Marks of Distinction
Title: Marks of Distinction
Fandom: Harry Potter/Stargate Atlantis Crossover
Characters: Evan Lorne, Sirius Black, Jennifer Keller, Stackhouse
Orientation: Slash
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,577
Warnings: None, this is an UN-death!fic
Prompt: for slashing_lorne - Lornefest, Lorne/Sirius Black - The veil sends Sirius to the Pegasus galaxy and people from Atlantis find him.
For the Kinkbingo Fill: “Tattoos/tattooing”
For the HC: Bingo Fill: Unconsciousness
“What is it we’re looking for, sir?” Stackhouse asked as he joined Lorne before the Gate.
“Just another weird power fluctuation to follow up on, the monitoring platform on M87-375 pinged back with something the geeks couldn’t explain.”
“Fun for us. I guess we’re lucky - no weird food to eat or rituals to do this time out.”
“There is that.” Lorne signaled to Chuck to dial her up.
~*~
He woke with the sun beating down on him. He tried to rise, pushing up with both hands against the sand, but he collapsed again as his head exploded in searing pain.
When he woke again, someone was cradling him; pressing a bottle of water to his lips. Opening his eyes brought the pain once again.
“Go easy. Take slow sips. You’ve got yourself in a bad way,” the man holding him said. The man wore a uniform, and had a kind face.
After he took a few tiny sips of the water he asked the obvious question. “Where am I?”
“We call it M87-375; I don’t know that it has a real name. How did you get here, so far from the Gate?”
“Gate? I… I don’t know. I was… I can’t remember!”
He tried to sit up, but the man restrained him. “Don’t try to get up, I have a stretcher coming, since this entire planet is uninhabited, we’re going to take you back to our base and have a doctor check you over, is that okay with you?”
Obeying the sensible suggestion, he nodded and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d been doing in the time before now and how he’d gotten here.
“Excuse me, is this yours? It was in the sand beside you.”
He opened his eyes to see the man holding up a stick as long as his forearm. It was familiar; his hand automatically went up to take it. As he wrapped his palm around it, light flashed and images… memories painfully flooded over him, filling his mind. It was too much to bear. He collapsed against his rescuer.
~*~
When he woke, a friendly blonde woman in a white coat smiled and asked him, “Hello, back with us again? Do you know your name?”
His name? Yes, he did know that. “Black. Sirius Black.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Black, I’m Doctor Keller. You’ve a case of exposure and a bit of exhaustion, I think. Are you hungry?”
He hadn’t been until she mentioned it. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll have a tray brought up for you. Are you feeling up to a visitor?”
“I suppose I am.”
The doctor parted the privacy curtain that surrounded his bed and left. He heard the murmur of voices and a few moments later the man from the desert appeared, smiling warmly.
“Hi, you look a hundred times better.”
“I feel it. Thank you for finding me.”
The soldier held out a hand. “Major Evan Lorne; United States Air Force.”
“My name is Sirius Black. I’m afraid I don’t remember much more than that. My memory seems a bit wonky.”
“It’ll come back in time, I’m sure. The doc said you’d been out in the sun for a day or two, that’ll mess with anyone.”
Sirius nodded.
“I brought your stick.”
Cautiously, he held his hand out, taking the stick… no, it wasn’t a stick, it was a wand. As it crossed his palm, he felt a sense of ‘rightness’ settle over him. He sighed and sat back against the pillow, placing the wand carefully across his lap.
“You’ve some very interesting tattoos; I couldn’t help but notice them when the doc was working on you.”
He glanced at the pattern of knot work on his left forearm, and then stroked a finger across it. As he did, memory came to him, images of the mark being made. He remembered the pinch of the needle; he remembered the heady feeling of power that came with the press of the point and push of the ink under his skin. He mouthed the words that he heard in his memory and shivered with the feeling. It was as if he was there now, as if the witch marking him was standing over him in the here and now. He remembered the press of her body against his afterwards, how she had reveled with him in the flow of magical energies.
With the memory of the making came the purpose of the mark. “Protection. This one was for protection.”
Major Lorne nodded and stepped closer to the bed, looking at the mark Sirius was tracing with his finger. “And that one? I paint, the patterns intrigue me, I apologize for my curiosity.”
“No offense taken, Major. The marks seem to be helping me remember.”
He touched two fingers to the tattoo on back of his right hand, a small silhouette of a howling wolf. More images. Again, the flush of power and sexual heat washed over him. Pressing his fingers down on the mark, he whispered the words of incantation that had gone into its making. “Self. This one represents myself.”
Fascinated by his self-discovery, he tugged the v-neck collar of the hospital shirt he wore aside. The pattern near his collarbone was the largest yet. Half a ring, stylized lines, it wasn’t a recognizable shape. He pressed his palm to it and bucked off the bed as the most powerful images came one upon another. This mark had been made at different times and he saw each layer of the making, remembered each spell, felt again each joining of celebration. No, he didn’t just remember this spell, he remembered EVERY spell. He writhed on the bed as he was swamped with memories, as all the accumulated knowledge of his life flowed over him at once.
~*~
Lorne hadn’t lied; he’d been drawn to the man’s tattoos. He appreciated good ink work when he saw it. The man under the ink wasn’t hard on the eyes either. The old fashioned goatee and long hair were quaint, but they looked good on the guy. When he suddenly went stiff and jerked up off the bed, Evan ran over to grasp his shoulders and tried to push him back down onto the mattress.
“Doctor Keller! He’s having a seizure or something!”
By the time Keller got to the bedside, Black had flopped back and lay with his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The doctor shone a penlight into his eyes, then shook her head, he was unconscious again.
Startling Keller, the man suddenly blinked, shook his head and then tried to sit up.
“What happened?” Evan barked, looking from doctor to patient.
“I remembered,” Black whispered, and then repeated it with more strength. “I remembered.”
“Remembered what? How you got where you were?”
Black nodded. “Among other things, I was thrown through the veil.”
“Veil? You mean the Gate, through a wormhole?”
“If that is what you call it. I was in one place, and now I am in another.”
With each passing moment, the man in the bed was looking more confident, more self assured, more in control. It was fascinating to Evan to watch the transformation. “Where are you from? Perhaps we could help you get home?”
“I am not certain of that,” their guest replied, and somehow Evan knew he was being vague and mildly evasive with the offhanded comment.
~*~
Knowledge. The last tattoo had represented the sum of Sirius’ knowledge. Protection, self, knowledge; the wards had protected him, had kept him whole, and apparently kept him mostly sane as he passed through the veil. He should, by all rights, be dead; a shade of himself lost forever within the realm beyond the veil. But he was not.
Sirius stroked his fingers over another glyph on his chest; health. He flushed with heat at the memory of THAT particular marking session. There had been two lovely nubile wizards that had done the warding that day. It had been a very memorable evening and Sirius was so very glad he hadn’t forgotten any of it. It was a treasured memory. As he muttered a spell under his breath, he felt power flood him, this place he had found himself stranded in was a conduit for power of a kind he had never encountered before.
The tattoos had been a throwback to the old days, before wands were the accepted focus for spelling. Not many wizards marked themselves as Sirius had done. It seemed his tactile predilection had served him well and saved his life.
He looked at the muggles staring at him with concern in their eyes. He smiled in reassurance. This place might be a bit magical, but the inhabitants he had met so far were muggles. This was likely a muggle holding, if the handsome Major from the United States was an indication.
Sirius could work with this. He had been given another chance. He would wait and listen and learn and plan. When the time was right, he would return home and finish the task he had left undone. He couldn’t remember the details of what that task was; he only felt an imperative to finish something. Until he could remember, he thought it best not to mention that he needed to return to London as soon as possible, or his nature as a wizard. Doing so might raise questions he did not yet have the answers to.
He would bide his time and make the best of it.
Fandom: Harry Potter/Stargate Atlantis Crossover
Characters: Evan Lorne, Sirius Black, Jennifer Keller, Stackhouse
Orientation: Slash
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,577
Warnings: None, this is an UN-death!fic
Prompt: for slashing_lorne - Lornefest, Lorne/Sirius Black - The veil sends Sirius to the Pegasus galaxy and people from Atlantis find him.
For the Kinkbingo Fill: “Tattoos/tattooing”
For the HC: Bingo Fill: Unconsciousness
“What is it we’re looking for, sir?” Stackhouse asked as he joined Lorne before the Gate.
“Just another weird power fluctuation to follow up on, the monitoring platform on M87-375 pinged back with something the geeks couldn’t explain.”
“Fun for us. I guess we’re lucky - no weird food to eat or rituals to do this time out.”
“There is that.” Lorne signaled to Chuck to dial her up.
~*~
He woke with the sun beating down on him. He tried to rise, pushing up with both hands against the sand, but he collapsed again as his head exploded in searing pain.
When he woke again, someone was cradling him; pressing a bottle of water to his lips. Opening his eyes brought the pain once again.
“Go easy. Take slow sips. You’ve got yourself in a bad way,” the man holding him said. The man wore a uniform, and had a kind face.
After he took a few tiny sips of the water he asked the obvious question. “Where am I?”
“We call it M87-375; I don’t know that it has a real name. How did you get here, so far from the Gate?”
“Gate? I… I don’t know. I was… I can’t remember!”
He tried to sit up, but the man restrained him. “Don’t try to get up, I have a stretcher coming, since this entire planet is uninhabited, we’re going to take you back to our base and have a doctor check you over, is that okay with you?”
Obeying the sensible suggestion, he nodded and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d been doing in the time before now and how he’d gotten here.
“Excuse me, is this yours? It was in the sand beside you.”
He opened his eyes to see the man holding up a stick as long as his forearm. It was familiar; his hand automatically went up to take it. As he wrapped his palm around it, light flashed and images… memories painfully flooded over him, filling his mind. It was too much to bear. He collapsed against his rescuer.
~*~
When he woke, a friendly blonde woman in a white coat smiled and asked him, “Hello, back with us again? Do you know your name?”
His name? Yes, he did know that. “Black. Sirius Black.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Black, I’m Doctor Keller. You’ve a case of exposure and a bit of exhaustion, I think. Are you hungry?”
He hadn’t been until she mentioned it. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll have a tray brought up for you. Are you feeling up to a visitor?”
“I suppose I am.”
The doctor parted the privacy curtain that surrounded his bed and left. He heard the murmur of voices and a few moments later the man from the desert appeared, smiling warmly.
“Hi, you look a hundred times better.”
“I feel it. Thank you for finding me.”
The soldier held out a hand. “Major Evan Lorne; United States Air Force.”
“My name is Sirius Black. I’m afraid I don’t remember much more than that. My memory seems a bit wonky.”
“It’ll come back in time, I’m sure. The doc said you’d been out in the sun for a day or two, that’ll mess with anyone.”
Sirius nodded.
“I brought your stick.”
Cautiously, he held his hand out, taking the stick… no, it wasn’t a stick, it was a wand. As it crossed his palm, he felt a sense of ‘rightness’ settle over him. He sighed and sat back against the pillow, placing the wand carefully across his lap.
“You’ve some very interesting tattoos; I couldn’t help but notice them when the doc was working on you.”
He glanced at the pattern of knot work on his left forearm, and then stroked a finger across it. As he did, memory came to him, images of the mark being made. He remembered the pinch of the needle; he remembered the heady feeling of power that came with the press of the point and push of the ink under his skin. He mouthed the words that he heard in his memory and shivered with the feeling. It was as if he was there now, as if the witch marking him was standing over him in the here and now. He remembered the press of her body against his afterwards, how she had reveled with him in the flow of magical energies.
With the memory of the making came the purpose of the mark. “Protection. This one was for protection.”
Major Lorne nodded and stepped closer to the bed, looking at the mark Sirius was tracing with his finger. “And that one? I paint, the patterns intrigue me, I apologize for my curiosity.”
“No offense taken, Major. The marks seem to be helping me remember.”
He touched two fingers to the tattoo on back of his right hand, a small silhouette of a howling wolf. More images. Again, the flush of power and sexual heat washed over him. Pressing his fingers down on the mark, he whispered the words of incantation that had gone into its making. “Self. This one represents myself.”
Fascinated by his self-discovery, he tugged the v-neck collar of the hospital shirt he wore aside. The pattern near his collarbone was the largest yet. Half a ring, stylized lines, it wasn’t a recognizable shape. He pressed his palm to it and bucked off the bed as the most powerful images came one upon another. This mark had been made at different times and he saw each layer of the making, remembered each spell, felt again each joining of celebration. No, he didn’t just remember this spell, he remembered EVERY spell. He writhed on the bed as he was swamped with memories, as all the accumulated knowledge of his life flowed over him at once.
~*~
Lorne hadn’t lied; he’d been drawn to the man’s tattoos. He appreciated good ink work when he saw it. The man under the ink wasn’t hard on the eyes either. The old fashioned goatee and long hair were quaint, but they looked good on the guy. When he suddenly went stiff and jerked up off the bed, Evan ran over to grasp his shoulders and tried to push him back down onto the mattress.
“Doctor Keller! He’s having a seizure or something!”
By the time Keller got to the bedside, Black had flopped back and lay with his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The doctor shone a penlight into his eyes, then shook her head, he was unconscious again.
Startling Keller, the man suddenly blinked, shook his head and then tried to sit up.
“What happened?” Evan barked, looking from doctor to patient.
“I remembered,” Black whispered, and then repeated it with more strength. “I remembered.”
“Remembered what? How you got where you were?”
Black nodded. “Among other things, I was thrown through the veil.”
“Veil? You mean the Gate, through a wormhole?”
“If that is what you call it. I was in one place, and now I am in another.”
With each passing moment, the man in the bed was looking more confident, more self assured, more in control. It was fascinating to Evan to watch the transformation. “Where are you from? Perhaps we could help you get home?”
“I am not certain of that,” their guest replied, and somehow Evan knew he was being vague and mildly evasive with the offhanded comment.
~*~
Knowledge. The last tattoo had represented the sum of Sirius’ knowledge. Protection, self, knowledge; the wards had protected him, had kept him whole, and apparently kept him mostly sane as he passed through the veil. He should, by all rights, be dead; a shade of himself lost forever within the realm beyond the veil. But he was not.
Sirius stroked his fingers over another glyph on his chest; health. He flushed with heat at the memory of THAT particular marking session. There had been two lovely nubile wizards that had done the warding that day. It had been a very memorable evening and Sirius was so very glad he hadn’t forgotten any of it. It was a treasured memory. As he muttered a spell under his breath, he felt power flood him, this place he had found himself stranded in was a conduit for power of a kind he had never encountered before.
The tattoos had been a throwback to the old days, before wands were the accepted focus for spelling. Not many wizards marked themselves as Sirius had done. It seemed his tactile predilection had served him well and saved his life.
He looked at the muggles staring at him with concern in their eyes. He smiled in reassurance. This place might be a bit magical, but the inhabitants he had met so far were muggles. This was likely a muggle holding, if the handsome Major from the United States was an indication.
Sirius could work with this. He had been given another chance. He would wait and listen and learn and plan. When the time was right, he would return home and finish the task he had left undone. He couldn’t remember the details of what that task was; he only felt an imperative to finish something. Until he could remember, he thought it best not to mention that he needed to return to London as soon as possible, or his nature as a wizard. Doing so might raise questions he did not yet have the answers to.
He would bide his time and make the best of it.