Vegas in Red: Guess Things Happen That Way
Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements.
The whir of the rotor blades spun the air, engulfing the already hot day in an even hotter rush. The helicopter circled, circled, like a bee buzzing, deciding upon which flower to land. The vehicle was a dark blot against the brownish sky, a black machine generating more noise and more power than anything beneath it for miles.
A jangle of voices roused Moira O'Meara from her work. She stopped, setting down a prehistoric skull. She stepped out of the tent. Shielded her eyes as the glare of the sun was striking the helicopter and making it appear as if it was glowing. People were scrambling out of the way, pointing and shouting, trying to pin down tent flaps and cover excavated areas with large tarps.
"Who is it?" asked an African-American man, moving to stand beside her.
"Doctor Peterson, at last! You can do the honors and greet him while I get the specimens ready!"
"Thanks a lot!" the man moaned. They exchanged a smile.
Moira ducked back inside the tent, as the after wash of the blades struck her. The helicopter had finally found a safe place to land. She was both relieved and annoyed that the director of the excavation had decided to finally check on their progress. She arranged what few fossils they had uncovered on a table, as the sandstorms had been delaying work for days now. Looked to end the entire expedition before it had even begun properly. The waste of time and manpower and resources would not look good to the museum committee back home.
Moira carefully stabilized the table with a few big rocks. The more delicate bones were packed in Styrofoam and plastic, the hardier ones were encircled with plaster and bubble wrap. She had immersed herself in the work, in the science, but her mind was still focused on John. Try as she might she couldn't stop thinking about him, worrying about him. She couldn't stop missing him.
She felt the rush of the wind, of the heat as the tent flaps opened. "Doctor Peterson," she began without preamble, arranging a skull on the table, "we made some intriguing discoveries before the sandstorms hit and delayed our progress." She turned. "I think you find the entelodont especially interesting as it is…" Moira froze. Voice gone.
The last person she had expected to see was John Sheppard. A detective from Vegas. Yet there he was, standing at the tent flaps. Appearing dashing in an olive green flight suit and jacket, aviator shades reflecting her astonished expression back to her. A trace of stubble lined his handsome face as he smiled. Removed the shades to reveal his incredibly green eyes. "John…" she finally said. Nothing else came. Her mind was a complete blank.
John Sheppard was taking in her appearance. She was dirty, dusty. A khaki shirt was unbuttoned over a tan tank top. Khaki pants hugged her hips. Boots were covered in sand. Her long hair was trapped in a messy ponytail. There was a look of utter shock on her face. There was a fading bruise under one brown eye, a purplish smear that made him wonder, made a surge of concern fill him. "Speechless? Wow…this must be first, O'Meara! I'll have to write this down."
"I...I…you, you…John? John!" Abruptly she rushed to him, and John braced himself, not certain if she was going to hit him or hug him. She did the latter, almost knocking him over as she flung herself into his arms.
He smiled, returned the hug. Losing himself for a moment in the remembered feel of her body pressed to his. The scents of vanilla and flowers clinging to her even out here, in the middle of nowhere. "Moira," he said quietly, about to say more, about to catch her mouth with his when she pulled back from him.
"John? How?"
"Helicopter. I'm a pilot, you know."
"Why?"
"Does it fucking matter, baby?" he retorted, pulling her to him again but she resisted.
"Yes."
He ignored her. Pulled her to him and kissed her. Kept kissing her, reacquainting himself with the feel of her mouth, the taste of her lips. The feel of her body as he guided her, guided her backwards, pressing forwards onto her, into her. Each kiss was eagerly returned until Moira yelped as he grabbed her rear and squeezed tightly. He lifted her onto the table. The fossils clattered, clattered as the table shook.
"John!" She pushed free, catching her breath. "You came all this way for sex?"
He laughed. "No! Well, now that you mention it, Moria, yeah."
"John! You can't just—"
"I need you. I need help on a case. You know what kind."
"You could have emailed me or used the sat-link to—"
"Tried. Everything's down because of the storms. I don't have any more time to waste."
"There are plenty of biologists you could have—"
"No. They're not you, Moira. I can't bring anyone else into the fold."
She stared. Shoved him backwards to get off the table. Flustered. Upset. He sounded so detached, so impersonal, but his kisses had been anything but. "So like a good shepherd you came here to retrieve your lost lamb?"
"Yes. That's it exactly, Moira. Now get that pert little ass in gear and let's go!" He headed for the tent flaps, assuming she would follow.
Moira glared at him. "What did you need?"
He stopped. Returned to her. "I just told you, I—"
"No. You can't just march in here and take me out of my job like so much baggage! I'm not on your team, remember? Tell me what you need and then you can go. Well?" She crossed her arms under her breasts, waiting. Distancing herself from him, from the swell of emotion.
John scowled. Inadvertently making himself more irresistible, even sexier. "Fine. I need to know several things. Firstly, they tell me that the prisoner Wraith is in hibernation and can't be woken up without killing him. I need to know if this is true or not. Secondly, I need to know how to track a possibly insane Wraith that is currently killing people in Vegas. I need to know how it thinks, what it wants, and I can cover the human aspect but I need you to cover the bug one, that hive mind thing, you know? Oh, and thirdly if Todd, that's the prisoner they have, can possibly communicate with the insane one while hibernating? Well?"
Moira considered as he stood, waiting. Stance impatient, fidgeting as he stared at her. "Okay, detective. Normally you couldn't wake up a hibernating animal without serious consequences, but since half of this animal is human you should be able to do so. The hibernation is self-induced?"
"Yes."
"Then you need to have him awaken himself. That would be the safest course."
"And how the hell would I do that?"
"Give him what he wants most. Dangle what he wants right in front of him and I guarantee you he will awaken on his own and try to take it. And yes, given what very little I know about these creatures he could very possibly be communicating with others of his kind, even while in a hibernation cycle."
"And the insane one?"
"I can't help you track it, John, but from a bug perspective being violently separated from the Hive mind will force it to try to act on its own. Unless it is being given direction from the imprisoned one. It will try to get to that one, to another of its own kind, but if it suffering from extensive injuries or mental unbalance its course might be erratic and highly unpredictable. You will need to lure it out somewhere if you can figure out where it is heading. If it can sense another of its kind it may be able to sense its own technology too. Use bait."
John nodded. "Thank you, doctor. Fuck I need you back with the team. But you made your feelings every clear on that, didn't you? Thanks, Moira."
Moira stared as he left. Simply walked out of the tent. As if he just driven down the road to see her, get her advice, and then was gone.
Stunned she could only stare after him.
