Imitation

Silver.

The color was bright on the computer screen. Lines of collated data strung together, highlighting the similarities. Differences marked in gold. Another, smaller window was a microcosm of planetary data. Tiny colored points aligning each planet, marking a course. The lights danced, the colors merged. The data flowed into a nonsensical melange of information.

Moira Sheppard blinked. Blinked again and sighed. She sat back from the computer. Rubbed her eyes. Unable to concentrate as weariness seized her. Clawed at her body, encouraging, enforcing the need for rest upon her. Stubbornly she resisted, but as she eyed the data it didn't make sense. She couldn't find the connections. Her mind refusing to cooperate.

She scowled, stood. Reluctantly accepting defeat she trudged to her bed. Reclined upon it, curling on her side. Feeling angry at having to take yet another nap. Interrupt yet another round of research, of projects, of work. Then she felt guilty, blaming the child she carried inside her for causing such disruption. Blaming John for impregnating her in the first place. She sighed. Wished John was with her now. Was almost tempted to page him but relented. Closed her eyes and clutched the pillow, succumbing to the need for rest, relaxation.

John Sheppard stood, arms folded across his chest. At his nod the Stargate was dialed. The chevrons lit one by one. Blue light dancing along the enormous stone circle. He watched the KAWOOSH as the event horizon exploded outwards, then fell back to a shimmering circle. He glanced at the woman approaching briskly. Almost eagerly. The bounce in her steps. The TAC vest odd over her red shirt. Short dark curls springing with each motion. "Are you sure you want to do this, Elizabeth?" he asked with a smile.

Elizabeth Weir met his gaze with an admonishing scowl. Then she smiled. "Yes. This is what I have been trained for, John. And according to Teyla these people love nothing more than to negotiate for hours and hours."

"They'll never know what hit them, then," he jested.

Elizabeth laughed. "Exactly! And if I can broker a successful trading agreement we will not only have secured another food source but another ally. I suppose you are going to insist on a full marine squad?"

"Of course. You think I'd let you girls go off on your own?" he jested, but became serious. "Since Lorne is off-world I have to stay in the city."

Elizabeth smiled. "And that just gets under your skin, doesn't it? I bet you would like nothing more than to be going out there, on some mission."

John shrugged. "Yeah, you know me well, but duty calls and it says to stay here," he stated, although he wanted nothing more than to stay in the city right now. To be with Moira. "So I'm having Whitaker's team escort you. Good luck."

"Thanks. Keep things quiet here," she said with a smile. Headed down to the 'Gate room where Teyla Emmagan and the squad of marines awaited her.

John smiled. Watched them leave. He turned back to the technician. "Close the Iris. We should be hearing back from Major Lorne within the hour. Have me paged."

John entered his room, crossed the empty threshold into the one he shared with his wife. Smiled. Moira was curled on their bed, asleep. He walked over slowly, gaze roving over her loose hair. Her curves. Her rear. Her bent knees. The dark green turtleneck had ridden up a little, giving him a glimpse of bare skin above her brown pants. He got onto the bed, spooned against her. Rubbing his crotch along her rear. "Hey, baby," he said into her ear. Kissed down her throat. "Moira."

She stirred, shifted. Smiled, feeling his solidity pressed against her. She pulled his arm over her like a blanket. "John," she muttered.

He kissed her cheek. Slid back, down. Moved her shirt up and kissed along her back. Lower. Lower until she murmured. Shifted. Woke.

"John?"

He gently laughed, slid up and spooned against her again. Fingers slipping up to her breasts. "Time for lunch, sweetheart, unless you'd rather skip straight ahead to dessert. May I recommend the incomparable Sheppard's delight?"

She laughed, shoved playfully into him, cuddling. "John. Lunch sounds good. I don't quite need dessert yet, sweetie."

"Ah. Well, page me when you do." He kissed her cheek. "Lorne's team is due to radio in soon. I figured you'd want to greet their return."

She smiled. Rolled onto her back. "Yes. Thank you, colonel." She touched his jaw. His black shirt. Tugged playfully at the zipper. "John. I...I really don't like this."

"Don't like what, Moira?" he asked, shifting to keep his weight off her. He stroked her hair.

"I...I don't like being so, so tired all the damn time. I mean, I mean it's interfering with my work. I can't concentrate. The answers are right in front of me but I can't see them because I get so damn tired and then hungry and then horny and I can't work like this, John!"

He smiled. Kissed her. A gentle, lingering kiss. "You'll be fine, baby. Just go with the flow. Tired? Take a nap. Hungry? Eat. Horny? Page me immediately. I'm serious, Moy."

She smiled. Met his gaze. "Oh, I know, colonel. You are always serious about that." She kissed him. Pushed. "Scoot!" She sat. "Give me five." She moved to the bathroom.

John waited, glancing round the room. He moved to his feet. To the table. Curious, he eyed the computer. Moved the mouse to display the screens. "Moira! Are you working on all five projects again? I told you that was too many!"

"Can't be helped, John," she called from the bathroom.

"Yes, it can, Moira!" He sighed. Smiled. "Hey, baby, I checked. There is a new, fresh batch of caramel fudge. Plenty for Sheppard's delight."

She laughed. Emerged. Hair trapped in a ponytail. "Hilarious, John. Let's go. I'm hungry!"

"As ordered, Moy."

Moira swallowed, frowned. "Stop that!" she scolded, as John was staring intently at her.

"Stop what?" he asked, finishing his own sandwich as she finished hers.

"Stop staring at me! Like you are counting every bite I take!"

"I just want to be sure you are eating, that's all," he countered. Shrugged. "How do you feel, Moira? I mean, are you okay? I mean," he added to her growing ire, "apart from the usual stuff are you okay? Do you need to see Carson? I mean, are you sure you are–"

"John! You will need to see Carson if you don't stop it! I'm fine, okay! Apparently all of this crap is normal." She sighed. "Don't you worry about me, sweetie, I'm fine."

John frowned. "Are you? I mean...you...well, what I mean is you should be...well, shouldn't you be..."

"What? What should I be, John?" she asked, anger flaring. His awkward concern only making her grumpier.

"Incoming wormhole, Colonel Sheppard. Major Lorne's IDC received."

He breathed a sigh of relief at the summons. Stood. "Let's go, Moira." He tapped his earpiece as he led her to the control room. "Open the Iris. On my way."

Moira followed on his heels. "Well?" she persisted, to his regret. "What did you mean? What should I be, John? John? John, what should I–"

"Be? Quiet at the moment, okay, so I can do my job," he retorted as they reached their destination. "Major Lorne, copy?" he asked, staring at the shimmering wormhole.

"Atlantis, copy?" Evan Lorne's voice was crackling, but then cleared. "Colonel Sheppard, you won't believe what we've found out here!"

What? A working ZPM? Ancient tech?" John hoped.

"No, sir. A queen."

John glanced at Moira. "A queen what, major?"

"A queen Wraith, sir. Well, a female Wraith. We don't know if it's a queen or not. Dead, sir. As in hundreds of years dead judging by the tissue decomposition. In the ruins of the buildings. Also pieces of broken tech that isn't Ancient or Wraith. Like nothing we've encountered, sir."

"Ah."

Moira leaned over the console. "Evan? Are you sure it's a female? Adult?"

"Are you sure it's dead?" John asked, gently moving her back from the console. Shaking his head. He could already guess what she wanted.

"Moira? Yes, a female. And yes, sir. We shot it to be sure. More than once. Permission to bring it to–"

"Yes! Yes, you need to–" Moira began.

"Negative, major," John stated.

"John! We need to study this! Carson and I! This is unprecedented!" Moira urged. "We've never recovered the body of a female before! A Wraith female, John! The scientific knowledge alone is worth any–"

"I said no. Moira, it's too dangerous."

"It's dead, John! How dangerous could it be?"

"Remember zombie night? No."

"But your new, stricter protocols are–"

"No. Major, take it to the Alpha site."

"Yes, sir. Acknowledged."

"No! John, I can't go to the Alpha site!" Moira complained, catching his arm. "Remember?"

He met her gaze. "I know. And you're not going anywhere near that thing in either case. Major, transport the cargo to the Alpha site. Secure it. And the unknown alien tech. I'll meet you there with Beckett and some reinforcements. Sheppard out. Shut it down."

"John! You–" Moira protested.

John ignored her. Tapped his earpiece. "Beckett, copy? Get your gear and kit. We've got a Wraith female corpse for you to study." He cut off the doctor's astonished chatter. "Reynolds, copy? Assemble your team and meet me in the 'Gate room ASAP." He looked at Moira. "I'm not taking any chances, Moira. None. You can vid link with Carson, all right? Stay here. I've got to get my gear and I'll get Rodney to hook you up."

"John! No! It's not the same! You have to–" But he was gone, striding purposefully away from her. She sighed, swore. Stood at the console, waiting.