In the Naked Light I Saw14

Moira stared at him, feeling a chill. Her fingers paused on his back. Then resumed caressing. "You, you mean the, the Wraith creatures."

He nodded. "You. I know it wasn't you, not even close, really, but I...it was like I killed you. Back there. Here. They resembled you, though...were part of you, in a way, like some weird genetic mishmash, I don't know. They looked more like you at first, until the Wraith features began to take over, but even then it was a weird combination. I, um, I put the bodies back...into the pods. To go back there. To give that bastard a message that he had failed...in whatever he was trying to do. I know what you're thinking, yes, it was brutal, and yes, it scared the kid but it had to be done, Moy, it had to be done!"

She swallowed. "Okay, John. If you, if you thought that it had to be done," she soothed, appalled at his actions. At the same time understanding them. She could only imagine the colonel's reaction at this unexpected message.

"It had to be done," he repeated, as if trying to convince himself as well as her. He paused. Shoving away the memory of the one opening its eyes. As if to implore, to beg. He licked his lips. "It was like I killed you, Moy, like he killed you, well, his version of you. He did, remember. He killed her. And it was like I was following in his footsteps, sort of. Doing the same thing."

Moira stared, startled. "It...it wasn't the same, John." She kissed his cheek. "Sweetie, you're not like him. You will never be like him. Don't you worry."

"You don't understand, Moira. I...I didn't hesitate. Not at all. I, um, I actually enjoyed the, the chase and then the..." He lowered his gaze to the blankets. Hands clasping them momentarily. The memory of the almost primal enjoyment of the kill. Until he had gotten a better view of the creature. Had seen its resemblance to his wife.

"Of course you didn't hesitate, John. You were protecting us. Protecting your children. Protecting me. You would never hesitate to do that, would you?"

"No."

"Of course not. And if those other, more primal urges took over, those enhancements which made you completely focus on your objective, well...that's something you will have to learn to control. To accept. It's a part of you now. But you are still you. Still John Sheppard and that will never change. It's all right, John."

"Is it, Moy?"

"Yes." She lifted his troubled face to hers. Kissed him. "John. I love you. We all love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I'm not so sure, Moy."

"Well, I am." She kissed him again. "John." She kept kissing him, savoring the full softness of his lips. The abrasion of his stubble on her skin as she kissed along his jaw, up to his ear. To circle. To bite. She drew him down with her. On top of her. Legs opening in welcome as she caressed his arm, his back. Kiss after kiss. "John, oh John," she whispered. She bit his ear again. Felt his inevitable response, his cock jerking between her legs. Hard. Eager.

John kissed her deeply, hands sliding along her body. Sliding up the nightshirt. Tugging at her panties, at his boxers. Impatient to remove all obstacles, all impediments. He groaned, bodies squirming against each other, lifting and moving as they removed the clothing that was in their way. Finally he thrust into her, kept thrusting as need consumed him.

Moira clung, kissing him, whimpering and softly moaning as each penetration brought increasing pleasure. The promise of passionate culmination closer, closer. She arched, fingers tightening on his arms as he thrust harder, faster now. Rocking the bed in a frenzied momentum. She cried out as the climax came quickly, roughly. John growled, coming after her. Repeatedly thrusting as he jerked in a shuddering release. His need assuaged he fell upon her. Face pressed to her breasts, breathing heavily.

"Moira," he muttered, voice low. Possessive. Relaxing in the warmth of her love, her passion. The pleasure joining them still.

She relaxed, stroked his hair, his back. Feeling the tension drain from him as he slid out of her. "John, oh John..."

He kissed her, settled on her. Stroked her bandaged arm. "Moira...so fucking sweet. God, I needed that. Needed you."

"Ssh, sweetie. It's all right."

"Is it?" he asked. He lifted to view her face. "Moy?" He kissed her. Brushed her hair tenderly from her face. "I love you, Moira."

"I love you, John. Easy now. It's all right, sweetie."

He relented. Relaxed. Rested on her, comfortable. "Fuck I needed that, Moira. Let me." He moved. Began to undo the bandage on her arm.

She winced. "John? No, it's all right, sweetie, please. It's fine. John, please, it's fine."

He paused, kissed her. "I can heal this, baby. Trust me. Does it hurt?"

"Yes. It's deep, John. Can you heal it? No, no!" She stopped him. "You can't. I mean, I mean...if you do, they will notice. They will wonder. They will–"

"Don't care. Let me take care of you, Moira. Easy now." He unwrapped the wound. Eyed it, frowning. The deep cut along her arm. The jagged scarring where the knife had cut her. The flesh was red, purplish at the edges were it was bruised. He could feel her tensing under him. He carefully caressed around the injury. Met her worried gaze. "Do you trust me, Moira?"

"Yes, John. Of course. I just...how will I explain..."

"Don't you worry, baby. Relax." His eyes slitted. She stared, not flinching as they took on an alien aspect. He kissed her. Slid along her body. Ran his mouth with delicate precision around the ugly cut. She winced, softly moaned in protest as it started to tingle. To feel warm as his kisses became more aggressive. As his tongue sloppily licked along it now. She bit her lower lip to stifle her moans, trying to see what he was doing. Until a warmth blossomed all along her arm.

John concentrated, feeling her moving under him. Her soft noises guiding him but also arousing him, reminding him of sex. He shifted, as his cock was reacting, nestled between her thighs. He kissed, nibbling gently, feeling a weird surge in him that was similar to the enzyme except that he was controlling it. Guiding it as he sought to heal her, aid her in every way. He had never attempted something like this on such a deep injury but he was determined to do what he could.

Wanting her whole and healthy and comfortable.

Moira gasped, arching as the feelings became intense, indescribable. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Sensations tingling up and down her arm, all the way to the bone. His sloppy mouth on her both uncomfortable and arousing. She grabbed onto his arms, eyes widening as suddenly his very erect cock was sliding into her. "John? John?"

"Sorry, baby, side-effect oh fuck that is sweet," he muttered, freeing her arm and thrusting deeply into her now. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing her, kissing her, abruptly coming with a growl.

Moira sighed, melted into the orgasm as he moved, moved, moved with precision, then fell upon her once more. "John!" She looked over at her arm, stared. The scar was still there but not as ugly, not as sore. The bruising was gone. "You...you..."

"I did what I could, on both fronts," he quipped with a smile. Lifted to slide out of her. To eye her arm. He gently restored the bandage. "Better?"

"Yes...much. You...yes. How?" She met his gaze.

He blinked, restoring his eyes again. "Hell if I know, baby. We'll see how it is tomorrow. Your sounds...fuck they turn me on so, well, you know..." He sheepishly shrugged, a smirk on his lips.

She smiled. "I see, colonel. Well, I guess you couldn't help that, could you, since we were already, um, prepped, as it were."

"Yeah, prepped and primed, baby. Fuck that was good." He settled on, comfortable. Weary. "Tell me."

She smiled. He sounded like Seamus now, the abbreviated question. "Tell you what, John?"

"Tell me how he could do it. Make some fucking facsimile of you. Is it even possible?"

"Oh. I...I'm not sure." She frowned, considering. "Using the retro-virus he would strip all of the Wraith elements away, leaving the human. But it will only be half of my genetic code. Even if he had more of my DNA...it still wouldn't be me. Not entirely."

"But close enough?"

"I don't know. Superficially, I guess. Physically, maybe. But not quite. Not identical. I don't think. And certainly not me. Not intellectually or emotionally...unless the Wraith psychic abilities could tap into that part of my brain and extract enough to simulate me...maybe...unless he could program that somehow...their science is more advanced than ours and if he already has my biological readings not to mention whatever else he may have on those scans...but it still wouldn't be me. The real me," she concluded. Yet she wondered. Wondered.

"But close enough," he muttered. Settled on her once more. Thinking. "No." He lifted to view her face again. "Not close enough. It wouldn't be you, and you're what he wants. So what other reason could there be? What was his plan, exactly?"

She felt a chill. Pulled him closer suddenly. Needing the solid surety of him. "I...I don't know."

He kissed her. Rolled so they were facing each other. He pulled her close, arms securely around her. "Don't you worry, baby. I will figure it out. I will. I won't let anything happen to you. Or to our children. Ever."

She was silent. "Go to sleep, John," she whispered.

He kissed her, closing his eyes. "I'll know. I'll sense any danger now. There will be no more incursions into the city. I promise. I'll figure out his agenda, just give me a little time. He's a devious bastard, but then again so am I. You'll be safe. We'll all be safe. Our little circle. Perfect. Safe. Secure. Mine. All mine." His voice dropped lower, lower, as he drifted to sleep.

Moira snuggled into him, never doubting his words. His certainty. His love. But she wondered. She stared at the darkness, thinking it all over, trying to figure out the colonel's other agenda besides saving his son. Pondering what their advanced sciences could do. Pondering what the depths of the colonel's desperation would make him do.

If not an exact replica or even a close copy what could that other John Sheppard be attempting to create from her DNA?

Or could be make a Moira of his own?