Stargate Atlantis: S7—A Gilded Cage4
The sun was hot. It beat down mercilessly, forcing John to adjust his sunglasses to protect his eyes. He was sitting on the beach, staring out at a brilliant turquoise ocean. Beads of sweat rolled along his bare chest and back. The sun was warm. He blinked against the glare to watch the whitecaps shining brightly as a wave crested and crashed.
The tang of sea salt was riveting. He glanced at his surfboard, perched in the sand behind him and giving him a modicum of shade from the harsh sunlight. The cry of seagulls rent the air. John flexed his arms, relaxed and peaceful. The red towel beneath him was warm and comfortable.
It was beautiful out here. It was the perfect beach on a perfect day. There was just enough of a warm breeze to muss his hair and play with the ocean waves, but not too much as to presage a storm. The horizon stretched for miles and miles, drowning the blue sky into the blue sea.
He smiled as a woman entered his line of vision. She was walking along the shore. She was clad in a violet bikini and a sheer white coverup that didn't cover much. Her long hair billowed around her, falling in sumptuous waves to her elbows. She turned and headed for him, a smile on her face.
John
He raised his hand, needlessly as he was the only one on the beach. He smirked and glanced to his right where a red cooler sat. It was open to reveal beer cans amid the melting ice. He started to reach for one, but drew back as the woman's shadow fell across him.
John
He let his gaze slowly travel up the woman's body, along her fair skin, along the curves of hips and breasts, up to her smiling face. "Moira," he said quietly, but a whisper of doubt caused him to hesitate. There was something off about her appearance and he couldn't put his finger on it. She was almost too pretty, which didn't make any sense and he wondered why that thought had arisen in his mind.
"Weren't you going to ride the waves?" she asked. Her voice was soft and sultry, and didn't sound quite right somehow.
John was too busy raking his gaze along her body again to reply. He had always found her body distracting and today was no exception. Finally he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze but she was cast in shadows. He shrugged and lazily replied, "Maybe later…right now I think I want to—"
John this isn't real
"—just enjoy the view, baby, if you know what I mean. This is exactly how I pictured our honeymoon. Exactly. Not on that damn iceberg! You should just—"
John you know this isn't real
John stopped talking and turned at the persistent voice. He stared. In the distance he could see Moira. It was snowing where she was and she was clad in a white lab coat that flapped around her clothes. It was his Moira, as she really looked, not this other idealized version who was with him on the beach. On a beach which neither Moira nor he had ever visited, not in real life anyway. There had been no honeymoon, except a snatched week on that frozen planet. "Moy?"
"I'm right here, John. Now, come, what do you want to do?" she asked, taking his hand as she sat next to him. Her touch was warm, almost too warm.
John glanced at her, uncertain. Her brown eyes were quizzical. He frowned. That wasn't right. One of her eyes was different somehow, although at the moment he couldn't quite remember. "I was gonna suggest we—"
You know this isn't real, John. Fight it. You have to fight it. Don't tell. Don't tell.
"—go back up to the hotel room and test out the bed for any…" John paused. He glanced down at her hand on his. Had her nails always been so very sharp and so very long?
John looked back at the other Moira. She was even farther away now, lost in the snow. There was a beseeching expression on her face. His mind rebelled. She couldn't be here. She had been killed on Earth, right after they had been married. He moved to his feet suddenly and took a few steps towards her. The sand squelched beneath his bare toes.
There was another memory surfacing, one buried deep. One wherein he had been with Moira on a frozen planet and they had enjoyed a brief honeymoon before something terrible had happened. Something violent that had separated them and now he was here. Not here but somewhere else.
He was on Atlantis, of course, where he belonged.
He was on the bridge of the Tria, eliminating the threat of the Fuglies.
He was on that frozen world and it was under attack. Darts were flying and the scientists were rushing, rushing towards the Stargate and Moira was in harm's way she was in harm's way and he shouted to warn her to
He was on Earth and the car swerved quickly too quickly and he lunged too late as Moira was hit and violently flung from his arms from his life from his
He was in a Wraith cell being held by a parody of Elizabeth Weir and he would die before revealing the location of Atlantis and the
He was on the beach. It was hot, so hot but the sun's heat felt good on his bare skin. He could taste the ocean on the air and his surfboard was tantalizingly close, ready to be deployed. John grabbed a beer and sipped the amber liquid. It was ice cold and slithered down his throat. He swallowed, licked his lips and set the beer can into the cooler.
He idly scratched at his chest where an itch was crawling along his skin. He scratched at the coarse chest hair and the tender skin underneath it. He could feel the sweat trailing along his skin. Inexplicably he felt a shiver.
"Moira? Moira, you ready, baby? I can teach you how to ride the waves." He looked round but he was alone. "Moira?"
"John? John, what is it? What do you see? What are you hiding from me?"
He turned and there she was, smiling and beautiful and almost scary as this wasn't the real her but some odd idealized version, as if this was how his heart saw her. It was a ridiculously romantic notion and he snorted at the idea. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that! Let's hit the waves, baby and then we can—"
It isn't real John. None of this is real. You must fight it. Fight it. Fight it. Don't tell. Don't tell.
"Moira?" He turned again and there was his Moira, standing in the snow and fading from his vision as the snowfall swallowed her. "Moira, wait! Moira!" He tried to rush to her but the sand was swallowing his feet and the other Moira, the one that couldn't possibly be his Moira was grabbing his arm and trying to restrain him.
Her hold was surprisingly strong.
The other memory was surfacing and he fought to bury it, suddenly feeling a panic that if this was revealed he might reveal other things. He felt as if everything was about to spill out of him, and if it started it would never stop never stop never stop.
"What is it, John? What are you hiding from me? John? John?"
John, you know none of this real. Don't remember, John. Fight fight fight
John bucked. He was gasping for air and struggled, struggled like a drowning man. His arms flailed and his legs kicked but all was darkness and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear except for that small voice, that small voice that sounded like Moira but was really his own voice telling him to resist, to fight, to conceal at all costs.
XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX
"He is strong. Somehow he is resisting." Todd's voice was full of reluctant admiration. He knew John Sheppard was strong and stubborn, but this defiance was impressive. Especially in the face of a Wraith queen whose powers were beyond any male Wraith.
The queen hissed and withdrew her hand at Todd's words. John was sprawled on the bed, being held down by Wraith drones until he collapsed. The queen waved her hand and the Wraith withdrew. The room was oddly quiet except for heavy rasp of John's breathing.
Todd shook his head. He would have preferred this human to be held in a proper cell, not this fancy room, but he dare not gainsay the queen. She had her own reasons, whatever they were. Todd was not privy to them. One did not question the orders of a queen. "Did you learn anything, my queen?"
The queen hissed again and met his gaze. "No. He is hiding something…but his resistance is remarkable. I should be able to rip it from his mind, but something is preventing me." She looked back at the now inert form of the military commander of Atlantis. "I do not wish to irreparably damage him." She stroked his dark hair. It was an oddly human gesture.
"There are methods," Todd suggested.
"Those methods would break his mind…render him a feeble-witted fool. Those methods would strip him of what makes him John Sheppard."
"And would that be a terrible outcome?"
"Yes!"
"Even if we gain what we needed?" Todd argued, daring to challenge the queen. He felt a pressure between his eyes and grunted, lowering his gaze as she pushed him with her mind to acquiesce, to obey. Like every Wraith he was born and bred to obey a queen and could not resist her power for long.
"If we rip out what makes him John Sheppard we will learn nothing! Those methods shall not be employed! Is that understood?"
"Yes, my queen!" Todd fought the urge to move to his knees. He bowed. He felt ill at ease. He worried that the emotions of the real Elizabeth Weir might leak through and compromise the queen. The last thing they needed was a queen who had feelings for this man. The last thing they needed was a queen tainted by very human emotions. It would be a disaster! "Do you think he lied about the location of Atlantis?"
"No. He fought to reveal that but in the end he broke. Whatever this other thing is, he will break too, in time." She moved to her feet. It was a graceful motion and her dark skirts folded around her. "See that he is well tended and restored. I want him to witness the destruction of Atlantis. It is a destruction that he made possible." She headed for the door, paused. "And Todd? No harm comes to him until I say so. Is that understood?"
Todd bowed. "Yes, my queen. It will be as you wish."
"It had better." She cast one more look towards the inert form of the military commander. Her yellow eyes had almost a trace of compassion. Almost. "He is still of use to us."
Todd nodded his assent, but he wondered if Sheppard were of use to the Wraith, or just to the queen.