Hibernation4
Moira stepped out of the bathroom. Clean. Clothed. She tied her hair back from her face. John was still sprawled on the bed. Had fallen into a doze, snoring slightly. She shook her head, simply left. Angered and hurt. Puzzled by his mood, his refusals to talk to her. To tell her anything. She strode through the city. Quickened her steps seeing Elizabeth in the control room.
"Doctor Weir? May I have a word? I need to know..."
Elizabeth eyed her. Curious at her flustered appearance. Stern expression. "Of course, Moira. What do you need to know?"
"I find it easier to be blunt in these, um, situations."
"All right. Be blunt," Elizabeth humored her.
"What happened in your office to piss off John?"
Elizabeth stared. Blinked. Taken aback for a moment. "Wow, you weren't kidding about being blunt, were you?"
"No. Sorry. It's just because he's in a real pissy mood when he shouldn't be, and I'm trying to figure out why."
"Oh. And of course he won't tell you."
Moira sighed. "No. You know how damn reticent he can be."
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Let me be blunt, Moira. He placed four women on the transfer list for no good reason. Didn't you ask him to do that?"
"What? No. I didn't know. He never said he...the, the four fucking ex-lovers?" she whispered, wondering. Surprised. Impressed.
"What? You really didn't know?" Elizabeth inquired. Had assumed Moira was behind it. "I can't be sure, but since they are all civilians and have been here longer than you have I assumed they were, um, former, um, dates of his." She appeared uncomfortable.
"I didn't know, honestly. I never even asked him to...wow...that's so–"
"Unprofessional, yes," Elizabeth misinterpreted. "I need to discuss this with him before I can even consider approving his suggestions."
"No, romantic. That he would do that for me," she marveled.
"And then there's the flash drive. You knew about this too, didn't you? Tell me, Moira, why is John refusing to give it to me? He offered to send me copies of the files he's already shared with Carson and Rodney, but I need to see the whole thing. He said there is personal stuff on there."
Moira nodded. Realizing the reasons for her husband's mood at last. "Yes. There is. Messages from his dark side version. For me. I think it would be better if John had the flash drive. You really don't need to see that other stuff. But of course you need to see the files on the Wraith and the technology and the anomaly."
"I need to see any and all files that pertain to the security of this city."
"And you will, Doctor Weir. We will make copies of all relevant files. But not the personal ones. Look, John is rather, um, touchy about his dark side version. About the interactions with, with me. And none of that has any bearing on the security of this city, of this reality. Don't push him on this," she warned gravely, "please don't."
Elizabeth considered. "All right. As long as I receive all pertinent data I will leave the rest be, for now. And I won't approve those transfers without valid reasons."
Moira nodded. "Fair enough. Thank you."
John exited the cafeteria, one last longing look directed at the beer before he left. A package of fudge under his arm. He had woken alone. Sprawled on the bed, lost in erotic memories until he suddenly remembered the things he had said to Moira. He strode down the hallway. Realized his expression must be grim as marines parted for him. Straightened. Even a nervous captain saluted. He entered the botany lab, found it empty to his relief. He grabbed a canvas bag, began to fill it with roses. Snatching them by the bunches.
Cursing himself, Moira, everyone in his head. Emotions tangled, thoughts racing. Pissed the euphoria from the sex was not making him as happy as he should be. Deploring the things he had said to Moira. The way he had treated her. His wife. His lover. His beloved. He berated himself. Shut out all the conflicting thoughts, emotions, slamming the door on what was really bothering him without a thought as he headed back to his quarters. He entered, arranged the flowers on the table. Held onto the caramel fudge and sat on their bed. Waiting.
Moira entered their room. Froze. Holding onto the two beers, one in each hand. She glanced at the table. At the dozens and dozens of roses. Pinks and scarlets. Fuchsias.
"I, um, I didn't think roses would be enough for this. So I got you this as well." He stood. Walked to her carefully, lest he spook her. "Moira?" He stared at her surprised, solemn expression. The two beers.
Moira met his gaze. Saw his guilty expression. And the lingering anger. She glanced at the fudge. "Caramel?"
He smiled. "Of course."
"Trade?"
He took one of the beers from her hand. Gave her the fudge. He was about to take the second beer when she snatched it away from his reaching hand. "Moira?"
"No. I want some of this. You can have the rest when I'm done."
"That bad?" he tried to joke, but she scowled at him.
"What do you think?"
He sighed. Opened the beer and downed half of it in long swallows. Moira stared, watching his lips around the bottle's opening. The long swallows along his throat. The tilt of his head, his jaw. He licked his lips, headed for the bed. He sat, balanced the bottle on his knee. Moira opened hers. Sipped. Grimaced at the taste.
John stood. Set the beer on the table near the bed. Stepped to her as she hadn't moved. Hadn't followed him. She set the beer on the table behind her, watching him. Her silence forcing him to speak, which irritated him. He licked his lips again. Oddly nervous. "Moira, um, look, Moira, um, look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She placed her finger on his lips, silencing him. "No! Do you know what to apologize for, John? Because unless you do I don't want to hear it." She saw the flare of annoyance in his green eyes. Ignored it. "Not for the sex." Surprise now. His brows raised slightly. "You don't have to apologize for the sex, John. Not at all. The sex was, was...astounding. I mean, you said we couldn't possibly top the sex we had at that mountain resort but I think we did. I mean, I mean, my God, John, you were so, so...so primal! Animalistic, wild..." She caught herself, coloring at his smug, amused expression. "We can talk about it later, if you don't mind, since you don't like talking to me, but you need to talk to me, John, about everything!"
He moved her hand from his mouth, said, "Any time, Moira. I will talk about sex with you any time. So I didn't hurt you?" he asked, amusement fleeing as guilt, concern surfaced.
"No. No, you didn't hurt me at all, John. Not during the sex. Despite your um, your–"
"Lust?" he supplied helpfully.
"Yeah, okay, lust...we were so turned on, so hungry for each other despite your anger, your aggression, your need, your strength and stamina you are skilled and gentle and never hurt me during sex."
He smiled. "Ah. Well, I won't ever hurt you during sex, Moira. I know exactly how far to push, how deep to enter, how fast to–"
"No, you didn't hurt me during the sex," she reiterated, cutting off his smug, teasing tone. "Only afterwards."
His amusement, arousal fled. He frowned. "Moira. I...fuck this!" He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. A long, sensual kiss as his hands caressed her back. Kept her there.
"John!" she protested softly, trying to pull free. "You need to talk to me!"
"Moira, no." He kissed her again, keeping her body pressed to his. "Moira, sweetheart, I'm so sorry! I don't know why I am so pissy, why I said those terrible things to you, treated you like just another piece of ass to fuck and fuck and then dump. Moira, please, I'm so sorry! So sorry," he murmured sincerely in her ear, her hair. Hiding his face in her hair as he pulled the band to free the long, brown tresses. He kissed her throat.
Moira hugged him suddenly. Hearing his sincerity, his guilt. His almost desperate need to soothe her. "John, John, I–"
"No! Moira, no!" he said curtly. Fiercely. Grip on her tightening. "I'm sorry, baby, so very sorry! I love you, Moira. I love you, I don't want to lose your love. I can't, I can't lose you," he said softly into her hair, her ear. "You have to understand, Moira, you have to forgive me, you just have to," he insisted earnestly. He felt a weird sorrow, a burning of unshed tears in his eyes. Blinked them back angrily. "Please, Moira, please let me make it up to you, make all of it up to you, sweetheart, I'll do anything! Anything you want. Name it. It's yours."
Moira was stunned. Shocked by his desperate need, his desperate guilt over something she couldn't imagine. Knew nothing about, but realized it was worse than the things he had said to her. Worse than not talking to her at all. She kissed him. Over and over, soothing his tension, his fears. "John, oh John, you won't lose my love. You won't lose me, whatever it is that you've done, or think you've done. Talk to me, John, please. You need to tell me. Beyond all the rest. Beyond Weir coming down on you about transferring those four fucking ex-lovers. Beyond Weir wanted the flash drive and everything on it. There's something else, isn't there?"
He stared at her. Grip gentling. "How the hell did you–"
"Yes. I talked to Weir. What else was I supposed to do, John? You wouldn't talk to me!"
He freed her. Sat on the bed, grabbing the beer. He downed it in long swallows. Tossed the now empty bottle onto the floor where it rolled. "Shit. You didn't need to know any of that! Damn it, Moira! Let's just have sex. Sex will take care of–"
"No, John, it won't! You are deflecting again! Talk to me!"
"No. We need sex, baby. No talk. Just sex. You know, Moira, there is nothing, nothing like a cold beer after an especially satisfying session of pure, uncomplicated fucking. Don't you agree?"
She sighed, not rising to the bait. "You are still deflecting."
"Damn. I'm sorry, Moira. I didn't mean, well, I did mean that, actually, but...shit. And then you go behind my back to talk to Weir!"
"I didn't go behind your back, John! How could you even say that? If you must know I saved that fine, fine ass of yours by convincing her to accept only the files we copied for Carson and Rodney. And as for those fucking four ex-lovers of yours she assumed I put you up to it but I didn't and by the way that was a very considerate thing you are doing for me. Especially when Weir will come down on you for it."
He scowled. "Yeah, well...shit. I thought you'd be pissed so I didn't want to tell you I..." He glared at the floor. Wanting to tell her. Needing to tell her. Unable. "Fuck. I'm backsliding, Moy. Like I used to be. Pushing you away so you don't see."
"Don't see what, John?" she asked, stepping closer.
"So you don't see...never mind." He stood. Stepped past her to grab the other beer. To down it in quick swallows. She turned, watching him. When the bottle was empty he tossed it carelessly onto the table. It rolled among the roses. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"John, it's not that I don't trust you. I do," she assured. "It's just...it's awkward. If I happen to run into one of them, and well, I want...I want to be the only one who knows you. Knows every inch of you, John. My John. Not theirs. Mine. I told Weir it was romantic, what you are doing for me. The transfers. And I'm sorry I hurt your feelings about not being very romantic. Because you are, John, you are. Not just with words. You are in extravagant ways, and in little ways. I do appreciate it, John, I do notice everything you do for me. With me."
He relaxed a little, although he knew how horribly awkward it would be if Susan were ever to talk to Moira. To tell her things. To reveal the indiscretion. "I,um...I do try to be...you know. I'm not good at this, Moy. Never have been. At least the, the verbal part. Now the sex. The sex I excel at, right?"
"Yes, John, you do." She wondered why he wouldn't face her. Stood staring at the table. The roses. His back to her. "And the, um, the condom fiasco. Um, look, can we please have that particular discussion later. About, about starting or even thinking about starting a...having a...I mean, I didn't mean to cut you off, cut you out of it. The decision to have or not to have a..."
"But you did," he reminded, curious at her obvious reluctance to even say the words family or baby. Much less talk about it. Feeling himself on firmer ground he turned to her.
Moira looked at her hands. "I did. You're right. I'm sorry. I was upset, I was sick at the time, but not from being, being pregnant. I think, I think we both agree now is not the time to start that but in the future, of course we could think of it. Once things calm down. I know nothing calms down in the Pegasus galaxy but you know what I mean, John. We should enjoy each other first, don't you agree? Our lives are complicated enough without adding another to them, so, so...it's not that I don't want to have your, um, your offspring, because I do, of course I do, I mean, I knew with all of the sex and then the marriage we would eventually...so, so just not now. Okay? Okay, John?"
He stared. She was close to tears. Stressed, unhappy. He was mollified by her assurances, her words. Amused she could talk about a baby without actually using the word. Wondered at that, curious. "Okay, Moira," he gently agreed.
"Thank you." Her relief was obvious. "And the, the condom...if you think you really need to use them, then okay. I'm on the pill but if you still think you need to use them I won't object any more. Just, um, just get bigger ones, would you?"
He smiled. Charmed by her flustered state. Her words. He snorted a laugh. "Wow, okay. You just made my day, Moira."
"I'm serious, John. That thing was so tight I could barely get it off you...it must have been painful to say the least."
"You have no idea, baby, but you..." He moved to her. Caught her hands in his. Caressing. "You were so gentle, so soft, so soothing...so fucking arousing I nearly came in your hands." He kissed her. Drawing her mouth to his, her face up to his. "Let's just see how it goes, shall we? Take it nice and slow with these things."
"Okay, John, I..." She colored. Sighed. The difficult part was over. Now she had to enter the minefield. "I'm sorry. It's my fault, I'm guessing. I opened the doors and I shouldn't have. And now they won't stay closed, will they? Is that what is really bothering you?"