Conditioned Association
White.
The starkness assaulted John Sheppard's weary eyes. The pillow. The sheets. The scrubs. The brightness of the color. A sea of white upon which his wife was reclined. Her pale, pale face silent, still. Marred by a bruise at the corner of her mouth. A crimson, jagged scratch across one pale, pale cheek. Her glorious brown hair spread all over the white pillow. But still, so still. Like the rest of her. As still as the grave, he thought, but pushed the thought aside with almost physical force. Gut clenching, muscles coiled in tension. Despair. Fear.
He toucher hand, prone at her side. Curled his fingers around her stiff ones. Gently forcing them to bend, to assume the semblance of responding. Of receiving his touch, his warmth. His love.
"Um, sir, the, the, Doctors McKay and Zelenka are requesting your codes to secure the city," a very nervous marine stammered, approaching but freezing in his tracks.
John looked over at the man. Gaze like steel. "The city can go to hell for all I care!" he said harshly. Voice raw, rough. "Go! Get the hell out of here!"
The marine retreated, stumbling backwards, almost falling in his haste.
He turned back to his wife. Her hand felt cold in his. He caressed the pale, pale skin. As if he could revive her by this one act. This one touch. His gaze moved down her body slowly. White scrubs under a white sheet. His gaze pausing on her abdomen where a faint, faint red stain broke up the otherwise blinding sea of white. He pursed his lips together, staring at the stain, not knowing what it meant. Afraid to ask, but knowing he should. He looked back up at her face again. The slow, shallow breathing nearly indiscernible.
He heard footsteps. Looked up, ready to kill anyone else who dared to interrupt. But his stomach clenched as the doctor neared. Compassionate expression on his face. "Carson?" he croaked, breath catching in his throat. Heart going still.
Carson Beckett smiled. "She's fine. The baby's fine. There's no need to worry, John."
John stared, the words incomprehensible for a moment. He glanced back at his wife. Then to the doctor. "You...you're sure?"
"Aye, John. All the scans show no internal injuries. Apart from a mild knock on her head, and the bruise on her lip. The cut on her cheek which will heal, in time. Moira is unharmed, as is the baby. She protected the baby very well." Carson saw John's quick glance to the stain on the sheet. "That's from her cheek. It bled quite a bit. The baby is fine, John. A strong little solider, that one. Moira will be asleep for several hours yet." Carson moved to the other man's side. Patted his shoulder. "I'll give you a few minutes, but then, colonel, you need to reset the lock down codes and secure the city."
"Thank you." John scooted closer to the bed. Lifted Moira's hand to his lips. Kissed. Pressed her fingers to his forehead, his cheek. Head bowed as he closed his eyes. Tears threatening, burning behind his eyes. He pursed his lips together as emotions overwhelmed. Relief. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Loss. Blame. Guilt. He forced them all down. Let the relief flood him. Calmed himself. Lifted his head to gaze upon her. He freed her hand. Wiped his eyes. Kissed her brow. A tender motion of his lips upon her. Stood. Turned. "Carson, if there's any change, if she wakes up or–"
"I'll inform you immediately. Go. They're both fine, I promise you, John," Carson assured.
John took a deep breath, released it. Looked at Moira and turned as Evan Lorne entered.
"Sir?" His gaze darted to Moira. Anxiety lining his face.
"She's fine. Asleep. Ronon?"
"Recovering. More pissed than injured," Evan replied. The men briefly smiled. "Requesting permission to retrieve the body of, of Josephes, sir."
John nodded. "Of course, major. Take a Jumper, and a team, just to be sure." He tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, supervise clean-up in the Wraith lab. Dispose of every piece of that bitch. Rodney, I'm on my way." He looked back at Moira again. Assuring himself she was alive. Breathing. Just asleep. He turned. Left the infirmary.
Moira Sheppard stirred. Memories surfaced, swarmed. Hazy, indistinct images but began to take on clarity. A Wraith queen wavering in and out of existence, with Aaron Josephes. John shouting her name. Racing towards her. Towards a Wraith. Impaling it savagely with a sword, then beheading it in one swift, sure motion. Terrifying clarity as the queen towered over her. Clawed hand running over her body. Sucker protruding obscenely, over her abdomen. Taking hold, sucking greedily at the tiny life within.
"John!" Moira bolted upright, wild panic seizing her. "John, John, no no no no!" A pair of hands caught her, eased her back onto the bed. "John!"
"Easy, Moy, easy, I'm here!" John soothed, holding her firmly. "Moira! Look at me! Moy, it's all right, sweetheart."
Moira stared, calming. John's strong but gentle grasp on her shoulders. His handsome, weary face above hers. "I...I...John...John, she...John junior?" she asked tearfully.
"Fine. He's fine. You protected him, Moira," John assured, slightly easing his grip on her.
"She..." Moira closed her eyes a moment. Touched her abdomen. "I...I tried...I...John...she, she tried to, to take him! To, to feed on..." She opened her eyes, sat. "She sensed him! She knew! Knew about me, the, the poison, the gene, the, the baby, she sensed the baby the harvest the–"
"It's over, Moira." He sat close, took her into his arms. Stroked her back and kissed her brow, pressing her to him. Needing the feel of her body next to his. "She's dead. Dead, well and truly dead this time. And you are fine. John junior is fine. I'm fine. Except for you scaring the shit out of me!"
"Sorry, John," she mumbled. Holding onto to him tight. Wanting to believe his words. Needing to believe him except for that whisper of fear in her mind. "Are, are you sure?" She pulled back from him. Touched his face. The stubbly beard. Dark shadows under his eyes. Eyes a brilliant green but haunted. So haunted. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Moy, I'm sure. Absolutely sure," he insisted. Touching her hand still at her abdomen. "I wouldn't lie to you. He's fine. Untouched. You protected him."
She relaxed. "You, you look like hell, John."
He smiled. "I could say the same of you, Moira." He gently touched her bruised lip. The cut across her cheek. "Moira..." His smile faded. "Moira, I...I'm sorry. I...it's my fault, I–"
"No." She touched his lips. "Not yours. Not anyone's. Not..." She felt tears. "Aaron. Aaron's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes. I'm sorry." He kissed her uncut cheek. Drew her into his arms again. "It's my fault, Moy. I should have listened! I should have known–"
"How could you have known? We could never have foreseen this. How, how powerful she was...what she wanted...the, the harvest...the..." She shuddered.
"Yes, we could. The clues were there. You tried to warn me. Moira, Moira, if, if anything had happened to you or to the baby I...I couldn't...I..."
"No." She touched his lips again, halting his self-incriminating words, his grief. "You saved me, John. Saved us. Both of us."
"But not Aaron." He sighed. "Moy, the clues were there all along. Second queen to pawn. We need to look at the flash drive."
"The what? Why?" She considered. "You think there's a fourth message. You don't really think the, the colonel would have–"
"I don't know. But we have to find out. Moira." He kissed her lips gently. "Rest. I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm fine, John. Just a little shaken up, is all." She licked her lips. "Actually...a little hungry."
"Hungry?" he asked, raised a brow. "Huh."
"Hunger is good," Carson stated, nearing. He smiled. "You were very lucky, Moira. Apart from the bumps and bruises and that scratch you are unharmed. And John is right. The baby is fine. Absolutely fine, I promise you. John, I'm sorry, but Rodney needs you to input your codes again. In the meantime I will get my favorite patient something to eat."
"No," John refused. "I am staying with Moira."
"Go on, John," she insisted. Gently pushing free of his arms. "I'm fine. Please. You need to set those codes. Then, then I want to go to our room. Carson?"
"I don't see why not, as long as John looks after you."
"If you're sure?" John asked, reluctantly letting her slip free of his arms.
"I'm sure. Go on, John."
John kissed her. "All right. Back in five." He looked at Carson as he stood. The two men crossed the room. "Doc, are you sure you can release her?"
"Yes. I want her out of here before Evan brings back Aaron's body. I don't want her to see that."
"Oh. Good thinking. Thanks. I'll be back in five. And you're sure, you are certain she is fine and the baby is fine?"
Carson nodded. "Yes, John. I wouldn't release her otherwise. They are both fine. Go."
Moira waited until John had departed. She shifted, moving the scrub top to view her abdomen. Faint, faint marks lingered from the Wraith queen's sucker. She shivered. Dropped the shirt and looked up as Carson neared. "Tell me."
Carson hesitated, brow creasing as he glanced around the infirmary. Back to Moira who was steadily gazing at him. Calm. Resolute. Stubborn. "It's nothing, love, I swear."
She frowned. "Carson. It must be something. I remember that, that thing trying to feed on me. No. Not on me. On the, the baby. It sensed it, Carson! It knew! It knew I was the one, the poisoner, the gene...so it must have communicated telepathically with the ATA ones. How else would it know about my genetic code? The ATA gene? And it sensed the baby. It, it wanted the baby, Carson, the harvest. It tried to...what did it do?"
Carson sat on the bed next to her. Took her hand into hers. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Carson, don't you dare lie to me! What is wrong with the baby?"
"Nothing, I swear! Love, the baby is fine. Because of the, the attack, the sucker...the baby has shifted a wee bit, but it's nothing to be alarmed about. The baby will be needing more room in either case, and will get larger. It's not that."
"Then what? Carson?"
"It's the baby, Moira. The baby is perfectly fine. Developing normally. Healthy, strong. Very strong."
"Well, that's good, right? Right? Wait...strong...you mean...strong in the gene? The ATA gene. The double I have because of–"
"You don't have the double, Moira." Carson glanced at her abdomen, met her gaze. "The baby does."
