Chapter Text
“Get us out of here, Lorne!”
Evan immediately relieved the young soldier, slipped into the pilot’s chair of the puddle jumper and began the start-up sequence. The Wraith were still around, but hopefully they would leave (soon) and allow them to get back to Atlantis.
Checking over his shoulder, Evan did a quick head count of the personnel. McKay was huffing and puffing, the heavy red radiation suit weighed him down and so he practically fell into the seats, stumbling against one of Lorne’s men. The Doc came running up the ramp and Teyla followed helping him with the last of his equipment. All Lorne’s men were present too as was Sheppard who was the last to get on, at least that was until a tall scruffy half naked man with dreadlocks followed him.
Intimidating, threatening and dangerous, in fact everything about this man had Lorne immediately on his guard. This was the guy who took Teyla hostage, who the Wraith were after and now they were bringing him back to Atlantis? That really didn’t bode well in his mind. His hand was already on his weapon, had been when he first saw him, but it stayed as Sheppard already had him covered. But even with the other soldiers sitting next to the alien man, he towered above them.
Okay…he’s big.
When the alien glared at him menacingly, Evan returned the look with the same amount of contempt, warning him not to try anything. The man straightened up in defiance and snarled, one hand slipping down to his lap and curling into a fist.
Really. Don’t try anything.
“Major, we’re good for lift off!” Sheppard sat next to Lorne and leaned forward a little to look out the window as the Wraith darts began to disappear through the gate.
“Wait, where’s Ford?” Lorne broke his stare from the alien and looked to the open ramp.
The lack of response from his CO and the saddened look upon his face, told Lorne all he needed to know. The ramp began to ascend.
All through the flight back, Lorne couldn’t help but look over his shoulder now and then at the new passenger. He was going to be trouble, Lorne knew it.
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“That’s Sateda?”
No survivors, nothing. There were only ruins of what had once been a beautiful world and he was all that remained of his people.
The reality of being the last Satedan alive punched him hard in the stomach and twisted all his insides invoking a nauseous and burning hatred and insurmountable grief. Ronon didn’t show it, he just grit his teeth and clenched his fists and kept a lid on all the emotions inside. However, seven years of instinct to keep running was screaming in every fibre of his being and that was something he could never ignore.
He had to get out of here.
Ronon Dex turned away from the MALP images of his birthplace and walked out of the command centre. He wasn’t going to wait around for further talk from those people, or for his ‘guard’ to catch up with him. He would figure a way off this world and away from these humans, even if it killed them.
However, out in the corridor he nearly barged straight into one of the men from the shuttle. The one Sheppard had called Lorne.
“Hey, do you mind watching where you’re going?”
It was a dumb thing to say as he already was watching, but Ronon didn’t reply. He simply stretched himself to his full height and barged purposely against the smaller man, causing him to take a couple of steps back. Unlike others, this man didn’t violently react or start mouthing off. He kept his cool and stood his ground, glaring up at Ronon defiantly with intense blue eyes. This was the guy who had stared at him on the shuttle, the one who looked as if he wanted Ronon to lash out. This was the guy who had kept looking at him expecting a fight, a means to get back at him for taking the female hostage. He probably blamed Ronon when they weren’t able to bring back their friend as well.
Ronon’s need to unleash and vent his anger was now suddenly greater than the need to run. He looked the older man up and down and snarled again. This man could take beating, in fact the more the human glared at him with judging eyes, the more Ronon wanted to carry it out.
This Lorne person wouldn’t last a couple of minutes in a hand to hand fight against a Satedan Specialist, their training was second to none in this galaxy, but as the two of them still stood posturing, their chests brushing against one another in some show of bravado, it seemed that Lorne thought differently. Now Ronon really wanted to pummel this fool, to take the blame and hatred he held towards the Wraith out on him.
The man really didn’t like Ronon either. Oh Ronon could tell he was trying to be nice and polite for the new visitor and he sickeningly saw pity in those eyes as well and that was the last straw. He didn’t want pity, not from Sheppard, Weir or the others, and certainly not from this man. Ronon was already imagining beating him, each move, punch and kick swift and hard, and the more he thought on various other ways to incapacitate Lorne, the more his hands twitched in anticipation. He really wanted to act upon these urges; to show this human what a mistake it was to pity him.
“Excuse me, you’re in my way.”
False pleasantries, he’s still trying to be nice? Typical.
“You’re in mine.” Ronon said back at him, his eyes widening and screaming for Lorne to give him the smallest of excuses to throw a punch right here and now.
“Are you going to move?” Lorne asked.
“No.”
It wasn’t until Sheppard and the military guard came towards them that Ronon finally stepped out of Lorne’s way and allowed him to continue on towards the command centre.
“Thank you.”
Yeah, that wasn’t 100% sincere.
Ronon didn’t respond to Sheppard when he asked what was going on. He just made some deep guttural vocalisation and headed off towards the room where they had been keeping him. When he was alone, the desire to vent became even worse. His head felt as if it was splitting apart and he couldn’t bare it. He had to do something or else he would snap.
Ronon closed his eyes, but he saw his people dying and being slaughtered by the Wraith. He remembered his family, Melena and the deaths of so many others, other women and children; it made him choke upon the anger and loss that was eating him up. The tears were burning his eyes and cheeks as they fell; he was the last Satedan alive.
There was no one else.
So Ronon only had one option.
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“Elizabeth, he’s just found out his whole planet has been wiped out by the Wraith! What did we expect him to do?”
Weir rubbed her forehead and sat down into her chair. “I know, Colonel, but in the process of it all, he did injure three of our people. He could have killed them!”
“Heck, he is looking for revenge! He’s been hunted by the Wraith for seven years and I’d say that need is pretty strong.”
“Agreed. When you put it like that…look, John I’m not happy for Ronon to be walking around Atlantis without more than two guards. Three is minimum, at least.”
“I don’t think that three, four or even five will be adequate. He took out over seven Atlantis personnel in that escape attempt.” John sighed. “He did warn me that Keilty and Daniels wouldn’t be enough, I should have realised.”
“Did Ronon tell you why he didn’t go through the gate in the end, why he changed his mind?”
“Not really.” Shepherd looked over the gate room and watched as the personnel caught up in Ronon’s escape were slowly getting things back to normal. It had been an impressive attempt, especially with how Ronon had managed to get past the defences, disable the command staff, open the gate and get back down there. But it was puzzling that at the last minute the Satedan stopped himself and allowed Shepherd to apprehend him. “He made a request though.”
“A request?”
“He wants to use our training room.”
“He wants to use our training room?” Weir was utterly puzzled. “He could have escaped through the Stargate and instead he changes his mind in order to use our training room?”
“He’s a man who really needs to vent out a lot of grief and anger and I’d say let him but let him take it out on the gym equipment and not our people. Once he’s destroyed things in there he might settle down.”
“Settle down? I don’t know about that John.” Weir sighed. She looked to be thinking about the situation for a moment. John could see that she wasn’t too keen on the idea, especially when this man had taken Teyla hostage and had taken out marines and trained SG personnel without so much as a sweat, but Sheppard knew she understood why he was like this. How would any of them react if they found out Earth had been destroyed and they were all that remained? Weir finally nodded in agreement with Sheppard. “Fine, let him use the gym and if he wants to leave after that, he’s more than welcome to, provided he doesn’t compromise our security here. Colonel, I want you to make sure that Ronon understands that.”
Sheppard nodded his thanks and when Weir smiled, he took it as read that he could leave.
Once he told Ronon that he could use the training room and when the Satedan specialist vented and grieved in his own way, he hoped that Ronon would decide to stay on Atlantis instead of leave. Someone with his skills and expertise was too good to pass up. He would make a great ally.
Sheppard wasn’t going to mention that to Weir yet, he wanted Ronon the opportunity to think about it first.
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He couldn’t sleep.
Painting wasn’t helping him as it usually did but then who could after that escape attempt happened? Lorne couldn’t believe the man was still here, that Weir and Sheppard were allowing him to remain, especially after Ronon had put three marines into the infirmary with broken appendages.
He had voiced his concerns about Ronon Dex, as any good XO would, but it appeared that Sheppard had his own plans. Evan may not have agreed but it was his CO’s call and he would say nothing more on the matter, unless Dex did something further to jeopardise Atlantis and their safety.
Not happy with his latest attempts at artistic creation, Evan put down his brush and made a grab for a t-shirt. He put it on and then snatched up his bag. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in this state so he left his quarters and headed straight for the training room.
A good work out on the punch bags and other equipment might relieve this frustration and tire him out.
When he got there and saw the familiar statue like forms of Keilty, Chang and Daniels standing outside, he felt a disgruntled groan leave his mouth. Ronon was in there.
Through the doors he could hear the sounds of deep furious grunting and of hard thumping impacts with the punch bag. Ronon was having a serious anger management session.
Any sensible person would have turned around and walked away at this point. Evan Lorne usually and most of the time had a level head on his shoulders and as a major in USAF he’d know when to fight and when not to, but everything about this new ‘guest’ had his hackles up.
Yes, Ronon Dex was the last of his kind and it was horrible for him to learn of his people’s demise, Lorne felt great sympathy for him because of that, but there was something that wasn’t quite right about the Satedan. They knew nothing about him, what kind of a man he was or whether he could be trusted. Yes he had been in the military, but even Earth’s military had bad eggs amongst them.
Lorne was too wound up and wired to think more about what is was that was making him distrust the man more than usual, especially when it was five am in the morning. Jeez, he had been up all night? He needed to tire himself out, to take the edge off this tension he was feeling. Lorne could have gone for a run, but no, he pushed open the doors and walked inside.
As soon as he stepped over the threshold, Ronon halted his workout. The room became silent and the four marines who had been watching Ronon stood to attention when they saw it was Lorne who had come in. The other three guards from outside quickly followed, looking just as concerned as the others.
“Sir, he’s been doing this all night, he hasn’t stopped. I wouldn’t approach him if I were you.”
Lorne ignored Keilty’s warning; he could see for himself that the Satedan had worked up more than a sweat, that his grief was still fueling him.
Stripped from the waist up, with his feet also bare, the sweat was pouring off Ronon’s mocha skin. His long thick dreadlocks were soaked as well and he had pinned them up high on the top of his head, only a few of which had fallen loose around his shoulders. Ronon’s hands were bandaged and his blood soaked through the strips and spatters of it covered the red plastic of the punch bag.
Ronon looked tired too, dark bags showed under his eyes but there was a fierce determination to keep going. He was staring at Lorne with the same primal, vicious and intimidating manner as before, along with a powerful longing to dish out some serious hurt. The grin planted on his face clearly showed that he wanted to fight with Lorne and that he was looking forward to using him as some kind of punch bag.
Ronon had more than several inches on Lorne, his height was a powerful advantage as well as the size of his bulk, but that had never deterred Lorne with past opponents. He had been against bigger and bested them. If Ronon had been doing this all night, he would be tired which would be a definite advantage for Lorne, but Ronon would also be unpredictable in this state. Sparring with him would prove to be an interesting challenge.
But if he were to join Ronon on that mat, the both of them knew that it wasn’t going to be a simple sparring match. So Lorne said nothing; neither of them did as Lorne threw his bag down, stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes to join Ronon on the crash mat.
Evan, what are you doing? This is not a good idea. Turn around, get your things and go for a fucking run.
“Sir! Major? Are you seriously going to go ahead with this?”
The concern of all the Marines was ignored again. Foolishly.
Lorne took up a defensive stance and the two men began to circle one another, eyeing each other for almost five minutes, watching for weaknesses to exploit.
Ronon attacked first.
His fist cracked hard to Lorne’s jaw and Lorne stumbled back. Once again the Marines went to Lorne’s aid but he held up his hand in warning to keep them back. When they did, Lorne rubbed at his jaw, it wasn’t broken but it had been a hefty punch as the pain throbbed through his skull. Ronon smirked. Lorne realised that it wasn’t a full on punch, a guy of his size could quite easily kill someone with a single punch if he wanted. This was supposed to hurt.
Immediately a second jab caught Lorne in the ribs whilst he was still reeling from the blow to his face and a foot swiped at his leg. The blow to his ribs wasn’t hard either, but it still damned hurt, as did his back when his legs came out from underneath him and Lorne landed heavily on his back. Lorne rolled, flipped back to his feet quickly and the circling begun again. Ronon looked so pleased with himself, in fact he looked like a cat playing with a mouse, as if this was only teasing Lorne.
USAF officers and Marines have intense and rigorous training before they became officers and Marines, but not all had the extra expertise Evan Lorne had gone through. He knew and had mastered several kinds of martial arts, and during his time at the SGC, Teal’c had personally taught him Jaffa fighting methods, and now, those skills didn’t let him down when he retaliated.
Ronon managed to block some of the hits Lorne gave, but the ones that did connect made him stagger. Lorne also blocked the Satedan’s responses as well and that pissed Ronon off no end. He was livid as he clearly didn’t expect a puny human from Earth to be able to do this to him.
Right jab to the abdomen. Left upper cut to the face. Swing, duck, turn, jump, downward kick to the back of the leg and…right fist to the face.
Lorne smiled.
Blood dripped now from Ronon’s lip.
A furied rumble sounded from the younger man and his retaliation came quick and hard.
Lorne again managed to block and dodge some of Ronon’s assaults but even through fatigue the man was a tough opponent. If Ronon wasn’t tired, this fight might be more his but those bloodied fists that impacted with Evan still hurt. A lot.
It was the particularly harsh crack to the back of his head that sent Lorne down.
When Lorne collapsed, his head was spinning and he hacked and coughed violently before rolling on the mat in agony. He didn’t think he would be able to get back up after that, he could taste blood in his mouth and his limbs were aching, protesting.
He really should stop and normally Lorne would, knowing when it was best to give up. He wasn’t going to.
“Major!”
He heard the approaching boots of the guards but they stopped. The guards backed away when through blurred eyes Lorne saw Ronon standing above him, seething with anger and frustration.
“Get up.” The Satedan hissed, spitting onto the mat beside Lorne. “Get up!”
Lorne thought he heard one of the guards calling for Sheppard, for assistance from anyone who could get here quick enough and then he heard himself yell at them to belay that order. For some strange reason, he didn’t want any interference and certainly not from his CO.
What the hell are you doing? This is not like you! Do you hate this guy that much? How could you? You don’t know him!
He gasped for air and rolled again, several times in fact, and when he tried to get to his knees Ronon kept him down, kicking him back to the floor when he appeared to be succeeding. After one violent boot to Lorne’s stomach, he thought he had lost and this was the end of it, but with a sweep of his foot, he felt it connect with a leg and the Satedan was upended to the floor next to him.
Lorne quickly scrambled over Ronon, jabbing his elbow directly into Ronon’s stomach and winding him which allowed Lorne to get in other harder jabs to Ronon’s torso. Once Lorne somehow got to his feet, he allowed Ronon to do the same and then for a brief moment Lorne was overcome with a wave of curiosity. There was a brief pleading, almost begging expression in Ronon’s eyes, as if he wanted Lorne to keep kicking him and pummeling the crap out of him. He could see a part of Ronon wanted to feel the pain as much as he was giving out.
Lorne knew that feeling all too well. He had lost close friends and family members and the anguish was crippling to a point of numbness that was unbearable.
Both clambered to regain their footing and while every part of Lorne’s body was feeling as if it was going to break apart, he managed to dodge Ronon’s next onslaught.
Regaining a new surge in strength, Lorne took advantage of Ronon’s haphazard flailing punches and fought back with successive punches and kicks which dropped the Satedan back to his knees. The momentary frailty in Dex changed back to anger and he tried to attack again, but as he approached Lorne on his knees, his arms swung pathetically in an attempt to hit him.
“Stop. It’s over.”
Lorne’s request fell on deaf ears. Two hands latched onto his waist, clawing fingers dug into his already bruised sides and dragged him down. Ronon was seething, spit and blood hissed from between his teeth and when that sneering grin formed on his face, Lorne reacted, but not quickly enough.
Ronon head butted him and both men fell on their backs writhing from the brunt of it. Lorne heard what was clearly a spewing of Satedan swear words and he had a few curses of his own as the whole room spun around him.
Oh god I’m going to feel like hell later. I think I have concussion…
Moving was extremely difficult but not impossible and so Lorne crawled to Ronon and from behind locked his arm around Ronon’s neck, hauling them both off the floor and onto their knees. They struggled, Ronon tried to pry Lorne’s arm from his neck, but it was pretty futile.
“Get out!” Lorne heard himself yell another order to the marines, but they didn’t move. “I said get out! Now! That is an order!”
“So what?” Ronon spat, clawing his nails into Lorne’s skin. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Don’t tempt me!” Lorne winced and blinked a couple of times before steadying himself more as Ronon began to thrash in his hold. The Marines were still here, their guns raised. “Get out!”
The sound of the doors told Lorne that the Marines had indeed left, but he didn’t loosen his hold on Ronon, who was squirming even more.
“You need to stop this now,” Lorne ordered in Ronon’s ear, “because you’re really not helping yourself.”
“Like any of you care about what happens to me.”
“Oh we care, we do. I care about what happens to you and to a lot of people, but I do have to be honest and say I don’t particularly like you, which is strange as I get along with most people. Sheppard wants you to stay…me not so much, but he’s my CO and I will follow his orders. Now, I’m sorry that your world is gone and I’m sorry you’ve lost everything—!”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!”
“—but I have had enough. I’m tired and hurting and so this ends now. The guards will take you back to your room and then, hopefully, you’ll calm the hell down.”
“Whatever.” Ronon jerked violently again but achieved nothing. “Why did you send the guards out?”
“You don’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable. I’d feel the same way… I’m trying to do you a favour.”
“I’m not weak and I don’t need any of your fucking favours either!”
Ronon bolted, he twisted and turned, but Lorne held firm. Then Ronon just lurched up and over slamming Lorne onto his back. Lorne managed to keep his hold and wrapped his legs around Ronon’s waist.
Ronon struggled more, his restricted breathing clearly not stopping him, but Lorne was taken by surprise as Ronon twisted the both of them round so he was facing the floor, then he rose up to his knees and onto his feet with Lorne still clinging to his back.
“Oh shit.”
Ronon staggered to and fro on unsteady feet with Lorne holding onto him before he was shoved hard against the wall several times and at last his grip around Ronon’s neck and waist dropped away, but he did not.
Ronon turned quickly to face Lorne. His body thrust hard into him again and slammed him against the wall as his hand slid around Evan’s throat. Lorne tried to pry the fingers apart and pull the hand away; he flailed with his feet to find the ground, he coughed and spluttered for breath, but then those eyes stared at him, dark angry, hurting eyes bore into him, along with a heaving panting breath of spit and blood.
Ronon didn’t need to say anything, for Lorne could feel the confliction within Dex through the heaving pants of their chests, he could see it in the expressions on Ronon’s face, interchanging from hatred to gut wrenching sorrow. He could feel Ronon finally waning, tiring too, as his grip on his neck loosened and his body finally dropped Lorne to the floor. Lorne would have collapsed completely, but the heavy form of Ronon’s torso still pressed against him.
“I don’t want your pity.” Ronon sneered, barely containing his contempt and rage.
“What? You just want this?” Lorne looked over the blood and bruises on both of their bodies and grimaced. “You need to fight…to hurt?”
Ronon nodded and kept his head bowed low, so low that their faces were close to touching.
“Makes me know I’m alive. The pain…all of it…I need to feel it.”
“So you take it out on me?”
“Why not?”
Lorne was going to tell him that it was because he didn’t trust him, that he didn’t like him and wanted him gone from the city; he was going to tell Ronon that this was also really bad timing as today has been a really bad day for him and—dammit!—he should have gone for the run instead, but as they both continued to squirm against each other, it wasn’t long before both of them realised that the whole fight had brought on completely different and unexpected feelings, new stirrings, startling and hard.
“Oh shit!”
Their eyes fluttered closed, for a moment he thought he felt the Satedan’s lips brush with his, along with the tingles of the hairs of Ronon’s beard, but Lorne definitely felt an arousing heat pool in his groin as a not-too-little hardness rubbed against his thigh. He began to stiffen as well and his breath caught in his throat in horror.
Panic swelled up in Evan’s chest and his knee rose sharply on instinct, connecting painfully between Ronon’s legs. The Satedan bellowed and collapsed to the floor cradling injured genitals. Lorne staggered away from the wall, dazed beyond belief and stumbled around the room in confused circles.
Oh god….oh god…this isn’t happening! This did not just happen!
Lorne looked at Ronon, still groaning on the floor holding his crotch, and frowned. A terrifying fear was now pounding in his chest, making his breathing even more difficult and he tried to shake it off. He shook his head in denial. This was not normal, not for him.
Lorne liked a fight as much as the next guy but this was way beyond his comfort zone. Never had he ever had this reaction when he fought, training or otherwise, and certainly not towards guys. The warm sweat that sheened over his bare chest was now turning cold. Lorne began to shake.
“Major Lorne!”
Lorne spun round at the familiar voice calling out his name and he snapped to attention, covering his semi-erection with his hands in the hope that it would diminish now he and Ronon and stopped trying to beat each other up.
“Get Ronon to the infirmary, now.” Sheppard’s command to the Marines was quickly followed out. Ronon was walked out and as he passed Lorne, he gave him a look of absolute hatred.
When the doors shut, the whole room was eerily quiet except for the slight squeak of Sheppard’s boots as the Colonel paced in front of him. Evan was hugely aware of how hard and fast his heart was beating and when the dizzying haze began to clear, he could finally focus.
He was in trouble.
Lorne could only look at the wall as Sheppard stopped pacing and stood in front of him.
Sheppard was a laid back CO, which was why he and Lorne worked so well together in commanding the military on Atlantis. Their friendship was probably the only reason why Sheppard was not raging like other COs Lorne had known, yet he was pissed off at something and Lorne knew all too well what it was.
He had let him down.
There would be no excuses, no lies. He should tell John the truth, but not the bit about suddenly getting a stiff one from having a fight with Ronon and from being so close to actually kissing him.
“Major…would you care to tell me, why my quiet evening in with Johnny Cash was interrupted? Why I was called down here by the Marines telling me my XO was allowing himself to be beaten up by our new guest?”
“I wasn’t allowing myself to be beaten up, sir,” Lorne responded, still not able to look at Sheppard. “Technically we were beating each other up. It was a sparring match and it…kinda got out of hand…sir.”
“So I noticed.” John sighed and became less than formal, resting a hand on Lorne’s shoulder, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Look, Evan, I know you have doubts about him and you’re right to have them. I do too. There’s a lot we don’t know about Ronon which is why I’ve asked Teyla, Beckett and Heightmeyer to keep an eye on him whilst he stays here and give me their opinions. It’s why I want you to watch him too, to see if I’m right about him. Lorne, you’re a good officer, one of the best I’ve served with and I respect your opinions, I want you to help me out here. I have this vibe about Dex…”
You’re not the only one. Lorne slightly cringed and briefly looked down to make sure his hands were still covering himself. But I really doubt yours is giving you a hard on.
“Ronon has proven himself to be an exceptional fighter, he knows his way around and if he wants to stay, if he adapts to our way of things, I reckon he’ll become a beneficial and useful ally. Maybe he’ll even become an integral part of one of our teams, but I can’t proposition that idea to Weir until I’m confident enough with who he is. When my men are starting fights with him and letting said fights get out of hand, when my XO seemingly forgets his place, it doesn’t help my position. I need your support, Evan and that means not getting into scraps and pummelling the man into mush.”
“I understand, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
No more sparring with Dex. Definitely. Not ever.
Sheppard smiled and bobbed his head with approval. He knew that Lorne would be good on his word.
“Good. In the meantime, be civil and nice to the guy, like you are to everyone else. Ronon is the last surviving member of his race, surely you can be nice to him as well?”
“Of course, sir. I can and I will.”
“Excellent.”
“Is that all, Colonel?” Lorne hoped and wished that it was.
Sheppard shook his head. “Are you okay? This really isn’t like you to go off on one even when you’re sparring. Y’know, I thought I was the calm and collected one, but you make me look like McKay on a bad day. Not today though. The Marines were pretty concerned about you as well. Don’t you usually read a book or draw or whatever instead of getting all worked up?”
“Usually, yeah, but I’m okay, really, sir. I just couldn’t sleep and my usual methods weren’t working. I was a little wired and I couldn’t think or relax properly either. I guess I needed to blow off some steam, tire myself out physically.”
“Well, you’d best get some sleep, after you’ve checked your injuries with Beckett in the infirmary, first. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Lorne quickly headed for the door, but before he could get away, Sheppard called out to him.
“Major, as you interrupted my JC evening and for your conduct, I will expect you to apologise to Ronon and to the guys who witnessed it all. I can’t have either of them thinking that what you did was acceptable. Is that clear?”
All he needed to do was give them an apology? That was a very light reprimand. Lorne nodded in acceptance. Sheppard wasn’t finished though.
“Also, McKay is giving a lecture on one of his experiments later today, for the science team’s benefit he said. It’s mandatory for them apparently and Rodney said it will take about four hours, give or take. Consider yourself under orders to attend it. In full.”
Oh shit.
Sheppard grinned.
“I would have gone for a run if I were you.”
Yeah, I should have done.