07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: Day In, Day Out (Lorne/Parrish; PG-13)"

Title: Day In, Day Out
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Lorne/Parrish
Rating: PG-13
Words: About 3200
Summary: Lorne is a precise man.
Notes: Insanely huge thanks to lyrstzha for her fabulous beta read and encouragement. Also, I'd like to thank casspeach for letting me use her first names for Lorne and Parrish.

No one has ever accused Nick Lorne of being imprecise. He keeps track of almost everything, at all times. Ammo, personnel, duty rosters, meetings, missions, mission reports – they're all there, mental lists of things needed, people on and off duty, injuries, tasks completed and not completed. Every day, broken down into categories to be worked through.

Counting days and compartmentalization. He tells himself that they're ways to stay sane when you're stationed in another galaxy overrun with hungry aliens.

*

Nick meets Dr. Parrish on Day 11. It's not the first time they've seen each other, but it's their first real conversation – brief and polite, after Nick gets drafted to move soil, plants, and microscopes from one botany lab to another.

"Sorry," Parrish says, as he hands him another armload of plants. "I know this isn't your job."

"Didn't stop you from grabbing me out of the hall," Nick grunts, balancing a tray of seedlings with something large and unwieldy in a pot.

"Were you busy?" Parrish's brow furrows slightly, even though he's not really looking at Nick. He's staring at a large collection of plants to Nick's left, like he's trying to figure out if Nick can take just one more pot.

"No," Nick replies, and makes a quick – and careful – retreat out of the room.

He's not even sure if Parrish notices him leaving.

*

Day 14 starts with a routine survey – plants, plants, and more plants, Nick thinks to himself, wondering if he should put Parrish on a leash.

It's dark out, and the man is apparently easily distracted. And Nick is fairly certain that by the end of the day, he'll be lugging plants around again.

Maybe this isn't what he'd imagined himself doing, but it's amusing to listen to Parrish's exclamations, even if every instance of "Look at that!" or "Major!" makes him tense up and prepare to fire. Visibility is poor, he's in an unknown area, the plant life could be hiding anything, and even though the planet's been cleared for science missions, Nick wants to tell Parrish to keep it down, stay low, be careful.

Still, he gets to the point where he's almost starting to maybe enjoy Parrish's enthusiasm and the mission. It's a nice change.

And then they find the dead Wraith, which gives way to Ford, getting shot by a Wraith blast, a new alien guy, and McKay bitching about UV rays. It makes Nick appreciate Parrish and the way he brushed aside solar radiation concerns to focus on the work.

At the end of the day, they have a really, really insane, AWOL lieutenant, and a new guy in the city. Nick isn't sure what to think of him, no matter what Sheppard says.

Parrish corners Nick later, much later. "We'll have to go back," he says, mouth set in a determined line.

"What?"

"To complete the survey. I didn't get all the data that I need."

Right. The survey. "Plants in the dark."

"Exactly, Major." Parrish looks absurdly pleased at the description. Or maybe it's just the prospect of going back. "So, I assume you'll back my request to return? The planet seems safe enough."

Nick shrugs. "I guess it is." Anomalous Wraith and UV radiation aside. Maybe it's the aftereffects of being hit with the Wraith weapon speaking. "I'll back the request."

Parrish is clearly thrilled, and somehow, his excitement is intriguing.

*

Day 26 is the day of accidents and screw-ups. The day is hell, one incident piling on top of another – a recon mission gone wrong, leaving two injured and the entire team needing extraction, team five missing, one jumper crash-landing on the mainland, leaving rookies temporarily out of contact, shaken, and bruised, six Athosians missing on a hunt, a power surge in the control room and, just to top it all off, thirty-eight cases of severe respiratory distress after a pollen explosion in Botany Lab Four.

"I'm going to kick your ass back to the SGC so fast you won't remember where you earned your pathetic excuse for a degree –" McKay is yelling, when Lorne arrives at the lab. It's sealed off now, and Parrish is standing outside.

He's covered with a sickly, reddish pollen.

"—irresponsible, half-witted –"

Nick wonders if he's going to need to get comfortable and enjoy the show. McKay sounds like he's in for the long haul, and it looks like Parrish has just about had enough.

Maybe McKay sees it too, because he winds it down, takes a deep breath. "So. Everyone's OK?"

Parrish nods. "More or less. It wasn't poison. It was just too much, too quickly, and the air circulation systems couldn't handle it at first – dispersal shouldn't have ended up in the halls." He nods at the lab. "It's humid in there, more humid than was probably intended for this area, and my guess is it's interfering with system functions."

"Hmmph. You should be more careful."

"You should listen to my requests for maintenance."

"We have our priorities –"

"So do we –"

"—and you can't expect –"

"—and they're pretty simple, straightforward –"

"—to get everything you want when you want, we're running on limited resources here –"

"—I'm dealing with very delicate organisms that need precise living conditions, and if you want us to get our work done –"

Parrish and McKay abruptly stop talking over each other, and Parrish half-grins. "So, you'll listen to my requests from now on."

"And you'll try to control your plant explosions." McKay nods, turns, and walks away, moving past Nick without even a glance.

Parrish, however, turns and smiles, running a hand over his face. It smears the pollen.

Nick grins back. "You handled him well."

"The secret with Rodney," Parrish says, "is to just keep talking right over him. Believe me, it almost always works. If you start to lose hope, try bringing up cellular function – that always gets him to stop." He glances behind him at the sealed doors of the lab. "Why are you here?"

Nick shrugs. "Security check. Just in case. Most of the security personnel are either in the infirmary, out searching for the Athosians, or otherwise occupied off-world. I was free." It's not really a lie – more of an exaggeration. Team five has been found – trapped after a mudslide and currently being dug out – and many of the marines are on digging duty, while others are still searching for the hunters. Still, there are other people who could have come down to Lab Four.

Nick had volunteered, though. Standing there, watching Parrish's careful movements, the way he absently brushes at the pollen, Nick tries not to think about how hearing 'Parrish' and 'emergency' had gotten him moving, interested.

"So," he says, shaking his head to clear out the unnecessary thought. "Anything you need to tell me? Security breach issues?"

"Not unless you count the nefarious pollen-dispersing plans of a puff-flower from P3X-478." Parrish lowers his voice and leans closer. "I think it's trying to breed."

Nick can't help the grin. "Devious." He points at a red patch. "And not really subtle, either."

"Truly," Parrish says with a mournful sigh, "I'd hoped for so much more."

*

On Day 35, Parrish approaches Nick at lunch. "Busy, Major?"

He's working his way through the meal – unidentifiable greens, a passable replica of pork chops, and grainy, fresh bread – but he's not exactly busy. Sheppard's team is off-world, so mostly he's waiting for Dr. Weir's almost-inevitable request to join her in the control room because there's a problem. He's already made a mental list of who will be on the extraction team.

Until then, he's just killing time. "Nope."

"I'm going to sit here," Parrish says, as he sets his tray down and sits. "How do you like the greens?"

They could be worse, and he says as much.

Parrish looks pleased. "Fast growing, spinach-like plant from the mainland. We grew it in the lab. Well. Some of it. The rest the Athosians gave us."

"I'm eating lab food." Great.

"Isn't it delicious?" Parrish shovels a forkful into his mouth and grins. "Yum." He chews for a moment, eyes half-closed. "Needs salt. Sea salt. Not that iodized, chemical stuff."

Nick has the urge to ask if Parrish is shitting him, but he can't quite figure out what the joke might be. Instead, he nods, eyes narrowed slightly.

"You OK?" Parrish asks, after a few moments.

"Why wouldn't I be?" But something's up, even if Nick can't quite put his finger on it.

Twenty minutes later, they're still at the table. Parrish is still smiling, open and inviting. He's still talking, and Nick is still listening. He wants to keep listening, even though his leg is tapping impatiently under the table, even though he feels like this is something he shouldn't be doing.

He's pretty sure he's figured out what's going on, and this isn't a good thing. There are regs for a reason, and consequences he doesn't want to think about. Nick tells himself that getting personally involved on missions is always, always a mistake. He knows from experience, knows that compartmentalization makes everything easier.

He should get up and leave. He should make sure that Parrish never sits with him again, and stops smiling at him that way. He could even arrange things so that he never escorts Parrish on another survey mission.

But then it comes. "Major Lorne?" Dr. Weir radios. "Can you join me in the control room? One of our off-world teams has a problem."

Yeah, and he'd lay odds on which team it is. "I'll be right there," he replies, pushing away from the table. Nodding at Parrish, he says, "Gotta go."

He'll deal with this later.

*

He doesn't quite get around to dealing with it at all. By Day 49, Nick has had lunch with Parrish nine more times. They've met over dinner twice, and Parrish has invited Nick to call him David five times.

Nick can't bring himself to stop their meals together, but he draws the line at 'David'. It's too much. And Parrish is easier – if he has to ask where Parrish is, all he needs to say is 'Parrish'. If he uses David, he'd have to qualify which David, where, and that's just a waste of time.

"If you say so, Major," Parrish says, when Nick explains his reasoning.

The meals follow a comfortable, predictable pattern. Parrish talks about lab things, and breakthroughs, and personnel he works with. Nick listens, and fills Parrish in on some of his off-world missions. At first he'd given the sanitized versions, but after he made a few slips, he'd realized that Parrish has no trouble hearing about the ugly parts. His mouth always tenses, and he stops eating while he listens, but he doesn't flinch or look away.

So now Nick doesn't gloss over the missions. He talks about ambushes, frustration, panic, too much running, losing people, everything. More often than not, he catches himself staring intently at Parrish's mouth – a thin, tense line – as Nick fills him in.

When he realizes he's staring, he always reins himself in, leans back slightly.

On Day 49, Nick starts telling Parrish about P3X-449 (a mission that started out quiet and calm, and ended with Nick and the geological survey team half-drowned in a flash-flood), but Parrish cuts him off.

"No offense intended, but I heard about this down in the labs." He pauses for a moment. "So my question is," he leans closer, "got any hobbies?"

Nick thinks about it for a minute, and then figures what the hell. "Running from Wraith – hell, or Goa'uld – on an alien planet, wondering how much longer until I get to a Stargate and if I've got enough ammo?"

Parrish blinks at him, then laughs, surprised. Grinning, he says, "So. I guess we have something in common, then." He pokes experimentally at his food. "Except for the ammunition part."

"Good to have hobbies," Nick says, cracking a smile.

He likes the meals together. Likes them too much.

*

Day 57 starts off as a good day. Breakfast is warm and not actually congealing, he manages to get Ronon off balance during a training session, and for once Sheppard isn't slyly redirecting his paperwork to Nick's desk. This, Nick figures, is because the last few Sheppard team missions have been Those Missions, the ones that nobody talks about and generally pretends don't exist.

Of course, Nick knows some of the most recent details (Sheppard rescue mission #12 had yielded some amusing intel), and Sheppard knows better than to push it with the paperwork. For now.

He escorts Doctors Parrish and Brown to a friendly planet, and stands around in the sunshine while they gather samples and talk seriously with the locals about soil properties and growth rates.

"Interesting stuff?" he asks at one point, because he can't tell one botany term from another, and it's a little dull just standing around and half-listening. Brown nods rapidly, not looking away from the local medicinal plant expert.

Parrish looks up at him, grinning, and Nick doesn't want to look away. He's grateful when Parrish starts talking.

"It's exciting," Parrish says. His fingers are dark from the rich, damp soil. "You must be bored, though."

Nick shrugs. "Dealt with worse." And he has, though he doesn't talk about it.

Parrish grins at him again. "Yeah, me too. It isn't always fantastic new discoveries and digging around in the dirt, you know."

"The grinding monotony of the botanical sciences?" Nick asks, just to keep Parrish focused on him, smiling and talking, for a few more moments.

"You have no idea." Parrish laughs, and then turns back to his work.

Nick spends the next hour walking perimeter patrols and looking longingly at the lake he can see in the distance. On the shore, he can just make out people wandering, maybe fishing, maybe washing clothes. So homey, so industrious.

And then the Stargate engages.

The familiar whine of Wraith darts fills the sky, and before Nick can think about it, he's moving, yelling, taking rear guard behind the villagers, heading to the some of the hill caves where they hide. He'd kill for a 'jumper right about now, but it hadn't been considered necessary for this particular mission.

"Move," he yells to Brown as she stops, staring up at the sky. "Just move!" He grabs her by the arm, dragging her with him, shoving her inside the cave. Crouching down – behind a cover of fallen rocks and scraggly shrubbery – he surveys the flat lands below.

"Where's David?" Brown asks him quietly, after a few minutes.

Damn it. "He's not back there?" He pushes aside the sudden flash of anxiety, because there's no room for that here.

"No. I can't find him."

"I saw him running. He was ahead of us."

"One of the darts –" she stops, biting her lip.

Yeah, Nick had seen it, veering around to follow their progress, picking up a handful of villagers. "I didn't see him get taken." Damn it. He doesn't lose track of people. He never does.

The Wraith eventually leave, and villagers slowly creep back to the
flatlands, coming together for a head count. They're missing almost third of the community. It never stops.

His own tally is a third short too, but Nick keeps looking, watching the hills for new people emerging. Hoping.

When he finds Parrish, Nick's torn between grinning in relief, and tearing a strip off him for taking off with a different group of villagers. It's irrational – he shouldn't be angry – they all know you go where you have to go.

But before he has the chance to say anything, Parrish looks up, weary smile on his face. "Good to see you."

Words don't come. Instead, Nick looks Parrish up and down, notes that his hands are now stained a reddish, flaking brown. Parrish notices him staring. "Oh, it isn't mine. One of the villagers fell as he was getting to the cave. Lots of blood, but the wound was shallow."

Nodding once, Nick decides to chalk this up to a good day after all.

*

He wakes up in the infirmary, surrounded by blinding lights and the soft, incessant beeping of medical machinery. "Hey," he says, and it comes out a croak. He tries again. "Hey." It's a little better. A nurse comes over, pretty and fresh-faced, and smiles down at him. Rao, he thinks her name is.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, feeding him pieces of ice.

He feels off. Disconnected. His lips are numb, his limbs feel heavy. The only part he can feel properly is his throat, raw and sore.

"The numbness isn't surprising," she says.

"Why?" he asks around the ice.

"You were shot. Stunned with an unfamiliar weapon. Not Wraith. Congratulations, Major, you survived an ambush by unknowns."

Parts of it are coming back – noise, shots, diving for cover, bringing someone down with him. "Throat?"

"Most likely a side-effect."

"Team?" he asks, fighting back a yawn. It had been another standard botanical survey mission, he remembers that much. Planet seemed uninhabited. So much for that.

"They're fine, minor injuries only. I'm told Dr. Parrish dragged you back through the Stargate."

Huh.

His eyes close.

When he opens them again, Rao is gone, and Parrish is sitting next to the bed, feet up and tapping in time to something. He's reading, but he looks up, smiling, when Nick shifts.

"Hi. Feeling less stunned?"

Parrish's grin is wide, his eyes clear. He looks perfectly comfortable, at home, sitting next to Nick's bed. His brow creases when Nick doesn't answer right away, his mouth tensing up in a way that is becoming far too familiar.

Nick can't quite answer, because suddenly, he's feeling very stunned.

He doesn't even know what day it is.

*

Nick returns the favour on Day 98, dragging Parrish through the 'gate, firing behind them as he does. Every time, he thinks, every damn time – botanical survey missions, he's decided, need to include additional firepower. Always.

"Major?" Dr. Weir asks, as the 'gate shuts down.

"Friendlies turned hostile," Nick says, counting down the seconds until Beckett gets here. Faster, move faster, he thinks, but he doesn't say it.

"Are you –" she starts.

"Still here," Parrish says, leaning heavily against Nick. Blood is drying at the edge of his mouth, and Nick can't quite look away.

*

On Day 101, Lorne wakes up, goes for a run, eats a bland breakfast, attends two meetings (one dealing with ongoing training issues, the other about promoting an increased sense of cohesion among personnel), trains two new pilots, eats lunch alone, and finds out that Parrish has been released from the infirmary.

He heads to the Botany section, just to leave a message saying, 'Welcome back to the grind'.

Midway there, he stops, shakes his head, and heads in the opposite direction. He finds himself knocking on Parrish's door, wondering what the hell he thinks he's doing.

On Day 101, Nick ends up in Parrish's room, his pants down around his ankles. His hand is clasped over his mouth, because he's making an embarrassing amount of noise.

Afterwards, sweaty and sticky and finally splayed out on Parrish's bed, he wonders if compartmentalization maybe isn't always all it's cracked up to be. Also, this is the most interesting day he's had in months. Even with the meetings.

"I'd like to think so," Parrish mutters, shoving Nick over slightly.

End.




	Home Archives July 2007 SGA Fic: Day In, Day Out (Lorne/Parrish; PG-13) [Previous entry: "Real Genius Fic"] [Next entry: "SGA Fic: Out of Place (Firefly/SGA crossover; Simon Tam, Ronon Dex)"] 07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: Day In, Day Out (Lorne/Parrish; PG-13)" Title: Day In, Day Out Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis Pairing: Lorne/Parrish Rating: PG-13 Words: About 3200 Summary: Lorne is a precise man. Notes: Insanely huge thanks to lyrstzha for her fabulous beta read and encouragement. Also, I'd like to thank casspeach for letting me use her first names for Lorne and Parrish. No one has ever accused Nick Lorne of being imprecise. He keeps track of almost everything, at all times. Ammo, personnel, duty rosters, meetings, missions, mission reports – they're all there, mental lists of things needed, people on and off duty, injuries, tasks completed and not completed. Every day, broken down into categories to be worked through. Counting days and compartmentalization. He tells himself that they're ways to stay sane when you're stationed in another galaxy overrun with hungry aliens. * Nick meets Dr. Parrish on Day 11. It's not the first time they've seen each other, but it's their first real conversation – brief and polite, after Nick gets drafted to move soil, plants, and microscopes from one botany lab to another. "Sorry," Parrish says, as he hands him another armload of plants. "I know this isn't your job." "Didn't stop you from grabbing me out of the hall," Nick grunts, balancing a tray of seedlings with something large and unwieldy in a pot. "Were you busy?" Parrish's brow furrows slightly, even though he's not really looking at Nick. He's staring at a large collection of plants to Nick's left, like he's trying to figure out if Nick can take just one more pot. "No," Nick replies, and makes a quick – and careful – retreat out of the room. He's not even sure if Parrish notices him leaving. * Day 14 starts with a routine survey – plants, plants, and more plants, Nick thinks to himself, wondering if he should put Parrish on a leash. It's dark out, and the man is apparently easily distracted. And Nick is fairly certain that by the end of the day, he'll be lugging plants around again. Maybe this isn't what he'd imagined himself doing, but it's amusing to listen to Parrish's exclamations, even if every instance of "Look at that!" or "Major!" makes him tense up and prepare to fire. Visibility is poor, he's in an unknown area, the plant life could be hiding anything, and even though the planet's been cleared for science missions, Nick wants to tell Parrish to keep it down, stay low, be careful. Still, he gets to the point where he's almost starting to maybe enjoy Parrish's enthusiasm and the mission. It's a nice change. And then they find the dead Wraith, which gives way to Ford, getting shot by a Wraith blast, a new alien guy, and McKay bitching about UV rays. It makes Nick appreciate Parrish and the way he brushed aside solar radiation concerns to focus on the work. At the end of the day, they have a really, really insane, AWOL lieutenant, and a new guy in the city. Nick isn't sure what to think of him, no matter what Sheppard says. Parrish corners Nick later, much later. "We'll have to go back," he says, mouth set in a determined line. "What?" "To complete the survey. I didn't get all the data that I need." Right. The survey. "Plants in the dark." "Exactly, Major." Parrish looks absurdly pleased at the description. Or maybe it's just the prospect of going back. "So, I assume you'll back my request to return? The planet seems safe enough." Nick shrugs. "I guess it is." Anomalous Wraith and UV radiation aside. Maybe it's the aftereffects of being hit with the Wraith weapon speaking. "I'll back the request." Parrish is clearly thrilled, and somehow, his excitement is intriguing. * Day 26 is the day of accidents and screw-ups. The day is hell, one incident piling on top of another – a recon mission gone wrong, leaving two injured and the entire team needing extraction, team five missing, one jumper crash-landing on the mainland, leaving rookies temporarily out of contact, shaken, and bruised, six Athosians missing on a hunt, a power surge in the control room and, just to top it all off, thirty-eight cases of severe respiratory distress after a pollen explosion in Botany Lab Four. "I'm going to kick your ass back to the SGC so fast you won't remember where you earned your pathetic excuse for a degree –" McKay is yelling, when Lorne arrives at the lab. It's sealed off now, and Parrish is standing outside. He's covered with a sickly, reddish pollen. "—irresponsible, half-witted –" Nick wonders if he's going to need to get comfortable and enjoy the show. McKay sounds like he's in for the long haul, and it looks like Parrish has just about had enough. Maybe McKay sees it too, because he winds it down, takes a deep breath. "So. Everyone's OK?" Parrish nods. "More or less. It wasn't poison. It was just too much, too quickly, and the air circulation systems couldn't handle it at first – dispersal shouldn't have ended up in the halls." He nods at the lab. "It's humid in there, more humid than was probably intended for this area, and my guess is it's interfering with system functions." "Hmmph. You should be more careful." "You should listen to my requests for maintenance." "We have our priorities –" "So do we –" "—and you can't expect –" "—and they're pretty simple, straightforward –" "—to get everything you want when you want, we're running on limited resources here –" "—I'm dealing with very delicate organisms that need precise living conditions, and if you want us to get our work done –" Parrish and McKay abruptly stop talking over each other, and Parrish half-grins. "So, you'll listen to my requests from now on." "And you'll try to control your plant explosions." McKay nods, turns, and walks away, moving past Nick without even a glance. Parrish, however, turns and smiles, running a hand over his face. It smears the pollen. Nick grins back. "You handled him well." "The secret with Rodney," Parrish says, "is to just keep talking right over him. Believe me, it almost always works. If you start to lose hope, try bringing up cellular function – that always gets him to stop." He glances behind him at the sealed doors of the lab. "Why are you here?" Nick shrugs. "Security check. Just in case. Most of the security personnel are either in the infirmary, out searching for the Athosians, or otherwise occupied off-world. I was free." It's not really a lie – more of an exaggeration. Team five has been found – trapped after a mudslide and currently being dug out – and many of the marines are on digging duty, while others are still searching for the hunters. Still, there are other people who could have come down to Lab Four. Nick had volunteered, though. Standing there, watching Parrish's careful movements, the way he absently brushes at the pollen, Nick tries not to think about how hearing 'Parrish' and 'emergency' had gotten him moving, interested. "So," he says, shaking his head to clear out the unnecessary thought. "Anything you need to tell me? Security breach issues?" "Not unless you count the nefarious pollen-dispersing plans of a puff-flower from P3X-478." Parrish lowers his voice and leans closer. "I think it's trying to breed." Nick can't help the grin. "Devious." He points at a red patch. "And not really subtle, either." "Truly," Parrish says with a mournful sigh, "I'd hoped for so much more." * On Day 35, Parrish approaches Nick at lunch. "Busy, Major?" He's working his way through the meal – unidentifiable greens, a passable replica of pork chops, and grainy, fresh bread – but he's not exactly busy. Sheppard's team is off-world, so mostly he's waiting for Dr. Weir's almost-inevitable request to join her in the control room because there's a problem. He's already made a mental list of who will be on the extraction team. Until then, he's just killing time. "Nope." "I'm going to sit here," Parrish says, as he sets his tray down and sits. "How do you like the greens?" They could be worse, and he says as much. Parrish looks pleased. "Fast growing, spinach-like plant from the mainland. We grew it in the lab. Well. Some of it. The rest the Athosians gave us." "I'm eating lab food." Great. "Isn't it delicious?" Parrish shovels a forkful into his mouth and grins. "Yum." He chews for a moment, eyes half-closed. "Needs salt. Sea salt. Not that iodized, chemical stuff." Nick has the urge to ask if Parrish is shitting him, but he can't quite figure out what the joke might be. Instead, he nods, eyes narrowed slightly. "You OK?" Parrish asks, after a few moments. "Why wouldn't I be?" But something's up, even if Nick can't quite put his finger on it. Twenty minutes later, they're still at the table. Parrish is still smiling, open and inviting. He's still talking, and Nick is still listening. He wants to keep listening, even though his leg is tapping impatiently under the table, even though he feels like this is something he shouldn't be doing. He's pretty sure he's figured out what's going on, and this isn't a good thing. There are regs for a reason, and consequences he doesn't want to think about. Nick tells himself that getting personally involved on missions is always, always a mistake. He knows from experience, knows that compartmentalization makes everything easier. He should get up and leave. He should make sure that Parrish never sits with him again, and stops smiling at him that way. He could even arrange things so that he never escorts Parrish on another survey mission. But then it comes. "Major Lorne?" Dr. Weir radios. "Can you join me in the control room? One of our off-world teams has a problem." Yeah, and he'd lay odds on which team it is. "I'll be right there," he replies, pushing away from the table. Nodding at Parrish, he says, "Gotta go." He'll deal with this later. * He doesn't quite get around to dealing with it at all. By Day 49, Nick has had lunch with Parrish nine more times. They've met over dinner twice, and Parrish has invited Nick to call him David five times. Nick can't bring himself to stop their meals together, but he draws the line at 'David'. It's too much. And Parrish is easier – if he has to ask where Parrish is, all he needs to say is 'Parrish'. If he uses David, he'd have to qualify which David, where, and that's just a waste of time. "If you say so, Major," Parrish says, when Nick explains his reasoning. The meals follow a comfortable, predictable pattern. Parrish talks about lab things, and breakthroughs, and personnel he works with. Nick listens, and fills Parrish in on some of his off-world missions. At first he'd given the sanitized versions, but after he made a few slips, he'd realized that Parrish has no trouble hearing about the ugly parts. His mouth always tenses, and he stops eating while he listens, but he doesn't flinch or look away. So now Nick doesn't gloss over the missions. He talks about ambushes, frustration, panic, too much running, losing people, everything. More often than not, he catches himself staring intently at Parrish's mouth – a thin, tense line – as Nick fills him in. When he realizes he's staring, he always reins himself in, leans back slightly. On Day 49, Nick starts telling Parrish about P3X-449 (a mission that started out quiet and calm, and ended with Nick and the geological survey team half-drowned in a flash-flood), but Parrish cuts him off. "No offense intended, but I heard about this down in the labs." He pauses for a moment. "So my question is," he leans closer, "got any hobbies?" Nick thinks about it for a minute, and then figures what the hell. "Running from Wraith – hell, or Goa'uld – on an alien planet, wondering how much longer until I get to a Stargate and if I've got enough ammo?" Parrish blinks at him, then laughs, surprised. Grinning, he says, "So. I guess we have something in common, then." He pokes experimentally at his food. "Except for the ammunition part." "Good to have hobbies," Nick says, cracking a smile. He likes the meals together. Likes them too much. * Day 57 starts off as a good day. Breakfast is warm and not actually congealing, he manages to get Ronon off balance during a training session, and for once Sheppard isn't slyly redirecting his paperwork to Nick's desk. This, Nick figures, is because the last few Sheppard team missions have been Those Missions, the ones that nobody talks about and generally pretends don't exist. Of course, Nick knows some of the most recent details (Sheppard rescue mission #12 had yielded some amusing intel), and Sheppard knows better than to push it with the paperwork. For now. He escorts Doctors Parrish and Brown to a friendly planet, and stands around in the sunshine while they gather samples and talk seriously with the locals about soil properties and growth rates. "Interesting stuff?" he asks at one point, because he can't tell one botany term from another, and it's a little dull just standing around and half-listening. Brown nods rapidly, not looking away from the local medicinal plant expert. Parrish looks up at him, grinning, and Nick doesn't want to look away. He's grateful when Parrish starts talking. "It's exciting," Parrish says. His fingers are dark from the rich, damp soil. "You must be bored, though." Nick shrugs. "Dealt with worse." And he has, though he doesn't talk about it. Parrish grins at him again. "Yeah, me too. It isn't always fantastic new discoveries and digging around in the dirt, you know." "The grinding monotony of the botanical sciences?" Nick asks, just to keep Parrish focused on him, smiling and talking, for a few more moments. "You have no idea." Parrish laughs, and then turns back to his work. Nick spends the next hour walking perimeter patrols and looking longingly at the lake he can see in the distance. On the shore, he can just make out people wandering, maybe fishing, maybe washing clothes. So homey, so industrious. And then the Stargate engages. The familiar whine of Wraith darts fills the sky, and before Nick can think about it, he's moving, yelling, taking rear guard behind the villagers, heading to the some of the hill caves where they hide. He'd kill for a 'jumper right about now, but it hadn't been considered necessary for this particular mission. "Move," he yells to Brown as she stops, staring up at the sky. "Just move!" He grabs her by the arm, dragging her with him, shoving her inside the cave. Crouching down – behind a cover of fallen rocks and scraggly shrubbery – he surveys the flat lands below. "Where's David?" Brown asks him quietly, after a few minutes. Damn it. "He's not back there?" He pushes aside the sudden flash of anxiety, because there's no room for that here. "No. I can't find him." "I saw him running. He was ahead of us." "One of the darts –" she stops, biting her lip. Yeah, Nick had seen it, veering around to follow their progress, picking up a handful of villagers. "I didn't see him get taken." Damn it. He doesn't lose track of people. He never does. The Wraith eventually leave, and villagers slowly creep back to the flatlands, coming together for a head count. They're missing almost third of the community. It never stops. His own tally is a third short too, but Nick keeps looking, watching the hills for new people emerging. Hoping. When he finds Parrish, Nick's torn between grinning in relief, and tearing a strip off him for taking off with a different group of villagers. It's irrational – he shouldn't be angry – they all know you go where you have to go. But before he has the chance to say anything, Parrish looks up, weary smile on his face. "Good to see you." Words don't come. Instead, Nick looks Parrish up and down, notes that his hands are now stained a reddish, flaking brown. Parrish notices him staring. "Oh, it isn't mine. One of the villagers fell as he was getting to the cave. Lots of blood, but the wound was shallow." Nodding once, Nick decides to chalk this up to a good day after all. * He wakes up in the infirmary, surrounded by blinding lights and the soft, incessant beeping of medical machinery. "Hey," he says, and it comes out a croak. He tries again. "Hey." It's a little better. A nurse comes over, pretty and fresh-faced, and smiles down at him. Rao, he thinks her name is. "How are you feeling?" she asks, feeding him pieces of ice. He feels off. Disconnected. His lips are numb, his limbs feel heavy. The only part he can feel properly is his throat, raw and sore. "The numbness isn't surprising," she says. "Why?" he asks around the ice. "You were shot. Stunned with an unfamiliar weapon. Not Wraith. Congratulations, Major, you survived an ambush by unknowns." Parts of it are coming back – noise, shots, diving for cover, bringing someone down with him. "Throat?" "Most likely a side-effect." "Team?" he asks, fighting back a yawn. It had been another standard botanical survey mission, he remembers that much. Planet seemed uninhabited. So much for that. "They're fine, minor injuries only. I'm told Dr. Parrish dragged you back through the Stargate." Huh. His eyes close. When he opens them again, Rao is gone, and Parrish is sitting next to the bed, feet up and tapping in time to something. He's reading, but he looks up, smiling, when Nick shifts. "Hi. Feeling less stunned?" Parrish's grin is wide, his eyes clear. He looks perfectly comfortable, at home, sitting next to Nick's bed. His brow creases when Nick doesn't answer right away, his mouth tensing up in a way that is becoming far too familiar. Nick can't quite answer, because suddenly, he's feeling very stunned. He doesn't even know what day it is. * Nick returns the favour on Day 98, dragging Parrish through the 'gate, firing behind them as he does. Every time, he thinks, every damn time – botanical survey missions, he's decided, need to include additional firepower. Always. "Major?" Dr. Weir asks, as the 'gate shuts down. "Friendlies turned hostile," Nick says, counting down the seconds until Beckett gets here. Faster, move faster, he thinks, but he doesn't say it. "Are you –" she starts. "Still here," Parrish says, leaning heavily against Nick. Blood is drying at the edge of his mouth, and Nick can't quite look away. * On Day 101, Lorne wakes up, goes for a run, eats a bland breakfast, attends two meetings (one dealing with ongoing training issues, the other about promoting an increased sense of cohesion among personnel), trains two new pilots, eats lunch alone, and finds out that Parrish has been released from the infirmary. He heads to the Botany section, just to leave a message saying, 'Welcome back to the grind'. Midway there, he stops, shakes his head, and heads in the opposite direction. He finds himself knocking on Parrish's door, wondering what the hell he thinks he's doing. On Day 101, Nick ends up in Parrish's room, his pants down around his ankles. His hand is clasped over his mouth, because he's making an embarrassing amount of noise. Afterwards, sweaty and sticky and finally splayed out on Parrish's bed, he wonders if compartmentalization maybe isn't always all it's cracked up to be. Also, this is the most interesting day he's had in months. Even with the meetings. "I'd like to think so," Parrish mutters, shoving Nick over slightly. End.