Migration4
Moira sat back, checking her notes. "This is amazing, Peter! We've had actual tissue samples, actual DNA sequences from long-extinct species but this...this...we could re-write the entire genome of the mammalian tree of life!"
"Yes, we could!" Peter Harbison agreed with a smile. "This is groundbreaking! It's a shame we can't publish any of this. No one will ever know. It's not like we can show our work," the older man lamented. Sighed. Shook his head.
"Maybe some day. What a shame. We could have won a Nobel for this."
He laughed. "I believe so. Oh well, at least we have the pure scientific discovery. Maybe next time you can get some samples from the predators."
"That will prove to be tricky. It was difficult enough getting these." She turned to him. "What I really need to do is to stay there. We need to stay there for at least a month. To really study."
"I know. I've presented a proposal to Doctor Weir, and although she is sympathetic, well, let's face it, Moira. Our research is at the bottom of a very long totem pole."
She sighed. "I know." She turned back to the microscope. "Although, maybe I can hasten it up the pole a bit with what I am working on now. All of this protein research and the Wraith. I think I'm onto something but I need more time to develop it fully."
"Time away from this?" Peter asked, frowning.
"Afraid so." She shrugged. "Actually, I need whatever notes you have on the regenerative properties of the Wraith. Compared to examples of other species. The correlation between the renewing potential every living thing has and why the simpler animals retained it. When the more complex forms lost it."
"Except for the Wraith. What exactly are you looking for?" Peter asked, intrigued.
Moira shrugged. "I'm not sure. Yet. But I will be. These different Wraith...their evolution is vastly different from the Wraith here, and I don't think its all bio-engineered either. And speaking of the Wraith here we need to look at them differently. Not as monsters but as predators at the apex of the food chain. Their hive ships and their hibernation cycles, I believe, are linked to the vast migration across the galaxy, the enabling of prey cycles and the..." She paused.
John was lingering in the doorway. Staring at her. Listening to her every word. Following the curves of her body. Following the leaps her brilliant mind was making, the connections from several disciplines. He straightened, entered the bio lab. "Is this a new theory, Moira?"
She ignored him. Turned back to her microscope. "Let's see if we can isolate this further. Break down the subsequent species by classification to compose a more complete picture."
"Doctor Harbison, could you give us a moment?"
"Oh? Of course, colonel."
John waited until the biologist had left the room. He walked over to Moira. Waited, but she ignored him. Examined a slide. "Well? Moira? New theory? About the Wraith? That falls under my purview, you know. As do you."
"I'm not apologizing, John," she said stiffly.
"Okay. I'm not asking you to, sweetheart. You–"
"Don't you dare sweetheart me!" She still wouldn't look at him. "I know it wasn't entirely your fault but I am still furious! I had to vent! At you. But you deserved it! You and your wandering cock!"
"Moira! I never–"
"Oh, save it, flyboy, please! I know you are pissed you had to endure another Moira O'Meara storm but you deserved it. So did Rodney, Carson, and Evan! They should have had your back. They should have had mine. It was quite a shock, to see you...to see you like that...good God, John, of all the women in this fucking city did it have to be her? Oh, I know," she continued, before he could protest, "it wasn't your choice, your doing, even your inclination maybe but still, if you like her so much why did you ever end it with her in the first place?"
John tensed. Felt he was on the edge of a precipice. With Moira either waiting to push him over the edge or pull him to safety. "It ended. It was just sex. Didn't mean a thing."
She stared at the microscope. Unable, unwilling to look at him. "Oh."
"Oh? Yeah. Oh. And it's Sheppard. I endured another Moira Sheppard storm. And deserved every bit of it, I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I lost control of the situation, the party, the...I'd never hurt you, Moira. Never. I'll never hurt you like that, I swear."
She felt a surge of tears. Struggled to be calm. "But you did. You did. You always do...with, with her. Always with her," she whispered. He stepped closer to hear her. Touched her back but she stiffened. "No. I, I can't do this right now, John. Just go. Please, just go. I've got work to do. Important work. Just go."
"Never. Never, Moira." He caught her hands, turned to him but she wouldn't meet his gaze. "Moira, you can trust me. You can trust me completely. I swear. I love you, Moira. You. I don't want to lose an ounce of your trust, your love. Moy, don't you ever doubt me. Don't you ever doubt my love for you. My loyalty. You are everything to me, Moy, and I need you to never doubt that. To never doubt me. Moy, look at me. Moy."
She bit her lower lip. Finally met his gaze. His handsome face weary but solemn. Sincere. Brilliant green eyes full of love, of worry. Scruffy lower jaw and disordered hair making him all the more handsome, more vulnerable. Full lips luring her mouth to his. "I...I...I....can't, John. I don't. I don't doubt your, your love, your loyalty...your..."
"But you do. I can see that you do," he intoned quietly. Gaze locked with hers. Locked in those brown depths of tears, of sorrow, of anger. "Fuck. Don't, Moy. Don't you dare ever doubt the depth of my feelings for you. For us." He kissed her. A long, slow kiss making her mouth yield to his. Making a soft murmur in her throat. Making her fingers tighten on his. "Come with me, Moy. Now," he suggested into her ear. Kissing down her throat.
"John? I...I have work to do. We're on the verge of a...a...a...." she stammered softly. Uncertain. Captivated. Suspicious. Enamored. She felt tears.
"Can't you do that later, Moy? Hmm?" He kissed her again. "There's plenty of time for that. But this..." he wooed, kissing her. Hands freed hers to touch her sides, to caress, "this, though, is something we both need. Sweetheart. My Moira. Your John."
"I...um...what do you have in mind, John? Sex?"
He smiled at her hesitant tone. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Sex. Love. Sex. Or just a snuggle under a blanket. A nap. To be honest my head still hurts, and I could use a little wifely TLC, even though I don't deserve it."
"That's true," she agreed. But he pouted and she smiled. "John." She kissed him. Stood. Moved into his arms. "I can give you some TLC for a little while, but no sex. It's your own fault you feel like hell."
"Yeah, I know. Mea culpa." He drew back from her, but kept his arms around her. Pouted. Licked his lips, wetting his bottom lip. Gave her puppy dog eyes. "So? Moira?"
She sighed. "How can I resist, colonel? I can work on this later, I guess."
"Thank you, sweetheart." He kissed her. Took her hand, and led her out of the lab.
John removed his boots. Downed some aspirin, water. He laid back on their bed, flinging a heavy blanket over himself. He closed his eyes. Colors danced along his eyelids. His head pounded in time to them. He smiled as Moira joined him. Sat close. Began to gently massage his temples, his hair. She lightly kissed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. His throat. "Moira," he muttered, relaxing.
"Take it easy, John."
"Can I? Um, um, did I say anything, um, when I was drunk to upset you?"
"No. You sang."
"I did?"
"Loudly."
"Damn. I hate when I do that," he lamented. "Oh God...not over the PA again?"
Moira smiled at his tone. "No. You kept singing You're Having My Baby over and over."
John opened his eyes. "Shit. Are you kidding me? I'm sorry, Moira. Good God...I'm sorry! Of all the things I could sing to you I inflicted a Neil Sedaka tune on you? It's a wonder you haven't divorced me yet."
"John!" Moira laughed at his shocked consternation.
"I'm serious, Moira. I am so sorry, sweetheart! What else?"
"You said I had the most beautiful breasts you've ever seen."
"I did? Well, that's true, Moy. Very." He reached up to caress one.
"Yes, you went on and on and on about it. Them. About how many you've seen so you should know."
"I...oh..." he groaned. "Damn it," he regretted.
"Considering your expertise that was quite a compliment, colonel."
"Hilarious, Moira. Anything else I'll be sure to regret?"
"Just about the...um..." Moira looked from his warm gaze to the table. "If I have a, a baby. Your baby. Well, obviously yours."
"Crap. What did I say? Remember I was very drunk at the time, sweetheart."
"Nothing bad," she assured. Felt tears. "You, you admitted you weren't sure you were ready. I feel the same. Then you, you said you wanted me. Wanted me to be pregnant. You wanted me to have your, your son."
"I...oh...well, that's how I feel. How I really feel, Moy." He touched her cheek, turning her face to his. "I didn't want to tell you in case it upset you, put pressure on you. Or if you're not pregnant right now. But yes, either now or when it happens. When we decide to start a family. Yeah."
"And, and you wanted to name him John. John junior, but you didn't want to use your middle name. I tried to explain that it wouldn't be junior without your full name, but you insisted that since we are in a new galaxy new rules apply. You wanted me to choose a middle name but not some weird, unpronounceable Irish one."
"Oh." He smiled. "Well, yeah. Yeah, I do. Want that. John junior. But not my middle name. No fucking way will I inflict that on a kid. And no strange Irish ones either."
"John," she pouted. "I am going to find one you cannot pronounce or spell, just because you said that," she teased.
He smiled. "Hilarious, Moira. No. Are you all right? With all that, I mean?"
"Yes, John."
He drew her down to him. Kissed her. "Snuggle with me." He turned onto his side as she slipped under the blanket with him, nestled into him. He kissed her brow, her lips. Stroked her back. "My Moira...I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back, every bit of it, Moy. We'll be fine, if you are or your aren't. Either way we'll be fine. Don't you worry, baby."
Moira snuggled into his warmth, his love. Wishing she had his confidence, his surety. His strength. She gently caressed his arm, mulling over his words. His very real concern over having lost some of her trust. Some of her love. "Okay, John," she whispered.
"Moira...don't you ever doubt me, baby...never..." he muttered, falling asleep. Relaxing into the comfort of the bed. The comfort of her soft body pressed to his. The warmth. The love.
