The_Jett_Jett (jett_chan) wrote,

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"A Gentleman's War"

Title: A Gentleman's War (Seriously, I have not a better title.)
Author:  Jett-chan
Fandom:  Stargate Atlantis
Characters:  Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne, Dr. Keller
Rating:  PG (well, supremely vague references to baby-making, so... PG-13, maybe?)
Summary:  Lorne is drawing in the infirmary and Ronon is attacked by charcoal. (It's not crack, I swear...)

Okay, this is my third and "last" R/L fic. I'm in the process of another one, but the plot's sketchy, Ronon's dialogue is giving me an ulcer, and I have finals comin' up. So when this WIP will be seen... is unknown even to me at this point. But in the case of the fic I now present to you, it's probably the one I'm most proud of. And I think it's for the simple reason that sex is more heavily implied. That's it. Not the better semi-plot, not the dialogue that practically wrote itself (don't you love that?), but the implication that Lorne is flexible to an extent. It's stuff like this that gets me through study-cramming. 

Oh, and this is officially my fic journal now.


The thing about being active in the field is this:  Expect to shoot other people. Expect to be shot at. Expect to be shot. If you cannot accept at least two out of three of these realities, it’s time to choose a new profession. A waiter, maybe, or a nun.


“Or an art teacher back home…” Lorne muttered to himself, reloading his gun. Except the major accepted all three. He was more than qualified, much to his mother’s chagrin. The day he came home and informed her that he would not, in fact, be following her footsteps into the serene life that was teaching brush strokes to uninterested teenagers it nearly broke her heart. His mother fit the stereotype when it came to artists. Emotional, day-dreamy, not to mention fragile…


Much like the kneecap of the enemy Genii soldier he just took out. Kolya and his men were really beginning to try his patience, and that was saying something. Lorne glanced over to the soldier next to him, the kid’s eyes wide and finger not on the trigger. The question as to how exactly did someone like this make it to Atlantis crossed his mind, but Lorne simply yelled over at him.


“Don’t think! Just shoot! That’s an order!” Lorne tried to put urgency in his words, but the soldier merely looked over to him in a panic. Lorne ducked further behind his cover (a thick metal case filled with something he prayed wasn’t explosive) and he grabbed the arm of the soldier. “The bullets are replaceable; you are not! Shoot!” And with that, the soldier lifted up his gun and fired awkwardly. It was then that Lorne noticed the difference in his uniform. The kid was no soldier, but part of the research team. Lorne took a better look around the area that he and his team, along with the scientists, were held up. Many of the other scientists had guns and were firing haphazardly, only further telling Lorne of the grave seriousness the situation had taken. Quickly, he took note of how many grenades were at hand.






Lorne gripped the explosive and turned to his team. “Fall back! Get to the Gate, all of you!” But the sound of bullets flying nearly drowned out his voice. A lieutenant, who had managed to hear most of the order, glanced his way. Seeing the grenade, he nodded and nudged the soldier next to him to relay the order. The word spread quickly, and the men retreated while grabbing confused researchers and hauling them towards the Stargate.  Lorne gave them a thirty second head start. Plenty of time to gain some ground without the Kolya’s men realizing something was up. He pulled the pin, took a couple deep breaths, and hurled the grenade as hard as he could. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t stick around to see the explosion, but he certainly felt it and could hear the sounds of men either surprised or in agony. He took off at a sprint, never once looking back as he passed through the camp that was once their base. He could see the brilliance of the Gate’s event horizon up ahead, but the bullet that whizzed by his head left little room for his artistic observations. Of the men he sent back, only one was left guarding the DHD, covering the major by shooting at the pursuers. When the soldier saw that Lorne would most likely make it the rest of the way, he jogged to the Gate and jumped through. Lorne was making his way up the steps when a bullet lodged itself into his right leg. He dropped to the ground and grabbed at his upper thigh. He only took a second longer to push himself back up and practically fall through the watery barrier.




“So when we finally realized that Kolya and his men were there from the beginning, it was too late. Luckily, we gained the higher ground and a clear path to the Gate.” Lorne winced at the end of his sentence slightly as he pushed himself into a better sitting position. Hospital beds, no matter what galaxy you were in, sucked.


Carter simply nodded, confirming that his team’s second in command had pretty much said the same. She smiled down at him in sympathy as he played with his IV, gaining him a sharp slap on the wrist from Dr. Keller.


“Get some rest, Major. You’ve earned it,” Carter said, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder before turning to exit the infirmary. Lorne lay back stiffly and looked up to young doctor.


“So, I should be getting out of here in, what? An hour or two? Less?” he asked. Keller snorted softly and gave him a mock glare.


“More. I’m going to keep you here over night,” she said. Lorne nearly did a double take.


“Over night?! But last week someone broke their ankle, compound fracture, and they were released by the end of the day! I know! He has breakfast with my team!” The good major was practically challenging her to deny his statement, but she just shook her head and tried to hide her smile. Her patients could be very amusing sometimes, especially Lorne and Colonel Sheppard… well, maybe not Sheppard. He had a tendency to become very annoying during long stays in the infirmary.


“Major Lorne, your wound still has a chance of becoming infected. We need you here, on the proper medication and antibiotics,” she explained as she lightly tapped the IV. Lorne glared at the thin tube as if it were the reason he was stuck there.


“Can’t you just put some Campho-Phenique gel on a band-aid, patch me up, and say I’m good?” he pleaded, shoulders sagging slightly. His mock look of defeat told Dr. Keller that she wouldn’t have to worry about him for the rest of the night (unlike Colonel Sheppard, who probably would have come up with some scheme to get himself thrown out by now).


About two hours later, though, Lorne was ready to resort such ungentlemanly tactics. Despite crashing after the adrenaline rush that was today, he couldn’t get his attention span to cooperate. What’s in the IV, again? What time is it now? Would it be possible to just walk around a little bit? Is the Surgeon General responsible for the crappy beds?


“The beds here are hardly any different than the ones in your quarters, Major,” one of Dr. Keller’s assistants assured with exasperation.


“Oh, I beg to differ,” Lorne said. The assistant sighed.


“How so, Major?” she asked, humoring him.


“Well, in my oh-so comfortable quarters I have a hand-made quilt that my grandmother made me when I had the chicken pox. I have it at the end of my bed; it keeps my feet from getting cold. These thin sheets,” Lorne said, wiggling the foot of his uninjured leg, “do nothing to for the circulation in my toes.” By now the assistant was smiling, obviously no longer annoyed thanks to the major’s adorable child-like behavior. “I also have a nifty pillow in the shape of Abe Lincoln’s funny hat.” This time the assistant laughed, replacing the used IV bag with a full one. “Also, I keep my sketch pad next to my bed, which makes it all the better. Can’t I at least have a pen and some paper?” The assistant looked ready to break to his request when leather bound book, about the size of a journal, landed next to his left leg.  Lorne blinked and looked up.


Ronon stood at the end of his bed, expression seemingly blank, though Lorne could see he was amused.


“Now will you stop being a pest?” the ex-runner asked. Dr. Keller’s assistant had made a quick and unnoticed retreat (Ronon had that effect on some people). Lorne picked up the book. It was his sketch book.


“You know, I’m pretty sure not only is it a moral wrong, but an illegal act to go into another’s personal space without permission,” he said slowly, but with a good-natured grin. Ronon shrugged and took a seat in the chair next to his bed.


“Been hearin’ a lot around the mess about what happened today,” he said, changing the subject.


“Yeah, yeah. What were you doing in my room, exactly?” Lorne asked. Ronon shifted and looked around. Seeing that no one was particularly near by, the Satedan leaned forward slightly.


“I thought you’d be there after your debriefing, but turns out you got stuck here instead,” he said, not looking the major in the eye. Lorne smirked.


“Planned on jumping me as soon as I walked in?” he asked in a low voice. Ronon frowned and sat back in his chair, telling Lorne that that had been exactly what Ronon had in mind, though it didn’t stop the ex-runner from denying it.


“Just gonna ask if you wanted to spar,” he explained.


“Oh, sure…” Lorne said, the knowing grin never leaving his face as he picked up his sketch book. Taking the piece of charcoal from the binder he began to brush it against the paper. Ronon growled.


“No, seriously,” he said defensively.


“I believe you.” No he didn’t. Ronon’s frown deepened before relaxing as he shrugged his shoulders.


“Doesn’t matter now, anyway. Looks like you’ll be here for a while.” It was Lorne’s turn to frown a little at Ronon’s words, though he never took his eyes off what he was drawing.


“Only for tonight. Then I’ll limp my way to bed and sleep for another day.” Lorne tilted the book somewhat to get a better light on it before continuing to add more lines. A grin tugged at his lips. “That is unless you have a backup plan.” His grin widened when Ronon coughed.


“Like I said, heard a lot about your mission. You’ve managed to place yourself pretty high in McKay’s circle,” he said. When Lorne finally looked up in surprise, Ronon continued. “Those scientist guys are really impressed with you. After you didn’t show up in your quarters I went down to the mess. Guess I missed all the excitement over your return. Got down there and all McKay’s guys had to say was how they got to see some action in the field. “Super-special-awesome” was used, I think. And also about the “far-out” major that saved their lives.” Lorne had started laughing out loud by the time Ronon finished.


“What a bunch of geeks…” he chuckled affectionately. He brushed off some extra charcoal dust from his drawing before adding a few finishing touches. Ronon’s curiosity had finally gotten the best of him.


“Let me see,” he demanded. He always enjoyed watching Evan (in situations like this, Evan was more than appropriate) create amazing images from a blank canvas. It further demonstrated Evan’s uniqueness, his open-minded creativity. The major had been one of the first to accept his presence in Atlantis as a matter of fact.


Lorne tilted the book away from Ronon and continued his work. Ronon frowned once again and leaned forward, reaching out to grab the leather bound book. Lorne lashed out with his piece of charcoal and drew a black line across Ronon’s face. The Satedan drew back in mild surprise, and Lorne smirked.


“I’m not done,” he said defiantly. Ronon wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, only making the mark worse.


“What are you drawing?” he growled. Lorne looked over at him with hooded eyes.


“The future,” he said ominously. Ronon rolled his eyes.


“You been watchin’ those…,” Ronon looked like he was searching for the right word, “DVDs with Sheppard and McKay again? The one where the guy explodes or something?” Lorne chuckled again.


“Maybe. But I’m being serious. At least, I hope I am. It’s an interesting future worth looking into.” With that, Ronon again reached for book, quicker than last time, and managed to pull it from Lorne’s grasp. “Hey! I said I wasn’t done!” he protested. Ronon snorted and looked down at the drawing.




“… Can I have it back now?” Lorne shifted as much as he could without jarring his leg. Ronon remained silent as he studied the image without expression and then spoke.


“Future worth looking into, huh?” Ronon asked, his voice amused. Lorne blushed slightly and looked away.   


“Give it back.”


“Can you even bend that way?”


Give it back!”


“Just asking. ‘Cause this is one prediction that might actually come true, assuming you get out of here before I go on the mission tomorrow.”


“… Dr. Keller… DR. KELLER! I need that Campho-gel, some gauze, and bottle of your finest codeine! STAT!”


So~ Pretty much what I feel is my best one so far, which means I have a lot of improving to do. XD;; In the time it's taken me to write my little intro above this fic and to the point where I am now, I'm thinking of setting aside that other fic to work on my own challenge. *snort* We'll see how it goes. As always, beta'd by the amazing nelle_tenebre!!
Tags: fic, ronon/lorne
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