An Eye for an Eye7
John stood in the hallway. He was silent. His brooding gaze was locked onto the carpet and he followed the swirling lines of gold in the crimson carpet. His hat was in his hands and he turned it round and round and round. Pains and soreness assailed him, but his physical discomfort was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He pursed his lips together, as if he could force down all the emotion threatening to surface and spill out of him.
Hearing a door open and close he turned quickly. He caught a glimpse of Moira on a bed. She was on her back, arms folded over her chest. John's heart lurched and darkness clouded his vision. He blinked back a wave of sorrow and guilt and dread, steeling himself as an older man approached, shaking his head.
"Doc?" he asked. His voice was unrecognizable and he wished that Carson was the man with him instead of this stranger.
"It's the damnedest thing, sheriff." The man was shaking his head. His white mustache fluttered to either side of his rosy face. "If not for this she would be dead right now."
"What?" The words were slow to register. John recalled the mad gallop out of the Barrens. He recalled cradling Moira in his arms as she had lost consciousness and John had been afraid it was too late, too late.
He stared in puzzlement as the doctor held up a corset. It was broken in the back, a few of the whalebone stays splintered and broken. John could see why as a bullet was lodged firmly between two of the stays, embedded in a third and trapped.
The doctor smiled at the lawman's slow comprehension. "If that bullet had swerved either way it would have hit her and more than likely killed her. As it is she's been bruised and battered but she will recover. The bullet to her side merely grazed her and she lost some blood, but a good meal and rest will put that right. Are you all right, sheriff?"
John blinked. He was still staring at the corset as the doctor's words worked their way through his anguish. The despair over having lost Moira was being replaced by relief, sheer relief and he fought the urge to clutch at the small silver cross he wore round his neck. He fought the urge to rush into that room to see her for himself. "I'm fine, doc. Thanks. She's…she's okay?"
"She will be fine but I suggest that she not travel for a few days. Are you sure you are all right? I could stitch up those scratches and—"
"No. Moira's alive and that's all that matters," John said, finally meeting the older man's gaze. He smirked, taking the corset from the doctor. "I should show her this."
"Keep it as a souvenir of incredible luck, or timing."
"Thanks, doc." John turned, watching the doctor head down the hallway. At the head of the stairs Ronon and Rodney stood waiting, trying to be supportive and out of the way at the same time. "She's fine. She'll be fine. She's alive and not too badly hurt." Saying the words brought a rush of relief and John smiled.
He looked down at the corset he was still holding and fingered the broken stays and the bullet still firmly lodged in them.
"John?"
John's smile broadened hearing the female voice. He turned to see Moira in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her hair was loose, billowing past her shoulders. She was cleaned up and the scent of flowers wafted to him. She wore a sleeveless gown that accentuated her curves and fell to her feet. "Moira." He headed for her.
Moira stepped back and watched him enter the room. He looked weary and sore but warmth shone from his green eyes. His clothes were dusty and dirty and stained with blood but to Moira he was impossibly handsome, as always. John shut the door. "Would you care to tell me why I am in a house of ill repute?" she asked tartly, hands on her hips.
He chuckled and set the corset aside, along with his hat. "It was the closest place from the Barrens," he explained. He stepped to her, gaze raking over her. He touched her cheek gently, careful of the bruises and cuts maligning her face. "I was…I was afeared I lost ya," he quietly confessed around the sudden lump in his throat. Suddenly he couldn't meet her gaze and let his eyes wander over the bodice of her gown.
Moira caught his hand in hers. "I feared the same, John. You…" Her brown eyes filled with tears and she hugged him. Emotions overpowered words and she clung to him, needing the feel of his warmth and strength and protection.
John held her close, not too tightly although he wanted to crush her to him. He kissed her brow as she hid her face against his chest. "Moira." His fingers slid delicately round to her back and down towards her rear.
She freed herself and touched his scratched face. "John, what happened to you out there?"
John kissed her. He kept kissing her, guiding her gently towards the bed. His hands ran carefully over her. She was warm, soft and yielding to him. She was alive and his and he would keep her safe from now on. "It doesn't matter, sweetheart."
"What? Of course it matters! John, what happened out there? Did you find those other creatures? Were they really from another planet? What happened to your face?"
"Doesn't matter, sweetheart," he repeated gruffly, moving to kiss her but she stopped him, stubborn.
"It does matter, damn it! John, tell me!" she insisted, pushing at him, angry at his reticence and stubbornness.
He swept her up into his arms, off her feet and she gasped in surprise. He smiled and set her gently onto the bed, following after with such passion in his green eyes it made her stare and forget all of her questions and concerns.
John silently vowed he would keep her safe. He vowed that no harm would ever come to her again.
He would keep her.
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Rodney sagged against the wall. He had been very worried about Moira, and seeing her alive, not only alive but on her feet gave him an enormous sense of relief. He glanced at Ronon who appeared relieved as well. The two men exchanged a glance and smiled.
Happy endings were rare out here. Both men intended to savor this one.
It had been a rough ride of the Barrens and across the snow to this place. It had been a mad dash to save Moira who had been clinging to life, or so it had seemed. Rodney forgot all about this scientific discoveries. Ronon wasn't bothered by the fact that they had left Acastus dead in the street, not mourned and unburied.
Sometimes a man should just be left right where he died, not mourned but forgotten.
Rodney coughed, uncomfortable. "I…um..that is to say I suppose we should be heading downstairs now?"
"Yeah, I guess," Ronon agreed, glancing down the hall at the closed door where the private reunion was taking place. A smirk crossed his face at the thought.
Both men began to head down the stairs. The plush carpet silenced their footsteps. Both were weary and cold but glad that their ordeal was over with, at least this part. There were still things out there in the night that had to be addressed, but not right now.
Even heroes could get a respite from danger now and then.
"So…do you suppose we could get a bite to eat?"
Ronon laughed and clapped the scientist on the back, nearly knocking him down the stairs. "All that and more, fancy man! All that and more, I dare say!"
The tittering laughter of women made Ronon grin and Rodney blush.
"I, I merely require some sustenance, that is all! I mean some food, a decent meal and a bed in which to take my ease, I mean in which to sleep in and oh bother!"
