Adaptive Radiation
Blue.
Moira O'Meara stared at the dark blue color encompassing her field of vision. Realized with a start it was John Sheppard's t-shirt. She was nestled up against his back as he slept. Pressed close to the lean, muscled contours of his body. She drew back a little, a little to see the line of his body as he rested on his side turned away from her. The shirt had ridden up to give her a teasing view of his lower back. The blue sweat pants had slid down some to give her a tantalizing view of his rear. She smirked, seeing he lacked boxers. Smirked at the sheer novelty of waking up fully clothed next to him.
"John?" She nudged him. Nudged his shoulder again. He muttered, shifted. Did not awaken.
She glanced to the sunlight slowly filling the room. Pale yellow rays crossing the floor, approaching the bed as if hesitant to disturb them. She sighed. Slid out of the bed and found her shoes. Quietly left before he could notice.
Quickly she strode to her room. Trying to ignore the marines who were walking the halls. Trying to ignore the curious stares, the speculative glances. She reached her room and paused, staring round, relaxing. But tension still fluttered as she wondered about the debrief.
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John stirred, rolled. Reached. Empty blankets met his hand. He opened his eyes, squinted at the bright sunshine infiltrating his room. He yawned, sat. "Moira?" He frowned. Annoyed at the novelty of having her in his bed and not having sex of any kind. Of having her not even close to being naked. He sighed, swore, glanced at the clock. Realized the debrief would be starting soon. He scrambled out of the bed and into the shower.
In the cafeteria he filled his tray, ravenous. Glanced over to see Moira sitting with Carson Beckett. Their quiet conversation. Her expression solemn. Curious he neared with quick strides. Joined them and sat next to her, scooting her against the wall. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, John. Good morning," Carson smoothly answered. Smiled. "I'm glad to see that both of you are recovered now. Being weak from trauma and lack of nourishment really did a number on the pair of you." He looked at Moira who was sipping her juice, gaze on the empty space across from her.
"You called me an idiot, I remember that," John noted. Began to eat.
"Aye, that I did, and Moira too."
"Moira?" He glanced at her.
She shrugged. Picked at the vestiges of pancake on her plate. Fork dripping with syrup.
"Aye." Carson looked from one to the other. "How does your wrist feel, John?"
John glanced at it. The heavy white bandage encircling it. "Fine. Just a little sore sometimes."
"Be careful with it. Now...what's wrong?"
"Huh? I just asked you that?" John retorted. Frowned.
"Nothing," Moira answered, finally speaking at last. "It's been traumatic, like you said, Carson. That's all. Actually I wanted to thank you. We, we weren't thinking clearly. Your inestimable advice and counsel cleared our heads, I think. Oh! You were going to start charging for these therapy sessions, weren't you?" she asked to lighten the mood. Could feel John's eyes on her, assessing.
"Don't remind him, Moira," John chastised. They laughed quietly.
"Consider this a freebie, after what you've both been through. And for calling both of you idiots. After this, though, I will start charging a fee. Hmm...a pint of Guinness and a fine haggis will be acceptable."
"Ugh!" Moira exclaimed, setting down her fork. "Carson! Really?"
"What's haggis?" asked John round a mouthful of food.
She glanced at him. "You don't want to know. Especially when you are eating. Trust me."
Carson laughed. "A Scottish delicacy. Really, Moira, I expected better." He stood. "The debrief is in ten minutes. Eat quick."
"I don't think I can now," she quipped, making a face.
"That bad?" John asked.
"Yes." She finished her juice, glanced at him. He was watching her as she ate. Gaze roving over her lilac shirt and brown pants. Over the ubiquitous ponytail trapping her hair. "What?"
He shrugged. Kept silent, eyes on his meal now. As her gaze wandered over his black t-shirt, blue pants. The motions of his jaw as he chewed. The motion of his tongue as he licked his lips. His long swallows as he drank his coffee, then some water. He glanced at her again. "What?" he echoed. They smiled briefly. "Ah."
"Ah? And what is that supposed to mean, colonel?" she asked, tilting her head to tease, to flirt.
He smiled. Set down the glass of water. "You know what it means. I agree."
"Agree? Agree to what? Agree with what? I thought you didn't know what haggis is."
"Huh? No, not the haggis. Last night."
"We didn't have haggis last night."
"Hilarious, Moira. Very cute. I meant the lack of sex. I found it disturbing too. Almost criminal. The quiet was almost eerie."
"Shut up, John!" She elbowed him as he laughed. She stood. "The meeting."
"What? Isn't that bothering you too? Because, baby, the way you are looking at me I can tell right away that you want–"
"To go to the meeting, flyboy, so finish your breakfast and don't be late!" She sighed at his grin.
"Shut up, John."
"I didn't say anything, Moira." He watched her leave. "Hey, could you walk a little faster?" he called. She ignored him. He smirked, quickly finished his meal.
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The conference room was full. Moira paused on the threshold, suddenly uncomfortable. The only memories of the failsafe, of the planet she could recall were sexual ones. The double moonlight pouring upon them in silver splendor. She felt a blush rising. Felt a hand on her lower back suddenly and nearly whirled.
"In," John urged, ushering her across the threshold. Amused at her uncertainty.
Moira stared round. Elizabeth Weir was eying a screen but looked up at their approach. Rodney McKay was munching on a doughnut. Sprinkles littered the desk but he seemed oblivious. Evan Lorne was not and with an annoyed expression brushed the multi-colored decorations back towards the scientist. She took a seat far down the table, close to the door. Swallowed nervously.
John ignored the empty chair near the head of the table where he usually sat. He took the empty seat next to Moira's. Lounged back, hands on his lap.
"All right," Elizabeth began. "This all started with the discovery of the gunnery station."
"Yes, ma'am," Evan agreed. "We still don't know why or how it was activated. When we found it the thing was inert. Initially. As if sensing the Jumper though it came to life and fired upon the ship. We were able to finally shut it down but it was difficult."
"Conclusions?" Elizabeth asked.
"The weapon was part of an automated defense system," John succinctly explained. "Originally there were four separate stations spread along the mainland at strategic points. Not only to cover the city but the whole planet from aerial attack. We traced the source of the power base to the cave in grid eight."
"Rodney?"
"The cave wasn't the central hub," Rodney continued, setting down the last of his doughnut, "but the power source for that particular gun only. There was an automated defense in the cave...a sort of, of..." he snapped his fingers. "What did you call it, Moira?"
"A...a Probot 'droid," she said softly, uncomfortable. Ignored the smiles.
"Yes...some limited AI defense, a machine with a high impact energy beam. Once past that we reached the main operating console, the hub, if you will. The whole system was based on echolocation, sonic pulses. Like the bats, right, Moira?"
"Yes, Rodney," she agreed, wondering why he kept trying to include her.
"Yes. We discovered the auditory disruption wave at the same time," he continued. "The power from the gun was looping back to the console's systems, creating a dangerous situation."
"Which you couldn't control," John reminded, gaining a scowl from the scientist. "Which I couldn't control either," he admitted. "But we did manage to triangulate the three remaining gunnery positions to locate the approximate location of the ZPM."
"We searched grid eight. Radek's scans produced nothing," Evan informed.
"Nothing? It's true we didn't pinpoint the exact location but we got a pretty good idea of where it could be found," John argued.
"Nothing, sir," Evan repeated. "No energy readings. No unusual geological formations. No caves."
"Moira," Rodney eyed her, "you can look for any biological anomalies! Like you noted at the cave. Maybe that will lead us there...like the bats. And with my superior scans we will be certain to locate the ZPM."
"I...I doubt it would..." she began, trying not to squirm in her chair. Glanced at the doorway as if to escape.
"That's a good idea, Rodney. We'll look into it later," John smoothly rode over her hesitation. "I still can't believe the ZPM wasn't there. It was powering the system, obviously."
"How could a biological anomaly lead you to a–" Evan asked, puzzled.
"The bats! The echolocation–" Rodney began to explain.
"What happened when the power overloaded the systems?" Elizabeth interjected.
John glanced at Moira. She was staring at her hands. "I tried to control it, contain it but the AI was too strong. The next thing I knew the whole console erupted. Blew apart." He shoved aside Moira's sacrifice to save him. Her seemingly dying under him. The pain slicing into his back. "We got hit. We woke up in this weird...cell, I guess. It was a virtual reality thing while the failsafe healed us."
"I saw them both bloody, dead," Rodney added. Voice quiet. "Then a light, a glow...then they were gone. Moira ran in front of John to save him when the machine blew apart and collapsed."
"Anyway," John tersely continued as all eyes fell upon Moira, "this failsafe was installed in case the ATA gene carriers tampered with the automated defenses. We were transported to another planet to be healed. A safe haven. There was only one program left running, a holographic image of an Ancient who had ascended. As I said before it took some convincing to get us back here. She didn't believe the city was safe. Alive again."
"And it made you believe you had returned the first time?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yes. Probably because it didn't think it could return us in reality. And we didn't want to ascend. So it pulled the simulation from our minds. Well, from my mind, mostly. Luckily Moira was suspicious and saw through it to return us back to our bodies." He glossed over the violent cutting of her arm, the blood. Yet another death that wasn't. "And we were finally able to convince it to let us use the Stargate."
"Why would the AI be so virulent towards the ATA carriers? That doesn't make sense," Evan wondered. Shaking his head.
"It bothers me too," Rodney agreed. "I can't figure it out. Unless it was to prevent any traitors from tampering with the device. They built a failsafe just in case someone was strong enough to control it. To tamper with it."
"Back up. Moira, how did you know the first reality wasn't real?"
Moira shrugged, met Elizabeth's questioning gaze. "It...it just felt...off. Somehow. And there was a glitch in the programming. Carson talked about the programming as a she...before we had told him or anyone."
"And you broke out by cutting your arm?"
"By slitting my wrist," she clarified. Briefly touched her unmarked skin as phantom pain echoed. "Only a violent, jarring act would shock us out of the illusion."
"She's right," Rodney concurred. "A virtual program that strong would require an equally strong way to break the simulation."
"Like how they say if you dream you die it will shock you out of a nightmare, because you wouldn't die in reality," Evan ventured.
"And why were you on the mainland when John and Rodney were locating the source of the gun's power?"
"I..." Moira faltered. "I brought them–"
"Tools," John supplied. "Some tools we needed," he smoothly interjected. "I asked her to bring us an additional scanner, since she was coming to the mainland anyway to continue her own studies into the biology of the region." He glanced at Rodney, tilted his head.
"And I asked her to bring some cookies because I was hungry," the scientist added. "You know how my blood sugar level can drop if I don't have enough of–"
"Yes. Continue studying the data you've recovered. I want teams to investigate each remaining outpost on the mainland so this doesn't happen again. We'll renew our search in grid eight for the main control and power source." At Elizabeth's tone all rose, made to leave. "John, a moment, please."
John exchanged a glance with Moira. She briefly, so briefly touched his shoulder as he retook his seat. A furtive caress. John watched his friends depart. Their footsteps echoing down the stairs. He lounged back in his chair. "If you ask me this ATA gene is more trouble than its worth. Sure it can power up systems and all that, but half of the time it becomes a detriment. What were the Ancients thinking anyway? I mean by this failsafe system. This technology which was built by them but resistant to them actually using it?"
"I don't know, John. They must have had a good reason. From what I've heard about those virtual realities...that explains your wrist?" Her gaze was on the bandage.
"My..." He glanced at it. "Yeah. We had to be sure. Especially since a lot of the same exact words were spoken, like the first time. That was just...weird."
"You cut your own wrist, John! You can't reason that away!"
"I had to, Elizabeth," he answered. Sat straighter in the chair. "I wasn't going to let Moira cut herself again. She already did it once and I...I did not want to see that again." He glanced uneasily across the room. "Besides, I was pretty sure this was real. The real Atlantis. And I know how to cut a wrist without causing permanent damage or–"
"Death? You could have bled to death, John!" she fumed, glaring. "You were suffering from lack of food! Dehydration! Recovering from a serious injury that Rodney swears killed you! I can't have my military commander needlessly risking his life to–"
"That's hilarious," John acerbically commented. "What do I do every day? Every week? Every mission?"
"In the line of duty, yes, not in a reckless manner just to prove a point to a–"
"It wasn't reckless. I told you, I knew what I was doing," he argued. Glanced out of the office. Saw Moira below, hovering about, staring up. He made a shooing motion with his hand. Turned back to meet Elizabeth's frosty glare. "I did it for myself as much as for her. We had to be sure."
Elizabeth stood. Palms on the table as if to calm herself. She took a deep breath, released it. "That's the point, John. It was a judgment call. I'm sorry, but I can't afford to have you taking unnecessary risks like that! No. It was stupid. Senseless. At the very least we could have convinced Moira without you resorting to violence."
John stared. Stood. Gaze narrowing. "Are you saying that I should have let her do it. Again?" he asked, voice low. Words coming slowly. Disbelief.
"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "I'm sorry, John, but you know as well as I do that sometimes we have to make decisions based on purely rational, logical factors. Not emotional ones."
"You...you don't understand," John replied, angered and thrown by her words. Her argument. Uncomfortable with her obvious observations. "The first time...the first time here when we thought we were here...I thought we were back. If not for Moira we'd still be there, trapped on that planet. Trapped in our minds in that unreal Atlantis! I wasn't going to let her slice her own wrist again to prove if this time it was real!"
"Exactly my point, John! You felt you had to do it yourself! So you recklessly risked your life when you didn't even need to do so! Anyone else you would have allowed us to convince them, to use reason, time, therapy, whatever it took. But not since it was Moira. You weren't thinking straight and carelessly endangered your own–"
"It wasn't carelessly!" he argued. "I knew exactly what I was doing, unlike her! Don't blame Moira for any of this! There's no harm done, Elizabeth. None."
"Oh, I think there is, John. I need to be able to rely on you to make these kinds of judgment calls in the field, or on a mission. I'm sorry but you have to realize how things work out here. How, and I hate to say this, but how some personnel are more necessary to this city than others. You know it," she insisted to his glower, "and I know it. If we lose some key personnel the city will in all likelihood fall. It's ugly but it's the truth."
"Are you saying that some lives are more important than others?" he asked.
"No. Not more important. But more essential to the running of this city. To our very livelihoods. Then yes. You know it, too, John. I know you do. Most of the time. This...incident, however, makes me wonder if you truly realize the necessity for those kinds of decisions."
John was silent. Realized the truth of her words but was fuming anyway. His body tense. Hands tempted to curl into fists but he kept them open at his sides. "If you're done I have work to do."
She nodded. "I'm done. Just think about what I've said, John. You know it's true."
"Oh, don't worry," he assured, voice low, angry, "I'll think all about it," he assured as he stiffly walked out of the room.
