Mimicry7

Moira yanked her hand free and stormed into her room. She whirled as he followed, wolf whistling, then laughing. "John! What the fuck was that?"

He grinned. Stood watching her. "What was what? Oh come on, baby, that was just a little teasing, daring seduction is all. Hmm? And what should I have said to Rodney? We just had hours and hours of sex?"

"You practically did!" she accused, hands on hips. Glaring.

"Did I? Well, it was quite the event, no, quite the events, right? Can't a man brag about a conquest? About multiple conquests? About continuous, orgasmic, mind-blowing sex to make the walls shake? Tell me, baby, did you break that pipe on the wall?"

"Shut up! God I hate you sometimes!"

"That means I did it right, then, didn't I? Exquisitely so, judging by your reaction. Here comes the melodrama again." He folded his arms across his chest. Waiting. Amused.

Moira was silent. She moved to the table. Glared at the roses. Finding this romantic gesture to be completely incongruous with his words now, his actions in the love nest.

He eyed her rear, the fall of her hair down her back. Moved to stand behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her into him. "Well? Wow...no melodrama? That's a first, baby...but you do hate me, right?" He kissed her throat. "Moira, what then? The sex? Tell me."

"Oh? We can talk now?" she acerbically asked.

"Yeah, now. Now that coitus is done...at the moment." He kissed her throat again. Hands caressing her hips. "Moira's kinky caramel delight...I loved every second and so did you, baby."

"I wish you'd stop talking about it," she complained. Uncertain.

"Why? I like talking about it. It will get us both off, won't it? Hmm...now what? Shower? Sex in a bed? Dinner?"

"Don't you have to face the music?" she asked, catching his hands before they wandered to her crotch.

"Yes. But I'd rather face you. Or this position is good too. Wasn't it, Moira? That pert little ass in the air."

"Damn it! Will you stop thinking below the belt for once!" she flared, whirling to face him.

He shrugged. "Okay. Well?"

She shoved past him, sat on the bed. "Go! Just go, will you? I can't talk to you when your libido is in overdrive!"

He laughed. "Is it? I'm always like this, Moira. And so was yours." He sat next to her. Laid back and sighed. "Ah...this bed. Well? Talk. I'm listening. Above the belt at the moment."

She shook her head. Turned to view him. Her gaze wandered over him. He was so handsome, so irritating. She sighed. Debated. Watching him scoot up to the pillows. Relaxing. She sighed again. Unable to resist. Unwilling. She laid next to him, nestled close. His arm slid round her waist, caressing her lower back. She moved her fingers along his chest. Felt the wedding ring under his shirt. "John..."

"Finally," he grumbled, but kissed her brow.

She felt a surge of tears, hid her face against him. "John," she whispered, her voice muffled. "I have a, I have a bad feeling about this. This mission. Tomorrow. You. Ford. Whoever set the trap. You're about to walk right into it!"

He kissed her brow, lifted her face to kiss her lips, her cheeks. Tasted tears. "Sweetheart, don't you worry. I'll be careful, I promise. I'm not leaving you, Moira. I'll come back to you, I promise. We haven't tested chocolate yet," he added to lighten the mood.

She smiled, but hit his chest. "Be serious, John! I....I know what I said before...in the debrief about Ford...but truthfully? Truthfully I don't think he can be, be saved. Brought back here. As much as you want to bring that lost lamb home and be a good shepherd you can't. You just can't, John, can't take the risk, but I know you will. I know you'll do all that you can to save him, even at the risk of your own life. But you, you can't." She scooted, propping herself up on her elbow to view his face. "John?"

He was staring at the ceiling. Met her gaze with a frown. "I know."

She waited, but he said nothing else. Resumed his stare at the ceiling. Fingers still playing gently on her lower back.

"John? I just...the way you...the sex...it was like...like you were...we were having all that sex in case, in case something happened...I mean...I wondered, I...like you were, in case, you know..."

He met her gaze again. Studied her. "No. It wasn't goodbye sex, or in case something happens to me we're going to fuck our brains out sex. It was just sex, Moira. Our exuberant, passionate desire given free reign in the sex room. Nothing else."

"Oh."

He touched her cheek. Drew her mouth to his for a lengthy kiss. "My Moira. I desire you, baby. As you desire me. In ways you may not be familiar with, but you will be, have no doubt. Now come here, sweetheart." He drew her down to him, rolled so she was beneath him. He slid his mouth over her cheek, jaw, up her throat to nibble her earlobe. "Moira," he said into her ear, his voice a low, possessive growl. "I'm just checking for caramel."

She smiled. "Oh John...you got all of it, I'm certain. Every last bit. Everywhere."

"I need to be absolutely sure, baby," he teased. "Better now? I'll make it all better, baby, I promise. And I promise I'll come back to you. Always. Don't you worry, sweetheart."

She kissed him. "Okay, John."

"Okay, Moira. Moira Sheppard," he said warmly. Shifting on her, getting comfortable. Sighed. Rolled off her and flung his arm over his closed eyes. "I wish we could stay here but we need to have dinner. I need to brief the men on this mission and go over all the specs, point by point."

"I need to put on a bra." She sat.

He lifted his arm, opened his eyes to meet her gaze, her serious tone making him smile. "Do you? Not on my account," he teased, eyes lowering. The green material clinging to every curve, every swell. He ran his fingers over a breast, hand cupping, thumb rubbing until the nipple hardened into the palm of his hand. "You could always lose the shirt too, baby. In fact I'd prefer that."

"Hilarious, John." She batted his hand off her, leaned down to kiss him. "Let's get moving, soldier!" She sprang off the bed, entered the bathroom after grabbing a bra from the dresser.

John sighed, stretching languidly on the bed. "Moira!" he called. "I've changed our schedule. Sleep. Sex. Dinner. Sex. Shower. Sex. Sleep. Sex. Okay, baby?"

"Hilarious, John!" she called, stepping out of the bathroom and moving to stand at the bed. She secured her hair into a neat ponytail. "John!"

He pouted. "I don't want to move, Moira. And we'll just be interrupted. Hey, sweetheart, go get me a beer and a burger. And double fries since you always snurch mine."

She laughed. "Is that an order, colonel?"

"Yes. Now move that pert little ass and get my food! Double time!"

She shook her head. "I don't think so, colonel. Now, unless you want to deploy that considerable ordnance this evening you will get that fine, fine ass off my bed and accompany me to dinner like a gentleman. Now!"

He laughed, sprang off the bed. "Yes, ma'am! And it's our bed. Ours." He followed her out of the room, swatting her rear. He laughed as she whirled.

"John Sheppard!"

"What? Move it, baby, I'm starving!"


Moira sighed. Stood waiting, glancing round the physics lab. It was a maze of desks, equipment. A stack of ZPMs stood to one side, all depleted but cannibalized for parts nonetheless. Computers dominated, lining the desks, the tables. One large screen glinted in the soft lights.

"Moira! Sorry! I was finishing dinner, here." Rodney hastened towards her, talking round a mouthful of food.

"So was I," she noted, "but I finished. What is it?"

"This." He pointed at his desk, walked round it and cleared a space to deposit a strange-looking machine, a mixture of Ancient tech and a DVD player.

"That? Your DVD player?" she asked.

"What? No! But yes, I have finally re-booted my DVD player and the pixel quality is amazing! No, that. That!" He gestured impatiently.

"The paperweight?" she asked, following his wiggling fingers to the tiny device poised on the computer.

"Yes. Pick it up. I think I fixed the problem, the crystals you jiggled loose."

"I didn't jiggle any crystals loose," she argued, but lifted the device. "Rodney!" She set it down as the little light blinked blue. A rapid sequence, then went dark.

"No, no, no, no, that's impossible! Touch it again!" She did so. Nothing happened. Rodney lifted it. "What the...that's impossible! It shouldn't have done that!"

"Done what? Rodney? Rodney, did it transmit a signal?" Moira asked. She stared at the little device worriedly.

"No! I mean, maybe....no! Damn this technology! It's beyond ours, Moira! Nearly beyond me, but I swear it can't transmit anything!"

"To Ford? Rodney, John's going on that mission tomorrow!"

"I know! Let me think...let me think..." He turned the device over in his hands, peering at it. As if he could discern its circuitry and intentions. "In any event there's no way Ford could ever breach the city, Moira. No way. If it did send a signal all he knows is that you are here. Which means...which means..."

"What? Rodney, what does it mean? Unless...he must know that John is on the way."

"Yes, with two full teams. What the devil is that kid up to?"


John tapped the wall screen. A three-dimensional hologram of the village and its environs blinked to life. Outlined in green and red. Further markings in blue denoting distances and other natural impediments. The many trees and rocks. "We'll set a perimeter here. Do not approach the village. My team will be the only one making contact. At this juncture we will assume that the villagers are hostile and are to be treated as such. We have no idea how many hostiles are on the planet, but we do know one is a highly trained individual. Organized. You all heard our standing orders?"

Murmurs of assent filled the room as the marines all sat at attention. Expressions serious.

"Our first priority, our only priority is to contain Ford. Capture him if we can. Eliminate him if we can't. Obviously we would prefer to take him alive, but our priority is to contain him at any costs. Understood? Any of Ford's associates or accomplices are to be met with deadly force. Questions?"

"No, sir." Several voices. Solemn. Grave.

John could see their dismay, their reluctance. "I know what you're thinking, but you are wrong. Ford is no longer one of our own. Not any more. He is too dangerous to be left out there roaming the galaxy at will. He presents a clear danger to this city, to our people. You have your orders. We leave at oh seven hundred. Dismissed." John folded his arms across his chest, watched his men file out of the conference room. All but one. "What?"

Ronon shrugged, waited until the last marine had exited. He stood. "Nothing. Just...I know. How hard it is to deal with a traitor. When one of your own turns on you."

"It's not exactly like that," John temporized.

"So you say. But still...you have no option but to take him out."

"I know. That's what I just said. Do you have a point, Ronon, or are you just trying to start an argument?" John snapped.

Ronon smiled. "No. No point. Only I know. How to deal with traitors."

"Oh. Good to know. Dismissed. Go!" John gestured. He shut down the map, stood staring at the empty screen. Hearing footsteps he sighed. "I told you to...oh...sorry!" He caught himself, seeing Elizabeth enter the room.

"John? I just heard. About the third team. I think that's an excellent idea."

"Thank you. With Caldwell breathing down my neck I can't afford to make any mistakes. You'll still have functioning teams and security in the city won't be compromised."

"John, I know you understand the gravity of this situation."

"Yes, and I won't let him slip through my fingers. And I won't do anything reckless."

"Good to know," she echoed his words. They smiled. But her smile faded. "I wish there was another way. It's bad enough to lose one of our own...it happens far too frequently. But this...it's worse. I'm sure you already know that."

"Yes." John refused to be drawn into the conversation, any conversation about Ford. Except with Moira.

"I can't imagine what he's been through. Being transformed by the enzyme. Being on the run from the Wraith, from us. Forming his own unit to fight the Wraith, to fight us, even." She sighed. Smiled briefly. "Remember how excited he was, going through the 'Gate. Like a kid in a candy store! Everything was a marvel to him. So many possibilities. Although he was terrible at naming things. Do you remember–"

"I'm not doing this," John noted sourly. "He's a threat to be eliminated. End of story. Excuse me. My wife," he paused, stressing the word almost aggressively, "is waiting for me."