evan asked, starting to get a little annoyed at their cryptic behaviour.

"Museum curator," the other man clarified, leading Lorne through a door with Dutch signage that presumably said staff only and down a long corridor. Knocking at a door, he opened it and then motioned for Evan to precede him.

When he walked into the room Lorne immediately stiffened, narrowing his eyes as he looked from the suited guy behind the large desk to the only other occupant, his two escorts staying outside in the corridor after closing the door behind him.

It was nothing obvious – the guy wasn't wearing a uniform or a badge but Evan knew as soon as he'd seen him that he was police, or some kind of equivalent.

"Evan Lorne," he introduced himself, stepping forward confidently and holding out his hand to the curator.

"Janssen De Jong," he replied, eyes shooting to the other man.

"We already know who you are Mr Lorne," the man's tone was just bordering on drawling sarcasm and Lorne knew he was in trouble.

"That's ... nice," Evan said, turning to meet his eyes. "Maybe you could return the favour by introducing yourself and telling me what you want from me."

"Rutger Smit ... Inspecteur Rutger Smit," the man replied in slightly accented English. "Korps Landelijke Politiediensten – you would say the National Police Services Agency."

"What can I do for you Inspecteur?" Lorne asked, still puzzled.

"Tell us where the painting is Mr Lorne," Smit said abruptly.

"What painting?" Evan looked from one man to the other, not missing the glance they exchanged.

"The one you stole two days ago," Smit replied.

Authors Note:

Just wanted to acknowedge the audio drama Impressions here - there's a great bit in there where Lorne talks about seeing The Potato Eaters. It's the reason I included that painting in this story. As for his birth date, I took the one listed on his character page on the Stargate wiki - no idea why it was set as July 22 but I decided to go with that rather than use Kavan's birth date.

The latest picture had been added to the Grand Tour Pictures page on my website - link on my profile page if you don't already have it from the other three chapters. Go have a look - it's an amazing piece of art.