Fic: Memories Remain (SGA, Lorne/Ronon, PG)
Title: Memories Remain
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1609
Pairing: Ronon/Lorne, pre-slash
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine.
Summary: After Lorne loses a team member, Ronon reaches out to him.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "grief" and it answers the Lorne Fest prompt, “writing those letters home breaks Lorne’s heart.” A special thanks to zillah975, who talked me down from the ledge during the writing of this story.
The laptop was mocking him. He was sure of it.
After thirty-nine minutes of staring at that damn screen, all he’d been able to come up with is a few vacant words of lackluster sentiment.
“Fuck it,” Evan muttered to himself. He highlighted the whole mess and hit the delete key a little harder than necessary. It made him feel a little better, but now he was back to a blank screen and a blinking cursor.
Colonel Sheppard was already writing a letter home to Jacob Moore’s folks, but Evan had been his team leader. He needed to do this one last thing for Jake.
Writing letters home to parents was Evan’s least favorite part of the job. No matter how many platitudes he launched into, no matter what language he used, it was never enough, and it never seemed to make a difference. He was certain such letters provided little comfort to a family that was burying its son or daughter.
It certainly brought little comfort to Evan. After the words were typed and printed out on fancy watermarked paper, his man was still dead, and Evan still felt a dull pain in his gut. It was part of the job, and he knew that. But during his career, he’d seen more young men and women die than he ever thought he would.
With a groan, he discarded the laptop on the desk in front of him. He needed to get out of his office for a while-stretch his legs, clear his mind. His shift was long over anyway, and if he had any sense, he’d be curled up in bed sleeping off the stress of the past few days.
Evan had long been a night owl, though. Carson gave him a talking to about his lack of sleep at least once a week, but the unpredictability of his schedule coupled with lifelong insomnia meant that most nights, he was up while others slept. Since he had arrived on Atlantis, Evan had developed a routine of sleeping in patches. He often spent the wee hours of the morning roaming the city as he shook off the day.
He’d learned early on that he had company on those quiet nights-Atlantis was a magnet for insomniacs it seemed. If he wandered toward the dining area or into the labs, he could usually find McKay or Zelenka, puttering away on some project. And if he strolled to the little corner of the city where he liked to do a lot of his painting, he could usually find Ronon staring out at the night sky.
Over the past few weeks, Evan had learned to appreciate Ronon’s nighttime companionship. They didn’t always talk much-sometimes, they just greeted each other and silently enjoyed the gentle calm of the wee hours together. At other times, they chatted a bit just to pass the time.
Evan wasn’t sure what he needed tonight-conversation or silence. But his stroll through the city led him to the balcony where he knew he’d find Ronon. Evan passed through the doorway into the night air, and sure enough, Ronon was in the usual spot, leaning forward, both arms perched on the railing and his eyes fixed off in the distance.
As Evan slid up next to him, Ronon turned and nodded. “Hey,” he said. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting me?”
“You’re usually here at the same time as me.”
“True,” Evan said. He stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Sitting at his desk for the last couple of hours had wreaked more havoc on his body than running through some alien forest being chased by the Wraith.
Ronon gazed at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the night sky. “We gonna spar this week?”
“Yeah,” Evan said. “I want to. How about Tuesday-if we’re both in the city?”
Evan usually sparred with Ronon once a week. Despite his size, Evan was actually pretty damn good in a fight. Ronon and Teyla both said he was a natural, and he liked that Ronon never took it easy on him. He always challenged him to push beyond his limits.
“I should be around.” Ronon said. “McKay’s going Earthside for that conference thing, and Teyla took Torren to her village.”
“That’s right. I forgot about that.” Evan rubbed his hands over his face. “Jake was supposed to head home this on leave this week, too.”
Ronon scooted a little closer to Evan and nudged him with his elbow. “I’m sorry about Jake,” he said. “He was a good guy.”
“Yeah.” Evan closed his eyes as a soft breeze swept over his skin. It was a little cooler out tonight than it had been in weeks, and Evan was grateful for that small relief. “I’m trying to write a letter home to Jake’s folks,” he said.
Ronon nodded. “How’s that going?”
“Great,” Evan deadpanned. “I don’t know. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Go get some sleep. The letter can wait until tomorrow.”
Evan shook his head. “I’m not that kind of tired,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. But there are times when I feel like hanging up the dress blues and going off somewhere to paint sunsets.”
Jake certainly wasn’t the first man Evan had lost, and he wouldn’t be the last. And his death hadn’t been particularly dramatic-he’d simply gone down in a surprise Wraith attack like dozens of officers before him. Still, it was another name to be etched into Evan’s memory. Another loss. And it was wearing him out.
Ronon put a hand on Evan’s shoulder and squeezed. “He thought a lot of you, you know.”
Evan felt himself tense up at Ronon’s touch. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the comfort, but part of him wanted to wallow in the hurt for a while. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He used to tell me how he lucked out getting you as a team leader.”
Clearing his throat, Evan took a few steps away from Ronon. “Well, a lot of good that did him. He’s still dead.”
Ronon folded his arms across his chest and stared intently at Evan. After a few seconds, he said, “Back on Sateda, I had this CO. And while me and my buddies were fighting to the death, he was off protecting his own neck. He didn’t give a damn about us.”
“I’m sorry,” Evan said softly. “You’ve lost way more than I have. I probably sound like a whiner right now.”
“No,” Ronon said. “That’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is you give a damn, and that makes you a good officer. You’re hurting right now because you cared.”
Evan let out a breath. “Yeah, I’m a bleeding heart.”
Ronon scowled and took a step forward. “I’m trying to tell you that Jake at least died knowing he had value. He knew you cared about him. My friends? They died knowing they were cannon fodder.”
Swallowing hard, Evan kicked at the floor of the balcony. “No offense, Ronon,” he said. “But so what? What does it matter?”
“Dammit, it does matter,” Ronon said, gritting his teeth. “It-”
“No, it doesn’t,” Evan snapped. “Fuck that. Jake’s still dead.” He made a fist and threw a punch at the night air.
Ronon stared quietly at Evan for a long moment. “It’s not your fault,” he said after a moment.
Evan closed his eyes tightly. “I know. Logically, I do, anyway. But what I don’t know is how long I can keep shaking it off before I become dead to it.” He licked his lips. “I mean, maybe your old CO used to be a bleeding heart.”
Ronon let out a bitter laugh. “That guy? No. No, he was always a self-serving prick.”
Cocking his head at Ronon, Evan said, “But what if I turn into that?”
“I’d kick your ass before that ever happened.”
Evan smiled. “Well, I appreciate that.” He leaned back against the railing as another breeze drifted across the balcony.
“Listen,” Ronon said. “What you said earlier… I have lost a lot of people. If anyone was gonna become dead to pain and loss, it would be me. But the pain is still in there. Trust me.”
“How do you live with it?”
A quick smile ghosted across Ronon’s face. “The memories are in there, too. And there are some good ones. Little things, big things. They help me hold on.” He reached out and lightly caressed Evan’s cheek for a moment, then jerked his hand away. “Maybe that’s what you should put in your letter.”
Evan nodded and cleared his throat, his cheek still tingling from Ronon’s unexpected touch. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I can do that.”
They stood there quietly for a few minutes, letting the breeze sweep over them. Then Evan smacked Ronon on the arm and said, “I’m heading back in. And Ronon, thanks. I like our little chats. They’re…important to me.”
Ronon smiled. “Me too,” he said. Clearing his throat, he added, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking. If you want, maybe we could grab a bite after we spar Tuesday. I could tell you some of those memories.”
Evan gazed at him for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that a lot.” He felt lighter than he had since Jake’s death. Not happy exactly, but calm. Peaceful. And as turned and headed toward the doorway that led to the interior of the city, he allowed himself to smile for the first time in days.
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1609
Pairing: Ronon/Lorne, pre-slash
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine.
Summary: After Lorne loses a team member, Ronon reaches out to him.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "grief" and it answers the Lorne Fest prompt, “writing those letters home breaks Lorne’s heart.” A special thanks to zillah975, who talked me down from the ledge during the writing of this story.
The laptop was mocking him. He was sure of it.
After thirty-nine minutes of staring at that damn screen, all he’d been able to come up with is a few vacant words of lackluster sentiment.
“Fuck it,” Evan muttered to himself. He highlighted the whole mess and hit the delete key a little harder than necessary. It made him feel a little better, but now he was back to a blank screen and a blinking cursor.
Colonel Sheppard was already writing a letter home to Jacob Moore’s folks, but Evan had been his team leader. He needed to do this one last thing for Jake.
Writing letters home to parents was Evan’s least favorite part of the job. No matter how many platitudes he launched into, no matter what language he used, it was never enough, and it never seemed to make a difference. He was certain such letters provided little comfort to a family that was burying its son or daughter.
It certainly brought little comfort to Evan. After the words were typed and printed out on fancy watermarked paper, his man was still dead, and Evan still felt a dull pain in his gut. It was part of the job, and he knew that. But during his career, he’d seen more young men and women die than he ever thought he would.
With a groan, he discarded the laptop on the desk in front of him. He needed to get out of his office for a while-stretch his legs, clear his mind. His shift was long over anyway, and if he had any sense, he’d be curled up in bed sleeping off the stress of the past few days.
Evan had long been a night owl, though. Carson gave him a talking to about his lack of sleep at least once a week, but the unpredictability of his schedule coupled with lifelong insomnia meant that most nights, he was up while others slept. Since he had arrived on Atlantis, Evan had developed a routine of sleeping in patches. He often spent the wee hours of the morning roaming the city as he shook off the day.
He’d learned early on that he had company on those quiet nights-Atlantis was a magnet for insomniacs it seemed. If he wandered toward the dining area or into the labs, he could usually find McKay or Zelenka, puttering away on some project. And if he strolled to the little corner of the city where he liked to do a lot of his painting, he could usually find Ronon staring out at the night sky.
Over the past few weeks, Evan had learned to appreciate Ronon’s nighttime companionship. They didn’t always talk much-sometimes, they just greeted each other and silently enjoyed the gentle calm of the wee hours together. At other times, they chatted a bit just to pass the time.
Evan wasn’t sure what he needed tonight-conversation or silence. But his stroll through the city led him to the balcony where he knew he’d find Ronon. Evan passed through the doorway into the night air, and sure enough, Ronon was in the usual spot, leaning forward, both arms perched on the railing and his eyes fixed off in the distance.
As Evan slid up next to him, Ronon turned and nodded. “Hey,” he said. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting me?”
“You’re usually here at the same time as me.”
“True,” Evan said. He stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Sitting at his desk for the last couple of hours had wreaked more havoc on his body than running through some alien forest being chased by the Wraith.
Ronon gazed at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the night sky. “We gonna spar this week?”
“Yeah,” Evan said. “I want to. How about Tuesday-if we’re both in the city?”
Evan usually sparred with Ronon once a week. Despite his size, Evan was actually pretty damn good in a fight. Ronon and Teyla both said he was a natural, and he liked that Ronon never took it easy on him. He always challenged him to push beyond his limits.
“I should be around.” Ronon said. “McKay’s going Earthside for that conference thing, and Teyla took Torren to her village.”
“That’s right. I forgot about that.” Evan rubbed his hands over his face. “Jake was supposed to head home this on leave this week, too.”
Ronon scooted a little closer to Evan and nudged him with his elbow. “I’m sorry about Jake,” he said. “He was a good guy.”
“Yeah.” Evan closed his eyes as a soft breeze swept over his skin. It was a little cooler out tonight than it had been in weeks, and Evan was grateful for that small relief. “I’m trying to write a letter home to Jake’s folks,” he said.
Ronon nodded. “How’s that going?”
“Great,” Evan deadpanned. “I don’t know. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Go get some sleep. The letter can wait until tomorrow.”
Evan shook his head. “I’m not that kind of tired,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. But there are times when I feel like hanging up the dress blues and going off somewhere to paint sunsets.”
Jake certainly wasn’t the first man Evan had lost, and he wouldn’t be the last. And his death hadn’t been particularly dramatic-he’d simply gone down in a surprise Wraith attack like dozens of officers before him. Still, it was another name to be etched into Evan’s memory. Another loss. And it was wearing him out.
Ronon put a hand on Evan’s shoulder and squeezed. “He thought a lot of you, you know.”
Evan felt himself tense up at Ronon’s touch. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the comfort, but part of him wanted to wallow in the hurt for a while. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He used to tell me how he lucked out getting you as a team leader.”
Clearing his throat, Evan took a few steps away from Ronon. “Well, a lot of good that did him. He’s still dead.”
Ronon folded his arms across his chest and stared intently at Evan. After a few seconds, he said, “Back on Sateda, I had this CO. And while me and my buddies were fighting to the death, he was off protecting his own neck. He didn’t give a damn about us.”
“I’m sorry,” Evan said softly. “You’ve lost way more than I have. I probably sound like a whiner right now.”
“No,” Ronon said. “That’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is you give a damn, and that makes you a good officer. You’re hurting right now because you cared.”
Evan let out a breath. “Yeah, I’m a bleeding heart.”
Ronon scowled and took a step forward. “I’m trying to tell you that Jake at least died knowing he had value. He knew you cared about him. My friends? They died knowing they were cannon fodder.”
Swallowing hard, Evan kicked at the floor of the balcony. “No offense, Ronon,” he said. “But so what? What does it matter?”
“Dammit, it does matter,” Ronon said, gritting his teeth. “It-”
“No, it doesn’t,” Evan snapped. “Fuck that. Jake’s still dead.” He made a fist and threw a punch at the night air.
Ronon stared quietly at Evan for a long moment. “It’s not your fault,” he said after a moment.
Evan closed his eyes tightly. “I know. Logically, I do, anyway. But what I don’t know is how long I can keep shaking it off before I become dead to it.” He licked his lips. “I mean, maybe your old CO used to be a bleeding heart.”
Ronon let out a bitter laugh. “That guy? No. No, he was always a self-serving prick.”
Cocking his head at Ronon, Evan said, “But what if I turn into that?”
“I’d kick your ass before that ever happened.”
Evan smiled. “Well, I appreciate that.” He leaned back against the railing as another breeze drifted across the balcony.
“Listen,” Ronon said. “What you said earlier… I have lost a lot of people. If anyone was gonna become dead to pain and loss, it would be me. But the pain is still in there. Trust me.”
“How do you live with it?”
A quick smile ghosted across Ronon’s face. “The memories are in there, too. And there are some good ones. Little things, big things. They help me hold on.” He reached out and lightly caressed Evan’s cheek for a moment, then jerked his hand away. “Maybe that’s what you should put in your letter.”
Evan nodded and cleared his throat, his cheek still tingling from Ronon’s unexpected touch. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I can do that.”
They stood there quietly for a few minutes, letting the breeze sweep over them. Then Evan smacked Ronon on the arm and said, “I’m heading back in. And Ronon, thanks. I like our little chats. They’re…important to me.”
Ronon smiled. “Me too,” he said. Clearing his throat, he added, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking. If you want, maybe we could grab a bite after we spar Tuesday. I could tell you some of those memories.”
Evan gazed at him for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that a lot.” He felt lighter than he had since Jake’s death. Not happy exactly, but calm. Peaceful. And as turned and headed toward the doorway that led to the interior of the city, he allowed himself to smile for the first time in days.