by Lady J
A/N : the battle of Grenada (Operation Urgent Fury)took place from 23 October to 21 November 1983. Slight spoilers for The Hive.
~*~Marcus was a teenager when his mother shipped out to Grenada. One phone call in the middle of the night, a kiss to his forehead and she was gone. Jennifer Lorne was away for just over a month but to her son and her husband, it felt like forever.
Lorne lit the small votive candle in front of the picture and watched as the flame flickered into life.
The picture, an image of Teyla kitted out in her away team uniform with her staves tucked under one arm, rested against a tall glass enclosed candle on the altar. Other mementos decorated the altar's surface as did candles, sticks of incense, at least one Tibetan singing bowl and various icons and statues.
Situated in a far off corner in Atlantis' makeshift chapel, this was the soldiers' space. No one knew who started it. By the time Lorne arrived in Atlantis, the altar had sprouted into a kaleidiscope of belief that somehow managed to encompass even the self-identified athiests and agnostics in the expedition.
Pictures were an integral of the landscape. Over time, each and every soldier's picture had been posted on the altar itself or on the wall behind it. Some were new, others had dates written beneath the image. There were too many of those to look at comfortably.
**
They watched the network news only a few times during the conflict (it wasn't big enough to call a war) and instead opted to get their information from the shortwave radio. The BBC always had the best broadcast and Marcus and his father would leave it on for the better part of the evening.
Jennifer was out there, on a tiny Carribean island, probably working triage while her son and husband went on with their lives. It still amazed Marcus that his parents were together at all: she was Army, his father a former Marine. Somehow they worked. They had him and they were family even when Jennifer was gone.
Every night they lit a candle and put it in the window. "Always leave a light on," Thomas said. "That way she can find her way home."
Teyla's picture on the altar had been a surprise. The juxtaposition of her Atlantean uniform and her own weapons was not lost on him: Teyla bridged both worlds with a deft grace that Lorne admired. But he hadn't realized that many considered her a soldier like themselves and worthy of respect on that basis alone. The picture was evidence of that.
Lorne sat back on the hard metal chair and contemplated the candle's flicker against the image.
AR-1 was still missing. Somewhere in the black, on a Wraith ship. His stomach twisted as his mind supplied the "what ifs" and "maybes." He brutally stamped out the doubts and concentrated on the woman who had slowly settled in a safe place inside of him.
**
"How do you stand it?" Marcus asked his father late one Saturday night. "The waiting?"
They sat on the porch together watching the stars while Thomas puffed on a cigarette. A few moments passed before he finally answered.
"It's hard to wait," he began. "The news turns bad or we don't hear from her for a while; that's when it's really rough. The not knowing."
He stubbed his cigarette on the ground and flipped the butt into the ashtray. "I used to tell myself that your mom was safe, way behind the front lines. That no one would dare try and hit a hospital." Thomas didn't turn toward his son but looked out over the backyard towards the stand of trees that stood at the far end. "That's my mind talking. My heart knows different. I've been out there. I know what it's like. And I know that no one place is actually safe."
Moonlight glinted on his father's prematurely silver hair, still cut high and tight even after he'd left the Corps.
"When Jen and I got together, I knew this would be part of it. Waiting for her. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to fix it, to go out and find her if she ever got lost." Thomas looked at his Marcus then. "So all I can do is this. Wait. Pray. Keep you safe and keep us going while she's gone."
A cold breeze caressed Marcus' skin and he shivered. "Does it ever get easier?"
A pause. "No."
He never thought he'd be in this place himself, waiting for news of someone he cared about. But the Pegaus Galaxy broke all the rules. It was one big front line.
His radio crackled to life. "Major Lorne, please report to the Daedalus."
"On my way."
His hand reached out and brushed the edge of Teyla's picture, taking in one last look before he left the room. As he walked towards the transport tube, Rodney joined him.
"Major."
He barely spared the other man a glance. "Dr. McKay."
The two men walked in silence. Just as they were about to step into the tube, Rodney turned to Lorne. "We'll get them back," he said fiercely, clutching his hands together to stop them from shaking. The forced withdrawl from the Wraith enzyme, though successful, was not without its costs.
A myriad of emotions flickered across the scientist's face with the most dominant one being a calm determination. Lorne felt something shift inside him and he nodded at Rodney.
"Yeah, doc, we'll get them back."
Or die trying, he added to himself. Either way, the waiting was over.