Get to the Gate room, Chuck said over David’s earpiece. Now.
David froze in the act of repotting one of the flowering red plants they were studying for medicinal uses. There was white noise buzzing in his ears and for a long moment he forgot to breathe.
Dr. Parrish, do you copy?
David wiped one hand on his pants and reached up to his ear. “Copy.”
He wanted to run, and he wanted to hide, both at the same time. But he knew he couldn’t hide, even if the news was dire. And he couldn’t run, because the universe would see his haste and punish him. It was a stupid superstition, but one that had clung to him for as long as he could remember.
God rewards patience, his mother always liked to say.
David washed his hands, ignoring the way they trembled, and thoroughly dried them before stepping out of the greenhouse. He kept measured paces all the way to the transporter, counting them as he went.
Evan’s team went missing a week ago. Anything could’ve happened in that time. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. They could’ve been tortured, killed, fed on by Wraith. David knew Evan would do everything in his power to keep his men alive, even if it meant his own death.
David stepped out of the transporter, trying to steel his spine for whatever might lay ahead. He had to be strong. Evan deserved that.
The Gate room was a hive of activity. Medical staff were swarming around, doing triage and loading people up on gurneys. David found himself frozen yet again, scanning for the one face he most wanted to see.
“Dr. Parrish!” Teyla waved him over.
And there was Evan, already strapped to a gurney that would be bound for the infirmary. Alive. Bruised and bloody, but alive.
“Hey. There you are.” Evan reached out his hand and David grasped hold, held tight. “Looks worse than it is. Promise.”
David didn’t buy that for a second, but he just pressed a kiss to Evan’s knuckles and didn’t say anything about the tears leaking out of Evan’s eyes. Whatever he’d been through must have been terrible.
“Moving out, Doc,” one of the Marines said, pushing Evan’s gurney toward the transporter.
Evan didn’t ask, but David didn’t need him to.
“I’m right here with you,” he said. “All the way.”
The Marine’s steps were brisk but not hurried, and David nodded.
Fill: Evan Lorne/David Parrish + Chuck + Teyla
David froze in the act of repotting one of the flowering red plants they were studying for medicinal uses. There was white noise buzzing in his ears and for a long moment he forgot to breathe.
Dr. Parrish, do you copy?
David wiped one hand on his pants and reached up to his ear. “Copy.”
He wanted to run, and he wanted to hide, both at the same time. But he knew he couldn’t hide, even if the news was dire. And he couldn’t run, because the universe would see his haste and punish him. It was a stupid superstition, but one that had clung to him for as long as he could remember.
God rewards patience, his mother always liked to say.
David washed his hands, ignoring the way they trembled, and thoroughly dried them before stepping out of the greenhouse. He kept measured paces all the way to the transporter, counting them as he went.
Evan’s team went missing a week ago. Anything could’ve happened in that time. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. They could’ve been tortured, killed, fed on by Wraith. David knew Evan would do everything in his power to keep his men alive, even if it meant his own death.
David stepped out of the transporter, trying to steel his spine for whatever might lay ahead. He had to be strong. Evan deserved that.
The Gate room was a hive of activity. Medical staff were swarming around, doing triage and loading people up on gurneys. David found himself frozen yet again, scanning for the one face he most wanted to see.
“Dr. Parrish!” Teyla waved him over.
And there was Evan, already strapped to a gurney that would be bound for the infirmary. Alive. Bruised and bloody, but alive.
“Hey. There you are.” Evan reached out his hand and David grasped hold, held tight. “Looks worse than it is. Promise.”
David didn’t buy that for a second, but he just pressed a kiss to Evan’s knuckles and didn’t say anything about the tears leaking out of Evan’s eyes. Whatever he’d been through must have been terrible.
“Moving out, Doc,” one of the Marines said, pushing Evan’s gurney toward the transporter.
Evan didn’t ask, but David didn’t need him to.
“I’m right here with you,” he said. “All the way.”
The Marine’s steps were brisk but not hurried, and David nodded.
God rewarded patience.