The Teratogenic Effect
Cream.
The gravy was thick. Globs splattering the plate as the gooey liquid covered the chicken-fried steak. The food was savagely stabbed with a fork. Cut with a knife. A smaller piece was impaled by the fork. Lifted up from the plate. The off-white gravy spilled a little as it smothered the piece of meat. The aroma tickled John Sheppard's nose as he moved the fork towards his waiting mouth.
His attention was solely on the food instead of on his dining companion. Rodney McKay was explaining his latest theory of quantum mechanics and interstellar travel, his words flowing one after the other as his own food was temporarily neglected. The beef has just touched John's open lips. The tip of his tongue has just caught a taste of the thick gravy when the cries of a fussy baby reached his ears. He sighed. Lowered his fork and looked across the cafeteria.
A woman was bearing down on him, anger on her face, in her stride as she pushed the stroller in front of her. His wife. Long brown hair trapped in a ponytail. Her green and brown BDUs snug on her curvy form. His infant son was upset, whining. Little hands balled into fists, little face screwed in a petulant expression. "John!" Moira Sheppard called. Her sharp tone almost made Rodney jump as he halted in mid-sentence.
"Moira? What's wrong with–" John began amiably.
"Here!" She parked the stroller next to him.
"Gaga! Gaga goo!" the baby cried, reaching and pouting. Big blue eyes full of tears.
John leaned over to lift the baby to his arms. "What's wrong, junior?"
"He wants you, John! He's been fussing for over an hour now! I can't get any work done! We are splicing the chromosomes and running a comparison of the genetic composition of each slightly different species and I can't do that with a baby wailing in my ear! Nothing pleases him! He's fed, he's dry, he's clean but he keeps whining on about you, so here! Where the hell have you been all morning?" she fumed.
John blinked at her diatribe, said mildly, "we just got back from a test run of the Jumper's new–"
"He would have loved that, John! It would have made him happy!" she fumed, hands on her hips now as she regaled her husband. Gaze wandering over his black t-shirt, blue pants, double straps of his holster snug on his thigh. Simple attire, yet extremely attractive on the form they encompassed.
"Easy, Moira," John soothed, gently bouncing the baby in his arms. "Have a seat and grab a–"
"I don't have time! Watch your son for an hour, colonel! Can you at least manage that?" she snapped. Rodney stared at her. The baby was happy, gurgling in his father's arms.
"Okay, sweetheart," John agreed.
Moira sighed. Brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face that had somehow escaped her ponytail. "Sorry, John. It's just been one of those days. If you need me or he needs me I'll be in bio." She patted the diaper bag on the stroller. "Everything he needs is in here. Thank you, John." She moved away. Returned. Kissed the baby. Kissed John, her lips brushing softly along his. "You two behave yourselves." She glanced at Rodney who was still staring. "Hi Rodney."
"Uh, hi?" the scientist responded cautiously.
John watched her leave. Her purposeful stride making her ponytail swing back and forth in time to her hips. He gently bounced his son on his lap, looked at his friend who was staring after Moira as well.
"Wow," Rodney commented.
"Yeah, I know. When she walks fast like that my heart skips a beat," John noted.
"Not that! Although..." Rodney smirked at John's suddenly narrowed gaze. "What? You said it, not me. Geez, I guess the wrath of Sheppard has been inherited!"
"Apparently." John set his son back into the stroller. "All right, buddy, let me eat my lunch first, okay? Here." He gave the baby a toy. Turned to finally lift the fork and insert the food into his mouth at last. To find the food was cold. He ate anyway. The baby chortled, watching his father. Little hands clasping the stroller's padding.
Rodney shook his head, asked round a mouthful, "what do you think set her off like that? The kid?" Rodney eyed the baby. The infant was clad in a little blue shirt, blue jeans. Dark disordered hair the mirror image of his father. The baby smiled at him, drooling a little.
John shrugged. "Could be anything." He glanced at his son. Grabbed a napkin and wiped the baby's face. The baby grinned at him. Babbled as he looked at Rodney, suddenly began to prattle non-stop. "He likes you today."
"Today? He likes me every day!" Rodney retorted. Glanced at the baby. "Of course he likes me. He senses I'm a scientist. We'll make him into one yet."
"No. He's going to be fighter pilot. Aren't you, Johnny? Zoom zoom!" John tickled the baby's tummy. The baby laughed, catching his father's fingers.
"We don't need another one of those, John. But we always need more scientists. Especially with his double whammy of that gene. Can you imagine what he could–"
"Yes, I could, only too well! That's why it's hands off Ancient tech for now."
Rodney considered. "You know, John, I'm testing the back-up systems, running simulations and I could use a ZPM charger to–"
"I said no, Rodney. My son is not the Energizer bunny!" John finished, stood. "Let's go, junior. We've got work to do." He wheeled the baby along the cafeteria, eliciting smiles and sighs. He paused at a table. The baby chortled, waving his little hands in the air. Prattling once more.
Carson Beckett smiled. "Ah, how is wee Sheppard today, my lad? About time for a check-up, isn't it?" The baby stared, momentarily enchanted by the Scottish accent.
"Is it?" John asked, eying his son. "He's fine, doc," he assured.
"Even so, Moira's bringing him in next week. Just to be certain. And to spend some time with your Uncle Carson, laddie." He tickled the baby's tummy. The infant gurgled, smiling.
"Yeah, okay, doc. Next week." John wheeled the baby out of the cafeteria. Relaxing as the infant's fussy mood had dissipated. He crossed the control room. Parked the stroller at the foot of the stairs. "Here we go, captain." He lifted the baby, carried him up the steps. The baby held onto his father, staring round, prattling softly. John reached a door, knocked. Opened it. "Got a minute?"
Elizabeth Weir smiled, looking up from a pile of reports on her desk. "For you two, of course!" She indicated a chair. Self-consciously tucked back a curl of dark hair behind her ear. She folded her arms on the desk, pushing the pile of reports aside.
John smiled. The baby quieted, staring round. John sat, noting the change in his son. "Next week's mission roster. Phillips can't go, he's got a sprained ankle. I replaced him with Collins. Teyla is going to accompany them as she has had dealings with those people before. Amicable."
"Oh. All right. I'll make a note of it. So...how is Johnny?" She smiled at the infant.
"Fine. The usual, you know," he replied, gently bouncing the baby on his legs. But the infant was silent, touching his father's shirt. Little fingers clutching at the black t-shirt. He frowned, fingers clumsy as he felt his father's dog tags under the fabric. Trying to clutch at them. "He's got a check-up next week and I'd like to be there. Not that anything's wrong with him but still I want to be there. Keep an eye on him, you know. But he's in perfect health, is fine."
"Yes, he seems fine. A bit quiet, though."
"He wasn't a minute ago," John commented. Eyes on his son again. The infant met his gaze, big blue eyes oddly solemn until he smiled at his father. John smiled in return. The baby gurgled, stuck out his tongue. John did the same. The baby giggled, grinned, mouth forming an "o" shape. John mimicked him, seemingly forgetting he had an audience.
The baby chortled in delight. "Gaga, goo!" he exclaimed.
"Johnny, goo!" John echoed, chuckling. The baby laughed, as if that was the funniest thing in the world. But grew quiet suddenly, sucking on his lower lip. John looked up to see Elizabeth watching, seemingly entranced at the nearly wordless exchange between father and son. "Anyway, it's sometime next week," he stated, oddly embarrassed by having the moment witnessed.
"Do you know which day?" she asked, as if the spell had been broken. Straightening in her chair and adopting a more professional mien.
"No. I'll have to ask Moira." He stood, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'll have those reports ready by five, or six. I'm almost caught up. And I'll have the evaluations done by then too, unless junior here has other ideas."
"Okay, John. There's no rush. Take your time."
John blinked. "Are you okay? You've never said that to me before."
Elizabeth laughed. "I haven't? Well, you've never held a baby before, I guess."
"Ah. Well..." Not knowing what else to say John left. He carried the baby down the stairs to the stroller. The baby started to prattle again, all smiles, looking past his father. John followed his son's gaze to see Evan Lorne and a woman passing. They smiled at the happy infant. "Major."
"Colonel," Evan rejoined amiably. He moved to a console. The woman followed, touched it. Activating the power as it gently, hummed, responding to her.
John looked at his son. "What's this, junior?" He set his son into the stroller, wheeled him to a transporter. Wheeled him out and down a hallway. The baby quieted as people passed. John noted it, curious. "I wonder what your mother would make of your behavior."
"Gaga goo! Gaga goo!" the baby insisted, as if trying to make a point. Little arms waving in the air as he bounced in the stroller.
"Yeah, whatever, buddy. Dada. Dada, okay? Get it right, son."
The baby began to prattle again as he was wheeled into the bio lab. Waved his little arms in the air. "Mama! Mama goo mama!" he called.
Moira turned from her data screen, smiled as John wheeled the baby to her. "Wow, John! You certainly altered his mood. How are you, darling?"
"Mama goo!"
"It wasn't me, well not entirely. Moira...I..." he glanced round as the other biologists resumed their work. "Moira," he said again, voice quieter, "I think our son is a snob."
"What?" She knelt at the stroller, kissed the baby. "Are you a snob, darling? I don't think so! How could you be a snob?"
"I'm serious, Moira. The way he reacts to people. He loves people with the ATA gene. If they don't have it he goes all quiet," John explained.
Moira met his gaze, disbelief in her brown eyes. "Oh come on, John! How would he possibly know? I'm sure it's just a coincidence. The people he knows best just happen to have the ATA gene, that's all."
"Really? Well, he was all quiet in Weir's office. But when Lorne passed he prattled like he does to Rodney or Carson, and Johnny doesn't know Lorne that well." Seeing her reaction, sorrow and uncertainty passing across her face he added, "sorry, Moira. I didn't mean anything by that. I'm just saying he's reacting to the gene. I swear! Is it possible because he's...strong in the Force?" John used the code words as they were keeping the fact that the baby had a double ATA gene a secret except for a select few who knew.
Moira stood. "I don't see how, John. We'll have to ask Carson but that seems highly improbable."
"I've got more reports to do. He's all yours for now." John turned, took a few steps away from the stroller. But the baby started to fuss and cry.
"John, wait!" Moira called.
John returned, eyed his son who was reaching for him. Big blue eyes filling with tears. "What's wrong now, junior? Not enough time with me?"
"Apparently not. He's all yours, John."
"I can't, Moira," John retorted, gaze wandering along the white coat she wore. "I've got new recruits to train and he can't be in the armory, now can he?" He leaned, kissed the top of the baby's head. "Sorry, son, but you're too young yet." John met her gaze, quirked a brow. "Did I ever tell you how sexy you are in a lab coat? Of course you'd have to be naked underneath it."
Before she could protest he smiled, turned and headed for the doorway.
Moira smiled, but sighed as the baby began to fuss again. Staring after his father, whimpering.
Little hands reaching. "Gaga! Gaga goo! Dada!" he suddenly cried.
John whirled, surprised. Smiled broadly at the biologists. He strode to his son. Lifted him out of the stroller. "About time, junior!" he beamed. "Did you hear that, Moira? Did everyone hear that?" he boasted.
"Gaga goo!"
Moira laughed with the others at John's crestfallen expression. "Not yet, I'm afraid, but close. Take him, John, please. For some reason he wants his father today." She kissed the baby. "Be good for daddy, Johnny. Keep him out of trouble."
John sighed. "Fine. We'll back in one hour. One. Let's go, junior." He set the baby into the stroller, wheeled him out of the lab. "The things I have to do for you, buddy," he jested. The baby prattled, happy once more. Moira watched them go, amused.