Fic: Puzzling Evidence (Part XXXIII), NC-17, Lorne/Zelenka by inkscribe
Title: Puzzling Evidence (Part XXXIII)
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Lorne/Zelenka
Kink: mild D/s, bondage, spanking
Warnings: none
Promises: No pre-Sunday canon characters are permanently harmed in the making of this fic. EVER.
Angst-o-meter: giga-angst (very strong)
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2100 (this part)
Spoilers: none (this part)
Locations: atlantiskink, malesofatlantis, welovezelenka, slashing_lorne, sgaauwtptbdfu, notmcshep, my LJ
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: What we see is not always what it seems.
Chapter Summary: Tension.
New to this WIP? Check out the Puzzling Evidence chapter index! Please remember to read the header block of each chapter for related spoiler alerts, warnings, and notes.
Author's Notes: It’s been terribly close to a year since I’ve been able to post in this story. Thank you to the many and several who have dropped me a poke or a nudge on this story over the last several months. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long. The story still remains complete in my head, and this chapter brings us one step closer to that conclusion!
Thank-you as always to my beta mice1900 for his kindness (giving me his time) and willingness to arse-kick (mine).
I should also mention that Puzzling Evidence is an AU (see Promises, above).
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Marc and Carson had watched with growing concern as Radek worked frantically at trying to release them from their impromptu prison, relieved when he finally left with Keras. They knew he would be back again soon, though they were both quietly pleased when other villagers remained behind.
“He’s a good man,” Carson said quietly, and Marc could only nod in agreement. So many hours had passed, yet they had said almost nothing to each other after those first frantic minutes, both silent and impotent.
Slouched against the facility wall, Marc sighed. They had time now, they had privacy. Perhaps now would be a good time to …
“Carson?” Marc asked, before he could lose his nerve.
“Yes?”
“That … thing you do,” he trailed off, waving his hand in a vague way, hoping Carson would get the drift. “If it’s so dangerous, why do you do it?” He stared into the room, not wanting to invade Carson’s privacy further by staring at him when they were in such close confinement, but he genuinely wanted to know.
He heard Carson release a long breath of air, a slow sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Marc apologised. “I shouldn’t have -”
“Nae, lad,” Carson said. “The question isn’t a problem. It’s just not an easy question to answer.”
“Well, I think we’ve got time for the long explanation,” Marc offered wryly. He was pleased to hear Carson chuckle in response.
“Aye, that’s true enough. Well, I suppose then I should start at the beginning,” Carson said, as Marc settled down to try to relax and concentrate on something other than their current predicament.
oOo
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling of her quarters, willing herself to relax and not toss and turn on the small bed. She’d suffered from a nagging headache now for days, and each time someone sidestepped her authority, she could swear her blood pressure rose appreciably. Maybe I should see Carson, she started to think, then remembered that of course, Carson was offworld, and due to an unspecified problem, might be a long time in returning home.
For all that she was the expedition leader, she knew full well that the city only ran as well as it did because the people in her command could be trusted to use their heads, to do the right thing. Yet over and over again people hadn’t been using their heads, hadn’t been doing the right thing. Rodney, John - their hearts were in the right place but their good sense was completely gone. And John wants to resign, she thought sadly. She wondered if she’d missed something important there - if he had kept something from her, from everyone. He was good at deflecting people from himself: in their years together at Atlantis, she still hardly knew anything about him beyond what he showed everyone, and what he showed was a very focused, tiny side of himself.
Frowning slightly, she thought back to his actions over the last few weeks. As far as she could determine, his well-meant ‘intervention’ in Marc and Radek’s personal life seemed to be the beginning. Then Carson’s attempted suicide - that had left everyone shaken, even Rodney. But somehow, where things slowly seemed to be coming together again for everyone else, John was becoming less able to cope, less able to function.
She didn’t know if she could cope with losing John. His skills, his creativity, were part of what had kept them all alive that first year. Rodney’s too, of course - but John was no less important. Elizabeth wasn’t stupid: she knew that if John left, or worse yet, was killed, there would be others in the chain of command to step in, but frankly, other than Major Lorne, she didn’t see too many that struck her as having the ... the flexibility ... that military command in Atlantis demanded.
She sighed again. Marc’s situation wasn’t resolved and with him being both an American citizen and an American Air Force officer, she didn’t see any way out. She blinked, her eyes going wide before she sat up suddenly. Her head throbbed at the sudden motion, and she reached for a painkiller.
Time to change the situation, she thought grimly. Doing things the same way over and over again wasn’t going to work anymore - she would have to find a new way, and she didn’t have any time to lose.
oOo
John lifted his sticks again to defend himself, and again found himself gasping in pain on the floor, Teyla holding him at her mercy.
Teyla lifted an eyebrow. “Are you feeling any better?”
John feigned ignorance. “Better? I’m fine,” he protested. “Well, except for the bruises growing on top of my bruises.” He wouldn’t be walking straight anytime soon.
Teyla rolled her eyes at him and stepped back, allowing him to stand. “John,” she said. “Any time you would like to talk about it, I am here.”
John’s eyes slid away. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell anyone. He hadn’t even told himself, not yet.
“Uh, thanks,” John finally mumbled. He risked a glance at Teyla’s face, wincing when he saw the worry in her eyes. “Really. I appreciate it.”
When he didn’t continue, she simply nodded, then raised her sticks again, waiting for him to begin anew.
oOo
Radek ran his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time that hour.
Rodney yelped, the small buzz of a short and the smell of burnt flesh clear to Radek’s senses. He heard Rodney renew his almost incessant mutterings against the Ancients.
Radek managed to smile. It is like old times.
If Radek didn’t look to where Marc and Carson huddled against the wall, he could pretend Rodney and he were just doing a typical fix-it-or-suffer-imminent-death project around Atlantis. The constant demands and curses were almost a balm to Radek’s soul, certainly a balm to his ears.
It was like the Americans said: situation normal, all fucked up. If ever there was a snafu, Kidkill’s control room was it.
The villagers came and went, only Keras stayed with them constantly. They had food and warm tea. They had wraps to keep their bodies warm as they crouched or reclined on the control room floor, working methodically at the console.
Time was still of the essence, but the obvious, frantic mania that had gripped Radek those first few hours had been replaced by the slow and steady.
I did not really help them. Radek knew that now. In his panic, he had tried many things that hadn’t worked, yet because of that same panic, he wasn’t able to tell Rodney what he had tried. Not clearly.
Rodney hadn’t ranted or yelled at Radek, though. Instead, he saved his vitriol for the Ancients.
“Thank you,” Radek had whispered at one point, and Rodney had just looked at him for a moment before smiling, almost shy, then returning to his work without a word.
Radek was grateful the man hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Too much had happened, and they would never really have the words for discussing any of it. Their actions spoke for them - Radek passing Rodney tools and both of them cursing the Ancients, usually in more than one language.
If they weren’t on a literal deadline, Radek would say he almost felt like he was better, good even. The thought made him risk a glance again to Marc and Carson. They were dozing now, curled close together behind the ridiculously small space defined by the energy field.
Radek wanted to crawl into Marc’s arms and just ... breathe. Just to be able to touch again, to speak again.
He tore his attention away, hearing another buzz and another curse from within the console. Time was running out and Radek wouldn’t get them out any quicker by daydreaming.
oOo
Morning in Atlantis, and Fields had just taken his station when Colonel Caldwell arrived on the gateroom floor, the bright light of an Asgard beam their only warning. He was accompanied by two armed marines that Fields didn’t recognise.
“Step away from that console, sergeant” he heard Caldwell bark. Fields jumped slightly, startled by the sudden shout, then looked again at the colonel. He realised the man was speaking to him, and his stomach knotted.
“Now!” Caldwell demanded, his marines rushing the steps towards the console, their weapons ready. Fields lifted his hands and backed slowly away.
“What’s going on, colonel?” the voice came from directly behind Fields. The drawl of his own military commander was easy and relaxed. Fields gulped. He knew that voice, and it was anything but relaxed at those times. When Sheppard spoke like that, death was in the air.
Caldwell reached the control console, standing in front of Fields but glaring past him. Fields couldn’t see Sheppard, but felt he was close, almost close enough to touch. He could hear Sheppard’s breathing, steady and deep. Just like when the colonel was hunting down the enemy. Just like when he was preparing to kill or be killed.
Oh shit, Fields thought. He was stuck between two armed parties, and they weren’t going to stand down. Nothing good is going to come out of this.
“I’m taking this technician into custody,” Caldwell snapped, hardly sparing Fields a glance.
“I don’t think so,” came Sheppard’s response, still smooth and easy.
“I don’t care what you think, colonel,” Caldwell spat. “He’s under investigation for treason, and we’re taking him now.”
Fields hadn’t had time to process that statement when he heard Sheppard snort in laughter.
“Treason?”
“You heard me,” Caldwell snapped.
Fields felt his left arm suddenly grabbed, and he turned, looking into the face of his assailant. Sheppard! The colonel’s eyes remained on Caldwell, though, and Fields watched in amazement as Sheppard snarled, “Miss the armpatch, Caldwell? Chuck here is Canadian. Even if he’s been trying to sell the Canadarm to the SGC without his government’s permission, that wouldn’t put him under American authority for treason.”
Fields remained frozen in place, his hands raised, his one arm held by Sheppard.
“Stand down, colonel,” Caldwell barked.
“You have no authority here,” Sheppard growled. “Have your men stand down.”
“No,” Caldwell shouted. “He’s coming with me.”
Fields stared at Sheppard. We’re going to die, he thought. They’d survived so much and now some idiot with a spaceship was going to off them in their own control room. Sheppard’s gaze never wavered from Caldwell, but Fields felt a subtle pressure now on his arm, a couple of squeezes, a rest. Another couple of squeezes. The slightest sensation of tugging.
Fields realised he was being given instructions on where to move, at Sheppard’s signal. Oh God, he thought. This really is that bad.
Another sound reached Fields’ ears, the sound of Ronon’s gun, charged and ready to go.
“He told you to stand down, Caldwell, and I’m telling you, too,” came Doctor Weir’s voice. Fields hadn’t heard her arrive. “You can obey those orders, or your men can be stunned into compliance.”
The room seemed suddenly silent, everyone frozen in place as though one false move would snap everything into chaos. Fields could only stare into Sheppard’s face. He knew Sheppard’s reputation for caring for his people, but he never assumed it applied to him - military, sure, but Canadian and not even working out in the field. It might be an international expedition, but the military contingent spent a lot of its time working offworld on various missions. Chuck’s small group of technicians were among the few who spent most, if not all, of their on-duty time in the city, under Doctor Weir’s direct command.
The moment stretched.
“What’s it going to be, Caldwell?” Weir asked, her voice icy, authoritative.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Caldwell spat.
That was the false move. Fields felt the tug on his arm even as he fell to the floor at Sheppard’s feet. He heard the shing-shing of Ronon’s blaster, he heard the thump and clatter of the two armed marines as they hit the floor. Then he looked up, seeing Sheppard towering above him, firearm pointed determinedly toward Caldwell’s position.
Sheppard’s arm never flinched. His voice was steady as he said, “Now, Caldwell, before you’re taken into custody yourself, you’re going to explain a few things.”
End Part XXXIII
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Lorne/Zelenka
Kink: mild D/s, bondage, spanking
Warnings: none
Promises: No pre-Sunday canon characters are permanently harmed in the making of this fic. EVER.
Angst-o-meter: giga-angst (very strong)
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2100 (this part)
Spoilers: none (this part)
Locations: atlantiskink, malesofatlantis, welovezelenka, slashing_lorne, sgaauwtptbdfu, notmcshep, my LJ
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: What we see is not always what it seems.
Chapter Summary: Tension.
New to this WIP? Check out the Puzzling Evidence chapter index! Please remember to read the header block of each chapter for related spoiler alerts, warnings, and notes.
Author's Notes: It’s been terribly close to a year since I’ve been able to post in this story. Thank you to the many and several who have dropped me a poke or a nudge on this story over the last several months. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long. The story still remains complete in my head, and this chapter brings us one step closer to that conclusion!
Thank-you as always to my beta mice1900 for his kindness (giving me his time) and willingness to arse-kick (mine).
I should also mention that Puzzling Evidence is an AU (see Promises, above).
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Marc and Carson had watched with growing concern as Radek worked frantically at trying to release them from their impromptu prison, relieved when he finally left with Keras. They knew he would be back again soon, though they were both quietly pleased when other villagers remained behind.
“He’s a good man,” Carson said quietly, and Marc could only nod in agreement. So many hours had passed, yet they had said almost nothing to each other after those first frantic minutes, both silent and impotent.
Slouched against the facility wall, Marc sighed. They had time now, they had privacy. Perhaps now would be a good time to …
“Carson?” Marc asked, before he could lose his nerve.
“Yes?”
“That … thing you do,” he trailed off, waving his hand in a vague way, hoping Carson would get the drift. “If it’s so dangerous, why do you do it?” He stared into the room, not wanting to invade Carson’s privacy further by staring at him when they were in such close confinement, but he genuinely wanted to know.
He heard Carson release a long breath of air, a slow sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Marc apologised. “I shouldn’t have -”
“Nae, lad,” Carson said. “The question isn’t a problem. It’s just not an easy question to answer.”
“Well, I think we’ve got time for the long explanation,” Marc offered wryly. He was pleased to hear Carson chuckle in response.
“Aye, that’s true enough. Well, I suppose then I should start at the beginning,” Carson said, as Marc settled down to try to relax and concentrate on something other than their current predicament.
oOo
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling of her quarters, willing herself to relax and not toss and turn on the small bed. She’d suffered from a nagging headache now for days, and each time someone sidestepped her authority, she could swear her blood pressure rose appreciably. Maybe I should see Carson, she started to think, then remembered that of course, Carson was offworld, and due to an unspecified problem, might be a long time in returning home.
For all that she was the expedition leader, she knew full well that the city only ran as well as it did because the people in her command could be trusted to use their heads, to do the right thing. Yet over and over again people hadn’t been using their heads, hadn’t been doing the right thing. Rodney, John - their hearts were in the right place but their good sense was completely gone. And John wants to resign, she thought sadly. She wondered if she’d missed something important there - if he had kept something from her, from everyone. He was good at deflecting people from himself: in their years together at Atlantis, she still hardly knew anything about him beyond what he showed everyone, and what he showed was a very focused, tiny side of himself.
Frowning slightly, she thought back to his actions over the last few weeks. As far as she could determine, his well-meant ‘intervention’ in Marc and Radek’s personal life seemed to be the beginning. Then Carson’s attempted suicide - that had left everyone shaken, even Rodney. But somehow, where things slowly seemed to be coming together again for everyone else, John was becoming less able to cope, less able to function.
She didn’t know if she could cope with losing John. His skills, his creativity, were part of what had kept them all alive that first year. Rodney’s too, of course - but John was no less important. Elizabeth wasn’t stupid: she knew that if John left, or worse yet, was killed, there would be others in the chain of command to step in, but frankly, other than Major Lorne, she didn’t see too many that struck her as having the ... the flexibility ... that military command in Atlantis demanded.
She sighed again. Marc’s situation wasn’t resolved and with him being both an American citizen and an American Air Force officer, she didn’t see any way out. She blinked, her eyes going wide before she sat up suddenly. Her head throbbed at the sudden motion, and she reached for a painkiller.
Time to change the situation, she thought grimly. Doing things the same way over and over again wasn’t going to work anymore - she would have to find a new way, and she didn’t have any time to lose.
oOo
John lifted his sticks again to defend himself, and again found himself gasping in pain on the floor, Teyla holding him at her mercy.
Teyla lifted an eyebrow. “Are you feeling any better?”
John feigned ignorance. “Better? I’m fine,” he protested. “Well, except for the bruises growing on top of my bruises.” He wouldn’t be walking straight anytime soon.
Teyla rolled her eyes at him and stepped back, allowing him to stand. “John,” she said. “Any time you would like to talk about it, I am here.”
John’s eyes slid away. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell anyone. He hadn’t even told himself, not yet.
“Uh, thanks,” John finally mumbled. He risked a glance at Teyla’s face, wincing when he saw the worry in her eyes. “Really. I appreciate it.”
When he didn’t continue, she simply nodded, then raised her sticks again, waiting for him to begin anew.
oOo
Radek ran his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time that hour.
Rodney yelped, the small buzz of a short and the smell of burnt flesh clear to Radek’s senses. He heard Rodney renew his almost incessant mutterings against the Ancients.
Radek managed to smile. It is like old times.
If Radek didn’t look to where Marc and Carson huddled against the wall, he could pretend Rodney and he were just doing a typical fix-it-or-suffer-imminent-death project around Atlantis. The constant demands and curses were almost a balm to Radek’s soul, certainly a balm to his ears.
It was like the Americans said: situation normal, all fucked up. If ever there was a snafu, Kidkill’s control room was it.
The villagers came and went, only Keras stayed with them constantly. They had food and warm tea. They had wraps to keep their bodies warm as they crouched or reclined on the control room floor, working methodically at the console.
Time was still of the essence, but the obvious, frantic mania that had gripped Radek those first few hours had been replaced by the slow and steady.
I did not really help them. Radek knew that now. In his panic, he had tried many things that hadn’t worked, yet because of that same panic, he wasn’t able to tell Rodney what he had tried. Not clearly.
Rodney hadn’t ranted or yelled at Radek, though. Instead, he saved his vitriol for the Ancients.
“Thank you,” Radek had whispered at one point, and Rodney had just looked at him for a moment before smiling, almost shy, then returning to his work without a word.
Radek was grateful the man hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Too much had happened, and they would never really have the words for discussing any of it. Their actions spoke for them - Radek passing Rodney tools and both of them cursing the Ancients, usually in more than one language.
If they weren’t on a literal deadline, Radek would say he almost felt like he was better, good even. The thought made him risk a glance again to Marc and Carson. They were dozing now, curled close together behind the ridiculously small space defined by the energy field.
Radek wanted to crawl into Marc’s arms and just ... breathe. Just to be able to touch again, to speak again.
He tore his attention away, hearing another buzz and another curse from within the console. Time was running out and Radek wouldn’t get them out any quicker by daydreaming.
oOo
Morning in Atlantis, and Fields had just taken his station when Colonel Caldwell arrived on the gateroom floor, the bright light of an Asgard beam their only warning. He was accompanied by two armed marines that Fields didn’t recognise.
“Step away from that console, sergeant” he heard Caldwell bark. Fields jumped slightly, startled by the sudden shout, then looked again at the colonel. He realised the man was speaking to him, and his stomach knotted.
“Now!” Caldwell demanded, his marines rushing the steps towards the console, their weapons ready. Fields lifted his hands and backed slowly away.
“What’s going on, colonel?” the voice came from directly behind Fields. The drawl of his own military commander was easy and relaxed. Fields gulped. He knew that voice, and it was anything but relaxed at those times. When Sheppard spoke like that, death was in the air.
Caldwell reached the control console, standing in front of Fields but glaring past him. Fields couldn’t see Sheppard, but felt he was close, almost close enough to touch. He could hear Sheppard’s breathing, steady and deep. Just like when the colonel was hunting down the enemy. Just like when he was preparing to kill or be killed.
Oh shit, Fields thought. He was stuck between two armed parties, and they weren’t going to stand down. Nothing good is going to come out of this.
“I’m taking this technician into custody,” Caldwell snapped, hardly sparing Fields a glance.
“I don’t think so,” came Sheppard’s response, still smooth and easy.
“I don’t care what you think, colonel,” Caldwell spat. “He’s under investigation for treason, and we’re taking him now.”
Fields hadn’t had time to process that statement when he heard Sheppard snort in laughter.
“Treason?”
“You heard me,” Caldwell snapped.
Fields felt his left arm suddenly grabbed, and he turned, looking into the face of his assailant. Sheppard! The colonel’s eyes remained on Caldwell, though, and Fields watched in amazement as Sheppard snarled, “Miss the armpatch, Caldwell? Chuck here is Canadian. Even if he’s been trying to sell the Canadarm to the SGC without his government’s permission, that wouldn’t put him under American authority for treason.”
Fields remained frozen in place, his hands raised, his one arm held by Sheppard.
“Stand down, colonel,” Caldwell barked.
“You have no authority here,” Sheppard growled. “Have your men stand down.”
“No,” Caldwell shouted. “He’s coming with me.”
Fields stared at Sheppard. We’re going to die, he thought. They’d survived so much and now some idiot with a spaceship was going to off them in their own control room. Sheppard’s gaze never wavered from Caldwell, but Fields felt a subtle pressure now on his arm, a couple of squeezes, a rest. Another couple of squeezes. The slightest sensation of tugging.
Fields realised he was being given instructions on where to move, at Sheppard’s signal. Oh God, he thought. This really is that bad.
Another sound reached Fields’ ears, the sound of Ronon’s gun, charged and ready to go.
“He told you to stand down, Caldwell, and I’m telling you, too,” came Doctor Weir’s voice. Fields hadn’t heard her arrive. “You can obey those orders, or your men can be stunned into compliance.”
The room seemed suddenly silent, everyone frozen in place as though one false move would snap everything into chaos. Fields could only stare into Sheppard’s face. He knew Sheppard’s reputation for caring for his people, but he never assumed it applied to him - military, sure, but Canadian and not even working out in the field. It might be an international expedition, but the military contingent spent a lot of its time working offworld on various missions. Chuck’s small group of technicians were among the few who spent most, if not all, of their on-duty time in the city, under Doctor Weir’s direct command.
The moment stretched.
“What’s it going to be, Caldwell?” Weir asked, her voice icy, authoritative.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Caldwell spat.
That was the false move. Fields felt the tug on his arm even as he fell to the floor at Sheppard’s feet. He heard the shing-shing of Ronon’s blaster, he heard the thump and clatter of the two armed marines as they hit the floor. Then he looked up, seeing Sheppard towering above him, firearm pointed determinedly toward Caldwell’s position.
Sheppard’s arm never flinched. His voice was steady as he said, “Now, Caldwell, before you’re taken into custody yourself, you’re going to explain a few things.”
End Part XXXIII