Genetic Drift5
"Moira!" John called, catching sight of her rounding a corner. He sped up but just caught himself before he slammed into a wall. A closed door. He shoved his palm against the controls t open it, staring through the rectangular opening that was shielded by a heavy piece of glass. Moira shot the panel on the other side to refuse him entry. "No!" He watched her turn, advance.
Saw a figure emerge from the shadows. A tall, female form with flowing white hair. Pallid, greenish skin marked with slits on the cheeks. A horrible smile. A Wraith queen. "Shit! Shit, no! No!" Then the pulse started and he doubled over as pain exploded.
Moira lifted the gun, elbows bent, stance with legs slightly apart. "Say goodbye, bitch," she hissed. Then the pulse hit. Moira staggered, trying to keep her focus, her balance. To keep her feet under her as the pain rippled along her body.
Ronon ran through the temple, down the stairs, across the lab. "Sheppard!" he bellowed. Then the pulse hit. Knocking him sideways as he staggered into a wall, gritting his teeth as the pain washed over every nerve of his body.
The Wraith smiled, a hideous parody of a pleased expression. "Good. Good! You have brought him to us. First we will feed upon him to make him compliant. Then you will mate."
"You'll never touch him!" Moira snarled, but her knees buckled under her.
"Moira!" John shouted. He stepped back, fired his P90 into the panel. Sparks flew. Crystals shattered into a million pieces. But the door held. "Damn it! No! Not like this!" he shouted, firing at the door, at the window recess. The glass held. He fired at the panel. The door opened a few inches. Froze again.
The Wraith stepped closer to her, unafraid. Unconcerned. Held out a hand. Trying to force Moira to her knees. "You will do as I command. Then we will feed. Such defiance will be doubly sweet to feed upon."
The sound of gunfire, of John's shouting voice made the Wraith look over at the door for a moment. It was all that Moira needed. She pushed herself back to a standing position, fired. Fired. The queen staggered with the bullets hitting her. But still stood, still smiled. Moira stared, but kept firing.
John shoved with all of his might, grunting with the strain of both pushing the door and the pulsing reverberations along every nerve. He half fell, half ran through the opening, squeezing his body through the narrow gap. He swung his gun to fire. Slowed to walk.
Moira was still firing but the gun was out of ammunition. The pulse abruptly stopped. The only sound was the empty clicking of the trigger. The gasping wheezes of the Wraith sprawled on the floor. John stepped to Moira's side, looked down at the queen.
"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, finding he could move again, could think. He ran to the door, shoved it open with a tremendous push. He ran into the room.
John held up his hand, halting the Satedan. The Wraith queen's body writhed. Still alive. Her eyes opened. Her mouth moved but no words were audible. "That's not enough," John said gently. "You need more firepower." He took the gun from her hands, prying her fingers off the trigger, the handle. Replaced it with his P90. He positioned her hands upon it. "Use this to–"
His words were barely out of his mouth when she resumed shooting.
John replaced the clip in the 9mm, holstered it. Silence fell as the P90 was emptied into the Wraith. A few more empty clicks, then complete silence. John waited until Moira's finger had stopped on the trigger. He eyed the now mangled corpse of the queen. Blood pooling under it, upon it. A grisly mess of flesh and bone. John took the P90 from her hands, reloaded it.
Ronon stood watching, impressed. "You chose one hell of a woman," he commented. Approval in his voice.
John turned to him. "Status?"
"Pinned down at the ridge. Taking some fire."
"Sheppard!" Rodney's voice shouted over the radio. "We're under attack! Where the–" Gunfire broke into his words, cut the transmission.
"On our way, Rodney! Hold your twenty! Ronon, grab the C4 in my pack, out there! We're going to blow this abomination to hell."
Ronon grinned. "Sounds like a plan." He whirled to get the explosives.
"John..." Moira's limbs finally unfroze. She stared at the dead, bloodied Wraith at her feet. Slowly, slowly turned to him, shocked.
"Moira." He caught her as she flung herself against him, suppressing a sob, a shudder. "I need you to be strong now, Moira. You need to be strong so we can get out of here, sweetheart. I know you can do this. Hold it together, okay?" he murmured into her ear.
She pulled back from him, tried to smile. "Sweetheart?"
He smiled, freed her as Ronon returned, tossed him some C4. John caught the bars. "Place it at strategic points. There. There," he pointed. "Set for five minutes."
"Five? That's not a lot of time," Ronon noted, moving round to place the explosives.
John did the same. "Then we'll have to run. No time to stop at the souvenir shop."
"She okay?" Ronon asked, glancing at Moira. Her frozen stance, stare at nothing.
"She's fine. Okay, let's get the hell out of here. Moira." He took her hand, pulled her.
Breaking into a run they crossed the room. Ran along the corridors, up the stairs.
"Three! Let's go!" John urged. They ran out of the temple towards the ridge.
"Shep–" Rodney shouted, catching sight of them.
"Two! The temple's going to blow! We can use the distraction to escape! Veer left, then straight for the village and the 'Gate!" John ordered as they reached the others. "Teyla, Ronon, flank. Lorne, take point! Scientists in the middle ahead of me! Shoot to kill!"
"What? Those are still people, colonel," Carson objected.
"They are Wraith worshipers," Ronon growled.
"One. Down," John said calmly.
Explosions ripped the ground. Like an earthquake the land rumbled, then the temple blew skyward. Chunks of earth and rock and equipment flew in a wide arc, straight up, then straight down. Bombarding the ridge and the fields.
"Go, go!" John ordered as the crowd let out a simultaneous moan.
The team ran, dodging in a swerving arc towards the village. Teyla and Evan were shooting their P90s as cover fire for the rest. Many of the villagers fell back. More surged forward, returning fire. Bullets flew. Lasers singed the air, the grass.
"Ow!" A blast singed past Rodney, barely missing him.
Ronon fired his big gun, taking down many. John kept firing, running alongside the civilians, trying to shield them as best he could. "I said shoot to kill! That's an order!" he shouted as Evan and Teyla were creating a line of fire to hinder the enemy, not firing directly into them.
"Yes, sir!" Evan raised his weapon to hit the crowd surging around them. Teyla did the same with noted reluctance. Reaching the village they found it deserted.
"Go, go!" Ronon whirled, covering their retreat, crouching behind the fountain.
"Teyla, dial the DHD! Go!" John shouted, skidding to a halt farther along, firing to cover them. "Ronon, go!"
The big man ran under covering fire to John's side. "Those are Wraith stunners!"
"Yeah. They want us alive." A bullet pinged the wall. "Not you, though."
"Nice!" Ronon grunted.
"Dialing! IDC! We're good to go!" Teyla shouted over the radio. Herding the scientists into the wormhole as it shimmered.
Suddenly the head man simulacrum appeared and began its speech. John stood, shot through it more out of annoyance than any actual hope it would stop the program. "I hate re-runs. Let's go!" He ran with Ronon towards the Stargate.
"Go!" Ronon shot his gun as John entered the wormhole, then leapt backwards to follow him...
...and landed on his butt as the wormhole shut down. The Iris closed. "That was close. Ow."
Teyla laughed. "Nice landing."
"You two. The infirmary. Now!" Carson ordered, herding Moira and Evan to the medical bay.
Elizabeth shook her head, hands on hips as John hauled Ronon to his feet, smirked at the Satedan's graceful entrance. "Well?"
"The whole thing was an illusion! I mean, the village, the head man, the crops, the cattle! Quite remarkable, really!" Rodney enthused, shaking the dirt off his jacket. "A generated subsonic pulse creating a very realistic hologram to–"
"Pain. Damn that thing hurt," John complained, rubbing his temple. "And those worshipers were real enough. We blew the temple and the lab sky high."
"All right. We'll debrief shortly. What about Moira and Evan?"
"They recovered their memories," John answered. "Both should be fine now."
"And did they remember what happened to them?" Elizabeth asked.
"Not in so many words, no. But I think Carson knows some of it. Whatever experiments the Wraith were conducting they were not pleasant," Rodney remarked.
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John entered the infirmary. It was empty. He strolled through it, saw the doors to the private examining rooms closed. "Carson?" he called.
Carson stepped out of one. Stark white lab coat over his clothing. "Colonel?"
"Where's–"
"They both are having complete physicals. The old-fashioned way. I'm tending to Evan and I have Sara taking care of Moira. Come back in an hour."
"Oh." John glanced at the doors again. "Are they okay?"
"I believe so. That's what I'm trying to determine. Now shoo." Carson gestured, returned to the private room.
John sighed. Stared at the closed doors. Worrying. Wondering.
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Evan sat on one of the infirmary beds, lacing and unlacing his fingers as he waited. Finally watched as Moira stepped out of one of the private rooms. She glanced at him, sat on an opposite bed. An awkward silence followed. Extended. Awkward glances were exchanged.
Finally Evan asked, "You okay?"
"Yes. You?"
"Yes." Another lengthy silence. Eyes moving around the room. Looking at everything but each other. Waiting. "So..." Evan blurted at last, "you and the colonel?"
She met his gaze, narrowed her eyes in warning. "Don't start."
He shrugged. "I'm not." A pause. "I'm just saying." Another pause. "You know. You know there have been other women. Lots."
She sighed. "Why does everyone keep telling me that? I know. He's a colonel, not a monk."
"I'm just saying, is all. I mean...you know it won't last. It won't mean...I mean...I hate to see you get hurt, is all. You know. When he breaks up with you, I mean... which he will." A long pause. Evan glancing at his fingers. Moira staring moodily at her feet. "So...um...did we?"
"No." Her voice was soft. Assured.
"Are you certain?" he asked, gaze moving over her.
She met his speculative expression. "Yes. Absolutely, now. Don't ask how," she warned. Annoyed at the uncomfortable topic, the uncomfortable exam.
He acquiesced. "Okay."
"All right, then," Carson joined them. "You're both fine. Nothing on the scans, nothing in the blood work, nothing from the physical exams. Except a cut lip on you, Evan, and some abrasions on you, Moira. Now, you may have more memories, bad dreams, and that is only natural considering the trauma you both have–"
"Abrasions?" Evan asked, eying her again.
"On my knees from being dragged," Moira clarified. Suddenly colored as she realized what he had been thinking. She shifted on the bed, legs tightly closed. Stared at the floor.
"Off you go, then. Get some rest. Have something to eat first. If you need a sleeping pill I can provide one. Moira, wait please."
Evan eyed her again, concerned, curious. But he quietly left. Moira watched him go, shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the doctor. "I... I am okay, right?"
Carson sat across from her. "Yes, love, you are fine. Nothing was done to you. Nothing was taken from you. Everything is fine, complete, and where it should be."
She released the breath she had not realized she had been holding. "I...I suppose any invasive procedures would have been more detrimental to her goals. Carson...would it...would it have worked? Would it have actually worked?"
"Moira..." Carson sighed. "When I think of what you must have endured, what those creatures wanted to do to you...over and over to produce viable specimens...my God, Moira! What you would have had to endure!"
"Please, Carson,"she said, a wave of tears threatening, "don't. I don't want to break down again. I already did once and it was not pleasant. If I do it again I won't be able to handle it, and your kindness, your compassion...they're about to break me!" She stared at the floor. Shivered. "Just, just answer me. Clinically. One scientist to another."
Carson sighed. "I don't know if I can, Moira. It was you, not some theoretical–"
"Then don't think of me! Think of it as a theoretical question. Please."
Carson patted her knee. "All right, love." He took a breath, considered. "Clinically, it could have possibly worked. To produce viable specimens with the ATA gene there can be no doubt, although as you know it's a fifty-fifty chance that any offspring would inherit the gene from either parent. But whether or not those would be compatible with the Wraith genome is another matter. I suspect not. Although I think our artificial gene would not be compatible at all."
Moira stared at the floor, recovering composure. Calming emotion. Focusing on the science. "Because it is artificial. But what about the natural gene?"
"There is a slight difference between the two. The therapy does not work on every human, as you know. So I doubt it would work at all on the Wraith. Now...the natural gene...might bond to the human part of their genome...but it would be a very tricky process. To introduce it into the human part of their genetic code."
"Because it would only bond to the human DNA, right? Not the Iratus bug?"
"Exactly."
"But if what I contend is true, that the Wraith are more than a single combination of the two species but a new combined species of both genomes–"
"Then the natural gene would have a greater chance of successful implantation," Carson finished for her. "But how it would work, and whether it would be blocked by the enzyme, or bond to a specific protein...that I do not know. And I hope to God we never find out."
Moira finally met his gaze. "It...it was horrible, Carson," she whispered.
"I can well imagine, love. But then again, I can't, being a man." She nodded. He squeezed her knee gently, stood. "You know that Doctor Heightmeyer is available if you need to talk."
"No...I'm fine. Unless, unless you don't want me to talk to you," she said, words a rush as sudden panic filled her.
"Of course I want you to talk to me, Moira. It just might be easier talking to her. Being a woman and all," he explained with a smile. "You can talk to me any time, Moira. About anything."
She smiled briefly. "Thank you, Carson." She hesitated. He waited, seeing the look on her face. The words wanting to spill out of her. She sighed, looked at her hands. "I can't believe what I did. I mean...shooting that Wraith queen over and over. I couldn't stop."
"You had every reason not to stop."
Moira looked up as Carson looked over to see John join them, his quiet words firm, sure. His gaze moved from Moira to Carson, who nodded. John regarded Moira. She had looked away again, tears shining in her brown eyes, an expression of misery on her face. "I know. I...when I remembered all of it I had to find her. To stop her. For what she did to me. To Evan. For what she was going to do to me. For what she was going to do to you, John," she paused, glancing at him, then studying her hands again. "I couldn't allow that."
"And you didn't, Moira. You didn't." John looked at Carson, questions swirling in his mind, but unasked. Gestured instead.
Carson nodded. "Moira, you should get some rest now, love. Have something to eat."
She sighed, stood. "I really, really need a shower."
"I wasn't going to say anything but..." John gently teased.
She met his gaze, smiled at his attempt at humor. "Thanks for that, colonel." She moved past the men, quickly exited the infirmary.
John stared after her. "Carson, is she all right? I mean really all right?"
"Yes. She's fine. Physically. Emotionally, well...it's been hell."
"I know that. I–"
"No. No, you don't know, John. No, I'll leave it at that," Carson stated, stopping the questions forming on John's lips. "Don't you dare press her. Just leave her be, for now. All right? The poor lass has been through quite enough without you pressing her and pushing her for details."
John frowned. "Fine. I wasn't going to push or press or ask for–"
"Like hell you weren't, John, please," Carson remonstrated. "Leave her be. That is my direct order, as she is still my patient and under my care."
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Moira jolted out of bed, panic strangling her. She struggled with the blankets until realizing she was safe in her room. The cocoon were only the sheets tangled around her. Nevertheless she got out of the bed, stood uneasily in the dark. Rubbed her tired eyes, tender from the sobbing she had endured in the shower, succumbing to the horrors. Feeling better from the emotional release she had fallen fast asleep. Until scattered images had invaded.
Fear lined her throat, made her heart jump. Fear of whether or not this was real. Was just another illusion planted in her mind by the Wraith queen. A quiet voice in her head suggested she had never made it off that planet, out of that room. She tried to calm herself, failed. She pulled on a t-shirt, pants, deciding.
Evan tossed and turned, moaned at remembered pain. The room. The Wraith queen's sadistic pleasure in torturing them, taunting them. Treating them like lab rats. He recalled arguing with Moira over what to do. Her rejection of having sex with him. Her adamant refusal to betray John. His kissing of her, moving against her. Her body squirming beneath his as simulated joining with her. As he joined with her.
Evan woke, stared at the darkness of his room. Thoughts confused, tangled. His body reacting to the dream. Wondered if it was a dream or a memory. Thought about Moira in ways he hadn't previously considered. Still startled by the revelation of whom she was seeing. He jumped out of the bed, hastily pulled on some clothes.
John tossed and turned. Images filled his brain. The lab. The assault on Moira. The Wraith queen's mangled corpse. Pushing Moira to remember. The phrases. Breeding. Mating. ATA gene. Specimens. A disjointed image of Carson, scolding him not to push her, not to push her. Accusing him of killing her. Killing Moira.
John jolted awake, sat up and flung the blankets off his body. His heart hammered. He calmed his breathing, stared round the dark room. The dream had been so real, so vivid. He rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair. He slipped out of the bed, uncertain. Stood debating.
Evan stood outside Moira's room. He touched the door. Hesitated. Finally knocked. Knocked again, louder. "Moira?" He waited. Heard nothing. He opened the door. Stepped inside. Saw the empty room, rumpled bed. The empty bed. Wondered where she had gone.
Moira stood outside John's room. Hesitated. Touched the door, felt its solidity, its reality. She drew back her hand, formed a fist to knock when the door opened suddenly. Her fist landed squarely on John's chest. She stared at him. His rumpled hair, the navy t-shirt and navy plaid boxer shorts he wore.
John stared back at her. The messy, loose hair, wide brown eyes, hastily pulled on green shirt and khaki pants. "Ow," he mildly complained.
"Oh!" She lowered her hand, embarrassed. "John."
He pulled her into his room, into his arms, kissing her as he closed the door. "Moira." He pulled back to release her as she sighed. "Couldn't sleep?"
She stepped away from him, uncertain. Awkward. "I...for awhile. I had...I had to be sure." She sat on his bed, felt its mattress, the tangled blankets.
"Sure?" He sat next to her. Waited. Laid back suddenly, scooting up to the pillows. "Moira?"
She relaxed, laid next to him, nestled close as his arm encircled her. She rested her head on his chest, ran her fingers up the fabric of his shirt. "I had to be sure. I was back. That this wasn't some horribly cruel illusion. I...I needed to see you, John. To feel you. To have you be real."
His warm, solid body comforted her.
"I'm real. We're in Atlantis. Safe," he assured, caressing her back. "I'm sorry. I thought...Carson said to leave you be. He was quite emphatic. So I did. But I couldn't sleep either, Moira."
"Seems to be going around," she remarked. She caressed his chest, shifting against him. "John Sheppard."
"Don't do that. It was way too creepy," he commented, feeling a shudder remembering the odd repetition of his name. The trigger.
"Sorry." She shifted again. Her fingers sliding down now to his shorts. To caress against the fabric, traveling a most intimate route.
Puzzled he lifted his hand to catch hers but stopped. Her touch felt so good, so very good as she stroked, teased, finding her objective. "Moira? I...I didn't expect this. I didn't think you'd be...um...I thought sex was the last thing you'd want. Do you want to have sex?" he asked.
"No. Yes. No." She sighed, moving to view his face, caressing all the while. "John." She kissed him, light, almost shy kisses trailing his lips, his jaw, his throat. "I need...how can I explain this?"
"What do you need?" he asked, catching strands of her hair in his fingers. With the other hand he stroked her back. Felt no bra under the t-shirt. Tried to ignore the wonderful things he fingers were making him feel. Making him want.
"I need..." She sighed, met his gaze. "John. I need you to...um...I need you to make love to me," she finally informed, her voice soft. A blush warmed her cheeks. Her expression was serious, almost grave, brown eyes somber. "Do you know what I mean?"
He stared at her, captivated. "Yes. I think I know what to–"
"No." She lightly brushed her lips against his. "Not...not just...not just sex. Well, yes, obviously, but not just that. I need you to...I need you to make love to me. I need to be..." She sighed, frustrated at her inability, her reluctance to express herself. "I need...I feel...John, I..." The word hovered on the air, unspoken but shouting nevertheless. She bit her lower lip, chewed a moment, debating, debating. "Damn it, John! I....I need to feel..." She couldn't say it. Was afraid to say it. Afraid to not say it. Ready to give up, to flee, began to move away from him.
Suddenly she was beneath him. He kissed her gently, ran his mouth over to her ear. "Loved," he finished for her, as reluctant as she was to say it, to say anything out loud like that. He nibbled her earlobe, making her murmur, shift under him. Ran his mouth down her throat. His hands slid gently down her waist to unbutton, to unzip, to gently, oh so gently caress. "I know."
She touched his chest, halting him. "Do you? I mean, I mean, do you know the difference?"
He kissed her again. "Yes, Moira, I do. Trust me."
"I...I just need to feel you are real, you are solid, you're you, not some phantom," she explained shakily, a few tears spilling.
He kissed them away, kissed her lips, her throat. "I'm no phantom. I'm real. I'm here with you and I will make love with you. Loving you into safety and security," he soothed, pulling down her pants, removing them. Shifting his body, hers, as he repeated the actions with her panties.
He removed his shorts, pressing against her now.
"John..." she whispered, half worriedly, half pleasurably. She pulled him closer, closer still.
"Moira..." He slid her shirt up, began a tantalizing progression of kisses. "I do know how to do this."
"So I've heard," she wryly commented, relaxing.
"What?" He lifted his head to meet her loving gaze. Smiled.
She smiled. "It doesn't matter."