You Should Know Something
Title: You Should Know Something
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG-1 - AU
Series: a snippet from an AU of the telpa ‘verse
Characters/Pairing: Mitchell/Lorne
Rating: PG
Orientation: Slash
Word Count: 2,164
Notes: for uxseven, who wanted me to bop back to this pairing that I did a tease of a while back.
Prompts: Phonesex/Epistolary
Cotton Candy Bingo: Cough
Angst Bingo: Septicemia/ Infected Wounds
Hurt Comfort Bingo: Fever/Delirium
“Magistrate Mitchell, I see you don’t have your pretty telpa in tow.”
Cam stopped and schooled his face into one that conveyed professionalism rather than the irritation he felt at hearing Magistrate Harriman’s voice. He said nothing, he merely nodded, refusing to indulge Harriman’s curiosity. Realizing he was not going to get Cam to talk to him, Harriman bowed his head and moved on.
It had been a long time since Cam had to haul his own portfolios and papers for the day’s cases. But Lorne was ill, a lingering cough had been plaguing him for many days. The healer that had come to the house had pulled him out of the bed chamber and said things that had frightened Cam, dire warnings about the seriousness of Lorne’s condition. A cut on his telpa’s hand had become infected and the poison was spreading through his body. On the healer’s strict orders, Lorne was to stay in bed, with the room darkened. Only a nursemaid that the healer had sent was allowed in and out of the room. Cam had to sleep elsewhere.
That morning, Lorne had insisted that Cam leave and see to his caseload. Refusing to go might have frightened Lorne, and he needed to keep up the appearance of everything being normal. He had gathered his papers from the desk and the tables near the bed and reluctantly left his telpa for the day. Mitchell went to the long table at the front of the room, trying to set aside his lingering worry for his telpa. He sat in the chair at the left, this was a Tribunal day, he would hear cases with two of his peers.
He opened his portfolio and blinked at a page full of Lorne’s handwriting. A letter. As the other people in the room bustled around preparing for the proceedings, he lifted the letter and read.
Cam,
The healer just left and I could tell that the news isn’t good, though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I’m just a telpa, after all. I wanted to write something down while I am still able to hold a pen and convey my thoughts.
The best day of my life was the day you took me from the pens. I had been terrified at where I would end up, the person that might buy me and what I would be required to do for them. From the start, you treated me better than anyone has ever treated me. It has always been my pleasure to serve you, in everything. Now that I am yours, I can imagine no other life.
With you, I feel safe and I feel wanted. You allow me pleasure - you give me such pleasure with your body, Cam. Not long ago, you offered me freedom, you wrote the papers and I declined. But I took freedom that night, of a different kind. Your gesture gave me freedom from the worries I have always lived with. I no longer fear that you are going to send me away, or worse, sell me. I’m yours, I belong with you.
When I first got sick, I saw something in your eyes that I have never seen before; concern, for me. You held me when the coughing started and I couldn’t catch my breath and I was so scared by that. You bandaged my hand, you cleaned the stink off the wound. You spent your coin to have a healer come for me.
I feel myself growing weaker. The healer wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I think this is bad. It is harder and harder to draw a decent breath. My hand feels like it is on fire, my skin is as tight as a drumhead. Thankfully, it is not my writing hand, or I could not tell you what I need to tell you, what I have been too afraid to say, for fear it would change things between us. I couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me.
You have my heart, Cam Mitchell. Now and always, please know that you have my heart.
Evan
Cam stared at the paper, which started to blur. Evan? Lorne had signed the letter Evan, his given name, which he had never told Cam. He’d simply been Lorne, the name on his papers.
And he knew what the healer had said to Cam. The poison from the wound was spreading. If a fever came over him, he might not be able to fight his way through it. There was a very real possibility that Cam might lose him.
He couldn’t stay here. He looked around and caught the eye of the bailiff, beckoning him over as he folded the letter back into his portfolio and gathering his belongings. “I need to leave. There is sickness in my house, I need to be there. Please have my cases distributed among the councilors.”
When he reached home, one of the house telpa ran up to him in the entryway. “DranWrin Mitchell, the nurse was sending a messenger for you...” Cam didn’t wait to hear the rest of the message, he took the stairs two at a time and ran to his bedchamber.
The nurse was bathing Lorne’s face with a sponge as he tossed and turned, bucking up off the mattress. She looked up at Cam and shook her head. “The fever came upon him suddenly. The wound is swollen and oozing. I have sent for the healer, but I do not know how long before he comes, it might be a day or two, he went to the country and will not rush back for a telpa.”
Annoyed, Cam snapped, “My mother used to soak wounds in a pan of salted water. The cook knows the mixture, if nothing else, it might sooth him.” Cam sat on the bed and caught Lorne’s shoulders, pressing him back onto the mattress. He was drenched with sweat and his skin was burning hot.
The nurse stood. “If you will stay with him, I will see what the cook remembers.” It had been what he intended with the statement so he did nothing to stop her from leaving.
Cam picked up the sponge and soaked it in the bowl of cool water. He pulled back the sheet and washed Lorne’s neck, chest, and belly, then gently wiped down his arms. “You need to hold on, Evan.” The name was unfamiliar on his tongue, but Lorne had gifted him with it, and so he would use it. “Stay with me.”
He unwrapped the yellowed bandage and drew back at the stench rising from the wound. The healer had told him that gangrene had not yet set in, but if it did, Lorne would certainly lose his hand, if not his arm. He washed around the wound and carefully set Lorne’s hand down on the bed.
Leaning over, he kissed Lorne’s forehead. “Keep fighting.”
He sat with Lorne through the day, bathing him repeatedly. He dismissed the nurse after watching how she handled Lorne and realizing he could do better himself. Beside handling him roughly, she treated Lorne as if he were not worth her time because he was telpa, and Cam didn’t like that at all.
A candlemark after the sun had set, he heard someone come into the room and was surprised to see Carson, the cook, standing there with a tray full of covered dishes. Carson never ventured abovestairs. He looked at Lorne and clucked his tongue. “I brought you some meat and root mash. And I’ve had a strong stock simmering all day for him. Your mother swore by a good strong broth. It’s cool enough to feed him now.”
“Thank you,” he gave him a wavering smile. He had forgotten about his mother’s soups. Carson carried the tray over and Cam took the bowl of broth and the spoon.
“Good and rich. It will give him strength. There’s a toddy there too, a few fingers might help the lad.” Carson set the tray on the bedside table and then picked up a wad of cloth from it. He circled around the bed and carefully lifted Lorne’s arm, turning his hand back and forth. Lorne whimpered as he pressed his fingers around the cut. “Did the healer drain this?”
“I don’t think so,” Cam replied. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shook his head and left the room.
Cam slowly spooned broth into Lorne’s mouth, a tiny bit at a time. He got most of it into his telpa before Carson came back, a stack of folded cloths over his arm and a sharp paring knife in his hand. He put a cloth on the bed under Lorne’s arm and held up the knife for Cam to see. “I cleaned and heated the knife over the fire. We need to get some of this bad stuff out of him.” Lorne began to cough violently, Cam put an arm under him and lifted him, holding him until the cough subsided.
Eyeing the wound, Carson made a small slice, catching the oozing pus and blood on one of the cloths that he had brought with him. “You can’t trust the fancy healers, that’s what your mother always said, after your father died. The old ways aren’t all bad.” He held the knife out to Cam and he set it and the bowl back on the tray. “Hold him still, this is going to hurt him.” Cam put his hands on Lorne’s shoulders and held him down as Carson pressed on the wound.
“CAM!” Lorne shouted, his eyes opening.
“Shh. Easy there.”
“Hurts,” Lorne said, and began to cough. Carson pulled his hands away and Cam gathered Evan up and held him as he shook and tried to breathe.
“Let me have your hand, lad,” Carson said. Lorne raised it limply and the cook gently wrapped a clean cloth around it and continued pressing out the fluid. “We need to get all that poison out of you. It will hurt for just a little bit more.”
Lorne rested his face against Cam’s throat, breathing shallowly as Carson finished cleaning the wound. He spread a silver laced tincture over Lorne’s hand and then bandaged it again. By the time he finished, Lorne was sleeping. Cam continued to hold him until he felt his own eyes closing and then he set Lorne back on the bed and stretched out beside him.
When he woke, Cam was soaking wet. Lorne was pressed against him, snoring lightly, his injured hand thrown up over his head, across the pillow. When Cam rolled over and touched his face, he found Evan’s skin cool. The fever had broken. He pulled Lorne close and sent a prayer of gratitude to the gods for not taking him.
~*~
“I need to go, there’s a case that I’m the sole magistrate hearing coming up from a lower court today. Ring the bell if you need anything, Pallie and Cook will be listening.”
“I’m fine, Cam, I don’t need to stay in bed.”
“You nearly died.”
Evan made a face at him. “I didn’t.”
His cantal touched a hand to his cheek and then leaned down to kiss his lips softly. “Close enough. Stay in bed, read, sleep. You can get up tomorrow.” He dropped a book on the mattress beside Evan and then left, pausing in the doorway to look back and smile.
He closed his eyes and napped for a time. Later, he picked up the book. He checked the spine, which was blank. He opened the book and found a folded piece of parchment there, labeled “Evan,” in Cam’s distinctive scrawl. It seemed Cam had gotten his letter. He smiled and opened the paper.
Evan,
I have never been as frightened as I was these past few days, helpless to do anything except hold you and watch you writhe in pain. I hope to never know days like that again.
It seems that we have exchanged hearts, you and I. I care more deeply for you than for anyone else. I want to keep you at my side, protect you, share my bed with you. When you are not with me, I think about you. Sometimes in inappropriate ways at inappropriate times. You are a joy in my life the likes of which I had never thought to find.
I would never send you away, my home is your home, my bed is your bed. For as long as you wish to dwell there.
I would offer you my heart, but you already have it.
All my love,
CameronEvan sighed happily and reread the letter, committing it to memory. He couldn’t keep his mind on the book as he tried to read the pages. His thoughts kept returning to the letter, proof that Cam returned his feelings. Everything was going to be good, from now on. Life was going to be very good.
The End
Originally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG-1 - AU
Series: a snippet from an AU of the telpa ‘verse
Characters/Pairing: Mitchell/Lorne
Rating: PG
Orientation: Slash
Word Count: 2,164
Notes: for uxseven, who wanted me to bop back to this pairing that I did a tease of a while back.
Prompts: Phonesex/Epistolary
Cotton Candy Bingo: Cough
Angst Bingo: Septicemia/ Infected Wounds
Hurt Comfort Bingo: Fever/Delirium
“Magistrate Mitchell, I see you don’t have your pretty telpa in tow.”
Cam stopped and schooled his face into one that conveyed professionalism rather than the irritation he felt at hearing Magistrate Harriman’s voice. He said nothing, he merely nodded, refusing to indulge Harriman’s curiosity. Realizing he was not going to get Cam to talk to him, Harriman bowed his head and moved on.
It had been a long time since Cam had to haul his own portfolios and papers for the day’s cases. But Lorne was ill, a lingering cough had been plaguing him for many days. The healer that had come to the house had pulled him out of the bed chamber and said things that had frightened Cam, dire warnings about the seriousness of Lorne’s condition. A cut on his telpa’s hand had become infected and the poison was spreading through his body. On the healer’s strict orders, Lorne was to stay in bed, with the room darkened. Only a nursemaid that the healer had sent was allowed in and out of the room. Cam had to sleep elsewhere.
That morning, Lorne had insisted that Cam leave and see to his caseload. Refusing to go might have frightened Lorne, and he needed to keep up the appearance of everything being normal. He had gathered his papers from the desk and the tables near the bed and reluctantly left his telpa for the day. Mitchell went to the long table at the front of the room, trying to set aside his lingering worry for his telpa. He sat in the chair at the left, this was a Tribunal day, he would hear cases with two of his peers.
He opened his portfolio and blinked at a page full of Lorne’s handwriting. A letter. As the other people in the room bustled around preparing for the proceedings, he lifted the letter and read.
Cam,
The healer just left and I could tell that the news isn’t good, though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I’m just a telpa, after all. I wanted to write something down while I am still able to hold a pen and convey my thoughts.
The best day of my life was the day you took me from the pens. I had been terrified at where I would end up, the person that might buy me and what I would be required to do for them. From the start, you treated me better than anyone has ever treated me. It has always been my pleasure to serve you, in everything. Now that I am yours, I can imagine no other life.
With you, I feel safe and I feel wanted. You allow me pleasure - you give me such pleasure with your body, Cam. Not long ago, you offered me freedom, you wrote the papers and I declined. But I took freedom that night, of a different kind. Your gesture gave me freedom from the worries I have always lived with. I no longer fear that you are going to send me away, or worse, sell me. I’m yours, I belong with you.
When I first got sick, I saw something in your eyes that I have never seen before; concern, for me. You held me when the coughing started and I couldn’t catch my breath and I was so scared by that. You bandaged my hand, you cleaned the stink off the wound. You spent your coin to have a healer come for me.
I feel myself growing weaker. The healer wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I think this is bad. It is harder and harder to draw a decent breath. My hand feels like it is on fire, my skin is as tight as a drumhead. Thankfully, it is not my writing hand, or I could not tell you what I need to tell you, what I have been too afraid to say, for fear it would change things between us. I couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me.
You have my heart, Cam Mitchell. Now and always, please know that you have my heart.
Evan
Cam stared at the paper, which started to blur. Evan? Lorne had signed the letter Evan, his given name, which he had never told Cam. He’d simply been Lorne, the name on his papers.
And he knew what the healer had said to Cam. The poison from the wound was spreading. If a fever came over him, he might not be able to fight his way through it. There was a very real possibility that Cam might lose him.
He couldn’t stay here. He looked around and caught the eye of the bailiff, beckoning him over as he folded the letter back into his portfolio and gathering his belongings. “I need to leave. There is sickness in my house, I need to be there. Please have my cases distributed among the councilors.”
When he reached home, one of the house telpa ran up to him in the entryway. “DranWrin Mitchell, the nurse was sending a messenger for you...” Cam didn’t wait to hear the rest of the message, he took the stairs two at a time and ran to his bedchamber.
The nurse was bathing Lorne’s face with a sponge as he tossed and turned, bucking up off the mattress. She looked up at Cam and shook her head. “The fever came upon him suddenly. The wound is swollen and oozing. I have sent for the healer, but I do not know how long before he comes, it might be a day or two, he went to the country and will not rush back for a telpa.”
Annoyed, Cam snapped, “My mother used to soak wounds in a pan of salted water. The cook knows the mixture, if nothing else, it might sooth him.” Cam sat on the bed and caught Lorne’s shoulders, pressing him back onto the mattress. He was drenched with sweat and his skin was burning hot.
The nurse stood. “If you will stay with him, I will see what the cook remembers.” It had been what he intended with the statement so he did nothing to stop her from leaving.
Cam picked up the sponge and soaked it in the bowl of cool water. He pulled back the sheet and washed Lorne’s neck, chest, and belly, then gently wiped down his arms. “You need to hold on, Evan.” The name was unfamiliar on his tongue, but Lorne had gifted him with it, and so he would use it. “Stay with me.”
He unwrapped the yellowed bandage and drew back at the stench rising from the wound. The healer had told him that gangrene had not yet set in, but if it did, Lorne would certainly lose his hand, if not his arm. He washed around the wound and carefully set Lorne’s hand down on the bed.
Leaning over, he kissed Lorne’s forehead. “Keep fighting.”
He sat with Lorne through the day, bathing him repeatedly. He dismissed the nurse after watching how she handled Lorne and realizing he could do better himself. Beside handling him roughly, she treated Lorne as if he were not worth her time because he was telpa, and Cam didn’t like that at all.
A candlemark after the sun had set, he heard someone come into the room and was surprised to see Carson, the cook, standing there with a tray full of covered dishes. Carson never ventured abovestairs. He looked at Lorne and clucked his tongue. “I brought you some meat and root mash. And I’ve had a strong stock simmering all day for him. Your mother swore by a good strong broth. It’s cool enough to feed him now.”
“Thank you,” he gave him a wavering smile. He had forgotten about his mother’s soups. Carson carried the tray over and Cam took the bowl of broth and the spoon.
“Good and rich. It will give him strength. There’s a toddy there too, a few fingers might help the lad.” Carson set the tray on the bedside table and then picked up a wad of cloth from it. He circled around the bed and carefully lifted Lorne’s arm, turning his hand back and forth. Lorne whimpered as he pressed his fingers around the cut. “Did the healer drain this?”
“I don’t think so,” Cam replied. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shook his head and left the room.
Cam slowly spooned broth into Lorne’s mouth, a tiny bit at a time. He got most of it into his telpa before Carson came back, a stack of folded cloths over his arm and a sharp paring knife in his hand. He put a cloth on the bed under Lorne’s arm and held up the knife for Cam to see. “I cleaned and heated the knife over the fire. We need to get some of this bad stuff out of him.” Lorne began to cough violently, Cam put an arm under him and lifted him, holding him until the cough subsided.
Eyeing the wound, Carson made a small slice, catching the oozing pus and blood on one of the cloths that he had brought with him. “You can’t trust the fancy healers, that’s what your mother always said, after your father died. The old ways aren’t all bad.” He held the knife out to Cam and he set it and the bowl back on the tray. “Hold him still, this is going to hurt him.” Cam put his hands on Lorne’s shoulders and held him down as Carson pressed on the wound.
“CAM!” Lorne shouted, his eyes opening.
“Shh. Easy there.”
“Hurts,” Lorne said, and began to cough. Carson pulled his hands away and Cam gathered Evan up and held him as he shook and tried to breathe.
“Let me have your hand, lad,” Carson said. Lorne raised it limply and the cook gently wrapped a clean cloth around it and continued pressing out the fluid. “We need to get all that poison out of you. It will hurt for just a little bit more.”
Lorne rested his face against Cam’s throat, breathing shallowly as Carson finished cleaning the wound. He spread a silver laced tincture over Lorne’s hand and then bandaged it again. By the time he finished, Lorne was sleeping. Cam continued to hold him until he felt his own eyes closing and then he set Lorne back on the bed and stretched out beside him.
When he woke, Cam was soaking wet. Lorne was pressed against him, snoring lightly, his injured hand thrown up over his head, across the pillow. When Cam rolled over and touched his face, he found Evan’s skin cool. The fever had broken. He pulled Lorne close and sent a prayer of gratitude to the gods for not taking him.
~*~
“I need to go, there’s a case that I’m the sole magistrate hearing coming up from a lower court today. Ring the bell if you need anything, Pallie and Cook will be listening.”
“I’m fine, Cam, I don’t need to stay in bed.”
“You nearly died.”
Evan made a face at him. “I didn’t.”
His cantal touched a hand to his cheek and then leaned down to kiss his lips softly. “Close enough. Stay in bed, read, sleep. You can get up tomorrow.” He dropped a book on the mattress beside Evan and then left, pausing in the doorway to look back and smile.
He closed his eyes and napped for a time. Later, he picked up the book. He checked the spine, which was blank. He opened the book and found a folded piece of parchment there, labeled “Evan,” in Cam’s distinctive scrawl. It seemed Cam had gotten his letter. He smiled and opened the paper.
Evan,
I have never been as frightened as I was these past few days, helpless to do anything except hold you and watch you writhe in pain. I hope to never know days like that again.
It seems that we have exchanged hearts, you and I. I care more deeply for you than for anyone else. I want to keep you at my side, protect you, share my bed with you. When you are not with me, I think about you. Sometimes in inappropriate ways at inappropriate times. You are a joy in my life the likes of which I had never thought to find.
I would never send you away, my home is your home, my bed is your bed. For as long as you wish to dwell there.
I would offer you my heart, but you already have it.
All my love,
CameronEvan sighed happily and reread the letter, committing it to memory. He couldn’t keep his mind on the book as he tried to read the pages. His thoughts kept returning to the letter, proof that Cam returned his feelings. Everything was going to be good, from now on. Life was going to be very good.
The End
Originally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/