Camouflage8

Moira was shaking her head. Glanced at the data streaming on the computer. Glanced at Carson who was watching her, a solemn expression on his face. Worry in his blue eyes. "No. We don't need to wait for John as this concerns me, right? Carson? You've found something, haven't you?"

The doctor nodded. "Aye. But you are fine, Moira. There's no need to worry on that score."

"Then on what score should we be worried?" John interrupted, joining them. It had been an easy guess as to where she had gone. He glanced at her, scowled. Resumed his gaze on Carson as she ignored him. "Well?"

Carson looked at them, seeing the odd tension. "Thanks to your excellent collation of all the available data, Moira, I've been able to narrow the bio-chemical building blocks of each enzyme. There are subtle but significant differences at the cellular level. This one," he pointed to the screen, "is the one that infected you. See this? None of the others have this. It's been altered."

"Something's been added?" she guessed, staring at the green, swirling chemical chains. She nearly jumped as John's hand slid under her shirt to caress her lower back.

"What? How? How could it...why? Do I no longer possess the..." She touched an Ancient scanner. It flared to life. She relaxed, relieved.

"No, you still do. Your particular gene is quite strong, nearly as strong as John's. The enzyme that was administered to you was a small enough amount, insignificant enough to limit the damage to your ATA gene but enough for your own antibodies to successfully combat it."

"Insignificant?" John questioned. "You should have heard her, Carson. She was throwing up like she'd eaten a whole banquet and not some insignificant little..." He stopped. Considering.

"Thanks for the reminder, John," she snapped. His hand was still on her back. Fingers drumming along her spine. Something he did when he was thinking fast. Unaware that he was doing it as his thoughts spun. "So that explains the fever as well. But why–"

"That son of a bitch," John muttered, realizing. Fingers stilled on her back now. "He didn't infect you just to point you in the right direction, Moira. You were the test subject." His voice was low, furious.

"What?" she exclaimed, startled.

"What?" echoed Carson, equally stunned.

John frowned. "Those ATA Wraith were all created initially from the breeding program. From Moira's genetic code. And whomever they used to, um, um, fertilize her. Right? So each of them has some of her DNA embedded in the ATA gene."

"Yes," Carson agreed, nodding. "There would have to be a certain amount. It's unavoidable."

"And that enzyme is specifically targeted to attack that particular ATA gene, that particular genetic code. Not just any ATA gene like yours, or mine. Only Moira's. Biological warfare. The way to eliminate the ATA Wraith. Not disable their ATA abilities but to kill them. From the inside out," John surmised.

Carson grimaced. "Like the Hoffan serum, only worse because it is designed to target a specific..." He looked at Moira. "Oh my God...we're talking virtual genocide, John! Of an entire species!"

"Yes. And Moira was the test subject. To see if the formula was viable. To see if it could be produced or synthesized to higher, more lethal doses. Combining what you discovered with more of Moira's specific DNA to produce a fatal toxin. With no antidote."

"No. I...I don't believe it..." Moira whispered. In shock. Horrified. Heart hammering in her chest.

"Believe it, Moira. You were patient zero," John curtly informed.

"I don't believe it," Carson echoed. "The colonel would deliberately risk her life to prove the efficacy of this murderous toxin? Any larger amount and she could have been harmed irreparably! Or even killed! You really think that–"

"Yes. The evidence speaks for itself," John argued. "The city fell, Carson. The ATA Wraith were unstoppable. The survivors are fighting for their very lives, their very existence. And there will be no help from Earth coming. None at all. To protect his people he will do anything, go to any extremes even at the risk of..." He glanced at Moira. "It will never, never excuse this, however." John could understand to a point. But only to a point as he gazed upon his wife.

"I...I don't believe it..." she repeated, feeling tears at yet another betrayal. The ruthlessness. The cunning. The effective use of her. She looked at John, felt a shiver. "He...he wouldn't...he...he couldn't..."

"Would you, John?" Carson asked. Had to know.

John grimly nodded. "As a last resort. Yes. A desperate gamble to save the survivors against overwhelming odds. Yes. But not to Moira. I would never had done anything to Moira. I'd rather die than allow anything or anyone to ever harm her."

"Don't. Don't say that, John, please!" she whispered, upset. Appalled for yet a different reason. "I can't believe he would..."

John met her gaze. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it is the truth. I would never involve you under any circumstances. I'd rather–"

"Please!" She looked at the floor, distraught.

Carson stared, perplexed. "Moira? It is very romantic, what John is–"

"No. No! It's not romantic! You think dying is romantic, do you?" she snapped, glaring at the doctor. "It's not! It's the worst thing you can do to another person, dying to save them, to..." She turned away, forcing down the guilt, the emotions. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" She suddenly turned back to John, moved against him. Hiding her face, her guilt against his shoulder.

John's arm slid round her. Comforting. "I'm sorry," he said against her brow. Kissed her tenderly. Looked at Carson and shook his head to discourage any questions. "Can you synthesize these chemicals into a viable weapon?"

"I don't think the question is could I, John. It's should I. And no." Carson folded his arms across his chest. "I won't. I won't be a party to genocide. Especially when this formula would very well kill Moira."

"Yet your counterpart in that other reality did the initial work on this. With even less information than you have here. And no Moira." His arm tightened around her.

"That may well be true but I am not him. Tell me, is that reality populated with dark side versions of all of us?"

"I don't know, but apparently most of us," John answered. "Except for Rodney. When they lost Moira...when he..." John shook away the thought. How his dark side self had killed his Moira.

"It's a question of could you, Carson. At least develop a formula for it."

Moira pulled back from John, calmed by his solid warmth, quiet understanding. Burying the past. "John? You...you are going to help him?"

He met her gaze. "Maybe. But he's not getting anywhere near you. That son a bitch," he fumed dangerously. He looked at Carson, face stern. Gaze brooking no opposition. "Doctor Beckett, you will work up a viable formula, one that will have the most efficacious effect on those ATA Wraith and kill them. All of them. Write out the entire sequences to download to a flash drive." Before the doctor could object John led Moira towards the doorway. Tone loving, expression gentle. "Moira, could you do me a favor?"

"Of, of course, John," she said, still rattled.

He smiled reassuringly. "Collate what data you have on the Wraith here. Ours, I mean. I need to check on McKay's progress. I'll meet you in our room and we can see if there is a third message. All right, sweetheart?"

"I...okay, John."

"Okay, Moira." He kissed her. "I'll see you in ten, maybe twenty if Rodney doesn't stop talking."

She smiled. "Better make it thirty then."

He smiled. "Thirty at the most, you're right." He watched her go, turned as Carson approached.

"Is she all right? I can understand her being in shock over those horrible revelations but the way she reacted over your devotion to–"

"She's fine. Don't worry about the other. I'll take care of her. Right now I've got her busily distracted on some sciency stuff so she'll be calming down."

"Sciency?" Carson smiled.

"Yeah." John grew serious. "I need that formula ASAP, doc. Whatever is missing in it you will supply. No arguments."

John strode to the physics lab, past scientists who parted like waves seeing his glowering expression. "Rodney! How's the work on the anomaly progressing?"

Rodney didn't even bother to look up from his computer. Not quailed at all like the others. "Oh hi, John, how are you today? Me, oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking. I was just thinking of breaking for dinner if you would care to–"

"Rodney! Progress?" John snapped.

"Of course there's been progress! It's me! These equations are brilliant! But of course since they are mine they are higher forms of mathematics that heretofore I have only theorized about but evidently they are real, physical realities in his world! I have pinpointed the one that more than likely leads to their reality, to trigger the anomaly. Problem is I'm still working on the key card."

"You mean I'm still working on the keycard," Radek Zelenka noted wryly.

"Yes, yes, but I'm guiding you. I don't have the schematics here...your other self conveniently left out that part of the puzzle. I know it is compromised of an Ancient crystal device but I have had to make calculations based on the fact that it has to fit into their hybrid ships, which are pretty cool, by the way."

"You mean I've had to make those calculations," Radek corrected with a harried sigh.

"And I need to find just the right combination and equations and crystals to stabilize the systems otherwise poof!"

"Poof?" John asked, finally able to get a word in.

"Yes. Poof. As in either a massive explosion resulting in the annihilation of a Jumper, or poof as in the permanent rending of the curtain between our two respective realities, a hole in the space time continuum which would not, would not be a good thing. Trust me on this."

"He's right," Radek agreed.

"How long?"

"I don't know!" Rodney looked up to see John's scowl. "I told you this is a very difficult, very intricate series of higher mathematics and if I make one mistake, only one then–"

"Poof. I got it. How long? I need it ASAP, Rodney! I need the door slammed on that reality once and for all! He can't be near her again, ever!"

"I'm working as fast as I can, John! It's not like he's going to stroll into Atlantis and whisk her off her feet to hey hey hey!" Rodney stammered as John hauled the scientist out of his chair and across the room.

"Rodney," he said low, "that is exactly what he will do. To get the formula to kill the ATA Wraith, to get Moira because she's the genetic key to end them. He used her, Rodney! He used her as an experiment to test his toxin and it made her ill. She's fine now but he will do it again, or worse. So yeah, I need to lock down that fucking reality for good. Got it?"

Rodney stared. Appalled. "I...I had no idea he...she's okay now, right? My God...I didn't realize you...I mean he...we'll work on this all night, John. It will still take at least a week for me to devise the keycard correctly, I'm afraid. I can't rush this, you know. Remember? Poof."

"Fine. A week will work. Thanks."

John limped to a balcony outside of the control room. He stood, staring at the vivid sunset dropping like a stone into the waters. A burst of orange brilliance dimming rapidly. Turning the waters into waves of violet. Lashing along the piers. He touched the cool metal of the railing. Both hands grasping it as his mind raced. Already knowing what he had to do.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Elizabeth stood beside him. Watching the fading sunset. At his silence she continued. "No matter how often I come here to watch the sunset it always surprises me. It always seems to change. It gives one a sense of peace, of serenity. The one thing you can count on, the sun setting over the waters. Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"I heard what happened to Moira. I can't imagine...I mean...it doesn't make sense to me. But apparently it does to you." She looked at him. He was staring at the waters. Expression unreadable. Violet light washing over him. Making him appear darker. Moodier. "Carson said she was fine now. Isn't she?"

"She's fine now."

She frowned. Although accustomed to his reserved demeanor he seemed more closed off than usual. It worried her. "John? Look, I know we've had our differences over, over certain, um, decisions you have made...but you have my full support whatever you decide to do now." She waited. "What exactly have you decided to do?"

John was silent. Sighed. Straightened. He had reached the decision. Knew there was no alternative. Mind already working on all the angles. Plotting. Planning. "I'm going to bed."