Rogue Element11
John stirred. He opened his eyes, squinted at the bright lights. He turned his head. A dull ache thudded, thudded. He recognized the infirmary in Atlantis. Felt the uncomfortable cot under him. The white scrubs on his body. His arm was bandaged again. It stung. He moved his leg. Felt a new bandage there, tight on his skin. He looked over to see Moira in a chair.
She was freshly showered. Hair tied back but slipping out of the ponytail holder. A clean blue shirt hugged her breasts. Black jeans clung to her hips. She was studying a data pad on her lap, hunched close to the screen. Protectively blocking it from prying eyes. Frowning. Chewing on her lower lip in concentration.
John stared. Fixated on the nibbling motions of her mouth, her lips. Heard the soft, soft sound she made as she pondered, pondered. "Moira." His voice was quiet, sounded raw.
Moira heard it nonetheless. She started, freed her lower lip. Looked over to him. Saw his passionate, intent gaze. She smiled. "Sorry, John." She closed the pad, set it on the chair as she stood. Moved to sit carefully on the edge of the bed as he hit the button to make the back rise. To help him into a seated position. "You look like hell, John."
"Thanks, Moira. So do you." He saw her weariness. Her sorrow. Her brown eyes red-rimmed from sobbing, weeping. He touched her hand, worried.
Moira entwined her fingers with his. Leaned close to gently kiss him. She sat back but John touched her hair, her jaw. Drew her into a passionate kiss. A long, deep searching of her mouth with his. Tongue sliding into her lips, demanding. Causing her to softly murmur.
Carson coughed. Moira sat back, colored. John smiled, fingers tightening on hers. "Sorry," the doctor said, smiled. "Let's see how you are, John." He stepped closer, shone a bright light into John's eyes. Checked his pulse. Checked the bandages, the IV drip.
"I'm fine, doc," John said sourly. "More importantly, how is Moira?"
"I'm fine, John. You're the one who was injured!" She turned to Carson. "How could you release him? He was out cold for two days with a concussion, so Evan said! A deep cut on his arm, a bullet you had to remove from his leg and yet you let him lead the teams to catch Ford!"
"To rescue you," Carson stated. "I couldn't stop him, Moira. You know how stubborn he is."
"Of course you could have stopped him!" she refuted. "Sedate him! Strap him down if you have to, just stop him!"
"Moira, I only let you tie me up," John reminded, amused at her anger. Aroused at her fierce protection.
She glanced at him. "Shut up, John! We'll get to your stupidity later!"
"Oh, good. I'd hate to be left out of your harangue," he teased.
"Moira, he's fine now," Carson assured. Removed the IV from John's hand. "I'm more concerned about you, love. You need to eat, to sleep, to rest. You've got a nasty bruise on your side that needs to be–"
"Bruise? What happened to you, Moira? Did he hurt you?" John demanded. Tugging her hand to gain her attention.
Moira turned to him. "No, I'm fine. You shouldn't have come after–"
"No? Then who hurt you? Ford? Was it Ford? That son of a bitch! He–"
"No, John! If you must know it was you!" she snapped. Saw his surprise. Dread. Guilt. She softened her tone. "It wasn't your fault. It was during the fight with yourself...with the colonel. I tried to intervene but got in the way. I was stupid. But I'm fine now."
"I...hit you?" John could barely say the words, much less imagine doing it. "Moira? Moira, I'm sorry! So sorry! I never–"
"No, no, it wasn't your fault. It was mine. An accident," she soothed, regretted telling him. She turned back to Carson. "I'm not hungry. I'm tired but I can't sleep. No, I don't want any drugs," she said before the doctor could offer. "I just want to take care of John. Okay?"
Carson sighed, patted her shoulder. "Okay, love. But you need to sleep. To rest. To eat. To talk," he noted, seeing the sorrow hanging on her like a shadow.
John was still reeling from what Moira had told him. He remembered the fight. Her grab on his arm. His swinging elbow, unable to stop. Her spin. Her fall to the ground. "Shit! Moira, I'm so sorry! God, I would never hurt you! I swear! I'd rather die than ever, ever hurt you!"
"John, please!" she scolded. "It wasn't your fault! It was mine, okay?"
"Is that why you went with him? Because I–"
"No! To save you! Don't you remember? To save you! I'd do anything, anything to save you!" She calmed herself, turning away from him. Embarrassed under Carson's gaze. "How long does he have to stay here?"
"Moira–" John began, in a welter of emotion.
"Another day, at the least. Then I will release him into your care. John," Carson's gaze shifted to him, "sleep for an hour. Then I'll check you again. I want to be absolutely sure you are on your way to being fully recovered. Once I release you keep to your bed. Take it easy. Rest. Don't rip out any more stitches, all right? Frankly, I'm tired of having to redo all my work on you. Let Moira look after you, but don't you dare tire her out."
Moira freed her hand. Resumed her seat on the chair, pad on her lap once more. "He will. I'll tie him to the bed if I must."
"Please do, Moira."
"Shut up, John. Get some sleep."
John frowned. "Are you going to sit there the whole–"
"Hour? Yes. Sleep. I'm not leaving your side."
He smiled. "Now who's being stubborn, doctor?" He sighed. "I'd love a burger and a beer. Moira?"
"Later." She opened the data pad, but closed it. Stood as Steven approached.
John straightened in the bed with a quiet groan. "Sir?"
"Lieutenant colonel, we need to discuss the–"
"No, you don't." Both men stared at Moira. "I mean you don't need to discuss anything right now, do you Colonel Caldwell? John's just awakened and his recollections may be a little foggy. Surely Evan and Jason have given you their full reports and will suffice for now? Besides, I know that Ford's body is here and Carson needs to begin a full autopsy. John can report to you later when he's fully rested and recovered."
John tried not to smirk. "Moira. Colonel, I'm sorry, Moira doesn't understand the–"
She glanced at him. "Shut up, John. I perfectly understand." She eyed Steven who appeared amused. Impressed. "As does Colonel Caldwell. I'm sure you would prefer a concise, accurate report."
"Yes, I would, Doctor O'Meara, er, Sheppard. Thank you. Report at five o'clock?" John stared, stunned at the request, at Steven's gentle tone and manner.
"Yes. That would be fine. Thank you."
"Rest up, lieutenant colonel. Doctor." Steven left them, hands clasped behind his back.
Moira resumed her seat. Data pad on her lap. "I don't know if I like the sound of that," she mused. "Doctor Sheppard. Maybe I'll keep Doctor O'Meara as my professional name."
John was staring at her, open-mouthed. "Uh...Moira? This is our Atlantis, right?"
She met his gaze. "Of course it is, John. Don't be silly. Get some rest so Carson can check you in an hour." She turned her attention to the screen.
John kept staring at her. Perplexed. Amused. Proud. Wanting her. Wondering what went on during those three days she had been stranded with his darker self. He licked his lips, throat parched. But he hesitated to speak. Finally said, "Moira? You are my Moira, aren't you?"
She met his gaze. A tender, loving expression filling her eyes. Making him relax, long for her. "Of course, John. Only yours." She closed the pad. Stood close to the bed. Ran her fingers through his hair. Along his bruised jaw. She kissed him gently. Lips brushing his. "Rest. Please, John."
"Moira...I..." He caught her hand, stopping her. "I thought I...I thought I'd lost you." His gaze bore into hers. Solemn.
"You didn't lose me, John. I'll never leave you." She kissed him again. "Never." Yet tears glimmered in her eyes as she looked away from him. Thoughts of that other Sheppard in her mind. Despite everything. Because of everything.
"Moira, I want to be alone with you. I want you pressed close to me," he said quietly, as if guessing her thoughts. Her tangled emotions. He reached to touch her cheek. To guide her mouth to his again. Again. "My Moira...I want you completely to myself, completely and utterly–"
"Is this a bad time?"
John swore under his breath as Moira broke from the kiss. From the intensity of the longing, the passion. Such sorrow glimmering in her eyes before she blinked it away. John wondered at it. Longed to comfort, console her. Just talk to her. In private. Alone. Just hold her close and kiss her until her sorrow was gone. To reclaim her as his again.
"No, Rodney," Moira invited. Took her seat again.
"Yes, actually," John corrected, "it is. Go now or I'll set my tigress on you. Like she scared away Caldwell," John jested, causing her to smile.
"Really? Wow. I just came to see how you were doing, is all." Rodney looked at Moira. "Are you sure brought back the right one? He seems kind of surly."
"Rodney!" John snapped, uncertain of her reaction.
But Moira smiled. "Yes, Rodney, he's ours. If you think this one is surly you should spend time with the other one."
"Wow. That bad? Geez! All right. I'll see you later. Get some rest, John."
"I'm trying," John noted sarcastically. Sighed. Looked at Moira again. "Are you–"
"Damn it, John, get some rest, would you?" She pressed the button, lowered the bed to force him into a prone position. "Now sleep. If you don't Carson might not release you in a day! Do you want to spend every night here? No, I didn't think so! So shut up and rest!"
"As ordered, ma'am," he agreed with a smile. "My Moira."
"Excuse me. May I have a private word?"
John eyed Elizabeth as she approached. "No. That is whatever you need to say to me you can say in front of Moira."
But Moira turned. "Of course, Doctor Weir. Just don't upset him, and don't tire him out. He needs to rest." She walked across the room. Ostensibly to get a drink of water but really to get out of the way.
John's gaze followed her. Tracked her every motion. Her tired walk. The water she poured into a cup. And drank slowly. Her stance a little odd as she favored one side over the other. "So?" he asked, finally meeting Elizabeth's concerned gaze.
"John, I...I don't know what to say. We can't discuss this now, obviously." She paused, but he said nothing. Had glanced to Moira again. "I just want to say–"
"No." He met her gaze. Scowling. "Don't say anything. You said quite enough before I left. Didn't you? I don't want to hear it now."
"John! I wasn't going to–"
"Were you going to apologize?" he asked.
She frowned. "No. As a matter of fact I was going to–"
"Excuse me." Moira heard the escalation of their argument if not their voices. She stepped to John's side. Touched his shoulder, a gentle pressure to ease him onto his back. To relax him.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Weir, but John does need his rest. He doesn't need any more aggravation. Not right now. Please, just let this be for now. He's not going anywhere, is he?"
Elizabeth had to smile. "True. Very well, we can table this for now. Rest, John. And try to keep your heroic stupidity to a minimum, will you?"
Moira smiled, but John did not. Did not even feel a trace of humor. He caught Moira's hand on his shoulder. Keeping her in place. Waited until Elizabeth left them alone. "Moira."
She sighed. "Sorry, John. But you need to rest...and I'm the only one who gets to harangue you over your stupidity, okay?"
He smiled. "Fine with me, sweetheart. Harangue away."
"Don't you worry, I will, sweetie, in due time. Now get some sleep, John. Please. I'll be right over there in the chair when you awaken." She kissed his brow, resumed her seat. Resigned herself to wait. Resigned herself to covering all the emotion, all the sorrow.
All the guilt.