Chapter Five

Sheppard was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't even realized he was still holding the tac vest he'd taken from Lorne on his way out of the infirmary. Already at his office, though, he just slung it into a corner. At this point he wasn't even sure who he was pissed off at. He had half a mind to take that planet off their list entirely, if not list them as outright hostile. But that would completely negate what Lorne had accomplished by offering himself up as sacrifice. Which pissed him off all over again. All that he could really consider at this point was the fact that his second in command's back now looked like hamburger steak.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything useful done in here until he either got it out of his system or found something else to focus on, he headed for a sparring room. Hopefully Ronon wasn't too busy to spare a few minutes.

~o~o~o~

Unfortunately Ronon had been banned from sparring rooms for the next twenty-four hours by an irate Beckett. Instead he'd been lucky enough to have Teyla knock him around a bit until he felt more focused. An hour later and feeling much calmer, Sheppard was back in his office awaiting the arrival of the three Lieutenants. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to their initial reports. It didn't take them long to show up, however, all three looking nervous to say the least. He forced himself to grin to dispel some of their obvious worry.

"Relax, guys. I just finished talking to Major Lorne. Apparently he's a bit backed up on some paperwork, and we just got some new policies. He's going to be on desk duty for a couple of weeks. I've temporarily reassigned you to Captain Wiley's team, in the meantime."

"Yes, sir," they chimed.

"He was just promoted, so don't give him too hard a time," Sheppard warned. "Any questions?"

"No, sir," Keane and Cayton replied.

"Colonel, may I speak with you privately?" Shingleton asked.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant."

Sheppard didn't miss the curious looks that passed from Keane to Cayton to Shingleton as he nodded to them. As ever, the three of them had worked together for so long they held entire conversations in such silent glances. Sheppard could only guess what had just passed between them. But he was fairly certain he was about to find out.

"What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"What really happened to Major Lorne? If I may ask."

"You may not. I already explained that he's going to be on desk duty for the next couple of weeks. That's all you need to know."

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

Sheppard leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Obviously Shingleton was sharper than the others, or they had all known, and he was just the one offered up to speak for all of them. But Sheppard didn't really get that feeling. The four of them were a very cohesive team. He couldn't see the other two bailing out on Shingleton about something like this.

"Granted."

"Did Major Lorne…" he paused, seeming to mentally rephrase whatever he was going to ask. "Did he take our lashings, sir?"

Keeping his expression neutral, Sheppard evaded by asking, "Were it your team, Lieutenant, what would you have done?"

Sheppard could see in the man's eyes that he didn't even need to think about it. He nodded right away, never breaking eye contact. Not giving him a chance to verbally respond, though, Sheppard followed with, "You have your orders, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Still leaning back in his chair, Sheppard watched Shingleton as he left. Whatever Lorne's wishes, he couldn't dismiss the man's intelligence. Satisfied he'd done his part, he turned his attention back to the initial reports. It was time to revisit the infirmary for those pictures. He could get Lorne's written report tomorrow, if the man was even up for it.

~o~o~o~

Gently knocking on the door to Lorne's room in the infirmary, Sheppard waited, not entirely surprised to find Beckett still in there. Apparently he was just cleaning up. Lorne was now laid out on the bed on his stomach with one arm under his head. An IV connected to his free arm, Lorne was now wearing scrub pants and little else. Assuming Beckett hadn't had a chance to bandage him up yet, he wondered if Lorne was in any condition to talk.

"Is he awake?"

"You can let him in, Carson," Lorne called, slurring slightly.

Beckett sighed and stepped back, making sure no one else was close enough to see. He closed the door just as quickly. "I was about to get the last picture," he explained.

"Thanks, Doc."

"How did it go, sir?" Lorne asked, not bothering to move as Sheppard stepped around the bed to at least come within visual range.

"Well enough," he replied. "Lieutenant Shingleton knows, though. He's sharp. Figured it out all on his own. He'll make Captain, soon."

Lorne muttered a curse, obviously under the influence of something in addition to the obvious exhaustion. "Sorry, sir," he added a moment later, realizing his slip.

"If that's the best you got under the circumstances, then you are in piss poor shape, Evan," Sheppard replied, trying to lighten the mood. "I've heard better out of grade schoolers."

Lorne chuckled. "I'll try harder, next time."

"Uh huh. Well, the cover is that they're temporarily reassigned to Captain Wiley's team, and you're on desk duty thanks to a backlog of paperwork and some new policies. But I doubt that will hold up with Shingleton. Whether he talks or not, I can't say. He's smart enough to know you don't want it known, though. So…"

"Yeah, I get it," Lorne said with another sigh as Carson took a picture.

"All done, Colonel. I'll go get the prints and be back in a moment."

"Thanks, Doc."

"You want me to put a gag on Shingleton?" Sheppard asked, after Beckett had stepped out.

"Wouldn't do any good, sir. He'd just come up with some clever way of slipping out of it."

Sheppard frowned. "So what do you want to do?"

After a few seconds Lorne took a deep breath and began to force himself upright on arms that only shook slightly now, at least.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Lorne shook his head, but continued until he was sitting upright anyway. "Probably not," he grunted through the pain. "But I can't think when I'm like that."

"I'm surprised you can think at all given what I'm sure Carson pumped you full of."

Lorne shook his head again, blinking away the haziness. "Not really. I'm mostly just tired." Catching sight of Sheppard's brow furrowed in concern, he waved a hand in negation, "Don't worry, John. A little bit of blood loss and about a hundred or so stitches. Carson says I'll be fine in a week or two. Just like you estimated."

Sheppard just gave a grunt, whether it was agreement or disapproval of Lorne's lack of concern for his own well-being was anyone's guess. Before either could say anything, however, Beckett returned with folded paper copies of the before and after pictures. His glare for the Major was almost enough to force him back down into a prone position.

"I was falling asleep, Carson. I need to at least make it to my own bed, unless you intend to keep me hidden in here overnight."

"I was. A few hours at the very least while I get more fluids into you. That was not an insignificant amount of blood loss, Major."

"Fine, Doc. Then I can just sneak out of here quietly for my own bed later…" Lorne said, around a yawn. "…with fewer witnesses. Excuse me."

Carson huffed his disapproval, but allowed the Major to stay upright while applying ointment and bandages to the sutures. That much out of the way, Lorne turned his attention back to the Colonel.

"I'm sorry, John. What were we discussing?"

"Nothing, Evan. Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

Lorne shook his head again, as if trying to recall something. "Sorry, sir."

The fact that Lorne kept shifting between formal and informal was enough to convince Sheppard the man just needed to stay here. Whether his team or anyone else found out was the least of his concerns. What Beckett had said about the blood loss already told Sheppard the Major was trying to play down the whole thing; and Sheppard wasn't fooled. He was already certain that the only thing that kept his friend conscious at the moment was the hope of escape to the privacy of his quarters where he was less likely to be found out. Not that he blamed him. Had it been McKay, Teyla, or Ronon, and he'd done the same, he'd be feeling the same way, too.

Heading out for a late dinner, he decided to sit on this and discuss it with Weir tomorrow.