07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: After Lorne gets out of the Tower (Lorne/Parrish; PG)"

Title: After Lorne gets out of the Tower
Pairing: Lorne/Parrish
Rating: PG
Summary: Snapshot sequel to The Servant in the Tower. For bkwyrm.

Once he gets out, he doesn't think about it. He just pushes the whole experience to the back of his mind, because he's not here to dwell on things. That's not his job.

It's only when he's not paying attention – when he's not thinking about anything, when he's not busy working – that still finds himself stroking his arm, right over where the device used to be. There should be something there to remind him – a scar, or some change in the texture of the skin. Instead, it's like it was never there.

"You must be relieved," Heightmeyer said to him, the first day he stepped out of the east tower.

"You got it, Doctor," he'd answered, grinning the right kind of grin. He'd taken a deep breath, remembering what the air smelled like closer to the control room – more people, the faint scent of ozone lingering from each time the Stargate engaged.

"Looking to get off-world?" Sheppard had asked him, not much later.

"Hell, yes," Evan had said, thinking about sunshine and trees, and maybe getting to shoot at some Wraith.

"Just as soon as Beckett clears you."

That had been almost the extent of it. There are regular meetings with Heightmeyer, but Beckett cleared him for duty, and almost everyone acts like it never happened, except for when they apologise for taking so long to get the device off him in the first place.

Evan's grateful. He's almost a little grateful that Parrish avoids him. It's easier that way.

Except sometimes, when he's not paying attention – when he's standing in the 'gate room, waiting to escort a handful of botanists to a multi-planet agricultural fair, and Parrish is chatting excitedly with his colleagues; when he's in the mess hall, thinking about food, and notices Parrish sitting at a table, reading while he eats – he ends up stroking his arm, pressing his fingers against a non-existent scar.

And he wonders, just a little. A few indulgent minutes of wondering if Parrish ever thinks about it.

Evan always shakes it off. Parrish isn't his job anymore.

End.




	Home Archives July 2007 SGA Fic: After Lorne gets out of the Tower (Lorne/Parrish; PG) [Previous entry: "SGA Fic: The Day After (Lorne/Parrish; PG-13)"] [Next entry: "Stargate: Atlantis Fic"] 07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: After Lorne gets out of the Tower (Lorne/Parrish; PG)" Title: After Lorne gets out of the Tower Pairing: Lorne/Parrish Rating: PG Summary: Snapshot sequel to The Servant in the Tower. For bkwyrm. Once he gets out, he doesn't think about it. He just pushes the whole experience to the back of his mind, because he's not here to dwell on things. That's not his job. It's only when he's not paying attention – when he's not thinking about anything, when he's not busy working – that still finds himself stroking his arm, right over where the device used to be. There should be something there to remind him – a scar, or some change in the texture of the skin. Instead, it's like it was never there. "You must be relieved," Heightmeyer said to him, the first day he stepped out of the east tower. "You got it, Doctor," he'd answered, grinning the right kind of grin. He'd taken a deep breath, remembering what the air smelled like closer to the control room – more people, the faint scent of ozone lingering from each time the Stargate engaged. "Looking to get off-world?" Sheppard had asked him, not much later. "Hell, yes," Evan had said, thinking about sunshine and trees, and maybe getting to shoot at some Wraith. "Just as soon as Beckett clears you." That had been almost the extent of it. There are regular meetings with Heightmeyer, but Beckett cleared him for duty, and almost everyone acts like it never happened, except for when they apologise for taking so long to get the device off him in the first place. Evan's grateful. He's almost a little grateful that Parrish avoids him. It's easier that way. Except sometimes, when he's not paying attention – when he's standing in the 'gate room, waiting to escort a handful of botanists to a multi-planet agricultural fair, and Parrish is chatting excitedly with his colleagues; when he's in the mess hall, thinking about food, and notices Parrish sitting at a table, reading while he eats – he ends up stroking his arm, pressing his fingers against a non-existent scar. And he wonders, just a little. A few indulgent minutes of wondering if Parrish ever thinks about it. Evan always shakes it off. Parrish isn't his job anymore. End.