Fixed Action Pattern10
John stood in the control room, hands on hips. Trying to ignore the dull ache in his head he squinted at the readouts scrolling down the computer screen. Radek was seated at the console, muttering in Czech, and whatever he was saying it didn't sound good. "Are you telling me that we are down to half power? Even with a fully loaded ZPM? How is that possible? We were fine yesterday."
"I don't know," Radek sighed. "It's as if something was draining the power. Then stopped. I've got weird anomalous energy signatures all over the city. They flicker in and out and are impossible to trace. Faster than the blink of an eye."
"It's almost as if it's searching for something," Elizabeth mused, joining them. "Whatever it is. Any progress on that front?"
"Not yet. Have any systems been accessed?"
"No. That's the odd thing. It's not searching the data base. It's not even in the data base as far as I can tell. It should be, being an energy wave, but it's not in here." He tapped the console. "It's out there, somehow." He pointed vaguely towards the city.
John tapped his earpiece. "Rodney, progress?"
Rodney snorted, startled from his drowsy agony. He lifted his head. "Huh? Oh fine, John," he acerbically commented, tapping the earpiece, "we've got this all sorted now and have moved on to how to destroy the Wraith. How do you think it's going? There's nothing! Nothing but useless data and these damn headaches and those visions of a bleak, unforgiving future, so no, we haven't been able to find something that isn't there!"
"Keep working," John stated, ignored his friend's irate words. "Where's Moira?"
"She's not here. She went to check on Lorne, you–"
"Sheppard out." He abruptly strode out of the control room, leaving Elizabeth to stare after him.
Moira stood at Evan's door. Knocked. "Evan? It's Moira. Are you all right?" She knocked again. "Evan?" She waved her hand over the panel. The door opened. She stared, about to cross the threshold but hesitated. The room was dark. Too dark for mid-day. An inky blackness filled every corner, every wall. She touched her baby bump. Stepped back, bit her lower lip. Uncertain. Guilty. "Evan?"
"Moira!" John sprinted to her side.
She whirled, stumbling in alarm. "John? John, I...I can't! I can't!"
He drew her across the hall. "It's all right, Moira. I'll–"
"No!" She shoved free, tears in her eyes. "It's not all right! I should go in there! Evan's in trouble, he needs me but I can't, I can't! Because, because..." She glanced down at her hand still on the baby bump. Her wedding ring glinted golden.
He touched her hand there. "Because your top priority is yourself and John junior. As it should be, Moy." His voice was quiet. Serious.
She met his gaze. "But, but I...he...you..."
John kissed her. Drawing her into his arms. Gently turning her, moving her against the wall. "And my top priority is you. And John junior," he said low into her ear. Kissed her again. "Stay right here, Moira." He stepped away from her. Drew his gun.
"John?" She watched him as he entered the room.
John crossed the threshold. Waved his hand over the light panel. Lights flickered dimly. Revealing an empty but messy room. The bed disordered. Chairs knocked onto their sides. Books and clothes on the floor. "Lorne? Hello?" Gun poised John checked the room, stepping carefully around the clutter.
Moira stared at the doorway. Tempted to approach but heeding John's words. Lights flickered in the hallway. "John?" she called.
John stepped across the room. Emerged and crossed to Moira, returning his gun to its holster. "Empty. Signs of a struggle, or a fight. I'm not sure if–"
"Sheppard! Storm's approaching fast!" Radek's voice broke over the PA, crackling.
"What?" He tapped his earpiece, caught Moira's arm. "Repeat!"
"It came out of nowhere, John!" Elizabeth's voice sounded worried. "A massive cloud with lights, directly over the city! We've raised the shield but it won't–"
"On it! We'll use the Chair! Give me the coordinates!" He pulled Moira. "Let's go, Moira! I'll need your double, well, John junior's double."
They ran to the lower levels, to the Ancient Chair. John leapt into it, sat back. Power hummed at his touch. Lights shone all around. He closed his eyes. "Zelenka! Coordinates now!"
"John. John, it's not working!" Moira warned, as the lights faded.
"What?" He opened his eyes. Stared in disbelief at the nearly inert Chair. The flickering lights. "Shit. Moy, give me your double."
She smirked for a moment. "Really, John? I've always wanted to have sex in that Chair."
He grinned. "Hilarious, Moira. Power me up."
"With pleasure, sweetie." She touched the Chair. Closed her eyes and concentrated. Power stuttered to life. Lights flickered, grew stronger.
John closed his eyes, concentrating. "Zelenka, give me those coordinates. We've only got one shot at this!"
"Vector seven, twenty degrees south, forty-two east. Shield is inoperable!"
"Got it! Moy, concentrate now. Think of the drones. Here we go, baby."
"Are you talking to me or to the Chair?" she teased, but concentrated.
He smiled, then grimaced as he forced the Chair to react. Forced the tendrils of power into his mind, directing. Assessing. The response was sluggish. He activated the drones.
Moira clutched the Chair's arm tightly, face furrowing in concentration. Lips pursed together. She felt the power rising, rising. Like a living thing. Pictured the drones. Pictured the storm. A gathering mass of darkness with pinpricks of red and blue lightning. Descending on the city like a funereal shroud. She felt a queasiness, a panic until John's fingers strayed to hers. As if sensing her fear he clasped down on her hand.
John strained, fighting the growing headache. The fatigue. A sudden muscle cramp in his leg. "Zelenka, report! I think I got it! I hit something! Raise the shield! Zelenka! McKay!" John opened his eyes, as a rush of energy drained him. The power was abruptly gone. The room was plunged into darkness. His fingers entwined with Moira's but she was falling backwards. "Moira? Moira no!" He leapt out of the Chair, staggered. Pulled her into his arms before they both fell. "Moira, are you okay? Moira!"
She opened her eyes, grabbing onto him. "John? John, did you–"
"Yes, I think so. Stay close to me. Anyone?" He tapped the earpiece. Silence. He looked at the hallway. "Something's zapped all of our systems. Even communications are down." He looked at the Chair. "We're nearly defenseless," he muttered. He looked back at her. She was staring fixedly at the darkness beyond them. Beyond the feeble glow of the Chair's fading power. "Do you see something?"
"No." Yet she continued to stare.
John stared at the darkness. The shadows almost absorbing the weak emergency lights as they blinked on, one by one. Soft amber pools. He moved in front of her, a quiet, stealthy motion. Drew his gun. Aimed it steadily. "It's there," he softly noted.
"What? I don't see any–"
"Ssh. I don't either, but I know. It's out there."
"Here? In the city?" she whispered.
"Yes. A shadow in the darkness. Stay behind me." He winced as his headache flared. He kept still. Kept his stance. Kept the gun firmly in his grasp.
Moira hunched, feeling sick. "John," she moaned.
He fired suddenly. At the darkness. At the pinpoints of light dancing briefly. Fired repeatedly, fighting past the pounding in his head. "Get down!" he ordered, dropping to his knees. He pulled her down behind him.
A wave of something hit, exploding in his head. Flashes of memory, of nightmares invaded as he fell backwards into Moira. Onto her as he instinctively covered her even as he lost consciousness on a wave of darkling pain.
Moira woke. The sound of gunshots still rang in her ears, in her head. She was on her back. Something pinned her down. A heavy, unmoving weight on top of her. Someone. She stirred, struggling to full wakefulness, to remember. John. She shifted. Trying to move. She touched him. Could barely make him out in the blackness. His form sprawled across hers. "John? John!" She nudged. Pushed. Fingers on his throat to feel a steady, strong pulse. She relaxed a little. Hauled herself out from underneath him, enough to sit. "Ow!" she complained as she hit her head on the Chair. She kept John's head on her lap. His body sprawled across her legs.
She touched his face, his head, peering close. Felt no injuries. No bumps. No blood. She touched the Chair. It powered sluggishly. Lent a weak bluish glow which extended to the heels of John's boots. Just to the gun, inches beyond them. She knew she should go get the weapon, but was loath to leave John undefended, unconscious. Alone. She stared at the darkness. Discerned a deeper shadow in the doorway. Glints of light winking. She nudged her husband. "John? John...now would be a good time to wake up, sweetie. John?" She felt her abdomen. Felt no discomfort or pain. "John, any time now, please," she urged. Nudging him again.
John's head was a dull pounding drum. Sluggishly he gained consciousness. Felt Moira underneath him. Imagined them naked, entwined in the new bed just after a passionate sexual union. But it was the floor under him, not the mattress. And they were both fully clothed. Memory surfaced. Gunshots. Firing at nothing. At something indefinable in the darkness. Moira behind him. He opened his eyes, sat abruptly. Groaned as his head swam. "Moy?"
"John, John, are you–"
"Are you? John junior?" he asked, hand sliding up to her baby bump. Gentle. Protective.
"Fine, John. Both of us. You?"
"Fine. Except for this fucking headache." He touched the Chair. Power flared, then faded. "Crap." He looked at Moira. She was bathed in blue light. Staring past his shoulder. He caressed the baby bump, testing, but she didn't flinch. "Moy? What is it?"
"I...I don't know. Something in the dark. Darker than the dark. Tiny lights. Like it's held at bay. Like it's unable to–"
John kissed her suddenly. A slow, savoring merging into the blue light with her. Merging their lips. Opening her mouth to slide his tongue along hers. Fingers still caressing the baby bump. He sat back a little, only a little. Gaze locked with hers. The blue light turning her eyes into a darker shade of brown.
She stared, lips parted. "John?" she whispered. Caught his hand at her abdomen.
He shrugged. "Sorry. I...I needed to do that, sweetheart," he explained quietly. Puzzled himself. He slowly turned to view the darkness. Spotted the gun. Felt her fingers slide along his back. "How does your head feel?" he asked, gaze peering intently at the darkness beyond. Trying to see past it. Into it.
"A little groggy, but otherwise fine."
"And John junior?" His voice was low, almost intimate.
Moira shifted a little, reacting despite the situation. "Fine. You must have hit whatever it is."
"All right. Let's move to our feet. Slowly. Stay behind me. Keep hold of my arm."
"John...wouldn't the city go into lock down if there was an intruder?"
John slowly moved to his feet, guiding Moira to hers. "Yes. Even with the power cut. It's a separate system. Unless it can't detect whatever the hell this is. Or isn't." He tapped his earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Anyone reading me? Please respond. Rodney? Elizabeth? Radek?" He took a few steps towards the gun. Stopped. "Nothing. It's like a ghost town."
"City," she corrected.
"What?"
"City. It's not a town, but a city so you...never mind."
He smiled. "Now's not really the time for a semantics lesson, sweetheart." He took a few more steps. Bent his knees. Snatched the gun. Straightened. Holstered it as he suddenly staggered.
"John?" She kept hold of his arm.
"Damn headache. Give me a sec...whoa...." he swayed, caught himself as Moira held him firmly. She steadied him, arms around his waist.
"John? Easy, easy, sweetie. Do you need to sit down?"
"No, I'm fine. Fine..." But he drew her back to the Chair. Sank to his knees suddenly as the room began to spin wildly. "Oh crap."