12 Days of Lorne - Day 8
Title: Christmas Without You
Author: rubygirl29
Fandom: SGA
Rating: M
Characters: Evan Lorne/Cam Mitchell, John Sheppard/Ronon Dex
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words, and the "Breakaway" AU.
Summary: Lorne is facing a bleak Christmas on Atlantis until Santa John intervenes.
Author's Note: For the 12 Days of Lorne in slashing_lorne The lyrics are from "Christmas Without You" by OneRepublic.
I missed Thanksgiving, missed a birthday or two
Didn't make St. Valentines, but I was thinking of you
Only one thing in the world, I couldn't do
Only one thing could kill me, Christmas without you.
Lorne knows that he can't go home every Christmas. He's been lucky enough to spend that last two on earth with Cam, but three in a row is more than he can ask or expect. To spend the holiday on Atlantis is one thing, to spend it in the infirmary is a cold slap of reality.
His swollen ankle is propped up on pillows and his right wrist is heavily wrapped. His head hurts and he can hardly breathe with his ribs taped up. That's what happens when the F-304 you're piloting is hit by a Wraith energy beam before the rest of the squad shows up. He ejected on a rocky planet, landed hard and spent a night out in the cold before Sheppard was able to pilot a jumper through the space gate and rescue him.
So ... the infirmary. John, thinking he was being helpful, had decked out his IV pole with strings of tiny plastic ornaments and evergreen sprigs. Yeah, that cheered him up.
"Can I get you anything, Major?" asked the nurse, peering into his cubicle.
"A good stiff drink?" He suggests and receives a tsk of disapproval. He sighs. "I didn't think so."
"You should take your pills and get some sleep," she tells him sternly.
"Yes, ma'am." She nods her approval and leaves a plastic cup and a small white pill on his table. He looks at it like it's the enemy. He should sleep. Maybe he wouldn't wake until after Christmas. He doesn't want to do that, either. He's too stubborn, too hopeful, and he missed Cam too much.
His curtain parts and Teyla looks in. "May I come in, Major?"
He can't even push himself upright to greet her. "Sure, Teyla."
"You're feeling well enough?" She steps inside, holding one hand behind her back.
"For you, yes."
She smiles at him sympathetically. "It is difficult for you being here over your holidays."
"A little. Company helps." Being gallant is an effort, but he genuinely likes Teyla and wouldn't hurt her for the world. "What's behind your back?"
She smiles. "The children of my village made this for you. They thought you might want something cheerful to look at." She holds out a package. "I can open it for you?"
"Yes, please."
She unwraps it and holds up a mobile of small clay birds, painted in bright colors. "John said that your people call this a wind chime?"
"Yeah, we do. He touches the birds with a light finger and the clay rings sweetly. The birds are primitive and made with childish fingers, but they brighten up the white space of his cubicle. "Tell them how much I like this. Tell them I'll visit to thank them in person when I'm able." His throat feels a little tight. "I didn't know they cared that much."
"They are very fond of you, Major. They consider you a good friend."
"They remind me of my nephews. I'll miss seeing them this year, but they're used to that. I've been away from home a lot." He takes a breath, winces. "This helps. Thank you, Teyla."
"You're welcome, Major." She bows gracefully, touching her forehead to his in an Athosian salutation. "Feel better soon."
He hopes so, and considers the white pill that will bring eight hours of oblivion. He's reaching for it when John Sheppard looks in. "Hey, how are you doing?"
"Better."
"Well, you look tired."
"I was going to get some sleep but I keep getting interrupted. Hang this up on the IV pole, will you?" He hands John the chimes. He knows he's being ridiculously informal, but both he and Sheppard are off the clock, and they are friends outside the constraints of military command.
"Sorry about the holiday," John says, "But I'm glad you're okay -- relatively speaking."
"Thanks. It's not like I was going home -- I knew that." There is a rustle of cloth as Ronon enters the cubicle, overwhelming it with his size. He leans against John familiarly, one arm draped over John's shoulder.
"How're you doing?" he asks.
Lorne feels a pang of jealousy at their ease, with what they mean to each other, but quashes it sternly. "Thanks for the rescue, guys. I'd rather spend Christmas here than on that damn planet."
Ronon grins at John, who rubs his hand over his mouth as if to hide a smile. "Yeah?"
"What's up?"
"Nothing. Not a thing. Take your pill and go to sleep. You're imagining things." John folds his arms. "That's an order, Major." He pours a glass of water and holds out the pill.
Lorne lifts his uninjured hand. "Yes, sir." He takes the water and swallows the pill. What else can he do?
John and Ronon stay until he starts drifting off. He hears them whispering, but the drugs are muddling the words and they aren't making sense.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Of course, he's awake at five in the morning when the pills and pain medications start wearing off. He could ask for more, but he'd rather live with the discomfort than feel like he was lost in a fog. It's dark in the infirmary except for the lights glowing on the displays and the tiny bulbs festooning the IV pole John had set up. The little painted birds on the wind chime glimmer in the lights, moved by the slight currents of air.
Sometimes the silence on Atlantis is vast. Lorne sighs. Not a creature was stirring ... Hurting, he hits the button on the morphine pump and waits for the drug to ease the pain. He closes his eyes resolutely.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Hey, Evan. You've got a present. Wake up.
He's dreaming. It's Christmas and he's at home, right?
"Hey, Ev. Wake up. Merry Christmas." Cam's voice. He must be on the good drugs. He feels a breath on his forehead, strong fingers claiming his. Really good drugs.
"C'mon, I didn't cross two galaxies on Santa's sleigh just to watch you sleep. Open your eyes."
"If I open my eyes, the dream will be over," Evan sighs. "I like it here."
"It can be better." Cam's lips brush his and Evan smiles.
"Better?"
"I promise."
Evan cracks one eye, just enough to see a blurry image, and then both eyes fly wide open. "Cam! How are you here?" He struggles to sit up, but Cam holds him down gently.
"Easy, Ev. I'm not going anywhere."
"But -- how?"
"I was on the Odyssey when John contacted me and said you'd been hurt. We made a detour to a planet with a gate, and thanks to the Midway station, here I am."
"On Christmas?"
"If there was one day I couldn't miss, it was being with you today. Not just because you're hurt, but because ... " Cam's blue eyes swim with tears that he blinks away. "Because I love you, and as my Grandma used to say, 'No matter how far away you are, you've got to keep your loved ones close at Christmas.' I missed Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July. Missing Christmas with you would have just about killed me."
"I love you, too." Evan says, and a tear leaks from his eyelids, betraying his smile. "Sorry it's not the best Christmas we've had."
"I can change that," Cam says. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a silver ring. "Will you marry me?"
"Now?"
Cam grins. "If that's what you want ... However, I had something a little more romantic in mind. As much as I like you flat on your back, I'd prefer it without Ace bandages and morphine."
Evan laughs. "I'd like that, too. So, yes. I'll marry you."
He kisses Evan, just gently breaching his lips with his tongue, a promise of so much more. Evan holds him close. "Best Christmas, ever." He whispers against Cam's cheek, and feels the smile, warm and hard, down to his toes.
The End
Author: rubygirl29
Fandom: SGA
Rating: M
Characters: Evan Lorne/Cam Mitchell, John Sheppard/Ronon Dex
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words, and the "Breakaway" AU.
Summary: Lorne is facing a bleak Christmas on Atlantis until Santa John intervenes.
Author's Note: For the 12 Days of Lorne in slashing_lorne The lyrics are from "Christmas Without You" by OneRepublic.
I missed Thanksgiving, missed a birthday or two
Didn't make St. Valentines, but I was thinking of you
Only one thing in the world, I couldn't do
Only one thing could kill me, Christmas without you.
Lorne knows that he can't go home every Christmas. He's been lucky enough to spend that last two on earth with Cam, but three in a row is more than he can ask or expect. To spend the holiday on Atlantis is one thing, to spend it in the infirmary is a cold slap of reality.
His swollen ankle is propped up on pillows and his right wrist is heavily wrapped. His head hurts and he can hardly breathe with his ribs taped up. That's what happens when the F-304 you're piloting is hit by a Wraith energy beam before the rest of the squad shows up. He ejected on a rocky planet, landed hard and spent a night out in the cold before Sheppard was able to pilot a jumper through the space gate and rescue him.
So ... the infirmary. John, thinking he was being helpful, had decked out his IV pole with strings of tiny plastic ornaments and evergreen sprigs. Yeah, that cheered him up.
"Can I get you anything, Major?" asked the nurse, peering into his cubicle.
"A good stiff drink?" He suggests and receives a tsk of disapproval. He sighs. "I didn't think so."
"You should take your pills and get some sleep," she tells him sternly.
"Yes, ma'am." She nods her approval and leaves a plastic cup and a small white pill on his table. He looks at it like it's the enemy. He should sleep. Maybe he wouldn't wake until after Christmas. He doesn't want to do that, either. He's too stubborn, too hopeful, and he missed Cam too much.
His curtain parts and Teyla looks in. "May I come in, Major?"
He can't even push himself upright to greet her. "Sure, Teyla."
"You're feeling well enough?" She steps inside, holding one hand behind her back.
"For you, yes."
She smiles at him sympathetically. "It is difficult for you being here over your holidays."
"A little. Company helps." Being gallant is an effort, but he genuinely likes Teyla and wouldn't hurt her for the world. "What's behind your back?"
She smiles. "The children of my village made this for you. They thought you might want something cheerful to look at." She holds out a package. "I can open it for you?"
"Yes, please."
She unwraps it and holds up a mobile of small clay birds, painted in bright colors. "John said that your people call this a wind chime?"
"Yeah, we do. He touches the birds with a light finger and the clay rings sweetly. The birds are primitive and made with childish fingers, but they brighten up the white space of his cubicle. "Tell them how much I like this. Tell them I'll visit to thank them in person when I'm able." His throat feels a little tight. "I didn't know they cared that much."
"They are very fond of you, Major. They consider you a good friend."
"They remind me of my nephews. I'll miss seeing them this year, but they're used to that. I've been away from home a lot." He takes a breath, winces. "This helps. Thank you, Teyla."
"You're welcome, Major." She bows gracefully, touching her forehead to his in an Athosian salutation. "Feel better soon."
He hopes so, and considers the white pill that will bring eight hours of oblivion. He's reaching for it when John Sheppard looks in. "Hey, how are you doing?"
"Better."
"Well, you look tired."
"I was going to get some sleep but I keep getting interrupted. Hang this up on the IV pole, will you?" He hands John the chimes. He knows he's being ridiculously informal, but both he and Sheppard are off the clock, and they are friends outside the constraints of military command.
"Sorry about the holiday," John says, "But I'm glad you're okay -- relatively speaking."
"Thanks. It's not like I was going home -- I knew that." There is a rustle of cloth as Ronon enters the cubicle, overwhelming it with his size. He leans against John familiarly, one arm draped over John's shoulder.
"How're you doing?" he asks.
Lorne feels a pang of jealousy at their ease, with what they mean to each other, but quashes it sternly. "Thanks for the rescue, guys. I'd rather spend Christmas here than on that damn planet."
Ronon grins at John, who rubs his hand over his mouth as if to hide a smile. "Yeah?"
"What's up?"
"Nothing. Not a thing. Take your pill and go to sleep. You're imagining things." John folds his arms. "That's an order, Major." He pours a glass of water and holds out the pill.
Lorne lifts his uninjured hand. "Yes, sir." He takes the water and swallows the pill. What else can he do?
John and Ronon stay until he starts drifting off. He hears them whispering, but the drugs are muddling the words and they aren't making sense.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Of course, he's awake at five in the morning when the pills and pain medications start wearing off. He could ask for more, but he'd rather live with the discomfort than feel like he was lost in a fog. It's dark in the infirmary except for the lights glowing on the displays and the tiny bulbs festooning the IV pole John had set up. The little painted birds on the wind chime glimmer in the lights, moved by the slight currents of air.
Sometimes the silence on Atlantis is vast. Lorne sighs. Not a creature was stirring ... Hurting, he hits the button on the morphine pump and waits for the drug to ease the pain. He closes his eyes resolutely.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Hey, Evan. You've got a present. Wake up.
He's dreaming. It's Christmas and he's at home, right?
"Hey, Ev. Wake up. Merry Christmas." Cam's voice. He must be on the good drugs. He feels a breath on his forehead, strong fingers claiming his. Really good drugs.
"C'mon, I didn't cross two galaxies on Santa's sleigh just to watch you sleep. Open your eyes."
"If I open my eyes, the dream will be over," Evan sighs. "I like it here."
"It can be better." Cam's lips brush his and Evan smiles.
"Better?"
"I promise."
Evan cracks one eye, just enough to see a blurry image, and then both eyes fly wide open. "Cam! How are you here?" He struggles to sit up, but Cam holds him down gently.
"Easy, Ev. I'm not going anywhere."
"But -- how?"
"I was on the Odyssey when John contacted me and said you'd been hurt. We made a detour to a planet with a gate, and thanks to the Midway station, here I am."
"On Christmas?"
"If there was one day I couldn't miss, it was being with you today. Not just because you're hurt, but because ... " Cam's blue eyes swim with tears that he blinks away. "Because I love you, and as my Grandma used to say, 'No matter how far away you are, you've got to keep your loved ones close at Christmas.' I missed Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July. Missing Christmas with you would have just about killed me."
"I love you, too." Evan says, and a tear leaks from his eyelids, betraying his smile. "Sorry it's not the best Christmas we've had."
"I can change that," Cam says. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a silver ring. "Will you marry me?"
"Now?"
Cam grins. "If that's what you want ... However, I had something a little more romantic in mind. As much as I like you flat on your back, I'd prefer it without Ace bandages and morphine."
Evan laughs. "I'd like that, too. So, yes. I'll marry you."
He kisses Evan, just gently breaching his lips with his tongue, a promise of so much more. Evan holds him close. "Best Christmas, ever." He whispers against Cam's cheek, and feels the smile, warm and hard, down to his toes.
The End