Ritualization
Black.
John Sheppard stared down into the depths of his coffee mug. The hot liquid was dark. Unfathomable. Rippling as he tapped the side of the blue cup with one finger. Steam wafted from the beverage, tickling his nose with the strong aroma. He took a careful, tentative sip. Mindful of the healing scab on his lower lip. His tongue and palate protested the heat but he swallowed anyway.
He set down the cup. Closed his eyes a moment. Weariness washed over him. He hadn't been sleeping well the past two nights. He rubbed his temples. Not from any headache or pain but from his circling thoughts. Emotions he tried to squelch, to deny. To ignore. He opened his eyes to stare across the room. To stare at Moira O'Meara.
She sat alone at a table. Seemingly absorbed in whatever was on the screen of the data pad set in front of her. Long brown hair bound by a ponytail, but strands were slipping loose to trail along her shoulder, arm. Long-sleeved charcoal shirt and slacks. He idly wondered what color underwear she had on beneath the clothes. His scrutiny traced the weariness on her face. The sleepless nights. The misery he knew all too well. Try as he might to deny it.
He drank more coffee. Looked away from her lest she see his scrutiny. His interest. His concern.
"I'm done!" Rodney McKay announced, joining him at the table. He set a tray full of food down. Smiled. Waited. Rolled his eyes at John's blank stare. "Well? Do you even know what I'm talking about? The Jumper! I've realigned the drive pod! In fact I completely reprogrammed the basic systems and had the techs reinstall the drive pod's angular rods to ease the process of retraction and release. I'm not an engineer, you know, I'm an astrophysicist but I think, no, I know that I have not only fixed the ship but made it better. That drive pod won't be a problem again, trust me. So are you ready?"
"For?" John asked, only listening to half of Rodney's swift flow of words. Tuning out most of it and only listening for the important points. Watching Moira again. She was nibbling on a bagel. Taking small bites. Almost as if nuzzling it, teasing it. He scratched at his neck suddenly. Evan Lorne walked over to her, distracting her gaze from the data pad. He was in full gear and John wondered why Moira wasn't. Recalled Lorne's team was leaving on a mission today.
Rodney heavily sighed. "For what? To go on a test flight! It was your idea, John!"
"Oh. Yeah." He drank some more coffee. Met Rodney's exasperated gaze. "Okay."
"Well, don't thank me or anything!" Rodney fumed. "Don't get too excited! Why you insist on that particular ship is beyond me! They're all Jumpers! They're all the same!"
"No, they're not. That particular ship is mine," John stated. Sourly eyed his half-eaten breakfast.
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Moira was staring at the words on the screen. But they could have been hieroglyphics for all of the sense they made to her. She was trying not to look at John. Was aware of him sitting across the room from her. Very aware. Listening to the unique cadences of his voice, the rise and fall of tone and pitch but not the exact words. Few and far between as they were. She looked up as Evan tapped the data screen. "Oh. Hi."
Evan smiled. "Hi. Are you sure you can't go with us?" he asked. A trace of suspicion in his blue eyes. And concern. "I know a meet and greet is not the most exciting mission but it beats moping around here."
She frowned. "I'm not moping. No, Carson advised me to stay here and rest my foot. I don't know why it started to cramp again. I'll go on the next mission."
Evan considered, as if debating the veracity of her words. "Okay. As long as you are sure, Moira. But you owe me."
"Owe you?" she asked, puzzled.
He nodded. "Yes. Big time. For leaving me to deal with Kavanaugh on my own."
She shrugged. "Sorry. I'll buy you a beer when you get back."
"Make it two," he quipped, causing a brief smile to appear on her face. He touched her shoulder. "Take care. Back in a few."
"You too." She watched him leave. Let her gaze wander to John. Saw his fatigue. A purplish bruise under his right eye. The scab on his lower lip. The bandage on his cut hand. The black wristband covering his slashed wrist. A wave of compassion, of worry assailed her. Wanting to comfort him, soothe him. She brushed the emotions aside. Resumed her attention on the text in front of her. The blinking cursor.
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"Major Lorne." John's voice halted Evan at their table. "Why isn't O'Meara geared up for the mission?"
Evan eyed him. Neutral expression on his face but a coldness in his blue eyes. "Health reasons, sir. If you'll excuse me we embark in five." At John's nod he strode out of the cafeteria.
"Health reasons? What's wrong with her?" Rodney asked. John wondered the same thing but shrugged at his friend's inquisitive gaze. Rodney turned in his chair. "Moira!" he called. "Why aren't you going on the mission?"
Moira looked across the room, startled by the address. "My foot," she answered. Said nothing further. Eyes darting to John. To see his puzzlement. She stared back at her data pad.
Rodney turned back to John. "Oh. Well, you could have said something since it is just her foot, John. What's the big deal? Oh...I see...well, if you two need some alone time I can get another pilot to test the Jumper. In fact that might be preferable to your sulking mood."
"Let's go." John stood. "Test flight." He glanced at Moira again. Curious about her foot. Wondered if that was the real reason she had declined the mission.
"Okay. Unless you'd rather take Moira with you," Rodney teased, but John turned and left the table without any kind of response. "What? What did I say now?" Rodney wondered. Glanced back at Moira. Moved to follow John.
Moira looked up to watch John leave. Resisting the urge to intercept him. Admiring the economy of movement in his long strides. The double strap of his holster encircling his thigh. She berated herself for the hopeless yearning. Looked at the data pad to lose herself in the science. The safety and security of facts, names, numbers. Of emotionless data.
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John lost himself in the sheer joy of flying. Performing technical maneuvers that had Rodney grabbing his seat in panic. Exclaiming at the daredevil spins and turns. Drops and acceleration.
John found himself grinning at his friend's terror. He gripped the controls, testing the machine to its limits. Flew over the ocean, over the mainland. Thoughts mostly free of Moira for a little while as he executed an array of attack and evasive maneuvers.
Rodney gulped yet again. Shook his head as the ship flew evenly over the mainland. "Well...um, I'd say the drive pod is fixed, wouldn't you?"
John smiled. "Yeah. I would. Flies like a dream, Rodney. Good work."
"Good...oh. You're welcome. You, um, don't have to do that anymore."
"What? Thank you?"
"No! You don't have fly like a kamikaze pilot, okay? I would hate to have to fix it again if you were to crash."
"Not going to happen. Trust me, Rodney. I've flown nearly everything."
"So you keep telling me," Rodney retorted. "Hey! Is that the–"
"Gunnery station? Yeah, what's left of it. Just testing. If we get shot down you'll have to not only fix this ship again but the whole system." John scanned the inert gun pointing like a giant finger into the blue sky. "No energy readings."
"Good! I told you, the whole thing is defunct now. But I could have fixed it. Yes, I know the risk," he grumbled, before John could interrupt him, "but it would have been worth it, don't you agree? For the protection of the entire city! I could have found a way to bypass the looping power to make it more efficient and more secure!"
"Doesn't matter now, Rodney," John replied. Swerving the vehicle again to skim over the mainland. Over the tops of the trees as he accelerated. Accelerated.
"No, I guess you're right. No! It does! I'm surprise you weren't all over this! Big shiny guns and all!" the scientist fumed.
"Yeah," John stated. Mind elsewhere. "How are those inertia dampeners holding up?"
"What?" Rodney checked the screen. "Fine. Why do you ask? We just oh no!" He found himself shoved into the back of his seat as John turned the ship into a nearly vertical climb. Flew directly upwards into the blue sky. "You could have warned me!"
"Nah. It's more fun like this." John smiled. "Breaking atmosphere. Let's take a spin around the planet."
"Why?" Rodney asked, clutching the sides of the seat as the ship sped through clouds. The blue faded into black as they left the atmosphere and were free of the planet. Rodney checked the screens. "Everything's fine. Stable. No problems. What is this, a joyride now?"
"Something like that." John eyed the controls, then the vast darkness of space. "Scan the planet."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Testing." John relaxed into the seat. The controls steady in his hands. The ship purring under his control. Reacting to his thoughts.
Rodney shook his head. Nevertheless he activated the scanners. Checked the screens. John brought the HUD to life. Perused the readings. "See? It all works. And there is nothing out of the ordinary. See that bright dot?" Rodney pointed to a crimson circle. "That's Atlantis. The only source of power on the entire planet. Which is mostly composed of water, you know."
"Yeah, I know."
"Interestingly enough it seems to be like early Earth, in that there is one large landmass amidst the larger ocean. Rather like Pangaea, the super continent before it broke apart into the more familiar land masses we now know. Oh, you know all this, of course, don't you, since you're dating Moira. I'm sure she's filled your head with all of that prehistoric–"
"Whatever. Let's head back." John frowned, veered back towards the planet. From space it appeared like a sapphire ball.
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Moira rubbed her eyes. Stretched her sore arms and back. She had been hunched in the same position for hours. She stared at the screen in front of her. Hit the print button. "There. It's done. Finally."
"Good. If I read one more genetic comparison I think I may go cross-eyed," Peter Harrison said. Ran a hand through his gray hair. "I've sent it ahead to Beckett. You're printing the hard copies, right? For Weir and Sheppard?"
"Yes," Moira said. Moved to stand near the printer as it busily spit out page after page. Full of words and charts and graphs. "Not that they'll understand all the details. Just the main stuff. The collation between the two species."
"We can save the nitty gritty for later. Right now they'll just want the cold, hard facts."
Moira smiled. Grabbed the sheets and held them out. "Here. You can–"
"Oh no." Peter held up his hands. "It's your project, Moira. You did most of the work. You can hand in the reports. Then we can move onto more important things, like the prehistoric megafauna project."
Moira hesitated. "But you're the head of biology, Peter. You should–"
"Oh no," he said again, smiling. "You can deliver those, can't you? Besides, you may need to answer questions about it. Go on."
She sighed. "Fine. But you owe me."
Peter laughed. "Owe you? Weir won't bite your head off, and as for Sheppard, well, a little bird told me that he would be putty in your hands so go on."
Moira nearly crushed the papers in her grasp. She nodded, turned, left the biology lab. Not bothering to refute the claim. Correct Peter. Inform him of the break-up. She found herself glad to have an excuse, any excuse to see John. Conversely she dreaded facing him. Not knowing what to say, how to act, what to do.
A slight limp marred her stride. She bit her lower lip. Felt guilty about exaggerating the pain in her foot to stay in the city. To stay until John left on his mission. She chastised herself for the longing. Yearning after him like some lovesick teenager but couldn't help herself. Knew she should just accept it. Ignore him. Move on. But she couldn't quite let go.
She paused on the threshold to Elizabeth's office. It was empty. Relieved Moira darted inside, set the report down on the desk. Noted its tidiness. She exited, clutching the second report like a shield. Wondering where John was. Wondering how to find him. She passed the conference room. Glanced inside. Stopped. Glanced back. Entered quietly, smiling.
John was seated at the head of the table. Sprawled against it, head turned to one side, cushioned by his folded arms. Asleep. Hair disordered as always. A trace of stubble on his jaw. Long lashes sweeping darkly against his skin. Full, perfect lips at repose. The black t-shirt molded across his back, riding up a little to give her a teasing glimpse of bare skin. Of blue striped boxers.
Moira set down the report. Touched his shoulder. Nudged. He didn't move. "John? John?" She nudged again. Shook him gently. She smirked. "John!" she said sharply, pushing at him.