Camouflage11
John stood in the control room. Arms folded across his chest. Staring at nothing. Trying to stem his increasing impatience. Irateness. Fury. Three weeks had passed since the Daedalus had taken Moira away from him. Had taken her to safety. To Earth. Nothing had happened. The only good thing was that he had plenty of time to formulate his plan down to the tiniest detail.
But the waiting was excruciating. Getting on his nerves every day. Every night. All missions suspended. All forward planning halted. The absence of Moira like an itch he couldn't scratch. Especially at night ,when he was sprawled in their bed. Alone. He only had memories to calm him. To console him. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
"Sheppard!" Rodney called, seated at a console. "I think I've got something!"
John broke from his brooding. Moved to Rodney's side. Stared hard at the screen. "This better not be another false alarm," he warned.
"It's not. There! An energy spike in the ocean. In the grid where the anomaly occurred. It's been opened," Rodney announced. Glanced at his friend. John's expression was dour.
"How much time?"
"Wait...there!" Rodney's gaze returned to the screen. "It's closed. About five minutes to reach the surface, five to fly to the city."
"Let me know the second you detect a scan on our frequencies." John tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds. Delta execute."
"Yes, sir!" Jason's voice sounded over the unit.
"Lorne, execute!"
"In position, sir," Evan replied.
John could almost relax now that it was finally happening. His darker self was finally here. "Carson, get ready."
"I'm ready, John," the doctor assured over the earpiece. "Don't worry. I was quite the actor in my college days and–"
"Stick to the script. No improv," John chided. "Radio silence, doc."
"Scanning now!" Rodney announced.
John nodded. "Dial."
Rodney input an address. The chevrons on the Stargate lit one by one. Even though the room was empty. No team stood by to enter the wormhole as the KAWOOSH exploded outwards.
John watched the even horizon shimmer and hold. "Let's go! If he hasn't come here that bastard must be back on M1K436. Ronon, take point! I've got the six. Let's head out!" John waited. Gestured. Rodney shut down the wormhole. John clapped him on the shoulder. "We're on. Wait for me in the Jumper like we discussed. I'll come to you."
"Okay, um...how will I know you are you and not him?" Rodney asked, brows furrowing in anxiety. "I mean, what if he's got on the same clothes?"
John glanced down at his black outfit. Deliberately chosen. He rolled his eyes, held up this left hand to display his wedding ring. The gold band twinkled in the light.
"Oh. Yeah. Right."
"And I'm better looking," John quipped. "See ya." Before Rodney could acerbically comment John sprinted to his destination.
Carson checked his watch for the third time. "It's been nearly an hour. Maybe this was another false alarm."
"I don't think so," Evan replied. He was reclining in one of the beds, looking like a patient. Concealing his gun under the blankets. He glanced at the doorway, hearing the distinctive sound of boots. "Heads up, doc," he warned.
"What? Oh..." Carson turned back to his research, pretending to be busy, but was intensely curious about this dark side version of John. He heard the footsteps approaching, approaching. Entering the medical bay. He casually turned. "Back already from M1K436, colonel?" he asked mildly, masking his interest, knowledge as his gaze noted both the startling similarities and the telling differences. The haggard appearance. The bitter anger and sullenness.
Sheppard stood in the infirmary, looking at Carson. Wary. "Yes, Carson," he rasped. "Bastard wasn't there either. Do you have the formula?"
"No. I gave it to Moira. She wanted to go over it again in the biology lab. I know you don't like it, John, but she feels a strange obligation."
"I see." He whirled, paused. Staring at Evan who was pretending to be reading a paper. He walked over to the younger man. About to speak.
"John...tell me, how could he do that?"
Sheppard turned to eye the doctor, as Evan lowered the paper, giving Carson an admonishing look as he wandered off the script. "Excuse me?"
"How could you, I mean how could he do that to our Moira? Make her deliberately ill like that? Even a microbe more of that toxin and there could have been serious consequences."
Sheppard glowered. "I imagine it was necessary. The only way to test it and perfect it. But that still doesn't excuse what he did to her," he added, as if remembering the role he was playing. He turned back to Evan. "Lorne."
"Nothing excuses that," Carson persisted, ignoring the expression on Evan's face as Sheppard once more turned to him. "I know that you would never do anything to harm her. But him...this other version of you did. And you believe he can justify that in the name of–"
"War, Carson! They are at war and losing. Extreme measures must be taken to ensure the very survival of–"
"The end justifies the means? As I recall, John, you disagreed with that, as did I. Remember the Hoffans? Can you honestly say that you could condone his actions given what he's facing in that reality? Would you do that to Moira?"
Sheppard glared. Evan tensed, hand sliding to his gun, berating the doctor in his head for going way off the script, off the plan. Carson stood, waiting for an answer. Angry. Not intimidated at all by this darker version of John. "Yes," he simply replied. Turned once more to the major. "Lorne," he said curtly.
"Colonel. Doc says the leg will take another week to heal."
"Oh? Well, take it easy. It's um...it's good to see you. Recovering, I mean." The sight of an alive Evan seemed to throw him, but only for a moment. He looked back at Carson, eyes narrowing slightly as if a suspicion was forming. But the doctor had turned back to his microscope, seemingly oblivious. Sheppard strode out of the room.
Evan released the breath he had been holding. He got out of the bed, gun in hand. "Think he bought it?"
Carson joined him. "I think so. It's...uncanny."
"I'd say creepy, but uncanny works too. And what the hell was that? You weren't supposed to wander off the script!"
"Sorry. I just had to ask. Had to know."
John waited, biding his time. Trusting his plan would work. Reminding himself that Moira was safe on Earth, far from any danger. He clasped his P90 comfortably, felt the stun gun at his hip. Crouched in the shadows of the empty bio lab. Waited. Waited. He smiled, hearing boots clomping on the floor, heading in his direction.
Sheppard entered the room, pausing. "Moira?"
"She's not here. But I am." John stepped out of the shadows, gun raised, aiming at the same time as Sheppard mimicked his actions. The two men glared at each other.
"Where is she?" Sheppard barked.
"Oh, some place you will never, never find her," John taunted.
"I'll find her, Johnny. I'll search the whole galaxy if I must."
John was still smiling. "You might find her...if she was still in this galaxy. Good thing she's not."
"What? You...you sent her to Earth," Sheppard realized. Disbelief. Outrage. Fury. "You sent Moira to Earth for, for months...months of..." Sheppard aimed his weapon directly at John's head. Finger stroking the trigger.
John was still smiling. "Yes. I gave her up to keep her safe. To keep her out of your hands I will leave her on Earth forever, you sadistic son of a bitch! I'd rather live without her than have her fall into your hands again!" John let his emotion bleed through. Not all of it feigned.
Sheppard stared, a murderous fury in his narrowed eyes. "You actually gave her up. You fucking bastard! I should kill you now."
"You could, but then you would never get your precious formula. Yes, I have it."
"Give it to me!"
"Oh, sorry, I should have clarified. I don't have it with me," John stalled, moving closer, moving to the right. Sheppard matched his movements. "But I'll give it to you if you surrender. And get the hell out of my city."
"Give it to me now or I will kill you. And everyone who doesn't comply."
"See, you were always terrible at negotiating. Don't you remember that?"
"I'll just kill you now, Johnny."
"No, you won't. Would you deprive Atlantis of a Sheppard? Oh, that's right, you lost your city, didn't you? And now you've lost Moira. Again. My Moira. And I've lost her too, so please, go ahead. Kill me. I don't want to turn into you."
Sheppard smiled. "Turn into me? You are me, Johnny-boy. You can pretend all you want, but you are me and I am you. You are this close," he held up his fingers, inches apart, "from me. One more loss will tip the scales. The question is who? Maybe Moira...except she's gone, isn't she? Gone for good."
"Safe from you. That's all that matters," John argued, stepping a little closer. "Maybe I should kill you, you fucking son of a bitch. For how you used her."
"You won't kill me. I may have lost my city but the survivors still need me. You can't have an Atlantis without a Sheppard, right?" he taunted, throwing John's own words back at him. "But I guess you can without a Moira. It must be killing you, John, to know she loved me."
"She never loved you!"
"Of course she did, because I'm you. Why else did she give herself to me? Freely, of her own will, her own choice? I'm going to make you pay for taking her from me," he vowed.
"Focus, colonel," John advised, shunting aside his own fury at the taunting words. "Do you want the formula or not? Do you want to win the war, save your people, or carry out a personal vendetta against me?"
"It's not like we haven't been down this road before, have we, Johnny? Disregarding orders to pursue a personal cause. Of course we wound up getting people killed, didn't we?"
John glared. "Do you want the fucking formula or not?"
"Did you ever tell her, Johnny?" Sheppard continued. "Did you ever tell Moira about our own darkness? All the lives you have lost, were responsible for only to get them killed? Did you tell her about them? About mom?"
"Shut up!" John nearly pulled the trigger. Restrained himself. "If you want that fucking formula you will come with me, now!"
"Of course you didn't. You should have seen the surprise when I mentioned mom. She had no clue. And apparently she's never told you about her dead fiancee, since I know more than you. Moira will never look at you in the same way, will she? Once she learns the truth. No, our sweet Moira would be disgusted, despite her own guilt."
"No. You're wrong. She will understand, as I will understand whatever she's done. You don't know her like I do."
Sheppard laughed. A cold, harsh sound. Containing no merriment. "Is that so? I know her better than you ever will, Johnny, and despite that, despite what she's done she will look at you differently once she learns about you. The real you. It doesn't matter anyway. You sent her away. You dumped her. You took her from me."
John dove as the shot rang out, the bullet barely missing his temple. "Shit!" He rolled but his gun was ripped from his hands, nearly breaking his fingers in the process. He leapt to his feet but the colonel was faster. Slamming his fist into John's face. John spun with the blow, spitting blood and followed through, slamming his body into the colonel's and savagely elbowing his gut. "Is this how you want it?" he snarled.
"Yes!" Sheppard stood, wiping blood off his lip. "I want you dead."
"Then you will never get the formula, because it is all in here." John tapped his forehead. "I won't give it to you until you leave my city!"
"Son of a bitch!" Sheppard flared. Lunged and punched.
John swerved, blocked, kicked but a lower punch caught his side. He fell to his knees as pain exploded. "Had enough of kicking my own ass?" he weakly asked. A fist slammed into his jaw, shoving him to the floor.
"Have you? You lost Moira, Johnny! You lost her! Like all the rest! She may as well be dead to me! If you are able to go back for her she may be long gone or dead! Dead like all the rest! You failed to protect her, Johnny! Like Afghanistan! Like Antarctica! Like mom!" He punctuated each savage word with a savage kick.
"Just finish it, then," John said hoarsely, spitting blood. Body an explosion of pain. Guilt made manifest. As if the guilt and darkness within him was finally set free into a physical form. To kill him.
"No. That's what you want. To be free of the guilt once and for all." He squatted next to him, sneering. "Isn't that right, Johnny-boy? To stop torturing yourself day after day? To stop pretending you're just this easy-going, don't give a damn, reckless, womanizing, charming hero? To finally stem the dark voices in the recesses of your mind? Of my mind? I had that once. With Moira. Until she died."
"Until you killed her," John muttered, hand sliding down slowly to the holster at his hip.
"Yes. She begged me to do it, you know. You would have done the same. You will, one way or another. Because that's how it always ends, isn't it? Maybe, just maybe she'll be safe without you. If you give her up completely she could have a normal, less dangerous life, couldn't she? Live her life on Earth far from all of this. Out of danger. Happy. Safe. Or not. Maybe she won't be able to forget you. She will become lost without you. Miserable. Dejected. And when she needs you the most, needs you at her worst you won't be there. You won't be there and she will be easy prey, won't she? Just like mom."
John saw the kick coming as Sheppard stood. The boot aiming right for his face as the words cut deeper than any knife. He snatched the stun gun, rolled, drew, shot repeatedly even as his arm screamed with the action.
The colonel staggered, surprised. Fell in a wave of blue energy. John fell back, exhausted, in pain, in agony of mind, but forced himself to his feet. Spit out more blood. He tapped his earpiece. Adjusted it but found it snapped in pieces when he touched it. It fell to the floor. Useless. "Fuck!" He limped to the comm unit but stopped. Limped back to the prone body. Felt a rage and hatred so strong he could taste it like bile in his throat. Hatred of the colonel. Hatred of himself.
He kicked. Had to release some of the fury, the guilt. "Fucker! Fucker! Fucker!" he shouted, voice raw. Kicking ruthlessly at the inert form. Stopping himself before he killed his darker self. He looked at his wedding ring. It was covered in blood. Unrecognizable. Moira. Safe on Earth. Waiting for him. Trusting in him. He removed the ring. Carefully, so carefully wiped it clean on his shirt. Wiped off the blood until the gold was clear. He replaced it onto his finger. Began to half drag, half haul the colonel to the Jumper bay.