Adaptation3

Evan stared round the deserted bio lab. Pulled up a chair and sat. Slouched. Shook his head. "I couldn't believe it. When Moira told me. About that Atlantis. What kind of an Atlantis must that be? I can't imagine it! At war with an ATA endowed Wraith and–"

"Full military?" Rodney asked, pulling up a chair to sit. Tapping his foot on the floor. A repetitive staccato noise that caused Carson to glare at his friend. "How could they even run the city without scientists or civilians? I mean, I was there, but even I can't do everything or be everywhere at once! Where was Elizabeth, or Radek?"

"Probably sent to the other sites for safety," Evan assumed. "Evacuate all civilian personnel except those necessary for the city's defenses," he cited.

"I can't believe they didn't make it..." Carson pulled up a chair, joining them. "I mean their Moira and their Evan. That poor lass...that poor..." He dabbed at his eyes.

"And what about their version of John?" Rodney inquired. "Surely he wasn't that different."

Evan shook his head. "Oh, he was. At least that was what Moira said."

"Of course he was! After losing Moira and having her die in his arms! My God, man, what do you expect but that he would be–"

"Carson!" Evan warned, gesturing. His forefinger across his throat. For silence.

"What? What the devil are you oh." Carson heard the distinctive stomping of John's boots on the floor and nodded. "So, colonel, what do you think Moira wants?" he asked.

John eyed them. Scowling, guessing the conversation he had ended. He grabbed a chair, sat. "I don't know. I'll tell you one thing, though. We are not talking about this. About that other Atlantis. I don't care what Moira has planned. Understood?"

"Only in general terms," Moira conceded, joining them. She closed the doors, wheeled over a cart containing three cartons of beer. "We need this. Well, you all seem to need this," she corrected as the men's gazes devoured the sight. "Like before. No, sit." She stopped them as they half rose from their seats. She handed Evan a beer.

He smiled, took it. "Thanks, Moira. Does this mean the singing re-match is on?"

"God, no!" Rodney moaned. "I'm not getting drunk like that again!" Nevertheless he took the beer she offered him. She handed one to Carson.

"Thank you, love. I know I need this."

Moira handed one to John. He smiled, took it. Let his fingers skip along hers. "Just the thing, Moira. But I meant what I said. We are not discussing that other Atlantis. Or its personnel."

"Whatever, John." As the men laughed, began to imbibe the liquor in hearty swallows she considered how to proceed.

"Moira." John patted his thighs, a clear invitation for her to sit on his lap, like she had the first time they had met like this. In a group after a crisis to relax, review, and blow off steam.

Moira ignored him. Pulled up a chair next to his and sat. Could feel his disgruntled disappointment but turned to Rodney. "Rodney," she began, "you had a question about the light anomaly?"

"Oh, yes, I did," he agreed. Downing the beer with long swallows.

She waited. Waited. "And?" she finally prompted. The men grinned.

"Oh! Right! The anomaly! The light anomaly. John didn't describe it very well, says he didn't see it or some such nonsense. I need to know if it appeared the same going as it did coming back. The lights, the distortions."

Moira considered. "It was very quick, but...yes. It was a little different coming back than going. There were red flashes that I didn't see before when we first triggered it. An almost solid wave of flickering light. Is that significant?"

"Could be," Rodney noted.

"Rodney, would this particular anomaly take us to the same alternate reality each time?" she asked.

John frowned. "We're never going back there," he stated. He touched her arm briefly, for emphasis. "Don't tell me you want to go back there to–"

"No, no, I was just asking, that's all," she hastily assured. Drew away from his touch. "I meant theoretically," she added.

"Theoretically? No. It could open up at a number of realities...unless, of course, you had the exact equations of that reality to trigger the anomaly. Otherwise the multi-verse is vast," he enthused, starting on his second beer like the rest. "There could be any number of realities. Different versions of Atlantis, of us. There's no telling where we could end up if we triggered the anomaly without the proper equations and frequencies."

"Not a problem. We're never going to trigger it," John vowed. "So...theoretically we could find another Atlantis, a different one. Nicer. Friendlier. With everyone there."

"Yes, that's what I said," Rodney sighed. "Theoretically there could be multiple versions of the city, of us...different but the same. What part didn't you understand, John?"

"I think Colonel Sheppard means there could be an infinite number of Moiras out there," Evan posited, glancing at John who was downing his beer.

"Yeah. Another version, in another version of here..." John drawled. Grabbed another beer. "'Cause you know what I'm thinking." He smiled. The men shared smiles.

"What? What is he thinking?" asked Moira, mystified. She eyed the men.

"Twins," Carson answered. Laughter ensued.

Moira stared, then sighed, rolled her eyes. "Men!" she complained, causing more laughter. More drinking as cans were handed round.

"You know what was interesting?" John said, lazily relaxing at last as he slouched in the chair. "What was interesting were the ships. The combination of our Jumpers and the Wraith's Vipers. Flew like a dream."

"What? A complete system interface?" asked Rodney.

"Complete. The one we flew was a dream," John repeated. "Almost everything was automated, even the support systems. Mostly by sheer thought, like an accelerated Ancient tech device. That baby flew smooth as silk but could accelerate on a dime. It even had Wraith culling beams, but altered by Asgard tech."

"What about weapons, sir?" asked Evan.

"Ah," John smiled, warming to the subject. "You wouldn't believe it, major! You saw the damage our Jumper sustained. As well as drones it had concussion missiles and Wraith laser beams that could target specific systems on the other ship! Plus I'd bet money it had a fully functional missile launch tube, but I didn't have a chance to use it. And it must have had hyperdrive capabilities too."

"No no no no no no," Rodney disagreed in a rush, waving his hand clumsily. "I doubt it. Even with a limited interface of both Asgard and Wraith technology there's no way a ship of that size could house a hyperdrive unit, much less manage to generate enough power to open a wormhole. It would burn out its generators."

"How were the drive pods?" asked Evan.

"Missing. No, it's true!" John exclaimed to Evan's disbelief. He pointed. "The whole design was slick, streamlined. Could easily fit into a Stargate and never get stuck, like ours did. And the underbelly had a harder–"

"Enough about the bloody ships, colonel!" Carson interjected. "What about these altered Wraith? You said they had the ATA gene." He looked at Moira suddenly. "Oh! Sorry, love!"

"The ones that lived," Moira answered. "They were able to access all Lantean technology and were winning the war. Getting closer to Atlantis. I believe that the ATA gene in the human DNA strands bound only too well, when it worked, better than the artificial gene, like you suggested, Carson. I was given the impression these Wraith had experimented even further."

"With the Hoffan serum?" Carson guessed.

"Yes. Yes! That's what John...I mean...the colonel said." Moira glanced at John as he scowled. But his expression softened seeing her distress. She looked back at Carson. "They weren't like the Wraith we know. Something more. More advanced...like that Atlantis was more advanced."

"A new evolution then. Interesting," Carson noted, rubbing his chin.

"Different Wraith for a different reality. That's a thought," Evan remarked. "And not a pleasant one." Silence. Each man brooding on his private thoughts.

Moira sighed. Her plan was suddenly backfiring. "I know a pleasant one," she stated. "We should have that singing re-match."

The men groaned in unison. She laughed as they reached for more beer. Exchanged pained expressions. "No way," Carson stated.

"Ah, Carson!" Moira pouted. "Why not? You were the best!" A nudge to her chair from John's foot made her add, "one of the best."

"Exactly, love. It wouldn't be a fair contest," Carson said. Serious. Laughter and snorts of derision followed his boast.

"I think we should," Evan agreed, smiling. "Because I can't believe in any universe that McKay sings better than I do!" Laughter.

"I do?" Rodney asked, as surprised as the rest. "Of course I do. I'm a scientist." He gestured with the beer in his hand. "I understand pitch, tone, harmony. All you understand is how to fire a gun." Laughter.

"But I know positioning, strategy, timing...not like a scientist." Laughter. "Right, colonel?"

"Don't bother to ask him," Carson retorted, "he didn't participate last time. And having heard him on the PA you really, really don't want to hear him sing. Trust me!"

"Carson! That's not fair! John can sing when he wants to sing," Moira protested, but glanced at John lest he object or become annoyed. "But he hardly ever does. Darth Spoilsport there isn't any fun," she added, trying to lighten the mood with gentle teasing.

"Hey!" John protested, gently kicking her chair again. Laughter.

"Too true, Moira," Evan sighed. "Lover boy there doesn't let us have any fun."

"Evan!" Moira warned, eyes widening. She glanced at John.

He smiled. Gestured with his beer. "That's Colonel Lover boy, major. And no, I do have fun. Moira, tell him I have fun. Or I did...I...shit..." he groused, frowning in confusion.

"You do, but we don't. Do you, Moira?" asked Rodney, not very clear.

"Do I?" she asked, not following.

"Yes, scientists do, Moira," Carson agreed.

"Hell no! Only I do Moira," John corrected. Laughter ensued. "Or I did..." He glanced at her. Uncertain. Uneasy. Mind fuddled by the alcohol.

"John!" Moira scolded, then looked away hearing his last words. Wondered if he had dumped her after all. She waited until the lewd laughter had subsided. Stood. "All right, boys. I think you've had more than enough for one night."

"Not nearly enough," John muttered.

"John, shut up!" She leaned over to grab the bottle from his hand. He raised his brow, glanced around her pointedly. She cursed, straightened, seeing where his gaze had wandered. All of the men were looking, then studiously examining the floor or their empty cans. "For crying out loud!" she complained. "Men!"

"Pert," John reiterated. Uproarious laughter filled the room.

"Fine, fine!" She grabbed the cans out of their hands one by one, set them aside. "Tonight's the night I shouldn't have let any of you have this much beer!

"It's gonna be all right," Carson sang, prompted by her words. The others joined in suddenly, as Carson led them. "'Cause I'm in love with you love ain't nobody gonna stop us now!"

Moira laughed, delighted, surprised.

"I got this!" Rodney exclaimed. He lurched to his feet, caught Moira's hand in his. Sang drunkenly, "Stay away from my window..." He sang the verses, voice in tune but slurring slightly as he swayed to the music playing in his head.

Evan stood, caught her hand and turned her to him. Continued, "Kick off your shoes and sit right down..." He sang the verses between hiccups, a grin on his face. As he reached the chorus they all joined in loudly.

"Tonight's the night..." They sang in close harmony, but loudly and drunkenly. Charmingly swaying in time to the words, to the music as all knew the song, the melody.

Moira grinned, trying not to laugh. She freed her hands but John stood, caught her. Spun her round to face him. Sang the next verse. "Come on angel, my heart's on fire..." His fine voice only strayed off-key a little as he sang the words. His husky voice added a sensuality that made her tense, tighten.

As he reached the chorus they all sang, "Tonight's the night..." They swayed, sang, hummed the musical interlude. Beating the time on their thighs, with their feet on the floor.

Moira stared at John, completely enchanted. But she found herself spun again as Carson caught her elbow. Turned her to him.

"Don't say a word, my virgin child..." he sang. The verses flowing melodically from his lips, the Scottish accent stronger. As he reached the chorus they all joined in again.

"Tonight's the night!" they sang, more off-key now and loud. Plopping down in their chairs. Finishing with a flourish. They drunkenly repeated it, no longer in time with each other or in tune.

Elizabeth walked into the lab. She smirked, shook her head. "Another party, gentlemen?"

Silence. All voices halted. A burp. Moira turned, colored. "Uh, uh, Doctor Weir...the, the boys were just blowing off some steam, is all. I mean, we were just relaxing after the debrief."

"I see that, Moira. And you got them to sing again. I am impressed."

"Well..." Rodney stood. Swayed. "That does it for me. Goodnight. I've got to call on a very, very beautiful botanist. If you'll excuse me excuse me...." he rambled. Headed out of the lab.

Carson stood. "It's been a fine night, lads!" He touched Moira's arm. "I'm so glad you're back, love, and safe with us. And not harmed. Oh, and you too, Evan."

"Thanks, doc. Appreciate the concern," Evan noted. Moved to his feet.

"Concern? Over what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Vampire rabbits," Evan supplied. The men laughed.

"Seriously, Moira..." Carson paused, emotional. "Seriously...you...you're here. I'm glad. And you," he pointed a finger at John, "remember what I said earlier! I mean it, John. I do!" He wrapped his arm around Evan's shoulders. "Now my fine lad, I am glad you are here with us as well. You know, I knew a man named Ivan in medical school and he was–"

"My name's Evan so I hardly see how that is relevant to any–" Evan objected as the two men left the lab.

"Colonel...you seem to have imbibed with the rest this time," Elizabeth noted. Hands on her hips as she surveyed her military commander.

John shrugged. "Only a little, Elizabeths." His gaze moved to Moira. She was busily cleaning up the mess. Gathering the several empty cans into a trash can that was rapidly overflowing. "We're going to bed now," he assured. Smiled.

"I hope so, John. Moira, I want to see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Moira set the trash can onto the floor. Softly swore as Elizabeth exited. "Great. Just great. I know what that means. She's going to ream my ass for this," she realized.

John smiled, stood. Moved to touch her back. "The only one who will ream that pert little ass is me, baby. No...wait...that's not the word, is it? What is the word?"

"John." She took his hand. "Let's get you to bed, colonel."

"That sounds like a plan, baby. A plan. Hey, Moira!" he suddenly exclaimed as she led him out of the lab. "Why wouldn't you sit on my lap? I wanted that pert little ass on my lap. I want it, baby. I want it."

"Shut up, John. Here." She slid her arm around his waist, guiding him as he swayed.

He pulled her against him. "Seriously, sheriously, Moira, why? Why?"

"Quiet, John. Boy you are going to be in a bad mood tomorrow," she rued.

"Me? Nah. Tonight. Tonight's the night!" he sang loudly, laughed.

"Ssh! Come on!" she scolded, but smiled.

"Relax, baby...spread your legs and let me come inside 'cause..." he sang, garbling the words.

"Ssh!" She pulled him into his room. Guided him to the bed and pushed him onto it. He fell backwards, laughed as he sprawled, scooted up to the pillows. "John, you–"

"Your bed is better, Moira. Damn it. Only I do Moira. Right? Me! Or that fucking alternate me, but still me. Right? Fuck, the ceiling's spinning. Guess I did have one too many, huh?"

"Brilliant deduction, John." She sat near, touched his arm. Oddly serious as he blearily eyed her.

"John...I, I just realized...and I wanted you to know."

"Realized? What? Moira?" He shifted, about to sit but changed his mind, watched her. Tried to clear the buzz in his head. Tensing slightly. "Look, um, I know we, um, that is, I–"

"No." She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "John, I want you to know. You'll never be him. Never become him." She freed his lips.

"I...oh. Oh." He scowled. "I hope to God I don't, for your sake, Moira."

"Exactly," she agreed. Finger playing along his bare arm now. Soothing touches.

"What?" He stared at her, drawn by her words, by the sorrow in her brown eyes. By her caresses on his arm.

"You won't. I didn't realize it before, all of the trauma, the, the stress blinded me. The emotion...but I want you to know this, John...no matter what, what happens between us, or not, or...anyway, you won't. It's not in you."

"It is," he disagreed. "Just buried deep. A shadow...a..." He licked his lips. Wishing he had another beer suddenly. As the conversation verged on dangerous territory.

"No. You're not him, John. He..." She had to look away, towards the familiar surroundings of his room. Touches of his personality. "He despised weakness. The weakness in her. In himself maybe too, for her weakness, for even needing her. You're not like that. When I...when I was falling apart, when I shatter you're there. You were there to hold me, to mend me...you never despised me or hated me when I was weak or broken. But he did. He did hate her, resented her."

John caught her hand, halting her caresses. "I couldn't hate you, Moira. Ever. Not even now, not even knowing what you..." He sighed. "I would certainly never break you. You needed me to be there and I was. I'll always be there for you, sweetheart, I..." His words faltered.

Moira felt tears. "Will you, John? No, don't answer that, I know." She touched his lips again.

"Don't. Not now. Not yet. Just know that you are not the same, John. Not the same as him. You might have a bad day but you'll never go dark side. I'm sorry, I was too upset to see it before now and then you...well, I..."

"Moira," he said, but her fingers slipped from his. He closed his eyes. "Fuck. We really can't do this now, I mean, I'm drunk and can't think clearly. Okay?"

"Okay, John. It's...it's done, anyway, I guess. I..." She sighed, looked around. Loathe to leave. Uncertain as to whether or not to stay. "John?" She looked at him. He was asleep. Snoring softly, his breath fluttering in and out. Limbs flung in every direction along the bed. Head turned to one side. Long lashes sweeping darkly against his skin. The slightest shadow of scruff lining his jaw, his chin. Full, luscious lips at rest, slightly parted. Formed in a perfect Cupid's bow of temptation. Enticement. Dark hair mussed in every direction.

She smiled, but sadness lingered. At the strange tenor of the emotion. The finality, yet here she was, sitting on his bed and he hadn't objected. She stretched out next to him, cuddling against him. Hand on his chest. Needing to feel him. The warmth, the solidity of his body, his affection. She closed her eyes, relaxing. Intending only to stay for a little while. Just a little while.