Parasitism7
John stood in the control room, arms folded across his chest as he eyed the engaged wormhole. He glanced at Rodney who nodded. He tapped his earpiece. "Major Lorne, copy?"
"Yes, sir," floated Evan's voice across the transmission. "McKay's warning received and understood. Ford's twenty?"
"Unknown at present. Wrap up those negotiations and get Weir back here ASAP. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. We'll be doubly careful here. Orders?"
John considered. "Keep sharp, major. Sheppard out." He sliced his hand in the air.
Rodney disengaged the wormhole. Tapped the keyboard. "So...is everything okay with Moira?"
"No. Well, yes, now." John glared round at the technicians, the scientists, as if he blamed everyone in the city for not contacting him sooner. He met Rodney's gaze. "What?" he snapped.
"Nothing. I'm just glad she's okay, John. Calm down."
"Sorry. I..." Without another word he strode out of the control room.
Moira carefully, carefully swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Set them onto the floor. Tested. Felt the ache in her foot. She shakily stood. Took a step. Grimaced. Managed to limp, leaning on the beds towards the incubator. She trapped her moans behind gritted teeth. Leaned heavily on the table. Stared down at the grub encased in the pupae. Saw it wriggle. She flinched backwards, startled, nearly fell but felt a man's body behind her. Arms encircling her waist.
"The white pajamas are very cute, but shouldn't that pert little ass of yours be in bed?" John teased into her ear. He supported her weight, kissed her throat.
She smiled, leaning against him. "John. It's alive. Moving. How can that possibly be?"
"You tell me. I'm no zoologist," he reminded. "Come away, Moira."
"No, John. I want to see. I need to see."
"What? Aren't you repulsed? I am," he stated, looking away from the wriggling creature.
"Yes, of course, but, but I'm fascinated too. The scientist in me–"
"Should be in bed like the rest of you. Come away, Moira." Gently he turned her. "Can you walk?"
"Yes. Just, just don't let go, John." She clung to him.
He sighed. "You shouldn't have gotten up in the first place, Moira." He gently swung her off her feet, carried her back to set on the bed.
"John! Moira, were you out of that bed?" Carson exclaimed, rushing to them.
"I had to see it. I had to–" Moira began.
"The only thing you need to do is to rest!"
John pulled up a chair, sat near the bed as she gingerly settled. "I'll make sure she stays put, doc. You know how stubborn Moira can be."
"Me? You wrote the book on stubborn, colonel!" she retorted, but smiled.
"Yes. Yes, I did," he agreed.
"Fine. Stay an hour, then go. My patient needs her rest, not to be trading flirtatious insults with you!" Carson scolded, but he smiled.
"I'm not going anywhere," John noted. "Not until Moira's released."
"John! You can't stay the whole night!" she fondly chastised. "Whatever are you going to do? Watch me sleep?"
"Yes. It's not like I haven't done that before. Oh, and keep you on your back. It's not like I haven't done that before either," he added with a smile.
She replied, "Under different circumstances I might just welcome that, colonel, but not here. Besides, you know I can't sleep very well on my back."
"That is true," he agreed. "You'll just have to make do for now, sweetheart. So relax. Hey, doc, how long is she going to be in here?" John asked, as if just noticing the doctor.
Carson shook his head at their interplay, amused. "Another night and day at the least. Sorry, Moira. I want to be certain you are healing. And resting."
She sighed. "I'd rather be in my own bed." She looked at John who was watching her. "John, seriously, don't stay all night. Go have dinner. Then go to bed. Please. I can't sleep if I know you're going to be uncomfortable all night."
"Tough. I'm not moving. But," he amended, seeing her frown, "I will grab a bite to eat. If you stay put I'll sneak in some chips. Carson, you didn't hear that."
"Hear what?" he played along.
"Fine. But take your time, John. No need to rush."
"You always say that, Moira." He smiled, stood. "Back in a few. Don't you move."
"As ordered, colonel. And don't forget my chips!"
"How is she?"
John looked up from his half-empty plate to see Ronon towering over him. Face full of concern.
"Fine. Now."
"Good." He sat. Silent. Expectant.
"What?" asked John.
"What do you want to do?"
"Right now? Finish this and go back to see Moira. But you didn't mean that," John tiredly realized. He sighed. Ran his hands over his face. "Ford."
"Yes."
John frowned. Shrugged. Stood. "Fuck if I know."
John strolled into the infirmary. Quietly neared Moira's bed. She was fast asleep again. He sat in the chair, set the bag of chips aside. He watched her awhile. Gaze moving over her peaceful face, messy hair. The slow rise and fall of her breasts. Down to her bandaged foot. He rubbed his eyes, relieved that she was all right. Healing.
"John," a hand on his shoulder roused him hours later, "you needn't stay here. Really."
John looked from Moira to Carson. "I will. In case she awakens. I should have been here. I should have been informed the second it happened."
"I'm sorry, John, but there was no need. As I've said she was never in any real danger."
"Is that true? Then what is it that I don't need to know? Come on! You'd think I'd fall for the old Iratus bug story? Well?"
Carson sighed. "It's nothing. No," he held up a hand, "doctor patient privilege. But I swear to you that her life was never in any danger since I operated and removed that thing. Stay, if you insist, colonel, but I'm going to bed for a few hours. I'll check on you both later."
John frowned, crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Moira, full of questions, concerns. He shifted in the hard chair to get comfortable.
Moira stirred, moving. Caught in a weird dream full of sub-Wraith, Iratus bugs. John. John making love to her, sweet and slow, but suddenly speeding up as he morphed into the half-Wraith the retro virus had turned him into briefly. Thrusting hard, impregnating her with a sub-Wraith progeny that tore itself out of her.
She jerked awake, gulped and sat. Moaned as her foot ached at her sudden motion. She looked over at the chair. John was slumped forward, asleep. She stared, smiled. Moved by his stubborn persistence. His concern. Her gaze darted to the incubator. A yellowish glow in the dark. Carefully she swung her feet to the floor. Tested her weight. Stepped awkwardly to a wheeled chair. Sat and rolled herself to the containment vessel. She stared, open-mouthed.
"Damn it, Moira, why won't you stay put?" John had awakened, hearing her. He stood behind the chair, hands on the back of it to wheel her away from the thing.
"I couldn't sleep. I had a, a bad dream. Look, John! It's, it's astonishing! It's nearly tripled in size in only a few hours!" She gasped as it wriggled violently.
John pulled the chair away from it, drew his sidearm in one fluid motion. He neared, staring at the wriggling larvae sac, now the size of his hand. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "What the hell is that thing? Should it be accelerating that much?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Carson hurried to the pair. "Moira! Why aren't you in–"
"Look, Carson! It's tripled in size!"
"What?"
"That's it. I'm putting an end to this scientific experiment," John decided. He clicked the safety off his gun, aimed it. "It doesn't matter what the hell it is now that is out of Moira's foot."
"No! John, you can't!" Moira objected, moving awkwardly.
"No, John," Carson agreed. "We need to know exactly what it is! For all we know it isn't the Iratus bug or a sub-Wraith but an entirely new species of parasite we–"
"I don't care what it is! It's alive and an obvious threat!"
"John, please!" She reached up to grab his arm. "We have to know! I have to know! It's perfectly safe in the containment field, right, Carson? John, please!"
John met her pleading gaze, earnest expression. He slowly clicked the safety back into place. Lowered the gun. "All right. For now." He eyed Carson. "But you're moving that thing into the Wraith lab. It has the highest level of security. Now."
"Thank you, colonel. That's a fair compromise."
"Lock it up tight, Carson, or I will kill it," John vowed. He holstered his weapon. Touched the back of Moira's chair. "I'll take her highness here to her room so she can sleep. And I'll make sure she stays in her bed. Even if I have to tie her down."
Moira smirked, looked up at him. "Hilarious, John. Ooh...aren't you the one who likes to be tied up?"
"Hilarious, Moira. Let's go." He wheeled her out of the infirmary. "I've got something to show you. If you're not quite ready to go to sleep. Something I filmed on P1R359." He opened her door, wheeled her to the bed. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
"Cute, John, very." She watched him leave. Shakily she got out of the chair and onto the bed. She scooted up to the headboard, sat and gingerly moved her bandaged foot. Smiled as he returned, data pad in hand. "What is it?"
Wordlessly he handed her the data pad. Sat to remove his boots. "I saw them on the perimeter check. Tell me what you think."
Moira opened the pad, played the footage. Stared. Drew the screen closer to her.
John sat next to her, scooting up to sit beside her. He slipped his arm around her, watching her. Smiled at her intrigued, studious, then delighted expression. "So? Did I do good?"
"Very good!" She met his gaze. Kissed him. Snuggled against him. "Look, John!" She replayed the footage. "If I'm not mistaken those aren't ordinary wolves, not canis lupus but dire wolves! Or a descendant or a subspecies! It's definitely not canis lupus but canis dirus from the Pleistocene! Much heavier in their build and the coat is darker, see there?" She pointed at the screen, freezing the image of the animal. "They were thought to be more like scavengers than actual predators but did you see them hunting?" She looked at him suddenly. He was watching her, an amused, warm expression on his handsome face. "John? Oh, I'm sorry..." She shrugged, smiled. "Guess I should dial it down or you will fall asleep."
"No." He kissed her gently. "Never. My Moira." He kissed her again, drew the pad from her, set it aside. Stroked her hair, her arm. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'm here now. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, Moira. That won't happen again." He kissed her brow. "They should have contacted me the minute, no, the second you were in distress."
She smiled. "No, John, there was nothing you could have done. Even your overzealous protection couldn't have prevented this."
"Hmm..." he disagreed. "Still..."
She sighed, shifted slightly onto her side. Moving her foot carefully. She touched his chest. "John..." She winced. "I can't sleep just yet. Will you, will you stay a little longer?"
"I'll stay all night, Moira, don't you worry. Relax. Want to watch a movie? Hey, I know! How about Alien?"
She laughed. Hit him. "Hilarious, John!"
He smiled. "Sorry. Too soon? I couldn't resist." His hold momentarily tightened. "Moira." So much emotion in that one word.
"I'm fine, John," she soothed, hearing his worry despite his light, teasing tone. Feeling the tension in his body. His warmth, his solid concern. His love enveloping her. "Don't you worry, sweetie. I'm with you. Do you want to talk about the mission?"
"No. There's nothing to talk about. Relax, Moira." He considered. "We are testing out the new array of P90s we got in from the SGC. Specs are up to standard, past standard. They're pushing for more ammo power, which is a good thing, but what we need is more accuracy. Especially at a distance. They were using AK-47s but the range isn't that penetrating compared to the standard P90s, plus the loading clips are more durable and..." he paused. Smirked. Moira was falling asleep. "Thought that would do it," he fondly remarked.
Moira smiled as if she had heard him. She remained still, eyes closed. Relaxing into a gentle slumber. Secure. John stared at the darkness, still stroking her arm. Allowing himself to feel the anxiety, the sheer dread that he had lost her. Then the relief that he had not. He gently eased them down to a reclining position. Moira stirred, moaned when she moved her foot. She slid partially on top of him, fingers clutching at his shirt. He stroked her back, kissed her brow. Not about to let her go. He closed his eyes, keeping her close. Keeping her safe.