Rogue Element5
Stars twinkled. A crescent moon rose, giving little illumination. Blackness swathed the land. The only sound was the incessant noise of the waterfalls. Crashing and churning over the rocks. Pooling in the mosses and grasses. Dripping from the mouth of the cave where Sheppard stood.
Staring out at the quiet night. He relaxed, holstered his gun. Satisfied. He lifted a pair of night goggles and once more surveyed the rough terrain. Bathing the darkness in harsh green tones. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Only the water pounded, pounded.
He turned. Moira was huddled by a tiny fire. Clothes damp, like his. Skin and hair wet, like his. She nibbled on a piece of fruit, reluctant but having no choice. He licked his lips, recalling the pleasing taste of the succulent flesh. Sustenance. But like the water and everything else on the planet it was infused with the enzyme. There was no avoiding it. Already he had felt the surge of it in his body, as they had been climbing and evading capture for nearly two days now. Chancing upon this hiding place at last.
"Moira," he rasped, "how well can those things see in the dark?"
Moira started, lost in her own thoughts. Worries. Worrying about John. About the inevitable effects of the enzyme on Sheppard. On herself. Hoping they had worked most of it out with all the duress of evasion, of retreat. "Better than us...but not as well as a Wraith. Their sense of smell will be keener. Colonel, do you know how Ford altered their development? Obviously they were infected by the unfinished retro-virus, with a Wraith genome like John, like you were. But their development into a full Wraith was halted. As was yours. Instead of being cured they are permanently stuck in that phase. Two Wraith genetic codes, one human. Highly unstable. Unless Ford found a way to control them."
"I don't know. He was trying. I copied his research onto a flash drive, along with all of ours. For you." He removed the goggles. Neared her quietly. Gaze roving over her damp clothing clinging to her body. Her huddled position. Hair messily snaking down her back. She appeared forlorn. Vulnerable. A smile darted across his lips.
Moira felt him towering over her. His eyes on her. She hunched, as if by making herself smaller she could avoid his notice. His interest. She felt a shiver as the chill wrapped around her. "I'll take the first watch, colonel. You should rest. You need to rest now."
He smiled. Stepped closer to see the goose bumps on her bare arms. "No need. We're safe here." He moved and sat back against the wall of the cave, facing the entrance. "Moira. Come here. For warmth. I won't hurt you."
"You, you hurt John." Nevertheless she moved stiffly to him. Sat near.
He pulled her against him, arm wrapping around her. Pressing her body against his. "You gave me no choice. No. He gave me no choice. Sit," he ordered as she tried to move. "As I recall, that particular state of mutation is faster, stronger. But unable to feed like a Wraith."
"Yes." She sat stiffly, trying not to press her body into his. To not have her breasts pushed against his side. To not feel his warmth against the cold. To not remark on the similarities to her John. To focus on the differences. As the same time she knew her best chance of survival was with him. That she couldn't antagonize him.
"Hmm. So they'll be hard to take down. We've got limited ammo. Limited options." He rubbed her arm up and down. Thinking. Feeling the press of her soft body on his. Also her reluctance. "Ford will have them form a perimeter to ensnare us. We'll have to stay one or two steps ahead of him. I don't think I can kill all of them. It takes several shots to bring one down, let alone several."
"So we elude. Evade. Until help arrives," she stated. Glancing at him. His handsome face in profile. Mussed dark hair. Scruffy jaw shadowed by a the beginnings of a beard now. Full lips framed by the dark, coarser hair.
"Yeah. Piece of cake." He met her gaze. "They'll wait for sunrise. No need to take unnecessary risks to find us. They have the advantages." He touched her cheek. "Moira, you probably just cost us both our lives."
"It had to be done, colonel," she stated simply. Unapologetic.
"He means that much to you?" he asked quietly.
"Yes." She stared at the darkness. Moved free of him suddenly. Stepped to the fire. She hugged herself. "I'll take first watch."
"I told you, there's no need." He stood. Assessing. "It's time."
She tensed. Not needing to ask. She stared at the tiny fire. The yellow flames fighting against the cold air. The dampness.
He stepped to her. Touched her shoulders. A firm yet gentle grasp. "Anything, you said. Willingly," he reminded. Voice low, rasping over her skin.
She closed her eyes, opened them. "So I did."
"I won't hurt you, Moira. I am your husband, after all." His fingers caressed.
"No. He is. You are not."
He smiled. Said into her ear, "Think of it as science, Moira. Aren't you curious? How different it will be with me? Or will it be the same? What will be different? Hmm? Texture? Taste?" He ran his mouth along her throat. Tongue flicking her earlobe.
Moira felt a shiver, an involuntary tightening. She turned to him, breath catching in her throat. So like John it hurt. Yet not. The handsomeness marred by tragedy, by loss. By endless war. His green eyes smouldered with warmth, with lust as he studied her. Saw her sorrow, her unhappiness. A stab of jealousy made his gaze darken a little. She lowered her gaze. "Colonel...I...please...I can't...you...you..."
He lifted her face to his. "You will call me John. Oh John." He kissed her. A slow, savoring motion of his mouth on hers. His lips dancing along hers. Moving. Persuading hers to open, to part and allow his tongue entrance. To guide hers along his. As he moved her now, slowly, slowly to align her body with his. To press her softness and curves against his harder, leaner frame.
He guided them to the ground. Kept kissing her. Moving her onto her back as his hand slid up, up to clasp a breast. "Moira...oh Moira. I had to see you again. In a way I'm glad you weren't there, when Atlantis fell. I couldn't bear to have lost you again. Knowing you were here, in your Atlantis, safe, it made my job easier. Knowing you were alive. You don't know what that means to me, Moira."
"Colonel...John, please...I'm married to, to John," she tried to refute. Pushing him back from her but her hands were gentle. Part of her curious despite herself.
"To me. A version of me. Ah..." He stroked her cheek, her hair. Body shifting on hers. "He'll never forgive you, is that it? I wouldn't. But he would. He's like a better version of me, isn't he? In many ways we are the same."
"In many ways you are not," she argued. "Colonel...you...you..."
"Call me John," he reminded, kissing her.
Moira felt tears. Knew she needed him. Knew her survival depended upon him. Knew her sympathy could overwhelm her. So like John. Yet not. She recalled her John wounded, fighting to save her. Appalled at what she had done to save him. But Sheppard's anguish was far too evident. Every time he looked at her. All of the losses he had borne, starting with the loss of his Moira, ending with the loss of Atlantis.
Sheppard ran his mouth down her throat. Tasting her. Wanting her. So like his Moira, yet not. Not that the differences mattered to him anymore. She was here, alive, his, and that was all he cared about. He moved. Shoved up her shirt, her bra. Gazing on her bare breasts, fondling. Kissing but he drew back. Fingered the two rings on the chain. Gold glints on her skin. "I still can't believe you married him. Me. I mean...do you have any idea what you married?"
She stared, hand on his arm, shifting despite herself. Her body responding all too willingly, not caring which John it was, only that it was John. A version of John. "What?"
Sheppard kissed her. Ran his mouth along her breasts, shoving aside the two rings. Ignoring them as he gently nibbled, sucked each one, teasing the nipples to harden in his mouth. Moira squirmed, fingers in his hair. Trying not to react, not to arch into him. His beard was rough on her skin. His tongue rough. He freed her, slid up to catch her mouth again. Tasted tears, sorrow. Drank all of it in. He moved to undo her pants. Unzip. "He never told you, did he?" He yanked down the pants. Yanked them off one leg. Ran his hand up her bare thigh. Her legs parted but she shut them, embarrassed. He smiled. Fingered her panties. "He didn't tell you. About mom."
She froze, tensing. "No." A soft word. A single word. Her mind working furiously over the endless possibilities. Wondering. But refusing to ask. She grasped his arm. His fingers were prying now, playing against the fabric. A little roughly. Insistent. Arousing.
"Interesting," he said. Met her gaze suddenly. "You have no idea, then. How close we are. Him and I...practically the same. Except for one big difference, that is. You. Sweet Moira..." He tugged the panties down, down. Off one leg. Undid his pants, shorts.
Moira heard the zipper. Knew what was coming. Tensed. Could feel his erection pressing on her thigh, so hard, so eager. "I...I don't believe you..."
"Oh, you will. You see, I know." He pushed her thighs apart. "So fucking sweet," he muttered, a raw edge in his voice that made her shiver. "I know. About James."
Moira gasped. His words a shock, more so than his sudden thrust inside her. She grabbed, whimpered as he groaned, growled. Began to thrust repeatedly. Oddly gently as the pleasure built, built. Her tension only feeding his hunger, his lust.
He slowed, slowed to feel every part of her. She wasn't quite ready, not quite slick enough to encompass all of him, but it only made it better. Rougher. Hotter. He met her gaze. Caught her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head. Causing her to arch a little, just a little and he thrust a little harder, deeper. "Yes. She told me. Some. Not all. Enough." He thrust harder, deeper. Enjoying the physical pleasure as much as her shock.
Moira stuttered, squirming. Tears blurred her vision. "I...I...colonel, colonel, John, John, John," she stammered, not knowing if she meant the man she had married or the man thrusting into her now. She tried to free her wrists but he held them firmly in place, body taking hers, joining with hers in an almost leisurely sexual act. But leaving no doubt as to who was in control.
"And I told her. A little. About the loss. All of it, Moira. You and I are so much alike, in that. The loss. Even more than you and him. Because I lost her. You lost James. I never thought I could endure another or worse one, after mom...and then the rest. Afghanistan. The Antarctic. Here. Until you. Until I lost her...then you..."
"I'm not her, colonel, er, John..." she amended, seeing a flash of anger. "I'm not–"
"No, and I'm not him, but here we are, Moira. I've lost everything, well, nearly so. The city. I'll not lose you again."
"I'm not yours to lose, John. I'm his. His!"
"No. No longer." He grunted, thrust harder, faster. As if he could make her acquiesce to him. Agree to be his. Wanting her. Needing her.
Moira clung, rocking with him. Soft sounds escaped her lips. Shock and dismay chilling her passion, her pleasure. His motions rough but not painful. She felt an odd relief when the climax came and went, a brief spark that was drowned under his own demands. As he shuddered, pounding into her with a strained, last rush to orgasm.
"Moira! Moira, Moira, Moira! Fuck!" He moaned, collapsed on her. Hid his face on her chest. His body jerking with the last of release. His breathing heavy, labored. Choked by emotion he was silent. Closed his eyes to concentrate on the feel of her. The taste of her. The scent of her.
Moira heard his sorrow, even through his pleasure. Possession. A silent sob racked his frame. She felt tears running down her face. He freed her wrists. She stroked his back, his hair. Winced as pain bloomed on her side where she had been hit. His weight pressing down on it, but he seemed oblivious. "John," she whispered. Kissed his brow.
She stared at the rocky ceiling. Not sure if she had been unfaithful or not. It was still John, but not John. She could feel herself breaking, dissolving, but forced it all down, away. Knew that this John would not be as sympathetic as the other. Although she wondered how sympathetic her John would be now.
Sheppard collected himself. Calmed. Lifted his head and kissed her. Slow, seductive kisses, tasting her tears again. He slid out of her, shifted his weight as she winced. Only just remembering he moved off her, touched her side where a purplish bruise was forming. "Oh. I forgot about..."
"He wouldn't have," she softly remarked, still staring at the rocky ceiling.
He scowled, but turned her face to view his. "You think my better nature would have come out and curbed my desire for you? I'm not that good a man, Moira. Not any more. Too much has been taken from me. Starting with you. I understand that loss, now, like no one else can. Not even him." He touched her hair. Drew his fingers down to caress her cheek, her jaw. Her throat. Touches gentle. But she shivered anyway.
"You're wrong. He...he'll understand...and he, he will love me anyway. As I love him."
He smiled. "You think so? I'm not so sure, Moira. It's not the same, is it? As horrendous as it was, as culpable as I was, as he was...it's not the same as losing you. As you losing James. And I suspect there was more to it. I saw that guilt in her eyes when she told me a little of it. So yes, you and I...we understand loss like no other can. Not even him."
"He...he'll understand it now, if you keep me from him. And I won't let you do that to him." She pushed his hand away, but he moved closer, half on her. Hand running along her bare thigh.
"No, colonel. You had what you wanted."
He kissed her. "Yes, Moira, I did. So sweet...and yes, you denied me and yourself but you won't be able to do that for long."
"John will come for me," she stubbornly asserted, even as his fingers played against her again. As his mouth wandered along her throat. "Or send Evan. A full team."
"And then what? You think I care? You think I'll just let you go? My better nature died a long time ago, Moira." He slid down her body, kissing, tasting. Teasing. "Again, Moira. And this time you will come along with me. And then...hmm...maybe I'll take you from behind and in that waterfall. Or is that too kinky for you?"
She sighed, pushing at him. "Some things never change," she muttered.
He laughed. Moved off her and stood. Fixing his clothes. He crossed to the waterfall, peered out beyond it. "Let's go. We should move under the cover of darkness. Circle round and try to reach the ship. With any luck we can walk right through their perimeter and they won't even know it."
Moira stared, relieved. She scrambled into her clothes, biting back her emotions. She moved to him, stumbled back as he turned to her suddenly. "Colonel?"
He smiled. "John. Call me John, Moira. After all...we are married, aren't we?"