Rogue Element6
John fought his way through a heaviness, a dizziness. "Moira's safe on Atlantis," he muttered, trying to move. His limbs felt like lead. A dull ache marred his leg. His side. His jaw. A headache colored his thoughts. Two pinpoints of pressure at his temples. He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. Too heavy. He moved his arm and it felt stiff. Tight.
He became still, hearing voices. They were fuzzy, indistinct. Unidentifiable. He couldn't sort them. They ran together. Sifting like his blurred memories. Nothing made sense. Atlantis. Concussion. Stargate. Reynolds. Jumper three. Ford. Subcutaneous tracking device cut brutally from his arm. Protocols. Taken off-planet. Hybrids. Moira.
"Moira's safe in Atlantis," he muttered, finding the one word that made any sense to him. But he frowned. Something was wrong. Something, but it eluded him. Slipped from his mind as other disjointed images filled it. The name Moira again. "Moira's safe in Atlantis," he muttered.
Carson watched him, shaking his head. He sighed. "It may be another day, even two. I've done what I can. The rest is up to him."
Elizabeth nodded. "At least he's alive. And safe with us."
"I just wish he would wake up," Rodney said. Frowning. "What kind of hell did Ford put him through? The device was cut out of his arm?"
"Yes, brutally. I've replaced it and stitched up the damage," Carson noted. Scowling. "Not to mention the gunshots, but those were not serious. He's lost a lot of blood but recovering quickly. The main concern is the concussion. Not to mention what he endured at Ford's hands."
"Those marks on his temples?" Elizabeth guessed. She folded her arms across her chest. "You think they did something to him?
"An experiment? Or, or torture?" Rodney asked, horrified. He stared at his friend in dismay.
"Maybe both. I detected an odd toxin in his bloodstream but his own antibodies broke it down. He's in no danger from that."
"He'd die before he gave up anything."
All turned as Ronon crossed the room. Eyed his friend. They all returned their gazes to John.
Carson gently ushered them out of the room. Turned back and checked the dripping IV. Stared down at his patient. Noting the bruises on his face. The cut above his eye. He saw John's lips moving, but no sound was audible. Curious, he leaned closer. "John? John, can you hear me?"
John struggled. The weight was oppressive. He tried to move, but it was like being caught in molasses. Or caramel. A ghost of a smile came and went at the odd thought. Memories of Moira flitted. "Moira. Moira's safe in Atlantis," he whispered. Determined to resist any mind probing. Steeling himself for the flash of pain he knew was coming. Except it didn't.
"John, are you awake? Can you hear me, colonel?" Carson leaned closer. Touched the other man's shoulder.
John inwardly jerked. Memories flooded. The colonel. His darker self. As if his guilt and lust and anger and everything dark had found form in a living, breathing doppelganger A version of himself. A version who wanted Moira. "No. Moira's safe in Atlantis," he muttered.
"No. No, she isn't, John. Do you remember what happened to Moira?"
"Moira. Moira's safe in Atlantis."
"No, John, she's not! John?" Carson gently shook him. "Can you hear me?"
John blearily opened his eyes. Blinked. Blinked against the harsh light. He groaned. Muscles ached. Were sore, tense. Pain thudded in his head, his leg, his side, his arm. A hundred complaints as the heaviness sloughed off him. He stared at the familiar face. The kind blue eyes. Uncomprehending for a moment. "Carson?" The name finally entered his mind.
Carson smiled. "Yes, John. Welcome back, colonel."
"I...ow. Ow!" He moved his arm, his legs. "What the hell happened to me?"
"We were hoping you could tell us," Carson chided, adjusting the pillows as John tried to sit. "No, John. Don't move. You need to take it slow, all right?"
"How, how long have I been–"
"Two days. You've been out two days, John."
"Crap." He closed his eyes a moment.
"What happened to Moira, John?"
"Moira. Moira's safe in Atlantis," he automatically repeated.
"No, John. She's not. Your doppelganger took her. Can you remember anything?"
"Moira's safe in..." John's eyes flew open as memory flooded. Almost a physical sensation as the images played fast in his brain. "Moira! Moira, I have to–" he nearly bolted out of the bed but Carson pushed him down. Hands braced on his shoulders.
"Easy, John! First tell me what you can remember."
"No! Moira! She's in danger! She's with him, Carson! The dark side me to save me she..." He grabbed Carson's arm. Anguish engulfed him. He sank back. "He's taken her. Taken her through the anomaly. She...she's gone. She's gone, Carson. She's..." His voice broke.
"Easy, John. If he came through an anomaly I'm sure Rodney can find a way to follow after them," Carson soothed. He turned to the heap of John's tattered, bloody clothes.
"You don't understand, Carson. He...he's taken her. Through an anomaly that, that's on...M1K436...and only he can open it, with some, something in the ship...I can't quite remember..." He felt his gut clench. "She...she went with him, but I fought him. She made a deal to save me...to...she went with him. To save me. I fought him, but I think I kicked my own ass again...God, I'm tired of that. And he...he took her." He rubbed his eyes. Felt the despair wash over him again.
"Do you by chance know what this is? It was in your pocket." Carson held up a sliver of crystal with indentations and markings on it. He neglected to mention what else he had found with it. Kept it to himself.
But John was staring at his bruised hands. Forlorn. "She's gone. She's gone, Carson. Taken from me. Moira...I...I can't lose her, Carson. I can't lose her." He looked up suddenly. Gaze focused on the crystal. "The..." He took it, looked it over. "Keycard. The keycard." Hope blazed in his eyes, on his face. "Moira...Moira! She must have taken it from him to give to me! To save her! He can't access the anomaly without it! Carson! She's still on that planet! With him! Stranded. With him."
"Well, that's good news, right? You can send a–"
"No." He abruptly sat, swung his legs off the bed. Grimaced at the pain. "Ford. Ford and his mutants are there too. They were chasing us. They are hunting them! Shit! Shit! How long have I been out of it?" he demanded.
"Two days, John. Send a team," Carson urged.
"No! Moira, I have to save Moira! I have to find her, at all costs! Ford will kill her, and my dark side version...he'll take her if I don't stop him!" He struggled to his feet but with a gentle push Carson moved him back onto the bed. "Damn it, Carson!"
"Now you listen to me, colonel! You will rest and recover! No, I'll not hear a word!" He held up a hand. "Give it an hour. Plan your rescue and I will see how you are, all right? You'll be no good to her if you collapse on that planet, now will you?"
"I'm going after her, Carson! If I have to crawl through the Stargate I will!"
"Fine, John. Give it an hour, will you? Then we will see."
"An hour," John reluctantly conceded. Sitting down with a groan. His head was swimming, heart racing. "An hour. I can plan this out first. Okay, okay. An hour."
"Yes, John. Make your plans and let me run a few tests to be sure you are okay."
"John! John, wait! Stop!" Elizabeth's voice was strident, angry as she ran into the Jumper bay. Men were assembled, entering ships. All carrying P90s and assault rifles. "John! I have to protest this reckless selfishness of yours!"
John turned slowly as she bore down upon him. He watched her, saw the anger on her face. He shifted his stance, trying not to favor his good leg too noticeably. He was clad in black, TAC vest secured. Gun in his hand. "Selfish?" he questioned. At his nod the men resumed loading the Jumpers.
"Yes! You are in no condition to rescue anyone! Let Lorne and Reynolds lead the teams!"
"No. I'm the only one who knows exactly what they will be up against," John argued, tone mild, reasonable.
"John, you can't lead a rescue mission in your condition! No matter what Carson said! Lorne and Reynolds are more than capable of–"
"If you think I'm not going after Moira you are gravely mistaken!" he flared, anger surfacing. He turned to the ships. "Get moving! Lorne, have that 'Gate dialed and ready! Remember, shoot to kill! No quarter, except for the colonel. Disable only."
"John, please," Elizabeth urged, hand on his arm to make him meet her gaze. "This is tantamount to suicide! If those mutants catch you, if Ford catches you again he–"
"They won't. He won't."
"If Moira's still on that planet with that other version of you she's perfectly safe!"
John smiled briefly. "Perfectly safe? If? If? And that version of me is the dark side version of me, Elizabeth! He has nothing to lose and everything to gain! He killed..." John caught himself before he revealed the fact that the alternate Sheppard had killed his version of Moira. At her own tortured behest. "He's capable of things you cannot imagine. But I can. I know."
"No. I can't let you go. I order you to stand down, John!"
"You order me?" he asked, raising a brow. Torn between amusement and anger.
"Yes." Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips. Obstinate. "I am in command of this city. I am in command of all personnel, including you, colonel. So you will stand down. Let your men embark on this mission. They are well-trained and know exactly what to do."
John's gaze narrowed. "No."
"John! Stand down now or I will have you arrested! I will throw you into a holding cell until you see sense! Your men are–"
"Not me. Don't." He took a step towards her. Voice lowering into dangerous tones. "Don't get in my way. Not on this, Elizabeth."
"I have no choice, John. You are being unreasonable. You are too injured to effectively lead a rescue mission, and your personal feelings are blinding you to the fact that you will be no more than a serious liability to your men," she argued.
"Personal feelings?" he asked, disbelief in his voice. "Of course! She's my wife!"
"Nevertheless your feelings are clouding your judgment! I'm sorry, John, but we have to look at the big picture here. We've already lost a Jumper! And four good men! We can't risk losing more! Your judgment has been impaired and I will not allow you to lead any team in your condition! Do you want to lose another Jumper? Another team?"
"No." John's voice fell to a low, almost raspy tone.
"John, I don't blame you. Of course not! I just need you to see the gravity of the situation, to see past your immediate concerns."
"You mean Moira," he said, scowling. The death of those four men a weight on him that he knew was not his fault, but felt it nevertheless.
"There's more at stake than Moira. There's Ford on the loose with some kind of mutant army, there's another version of you that can easily infiltrate this city undetected! Your men will handle this mission! Not you! You are too close to see things clearly."
He scowled. "She's my wife!" he repeated, furious. "And if I lose her...if I lose her I won't want to keep on..." He left the rest unsaid. But it spilled into his voice, into his eyes.
Elizabeth saw it. Saw the depth of emotion, the weight of loss and grief and guilt. Was startled by it. Alarmed. She stepped back from him.
"John? You don't mean...look, I'm sure your teams will recover her. Finish the mission and take care of Ford as well. I simply can't let you go in your condition." Sympathy shone in her eyes, but a firm resolution as well.
"I do mean," he quietly, solemnly noted. "So don't. Don't get in my way on this. Not on this."
Elizabeth frowned, but decided. Reluctantly she nodded. "Be careful, then. Don't do anything stupid!"
John smiled, relaxing. "Stupid? Me? Never." He turned. "Let's go!"