Vegas in Red: I Still Miss Someone
To find her, or forever to deplore Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure.
"Idiots," Carson Beckett muttered to himself. He peered through the microscope. Sat back and oh so carefully eased the follicle of hair into a petri dish. He set the sample into a machine, turned back and inserted another slide under the lens of the microscope. Studied it, turning the knob to increase the magnification. "Morons," he muttered. He punched some buttons on the machine. Readings were displayed on a cracked screen. "Yes."
John Sheppard sighed. Knowing he should be accustomed to scientists and their odd shorthand. "Yes what?" he asked, standing in the makeshift lab located in basement of the bar. He glanced round the darkened room, at the medical equipment and machines. It reminded him of a low-rent Frankenstein's lab, but he kept the smirk off his face as the Scottish doctor turned to him.
"Yes. You've got something here. Barely enough DNA but I can tell you right off the bat the hair is human."
John smiled. "And?"
"And? And when I'm done I might have more. That's all I've got for now."
"That can't be all. I mean, there has to be something else, something other than human," John argued. He gestured towards the machine. "What does that say?"
"It doesn't say anything," Carson noted. "It is giving me a detailed analysis in case there is something else but if there is it will only prove cross-contamination. There's not much to go on here, detective. Don't you have your own scientists for this kind of thing?"
"Yes, I did, I mean I do. I just need a second opinion." He felt a pang, ignored it like he had all the others. The oblique reference to Moira and the resultant emotional reaction."
"I'm only doing this as a favor for her, not you, detective, just so we're clear. Got it? I am certainly not part of your bloody team!"
"And if the hair proves to be more than human?" John tested. "What then, doc? Can that count as proof?"
"No."
"Look, if I could get you in there to see the alien prisoner I would but I—"
"But instead you've mucked it all up, haven't you?"
"Come again?"
Carson shook his head, turning back to the microscope. "The specimen. If there is some anomalous reading it will only prove contamination."
"Or it will prove that it is from an alien life form. I was careful when I collected it, doc. I know the protocols. This is not my first crime scene and will be far from my last one."
"And yes, you mucked it up with Moira as well." Carson turned to him, expression serious. "Why can't you just man up and tell her?"
"Tell her what?" John asked, puzzled. Annoyed as the doctor was venturing into more personal territory now.
"Why do you think she ran? Because of you."
"Huh? No! Not that it's any of your business if anything is going on between Moira and myself but she needed to take that job. She needed the money and couldn't pass up the opportunity."
"Bullocks! She could have stayed here and worked with you. But she ran. Because you are as bad as she is. Admit it!"
"Admit what?" John asked, confused now.
"Admit you drove her away, you son of a bitch!" John turned at the voice. Turned right into Evan's swinging fist. He staggered as the blow hit him solidly across the jaw. "You drove her away! You!" Evan accused.
"I did not!" John refuted, swinging his own fist but Evan darted out of the way.
"Enough!" Carson demanded, trying to part the two men.
"What did you do? What did you do to her?" Evan shouted, trying to get round Carson but the doctor blocked him, hands up to keep the two men apart.
John wiped the blood off his lower lip. Smiled. "You wanna know what I did to her? I gave her the fuck of her life. Repeatedly."
"You son of a—"
"Enough! There'll be no brawling in me bar! Or down here!"
"I saw the bruises!" John stated. Angry now. "I saw what you did to her!"
Evan blinked, startled. Had to think back to remember. "It was an accident!"
"Hold up!" Carson turned to Evan. "You hurt our Moira?"
"No! I would never—"
"Yes! I saw the bruises on her arm you fucking bastard! I won't let you ever—"
"It was an accident, I swear! I'd never hurt her!"
"Yet you did, accident or not! If you so much as lay a finger on her again I will kill you!"
"Enough!" Carson glowered. "Even by accident you are culpable, Evan! If John's threat isn't enough let me add mine to it. Go!"
"It was an accident! I swear! I would never hurt her, never!" Evan defended. Abashed at his loss of control, at hurting Moira in the first place, however unintentionally.
"You'll never get the chance again, buddy," John vowed, voice low. Serious.
"No, I guess not since you drove her out of the country to fucking Mongolia!"
"I didn't—"
"Shut it, the pair of you! Go!" Carson pointed up the stairs. Evan shrugged, climbed them. The doctor watched him leave, then eyed John. "It probably was an accident. I can't see him ever hurting her intentionally. He doesn't have it in him."
"Well, I do. To hurt him, I mean, if he ever tries that shit again with Moira I'll—"
"You'll what?" Carson shoved past him. "If you had manned up and told her your feelings she never would have gone in the first bloody place!"
"My…I don't have feelings," John argued, scowling.
"Really? And what was that just now?"
"I…" John sighed. At a loss. "Call me when you get the results. I have to get back."
"You could have stopped her, John. Stopped her leaving."
John paused on the stairs. Glared at the steps. "I tried. I mean I mucked up her passport but she somehow got it sorted."
"No. You could have stopped her if you had told her how you feel. Why do you think she ran, John? Because she feels the same way. Lord, the pair of you are obstinate, aren't you?"
John tensed. "I told you, doc, I don't have feelings. And if she does…well, it was better that she left, then. Now lay off!"
"Fine. Then stop moping about her and don't call me doc!"
"I don't mope," John muttered under his breath as he headed for the police station. Working his sore jaw as he mulled over Carson's words, observations. Cursed as he saw a throng of reporters clustered around the entrance. Television cameras pointed at the doors, microphones in the air. He tried to head for the back entrance but like a flock of birds they descended around him.
"Detective, detective, is it true? Is there a psycho killer loose in Vegas? Do the citizens need to be warned? Is it the return of the Vegas Vampire? Is it a serial killer?" The reporters were all shouting at once, shoving mikes into his face as cameras flashed and zoomed in on his disgruntled expression. They sounded more eager than concerned that a killer could be stalking the land for another victim.
John was silent. He made his way through them, shoving when necessary. Squinting at the flash of lights. Shoving recorders out of his face. He had circled and had just reached the doors, had just reached escape when a familiar voice assailed him, and a hand tugged his jacket.
"Detective Sheppard, is there a serial killer on the loose and can you verify that this was no random animal attack as experts have asserted? Is the suspect a native or is the suspect even from Earth?"