Genetic Drift3
There was a silence that stretched. And stretched. A stillness in the hallway as no one said a word. No one moved. All startled by Carson's observations.
Finally John spoke. "Are you saying they are blocking the memory themselves?" A tightness was developing in his chest.
"Yes, colonel. Whatever happened was so traumatic they only way they could cope was to have their memories shut down. Blocking the experience. But it is still there. Leaching out in their odd, hostile behavior."
"Would hypnosis or regression therapy help?" Elizabeth suggested.
"No. The trauma is too severe. They have to remember on their own. I don't think any kind of therapy would work at this point." Carson shook his head, sighed.
"That's not good enough, Carson. We need answers now!" John fumed. "Isn't there some drug you could give Lorne? Some kind of anti-inhibitor to open his memories?"
"Sadly, no, John. I believe that would be too dangerous."
"Then I'll go back to that planet and make those damn people talk!"
"No, you won't," Elizabeth said, a restraining hand on his arm. "You've been targeted too. So has Rodney. I don't want the same thing happening to you two. No," she raised her voice, forestalling argument, "I won't risk it."
"Fine," John said through gritted teeth, "then I'll send a team lacking the ATA gene!"
"And how would they get there? On foot. Vulnerable. Since they would lack the ATA gene probably nothing would happen to them. It would be a waste of resources," Rodney reasoned.
"You're not helping, Rodney!" John snapped. Impatient. Frustrated. Needing to something, anything. Anything but sit around and wait.
"Or worse you would be sending them to their deaths. To be food for the Wraith," Elizabeth concurred.
"Damn it," John swore softly, clenching his hands into fists.
"Colonel Sheppard," a voice sounded in his earpiece, "Doctor O'Meara is requesting to see you. She says she remembers something."
"Copy. On my way." John eyed Carson. "Maybe we don't have to wait that long. Moira has just remembered something."
"Tread carefully, John!" Carson called after his rapidly retreating form. "I'd best check on Evan. The same thing could be happening to him."
John strode down the hallways. Dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. "Moira?" He entered her room, waved the door closed behind him. Stared. Moira was sitting on the bed, hugging herself, rocking slightly back and forth. Back and forth. "Moira, what do you remember?" He stepped to her, sat next to her.
Moira met his gaze, brown eyes wide. "Not...not much. I fell asleep. I was...I was...I was in a cocoon, John."
"A cocoon? But you weren't fed upon, Moira. Carson said there wasn't a mark on you."
She shook her head. "I wasn't. I...that's all. I can't." She was shutting down again, closing in on herself, shielding from the memories whispering in her head.
John caught her arms, stopping her repetitive motion. "You have to try, Moira. Try to remember. Think!" he urged.
"I–" She grimaced, closing her eyes. "A...a cocoon...so tight..."
The fibers are tight. Wrapping arms, legs, torso. She turns her head. A dull ache pounds.. Pounds. "Evan? Evan!" Her companion blinks, opposite her. Wrapped in the gauzy yet surprisingly strong material.
He grimaces, struggles. "Moira? Damn these webs are tight!"
"A...a room," Moira said, voice straining with the effort of remembering. "Then we were in a room...dark..." She tried to concentrate on the disjointed images. Feelings.
Dragged by Wraith drones to a small room. Thrown onto the floor like so much baggage. Darkness. Vines crawl on the walls. Wraith tech glimmers. "Why don't they feed on us?" she asks, moving sore but free limbs.
"Maybe we're the main course at the banquet," Evan suggests, trying to stand but failing. Pain. Unable to rise the pain keeps them on their knees.
"You're doing great, Moira," John encouraged. "What happened next? In that room?"
"I...I don't know..." She opened her eyes, touched her head. "The pain. Controlling pain. A sound. It was piercing, but not high pitched. A sound..." She clutched her head in memory or in renewed pain she couldn't tell.
John caught her before she fell off the bed. "Easy, easy, Moira. I'm right here. Keep going. You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you. What else? The Wraith? What did the Wraith want? What did the Wraith do?"
"Can't..." Her voice trailed off as images abruptly flooded.
A Wraith queen circles, circles. Lowers her hand. The pain is gone instantly. Moira and Evan nearly fall flat with relief. "At last," the Wraith's voice coos, crawls over their skin, "we have waited a long time for a female."
"Didn't know you Wraith swung that way," Evan quips, only to hunch over as the piercing sounds drill into his skull.
"What do you want?" Moira shouts over the noise, the pain that suddenly sharpens to a fine, fine point.
"The gene," the Wraith answers, sounding surprised at the question. "The Ancients' magic gene. And you will provide all that we need."
"She wanted the gene..." Moira stammered. "The ATA gene...then..." Moira hunched over, feeling sick, feeling pain, feeling horror all at once.
"Damn it!" John tapped his earpiece. "Carson! I need you here now! Moira's room!" He pulled Moira up to him. "Look at me, Moira! Look!"
"John..." Her brown eyes were huge, unfocussed but she blinked, blinked. Hands falling away from her head. The pain, the memories faded.
"Good. What else? They can't hurt you now, Moira. Can you remember what she did to you? Why she would want the gene? Try to remember."
"I..." Her vision turned inward.
"What did the Wraith do?" John asked, voice rising in earnest desperation. He almost shook her but restrained himself.
"Wraith." The word echoed in her mind. A silky whisper. She clutched her head again, doubled over as another wave hit. "No! No!"
"Moira, tell me!" John insisted, pushing. Desperate.
The Wraith queen stops. Stares. Points. "You will start now. Produce the gene for us. To be used by us."
"How? We can't just pull it out of our cells!" Evan states angrily.
"Breed. You two will mate in our breeding program. Then we will harvest the results." Moira and Evan stare at each other in horror. Pain makes them fall writhing to the floor. "Begin!" the Wraith orders, sweeps out of the room.
The pain recedes. Moira claws her way to her knees. "It doesn't work like that! It won't–" Pain flares to refute her words.
"Moira! You–" Evan doubles over. Pain flares in pulsating waves. He can't think, can't see. He grabs Moira to him, kisses her, pushes her onto her back to fall upon her. The pain stops. The noise stops. "Sorry," he whispers in her ear, "I needed a minute without that pain." "Understood," she agrees, startled, moves as the pain leaves echoes in her head. "We can't–" "Obey me!" booms the Wraith. Pain.
Evan kisses her again, moves against her in imitation of intimacy. The pain stops. The noise stops. "Moira, I, I don't think we have a choice," he stammers.
"What?" she exclaims, pushes him aside. She sits, moves to her knees, gasps as another wave pulsates.
Evan moves to his knees, takes her hands as the pulse subsides. "It's this or death, Moira. We need to buy us more time to find a way out of here," he reasons.
"We can't!" Her refusal begins to trigger another piercing sound, another wave of pain. "Moira!" He pulls her against him. The pain draws back like a living thing. Waiting. "We can do this. Granted it's not how I would have approached it, but if we don't we'll die. Would sex with me be so terrible?"
"No, but...yes...I can't–" she stammers, embarrassed, stubborn.
"We're strong, Moira. We can get through this," he struggles to convince her, to speak as the pain intrudes.
"You don't understand, Evan!" she stammers, each word a fight, a struggle. "I'm seeing someone!"
"What?" he asks. Surprise abates the pain for a moment.
"Yes," she confirms.
"Who? Look, whoever it is will understand under these circumstances."
"No, he won't. Not with you," she insists, trying desperately not to name him.
"Not with me?" he demands, both insulted and flattered, but he doubles over with pain that clenches his muscles.
Moira hunches over as the pain screams along her body. "Because it's you!" she shouts. "Who?" he shouts, fighting. "Who wouldn't understand?"
"Because it's...it's..." Moira struggles, the name on her lips, finally forced out to make him understand, forced out by the pain shaking her body. "It's John! John Sheppard! John Sheppard!" The name is torn out of her, echoes along every nerve.
"Carson!" John bellowed, "get in here now! Moira!" John held her shaking form.
"Can't! I won't, I won't...forced...they forced...he forced...breeding...no no no no no no!"
"Moira!" Carson ran into the room as she started to convulse. Eyes unfocussed, glazed. "Moira, look at me! You don't have to remember! John, tell her! Tell her!" Carson ordered.
John caught Moira's face between his hands, turned her wide eyes to him. "Moira! That's enough! Don't remember! There's nothing else, nothing else to remember!" he ordered harshly, employing his best stern no-nonsense tone of voice that made recruits quake.
Moira blinked, froze, then slumped into his arms. Carson felt her pulse. "Put her on the bed. Now!"
John lifted her, gently laid her on the bed. "Is she–"
"Unconscious. The same as Evan, but she's worse. I told you not to press her, John! If you force it out of her you could very likely kill her!" Carson scolded angrily. Furious.
John shook his head. "I didn't mean to....I...she was remembering–"
"But too much too quickly! Her brain shut it out for a reason, John!" He checked her pulse again. "Steady. She's asleep. Leave her be."
"Carson...I didn't...I never..."
"I know," he sighed, cutting off John's guilty stammering. "Leave her be. When she wakes up don't press her. Don't you dare press her for anything!"
John nodded, gazing down at her sleeping form. He sighed, followed Carson out of the room. Guilt engulfing him. "I...I never meant to push...I mean...what did Lorne say?" he asked to change to subject. To bury his guilt.
"It was disjointed. Pretty much the same. A Wraith. The gene. Some kind of..." Carson broke off, shaking his head.
"Should we move them to the infirmary?" John asked.
"No. I'll be on call, all right. Sleep is what is best for both of them right now. All right?"
"And when they awaken?" John asked.
"When they awaken I suspect the dam will break, so to speak. The flood of memory could be quite traumatic. They could recover all, or some, or not remember any of this. Only time will tell. And then we can deal with the aftermath, whatever that may be."
**********************************************************************
The Wraith's voice grates. "The female is strong."
"She can be forced," another Wraith voice. Female.
"The male?" the first Wraith inquires.
"He wants to survive. For her to survive," the second explains.
Moira blinks. She is sprawled on the floor. Painfully moves to her knees. "Evan?" she croaks, trying to see in the darkness, the dimness.
Evan moves to his knees, blinking. "Moira. I can't...I can't focus..." Blood is on his torn shirt and he stares down at it, uncomprehending.
"Did they feed?" she asks, checking but there is no blood on her. No marks.
"No. I bit my lip," Evan realizes. A raw cut on his lower lip bleeds. "Moira, we have to have sex. Or die." He tries to add something, a joke, a smile, but is too taut with pain to succeed.
"No. I won't betray him," she stubbornly insists. Feels a wave of tears, of terror.
"Who? They guy you're seeing. He won't mind under these–" he repeats, for the life of him not remembering the name.
"Would you? I won't, Evan!" she refuses.
"Even if it means our deaths?" he snaps back at her, angry. "Who the hell is it? Who? Who?"
"John!" she shouts back, almost defiant. "John Sheppard! John Sheppard!"
Pain floods, recedes. Blurring lines, times, conversations. Disjointed memories. Flashes. Unable to go beyond, to go further.
"You're a biologist, Moira. It's just sex," Evan insists, finds himself on his knees again, wonders how long he had been there.
"You don't understand! I'm seeing someone!" Moira states, pauses, wonders if she has had the same conversation before, can't remember. Only remembers that she is seeing someone.
"This guy whoever he is will understand," Evan reasons, wonders who it is, can almost remember but the name eludes him.
"No, because it is you!"
"Who? Who is he?"
"John Sheppard! John Sheppard!" Moira shouts, but out loud or in her head she can't tell.
"Manipulate her. There!" a Wraith invokes.
Pain fluctuates and Moira falls to the floor, stares as John's image wavers before her. On his knees like Evan. Sexual memories flood her brain, her body. "John? John..." she whispers.
"No! I won't do that to her! Not like this!" Evan struggles, realizing what the Wraith is doing to force her to accept. Feels sick at the very thought.
"I'm a biologist!" Moira shouts, struggles to her knees. "This won't work!"
"As am I, human," the Wraith voice taunts. "We will harvest. Mate! Or he dies!" She flings her hand, an almost casual gesture, but Evan cries out. Body contorting in pain.
"No! No! Then I'll kill myself and you'll lose your brood mare!" Moira threatens, torn.
"Let me die, Moira," Evan croaks.
Evan is on his knees yet again. "Would sex with me be so terrible?"
"You don't understand!" Moira insists, yet again.
The anguished cry jolted John awake, propelled him out of the chair he had set up outside of Moira's room. He waved the door open, ran inside, heart nearly leaping out of his chest. Skidded to a halt near the bed. "Moira!"
Moira was kneeling on the bed, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Hair loose and wild. Brown eyes huge. Face pale. "John Sheppard. John Sheppard. John Sheppard." Repeating his name over and over, like a litany, a thread of sanity. A trigger.
John stared, frozen for a moment. Swallowed. "Moira?" he asked, voice gentle.
She took several gulping breaths, as if she had been drowning. Stopped moving. Met his startled gaze. "I can't...remember...John..." her voice trailed into wrenching silence. Her voice tore his heart with its utter despair. Tears filled her eyes. Then sobs erupted.
John stared, frozen now by the emotional outburst. Uncertain, awkward. Uncomfortable. Finally jolted he rushed to her side, slid onto the bed. Tapped his earpiece. "Carson! I need you now! Moira!" Helpless he added, "The dam has burst! The dam burst!" He pulled her into his arms, stroked her back as her body shook with every sob, every stuttering breath. "Moira, Moira, I'm here," he tried to soothe.
"I can't remember, I can't remember, I can't remember," she stammered, between sobs, between deep breaths. "I can't! Oh John, John will never forgive me! I can't! I oh John, John will never forgive me! If I have to...what is the harvest? The harvest!"she babbled.
"Moira, tell me," he spoke low into her ear, having no clue what to do, what to say. "I'll forgive you anything, just calm down, calm down, sweetheart. Carson!" he shouted into the earpiece.
"Good Lord!" Carson ran into the room, neatly sidestepping the fallen chair across the threshold. He gently pulled Moira out of John's embrace. "Moira? Can you hear me?"
"Carson," she gasped, as if trying not to drown, "what is the harvest? What...breeding...she forced us...the pain, the pain, psychic abilities are stronger," she stammered, clutching his arm, anything to communicate, "they want the ATA gene to harvest...how..." She broke off, babbled again, "he forced me, he...no one...not John...no no no no no!"
"Hold her," Carson instructed, sliding a needle into her arm. "I've got to give her a sedative. Her heart is racing."
Moira's body tensed in John's arms, then relaxed. She breathed deeply. "I remember. I can't remember if, if we how we...you don't understand, I can't...John Sheppard. John Sheppard..." her words slurred. She fell against John's chest. Out cold.
Carson breathed a sigh of relief. "This is a good thing."
"A good thing?" John exclaimed. "How can this be a good thing? She was hysterical! What the hell was she talking about?"
"I have no idea. The memories flooded back, at least some of them."
"What happened to her, Carson?" John demanded, voice raw with anguish. "Why did she keep saying my name? And the rest...he forced..." John swallowed uneasily. Felt sick. Angry.
"Don't jump to any conclusions, John," the doctor warned. "She could have been talking about anyone, or anything. We just don't know yet." He stood. "Bring her to the infirmary. I want to keep an eye on her."
John stood, lifted Moira's unconscious form in his arms. Followed Carson.
**************************************************************************
Moira stirred. Swallowed round a dry mouth, raw throat. She shifted in the infirmary bed. Opened her eyes. Woke. Sat up quickly, tried to move.
"Here, love." Carson handed her a cup of water. "Easy now. You're safe."
Moira took the cup, drank greedily. Stared round. Met Carson's concerned gaze. "Where?" she finally managed a word.
"John?" the doctor guessed. "I finally sent him to bed. He wanted to stay but I insisted."
Moira blinked, forced back a wave of tears. "Evan?"
Carson eyed her. "In his room. Had a similar break, but not as intense as yours, love. Now," he patted her hand, pulling up a chair to sit close, "do you feel ready to talk about it?"
"I can only remember parts...up to a point..." She sighed, drank more water. Set the cup aside. "I need to talk. To Evan."
"First talk to me," Carson urged. He poured more water into the cup for her. "Can you remember what was done to you? I don't mean to press you, love, but all my scans, all the blood work came back with nothing."
"Nothing? Of course...they, she would want the breeding stock pure."
"Breeding stock?" Carson asked, alarmed.
"Then why can't I remember everything?"
"It could be a block, a psychic block put there by the Wraith."
She smiled shakily. "Carson, I know you don't believe that. Tell me what you really think."
"It could be, Moira," he insisted, reluctant. "You said yourself those Wraith were stronger, mentally stronger."
"Carson," she repeated, insisting.
He sighed. "I believe that whatever you endured was so...traumatic, so terrible you own mind shut it down. Refused to let you remember it."
She considered, drank some water. "I see."
"But it started to bleed through the cracks in your subconscious. Manifesting in your increasingly violent antagonism towards Evan. Although why it would manifest in that particular way I haven't a clue."
"I know. I..." She closed her eyes a moment. Opened them. "Carson..." Her eyes widened. "I shot him! Oh my God! I shot Evan! Is he–"
"You had every reason to shoot him," John agreed, walking over to join them. He was still wearing his rumpled clothes. Clothes he had obviously slept in as he tossed and turned in the few hours he had taken. He stared at Moira, relieved to see her calmer. Lucid.
"He's fine. You just grazed his arm," Carson soothed.
She breathed easier. "Good thing I'm a lousy shot."
"I'll teach you to be a better one," John promised. Serious. "How do you feel? Can you remember anything?"
Moira briefly met his gaze, looked at Carson. "I can only remember up to a point. That's why I need to talk to Evan."
"No."
She glanced at John again. His serious expression. His one word voiced firmly. Arms folded across his chest as he stared down at her. Worriedly. "I have to speak to him, John. He might be able to fill in the missing pieces I can't. I have to know what happened to us. To me. There are things I can't...remember that I have to remember..." She looked at the blankets, a blush warming her pale face. Uncomfortable.
"No," John repeated. "You are going no where near him. After what he tried to do you, after he forced..." John's terse words were only matched by his clenched fists, taut muscles.
"Forced? What?" she asked, puzzled. "He wasn't himself, John...when he choked me. I wasn't myself when I shot him. I have to know what–"
"Listen to her, John," Carson agreed. "She's fine. Lucid. No more hatred. Evan is the same. She needs to talk to him. Now."
John looked at Carson, frowned. "Are you serious? There's no way Moira is getting near–"
"John!" She sighed, abruptly moved to her feet. Clothing more rumpled than this. "I need to do this now. I can feel some details already slipping away from my mind." She looked at Carson who nodded. She stepped past them both. "Besides, I don't need your permission, colonel!" she snapped angrily.
"I never said you did!" John retorted. "I only wanted..." he sighed, exchanged a glance with Carson. "That's more like Moira, isn't it?"
"Absolutely, colonel," the doctor agreed.
Moira halted in front of Evan's door. Stared at the two marines standing guard. Frowned. Hands on her hips. "I need to speak to Evan! Major Lorne!" she corrected.
"Sorry, Doctor O'Meara. No one enters or leaves. Colonel Sheppard's orders," one marine informed her sternly.
"He's fine! Recovered like me. Let me through! I need to speak to him now!"
"I can't allow you to...sir?"
"Dismissed, Rogers, Elliot." John nodded. The two men nodded, retreated, casting curious glances back at the pair. John caught her hand before she could open the door, rapped his knuckles on it. "Major Lorne?"
The door opened. Evan stared, still clad in his messy clothes like Moira was. Like John was.
"Sir? Moira..." A host of emotions played across his face.
"Evan. We need to talk." She crossed the threshold, forcing him to back up into his room. She whirled, freeing her hand. Placed it on John's chest, halting him. "Privately."
John scowled, green eyes narrowing. "There is no way I am letting you–" he began heatedly, unable to help himself, unable to stop his glare from hitting Evan.
"John, please!" she urged, bringing his gaze back to her. "This is important! I'll be perfectly safe," she assured, fingers moving on his chest to push him towards the open door. Out of the room.
"Fine." His gaze moved to Evan again. Grew cold. "If I hear anything from Moira, or you say one insult, if you dare to touch her I will shoot you."
"Yes, sir. I wouldn't harm a hair on her head," Evan assured, flustered.
Moira closed the door. Turned to Evan. An awkward silence. She grabbed a chair, sat as he sat on the very edge of his bed. Moira stared at her hands. "How is the arm? I'm sorry I shot you."
"Moira, I...good God, Moira! I am so sorry! For what I did to you! The things I said! I tried to...I could have...I would shoot myself before ever hurting you like that!"
She met his anguished face. Sincerity. "It wasn't you, Evan. Not the real you. And it wasn't me. Not really." She looked at her hands again. "It's what the, the Wraith did. To us."
"Yes. But still...if I had...if I had..." Evan couldn't complete the sentence. Appalled at his own conduct. The vilifying hatred. The assault.
"You didn't." She met his uneasy gaze again. Clasped her hands together tightly, steeling herself. Knowing that John was just right outside the door, would barge in if she needed him. "I need to know. I need to know what you remember. I mean..." She hastily corrected, "what you remember up to...I remember the village, the welcome feast..."
"The tour," he supplied, thinking. "The cornfield. The cows."
"The cows," she agreed. "The temple. The temple? I just remembered that!"
"Yeah, we were taken to a temple, I remember now. Wraith worshipers." Evan frowned, rubbed his temple. "They were chanting. We were shot. Stunned! Then woke up in a room."
"The room." She stood suddenly, turned away from him. Tears threatened. "After, after that...no wait." She took a deep breath, released it. Turned to him. "Evan, can you..." She glanced at the door. Could almost feel John standing outside it. Against it. She gestured Evan to go further into his room, away from the door. He nodded, stood, circled round the bed.
"Moira?" John called, moving to stare at the door. "Are you–"
"Fine, John!" she called before he opened the door. "I'm fine! Almost done...we're just trying to remember." She followed after Evan, stood apart from him, whispered, "Can you remember the, the room? What we...what happened there?"
"Yes. Some. It's disjointed...but yes...to a point." He eyed the floor suddenly.
She nodded. Hugged herself. "Okay. Okay."
He hesitated, asked, "Moira, did we...I mean...I can't quite...did we...did I?" He stared at the wall, uneasy. Embarrassed.
"I can't remember. I don't know. I..." she stammered. "I can't...listen, beyond, beyond that I don't remember anything. The next thing is...blurred. A Wraith queen. Maybe two. The, the harvest. What is the harvest?"
"The harvest?" he asked, pulling his mind from the tortured images. Pain. Kissing. Dialogue of sex. The gene. "The only harvest I recall is the head man commenting on their crops."
"No. I remember that too...but this...this was another..." She shivered suddenly, slammed her palm on the table. "Damn it! I need to remember!"
"Moira!" John flew into the room, pulling his gun in a smooth motion. "Get away from her now!" he ordered.
"Colonel!" Evan raised his hands.
Moira whirled. "No! John, no! It was me. I didn't mean... I was frustrated so I hit the table! Please, it was nothing!" She moved to him, touched his upraised arm with the gun sited on Evan. Gently lowered it. "Five more minutes, please."
John met her gaze, slowly holstered his weapon. "Five." He looked at Evan. His expression giving all the threat he needed. He exited.
As the door closed Moira turned back to her team leader. "Sorry. Sorry, he's–"
"I don't blame him, Moira, after what I tried to do to you. I guess he..oh. Oh!" Realization at the reason for the colonel's excessive anger and protectiveness hit him.
"Evan, I have to know. I have to remember."
"How did we escape?" he asked, shoving that startling fact aside. "Can you remember that? I mean, I can't. But we must have escaped, right? Or, or–"
"Or they let us go," she suggested suddenly.
"Which means they, she, their experiment was a success...since..."
"Or not. Or not, we...she sent us back..." Moira frowned, rubbed her brow. "Damn! It's just there on the edge of my mind. I don't know how to release it!"
"Neither do I." He took a tentative step towards her. "Moira, if we...if we... I mean...it wasn't our fault if we..what we did, to stay alive."
"No." She dropped her hands to her sides. Met his uncertain gaze. "No. We have to know. For certain. I have to know for certain."
"Four minutes!" John called through the door. Glaring at the solid barrier. He banged his fist on the door for emphasis.
"Okay, John! We have to go back, Evan."
"Go back?" Evan stared at her, shocked. "Are you crazy, Moira? There's no way they'll let us go back there! I don't want to go back there."
"But it's the only way, don't you see? It's the only way to unlock our minds. Carson says we're doing it to ourselves so we need to undo this," she argued quickly.
"Three minutes!" John called through the door. Impatiently shifting his weight foot to foot.
"Okay...I guess. Especially if Carson is right then we must. But no one else will agree to this, Moira. Sheppard will never agree. Never! Nor will Weir or–"
"It's the only way, Evan! We have to–"
"Two!" John called, hand hovering over the access panel. He could only hear scattered words.
"I'll convince John. He can convince Weir. Trust me!"
"How are you ever going to convince Colonel Sheppard that...oh. Oh!" His eyes widened in realization yet again. Assessment.
"Be in the 'Gate room in ten minutes. Please, Evan! We're going one way or another!" She whirled, nearly ran to the door, waved it open just as John was about to do it. "One." She glanced back at Evan, stepped across the threshold. "He's normal again, John. But he has gaps in his memory too. Like me." She took his arm suddenly. Led him quickly into her room.
"Moira?" he asked, concerned. She seemed upset, out of breath, anxious.
Moira freed his arm, turned to face him. "John." She debated how to proceed. "We need to go back. Evan and I. To that planet." Seeing his surprised reaction, instant denial coming to his lips she forestalled him. "Hear me out, please. It's the only way to finish this. To find out exactly what happened. What happened to us. I have to know, John. I have to know..." She felt a wave of tears, forced them back. "It's the only way to recover our memories. All of them. However, however horrible or, or traumatic they might be."
"Moira," John said slowly. "No. I cannot allow you to–"
"Listen to me, John. I know I'm asking a lot. Putting ourselves and whomever you send with us at risk. I wouldn't ask it if it wasn't important." She took a deep breath, released it. Touched his arm. "I have to know. Even if it's bad I have to know. The last thing I want is to do is to place anyone in danger. You should send a team with us who lacks the ATA gene. No, we should go alone."
"Hell no. Moira, you think I'm going to let you go back to a planet full of Wraith worshipers and some insane Wraith queen conducting God knows what kind of genetic experiments? Your memory will return in time and then...when it does...we can deal with it," he said. Suddenly uncomfortable he glanced round the room.
"No, John. It's slipping now. I can't lose it. I have to know now. So does Evan. I won't be able to function if I don't know what happened to me, to us." She looked at the floor. "I have to know or I can't...I can't live a lie, not knowing if...I would rather let this...this darkness eat away at me then put you in any danger, anyone in danger but I..." She hesitated, winced but blurted, "The way I feel about you, John, I have to know what happened...please." She finally met his gaze, uncertain. Scared. Adamant. Declarations hovering on her lips but unsaid. Tears sparkled in her eyes.
John was silent, considering, emotions vying with reason. Reacting to her words, her needs. Her fears. Her uncertain declaration not surprising him but startling him all the same to hear it out loud. To hear the other word just hovering on the air, unspoken. He touched her hand still on his arm. Wrapped his fingers around hers. "Let me talk to Weir. Prep in ten," he finally said, voice thick with unspoken emotions.
She visibly relaxed. Stepped close to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."