Stargate Atlantis: S7—The Last Story3
John woke. He moved slowly in the comfortable bed. Moira was tangled with him. She was sound asleep at last although she was holding onto him like he was a raft in a stormy sea. He gently disengaged himself and lightly kissed her cheek. He sat and looked at her a moment. His wife was finally here with him in Atlantis but he knew something was wrong.
He looked round the familiar confines of his room. For a moment all was peaceful. Then the memories descended and he frowned. He rubbed at the sore spot on his chest, under his t-shirt. He knew he would have to face everyone. He knew they would demand explanations, both for his deceptions and what had occurred on the ship. He knew reports would need to be made and plans strategized.
He knew there would be ceremonial funerals to attend.
John looked at Moira again. He tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her face. Although angry that she had been involved in the rescue he was also touched by her stubborn devotion. He felt a fierce protective concern. He knew how difficult it would be for her in the city. Reluctantly he slid out of the blankets and headed for the bathroom.
May as well get going and get it all over with now.
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He walked the hallways: this solitary man in black, somber and stern, the military leader of Atlantis. Except now he was not as solitary. His wife was in his bed, in his city. A brief smile came and went, as did a lingering desire that he knew he would have assuage soon.
Grief wrapped round him like a shroud but he shunted all emotion aside. He had released it last night and now he was determined to move on and see it through. He was used to burying emotion and keeping it all to himself. Of course now he could confide in Moira and that made the burden less, somehow.
Marines were deferential and scientists made way for him as he strode down the corridors. He reached the mess hall and quickly grabbed some food. He sat at the nearest table and ate, abruptly ravenous. Eggs and bacon and coffee had never tasted so good.
"Hey."
John looked up to see Rodney joining him. For once the physicist's plate was not fuller than John's. "Hey."
Rodney looked round. He appeared weary, as if he hadn't slept much. His hair was disordered and his blue shirt was wrinkled. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess. You?"
"The same. How's Moira?"
John smiled briefly. "Asleep. She's fine. I really should kill you for bringing her along."
"That wasn't my idea! That was all hers, John! And I did warn her that you'd want to kill me."
"You should have listened," John noted around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Rodney shrugged. "You try arguing with her."
John snorted. "Yeah…I know."
"John. Rodney." Carson joined them. He set down his tray. "How are you feeling, colonel?" The doctor eyed the quantity of food on his patient's tray but said nothing.
"Better. More like myself, doc. Thanks."
"Stop by the infirmary later, colonel. I want to run some tests just to be sure. Your metabolism may still be out of whack."
"Is that a medical term, doc?"
"I think we're all out of whack," Rodney noted sadly. He rubbed his eyes.
John looked round the mess hall. He spotted Teyla with Amelia and a group of women. He spotted other groups. "You get the feeling we're being avoided? Well, me at least?"
"It's only to be expected, John. After everything."
"Including the thing we're not mentioning, yeah," John agreed quietly.
Silence devolved onto the table and the men as they ate.
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Moira woke.
She sat up in the bed, startled until memory surfaced. She looked round the familiar confines of John's room. She frowned. She wondered if any of her clothes or other possessions were still in her old room. She slid out of the bed and looked round. It was a relief to find her clothes in the closet and she wondered when John had moved them.
Quickly she showered and dressed, gathering her items together and trying to arrange them. It was awkward not knowing if she was going to live here or in another room or somewhere else entirely. She realized that most of her things on Echo Base were probably destroyed.
She felt like a refugee in the city.
Unwilling to leave the room she nibbled on a power bar and began to work on her data pad. Luckily she had saved all of her research there and it kept her mind off more pressing concerns and worries.
There was a lot of data to collate and it would keep her busy for hours, safely in the room and away from hostile scrutiny.
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John reclined uncomfortably in a chair in Richard's office. He shifted this way and that. It wasn't the furniture that had him on edge, however. "So…where are we?"
Richard Woolsey set aside his data pad. He folded his hands on the desk and met the military commander's gaze. "In a word…safe. The Fugly threat has been eliminated. The Wraith threat has been eliminated. The queen is gone and the location of Atlantis remains our secret."
"Except for those Darts and escape pods," John noted. "How much you wanna bet Todd was in one them?"
"I certainly wouldn't put it past him," Richard agreed.
"He doesn't know the location of Atlantis," John assured. "And now there's a huge power vacuum in Wraith society."
"What do you think will happen?" Richard asked, curious.
John considered a moment. "They'll splinter off into groups of Hives, like before. Some might try to unite them but none will be as powerful as she was." A shudder came and went. "The Wraith are weakened now. We could pick them off one by one."
"Or let things settle down first. We need to repair our fractured alliances. The Tria needs more repairs but should be a serviceable ship now and will limit our reliance on the Asgard ships. The Stargate is in working order."
John nodded. "That just leaves…"
"Yes." Richard removed his glasses, restored them after a moment. "We are going to hold a ceremonial funeral this afternoon. Not just for Ronon, but for all that we lost. The eight scientists from Echo Base and the airman who was killed by an explosion on the Tria will be mourned as well. I hope you will attend and speak, if you're feeling up to it, John. They need to hear from you."
"I know." John rubbed his brow. "We could almost call this a win…except…"
"Yes. I am so sorry, John."
John moved to his feet. "Yeah. Me too."
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"I need sex."
Moira almost dropped her data pad. She set it on the table, turning in the chair as John entered the room. Her brown eyes were wide and she stared at him. "John?"
He walked over to her, a sexy swagger that accentuated his long, lean body. He glanced at the data pad before meeting her gaze. He licked his lips. Her surprise was almost comical. "You heard. You can't hide in here all day, baby. I need you out there with me. In two hours. But first I need sex."
"Two hours? Oh…a memorial service?"
"Yeah." He clasped her arms and gently pulled her to her feet. "So?"
Moira slid her hands along his chest. "Are you up for it? I mean are you…John!" she scolded as his smirk grew. "You know what I mean!"
"Hell yeah, baby. You better believe I'm up for it." He kissed her. "Moira…Moira, we gotta do this now because after the service I intend to get piss-faced drunk."
"All right, John. When you put it like that how can a girl resist?" she teased, returning his kisses and touches with ardent abandon.
John chuckled as he guided her to the bed.
