Impossible Things

Setting: January – December, 2011

I. Tempus Fugit

(Time is Fleeing)

“I think I’ve forgotten what sex is like.”

Major Nick Lorne set his tray down opposite Colonel Sheppard’s and slid into the corresponding seat. The colonel nodded absently, and was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee when he processed Lorne’s words. “Wait, what?”

Lorne poked at this week’s attempt at scrambled eggs. “It’s not that I can’t remember what it’s like, exactly. It’s more that the concept of actually having it seems almost abstract. Like remembering what it felt like to break your leg, you know?”

Sheppard set his coffee cup down carefully. “Just out of curiosity, is there a particular reason you thought I was the person to mention this too? As opposed to, say…” He scanned the room quickly. “Ronon? Ronon would be great for this kind of thing. Seven years on the run and all that. I’m sure he could give you advice or something…”

Lorne rolled his eyes. “I’m not looking for advice, sir.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I can do sympathetic. Totally sympathetic. Just, uh, can we stick to five minutes of sympathy? Because McKay’s got this thing he wants me to activate in the labs, and I really don’t want to spend the next week on the couch because I showed up late.”

Lorne stabbed his toast morbidly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just one of those things you wake up knowing one day and kind of want to discuss with someone. Thought you were my safest bet.”

Sheppard nodded. “Hey, I appreciate the show of trust. I just, uh, don’t do the whole talking thing well.” He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face as he finished his coffee. “Why don’t you talk to Novak? You two are pretty close, right? Chicks are always better at this kind of thing.”

Lorne shifted uncomfortably. “I’d, uh, rather not. Sir.”

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “Really. Huh. So you and her aren’t actually…?” He gestured vaguely with his mug – It could have meant ‘fucking like bunnies’ or it could have meant directing traffic. “Well, I guess the comment about sex kind of nails that one, but I thought you two were, you know…”

Lorne choked, and gave up on his not-eggs. “Uh, no. No, we’re just friends. She helps out with Tom when I’m off world, hangs out sometimes; that kind of thing.”

Sheppard nodded slowly. “Right…” He made a point of checking his watch. “Well, I’ve got to get down to the lab. Only got half an hour of free time before I have to start working on the integration policies in case the sanctions really go through.” He made a face and stood, gathering up his tray. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into doing some of that?”

“With all due respect, sir, I’ll be lucky to have my share done in time for the vote. You’re on your own.”

Sheppard grumbled, but didn’t argue. After he was gone, Lorne took his time finishing the last of his coffee, reflecting on the changes in his life and Sheppard’s insinuations about Lindsey. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard them before, but Sheppard wasn’t normally one to gossip. Of course, five years ago Lorne wouldn’t have told a superior officer no even when it came to a veiled direct order. They had all changed. If things continued as they were, there would be far more adjustment in store during the next few months.

* * *

Following the arrival of the Daedalus and the formal refusal to hand over their one fully-functional ZPM, things went crazy. There were meetings, and more meetings, and even more meetings. There were logistical issues that needed immediate attention – Housing for Daedalus crew members who had requested permanent transfer to the city (There were close to a hundred of them, all told - 50 men and 35 women), and reassigning the rooms belonging to those who has left on the Daedalus (Far fewer), for example. By the end of the first week, Lorne was pretty sure that if he never saw another spreadsheet it would be too soon.

Lorne spent the second week after the official severance off-world. He bounced between established trading partners, reactivating dormant trade agreements for things like clothing and food. By the time he staggered into his quarters at 0300 following the last of the negotiations, he was just grateful to be home. It wasn’t until he fell into bed, already half asleep, that he realized it was already occupied. There was a squeak when the bed shifted, and he startled badly. He thought on the lights, and squinted in the sudden brightness. “Lindsey?”

She sat up, blinking at him. “Nick? I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow…” She rubbed sleepily at her eyes. “You ok?”

“I’m fine. Got done early, came back instead of spending the night.” He yawned.

She threw back the covers. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking. You must be exhausted. I’ll head back to my room; just let me – " He placed a hand gently on her arm to stop her from standing.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.” Her eyes widened, just a little, and he smiled softly. “I know we haven’t talked about what happened the night you got back, and we’re not going to talk about it now. We’re both half asleep. But you don’t have to leave. It’s been… A really long time since I wasn’t alone.” He moved his hand to cup her face, tracing her cheek gently with his thumb. “Just let me hold you tonight; let me know that you’re safe.”

She nodded mutely, and shifted further across the bed to make room as he undressed. He thought the lights off and climbed into the bed, simply enjoying the feel of a real mattress. After a moment, he pulled Lindsey into his arms, curling carefully around her. She was warm, and soft, and he fell asleep quickly and dreamed of impossible things.

~ Finis ~

II. Cogito

(I Think)

Major Lorne had very good intentions regarding the inevitable ‘relationship’ talk that he needed to have with Dr. Lindsey Novak. But there are sayings about good intentions. Lots of them. And, well, they’re all kind of true.

Nick woke up to the sound of an annoyed voice emanating from his earpiece. He shifted the dead-weight of the sleeping scientist sprawled across his chest, and reached for it with his right hand. After three tries he finally managed to grab it. “This had better be good, I just got back in-city five hours ago.”

There was an awkward pause. “Um, Major Lorne?”

“Yes. This is Major Lorne. Is the city burning?”

“Well, no.”

“Is there imminent threat of mass casualties?”

“No, but –“

“Then I’m officially off-duty for the next ten hours. I’d really appreciate it if you would call Colonel Sheppard. Or Captain Jones. Or anyone with a rank above airman if you need something military.”

He was about to take the earpiece out when the voice cleared its throat rather meaningfully and he paused. “Major, we called Dr. Novak.”

Nick’s eyes widened; he glanced down at the sleeping form that had now shifted to curl up against his side, her tank top riding up appealingly. He swallowed hard. “Oh. There must have been a mix-up.”

There was a cough that sounded suspiciously forced before whoever was on the other end answered. “Of course, Major. Does this mean the doctor will have your radio?”

He winced; this was totally going to make it around the rumor mill before he made it to breakfast, he just knew it. “I can only assume.”

“Then I apologize for disturbing you.” There was a click, and the radio disengaged. A moment later, the other earpiece on the nightstand began emitting the same voice. “Dr. Novak? Dr. Novak?”

Nick removed the earpiece and swapped it for its partner before gently shaking Lindsey’s shoulder. She woke grudgingly. “Hmm?”

“It’s for you.” He waved the earpiece in front of her blinking eyes.

When she registered the noise coming out of the earpiece, she bolted upright. “What time is it?” She looked at her watch and groaned, taking the earpiece from him gingerly. He took that as a sign that she’d overslept, and eased out of the bed to let her speak electronica in peace while he checked on Tom and started the coffee.

It seemed that the ancestors did provide small miracles occasionally; Tom was still asleep in his room, and showed no signed of waking soon. With that out of the way, Nick set about filling the French press (It was, quite honestly, one of the best things he’d ever requisitioned. There was a tap in the bathroom that provided boiling water, and it was a godsend to have access to coffee without having to drag himself down to the mess). With coffee brewing, he made his way back to the bedroom just in time to see Lindsey disappear into the bathroom chanting "Late! Late! So late!”

He glanced at his watch, 0900. So he’d possibly exaggerated the five hours. Slightly. He really hoped she hadn’t signed on for Beta shift today; he had vague memories of shutting off an alarm, and he’d be obliged to feel guilty if she was two hours late for shift. After a moment’s debate, he walked back into the living room and poured two cups of coffee, adding some of the Athosian sugar-substitute to hers and settling on the couch to wait for the inevitable blur to emerge fully dressed from the bedroom.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew she was kissing his cheek and apologizing and running out the door. He blinked, suddenly wide awake again, but before he could think of something to say the door slid closed behind her and he was alone.

* * *

A week later, at the end of a routine patrol that he’d volunteered for - Both as a chance to get some basic exercise and to prevent himself from doing permanent damaging to his tablet (They were cut off now, there would be no replacements once the carefully hoarded surpluses ran out. He kept telling himself that, but the mantra only worked for so long) – he came to a startling revelation: Lindsey Novak was a woman. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known she was female (He’d have had to be dead to miss the breasts that had been pressed against him the night that she’d shared his bed), but for some reason his brain had refused to process her as a woman - Someone worthy of sexual interest.

It had come from being forced to listen to two of his marines speculate on why, exactly, he’d been grumpier than usual. Theories ranged from Lindsey exiling him to the couch over a request involving smuggled black lingerie (Apparently the whole city really did think they had been having wild exhibitionistic sex for Hermiod’s studies on Tau’ri mating practices in exchange for special cargo privileges) to Lindsey having kicked him out of his quarters because he’d gotten her pregnant. The fact that he’d just spent a week in paperwork up to his eyeballs never entered into their discussion (And really, if he hadn’t been doing it, he’d never have believed that severing ties with Earth would require this much bureaucracy).

He would have put the whole damn platoon on KP (He knew these two weren't the only ones talking), if he’d been able to get the image of Lindsey in black lingerie out of his mind for more than the two minutes it would take to properly chew them out. As it was he simply put his head down and pretended not to have heard a thing.

It ended up being the longest patrol of his life.

* * *

From that point on, he found he couldn’t look at Lindsey and not see her in a sexual manner. It was embarrassing, because he’d spent three years as her friend, this last year practically living with her for months at a time, and this had never been a problem. Suddenly he couldn’t see her crawl under a console without getting hard, never mind when she started wriggling around to grasp something just out of reach. She wasn't beautiful in the classical sense, but there was something striking just the same.

He knew that they needed to have that talk - The one about where exactly there were going with their relationship. Things were going nowhere good right now; he was coming dangerously close to blatant avoidance. He’d transferred supervision of the star-drive systems project security to Captain Jones so as to minimize chances of running into her while on shift, and he’d even taken to eating lunch in his office. When it got to the point where Tom noticed, asking why they hadn’t had a ‘family night’ lately (The term had been coined by one of the women in the drop-in center as part of a push for family units in the city to actually see each other regularly. Nick had never had the desire to correct Tom’s name for the evenings the three spent on the couch watching movies or news clips), he knew it had to stop.

Nick just wasn’t sure he could spend an hour in serious discussion with her right now, and pinning her to the couch and kissing her senseless before finding out if she really was wearing black lingerie (He was going to kill those marines. And what was he - a bad Harlequin novel? God, he missed his ability to think straight) when attempting to rationally sort out where they stood was a bad idea. In his experience, sex could solve a lot of things – None of them long term. He knew he wanted whatever he had with Lindsey to be long term. It took him close to a week to solidify his reasoning and come up with a course of action to handle the situation effectively.

It was around that point that Lindsey took matters into her own hands and dragged him into a storage closet on the East pier. It was probably one of her wisest decisions ever.

It had been frantic, and rushed, and Oh my God, good.

It was over too fast, burning bright and leaving them both shuddering against the wall. When he finally regained the ability to think with more complexity than “Good” and “Really good” and “Thank God”, it occurred to him that it was possible he’d been over-thinking the whole situation.

~ Finis ~

III. Videmur

(We Are Seen)

Nick Lorne woke to a gentle tapping on his arm. “Daddy?”

Nick groaned, and tried to roll over only to find his right arm pinned under Lindsey. He settled for turning his head and blinking. “Mm-hmm?”

"I'm hungry."

Having worked his watch free, Nick frowned at it in the low light. “Tom, it’s 0200.”

Tom shrugged. “So?”

Nick let his head hit the pillow again. “Ok, ok, give me a sec.” With a resigned sigh, he set about extricating his arm from under Lindsey (Who had a remarkable ability to sleep like the dead when she knew someone else was on-call; he’d learned that one the hard way). She muttered something indistinct; he was tempted to drag her out of bed with him, but that was the exhaustion talking. She’d been up just as late as he had; she’d waited up doing paperwork until he’d gotten home (He was supposed to be off at the end of Delta Shift. In the three months he’d been on this rotation, he’d never once gotten off before 2300).

Once he was convinced that his father was awake and moving, Tom disappeared out the door into the living room. Nick finished dragging himself out of bed, and paused to contemplate whether it was worth pulling on pants. If he was lucky, Tom would go back to bed sometime before the sun came up (Stranger things had happened; a wraith saving their lives after the destruction of the Orion, for example). Giving up that particular fantasy, Nick pulled on a pair of sweats on his way to the living room and thought the lights up to half strength.

He grabbed the fruit-of-the-month off the third tier of the shelving unit next to the window and held it up for inspection. “This work?”

Tom nodded agreeably. “Why is Lindsey in your bed?”

Nick paused, and set down the half peeled green fruit before turning to his son. “Do you remember when we sat down last month to talk about family?”

“Yup. You said Lindsey’s part of our family.” He made a face. “Already knew that.”

“That’s right.” Nick yawned, and really wished he wasn’t having this conversation on five hours of sleep. He knew if he was any more awake he’d be freaking out, but at the moment he didn’t have the energy. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to break the full-consciousness barrier by force of willpower – If he made coffee, it would wake Lindsey. She had the earlier shift; he could at least hypothetically get some sleep after he took Tom to the drop-in. “Remember how I said that she’s transferred back to the city again?”

“She said she’s not going ‘way again.” Tom looked entirely too pleased with himself at that particular fact.

“Yes, she’s in Atlantis to stay. She’s around more, so some nights she’ll be staying here when she stays with you. Just like before.”

“I remember. I’m not a baby.”

Nick frowned. “Then… Why were you asking why Lindsey’s here?”

Tom gave him a look which indicated the boy had clearly been tagging along to the science labs with Lindsey too often. It was confirmation that Dr. McKay should never have children if this was the kind of nurture influence mild proximity caused. “She used to sleep in my room.”

Nick blinked. “Oh.” Tom was jealous, at least that was where he thought this was going (Three years in, and he still found himself wishing that Tom had come with a manual. Often on a daily basis). He thought for a minute. “Um, I have a bigger bed?”

“Okay.” Tom seemed accept that without a problem, and pulled his legs up onto the couch to sit more comfortably. “Can I have my Fika now?” He looked hopefully from the fruit to his father.

Nick let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He picked up the fruit to finish peeling it. “At the desk. I don’t want this getting everywhere.”

Tom obediently jumped off the couch and crawled up into the chair behind the desk, and Nick handed him the peeled fruit. Nick shifted and let his head rest against the cushions, checking his watch. 0345. It was going to be a long morning; God, he was getting old.

* * *

As luck would have it, Tom dropped the subject entirely. He took Nick’s explanation in stride, and was far more interested in the Ancient they were learning at the drop-in than which bed Lindsey slept in. As long as she was around, Tom was happy with things. Nick should have known it was too good to be true, but at least Murphy gave him a month to breathe before striking again.

Now, Nick Lorne wasn’t a particularly sentimental man by nature. It was one of the reasons he’d gotten along so well with Lindsey from the beginning; she might have her faults, but she was an inherently practical person. That being said, he had to concede a certain fondness for a specific storage closet on the East Pier. The storage closet that was closest to the labs which had been appropriated by the Star-drive Project.

At first, it was simply the room where Lindsey had ended their silent emotional stand-off. She’d taken the initiative and upgraded things between them from ‘More-than-friends-ish’ to ‘Honest-to-God-relationship’. He’d also learned first hand that she was not, in fact, wearing black lingerie under her standard issue blue and gray tee-shirt. She wore a modified tank, with a built in bra.

Three days later, he’d learned that she did own said lingerie (She never wore it while on shift, though. Mixing the metal in an under-wire bra with electrical engineering was a bad idea. Of epic proportions), and it was even black. Of course, that evening his new shift-rotation had come through and they’d come to the unfortunate realization that they had one afternoon a week where their free-time coincided that didn’t cut into their chances to get something resembling a decent night’s sleep. Nick didn’t remember it being nearly this complicated the last time he’d been in a physical relationship.

The storage room became their sanctuary during the week, when they needed twenty minutes away. It was always faster than they wanted; there was never enough time – That was the curse of living in Atlantis. But it was always worth it, if nothing else for the one slow kiss they always shared before she left.

Nick should have realized their stolen moments would catch up with them; it was only a matter of time. There were precautions they could have taken, if he’d been thinking clearly. Should have, could have. The sentiments did him absolutely no good when Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay had come bursting through the door to find him engaging in questionable pursuits with Lindsey. At least she still had her camisole on; five minutes later and this would have been a hell of a lot messier.

Colonel Sheppard finally broke the silence. “So, I, uh, guess you’re going to be wanting those larger quarters in the North Wing?”

Nick coughed, blushing. “Um… It’s not what you’re thinking, sir.”

“Of course not. I always expect to enter a storage room and find my second in command wrapped around one of the engineers.” Sheppard drawled.

Lindsey, who had managed to find her shirt and pull it on, attempted to cut in. “Colonel, I’m sure, I mean, it’s not…” She hiccupped. “Not that it would be wrong, I mean – “

“Oh, no. Please tell me you are not using my perfectly good storage room for your failed romantic liaisons.” Lindsey reddened, and Nick couldn’t really think up an intelligent reply. He grabbed his shirt, and figured that their silence spoke loud enough for both of them. McKay glared at them, and Nick felt strangely like a reprobate school child. “No. Out! This is our storage closet! We claimed it two years ago. You children find somewhere else to have your fun. This is going to require bleach.”

Sheppard smirked, and Nick was suddenly seeing images he never wanted to consider (In Technicolor, no less). There were things one was never meant to know about one’s CO. “We’ll just be going now…” He trailed off hopefully. After another moment of scrutiny, Sheppard stepped to the side and the door slid open again. Lindsey was out the door like a shot, long gone by the time Sheppard had clapped him on the back and said they’d ‘Talk later’. Nick prayed that it was secret code for “We shall never speak of this again. Ever.”

After the door slid shut behind him, Nick glanced down the hall to ensure that he was alone before slumping against the wall. Sheppard would probably let it slide, but he’d have to be careful for a while. That meant they were down to once a week. He let his head fall back and hit the wall, not even noticing the pain. Three days to a shift-break. He’d gone three years after David died, this shouldn’t be that hard; it wasn’t even like he was twenty-three anymore.

There was really only one solution. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and set off for the gym to hunt down Ronon. There were few things in life a good workout couldn’t make better, and right now he could really use some distraction.

~ Finis ~

IV. Fidelis

(Faithful)

For years after it happened, Major Lorne was never actually sure how much the painkillers had affected his judgment when he asked Lindsey Novak to marry him. He couldn’t claim that they’d caused the actual proposal; he’d been off the really good stuff for two weeks by the time that happened. But it was a definite factor in the initial concept, he was sure of it. Well, reasonably sure. It had been a really blurry week – Images of Lindsey’s pale face and the feel of Tom’s small hands overlapped with dreams of death when he tried to recall specifics.

It had been a close call, far closer than anything he remembered since transferring to the city. A slightly higher grade of steel or two inches to the left and everything would have been over. It was a sobering thought; he’d avoided looking at the risks that came with leading an off-world team any more than he had to, because they weren’t pretty. He’d spent two weeks after David’s death in a subdued panic attack over becoming a single parent; when it was over, he’d buried everything that went with it (There was no point living his life in fear of ‘What if’. Things were what they were). Three years had passed, and he’d been lucky. Now he had to face the fact that luck might have an expiration date.

Lorne was confined to quarters for two weeks following the mission to M2C-598, and he was shocked to realize how lonely they were. With his ACL just this side of surgery, Dr. Joseph (Their resident orthopedic surgeon) had ordered a full two weeks of restricted use. If he hadn’t had twenty-five stitches in his chest, Lorne might have been able to swing crutches; as it was, he was confined to bed & desk duty until the stitches came out. Since it had been spent incrementally stepping down from narcotics, the first week was over soon enough; by the end of the second week, he was focusing well enough to read reports and began clearing the colonel’s paperwork backlog (Again). Sheppard was restricting his access, though; there was never more than four hours worth of work in the ‘to do’ folder on the shared server. The extra time gave him an opportunity to think about things he’d been avoiding far too long.

Every time he hobbled into the bathroom or dropped his stylus, he was reminded of just why he was on restricted duty. His stitches would pull, or his knee would buckle, and he came to the unhappy realization that there was a marked different in rebound time between being twenty-something and thirty-something. And he was realist enough to know that even being ten years younger wouldn’t have helped if the arrow had penetrated any deeper than the rib it had lodged in. Lorne had seen men fall in battle, seen them vanish into Wraith darts or keel over from unknown diseases. He’d seen it and kept going; you didn’t stop to wonder ‘What if that had been me?’ – If you did, you died.

He had come to terms with his own mortality in Atlantis within the first year; they all had. But now his mortality, made painfully clear by what should have been a routine trade mission, carried a new significance. If he died, what happened to Tom?

It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to consider too deeply, even when he’d been coming to terms with his status as the first single parent in Atlantis. He wasn’t leaving, and he couldn’t resign his position, so that was that. Then the news had come down about the artificial ATA gene and how he could spend years in Antarctica or he could request permanent transfer. There had been nothing to consider, and he’d signed the permanent transfer papers without a second thought. But now, suddenly Atlantis seemed just as strange and dangerous as she had when he’d first arrived. Lindsey had noticed his quiet mood, but she’d dropped the topic at his request.

By the time Lorne was back on light duty (Light, meaning he had the pleasure of navigating the corridors to Sheppard’s office, spending six hours a day doing paperwork, then navigating back to his own quarters), he had come to a tentative – if obvious – solution. It would be a simple enough matter to have Lindsey added to Tom’s official records as a second legal guardian.

It turned out, it wasn’t quite that simple.

“Major, may I speak with you?”

Lorne had looked up, startled, to find Dr. Weir standing in his doorway. “Of course, Dr. Weir.” She waved him off when he moved to stand, and he sank back into his chair gratefully. “What can I do for you?”

She pursed her lips. “I think this is one of those times where I call you Nick, and you call me Elizabeth.”

“O…k…” He shot her an inquisitive look; they’d never been that informal outside of the bi-weekly meetings of the Atlantis Acquisitions and Procurements Committee.

She slid into the seat across from him. “I received your request for guardianship papers this morning, and I wanted to talk to you about them.”

Lorne sat up straighter, concerned. “I just want to be sure that if something happens to me, Tom will be raised by someone who knows him. I haven’t spoken with my relatives in some time, and I don’t know what kind of reception he would find with them.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, but it also brings me to the purpose of my visit.” She took a deep breath, obviously collecting her thoughts. “We’re still establishing legal precedent here on Atlantis, on everything from next-of-kin and marriage policies to potentially regulating the black market. You’ll have no trouble transferring custodial rights to Dr. Novak – I’m assuming she’s the second individual?” He nodded. It wasn’t as if they weren’t living together. “However, when we reopen ties with Earth things may become more complicated.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “Both you and Dr. Novak are US citizens; that means even if Atlantis does enter negotiations as an independent legal entity, you’re going to stay on the books as US citizens until this is all sorted out. In most cases this wouldn’t be a concern, but should you die it could get messy. Adoption is a tricky process in the US legal system; I looked into it when I first received your request just to ensure that any paperwork we file will still be valid back on Earth. To be blunt? You’re looking at a serious headache’s worth of paperwork.”

He shifted, and winced as his knee reminded him he’d missed his meds at lunch. “So are you recommending against it?”

She shook her head. “Not at all, I just want you to know what you’re getting into.” She paused, and he realized that the expression on her face was uncertainty. “There is another option. Well, a modification, rather. The paperwork streamlines considerably when the applicant is a spouse of one of the child’s biological parents.”

He couldn’t have heard her right. “A… spouse? As in married, ma’am?” When in doubt, fall back on courtesy (Especially when your boss heads for left field and doesn’t appear batshit crazy).

“Yes. I don’t mean to imply that it’s the only option, but it would make the legal side of things a good deal smoother. The standard process is perfectly viable in a case like yours; it’s merely more complex. I felt compelled to make you aware of your choices. Either an Athosian Bonding Ceremony or a traditional Earth wedding in the culture of your choice would be legally acceptable, as would a civil -” She was interrupted by her earpiece, and he hoped his relief wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was. She stood with an apologetic smile. “Of course, sergeant. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Colonel Sheppard’s team?”

She grinned ruefully, but didn’t seem overly concerned (And she wasn’t sprinting out the door), so he took it as a good sign. “Who else? I have to head up to the gate room, but I want you to consider what I said. I’ve emailed you the pertinent legal documentation. Let me know when you come to a decision.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

She nodded, and left him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The issue came up a few days later, almost by accident. He’d been curled around her, studying the freckles she’d developed on her shoulders from her time in the sun with the stick-ball league, when it had slipped out.

“So I was talking to Dr. Weir the other day, and I think we should get married.”

He felt her tense, and mentally kicked himself. This was on that short little list of ‘Things we don’t discuss,’ though he was pretty sure neither of them knew how it got there. They’d been playing a very careful game of ‘this works, let’s not mess with it’ for the last several months and it seemed to be working. He was totally blaming the pain meds for his inability to keep his mouth shut.

She shifted, and turned to face him. “Um, what?”

“Married. Well, legally at least. It would make the whole adoption thing easier, and the more I think about it the more I like the idea.”

She cinched the sheet up over her breasts and he tried not to wince as she sat up. “We’re going to try this again. Possibly with visual aids, because I think I would remember if we’d discussed things like this. I mean, I know I get distracted, but this is bad even for me.”

He shifted onto his back, and brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “No, you’re right. I’ve been thinking about it since the accident, but I didn’t want to bother you with it until I was back on active duty. I wasn’t sure how to ask; you’ve given up a lot for me and Tom, and I didn’t want to presume anything.”

She sighed. “Nick, you’re asking now. Just spit it out, I’ve got to be up for Beta shift.”

He set his hand back down in the warm space she’d so recently been lying in. “I’ve requested papers to give you guardianship of Tom if anything happens to me. It probably won’t, but I want to be prepared just in case. And when I asked Dr. Weir about it, she said that we’d have a much easier time with a legal adoption when we renew ties with Earth if we’re married. So, um, what do you say?”

She rolled her eyes and lay back down, settling against him again. “When you put it in such romantic terms, how can I say no?”

He blinked. “Really? Are you sure you don’t want to take some time or something?”

An elbow impacted just below his ribs as she shifted to make herself more comfortable. “Nick, you seem to be of the impression that I’m committing some act of martyrdom here. I might not be a marine, but I’m perfectly capable of making my opinions known when I don’t like something. I chose to transfer when the secession happened. I chose to jump you in that closet on the East Pier. Hell, I chose to help with Tom, back when David died. You didn’t make me do any of those things. Now, I choose to accept your proposal. Do you understand?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I… Yeah, I do.”

“Good!” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Now, if that’s settled, one of us is going to have to be up and actually report to shift at a reasonable hour.”

He nodded, and thought the lights the rest of the way off. In the darkness, he found her hand and squeezed gently. He felt her smile against his skin, and wondered if anything about their lives would ever be normal.

~ Finis ~

V. Tres

(Three)

Attempt # 1

Given their history, Major Nick Lorne should have known his wedding to Dr. Lindsey Novak wouldn’t go off without a hitch. It had factored into what most would call pre-wedding jitters. However, this was a bit ridiculous.

“You’re doing what??”

Lindsey’s voice was harried. “I know, I know, wedding. But the desalinization tanks in the North Wing blew out, and now it’s flooded the waste reclamation systems and they need everyone with electrical engineering experience up here. We can’t afford to let any of the storage rooms flood.”

Nick cringed. “I get the picture. I’ll let Colonel Sheppard know I won’t be needing the day off after all. You, uh, need any help over there?”

“No, no, no – Sergeant Malkins, you don’t want to touch that!” There was a crashing sound, audible through the headset. “I have to go. I’ll try to meet you for dinner, if we’ve gotten enough done.”

“Right...” She tapped off before he could finish the thought. He looked around the bedroom, sighed, and headed for the shower. It was going to be a long day, he could just tell.

* * *

They didn’t actually end up losing any supplies, but a full room of dry-goods needed 3 weeks of ventilation before being considered usable, and Nick made damn sure he never got issued pants from storage room #2.

Attempt #2

The beeping of his headset woke Nick Lorne out of a solid sleep. He fumbled for it, finally managing a solid grasp on his fourth try. “Lorne.” He blinked at his watch. 0600. He moved to stand, but then remembered that Lindsey was staying with Cadman for the night. Cadman had started in about how it was bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding; while he hadn’t seen the point, it wasn’t like they needed more bad luck at this point. Not if their last attempt, three weeks ago, was any indication.

“Major, we’ve got a situation in the East Pier science labs.” Lieutenant Chun’s voice sounded higher than normal, but that might have been the lack of sleep. Five hours. He’d been off-shift for five hours. Nick wanted to scream.

“You are aware I’m supposed to be off today?” For the week.

“Yes, sir. However, Colonel Sheppard is off world, and the situation can’t wait.”

He groaned and threw back the blanket, grabbing the first pair of pants he saw as he crossed the room. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, Lieutenant. Lorne out.”

Dressed and as awake as he was getting without time for coffee, Nick made his way into Tom’s room and roused the sleeping child. If it was an incident on the East Pier, that meant Lindsey’s division. He’d leave Tom at the drop-in on his way, assuming he ever got him to wake up.

* * *

So the scientists had set off ill-advised Ancient Device #438 (According to Dr. Yang’s eidetic memory). It would have been more surprising if they hadn’t.

Of course, no one really expected it to coat two physicists, one chemist, and an unfortunate marine with J-ello. Especially not J-ello that was 6 inches thick, and a variety of colors. Lorne spent about five minutes attempting to get over the flashbacks to the one D&D game he’d attended while at the Academy at the behest of a rather attractive sophomore at UC Colorado Springs. He hadn’t been sure he was lucid then, either.

One of the biologists had already declared the substance mostly-harmless by the time Lorne was paying enough attention to follow her animated hand motions. Lindsey was apparently in one of the back rooms, trying to sort out what they’d been working on along with Dr. Zelenka – Some interface had blown a gasket and sent power through a set of formerly unused circuits or something. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that “mostly harmless” apparently only applied to those inside of it. The substance was threatening to eat through the floor in the room currently holding those affected.

It was going to be a very long day. Muttering a curse under his breath, Nick tapped his headset. “Dr. Weir? I need to cancel that request for leave…”

Attempt #3

A week after failed-matrimonial-attempt #2, Lindsey was still sleeping in Cadman’s quarters (Nick was reasonably sure this was payback for proposing in the middle of the night and not apologizing later, but she hadn’t actually said anything. He’d been debating investing in some serious chocolate, but it kept getting pushed further down his “To Do” list). On the bright side, they would have had to put the wedding off anyway since the Athosian Elder who’d volunteered to perform the ceremony had come down with the flu.

Nick had given up on any hope what-so-ever of actually wrangling a week of leave for both of them at the same time, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t at least getting her to move back in sometime before the next solar year. When Tom asked if they were fighting, and Nick hadn’t honestly been able to answer, he decided to take a lesson from history.

The next afternoon, Nick took an early lunch and made his way to the East Pier. Aside from any active avoidance, Lindsey had been pulling 21 hour shifts, so there was no question where she’d be. When he entered her lab, she was hunched over her tablet and rubbing her eyes. Without a word, he took her by the arm and escorted her to the nearest transporter. She seemed to wake up when the doors slid shut after he pressed the “Hold Key”.

“Um, Nick? Where are we going? I have work, and –“

He cut her off with a kiss, and couldn’t help smiling at the adorably dazed expression on her face when he pulled back. She made an unhappy noise and raised a hand to pull him down to her again, but he resisted. “I’ve missed you.”

“Mmm.” She settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Do you still want to get married? I mean, after this whole mess?” His voice was quiet, and he knew it was rougher than usual.

She pulled away, looking at him curiously. “Of course. I said yes, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but…” He trailed off at her expression. “Right. So, um, what if we just do it? Go up to Weir’s office and sign some papers and see if we can forget about everything else?”

Her face lit up, and he was reminded just how beautiful she was when she wanted to be. “Yes. Just… yes.”

He grinned in response, settling one arm around her waist as he reached behind her to tap the ‘Hold Release” and select the Gate Room.

* * *

“You want a civil ceremony now?”

Nick glanced at Lindsey, then back at Dr. Weir. “Um, yes ma’am?”

Dr. Weir sighed and glanced at her watch. “I have five minutes until my next meeting. Ten, if Chuck can stall them. Anthropology never runs late. Find me two witnesses, and I’ll pull up the appropriate forms.”

In short order the first two people they could find, Lieutenant Cadman and Sergeant Campbell, were standing in Weir’s office looking confused but willing to help. Nick didn’t blame them; this hadn’t exactly been the original plan. Even with interruptions left and right – Three calls for Dr. Weir (Dr. McKay (Complaining about Colonel Sheppard), Dr. Beckett (Requesting a copy of the Geneva Convention), and Dr. Killian (The head of anthropology, demanding to know why the door was locked)), one for Nick (Colonel Sheppard, who was asking about the new storage room numbering system for the ammo), and one for Lindsey (Dr. Zelenka wanted to know if she’d finished locking down the J-Ello Lab), they still managed to be done before the scheduled meeting.

There had been hugs all around, a little odd since neither of the newly-weds actually knew Sgt. Campbell as more than a familiar face, and then Lindsey had dragged Nick out of the office with an announcement that they were taking the rest of the day off.

Five minutes after returning to their quarters, the power failed.

Nick thought seriously about crying.

~ Finis ~

V.2 - Married Life

Major Lorne met Colonel Sheppard on the first floor of the residential wing five minutes after the power failed. It was mid-day, so at least the hallways weren’t dark. If this had happened at night, it would have been much worse. On a normal day, Lorne wouldn’t have minded the light duty. Of course, this wasn’t a normal day. He was, in fact, supposed to be on leave for the afternoon. This could possibly have affected his mood.

“No offense, sir, but what the hell happened?” They were standing outside one of the many science labs that made up the lowest level of the residential wing, waiting to escort the repair teams wherever they needed to go.

Sheppard shrugged. “Don’t know. Rodney’s been too busy yelling at people for me to get an answer.”

Lorne leaned back, letting his head hit the wall with a dull ‘thunk’. “Do I really need to be here?” He knew he sounded all of four years old.

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “You got somewhere else to be? Inventory?”

Lorne sighed. “You know that meeting you interrupted half an hour ago?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, sir, I uh… Lindsey and I got married. Was kind of hoping to have the afternoon off, since the week of leave just isn’t happening.”

Sheppard snorted. “That’s what this is about? You should have just said so; this isn’t an invasion-level threat, just a glorified black-out from what I can tell.”

Lorne shrugged. “Lindsey’s on first-call for electronics, they’d need her here regardless. I might as well be doing something.”

Sheppard adjusted his P-90, and stood up straighter. “Well, look on the bright side. The first three times Rodney and I got married? We were either in custody or running for our lives. At least she’s off-shift when this is over.” The door opened, and McKay stepped out, already mid-complaint. Sheppard shot Lorne an amused glance, and then guided McKay down the hall towards the next set of labs.

When the door opened again, it was Lindsey. She smiled apologetically, and the exhaustion from earlier in the day had returned. “Hey, how you doing?”

She shrugged, and gratefully stepped into the hug he offered. “It’s going to be a long day, Nick. If we’re lucky, we can have partial power back up by 26, maybe 2400 hours. Once that happens, we can start working in shifts on the repairs.”

Nick stroked her back. “So… 2400?”

“Mmmhm, yeah.” She nuzzled against his neck, and for once he didn’t look around to see if anyone else was in the hallway as he stroked her back - He could do this now.

“So if I come down here and drag you away at 2400, I’m not going to have kicking and screaming?”

“Mmm…”

“Lindsey?”

“I’ll try to be done by 2400.” She sighed, and pulled back. “I should probably get back to work. Otherwise we’ll never be done.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Need an escort?”

“No, no, I’m not going anywhere. I’m, uh, doing circuitry analysis and repair.” She paused as the door opened, looking back over her shoulder. “Dr. Z might need one, though, if you want to hang around?”

“I’ll go see what I can do.” He motioned her to get going. “Back to work, you’re moving back in tonight if we have to do it at 0200. I’m sure Lt. Cadman would prefer earlier.”

Lindsey giggled. “Understood.”

After the door shut behind her, he tapped his radio. “Dr. Zelenka? I hear you need an escort…”

~ Finis ~

VI. Posterum

(The Future)

Major Nick Lorne knew something was up when he walked into his quarters and found Lindsey preparing a pot of tea. He tossed his jacket onto the couch and came up behind her, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. The silence attested to Tom’s current state of unconsciousness, so this was their time. “Everything all right?”

“Mm-hmm.” She shrugged him off, and he frowned as she went about her preparations.

Nick moved and took one of the seats at the table by the window. “You want to talk about it?”

“In a minute.” She finished with the tea, and set it in front of him, returning to gather mugs before sitting across from him. She poured the tea, concentrating intently on the actions, and his concern increased. When she passed him a mug, he caught her hand before she could withdraw and she finally met his eyes. “I, uh… I think we should talk.”

Nick nodded slowly. “Okay…” He waited, because he had absolutely no clue what this was about (And he had a slightly higher self-preservation instinct than Colonel Sheppard).

Lindsey took a sip of her tea, obviously marshalling her thoughts. When she finally spoke, the words came out in a rush, and were directed into her mug. “What do you think about kids?”

He blinked; that was definitely not what he had been expecting. “Um, is this rhetorical?” She shook her head, and he revised his original answer. “I have one, Lindsey. I certainly don’t mind them. What is this about?”

She sighed and visibly relaxed. “One of Tom’s new friends has a younger brother, and he asked about it today. It got me thinking, about a lot of things. You don’t talk about your past; although no one here really does, I guess. Did you have siblings?”

Nick stared morosely into his mug; he took a long sip before answering. “Yeah.” As the silence stretched, he realized that she was waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “Two. Sam, my brother, is five years older; Kim, my sister, is another four years younger. I haven’t seen them since I went to the Academy, except for the funerals.”

“Your parents, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, have an older sister Jane. I’ve mentioned her before. We’re not exactly close, but you know…” Lindsey shrugged. “She’s family.”

“Right. Not that I mind the sharing, exactly, because I’m all for painful family histories. But does this actually have anything to do with what you needed to talk about?” Lindsey worked best when you got straight to the point, and they both knew it at this point. Otherwise she tended to ramble, and he was tired.

“Oh. Um, siblings. Generally a good thing. I was talking to Kate, and she said that any more than six years between kids and they don’t develop like siblings, more like 2 only children. So I was wondering what you thought about maybe having another child.”

Nick choked on his tea.

“I know; it’s not really a good time what with the break from Earth, and we’ve only been married a few months. But I thought we should talk about it while it’s still an option for Tom, you know? I, uh, understand if you don’t think it’s a good idea.” She was blushing, and had that acutely embarrassed look on her face that was simultaneously cute and painful to see. Any minute, he expected her to start hiccupping. He tried desperately to pull his brain out of the dead stop he’d hit somewhere around ‘another child’.

“Um… Wait. Wait.” Okay. That wasn’t quite coherent, but it was something. He took a deep breath and tried again. “This is, um –“ He was saved from a potentially disastrous off-the-cuff and divorce-inducing response by Tom wandering in from his bedroom.

“Daddy?”

* * *

When she brought the topic up again the next week, he gave her a rather well-reasoned yes and promptly forgot all about it.

After all, she’d been making noises about six year gaps. Tom was all of three; six years was a long way off.

* * *

Out of sight, out of mind is a wonderful theory. It’s also an affliction that most of the population of Atlantis suffers regarding anything short of a space-travel capable enemy. Nick Lorne wasn’t immune, especially when the city kept trying to blow itself up (So, possibly the city had help on attempts 1, 3, 4, and 6. Attempts 2 and 5 were totally a screwball AI in cahoots with the physics department).

There were weeks where Nick and Lindsey barely even saw each other in passing, never mind anything more interesting. They managed to wrangle two days of leave at the end of October (It involved begging, pleading, and some serious favors cashed in with Teyla to secure Athosian baby-sitting for the duration); after Tom was settled on the mainland they locked the doors, turned off their radios, and didn’t leave their quarters for two days. It was the closest they’d managed to come to a honeymoon in three months of marriage.

Then Sheppard and McKay decanted their daughter, and Nick found himself on-call for four weeks solid. He could sympathize, his life had certainly changed when Tom had been born, but by the time day 22 rolled around he was about ready to move to the mainland. Lindsey wasn’t helping, either. She’d managed to come down with what she jokingly called Space Mono, but refused to bother the infirmary staff. She wasn’t missing her shifts, but she was spending all of her down-time sleeping. Of course, Nick couldn’t exactly complain – Whenever he managed to make it back to their rooms he was doing the same thing.

When he came home one evening and found her being violently ill, he decided that it had gone on long enough. He dropped an anxious Tom off at the drop-in, and dragged a grumbling Lindsey down to the infirmary. Either this was cafeteria food-poisoning (It wasn’t at all inconceivable; they’d had six marines down with a bad reaction to the new grain they’d started using a week ago), or it was another symptom from whatever was wiping her out. Either way, he wasn’t letting it stew. Not reporting mostly-harmless symptoms had cost him David; he wasn’t going to risk losing Lindsey too.

* * *

Three hours, two blood tests, and one stern lecture on dietary considerations later, Nick and Lindsey were back in their quarters. Nick was beginning to wonder if there was some kind of memo he’d missed back in his first year in the city Six Simple Ways to See Fatherhood Coming. He was sure Sheppard never had this problem (Although it was very possible Sheppard was currently cursing his very conscious decision to pro-create. Or at least to pro-create with McKay).

They eventually ended up on the couch, Lindsey’s head in his lap while he ran his fingers through her hair and tried to make sense of this new revelation. He had vague memories of agreeing that another child might not be a bad thing, but he was relatively certain they hadn’t talked about timeframes. At all.

“I didn’t think it would happen this quickly.” Lindsey’s voice was so soft, he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard her until she shifted to look up at him.

“What?”

She shrugged the shoulder not currently resting against his thigh. “The, um, the baby.” He blinked down at her. “I thought it would take a year or two, that’s why I didn’t mention going off the patch. Although I, um, assumed you’d noticed.”

He leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Not so much, no. I had other things on my mind that ‘weekend’.”

She smiled in memory. “Mmm. Yeah, I guess you did.” Her expression grew serious again. “Jane, my sister, she got married right after her bachelor’s; and decided she wanted kids after the masters. It was four years before my niece was born; I kind of assumed it would be like that for me, too.”

He let his hand slip down to rest over hers, cradling their as of yet unseen child. “We’re in Atlantis, right? City of Myth and Legend. Anything can happen here.”

“Hmm.” She nodded, closing her eyes and wriggling around until she was comfortable.

“Lindsey.” She opened her eyes inquisitively, and he paused before continuing. “I, uh, I am happy about this. It’s just a surprise, you know? Just give me a little time.”

“Mmm-kay.” She closed her eyes again, and was asleep in moments.

While she slept, Nick pondered the changes in his life over the past year. They had lost Earth, lost men and women both in the city and in the field; fully half of their trading partners had threatened to pull out of their agreed upon treaties. For all that, Nick couldn’t imagine thing any differently. There was something to be said for living in a city filled with impossible dreams.

~ Finis ~