Parasitism6
John briskly strode into the control room. "Rodney, contact Lorne. And here," he lobbed the tracking device towards the scientist. Rodney caught it. "Disable that. I'm sure that Ford placed something on it, in it, so either disable it or destroy it."
"Where are you going? Oh, let me guess...to show your latest nature film to your zoologist girlfriend," Rodney teased.
"Nature film?" asked Teyla, puzzled.
"Yes, Mr. Nature here was filming wildlife for his girlfriend. It was very cute, really. He–"
"That's Colonel Nature, and that's enough, Rodney!" John snapped, embarrassed as Teyla smiled at him. Her amusement all too evident.
"I think it's sweet," Ronon noted, and they laughed.
John glowered. "Don't you have better things to do than to comment on my–"
"No, not really," Ronon jested.
"Ronon is correct, John. It is sweet, and thoughtful," Teyla commented.
"You should have seen the kiss he planted on her before we left," Rodney confided, but his voice was loud and carried all across the control room.
"Get that damn address!" John ordered.
"What? It's nice, John, to see you so thoughtful for once. For once thinking with your head and not your–"
"Colonel Sheppard!" interrupted a technician, cutting off Rodney's comment. "Doctor Beckett requests your presence in the infirmary. Immediately, he said."
John was scowling at Rodney, when he turned to the technician. "Immedia..." He knew. His heart skipped a beat. He sprinted out of the control room. Ran to the infirmary. He slowed, skidded to a walk seeing Moira. He neared slowly, staring. She was asleep. His gaze wandered down her body, the blankets to her bandaged foot. He gently touched her arm. Slid his fingers to her hand on the blankets.
"Don't wake her, John. She needs to rest."
He looked over as Carson neared. "Is she–"
"Fine now. There's no need to worry."
"What happened? Her foot?"
"Yes. Four days ago. I had to operate but she's fine now," Carson assured. But John's concern transformed into ire.
"Wait, back up. Four days ago? And I'm only hearing about this now? Why the hell..." he paused, lowering his voice, "why the hell wasn't I informed at once? I checked in two days ago!" he flared.
"There was no need, John. She was in no danger. It wasn't life threatening."
"You operated! Damn it, I should have been here!" he argued, voice rising again.
"Quiet! I told you, she was in no danger. She will make a full recovery."
"That's what you said the last time!" he retorted. "What was wrong? The cramping?"
"It got worse. Much worse. Excruciating. I had to remove–"
"John?" He turned as she shifted, fingers moving in his. "John?" she whispered.
"I'm here, Moira." He sat on the edge of the bed as she opened her eyes, blinking in a daze. "Remove what?" he asked, eyes never leaving her.
"John?" she asked again. She frowned, tried to sit but he eased her back.
"I'm here, Moira," he repeated. He pushed the control button, raising the back of the bed to a seated position. "Moira..." He frowned at her drugged expression. Too bright eyes and pale face. He looked at Carson. "Remove what?" he repeated.
Carson sighed. "I don't know. At first I thought it was a parasite but now..."
"A parasite? Living inside her foot?" John asked in disbelief.
"Incubating," she said. Coughed.
John turned to her. Held a glass of water for her to sip. He set it aside, caressed her fingers still in his. "Incubating? You mean like an, an insect?"
"Yes," Carson answered. "Something triggered the incubation to end. For the larvae to emerge and move."
John winced, but schooled his expression. "And she's all right now? You removed all of it?"
"Yes, John. She's perfectly fine now," the doctor assured.
"I want to see it." Moira's voice was calm. Steady.
John's startled gaze swung back to Moira. "What? You..." He eyed Carson. "You're telling me it's still here? Alive?"
"Yes. Not right now, Moira. You need to rest," Carson insisted.
"Wait, wait, it's still alive?" John repeated, stunned. "What the hell is it?" He glanced around the room, not knowing what to expect.
"I don't bloody know," Carson admitted. Shoulders sagging almost in defeat.
"Sub-Wraith proteins," Moira said softly, gaze locked on John. Her fingers tightening on his.
He looked back at her. "What? But, but how? That was months ago! How..."
"I don't know," Carson repeated. "Somehow the attack resulted in an implantation that was dormant until–"
"You didn't let go," Moira said, tears in her eyes. "John, John, if you had let go..." She shuddered at the possibilities.
He caressed her hand. "I'll never let go, Moira. Never. You're safe." He looked at Carson. "So what the hell triggered it?"
Carson shrugged. "I'm not certain," he hedged, having his suspicions but keeping them to himself for now.
"Is it a sub-Wraith?"
"No...it's more like an insect at the moment."
"The Iratus bug?" John scowled, suppressed a grimace. "Right? Those damn things weren't on that planet though..."
"Enzyme," Moira said. Looked at Carson, eyes widening. "That...endorphins...same..."
"Could be the trigger, yes," Carson reluctantly agreed. "I'm sorry."
John looked from one to the other. "Whoa, what? What? I hate it when you do that! Care to clue in the guy who's not in on the psychic link?"
Moira shifted in the bed, moaned. "It still hurts, Carson," she complained, changing topics. Suddenly embarrassed. Nervous.
Carson smoothly followed suite. "It will for a few days, love, maybe even weeks. I should take a look at it. John, could you give us some privacy, please?"
"What? Why? I've seen her foot, Carson," John objected. Stubbornly not moving.
Moira freed his hand, causing him to turn to her. "Please, John...you don't need to see more scars...and I don't want you see them like this...so, so raw..."
"All right, Moira. For you. I'll be over there." He leaned close, gently kissed her lips. Stood. Wandered across the infirmary, with several glances until he turned his back on them.
"Thank you," she said to Carson, voice falling softly. "If we're right...I mean...he doesn't need to know. He'll blame himself and it's not his fault. It's no one's fault. It never showed up in any scan, did it?"
"No, it didn't. It was microscopic, buried in your tissue." He hesitated. "I hate to ask this, but as you know the enzyme's properties include an increase in endorphin levels and the hormonal surges...and since you are not on the enzyme, nor is John...you've been having a significant increase in your...er...levels..." Carson nearly blushed, moved to gently unwrap her foot.
Moira blushed. Licked her lips, staring at her foot as the doctor removed the heavy gauze. "Um...yes. A...significant increase in...those particular levels...um...in frequency and..." Her voice trailed into a guilty silence.
"I see. That very well could have been the trigger." Carson eyed the fresh cuts made by his scalpel, the stitches crisscrossing the older scars. He turned her foot this way and that, making her bite her lip to suppress her grunt of pain. He procured a fresh bandage, wrapped it. "It looks better today. But it will take time to heal. Don't get it wet, and you need to stay off it."
John turned to view them, hearing her slight, muffled moan. Saw her flustered expression, rosy face. Saw a glimpse of harsh red cuts and stitches on her scarred foot before Carson wrapped it. Heard their quiet voices. Wondered what had embarrassed her. Besides her foot.
"Carson, don't tell him. John doesn't need to know," Moira advised.
"John doesn't need to know what?" John asked, joining them. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand into his again. "Moira?"
She hesitated, looked across the room. "I want to see it. Carson, please. I need to see it."
"All right," Carson reluctantly conceded.
What don't I need to know?" John persisted. "Carson, she's going to be all right, isn't she?"
"She will be fine, John. We were just talking about the Iratus bug and we both know how you hate that particular subject," Carson smoothly lied, wheeling over a glass case on a trolley. A florescent bulb shone harshly on the swathed interior.
Moira stared, a gasp escaping her lips. Her hold on John's hand tightened. "My God..."
John stared in mute disgust. A slight movement caused him to flinch. The wiggling whitish pupae sac was the size of his thumb. "What the hell is that? You said a sub-Wraith? That came out of Moira's foot?"
"Yes. When I removed it the thing was the size of her pinkie toe. It's growing," Carson gravely remarked.
"It's doubled in size?" Moira asked. She leaned forward, moving but paused as her foot ached. John's hold on her hand tightened. "I don't believe it!"
"Take it away," John ordered. He turned back to Moira as Carson wheeled it across the room. "It's all right, honey. It's out of you now. Carson, why the hell didn't that show up in any of your scans?" he demanded.
"It's not his fault, John," she soothed.
"It was too small. Indistinguishable from her soft tissue, and inert," Carson explained. "Moira, you need to rest."
"No. I...no, no more sedatives, Carson, please! I feel like I'm wrapped in wool. I can't focus."
"As long as you rest. And sleep," Carson admonished.
"Oh! John!" She drew his attention back to her. "What happened? Ford...did you–"
"No. He wasn't there. Nor were his men. I'm fine," he added to her concern.
"Colonel Sheppard to the conference room," a voice announced over the comm.
"Go, John. Moira needs to rest. You can see her afterwards," Carson encouraged.
"Go on, John, I'm fine," she assured. "Now that you're back." She glanced at the floor where he had set his gun. "You can take your P90 too. That's a bit of an overkill for that grub, isn't it?"
He smiled. "Moira." He leaned close, kissed her. "I'll be back ASAP. I promise. I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"It's all right, John. There's nothing you could have done," she soothed.
He kissed her again. "Get some sleep." He stood, taking his gun. "If there's any change you will page me," he said sternly. Looked at Moira again. Left.
Moira settled back, shifted. Winced. "You won't tell him, will you, Carson? About the, the trigger?"
"No. There's no need. Actually it was probably a good thing it was triggered that way. Otherwise it may have taken weeks for that...grub to work its way up your leg, feeding. It could have killed you, Moira."
She paled, but smiled. "So you're saying that–"
"Yes, frequent, vigorous sex with John was a very good thing."
"A very good thing. You have no idea how good," she gushed. They quietly laughed.