Selection Factor

Yellow.

The bright color was everywhere. On the clothes of the friendly inhabitants. On banners strewn across the large village in honor of their arrival. And departure. It was the color of the various foods and drinks that were offered. In the blankets and linens shoved upon them as gifts. It was the color of the leaves hanging on the expanse of trees. The flowers lining their way, dotting the paved path to the Stargate. Encircling the ground around the stone monument like chicks clustering round a mother hen.

John Sheppard was sick of the color. Sick of the planet. He held his temper, his tongue, watching the event horizon form. A shimmering circle that would transport him to Atlantis. That would transport him home. He glanced at his team, then without a word entered the matter stream.

Dirty, disheveled, disappointed he stepped into the 'Gate room. His team followed.

"What a colossal waste of my valuable time!" Rodney McKay announced loudly. In disgust he brushed dirt off his uniform, shifted his pack on his shoulder.

"If I have to endure one more festival I swear I'll shoot someone!" John agreed. "Debrief in thirty. Hell, it will only take five."

"I take it the mission was not a success?" Elizabeth Weir asked, eying them. Torn between amusement and concern. They all appeared frustrated, tired. Dirty. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ronon Dex stated flatly. "Absolutely nothing."

Teyla Emmagan sighed. "We made fair trade, but other than that–"

"A complete and utter waste of my time!" Rodney insisted. "Why on Earth my team was selected for this mission I will never understand! There was no technology!"

"No Wraith," Ronon agreed.

"Nothing but sunshine and happiness on Planet Buttercup!" Rodney fumed. "And to make it worse we have to participate in another God-awful festival which included games! That's why we are a mess! I hate Planet Buttercup!"

"Rodney, you know how important it is to secure allies on several worlds, even if they are not as technologically advanced as we are," Elizabeth chided. "John?"

John was looking past her at the control room. Surprised that his wife had not appeared to greet him. He met her gaze. "Rodney's right. I think a lower echelon team could have handled this mission. It's more important we start exploring those other planets. The ones off the main grid, so to speak, as I suggested. So far we haven't found any more of that alien technology but that doesn't mean to say it isn't out there."

"I think it is more important to contact worlds with inhabitants, John. We've been over this before. Debrief in thirty, as you suggested. Then we can discuss this further."

"No, John's right," Rodney agreed, moving next to his friend. "Why did you take us off those missions? Granted I may have misidentified the source planet of those beings, but I will find it given time and resources. And this tech...true, I haven't been able to piece more of it together but I will, given time–"

"And resources," John continued smoothly, "which would be better spent on discovering those outer worlds then these routine meet and greets. Frankly, if these worlds can't be suitable allies to us I don't see the point of brokering alliances."

"John! Rodney! Are you telling me you both would rather chase after this useless alien tech on deserted worlds then make meaningful alliances?"

"At least we wouldn't have to endure another festival," Ronon drily commented.

"Debrief in thirty." John strode to the control room. "Chuck, locate Moira for me."

"She's in the infirmary, sir."

"The..." Instantly John whirled, took the stairs two at a time.

"Sir! She said it was a routine scan!" he called after the fleeing colonel. "Oh no."

John sprinted down the hallways. "Get out of the way!" he shouted, swerving, swinging his P90. Startling the city's inhabitants who jumped to either side of him. He ran into the infirmary, skidded to a sudden halt. Startling a nurse who dropped a tray. It clattered to the floor. Instruments clanged, flew in every direction.

Moira Sheppard was sitting on a bed, looking perfectly fine. A blue cardigan sweater enveloped her. Ponytail in place. "John? You don't have to terrorize the medical staff!" she scolded. "Didn't Chuck tell you it's just a routine scan?"

He shrugged. Sheepishly eyed the scattered instruments. "Uh, sorry. I...I took off before he could...um...sorry." He walked over to her. "Moira, I heard you were here and just..." His voice stopped as he took in her appearance.

The blue cardigan concealed most of her, but as John drew closer and she turned to him he could see the changes even her dark green shirt couldn't hide. Fuller breasts. Curving hips. A very visible baby bump at her abdomen. "It's just a routine scan, John, don't you worry. John? John, stop staring!" She drew the oversized sweater around her, suddenly self-conscious.

"Ah, colonel, impeccable timing. Moira wanted to wait until you got back but I had to insist. Since you are here now she won't be able to refuse me," Carson Beckett noted with as smile. He turned to Moira. "This is much more accurate than an ultra sound. I won't even have to lift your shirt, but that bulky sweater must be open, love."

She sighed. "Okay, Carson." She laid back, trying to relax. Hesitated. Opened the sweater. She held up her hand. "John?"

He broke from his astonishment, moved to her. Took her hand into his. "That won't hurt John junior, will it?" he asked, staring at the scanner now.

"No, John. Here we go. It's keyed to the screen there." Carson ran the scanner over her slowly. "Well, well, look at that! Looks like we have a baby in there, love. So it's not your love of French fries after all."

Moira laughed. "Good to know, Carson. Wow." She eyed the monitor near the bed.

"I don't see him," John complained, staring at the monitor.

She smirked. "There." She pointed. "There!" She watched his puzzled expression. Sighed.

"In the middle of the blurry bits, colonel. That wee little figure," Carson pointed. "A perfectly fine and healthy baby. Good, strong heartbeat. Good development. Ten fingers. Ten toes."

"Oh! There!" John exclaimed, suddenly making out the form of his son. He pointed. "Wow. He's small."

Carson laughed. "Aye, John, but he will get bigger."

"So will I," Moira noted grumpily. Carson laughed.

"Aye, so will you, love. Do you want to know the sex?"

"Yes," John and Moira chorused at the same time. They exchanged a glance.

"John...you were right after all. It's a boy." Carson shut down the scanner. "I'll print up the scan if you like. All done, Moira."

Moira sat, closing the sweater over her. "Thank you, Carson, yes, please do that." She swung her legs off the bed, nearly knocking into John who was peering at the monitor. Squinting at the tiny figure on it.

"Are you still naming him John junior then?" Carson asked.

John glanced at Moira. Was silent. She smiled. "Yes." John smiled, grinning ear to ear. She looked at Carson. "Although we still need a middle name."

"What? If he's going to be junior he will have John's middle name," the doctor argued.

"Apparently not in this galaxy. John insists that he can be a junior without his middle name, so we need to pick one. The colonel laid down some tough restrictions. No friends. No scientists. No Irish names. I have no idea what to do."

"You have plenty of time to find a name, love."

John was staring at Moira, completely thrown by the sudden enormity of impending fatherhood.

"Moira...you...you're going to have a baby," he said solemnly.

She nodded, meeting his gaze. Brows raised. "Yes, John. It's not a surprise, is it?"

"Nothing gets by our colonel," Carson jested.

John frowned. "I mean I know that! Of course I know. I'm the one who impregnated her! I just...you...you are going to have my son."

"Yes, thanks to your damn sperm," she gently teased. Shooed Carson away. John sat on the opposite bed, feeling lightheaded. His gaze roved over her. The sudden changes. The reality of seeing his son.

"John." She stood, caught his hands in hers. Kissed him. "Are you all right?"

"Huh? Yeah, sweetheart. I...sorry! I didn't mean to zone out on you. It's just...you know. Seeing you...seeing him. You...you are having my son, Moira. I...I don't know if I'm ready," he stammered. A host of self-doubt plaguing him.

She smiled. Kissed him. "You have plenty of time, sweetie. I'll give you a minute. I love you, John." She moved to Carson, took the scan he offered. Placed it in her pocket.

"Is he all right?" Carson asked, glancing back at John's unmoving form. He was staring at his hands, lost in thought.

"Yes. I think that seeing the baby just made it all too real for him. He'll be fine. You are sure the baby is okay?"

"Perfectly fine, Moira, as are you," Carson assured.

"I can safely use the 'Gate now?"

"Yes. Wee Sheppard is an individual life form now, Moira. There's no danger to him from the matter stream. So you'll be running around the galaxy again?"

She laughed. "No. Not yet. I would like to get out of the city, though. Maybe I can convince John to take me."

John was watching Moira. Staring at her. The fall of her ponytail. The blue sweater that was long enough to conceal her rear from him. He felt shell-shocked. The reality undeniable now. Thoughts cluttered in confusion. Emotions threatening. Worry. Joy. Love. He watched her turn, walk over to him. She touched his knees.

"How was the mission?"

"Huh? The what? Oh. Boring. Stupid." He touched the sweater, opened it. Ran his hands down the sides of her breasts. Cupped them. A sensual smile appeared. His hands slid down lower, gently touched her swelling abdomen. Intense warmth filled his beautiful green eyes. Tears sparkled. Moira stared at his emotional reaction, rare enough but so beautiful, so full of love and joy she opened her mouth but no words came. He raised his eyes to hers. Turned away, standing suddenly. "Something in my eye," he gruffly said. Voice thick with emotion. He wiped his eyes.

She smiled. Touched his back. "Okay, John." She caressed gently. A soothing motion of her fingers. Waited.

He turned back to her. Gaze narrowed. Oddly vulnerable. "Not a word, Moy."

"Of course not, John." She closed the sweater over her. "Don't you have a debrief? You should go and cleaned up first."

"A what? A...oh...yeah. I..." He glanced down at his dirty clothes.

"I'll meet you in the cafeteria afterwards, colonel. For lunch. Okay? John?"

"I...okay, Moira. I..."

She kissed him. "Will you be all right, John? Don't walk into any walls," she teased.

"What? I...oh, hilarious, Moira!"

"I've never seen you like this, John. So flustered and uncertain...it's absolutely adorable."

"Moira!" he scolded, embarrassed. Normally he had better mastery of his emotions, his thoughts. But both were scattering, flitting, out of control. Visible.

She smiled. Kissed him. "I love you, John." She left him.

John watched her go. Realized he should have returned the sentiment at the very least. All the things he wanted to say to her tangled on his tongue. How happy he was, how full of joy, how much he loved her. More than anyone, anything. How he had never expected any of this. Had never dared to imagine any of it. He berated himself for his silence. Headed for his room to clean up, to try to dampen his reactions. To untangle his tongue and his thoughts.