Specialization

Green.

The cursor blinked a bright, almost annoying green color on the computer screen. Then it zipped along, morphing into a series of letters and numbers. An IDC code, one that John Sheppard recognized. A brisk nod was all it took for the technician to hit a key, to accept the transmission. Another nod and Rodney McKay was opening the Iris, allowing the Stargate's wormhole to engage. A long KAWOOSH of matter stream shot out, then fell back to a shimmering pool.

John folded his arms across his chest, staring down at the Stargate. He hadn't bothered to stop at his room. Hadn't bothered to change into less rumpled clothes. Hadn't bothered to clean up after the wild, wild sex with Moira O'Meara. He shifted his stance a little, just a little. A quick smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. A swift echo of pleasure emanated for a mere second. He could still feel Moira. Feel her moist heat on his skin, could taste her aroma on him. Recalled the frantic, nearly forceful coupling. The way he had left her. The things he had said.

He frowned, shoving it all aside, glanced over to see Rodney looking at him. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing. You seem deep in thought, is all."

"Yeah." He looked back as a team emerged from the 'Gate. Elizabeth Weir smiled, like a cat who had just found a bowl of cream. Evan Lorne and the marines followed her, also appearing well-pleased. John schooled his expression, strode down to the 'Gate room to greet them.

"John!" Elizabeth said, smiling broadly. "Rodney!" she greeted as the scientist joined them. She held up a ZPM.

"Well done!" Rodney grinned, taking it from her. "How did you–"

"Skillful negotiation," Evan answered, smiling. "Sir," he glanced at John. "Doctor Weir danced rings around their objections and secured us a working ZPM!"

"And what did it cost us?" John asked, meeting her gaze.

Taken aback by his suspicion her smile dimmed. "Nothing, John. Nothing but some trade agreements and an alliance. That is all. I'm more concerned about your mission. Ford?"

"Long story. Well, short story, actually, since he wasn't there. More importantly we need to discuss security measures for all teams leaving Atlantis." He gestured for her to proceed him out of the room. Turned. "Lorne, have your men stand down for now. Debrief in thirty."

"Yes, sir." Evan directed his men out of the room.

"A ZPM!" Rodney turned it round in his hands, fingers running up and down the orange and yellow device. "Wait! It is operational, right?

"Yes, Rodney," Elizabeth called over her shoulder. "It's not fully powered, but I'm sure you can boost its energy somehow." She entered her office, set down her pack on her desk and turned as John followed her. "You said Ford wasn't there?"

"No, he wasn't. But he left a calling card." John stood near the desk. "Abducted Teyla and Radek, took them to another planet and left them for me to find. No," he held up a hand, "they're both fine. Unharmed. It was just a ploy to show what he can do."

"Wonderful," Elizabeth noted, sitting in her chair. She frowned. "We need to catch him, John. Before he decides to up the ante."

"I know. But until I can find him and secure him we need to be extra cautious out there. I'm thinking we increase the marines on every team, and only send scientists when it is absolutely necessary. We can't risk more of our people falling into his hands...especially McKay. We can't trust Ford to be so lenient next time."

"Agreed." She pulled a data pad to her. "Was there anything else I need to know?"

"No. Well, just that Beckett is at the Alpha site. Studying some thing, some creature...in fact he should be calling in shortly."

"What? What kind of creature? John?"

But John had turned and was heading back to the control room.

Moira limped to a chair in the control room, sat and brought the screen online. She had cleaned up after the wild, wild sex with John. Had changed into a long-sleeved dark green shirt and navy pants. Had secured her hair in a ponytail. She stared at the screen, waiting. Mind going over the cavalier way that John had left her. The way he had spoken to her. The incongruity of his behavior. One moment he was suddenly romantic and loving. The next more like the ladies' man of old. Uncaring. Taking what he wanted and leaving with no strings attached.

Pushing aside her thoughts, her feelings she tapped the keyboard. Tapped it again. A blank screen met her gaze. She frowned. "Damn it," she softly complained. Tapped again. "John, could you help me here?"

John had reached the control room and stood near a console. Hearing Moira he turned, but she wasn't looking at him. He followed her line of sight and saw the technician John Anderson. The blond, skinny man smiled and moved to her. John watched as he leaned close, one hand on the keyboard, the other on the back of her chair.

"Incoming wormhole, sir. Shall I lower the Iris? Sir? Sir?

The cold ire in John's gaze made the sargeant gulp. John swallowed the emotions. "IDC?"

"Doctor Beckett, sir."

"Lower the Iris." He tapped a few keys, waited as the wormhole engaged. Glanced back to see the other John still fussing over Moira's console, speaking quietly near her ear. "Moira!" he barked, unable to help himself. "Incoming!"

Moira looked over at him. "It's not working yet, colonel." She looked back at the screen, as if dismissing him. "Oh John Anderson," she said, loud enough for him to hear. Could feel his ire across the room and briefly smiled, but did not turn.

John scowled. "Moira! You can have audio here," he offered. Waited. Waited.

Moira ignored him. But stood. "Keep trying, John, and thank you. A video link is necessary as well."

"Of course, Moira. I'll do what I can," the technician offered with a smile.

John looked at the shimmering wormhole as Moira limped over to him. Stood. "I'll do what I can," he mocked in a higher tone. "As if he could even get your console going in the first place," he muttered under his breath.

"At least he is polite," she muttered, glanced at him. "Here."

He looked at her. She held out half a sandwich. He took it as she began to eat the other half. He pondered, could not decipher her mood. Or his, for that matter. He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. "Um, Moira...I..."

"Save it, flyboy," she said. "What's taking so long?"

"Dunno." He stared at her, watching her eat. Heard the cool tone. Could imagine the anger underneath it. But she had brought him a sandwich. Half a sandwich. He devoured the food.

"Atlantis, do you read? This is Major Reynolds, Alpha site."

"Loud and clear, major. Status?"

"Site is secure, sir. The um, thing...the thing has doubled in size but has exhibited no motion otherwise. Doctor Beckett is still running his analysis but we are having trouble with the vid-link on this end."

"Same here, major," John stated. Glanced over his shoulder to see the technician on his knees now under the console. He smirked. "It doesn't look good here. There?"

"Hendricks is working on it, sir, but so far nothing."

"Colonel Sheppard!" came Carson Beckett's agitated, Scottish voice, "I need Moira here now! There is too much data for me to collate on my own, plus take samples and continue to–"

"Carson?" Moira interjected, stepping closer to John so she could be heard. "Is it?"

"Yes. Dormant."

"Dormant? How long?"

"An hour. Specifics."

"Okay."

"I need you here."

"Okay, Carson. An hour." She glanced at John who was watching her. "Um, maybe two."

"Maybe none," John stated flatly. Unmovable.

"Good! Carson, I'll be there in half an hour after the data."

"Thank you, love. Beckett out."

The wormhole disengaged. "Hey!" John tried to catch Moira's arm but she walked away from him. "Hey! What was that? How do you two still talk like that even at a distance? And there's no way you're going, Moira! Moira! Damn it!" He strode after her, pissed at her complete disregard of him.

Moira increased her pace, the limp only slowing her slightly as she made her way to the biology lab. She entered. "Laura, I need the genomes on the sub-Wraith, please, to cross-reference with the samples Carson has. And mine. Transfer them to screen three, please." She moved to a desk, sat and began to rapidly type. Attached a data pad and transferred data as it streamed across the screen. She frowned, checking enzyme levels, incubating development. Gene strands. Called up the sequences again. Again.

"What is it?" John asked, seeing her startled reaction. Her brown eyes widening. Her rosy lips parting with a slight gasp. "Moira?"

"Nothing." She glanced at him. Glanced at him again, eyes narrowing in consideration.

"What?" he repeated, nearly squirming under her scrutiny. "Look, um, Moira...I..."

"Not now, John." She looked back at the screen. Disconnected the data pad. Shut down the data. Briefly touched her abdomen. Flexed her sore foot. She stood. Turned to him as he watched her, brows furrowed in a flurry of conflicting emotions, concerns. "That explains some of it, but not all of it. Not all of it...unless...you...you...oh John..." She sighed, shook her head.

"What?" he repeated. "What? Moira? I...look, I..."

"Later! For crying out loud, John!" she flared.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh please! Like you don't even know! Come on! You...you need to make a decision!"

"I have! You are not going to the Alpha site," he said sternly.

"No! Not about that! Us! Come on! You need to come with me to the site!" He didn't move, didn't budge. "John! This is important! I have to go there now. So do you." She sighed. Touched his arm. "John, please. That...that thing, whatever it is...it's growing too rapidly. It's developing. Specialization. It's adapting to a particular lifestyle and habitat, to a specific ecological niche that shouldn't exist! It shouldn't exist at all, John! It's not, not natural! Please," she added. Fingers slightly caressing his arm now.

John sighed, cursed. Gestured and followed her out of the biology lab. "Fine! I'll grab my P90 and meet you in three! Don't you dare leave without me!" He sprinted down the hallway.

Moira stood waiting in the 'Gate room, feeling slightly ridiculous as she was alone. No one was above her dialing the Stargate. She fidgeted, moving foot to foot, testing her injured one. She turned, hearing John's voice issuing orders from the control room before striding down to her.

"You–"

"Here." He handed her an earpiece. "Foot?"

"Fine." She slipped on the comm unit, turned as the wormhole engaged. She fumbled with the data pad in her hands, suddenly nervous. "Um, John...you–"

"Later, Moira. Stay close." He led her into the wormhole. Once through the 'Gate he tapped his earpiece, swinging up his P90 in one fluid motion. "Reynolds, copy? Reynolds? Ow!" He pulled the unit off his ear, put it back with a scowl. "Loud, piercing static!"

"Could be ionic interference," she suggested, but sounded doubtful as she eyed the gray sky. Flashes of blue lightning flickered. "How far?"

"Half a klick. This way."

They walked in silence. Each absorbed in their own thoughts. Of the mission. Of each other. John cradled his P90 in his arms, gaze darting everywhere again. Searching for any possible threat. Listening for any incursion. Very aware of Moira next to him. He glanced at her. Moira was carrying her data pad under one arm, eyes on the rocky ground as she walked. Her other arm at her side, as if ready to grab him if she slipped. A wind buffeted them. Messing John's hair and making Moira's ponytail fly all over. "Do you need–"

"Help? No." She stumbled as they descended a hill. The shoe on her injured foot felt awkward, tight, but she kept her footing.

"Look, um, Moira. I...I'm sorry." She was silent. "About what happened." She didn't say a word, kept her gaze on the ground, on her feet. Navigating around rocks protruding from the dirt, the short grasses. "The second time." He waited. "The second time we had–"

"Sex?" she finished for him. "Or when you tied me up?"

"The sex," he clarified. "Not for tying you up. Look, I don't know...I mean..." He paused, tried again, feeling slightly duplicitous because he did know some of the reasons for his uncouth actions. Attitude. "I don't know exactly what came over me. To, um, take...to take you. Like that. Like that. I, um, look, it's not as if you didn't enjoy it, so..." Her silence unnerved him. He caught her arm, stopping her. "Moira, please. I didn't mean those things I said. I don't even know why I said them," he continued, gaze lowering to their feet as the lie slid easily from his lips. He met her gaze. "I don't ever want to hurt you. You know that. You're more to me than just, just–"

"Sex?" she repeated, clearly not believing him. "I know, John. That's why."

"Why? Why what?"

"You tell me." She tried to move but he kept her in place.

"Moira?" He touched her rosy cheek. Gently, very gently kissed her lips. "I'm sorry. I...I love you, Moira, I do...I just...I..." he faltered, sighed. "I don't know what came over me, that second time. I mean not just the, the...not just...it wasn't just me," he defended.

"I know." She resumed walking, gently freeing her arm from his grasp. Her gaze from his.

"You, well good! Good that you know!" He followed after her. "Know what?"

She briefly smiled. "That is wasn't entirely your fault. Or mine. That you weren't exactly yourself...were you?"

"No! I mean, well...yeah...some...some." He strolled beside her. Feeling the unusual need to explain, to fill in the heavy silences. "I mean...the way I treated you, the way I...the things I said and stuff. I was that guy...but not with you. I don't want to be with you. No, I didn't mean it like that, I meant I don't want to be that way with...oh fuck this! Moira, you know what I mean! I'm not good at this!"

"I know," she stated. Taking pity on his flustered floundering.

"Okay, okay, you know. You know," he said, sounding relieved. But he frowned, still feeling her coolness. Almost scientific detachment. "What is it that you know, exactly?"

"I know why you acted like that, why I did, at least from a physiological standpoint. Not the rest of it."

"And?" he prompted, becoming irritated by her short answers. Her seeming indifference.

"We were compelled. Our sexual desires were driven into a frenzy. You wanted not only sex but to mate with me. You were trying to impregnate me. Same as that sub-Wraith, although that was more of an incubation than an impregnation. This whole thing is about sexual reproduction. The enzyme. The bugs. But the thing that came out of my foot has several genetic anomalies. Hence its accelerated growth and possible psychic influences. It contains several conflicting DNA strands. Maybe even your retro-virus but most definitely my human DNA. It shouldn't exist but it does. Feeding off of us, our energies, drawing on our sexual energies to accelerate itself. Who knows what it's feeding on now?" She suddenly noticed she was alone. Turned. "John?"

John was standing several feet away from her. Frozen in his tracks. Staring. Seemingly in shock, as if a brick had hit him. Silent. Grasping his P90 tightly, as if to defend himself.

Moira frowned, walked back to him. "John? Hello? We have to reach the Alpha base, right? Come on!" She led him but stopped, turned again. He hadn't moved. "John!"

He shook his head. "I...I was trying to, to, to make you pregnant?" he slowly, slowly asked. As if dazed by the very idea.

"Yes. Subconsciously, underneath the sex drive there was the instinct to mate. Like the bug. As for the rest of your charming behavior, that was all you, John. Come on, would you?" She turned, headed down the pathway.

John forced his emotions aside. Followed. "I wasn't! I just wanted...I just needed..."

"To fuck me. Yes, John, I know, but also to mate. It wasn't your fault, not entirely."

"Moira, I swear! I wasn't trying to–" John persisted, as if he hadn't heard her.

"I know, John. Don't you see?" She sighed. "It's the prime motivation. To continue the species. To mate. In the case of the sub-Wraith they apparently rely on more insect-like reproductive methods, but advance to a more human physiology, or rather the drive does. It's almost a cellular evolution, an adaptation to a particular–"

"Stop!" He caught her arm suddenly, raised his gun. "Reynolds, copy? Reynolds? Ow!" He moved in front of her. Proceeded cautiously, pushing aside her disturbing information. The camp was in view. So was a marine on the ground. Unmoving. John scanned the area. Listened. Heard only the wind moaning in the desolate trees. He ran. Crouched next to his fallen comrade, felt for a pulse. Relieved to find one. "He's alive! Just knocked out."

"So is he." Moira had followed and was kneeling by another fallen marine. "Carson!" She rose, ran awkwardly to the tent.

"Moira!" John followed on her heels.