Grand Tour

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T

Content Warning: Coarse language mostly, some violence and adult themes.

Season: Set in 1999, four years before Enemy Mine.

Summary: On a trip around Europe, Captain Evan Lorne gets a lot more than he bargained for. Again, pure Lorne, AU, and following on from Call Sign, set two years later. Will feature some OC's from that story.

Classifications: General, mystery

Pairings: none

Spoilers for: None ... extremely minor spoiler for the audio drama Impressions, read by Kavan Smith.

Acknowledgements: The internet! You wouldn't believe how many websites I visited researching this one. Will mention them as best I can where it's most relevant, or at the end of the story.

Disclaimer: The Stargate characters, storylines, etc aren't mine. I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Stargate or any of its media franchises – if I was Lorne would have been in A LOT more episodes. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. The original characters and plot and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2009 ShaViva

oOo

Authors Note:

This story was born out of listening to the Stargate Atlantis audio drama Impressions, starring Lorne and read by Kavan Smith. He says "when I was younger I went on a trip around Europe ... backpacking ..." and I thought, oooh – that's interesting! I did take direction from what little detail about the specifics was included (because I knew next to nothing about art before I started this) but no other link to that story is intended or implied.

This is by far the most research intensive piece I've ever written. I live as far away from Europe as you can get. I've never been there, never seen any of the things mentioned in the story in real life ... I've relied heavily on a number of internet sites to give this story its atmosphere and populate its environment, so please be understanding if inadvertent errors have crept in.

It's all written so there shouldn't be delays in posting ... just the time I always take to edit each chapter before I post it.

The story starts in June of 1999 ... Lorne is now 28 and still a Captain – everything else will be revealed as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy!

oOo

Grand Tour:
An extended journey made by educated people (not necessarily the aristocracy) to Italy and other countries in the 1700s,
broadening their knowledge and experiences and serving as an education rite of passage.

Chapter 1: Medusa

Location: Italy
Key Date: Thursday, 4th June, 1999

Captain Evan Lorne turned sightless eyes to the window, not really registering the scenery flashing by outside as he considered the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

He'd hitched a ride from the base at Vicenza to Pordenone in the early morning before catching the next available train to Florence and the first destination in his journey. Travelling first class – money wasn't an issue for someone who'd been earning a salary for years but had never really spent it on anything beyond basics – he'd managed to find a compartment that for the moment was unoccupied. The trip was more than five hours long and already half over but still he'd failed to put pen to paper.

What could he say that would explain the abrupt turn his life had taken? "Dear Mom, I've run away to see the world" didn't really cut it as he'd been in the air force since leaving high school and had already seen plenty of that world.

"Dear Mom, a friend you never met was killed and I needed to get away" wasn't a letter he wanted to write either. He wasn't ready to get into that kind of explanation, no matter how true it was, and the details would only bring back memories his family had struggled to overcome.

With a sigh, Lorne rolled his shoulders to loosen tense muscles, tapping his pen lightly against his cheek as he thought, and then finally began to write.

"Dear Mom,

Don't be worried okay. I know – that's a terrible way to start a letter but I needed to state it up front before you read the rest of this. I'm taking a break from the air force ... just for a few months. And no, I haven't gone AWOL – got full approval from Vicenza AFB and the folks at Air Combat Command in Virginia. When I get back I should be assigned somewhere in the US, so that's good, right?

Okay, so the break. Remember how we always talked about the Grand Tours of old? Young men travelling around Europe, soaking up the cultural sites and finishing off their educations? Well, I finally realised something the other day ... I'm not getting any younger and if I want to do something like that, now's the time. I've been so focussed on my career – the flying and then trying to get in to NASA – I haven't taken any time to just kick back and do something purely for the enjoyment of it.

So that's what I'm doing. Right now I'm on a train to Florence ... got a date with Caravaggio's Medusa. I'll write and make you envious describing what it's like going real life on every painting we only ever dreamed about seeing.

I'm okay so don't worry about me. Tell Elaine I'll write to her soon.

Yours, Evan."

He reread the letter more than once, looking for the things he knew would be red flags to his Mom. It wasn't perfect but without an outright lie, something he never did, it was the best he could do.

Quickly folding it and then stuffing it into an envelope, he wrote on the outside and then tucked it away in his jacket pocket, ready to post once he got to Florence. Sure, he could have called but they were a close knit family. His Mom would have known he wasn't exactly okay inside of five seconds, wheedling the full story from him probably ten seconds after that. And that just brought him back to the 'not ready to talk about it' thing.

Eyes back on the view outside, his thoughts were still elsewhere. His commanding officer from the Aviano base (where he'd been stationed after finishing up at Cold Lake) had been more than a little surprised when Lorne had requested a meeting and then respectfully stated that he was applying for an extended leave of absence.

Major Lee Harrison wasn't stupid – he'd known some of what was driving Evan but thankfully hadn't made Lorne explain his motivations. Instead the Major had nodded, stated that based on Lorne's service record he couldn't see it being an issue, and promised to endorse the request as soon as it was lodged.

Evan was glad it had been as simple as that because he wasn't sure he could explain why he was doing what he was currently doing. What he'd written to his Mom was true – they had talked about touring the art galleries of Europe and it was something he'd always wanted to do. But if it had been a driving ambition he'd have done it a long time ago. At the back of his mind Evan knew he was using a vague yearning from the past to justify a simple truth. He was burned out and it was either take a break or ... he didn't know what, and didn't want to find out. He'd fed his intellect, his spirit and his ambition for as long as he could remember. And while it sounded beyond corny, the need to feed his soul, to reconnect with the other side of himself, was something he could no longer ignore.

"Time to get some balance," he murmured under his breath, resting his head back against his seat and closing his eyes tiredly.

oOo

Walking down the Palazzo degli Uffizi late the same day, Lorne almost chuckled at himself. Dressed in his civvies – blue denim jeans, dark blue sweater over a white t-shirt, black leather jacket – he felt unlike himself, too used to going around in uniform with its implied identity attached. You didn't have to portray yourself as anything in particular when your clothes alone so loudly proclaimed your place in the world.

But then, that was part of what his journey was all about ... finding himself without the uniform making it easy for him.

It was early enough in the season that the queue to get into the Uffizi Gallery was short. Lorne joined the back, nodding politely to the older couple in front of him before glancing curiously around. The building had been completed in the late 1500s, constructed in part to house the works owned by the Medici family. Gaining entry a few minutes later, Evan walked the long route down the main corridor, eyes on the ceiling frescos as much as they were on the paintings adorning the walls. He scanned the gallery map as he walked, exiting into the narrow courtyard between the Uffizi's two wings and then entering the main structure on the other side again.

He wanted to see everything of course, but visiting this particular gallery wasn't without purpose. He was there for Medusa ... an oil, painted on canvas and mounted on a wooden shield by Caravaggio in 1597 for the reigning Medici of the time. Tracking his way through the halls he finally found her ... standing a few steps away Evan looked at the first of his 'must see' works.

She was impressive ... and unexpected. According to Greek mythology Perseus had used the severed head of the Gorgon Medusa as a shield to turn his enemies to stone. He'd been challenged with what had seemed an impossible task but had triumphed through reason and logic. By the 16th century the image of Medusa had symbolised courage in defeating ones enemies, hence it being commissioned for the work now on display.

What made it interesting, what Evan couldn't have divined from a picture alone was how perspective had been used to create a macabre illusion. The surface of the shield looked concave but was in fact convex and Medusa's head seemed to project into space, the blood at her neck falling to the floor.

Evan stood for untold minutes looking at the work, thinking about what it meant. Courage in the face of impossible odds. Victory. Things he could relate to even though victory wasn't guaranteed, no matter how much courage you applied. Something he'd learned all too well recently.

Medusa ... mouth gaping open in anger and pain. At what she was being used to do – defeat those of her own kind? Or was it horror that twisted her face so cruelly? Because of what she did to those who looked upon her. What a fate – to have none able to glance at you without the death of cold stone. The more Evan thought about it the more he realised that Medusa as a character of legend was haunting and more than a little sad. But the painting wasn't about Medusa. There was a reason the picture depicted her as a severed head. It was about her use as the tool that delivered victory to Perseus, something much harder to see just from the image alone.

Leaving Medusa, Lorne continued through the gallery, stopping here and there but never for as long as he'd stayed with the first work. Closing time was upon him before he was ready. He'd taken the time when he'd arrived in the city to check in at a nearby hotel, doing nothing more than dropping off his pack before going out again. Now he headed back there, already resolved to returning the next day.

oOo

Travelling by yourself had the potential to be incredibly lonely ... if you let it. Evan was comfortable with his own company but equally happy to strike up casual conversation with the locals and his fellow tourists. When the same couple he'd seen at the Gallery turned up at the restaurant he'd chosen for dinner and invited him to join them - introducing themselves as Maria and Harold Luca - he'd accepted with a grateful smile.

"Now, what is a handsome young man like you doing travelling alone?" Maria asked while they waited for their food to arrive. If he had to guess, Evan would have put her at about 50 years of age, maybe five to ten years younger than her husband. She put him in mind of his own mother despite the lack of similarity in their appearance. His mother was slender and delicate whereas Maria was more stocky, solid but still feminine. With her dark brown hair and eyes that seemed almost black, Lorne could see that she'd obviously been quite the beauty in her youth, still evident in her elegant facial features, trim figure, and keen attention to her attire. No, it was that air of maternal caring that had him thinking about his own mother ... and about the letter he'd posted earlier that day.

"I was in the area for work," Evan said evasively, wary of creating more questions he didn't want to answer. "Too close not to take the opportunity to visit the Uffizi."

"And you have someone waiting for you back home?" Maria persisted, only a hint of her native Cockney accent still apparent.

"Leave the boy alone Maria," her husband, Harry, chided, sending Lorne a look of amused tolerance. With a last name like Luca it was no surprise that the other man was the stereotype of a middle to late years Italian male, with the speech patterns to match. "Our children are all married and so we travel to keep each other out of mischief ... but still, my wife is too fond of matchmaking."

"It's okay," Evan smiled easily. "I don't have someone waiting at home. No time to do that kind of thing any justice."

"Some things are too important not to make time for them," Harry took his wife's hand, the love between them evident.

"How long have you two been together?" Lorne asked curiously.

"Twenty seven years," Maria declared proudly. "We met here in Florence ... I was on an art scholarship from London and Harry came here for his work. He was in the exporting business before it became fashionable, locating items for his customers from all over the world."

"It was love at first sight," Harry admitted with a smile. "Knocked me for six and had me wanting to run for the nearest door."

"Obviously you managed to resist that urge," Evan said with an amused smile.

"Best decision I ever made," Harry shrugged. "Maria and I have been partners ever since."

"So you come to Florence regularly – celebrate how you met?" Evan asked.

"We always start in Florence," Maria shared, "on our way to other places. We will spend a week retracing the steps of the past before we move on."

"Steps of the past," Evan repeated. "I like that ... I guess that's what I'm doing too, only it's not my past."

"In a way it is," Harry suggested. "What you see of yourself in the art of the past. For what is art about if not personal reflection?"

"Yeah ... I guess that's what it should be," Lorne agreed.

"So you'll head elsewhere before you go home?" Maria asked with interest.

"I'm kind of playing it by ear," Lorne admitted. "I've got some time owing ... and there're galleries across the continent I wouldn't mind seeing first hand."

"Then perhaps we will see you at one of them," Marie declared with pleasure.

"Perhaps," Lorne agreed as their server arrived with the meals.

The rest of the evening was spent listening to Maria and Harry share stories about their travels and the things they'd seen and intended to see again this trip. Evan let himself be drawn into a discussion about art, admitting to some of the works he'd like to see. When he found himself yawning repeatedly he apologised, excusing his tiredness to the very early morning and long journey he'd completed that day. He stood to take his leave of the couple, thanking them for their company and accepting the business card Harry pressed on him.

"We'll meet and share dinner again Evan," Maria promised.

"I'd like that," Evan returned, shaking hands with them both. He stopped to pay his bill and then slowly walked back to his hotel.

oOo

He returned to the Uffizi again the next day, spending hours looking at its numerous works before finally returning to Medusa as his last stop.

Again he stood before her, lost in his thoughts as he committed the feeling of seeing her in person to memory. If nothing else, going there and seeing the painting first hand ... the feelings it invoked convinced him that he was on the right track ... the Grand Tour. He didn't know what the future held ... it was part of his self imposed rules for the journey to know only his next destination. There was still plenty to see in Florence of course, but he knew where he was going once that was done.

oOo

Two weeks later, and on the train again, Evan sat with another blank piece of paper screaming for him to fill it. He'd spent a few days in Florence before branching out across Italy in a circular route that took him back to the great city.

Before he'd left Florence the first time something had compelled him to purchase art supplies – an A3 sketch book and a basic set of lead pencils. He hadn't brought a camera, knowing that anything he'd want a photo of would lose something in the translation to film. Instead he sketched – a small section of a building or street to represent the galleries he visited, titbits of what paintings had been where, images that hinted at what he'd been thinking as he looked on the great masterpieces – his own personalised record of his journey. Getting around Italy had been easy – bus, walking and hitching a ride where he could, ably assisted by the Italian he'd picked up while stationed in the country.

Looking down, Lorne felt as if the blank sheet were glaring accusingly up at him. He'd played art gallery tourist for two weeks so you'd think he'd have plenty to write about. But he knew he couldn't fob his sister off with a trite account of the things he'd seen. His Mom would have shared his first letter which meant Elaine would be worried about him despite his assurances that he was okay. He'd delayed writing to her - too long - and now he had to give her something.

"Dear Elaine,

I know – surely I've had time in the past two weeks to jot a few words down and send them to you. Or better yet pick up the phone so you can talk to your only brother. I'm sorry ... I have no excuse. I just ... didn't know what to say.

Two weeks away from things has given me some of the distance I needed ... I will tell you about it eventually but for now just believe that I'm doing okay.

I saw Caravaggio's Medusa Lainee. She was ... awesome ... gruesome too which just doesn't come over enough in pictures. Dark but not in an oppressive way. If I added it up I probably spent a day just with her. If you believe in the inspiration behind her then you have to believe that courage can make a difference. I guess the real lesson is that courage doesn't equate to victory. It's not about winning the day ... it's about facing your fears and doing what has to be done in spite of them, knowing that you might not succeed. Some days that's a particularly tough pill to swallow.

So anyway, I'm on the train heading for Budapest and a date with Paál's The Depth of The Forest. Silence and tranquillity forever undisturbed ... sounds kind of attractive right about now. Although I always did wonder what was hidden in the trees ... maybe, seeing it in person, I'll finally find out.

Tell Mom I'll write to her soon … and yes, I'll call you … soon.

Yours, Evan."

Authors Note:

For those of you who are interested in actually seeing a picture of Caravaggio's Medusa, I have set up a page on my website. Go here:

http:// www. shaviva. com/ grandtourpictures. htm

Copy and paste this link and take out the spaces after each forward slash and dot. Alternatively I've put the link on my profile page so you can just click it from there (ff net doesn't allow you to put website addresses into your stories). I'll be adding other pictures there as the story progresses. Thank you to bailey1ak for helping me test this out to make sure it works!

I'm a little nervous about this story for some reason - probably because it practically took over my life during the three weeks where I spent every available minute writing it and I really want people to like it LOL. So please, let me know what you think. Thanks