Fixed Action Pattern6

Moira kissed him. Soft, gentle kisses to comfort. To console. To soothe him with her love. "Here, John." She guided him down to rest his head on her lap, on the blankets. She stroked his disordered hair, his temples. Softly kissed him. "I don't know, sweetie. We will figure it out, don't you worry. Look, John, you might want to consider talking to um, Heightmeyer, or–"

"No. I'm talking to you, Moira. The last thing I need is for it to get around that the military commander of Atlantis is losing his fucking mind," he protested wearily.

"You're not losing your mind, John. Not at all. You've set up those contingency plans, colonel?"

"Yes."

"All right. If this does actually happen we will be forewarned and able to prevent it, won't we? What if, however, this is something else?"

"It's not a manifestation of some deeper, darker turmoil, Moira. We've discussed this."

"Have we, John? Have we really?" she challenged. "Sweetie, there's obviously something wrong. Beyond the concerns and all of the stress, the worries, the changes we'll be facing when the baby comes."

He closed his eyes. Her caresses soothing. Comforting. Her voice alluring, full of love. Love for him and only him. But he disliked her words. "No. There's nothing beyond that, Moy," he refuted stubbornly. Frowning.

She sighed. "There must be, sweetie. Think. You can tell me anything, sweetie. Any little thing. I love you, John. All of you. Even the darkness."

"There's nothing," he repeated sullenly. Sulking. "I've never been happier, damn it! I have you. I have your love. All of it. I have the most exuberant, pleasurable sex with you. I have John junior on the way. My son. I have...I have everything."

"Yes. So why do you keep having the nightmare of losing everything?"

He opened his eyes, met her serious, thoughtful gaze. "How the hell should I know?"

"You do know." She gently tapped his brow. "The answer is in there, John."

He smiled. "Are you sure it's not down here, baby?" He drew her hand to his crotch.

"This is serious, John."

"I know. Sex will make me feel better, baby," he insisted. Guiding her fingers along the length of him.

"Stop deflecting, sweetie. Think. That's it, isn't it?"

"What? What's it?"

She stared at him. "It's because you have everything. Because you once had everything before and lost it. Didn't you? More than once," she realized. Reasoned.

He frowned. "No. I never had this. This much. You."

"So much more to lose then? Come on, John. Think! Talk to me. We can talk about anything."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me and just fuck me, baby, please," he argued. Drew her down into a lengthy kiss. Fingers tangling in her hair. Freeing her other hand to reach up, to fondle a breast.

She straightened. Freed his cock as she gently moved his hand off her. "John, we need to figure this out. Although I think we have, sweetie. Because of what happened before. I can understand that all too well, John. You had everything."

"No! Not like I have now, Moira! No."

"It's all right, John. I won't get upset or angry. Just be honest with me. Like you always are. You had everything. When you were a kid. Until you lost your mother." Her voice was soft, so gentle. John turned onto his side, head still on her lap. Staring at nothing. Her fingers were still caressing his hair. "You had everything again. A beautiful wife. Your family. Your job which you excelled at, I'm sure. Maybe you were even planning to have a baby?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Oh. Well, still...you had all of that," she resumed, wondering at his answer. "And then...Afghanistan. I'm guessing that's when things unraveled. You lost it all, John. Just when you were happy."

"No. I wasn't happy, Moy. I was just...content. I guess. But yes. That's when it all..."

"I know, John. What it's like to have everything. To lose it. But it's different, I know. For you. But it's worse now."

"Worse? It's better, Moy! So much better, Moira!" He sat suddenly, touched her arm. "You are everything to me!"

She smiled for a moment. "I mean it's worse because it's been so abrupt, so unexpected. Face it, John, this is the last thing you ever expected, or even wanted."

"No!" he argued. "I do want–"

"Let me finish, sweetie. You didn't want all of this. You weren't even looking for it. You tried to get out of this, remember? You broke up with me," she reminded.

"And every second was miserable, Moy," he refuted.

"Yes, it was," she agreed. "But things escalated. Faster and further than you'd expected. Then I expected. You found yourself involved with me, very involved. In love. Then boom! Abruptly married again. Then boom! Over six months later you have a child on the way. Suddenly the stakes kept getting higher and higher."

"I wouldn't change a thing, Moy," he insisted. "Not a single thing."

She smiled. "Come on, sweetie. You know deep down you are still reeling from all of this."

"Are you?" he inquired. He touched her thigh.

"It's different for me."

"How so?"

"We're talking about you, John," she evaded. "You're the one having the nightmare. Not me. It's all right, John. You can tell me the truth. You need to tell yourself the truth. This isn't what you wanted," she insisted, pushing him. Prodding him.

He looked away from her, silent. Brooding. "You want the truth, Moy?" he asked at last. Voice quiet, solemn. "You're right. Fuck. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be in a relationship, some long-term relationship. I never wanted to fall in love, so fucking in love I couldn't see straight. Still can't. I never wanted such exuberant, passionate sex. Okay, I did want that, but not the rest. Not all the romantic crap. I did want the love, though. I never wanted a wife. There was no way in hell I was ever going to be married again. And a kid? No way! Not John Sheppard. Who has time for a kid? Then I met you, Moy." He glanced at her.

Moira was watching him, love and sympathy in her brown eyes. She shrugged. "Sorry, John."

He smiled. "Sorry? That's it? You completely turned my life upside down, Moy. Like I did to you. The truth is I've never been happier. Never. I have everything, more than I ever hoped to have, or even imagined. Or wanted. Until I had it. So much more than before, you can't even imagine what's it like to have so much..." He looked away from her. "Maybe you can. And that, that scares the hell out of me, Moy. No. What scares me is that I could lose it. All of it. I will lose everything. I always do. And if I lost you, John junior...I don't think I could go on. How did you? When you lost what's his name? James. How did you go on?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because I think, I know, conceited as this may sound, if you lost me you couldn't go on either. Except for John junior. If I lost you and John junior I just...I don't want to go through that. I don't want you to go through that if one of these times I go through the 'Gate and don't come back. Or come back in a body bag. But I can't let you go, Moy. I tried. But...what we have is so precious, so real. We connect on every level. And the sex...so fucking sweet and wild. You know what I mean. And the darkness. You know. You're the only one, Moy. And now John junior. I can't even begin to tell you how that makes me feel...you..." He spluttered, throat raw with emotion. Dry. Words spilling out of him, unable to stop.

Moira stared. Startled by his unusual verbosity. His honesty. Listening to every word, every nuance, every emotion. She caressed his back, silent. Forcing back her tears. Overwhelmed by his love, his absolute trust in her. "John..." she whispered.

John licked his lips. "Look, Moy, I'm not good at this. You know that. But we can't live like that. We can't live in the shadows of fear and loss. That's not living. Fuck, I need a beer!" He slipped off the bed, headed for the door.

"John!" she called. "Fridge!" She pointed to his room.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Brilliant, Moy!" He headed for his room. Grabbed a beer. His stomach growled. He grabbed a sandwich marked with a T. Grabbed another. "Hey, Moira, I'm getting a sandwich! Want anything?"

"No, I'm fine, John, thanks!" she called. Relaxing. Mulling over his words. Wiping her eyes.

John sat at the table in his room. In the dark. Devoured the two sandwiches. Drank the beer. Thoughts blocked at the moment as he took care of more immediate concerns. He knew Moira was waiting patiently for him. Was giving him the privacy he needed. Loved her for that. He looked round the room. He recalled her words about his autonomy. The room felt cold, sterile. Only held his belongings. His real life was in the other room. The room full of roses. Her things. Some of his, even. The bed they shared. The table where they ate, worked. Even had sex. Sheppard's delight.

He stood. Carried his beer to their room. Stood looking around. Moira was still sitting in the bed. She watched him.

"John?" she finally said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He moved to the bed, looked at her a moment. His expression unreadable in the darkness. She bit her lower lip, staring at him worriedly. He downed the rest of the beer. Set the bottle on the table. Got into bed and sat. Licked his lips. "I don't want it."

"Want what?" she asked, heart skipping a beat. Even after all of his avowals of love and happiness she still couldn't quite believe he loved her that much. Still wanted her, even with a baby on the way. Accepted all of her.

He met her gaze. "I don't want my autonomy any more. Remember, Moira? I want...my life is here, now. My heart is here. Here." He patted the bed, gestured around the room. "I want to be entwined with you completely. Our bodies, our lives, our stuff. I'm moving in, baby, with all of my crap so just deal with it."

She smiled. "Okay, John. Um, you do know you already live here, don't you? Sort of."

"No more sort of, baby. We're going to move things around. What did you say worked? Pizza and beer?"

"Like a dream, colonel," she asserted.

"All right, then." He looked around the room. Planning. "We'll convert my room to our work room. Our dining room. A nursery." He smiled. "Okay, Moira?"

"Okay, John. If that's what you want."

"It is. About time, huh?"

"I don't mind if you need your–"

"I do. Mind, that is." He looked at her. Sat close. Kissed her. Another kiss, gently moving her onto her back. "I want us completely entwined, Moira. I want to be in everything. Including you, baby."

She gently laughed. "Hilarious, John. You don't need–"

"I do. Need, that is. To be in you, baby...right now. No more talking, Moy. I hate talking. I do, however, love sex. Sex with my Moira."