Stargate Atlantis: S7—The Last Story1

Gluttony.

Colonel John Sheppard was ravenous. He was devouring food like there was no tomorrow. His stomach growled and he couldn't shovel in the food fast enough. Burgers and fries, popcorn and chocolate: his hunger was only exceeded by his thirst. He gulped down beer and water and was still unquenched.

Still he hungered and he violently shoved the food aside. He raised his hand and to his horror saw that there was a feeding protrusion on his palm. That would explain his insatiable hunger. He looked round, frantic to find a meal, a victim, to ease this unbearable hunger and thirst.

He didn't know where he was and quite frankly he didn't care until the light flooded. He looked up to see a wave of light heading for him. It was too bright, too bright and he tried to shield his eyes. His head was pounding and he could make out voices now. They were muffled but all were calling his name, or talking about him.

He wondered if he was now a Wraith or human or something in between.

It was a muddy confusion of noise and he didn't know if was awake or asleep. He grunted, trying to concentrate, to hone in one voice among the many.

Moira.

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"I didn't know. I swear I didn't know and there was nothing else I could do! It was the only way to rescue John and give them the time to get away and the—"

"All right, love, all right," Doctor Carson Beckett soothed, placing a hand on the emotional biologist's shoulder.

"Moy?" John roused, hearing the tearful voice of his wife. He opened his eyes, trying to focus past the odd dreams and the blankness of memory. He flexed his hand and to his relief the palm was normal.

"John? John, thank God! How do you feel?" Doctor Moira Sheppard scooted even closer and took his hand into hers. She leaned close and brushed her lips across his. She searched his face for any sign of pain or confusion.

John smiled as she came into focus. "I…hungry."

"That's a good sign, colonel," Carson said with a smile.

John struggled to sit. "Where?"

"Atlantis. Easy, John, here." Carson adjusted the bed for him. John looked round and saw his friends all gathered. The worry on their faces was being replaced by relief, but there was something else there as well and he couldn't quite place it.

Pain was a barrage of aches and tingles along his body. He blinked against the harsh lights of the infirmary.

"How?"

"Rodney. He managed to get control of the Jumper and the shields, and contacted the Tria to protect us," Moira explained. "We wouldn't have made it otherwise."

"Thanks, Rodney," John said.

"We were lucky, damn lucky…but yes, it was mostly down to me," the physicist stated. A brief round of humorous smiles filled the room. Many things had changed but the man's hubris was not one of them.

"The Hive?" John asked.

"Destroyed, along with the queen and all aboard," Richard Woolsey stated.

"Except for a few Darts and those escape pods," Doctor Rodney McKay muttered.

"How long?" John asked.

"You've been out for two days, John," Moira softly explained. He met her gaze. Her brown eyes were full of sorrow. One eye contained a lilac circle round the pupil and he relaxed, recognizing the deformity that identified her as the real Moira and not some fantasy imposter.

"Wow. I…um…wow." He eyed his friends again. "Is everyone okay?" His gaze scanned the crowd to note that one was missing. "Where's Ronon?"

"You don't remember?" Rodney asked.

There was an awkward silence. No one would meet his gaze. John felt a sinking feeling in his gut and he knew, he just knew although he couldn't remember.

"He…he didn't make it. I'm so sorry, John," Moira said, lowering her gaze to their entwined fingers. She gently squeezed his hand.

"He died a hero. He died saving his friends and killing the Wraith," Teyla Emmagan said. A veil of tears clouded her eyes suddenly. "He shall be honored for his sacrifice."

"As will those scientists that were lost as well," Carson agreed.

"You really don't remember?" Rodney asked, shaking his head.

"I…" The memory slammed into John like a fist. The rocking Jumper, the de-stabilizing environment; the breach in the hull from the bomb; Ronon fighting to the last, buying them precious time and killing Wraith with joyful abandon.

The closing of the hatch.

John shut his eyes, unwilling to remember that.

He was unwilling to remember that last look, the slight nod of understanding and acknowledgment and respect.

"All right, now, the man needs his rest. His metabolism is still out of whack. Let him rest," Carson ordered, shooing away the well-wishers. He could see the strain John was under and he sympathized. The emotional turmoil would only complicate the physical duress.

John's fingers tightened over Moira's. "I'm not going anywhere, John. Rest easy," she assured. His hold gentled. Moira kept her gaze on her husband. He was pale. Bruises and scratches ran along his face and body. There was weariness in his green eyes, the weariness of a man who had seen too much, lost too much and had to find a way to continue on from the brink.

John listened for the last of the footsteps to fade away. He opened his eyes and looked at his wife. Moira appeared tired and ill and ease. There was a bandage on her arm and John remembered how a Wraith stunner had grazed her. She did not seem to be in pain, however. Mostly she was worried about him. He looked past her. "Carson! I want to go my room to rest. Do I really need to stay here?"

"Yes, colonel you do." The doctor's tone was firm.

"No. I'm fine now." John moved as if to leave the bed.

"John! You need to rest!" Moira urged. He met her gaze. She saw the guilt, the anguish in his green eyes. She saw the naked need of his to be alone, to seek refuge away from everyone else. She turned to the doctor. "I can look after him. Carson, if there's no danger please release him to my care. I'll make sure he rests and gets something to eat. Besides, he looks like a Wildman and really needs to clean up." She glanced at John.

He smiled. His hair was wildly unkempt, matching his beard and mustache. "Yeah…I'm a bit ripe, aren't I?"

"Just a little," she sniffed, wrinkling her nose.

John chuckled. "In that case I better get to a shower ASAP. Carson?"

"Och,fine. I can't resist the pair of you! Just take it easy, John, and get some sleep. Eat some soup or have a sandwich, and no beer! Moira, you know what to look for."

"Yes, Carson. Thank you."

John moved to his feet. He swayed a little. Moira helped him into a robe and then slid her arm around him. He leaned on her as they made their way out of the infirmary. It felt odd to be back in Atlantis after everything. John was concentrating on his steps, on the feel of Moira at his side. Everything else he buried and blocked. Only the next step mattered. Only reaching his room and the privacy it afforded.

He couldn't escape the wave of grief and anger but he could escape the scrutiny.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Moira asked. She was carefully guiding her husband step by step, mindful that he was sore and weary.

"Yeah, I'm sure. What was that about before?"

"Before what?"

"Before I woke up I heard Carson and you talking. You sounded upset, Moy."

"I was just worried about you, sweetie, that's all." A blush suffused her face and Moira stared ahead of them, concentrating on making it to John's quarters.

John wasn't convinced, but he didn't push it. Instead he guided Moira to his room. They entered. Moira freed him and stared.

"You stole my bed."

John laughed at her matter of fact tone. "I requisitioned your bed, or rather our bed, now, baby. I wasn't about to give up the most comfortable bed in Atlantis."

"What do you want to do first, John? Do you want to eat and then shower?"

"Yeah. I guess." He moved to the bed and sat. He sighed. "Fuck I am so tired, Moira."

Moira sat close and kissed him. He appeared so dejected it broke her heart. "You need to rest, John. Why don't you just lay back and take a nap. I'll go get something for you to eat. A turkey sandwich?"

He smirked. "Hilarious, Moira. Yeah, that'd be fine. Then I want to shower. Um, you'll be okay out there, right? I mean, I know it's going to be difficult and awkward and—"

Moira cut off his concern with a kiss. She moved to her feet. "Don't you worry, sweetie. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is you. I'll get your food and then you can shower and then sleep, all right? And John...you can tell me anything, you know. Anything you need to say." Her brown eyes were serious, warm. "Whatever you need, John."

John nodded. He watched her leave the room. He sighed and shut his eyes, waiting.