melissas_corner: (Lorne)
[personal profile] melissas_corner
I wrote this for a RP forum I belonged to. It was meant as a companion piece to the part of the story where Astra told Lorne she was pregnant with his child. Astra is used with her player's permission. I can't believe how many of my SGA stories haven't been posted here yet.

Evan's POV:

The past several months have been pretty close to pure hell and it's all because Astra and I were ordered to cease and desist with our romantic relationship. Stupid frelling fraternization rules, I think, sneaking a glance from the corner of my eye to where Astra is chatting with Blackthorne. If it wasn't for those stupid rules we'd still be together and our family wouldn't feel like it was about to implode.

Suddenly the peace of the afternoon is shattered by Ames' voice over my radio screaming "Incoming!" just seconds before I hear the all too familiar sound of Death Gliders.

"Take cover!" I order and feel a brief surge of pride when Astra unhesitatingly dives for cover behind the nearest rock formation. Seconds later I see the muzzle of her gun peak over the top, ready to take out anyone who gets too close to her hiding place. "Get your ass back here on the double, Ames!" I bark into my radio before finding some protection of my own.

The battle is short but no less brutal for that. Ames takes a staff blast to the chest point blank early on and Blackthorne takes one to his shoulder shortly after. I manage to use all but two of the bullets in my Beretta and every single bullet in all three of my P90 clips. When I finally drag Astra through the gate, all but a handful of the Jaffa Ba'al had sent after us are dead and of those that are still alive, well, let's just say they're wishing they were and will soon get that wish.

"Major?" O'Neill is the first to speak as Astra and I limp down the ramp looking like war refugees.

"Sir," I gasp just before losing my tentative grasp on consciousness.
= = =
"Astra!" I jerk awake with a start.

"Easy there, Major," a soothing female voice says. My eyes are too heavy to open even long enough to see who it is but I recognize a doctor when I hear one.

Slumping back against the pillows, I lick my dry lips. "My team?" I croak, wincing at how rusty my voice is.

A hand wiggles behind my head and lifts my upper body slightly while a straw is placed at my lips. "Here. Just a sip, Major." I hum my thanks at the refreshing coolness of the water and manage to crack my eyes open enough to see a pretty dark haired woman smiling at me. "How do you feel, Major?"

"Like I got attacked by a squadron of Jaffa." I swallow a bit painfully and the doctor offers me some more water. "My team?" I demand once again, pushing the cup away.

"I'm sorry, Major." I can hear the sympathy in her voice and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

I slam a fist down on the mattress. Damnit! I coulda sworn I got Astra back in time. "Damnit!" I give in and curse out loud. "None of them deserved to die like that."

A hand grips my arm and squeezes. "You have to calm down, Ev," a familiar voice gently scolds. "You did what you could."

I open my eyes and stare in disbelief at the woman sitting next to my bed. "Astra?"

"And who else on this base would be calling you 'Ev' instead of 'Major' or 'Lorne'?"

Grunting a bit with the pain, I sit up so I can look her over better. "Are you injured?"

"Nothing major. Just some bumps and scrapes. Oh, and a staff weapon burn to my leg. But I'll heal." She leans forward and traces one of my eyebrows. "You on the other hand, Major Lorne, have several broken ribs, a severely twisted ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Although the shoulder injury was acquired once we had stepped through the gate. According to Daniel, when you passed out, you fell over the rail of the gate ramp and landed on it wrong." She's trying very hard to not laugh at that and I just narrow my eyes on her face.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" She bites her lip, stifling a giggle and shakes her head. Heaving a sigh that has me then gasping in pain, I lie back down. "It's not polite to laugh at the injured, ya know," I huff, trying to glare at her but knowing I'm failing miserably.

"Sorry," she says and I know that she's anything but.

"No you're not."

"No I'm not," she agrees a full-bodied laugh breaking through. I have always loved her laugh and really hate that she hasn't had much to laugh about these past few months.

"I'm sorry, Astra," I whisper, reaching out with one hand to rub my fingers against her knee.

"Are you?" she questions, her voice just as small and fragile as the day I told her it was over.

"You have no idea how sorry I am. Please say you'll forgive me."

She looks away and I can tell she's actually thinking about it which is more than she did the last time I apologized. "How'd they find out?" she asks the one question I don't have an answer to.

"I don't know, As. O'Neill never said but my guess would be that he's a very observant guy and he saw us together enough times to put two and two together…" I trail off with a shrug.

"I have to go." She jumps up and all but runs from the room, leaving me feeling bereft.

Several days later, I'm released from the infirmary with strict orders to rest, not lift anything heavy and avoid anything strenuous.

The doctor gives me some of the good drugs before actually letting me leave, so an airman drives me home. I shuffle down the hall from the elevator to my apartment door feeling like an old man, one arm pressed tight to my chest in order to protect my battered ribs. Once inside, I toss the keys on the little table next to the door and turn to admire my haven. The main living area of the loft is totally wide open, the building is a renovated warehouse, with windows that let in tons of natural light which is why I bought it. The artist in me refuses to allow any curtains in the main areas and I have my easel set up near the north facing windows, just behind the antique pool table my father gave me when I graduated from the academy.

Off to the right of the door is what my mother calls the living room. While the whole place screams bachelor, that little corner is definitely a man's area. There's an overstuffed black leather couch that can easily sit five guys the size of Teal'c. The couch faces a fireplace that looks like it should've been in a ski lodge somewhere and mounted on the brick where the mantel should be is my pride and joy: a 60' plasma flat screen.

To the left of the door is a dining area with an oak table that can seat eight but is currently only set for four and my mother's favorite part of my apartment; a gourmet kitchen. When I moved in I gutted the kitchen and installed state of the art everything. My mother gave me two things; a love of art and a love of cooking. In my down time I can be found doing one of three things; painting, cooking or improving my martial arts skills. In the corner behind the dining room table and tucked under the stairs leading up to the 'bedroom', is a tiny bathroom. In fact it's so small it doesn't have a proper door, just a curtain. Inside is a pedestal sink, a toilet and a shower that is just barely big enough for two, as Astra and I discovered on several occasions to our mutual enjoyment.

Up the stairs is a California King bed, a couple of dressers and a curtained off area for my hanging clothes.

The pull of the drugs the doctor gave me forces me to forgo settling on the couch to catch up on the news or my favorite sports teams and instead has me sleepily climbing the stairs. Once there, I toe off my shoes before losing the battle with consciousness and falling face first on the bed still fully clothed to sleep the sleep of the dead, or in actuality, the sleep of the heavily sedated.
= = =
Sometime later I wake with the foggy disorientation that comes from being given the kind of drugs that you never get a refill for. I manage to blink my heavy lidded eyes open and the first thing I see is the picture of my family; SG-15. The picture was taken over a year ago back when Astra and I had first started sleeping together. In it, Ames, Blackthorne and I are sitting on a couch with our arms around each other's shoulders with Astra stretched out on her side across our laps. All four of us are wearing identical ear-to-ear grins. We were on our first vacation as a team. It was taken on our last night in Tahoe after a day spent frolicking in fresh powder.

Seeing the picture breaks something in me and I curl up into a tight ball and finally give over to my grief. To my horror, once the dam is open the flood shows no sign of stopping any time soon. Eventually, though, my tears dry up and my grief is alleviated somewhat. Rolling over onto my back, I throw one arm over my eyes while I try to get my equilibrium back. I try to remind myself that Astra made it back mostly unscathed. Heaving a huge sigh of regret, I begin to compose letters to Ames and Blackthorne's families. I know that O'Neill will have sent his own regrets, but I have always felt it's the responsibility of a person's direct CO as well. I've never had to tell someone's loved ones that they've died and that is one of the reasons I didn't want a command yet. I'm not sure I'm ready for that particular responsibility.

After several minutes, my bladder informs me it needs to be emptied, so I roll from the bed and stumble down the stairs. After taking care of that necessity, I wash my hands then lean heavily on the edges of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. I look like hell, and feel like it too. My eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed and there's a day's growth of beard on my face since I didn't feel like shaving when I was released from the infirmary earlier. Splashing water on my face and feeling slightly better for it, I scrub my hands through my beard and exit the bathroom. Astra and I are grounded for the foreseeable future so I don't feel the need to shave it off at this time.

Upon exiting the bathroom I finally notice that the apartment is dark. With all the windows that let in so much light, I didn't turn on a lamp when I arrived and now that the sun has gone down it's almost pitch dark. I make my way to the kitchen in the dark, I know this place inside and out, to hunt up a snack. Just as I add milk to my bowl of Grape Nuts with a sliced banana, my phone rings.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, because only the SGC would call me after midnight, I make my way to the couch and snag the cordless receiver off its base before flopping down on the couch.

"Lorne," I grunt around a mouthful of cereal.

"Evan Lorne, you had better not be talking with your mouth full!" my mother scolds.

Quickly swallowing what's in my mouth I rush to assure her. "No ma'am. Definitely not."

"Good. Sorry to call so late but I was sure you'd still be on assignment." My parents didn't want me to join the military but I didn't have a head for numbers like my dad does. Luckily for me all three sisters married men very interested in accounting and finance planning. From the day I graduated from the academy my mother has understood that I can't talk about my job. She does know that I'm in Special Forces. I know she worries more than she should but she tries her hardest to make sure I don't see it. I know there's not an emergency because she would have contacted the base where I'm 'stationed' since, as she said, I'm supposed to be on a mission.

I take a breath and try to figure out how to tell her why I'm back early. It's never happened this way before. Usually she already knows I've been injured after a failed mission when we talk. "It didn't…go as…planned," I whisper. I consider my mother my best friend and I really hate having to keep this secret from her. No matter how old I am, I know I'll feel like Gayle Lorne's baby boy whenever I have to admit to her that I was injured in the line of duty and that I lost a brother in arms.

"Oh, baby," she coos. "I'm so sorry. Were you badly injured?"

And now I have to figure out how to tell her about my injuries without her insisting on coming down here to take care of me. "A couple of broken ribs, twisted ankle, dislocated shoulder," I list my injuries. No way in hell am I going to tell her how I dislocated my shoulder. It's bad enough that the whole of the SGC is probably laughing their asses off about it, no need to have my mother and sisters having fun at my expense, too.

"Johan, Bear and that pretty archeologist Astra?" It's so very telling of my mother's frame of mind that she uses an adjective for Astra but not Ames and Blackthorne.

Swallowing my mouthful, I take a moment to gather my thoughts before telling her. "Ames and Blackthorne didn't make it." Her sharply indrawn breath is just so her. Every person I ever brought home, whether as just a friend or as a girlfriend, she has accepted into the family with open arms. Ames, Blackthorne and Astra weren't just my family, they were hers too.

"Oh, Evan," she breathes and I can hear the hitch in her voice that tells me she's crying for my fallen brothers. "You didn't mention Astra," she reminds me.

"Astra managed to escape with minor scrapes, bumps and bruises." I can't tell her the true extent of Astra's injuries and once again I regret not being able to tell her the truth about my job. "They let her go the same day. Kept me longer which makes me think they didn't tell me all my injuries."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you had a concussion they didn't tell you about."

"Or maybe they just wanted to make sure I allowed my shoulder to heal properly." We share a chuckle over that. I was never a good patient and she was always having to threaten to tie me to my bed when I was younger and had hurt myself.

"Still giving those doctors a difficult time, are you?" She tries for a scolding tone but fails miserably.

"I don't like being kept in a bed. I do know how to follow orders, ya know. Kinda comes with the job description these days."

"I suppose it does at that."

"Not to change the subject or nothing, but how's Aunt Mildred?" I use this when I need a few minutes of not having to answer. My mother can talk for a full five minutes about her mother's sister.

"Oh, didn't I tell you. She…" I've learned to listen with half an ear. I used this tactic so I can finish the milk in my bowl without getting yelled at for slurping. Most of what Mom tells me I've heard before so I just make noises that show I'm listening, despite not really. "So how about it, Ev?" This one's new and I desperately search my memory to see what she's asking. "Will you be available next week for her birthday?" Her tone lets me know she's aware I wasn't truly listening.

"Not really sure, Mom," I stall. While I am grounded for a while, I never really know with the SGC.

"Aren't you grounded for a while?" Leave it to my mother to know something like that about the military.

"Of course but we're at war so I never truly know exactly how long it'll actually last."

"Okay. I won't say anything in case you can't make it."

"Thanks, Mom. So exactly why did you call me so late when you knew I wasn't going to be home?"

"Oh! I almost forgot! I called to tell you that Carrie finally delivered." Carrie is the family cat.

"Cool. How many?"

"Four. Biggest litter she's had yet." Of course it's only her second litter but that doesn't seem to matter to my mother. "All four look like Mr. Big." The other family cat. Can you tell which two characters are my mother's favorites from Sex and the City? And I am deeply ashamed I know those characters are from that show.

"That's great, Mom, but you could have emailed me about it, ya know."

"I know. It's just you've been on assignment for several weeks and I wanted to hear your voice on the answering machine." It's very telling of our relationship that her admission doesn't annoy me. It actually makes me feel loved, something I truly need right now, and reminds me I need to check my answering machine.

"And how many times have you called just to listen to my voice on the machine?" The fact that she doesn't answer right away tells me that she's done it more times than she really wants to admit to. "It's alright, Mom," I say softly. "I keep most of those messages, especially the voice mails on my phone, to listen to on long missions."

Her sigh is very shaky. "I worry so much, Evan." I can hear the tears in her voice.

"I know, Mom."

"Maybe I wouldn't worry as much if you settled down. Maybe with Astra?" It just wouldn't be a conversation with my mother if she didn't try to set me up with Astra. From the moment they met Mom was after me to snag her and put a ring on her finger.

"We've been over this before, Mom. It's against the rules."

"Rules, scmules," she scoffs. "If you're in love, you'll find a way." And with that simple statement she lets me know she's on to me; that she knows about my feelings for Astra.

I take a deep breath and tell her one of my secrets. "Actually, Mom, we did date for a while."

"Did you actually date her or did you just sleep with her?"

"Mom! I can't believe you think that of me! We actually dated. As in, I took her on romantic trips and dinners out and things like that. It was the real deal."

"What happened, then?"

"Our relationship was against the rules. I was ordered to break up with her or let her be transferred to another team."

"And you chose the road to heartbreak, why?" Leave it to my mother to go right for the jugular.

"Because I love her, Mom, and I find it makes me feel better if she's where I can keep an eye on her despite knowing she can take care of herself. Know how Dad is always being all overprotective of you? That's how I am with Astra."

She heaves a deep sigh. "Okay, I can accept that. Is there any way the two of you can get back together?"

"Only if I resign my commission which brings us back to I need to be able to watch over her."

"Fine. I'll let this drop." She leaves off the 'for now' but I hear it anyway. "I should probably let you get back to sleep. Love you, Evian," she signs off with her nickname for me.

"Love you too, Mom. Give my love to everyone." Even though my family is just a few hours away in Denver, I don't see them as often as I'd like.

We hang up and I actually feel a bit better for having talked to my mother. But there's still something missing. It only takes me a few minutes to figure out what it is I need; Astra. I need to see her, hear her voice, smell her perfume.

My decision made, I jump up and jog up the stairs to put on my shoes, then grabbing my wallet and keys, I head out. Just as I press the button for the elevator I remember my truck's still at the mountain. Growling softly under my breath, I stomp back to my apartment to call a taxi.

I pace nervously in front of my building while waiting for the cab to arrive. I could always walk to Astra's house but don't want to because of it being well after midnight and my mending ribs. The taxi ride to Astra's house is silent. I'm glad this cabbie isn't inclined to make small talk. I take the time to recall if Darcy is still off-world or not, then decide it doesn't matter. I'm not going over there to have sex with her; I just need to talk to someone who went through the same thing I did.

I make the driver's day by shoving a fifty through the slot in the glass partition and telling him to keep the change. Stepping from the cab, I stand on the sidewalk, staring at the house. I never thought that she might be asleep but seeing the light on in her room gives me the push I need to walk up the path to the door and ring the bell.

She surprises me by opening the door after just a minute or two. She's not quick enough to hide her surprise at seeing me standing on her doorstep. "Major, what are you doing here?" I wince at the anger in her tone. What the hell happened between her calming me in the infirmary a few days ago and now?

"I…" I stop to clear my throat. "I don't want to be alone tonight. Please don't send me away, As," I beg, Ames and Blackthorne's deaths hitting me again like a sucker punch to the gut.

She studies my face for several nerve wracking seconds, then she sighs and gives a small nod before stepping back and motioning me in. Whatever it was that convinced her to let me seems to have changed her attitude and when she turns to face me after closing the door, I can see that her eyes are as red as mine. I find I can't help but give her a once over and notice that she's wearing a pair of my old boxers and one of my old tank tops.

A grin curls my lips and I try to lighten the mood. "I was wondering what happened to those," I say, indicating what she's wearing.

She just shrugs. "You left them behind." She pauses and her gaze drops to the floor. "Plus they still smell like you and I need to feel close to someone." I have a feeling she didn't want to admit to that last bit.

Releasing a shaky breath, I pull her to me and bury my face in her hair. I'm pleased when she lets go, fisting her hands in my shirt, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. Squeezing my eyes shut as tears threaten, I tighten my arms and murmur soothing words.

Suddenly she lifts her head and brushes her lips against mine. "I need you, Evan," she whispers. "Please. Just for tonight." I have never been able to refuse her and now is no exception.

Sliding my hands down her back, I grab her ass and lift her, turning us so that her back is to the door. She wraps her legs around my waist and tightens her grip on my shirt. The kiss we share is raw, our teeth clacking as we both fight for dominance, finally settling on letting our tongues dual it out. I kiss down to her neck and begin to nibble on that spot under her jaw that always makes her weak in the knees. Slipping my hands up under her shirt, I stroke them up her sides to her breasts. I flick her nipples with my thumb nails pulling a moan from her. Just as I start to push her shirt up so I can suckle her breasts, she shoves against my shoulders. With a growl I lift my head.

"I have a very nice bed upstairs, in case you've forgotten, Major," she informs me and the part of me that is currently centered in my pants is beyond pleased by the breathless quality of her voice.

"I remember that bed quite well, Doctor. I'm happy right here," I counter, going back to nibbling on her neck.

"And I want a bed for this. Evan!" She pushes even harder and this shove manages to break my concentration.

"Fine. We'll go upstairs," I grumble, pulling back and letting her down.

As soon as her feet touch the floor, she slips out from between me and the door and makes a break for the stairs. I follow so closely that if she was to stop, I'd end up running her over.

In her room, I kick the door closed and spin her back to face me so I can recapture her lips. Her hands begin unbuttoning my shirt. She pulls back to breathe and tosses my dog tags over my shoulder, then leans forward and places a hickey in the hollow where my collarbones meet. I shrug out of my shirt and help her undo my belt and fly while stepping out of my shoes. When she pulls back to admire her handiwork, I pull her shirt off over her head. Crushing her against my chest I can't quite stop the groan at the feel of her naked flesh against mine again for the first time in way too long. I slide one hand down her back and under the waistband of her shorts to grab her ass and bury the other in her hair, pulling her head back so I can lick a stripe up her neck.

"Evan!" she moans, the urgent tone telling me I need to get on with it.

Shoving her shorts down her legs, I help her step from them then remove my own jeans and boxer briefs. Walking her backward to the bed, I keep our bodies pressed close. Laying her down in the middle of the bed, I cover her body with mine. "Damnit!" I grit out, burying my face in her neck.

"What?" she asks, her hands stroking my back.

"I wasn't planning on this, so I didn't bring a condom." I lean back to look at her face.

"I am on the patch just like every other female who works for the military," she reminds me. "Plus it won't be the first time we've had sex without one."

"I know, but we're not together anymore."

She squirms a little so she can look at me better. "Evan, it's me. If I didn't get pregnant the last time we had sex without a condom, I don't think this time will be any different."

"This isn't why I came here, tonight."

"I know."

I'm confused. Months ago she told me to never touch her again and now she's telling me she wants to have sex with just the patch as our protection. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Now, Evan. Please. I need the reminder that we survived." And that's it in a nutshell. The real reason I came here; to be reminded I managed to save her.

I give a brief nod and slip my hands under her head, lowering my body to lie flush on top of hers. Slowly I press in and drop my head to press our foreheads together when she wraps her legs around my waist, hooking her feet under my ass.

"I won't break, Ev. You don't have to be so gentle." She may want this to be rough and raw, and maybe the circumstances actually demand it, but for some reason I find that I want to take this slow, want to actually make love to her like I never have before.

Looking into her eyes, I begin to move slowly, yet deeply, with her urging me to go faster. Keeping to my set pace, I lean down and nibble on her lips. She whimpers and lifts her hips, trying her best to get me to do what she wants. She takes her frustration out on my back, causing me to arch back. Growling softly, I raise myself up and rest my weight on my fists. Seeing the smirk on her face I thrust in as hard as I can and feel a smirk of my own cross my face at the startled look in her eyes. "This what you want?" I demand, keeping my thrusts slow but hard enough to make her breasts jiggle. She wraps her hands around my triceps and plants her feet on the mattress to meet each thrust of my hips. I take this as a challenge and begin picking up speed.

Before long I can see her approaching orgasm and do everything I can to push her over the edge. Her climax is so powerful that it takes us both by surprise. She throws her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, her back arched sharply off the bed. Seeing her in all her glory has me tumbling over the peak before I can even draw two breathes. I barely manage to catch myself before I collapse on top of her so that I'm braced above her on my forearms.

When I catch my breath, I roll off to lie on my back next to her, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Astra," I mutter, turning my head to look at her.

She has her eyes closed and is breathing slowly through her nose, her lips pressed tightly closed. When I speak she just shakes her head and I see a tear escape.

Great. Now I've gone and done it, this time. If she didn't hate me before, she certainly does now. Rolling from the bed I head for the bathroom only to have her rush past. She slams the door in my face and I hear the lock click. "My house, my bathroom, Major."

One eyebrow rises at her cool tone. Fine, if that's how she wants it… I head off down the hall toward the guest bath. After cleaning myself up, I go back to her bedroom, intent on getting dressed and leaving.

When I step into the room, I find her curled under a pile of blankets facing the door. She sees me and lifts a corner of the blankets in invitation. With only the briefest of hesitations, I walk across the floor and crawl under the covers with her.

She reaches out and runs one hand down my heavily stubbled cheek. "You didn't shave."

"Didn't feel like it before leaving the mountain. I can always go use one of Darcy's…"

"No," she interrupts. "I like it." She leans in and presses her lips to mine, then rolls over and snuggles her back to my front, her head pillowed on my arm.

I slip one knee between hers and she instantly tucks the toes of one foot behind my heel, just like when we were together. Sleep comes easily for her but not me. I shift closer, burying my nose in her hair and place my right hand on her lower abdomen. Spreading my fingers I let my mind wonder through a series of what ifs. What if we had been allowed to stay together? What if I had asked her to marry me instead of breaking up? What if she gets pregnant? My mind shies away from that last one but then comes back and wonders what kind of pregnant woman she'd be. Would she be the kind that glows with just a tiny little baby bump? Or would she be the kind that has all the ugly symptoms including having a huge belly? In the end it doesn't matter because I'd love her regardless because it would be my child.

I've never thought about having kids, despite my mother's constant nagging to settle down and have some, but I find I quite enjoy the thought of Astra and I having a child together. A little girl that looks just like her. With that pretty image in my head, I relax enough for sleep to pull me under, hoping that my nightmares will not visit me tonight.


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