In Restless Dreams I Walk Alone

It had to have been the scratches.

When John Sheppard thought back on it all he singled out the cause. It was the scratches. Had to have been. Long scratches across his right cheekbone, perilously close to his eye. He remembered the sting of the Wraith's claws as they slashed along his flesh. He remembered blood flowing from those four jagged cuts. He recalled shooting the Wraith at point blank range. The spray of blood showering him in a fine, crimson mist. He had briefly closed his eyes to protect them. Had wiped the spray of blood from his face, inadvertently mixing it with his own.

Could it have been that? Something so small? Something so inconsequential?

He remembered Moira fussing over him. Her gentle touches to his face, to the scratches. Her worried frown. Concern in her brown eyes. A trace of fear which she had tried to mask. Unsuccessfully. He had brushed it off. Unconcerned. The scratches had healed. He recalled her kisses along them. Soft. Gentle. All the while worrying, worrying. But nothing happened.

Not then.

His sons thought the scratches were cool. Well, Johnny did. He thought they showed how brave his father was. To go against a Wraith that close. Hand to hand. Seamus had cried. Cried at seeing his father hurt. He was the more sensitive of the two boys. Moira had consoled him. John reassured him that he was fine, that nothing could hurt daddy. Not for long, anyway.

Until this.

A month had passed. A month of daily blood tests. A month of analysis. He had been off active duty until Carson and all the rest of the doctors were convinced he was fine. That nothing foreign had entered his bloodstream. That the piggyback gene hadn't been triggered. It had been dormant for years. A leftover from a vicious attack by the progenitor of the species. One of the first Wraith who was not only an evolving Wraith but an Ancient endowed with a double ATA gene. Like his sons were. All the doctors had assured him he was fine. He had resumed active duty. But Moira wasn't convinced. Worried about him. Insisted on more tests, more detailed analysis. More data. He had refused.

He should have listened to her.

Instead he ignored it. Ignored her concerns, brushing off her worries. Even snapping at her on occasion. He preferred to believe the doctors. He felt fine. Everyday life got back to normal. As normal as it got in the Pegasus galaxy. Leading missions with his team. Forging alliances against the Wraith. Against the Genii. Running the city under the aegis of Richard Woolsey when John was really in charge. He had almost forgotten about the scratches. Had shoved it to the back of his mind. Too busy to worry about something even the doctors couldn't find. Too busy doing his job. Raising his sons. Being with his wife. Too busy to note the tiny changes. More energy. Quicker reflexes. More acute hearing. More sensitivity to light. More sensitivity to smells. The tastes of food and drink more intoxicating. The taste of his wife when they were intimate more erotic, enticing. There was nothing to notice.

Until the scab reappeared on his arm.

"The scab's back."

Moira Sheppard looked up from her data screen at the terse comment. John was standing nearby, eyes on her. Long lean form encased in his familiar BDUs, except the black shirt was long-sleeved. His gun was holstered low on his thigh, the double straps encircling his gray pants. She switched off the computer. Stood. "Excuse me?"

"The scab. From Elia. Look." John sauntered to her. Movements almost lazy, belying his worry. He slid up his sleeve, extended his arm to show her. The ugly scab was a knot of pale, pale flesh on his otherwise healthy skin. A blot on his inner forearm.

Moira stared. "You...how?"

"I have no idea. You tell me. You're the biologist."

She grabbed a pair of latex gloves. Pulled them on with a snapping sound. Drew him to a table where a magnifying light stood. She moved his arm under it. Touched the scab carefully. He exhibited no reaction. She prodded it. "It doesn't hurt?"

"No. Not at all. I only noticed it today. I didn't want the boys to see," he explained.

"Have you shown this to Carson?" she asked, prodding it again. It was hard to the touch. Solid.

"No. I wanted to show you first, Moy. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know." She met his gaze, frowning. "How do you feel, John?"

"Fine."

She sighed. "Could you be more elaborate? Do you feel any differently?"

He smirked under her annoyance, but sobered as he considered the question. "Yeah, actually. Better. Stronger. I can hear better, see better, smell better...and I don't get tired that often. I even could...oh shit," he realized.

"You need to see Carson now!" she flared. She freed his arm, yanked off the gloves. "How long have you been feeling these things?"

"I don't know. It was subtle. Maybe a week...or two," he sheepishly admitted.

"John! Damn it, John!" She glared at him.

He shrugged. "I didn't think anything was wrong, Moira! Until I saw this. Out of the blue. Why would this reappear now?"

"I don't know! I'm not a medical doctor!" She sighed. "We need to see Carson ASAP. Let's go, flyboy!"

He smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Colonel," he agreed as she took his arm, led him out of the lab. "Where are the boys?"

"Playing with the other children. This may be nothing, John. A residual effect of the attack, or some allergic reaction to, to..." she spluttered.

"I don't think so, Moy, and neither do you."

"No," she was forced to admit. "But it doesn't make any sense, John. Unless the piggyback gene has been activated and is presenting like the retro-virus that infected you years ago."

"Don't remind me. I have no wish to star in a remake of The Fly," he jested.

She ignored his attempt at lightening the mood. "But it shouldn't be affecting you like that! It's an entirely different genome. Elia was pure Wraith, even more than Wraith when she infected you, but the progenitor was entirely different. More human and proto-Wraith and something else besides...we still haven't figured out half of the genetic data we were able to acquire and the–"

"Do you know how sexy you are in that white coat and when you talk all sciencey?"

"John!" she scolded. Moira's mind was working furiously. "It's different enough so it shouldn't have the same affects. We will need to examine the DNA again, run a cross comparison to your own and to Elia's and to a normal Wraith's. There should be significant differences in the–"

John caught her suddenly. Shoved her gently against the wall and kissed her. Drew back, green eyes glittering. "I want you in nothing but this fucking lab coat. Bent over the fucking table. That fucking pert little ass for the taking. Now!"

She touched his chest. "John...John...okay, but let's see Carson first, all right?" she reasoned.

His grip gentled. He blinked. "Okay. I...shit." He freed her, shook his head. "Enzyme?"

"Probably...or just you being you, sweetie. Let's go." She took his arm again. Led him down the hallway. Ignoring the shiver of uncertainty that chilled her.

"Sorry, Moy. I do want that, though. It's one of my fantasies. Taking you like that, baby. The scientist and the soldier," he reminded.

"All right, sweetie. After this," she soothed, to keep him calm. Compliant.

"Wow...you must be worried if you are agreeing to kinky sex that quickly," he jested. But his own worry surfaced, fueled by hers.

Carson Beckett removed his latex gloves. "All I can say is we were lucky. We caught it in time."

Moira was silent. Sitting in the infirmary. Waiting. Tense. Nervous. Keeping Seamus on her lap as the little boy snuggled against her. Johnny was in school, but Seamus was still too young to attend. Moira stared across the room. John was prone on a bed. Carson stood near him, adjusting an IV. John appeared irritated, impatient. He glanced over to see his wife and his son.

"Are you sure?" she finally asked. She stood. Setting the little boy onto his feet.

"Yes. Almost done now, colonel." Carson removed the IV. Stepped round to a console and began to interpret the data as it filled the screen. "A brief flare-up. No doubt the residual affects of the infection somehow triggered an adverse reaction, but we've contained it."

John sat, stood. Flexed his arm, scowling. "That's what Moira said...sort of..." He picked at the bandage over the scab.

"Daddy! Daddy, daddy!" Seamus cried, toddling towards him.

John smiled. Knelt and caught the little boy. Hoisted him up into his arms as he stood. "Hey, buddy. I'm fine. See? All better now." He kissed the teary-eyed boy who clung to him. Dark hair and features matching his own.

"Daddy! Daddy hurt. Daddy got hurt!" he pouted.

"No, sport. I'm fine. Easy now. Nothing can hurt your daddy. Nothing." He watched Moira as she approached. Her gaze raking over him, every inch him, but not in a sexual way, which he would have welcomed, but in a scientific way.

"John." She touched his arm. The bandage. Serious concern on her face.

"It's fine, Moy, you heard Carson. Treatment worked. Right, doc?"

"Just checking now, John, but yes. That scab will fade in a few days."

Moira moved past him to the doctor. "Carson?"

"It is working," he insisted, glancing at her. "Just as I suspected. The stem cells of the Iratus queen bug are attacking the virus genome."

"But it's not the same, is it?" she asked, voice lowering.

"No," Carson had to admit quietly. "The DNA is different. The enzyme is different. This strand was pure Wraith, plus the retro-virus. But now...this is something else, from the progenitor. In many ways it is the same, but it's not. Still...we will keep monitoring."

"But John doesn't have a double ATA. He, he won't turn into a, a Wraith, will he?" she whispered.

"No. At least not a Wraith as we know them. As the others did. Remember that the doubles were tampered with genetically, in ways that we haven't quite deciphered yet. Resulting in their evolution to the Wraith species. Nothing like that will happen to John."

"Then what will happen?"

"Nothing. As I've said, the treatment is working."

"And if it doesn't? If he has a relapse? What will happen?" she persisted.

Carson met her gaze at last. Held it. "I...I don't know."

"Mommy, mommy!"

Moira whirled, hearing her son. But the child was smiling, still clinging to his father. "Seamus?" She met John's cool gaze. He had heard every word, no matter how low their voices had been. No matter he was a few feet away from them. She recognized the glower on his handsome face.

"Daddy all better!"

"Yes, honey, he is." She turned back to Carson. "Prognosis?"

"We continue with the treatment, just to be sure. See where it leads, if anywhere. I'll take blood samples every four hours."

"Rapid generation?"

"Possibly, but contained."

"Stop it! I hate that damn shorthand," John snarled. Approached, son in his arms. "Well? Can I go now, doc?"

"You can go, John. Be back here in three hours."

"Let's go, John." Moira took Seamus from him. "It's all right, honey. Daddy has to get back to work, as I do. You should be in your playgroup now with Johnny. See? Everything's fine now, Seamus. Back to normal." She kissed him, but her gaze lingered on John.

On his arm.

On the scab until he yanked down his sleeve, hiding it.