Vegas: Invasion
"To be or not to be; that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?"
9 months after invasion.
Detective John Sheppard trod wearily down the hallway. He was exhausted, dirty, dusty, sweaty, and sore but he kept walking. His feet plodded inexorably towards his goal but he was waylaid by an aide who thrust a data pad into his hands. John kept walking, giving a cursory glance at the information scrolling along the screen. He grunted, handed it back to the aide and entered the control center.
"Reno's holding but it won't last much longer," Doctor Rodney McKay stated without preamble. He turned from a radio to nod briskly at John, the only acknowledgement as he turned back to scan the increasingly sporadic frequencies. A line of technicians were seated side by side by side, all wearing headphones and twisting little knobs on antiquated but so far effective equipment.
"Caldwell?" John asked, setting the data pad onto a table littered with papers and empty coffee cups and a box of stale doughnuts.
"No word yet."
"Lorne?"
"Heading up the defense of NORAD and the SGC. He hopes to find some stray Drones to send our way, but it doesn't look good. At the very least we've still got a working Stargate and access to naquadah bombs."
John grunted in reply. He glanced along the dark monitors. "You'll get 'em to work. Weir?"
"Shoring up the leftovers from the last culling. Look." Rodney turned, unrolled a map of the United States across the table. Portions were lined in red. Others in green. He pointed as he talked. "The East Coast is gone now. The West is soon to follow. That leaves us here, up to the front lines in Chicago, down to Dallas, and up to Portland. Canada's holding but it's shaky. Mexico is falling. South America capitulated."
"Great." John scowled.
"You saw the updates?"
"Yeah." John shifted his stance. Aches assaulted him. He was so tired he could have fallen asleep on his feet, but not yet. Not yet. "Anything else?"
"Not at the moment no. Oh…we're running out of popcorn."
The two men shared a brief smile.
"I'll grab some on the next run. I'm starting my twenty-four now, Rodney." He glanced round at the technicians, the scientists, as if any would dispute his right to his twenty-four hours of being completely left alone.
Twenty-four hours when no one was to disturb him for any reason. There were no exceptions. None. Twenty-four hours when he was no longer in charge of the defense of this sector. This sector of America that was still standing. One of the pockets of planet Earth's defenses against the invaders.
Against the Wraith.
"Where?" he asked, his voice clipped and terse.
"Lab three, level two."
John nodded. He turned, resumed walking. He paused at the armory, handing over his P90, his TAC vest, his handgun and grenades. He dusted off his camo gear, but only made it worse as dirt fluttered and just settled in new places on him. He sighed, headed for the stairs and descended two flights. He nodded as people greeted him, marines with deference and salutes, scientists with politeness and smiles.
A flurry of voices drew him to one of many laboratories located deep within the facility. He paused on the threshold. Scientists were swarming like bees all buzzing at once, throwing theories and words into the air and seemingly not listening to each other. It was a blur of white coats and gesticulating arms.
John blinked to clear his sight. To find the one scientist he wanted. The one scientist he needed. She was standing at a microscope, an island of stillness and quiet in the cacophony around her. She was peering at something through the lenses, oblivious to the commotion around her, or used to it by now. Her long brown hair was trapped in a ponytail that snaked down her back, down the white lab coat she wore.
John entered the room. Voices paused, hushed. The mutter of colonel went round. He had been instantly reinstated to the Air Force after the invasion; promoted from major to colonel in one day. He neared with slow steps. He smiled. "Doctor Sheppard…bringing sexy back to the lab coat," he drawled in a husky voice.
Doctor Moira Sheppard smiled, hearing his voice. She closed her eyes a moment, drowning in the sheer relief that he was safe and back with her once more. She turned to him. "Detective."
John smiled. She was the only one who still called him that. A title from another life. A life before the invasion. Her white coat parted to reveal her very swollen belly under a green t-shirt. He stepped to her. Kissed her, a brush of his lips across hers.
He tried for a deeper kiss but she giggled softly as his beard tickled her. "John," she said warmly.
He touched her arms. His hands slid down to either side of her fuller breasts, down to her hips. He moved to his knees in front of her and gently touched her belly, kissed it tenderly. "Hey John junior. Not ready yet?"
"Not yet, John," Moira sighed, staring down at him. "Carson says it could be any day now." He met her gaze, concern and love filling his green eyes, and she marveled over the sheer beauty of the man at her feet. Even dirty and sweaty and grimy and bearded he was still impossibly handsome. His disarray only gave him a rakish quality that made her long for a more sensual greeting. She touched his hands on her belly.
It was an oddly intimate moment between them and the others in the room looked away with awkward coughs and embarrassed silence.
John moved to his feet. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, sweetie, don't worry. John!" Suddenly she engulfed him in a hug, kissing him lavishly.
John returned the kisses, the hug. "Let's go, baby," he said into her ear. Turned with his arm around her. "Twenty-four," he informed her. "Quadruple S starts now, Moy." He freed her only to take her hand and lead her towards the doorway.
The scientists parted like a white wave, allowing them passage. "Colonel, what is quadruple S?" one asked, perplexed at yet another new military code he might have to learn.
John paused to smile at the younger man, informed gravely, "shower shave sex sleep. But not necessarily in that order." He raised a brow as he glanced at his wife.
"John Sheppard!" Moira scolded, feeling a blush on her face at his suggestive, playful expression. "Let's go, detective, before that warrant expires!"
John laughed. "That's more sex talk for—"
"John!" She pulled him out of the room.
"What? I was just being helpful."
"Great, just great. Now he'll be trying to figure out how the hell we do it when I'm this big!" she grumbled, pulling him down another flight of stairs with awkwardly.
"We can always demonstrate Sheppard's Delight for him, baby," John reasoned with a smirk. "There were plenty of tables in there."
"Funny, John. Shut up!"
He chuckled at her scolding."Stop it, Moy. You know arguing with you gives me a hard-on."
She paused in the doorway to their room. Turned and smiled coyly at him. "I know."
John grinned.