Work Text
About three days after shooting the bug spray out the airlock at hyperspeed, they landed on the hearth planet. And it was amazing. Like something out of a dream. The gas giant up in orbit overhead was visible both day and night, streaked in powder blues, teals, peaches, and flax yellow, with just a few wisps of lavender swirling about the purple storm spots. The planet was about as bright as dawn during the mornings, and resembled dusk in the afternoons. The stars were visible both day and night. But there was enough light to allow for plant growth. The foliage was abundant, and plants John knew and those he’d never seen before grew up from the soil, fragrancing the air with their flowers and fruit. The problem was, it had been three more days since then and he hadn’t been able to see Guide yet.
Which was weird. Up until the day before they landed, he had thought they had been getting closer. He had even been starting to have a hard time ignoring the way he constantly found the Wraith in his thoughts whenever his mind would wander. There had been several difficult moments for John where he’d been tempted to hurt himself when Guide had come to him, and those occasions often ended with their foreheads pressed together, and left hands behind each other's heads and their right hands over the other’s heart. He had come to find out that this was more than just a greeting. It could be an act of comfort, affection, or acknowledgement. Sometimes, it was intimacy. It all depended on context, but these moments were lasting longer and longer. So this sudden change in their interaction had John worried sick. He knew something was going on. Especially because he’d been having a rough day, and the temptation was there. Yet, his brother did not come to him.
The village where they lived had been where they had landed the hive and he had been quickly whisked away to his own dwelling, and he hadn’t seen him at all the day before they landed either. So four days without seeing his brother, and the odd tension around the central fire they kept burning was palpable. The dwellings were similar enough to the ones the Athosians used, though they were a bit more heat tight than even theirs, and unlike the portable shelters they used, they had an inground foundation, and were taller, with multiple rooms that allowed even a full grown Wraith to stand comfortably. Some even had two floors. It was almost like Wraith biotech and Athosian architecture combined with a yurt and that had stone tiled floors with plenty of rugs and tapestries. Just none near the stoves that were used to heat the insides. And it was why they used stone instead of wood or other materials for the flooring. Though the stone was heat retaining. An unusual natural property Foresite had tried to explain to him more than once and had given up on.
It was strangely, nothing like the hive, and John wasn’t sure what to make of that at first. Was the material their homes made of biologically engineered? Certainly. Did the support structures look more like engineered bone than something that would be found and used as or processed into a building material? Absolutely. But they felt much cozier. A bit like how the family quarters felt in comparison to the public areas of the hive. But this was comparing the family quarters to their actual homes. Though imagining that Wraith homes were like hives would probably be a bit like the Wraith imagining that human homes on Earth would look like the Daedelus.
When they first touched down, he was taken to Guide’s Sire, First Light’s home, where Guide had grown up. He was in the company of Guide’s Grandsire that day, Coldwind, and they had shown him and Ronan around the first day, and there had been celebration when they had returned to welcome everyone home. It looked like the dock did when a navy ship made port, if John was being honest, with so many families waiting around to welcome loved ones home gathered, and many forehead to forehead greetings and wraithlings being held up in the arms of a parent as they made gleeful chirping noises. Cocoons were taken to storage, which John and Ronan kept far clear of, and other food items were unloaded for the younglings. Mostly, an assortment of different fruits, though there were vegetables amongst their cargo as well. Different bottles of alcohol, traded for amongst other Wraith clans on planets where the ingredients for these drinks were available. Drinks different clans were apparently known for.
But the rest of the cargo would wait until the next day. But Guide was conspicuously absent from the celebrations that night, and John couldn’t connect to him, like he was shielding himself. John was starting to suspect he knew what was happening rather than Guide avoiding him, and the light mood around the fire that first night was something John honestly enjoyed. There had been singing and chants in the strange harmonics like the ones Carson had described observing on the planet Michael’s hive used the retrovirus against when they started regaining their memory. As he sat beside Bonewhite, drinking a glass of nectar wine, he explained, “The frequency amplifies our telepathic abilities. It allows other hives of our clan to feel the joy of their brethren returning home safely, and share in our celebration.”
“There are peoples with similar vocal traditions on earth. Tonally I mean. But many, many chant based ones as well. Overtones are difficult for humans to master though, and not everyone can.” he says, listening to the sound of their voices and instruments as he nursed his drink. “My mother knew one of these techniques. It sounds very different from how it sounds in most techniques that use the throat like that. It uses higher notes. Most Earth cultures use lower overtones like yours though.” he says.
“You did not learn this?” Bonewhite asks incredulously. Everyone should know how to sing. Even if they weren’t good at it, it was good for emotional regulation. “Not what she was taught specifically with tonal changes, no. I mean, I can sing along to songs that just require you to use your normal singing voice, but my mother passed away when I was young. She had something similar to what Dr. Keller’s gene therapy caused your brother to develop. It was in her blood though. I’d have like to have learned more about her side of the family, but she was an only child and her parents died when I was in my 20’s. And as much as I enjoyed spending time with them, they weren’t the biggest fans of my father and they weren’t the biggest fans of him, so we didn’t become all that close until I was 16 and able to travel far enough on my own to visit them.”
“It is amazing to me how quickly history is forgotten. In just 2 to 4 generations, so much is lost. Amongst both our people, so many things end up being forgotten. Though through hard work, we have managed to rebuild much of what was lost. We have recovered much of what we thought we’d never have a chance to relearn though. You too may one day yet learn more. For now though, we can teach you our songs, if you would like.” Bonewhite offers.
John smiles at this and takes another sip of his drink. “I would be honored by that Kenny, as long as none of them are about bug spray.” He teases him.
Bonewhite lets out a rumbling laugh and assures him that they are not, though he should enjoy the opportunity to listen to their songs after imbibing, shortly before John and Ronan returned to First Light’s home to sleep.
When they woke the next morning, the convivial atmosphere disappeared, a sense of unease blanketing the village in the night, though nobody would tell him why, nor would they tell him where Guide was, nor what he was doing, though John was starting to have some sort of idea what was going on. But, he couldn’t connect with Guide to confirm, nor would anyone tell him. He had spent the second day wandering the village, trying to find the dwelling that belonged to his brother. He hadn’t had any luck, because it seemed that Guide’s family had been alerted to his tendency to heroics and had been told to redirect him.It was like a game of volleyball. John being volleyed between the short explanations he was given with regard to his brother’s absence, like, “Do not worry, John Sheppard. All will be well. He is just taking care of something important.” or “He will come to you when he is finished doing what it is that needs to be done. Be patient. Are you well?” Of course when he was asked this, he knew that they were referring to his habit, though it was only some of Guide’s older sons and the older Wraith than Guide who had been made aware of this, and he did appreciate that they wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to harm himself. Though that wasn't what was on his mind. He just wanted some familiar company on this new planet, and to make sure his brother was safe. Ronan was spending a lot of time with Coldwind, who looked quite like an older, greener Ronan with smaller, neater, decorated locks. He seemed to have finally found someone else who mourned for his people, and spending time with him was helping. He had heard Coldwind call him brother, even. He didn't want to take him from someone who was helping him heal.
Eventually, during the time younger Wraith took their evening meal, John finally managed to get it out of Bonewhite that what their brother had yet to see too was taking much longer than expected, and he had thought they were lucky to have made it in time.“And there's nobody who could help him through…” John pauses, gesturing vaguely, not knowing what word to use and looks at Bonewhite to help. “...Delivery.'' His brain finally supplied as they sat near the central area where the fire burned brightly, though not directly around it, where a group was gathered in what appeared to be a ritual chant, kneeling together in a circle.
Bonewhite understands and says, “It is called lay in our society, as our young are not born live. But there is no Wraith in this village that is not blood of ours, or blood of our blood. It would be improper for genetically linked family to assist. So through, Iceyes who is the Sire of his son's, his Father, a Wraith named Redclaw, is as blood, for example, and could not help, nor would his sire be able to if he still lived.” He explains.
John frowns. He could understand why it was taboo, but he got the sense that the eggs should have been laid by now. “It started before we got off the ship?” He asks worriedly. He didn't know jack shit about wraith physiology. But it didn't take this long for most human women. “Something's wrong?” John asks.
“He would normally have been long finished by now. But near as I can tell, he's yet to lay a single egg. It's coming upon a time that's abnormally long. We've sent word to a nearby hive with a layman on board. Most Wraith can have the supervision of a layman in a nearby village, but our generation is old. Many of his son's have sons of their own, and his son’s sons as well. He's even the 2nd great grandfather of a young queen, and his lineage is spread far on this planet, so Wraith our age typically are attended to by someone of another clan to ensure no inappropriate lines are crossed. But they are a ways out. And it's nearing a time where it may start to cause complications.” He admits.
John frowns, the lines in his face deepening. “And there’s nobody who can help?” John asks again, desperately.
“I am sorry Sheppard. Other clans may have worshipers attend, but we do not have those. We can only pray, if you believe in that.” Bonewhite says.
“Do you believe in it?” John asks, wondering if their prayers work the same way.
“I do.” Bonewhite says, pulling a pipe out of a small bag he wore that was able to be attached and detached from the ties of his pants at his sides. It contained a herbal blend he packed into the pipe, and he closed his eyes contemplatively. As if he was wondering the same thing. “What is it humans pray to?” He asks, lighting the pipe with a lighter he took off John when they searched his bags for anything that could have been used to hurt himself.
“It depends on the person or their culture. Different religions, cultures, and sometimes even the people in the same religion or culture may pray to something different. A lot of times, it's a higher power, maybe an ancestor, or something in nature. I know I haven't listed everything though. I’ve admittedly had a tenuous relationship with human spirituality because of their rules around relationships, so I’m pretty far from what you would call an expert. What do the Wraith pray to?”
“It is hard to explain in spoken word, but I will do my best. In stories, we personify our hives as goddesses, and each clan has its own hives, and therefore, what would be the equivalent of a human culture’s pantheon. When we pray, we connect telepathically to the hive by calling her name, and through her, to each other, and the hive connects to our clan’s other hives, our other goddesses, and those on board those hives. These hives can connect to the nearby hives of other clans, their goddesses, and through those hives, to all the clan’s hives Wraith aboard them, and hearth of the clans the hives ours connects to, so when a Wraith is in dire need, anyone of any clan can connect to this Wraith to help them through a telepathic hive network, as long as their within the range of our telepathy. Even one Wraith may have the experience to help save another’s life, or the lives of thousands of others. Once, 15 hives connected this way to liberate this very planet from a 10 month orbital siege, and it was through prayer that it was taken back. It is situations like these why sometimes, the goddesses of other clans appear in our stories. But it helps teach our history in a way that's age appropriate and without having to go into specifics if there are young ears or minds, or, elder ears or minds, who may have been there who do not wish to relive the details. There’s also the fact we cannot explain our telepathy, or our ability to connect as one species wide through science, and are unable to measure or quantify it, nor can we determine its mechanism, so we consider connecting like this to be an act of prayer, and the connection we have to each individual galaxy wide when in prayer sacred.”
John pauses, not sure what to say. It wasn’t really the same as the human concept of prayer. But in a way, it was the same. It was a form of communication in a way that was sacred, and it was aided by what was considered a goddess in Wraith mythology, which was based on historical events unique to their clan’s culture. And different human cultures, and even different religions in the same culture, had different rituals surrounding prayer. So even if it wasn’t how John personally would define it, he was open to understandings and interpretations different than his own, and felt that it was just as relevant as any other culture’s would be. Finally he settles on, “You know, that’s actually really beautiful Kenny. I’d like to hear a bit more about it if you're ever up for it. Words can’t do something like that justice though.”
“Of course. It grows late, and soon, we will have to retire to prepare for bed, but I will do my best to explain our clan’s specific ritual around prayer. We gather around a fire. Some clans stand and join hands, others sit, there are those like ourselves that kneel. Some hold hands, some place their hands on the ground, with their feeding hand atop the safe hand of the Wraith to their right so their feeding organ does not touch the ground, and it is unique to our clan to place our safe hand at the back of the neck of the wraith to our left, bow our head, and lay our feeding hand palm up before the fire. If we are on board the hive, all clan’s rituals I have knowledge of treat the heart of the hive as the fire.” He explains, exhaling the smoke he inhaled, lights the herbs in the pipe again and inhales deeply before continuing.
“Some clans have rituals that proceed one’s time spent in prayer. These can be obligatory, or optional, and can be clan wide, or spread among Wraith of the same planetary descent of their clan’s founders. Family lines or family groups may have their own specific rituals, or individuals. Some may bathe, some may imbibe in what humans in Pegasus sometimes call drugs or medicine to help open them to connection.” He exhales the smoke again and gestures to the pipe, inhaling more, and going on.“This is something I do often, as my mind has always shielded naturally. It’s almost like a telepathic partial block or selective mutism. So when used by Wraith like myself, who’s mind may be unique in some way, this is best translated as a sacred medicine. Unique minds have their advantages and challenges in our society. Those who naturally shield, like myself, for example, have an easier time keeping telepathic conversations private, and helping others experiencing distress keep their private thoughts private, both for the sake of their dignity and for the sake of keeping their distress from spreading to the hive and preserving its function. Oftentimes though, it’s harder to make meaningful connections, and it can make it harder for me to completely open in prayer too. This helps me. But since we do not know the mechanisms of our telepathy, we do not know why these differences exist, why medicines that work in different ways affect our interaction with the hivesense in the way that they do. We know why they alter our connection. We can measure changes in our physiology. We can analyze the chemical makeup and how these chemicals interact with our body chemistry. But we cannot say why they change the way they do, and why some things work better for some individuals than others. But for many, these medicines may be integral to their prayer.” he says, taking one more drawl before cleaning the ash out and placing it back in the pouch.
“I will do this both before and after I pray.” he adds, as if to explain that he had just finished praying. “It helps me to open my shields, and to close them slower, as to make it less of a shock to the mind. The shield will gradually close instead of slam shut. It’s not that it bothers me that it closes so quickly, per say, but it’s very relaxing to be connected to the hivemind and clan as I fall asleep.”
“And your mind being unique doesn’t bother you when it affects your spiritual life this way?” John asks. “A lot of times, when a human is a bit different, they end up an outsider in most of their social spheres, including their spiritual communities.” John explains. He’d seen it happen more often than he wanted to admit. Even within his own family. When he’d received a depression diagnosis his father had caused a scene, made it a topic of family discussion at holiday dinners, and made him the butt of a few jokes. And this was just depression, not to say that it wasn’t a big deal. But in the mental health world, depression was about as common as a cold. When his sister was diagnosed with bipolar, well, she’d stopped coming around, and at his father’s funeral, he’d learned she’d stopped being invited. Bipolar was more like the flu of the mental health world. They didn’t even see her at church, even though his dad and all his siblings dragged all their kids to the church they all grew up going to every Sunday.
“Not at all, Colonel Sheppard. The differences uniqueness of mind creates are not things that are frowned upon in and of themselves. Certain intentions and compulsions that we pick up on can cause complete excommunication from the hive, clan, and clans we ally with, and even enemy clans are reluctant to take these Wraith, though we do not have to guess at what you would call red flag behavior quite as much. We do not excommunicate based on different minds, or on a condition that affects the mind. What we call chronic anguish, your people call depression, and yet, my brother is still a leader of our family and clan. And as for how this affects our spirituality, it brings us into prayer more often than some of a typical mind. Often, if a uniquely minded Wraith chooses a civilian life, they often become some of our most trusted spiritual leaders. You could say we’re experts in ways to pray effectively.” he says.
John smiles at that and says, “You know, differently minded humans often become experts in prayer too. But it’s pretty cool that you guys acknowledge that instead of just saying someone is crazy because they think a little differently.”
“How humans treat their differently minded is a sad thing. I will often feed on village leaders who try to keep us from culling by offering those you would call mentally ill, though those worlds often call them insane. Or those of physical limitations. But come John. Let’s return to First Light’s dwelling. We can speak more on this tomorrow if you want.” he says, standing up and offering his left hand. John takes it and Kenny pulls him to standing and they head back to the place he had slept that first night, but on the walk he realizes that he hadn’t just learned about Wraith spirituality.
He stops in the doorway when he realizes that he and Ronan were the only two here who could help Guide without overstepping a cultural taboo. If worshipers attended to Wraith in lay, then it was not taboo for a human to attend to them, and he very much doubted that Ronan would be any good at this. Not that Rodney had been a first rate midwife either.
That left him.
If things were getting dangerous for Guide, then he was the only one who could do this in a timely manner, then he would.
He couldn’t just sit idly by. He didn’t know if this could kill him, and he didn’t want to find out. The thought made him start to panic, and that’s when he felt something he hadn’t felt in days. It was small at first. Like an itch or tickle at the back of his mind, that he hardly noticed. But when his pulse quickened and he started to sweat, the tickle turned into an insistent nudge, and John grabs onto the presence in his mind touching his in his own mind and pulls on it, trying to determine the direction he was in before the presence quickly retreats, but it was too late. John knew exactly where to look. He had followed the presence back like a red thread, traveling through the village and into the door of a dwelling. Thats where Guide was. So it was where he needed to go.
“I’m not blood.” John murmurs softly, standing in the doorway, almost too low for Bonewhite and First Light to hear.
Bonewhite turns to him as if to ask him to repeat himself, but John was already gone. Bonewhite had been about to run after him, but his Sire held him back. He briefly heard him telling Bonewhite that he was the only one nearby who could do anything. John hardly processed it. He was busily running across the village, not even registering that his hearing was better than usual. He was able to see in the dark. He knew all the paths to move to where he needed to be without being stopped. He only realized half way there that he was still connected to his brother by a thread. He could still access the information he needed to know.
As the last hours of night passed in to the first hours of his third morning on the planet, he made it to the place where his brother lived and stepped inside. The first thing he realized was that nothing had been used in the time they had landed. So he had no idea where his brother was, but he wasn't using the whole of the house. He starts checking all the rooms for him, making his way around and to the spiral staircase at the center of the structure. It was warmer up here, and he heard the muffled sound of heavy breathing behind one of the many tapestries that separated the areas into smaller rooms.
“Todd, it’s me. Look, I know you need some kind of medical help. And between me and Ronan, I think I’m probably the better choice but, I have no idea what I’m doing. Will you let me in, and let those praying with you connect to the bond. This alliance needs both of us…” he says. He wasn’t sure if Guide could hear the silent plea he sent him. That he needed him. He couldn’t watch him die. Home wouldn’t be home any more without him . He couldn’t live through that again . That he had become important to him. And just as he was starting to think that his brother wouldn’t allow him to help, he feels Guide pushing his importance to him as well through the bond, but he wanted to make him fully aware of what this would mean in their culture, if he were to do this, and what attending to him in lay would entail. It was no small offer. But for him to explain, John could come in. He wanted to see that he was well.
John steps in and immediately rushes to his side, taking him in with alarm.
His hair was wet with sweat and matted, his face was flushed a deeper green with exertion, and the way he shook as he kneeled at what looked like a small bundle of insect silk in the center of a nest of blankets, silks, pillows, and furs. He was dressed in what looked a lot like a simple black silk bathrobe, but rather than tying with a tie around the waist that cinched in the fabric, it tied on either side and hung loosely around his body while protecting his modesty. He could tell that he was inside that silk bundle, but between the garment and the bundle, he couldn’t see anything that would be personal at this moment. But before they even started talking he quickly scans the room for anything that would help him right now. Just at the touch of his hand to his cheek, he knew he was warm, and he quickly finds a spare rag and basin of water and quickly wets it, wiping his face down and placing the cloth on the back of his neck, slowly moving his hair to the side, making sure to keep his hand firm, but still gentle enough that it wouldn’t bring up unwelcome memories during a vulnerable time.
The effect of this seemed to quickly cool the overheated Wraith, much to John’s relief, and the flush seemed to tone down, and the heat leaves his cheeks quickly, leaving his face cool under John’s fingertips, before Guide says, “Words cannot express my appreciation of your offer, John Sheppard, but going into this, there are several things that you must weigh making this kind of decision, first and foremost being that if you are to attend to me, you will share in my pain. I must make it very clear to you that I will not ask you to consent to that, though if you were to insist, I would be in no position to refuse. Second, is that this may require you to become physically involved. I cannot say what is wrong. When we connect to the mind of all Wraith in prayer, and through them, gather the Wraith that know how to help into prayer, you may need to manipulate the clutch in some way from the inside. Third, this is normally the responsibility of our mate. Because of this, even though we are not mated, you will be seen as the Sire of this clutch in our society, though it will not cause us to be seen as mates. But because you take the responsibility of bringing them into the world, it will be seen as carrying his will, and these younglings will bond to you telepathically as they would to him. Like their genetic sire, you gave them life. I cannot ask you to make a lifelong commitment without full knowledge that there will be no taking that back. You will be a parent, John Sheppard. And though I realize that is something you deeply desire, if this is not how you wish to become a parent, then I understand.”
John looks at Guide with an intensity that he had never seen before. At first he wasn’t sure what to say, but eventually, what came out of his mouth was, “Tell me what to do.”
“Sheppard?” Guide asks.
“Todd, having to check the status of a delivery manually or manipulate the position of a baby is pretty par for the course. Nothing to be embarrassed of. And if it helps you and your children make it through this safely, then that’s what helps. As for the telepathic stuff, then if I’m going to feel this, I would expect to be involved in their lives anyway. Being called a parent in your society would be an honor. I wouldn’t want you to feel that you owed me that, but after losing Charlie I never thought I would have that chance. I'm taking it. Now what do I do?” He asks, looking him in the eyes.
He wasn’t about to let his brother, this new family, be ripped away from him. It was different. Nobody would ever be Charlie, but there would never be another Guide either, and one day, maybe it would shift to a similar nature, what they had between them. They both understood neither of them were ready for that yet. But there was something between them that they were both aware of. But they would not rush it just because of this, or anything else. But the path of finding love again, especially when theirs' ended tragically and dramatically, going up like an exploding engine instead of slowly running out of power as love between them slowly died, was often full of unexpected turns.No, the path to finding love after having it ripped away was complicated at the best of times, and the road was unconventional. And part of that could be that milestones or timelines didn’t always follow the conventional order of things. That could include milestones like parenthood. But if John backed out now, neither of them may ever have the chance to see where that path led. And even if Guide survived, he didn’t deserve to grieve the last children of his mate after having already lost him.He could not do this to someone he’d fallen in love with. He couldn’t say when that’s what it had become, but it was long before he trusted him. Before he’d found him physically attractive. But it hadn’t been in captivity with him. He thought it may have been that moment where he realized that he had returned what he had taken. And more. But he couldn’t let himself feel it yet.
If he could love him before he learned to trust him, they could become parents before their first date. They could become family before they committed to each other. And he could feel deeply romantically inclined to him without it having any sexual component yet. They could share some of the most intimate moments of their lives, without having ever been intimate.
He feels Guide’s affirmation weaving around his thoughts, his gratitude washing over him body and mind, accepting his stated decision and the logic of the thoughts regarding his motivation, and his understanding of their unconventional relationship, and inclines his head in acceptance and gratitude, but he doesn’t close his eyes, instead, they meet his with the same intensity and urgency.
“Get behind me Sheppard. Part of what is delaying things is my muscles for some reason are not gripping the eggs and moving them despite contracting for hours, and because of this, I am exhausted, and am unable to remain fully within the nest. With our insect physiology, we’re prone to curling in on ourselves, so I need my hips held still and your hand under the bottom of the nest. An attendant keeps a laboring Wraith’s hips restrained by kneeling on their legs and leaning forward into them in order to keep one hand free for medical intervention. When I withdraw by accident as I curl in, it undoes significant progress. The environment must be warm, and the cooling temperature has been impeding any progress. At this point, I can only assume this is imperative that I have assistance, as our kidney function significantly slows, and this causes a host of toxic build up and endocrine irregularities, and the longer lay lasts, the more dangerous it becomes. We also link telepathically now, and through me, link with the Wraith praying for me, while mentally staying between me and them. You tell them what you feel, and they will look for someone who has addressed whatever it is you find. Through those praying for me, link with that Wraith, who knows what to do, so that they may link to me. This or these Wraith will walk us both through what exactly needs to be done so that I may safely progress. You may link when you are ready.”
John reaches out with his mind, attaching it to Guide’s. Like they had practiced on their days aboard the hive. Then he reaches out toward the central fire as he takes his place behind Guide, placing his hand under the silk that he now realized from the whisps on his right hand, had come from his feeding organ. He places his hand beside his, supporting it from the bottom and holding it flush to him. He’s immediately pulled deeper into the hive sense than he had been in all the times he had practiced it.
And the pain! The horrible pain! It tore through his abdomen, hips and lower back. His kidneys ached, and the burning in his groin was like trying to pass a huge kidney stone. He groans, instinctively pushing Guide forward as his hips flexed in agony, his back arching and breaking out in a sweat.
A wash of cool blue comfort washes over him, and through him, to Guide, from the Wraith praying at the fire, as they reach out to their hive, The Just Fortune, and through her, to the layman who was en route, who instructs him to reach under his robe and reach inside, and feel for his egg sack. First, they needed to verify that it had dropped to the right place to align the eggs with the muscles of the organ that would deposit them into the silk. He helps John find the right place, and it was where it should be, so it was not a problem of being stuck in early lay, he was stuck in active lay.
Next his fingers carefully feel around the sack, trying to find eggs. He could feel the shock of the layman to feel it so empty. This clutch was tiny. All and all, John had only been able to feel one singular small egg. It was definitely male. It was too small to be a queen. The Layman can only surmise that his body must have reabsorbed most of the eggs while he was in captivity. But because there were so few eggs developing in the membrane inside his egg sack, the muscles weren’t gripping the clutch and moving it forward. It would have to be manually manipulated into the narrowest part of the sack, but he had never delivered a singular egg. He’d never even heard of this, and he would tell the Wraith in prayer to reach out to anyone who may have experience in such an unusual situation. But for now, they keep pressing forward gently to try to position the egg correctly. He feels their connection fleeting to hundreds of praying minds, like an electrical signal, each of them reaching out to thousands of others, across clans and hives, until two Wraith connect directly with the Laymen.
Both of them were old. Ancient even by Wraith standards. Two of the original 100. One had been an Anavan doctor in his life before becoming Wraith, and his mate had been Vadeenan. This doctor had become their first layman. Together, they had successfully ensured the safety of a singular egg being delivered. The very first, as it happened, to be born Wrath, as when they were held by the ancients, their eggs had all been reabsorbed, as they had not been able to lay somewhere so cold. They suspected this was by design. When they escaped the frozen planet with their human benefactors, he had been the first one with a paused reproductive cycle to enter lay, that he’d been carrying for 300 years. The egg had made it, and it had been the first of their eggs to ever have hatched. This son, Firstone, still lived. And that they would bring Guide through this successfully too.
John understood that having first in your name was an honor of sorts in their culture. And nobody could be named for them precisely, it would be changed to second, third, and so forth. And he was the first Wraith born of two Wraith parents, and first and only they knew of in their history to be born alone, but since their creation, none had been forced to delay lay so long until now. The Sire of Firstone, the Layman, was named Legacy, because he ensured the Legacy of his species, and he connected with John, feeling what he felt with regard to the position of the egg, and John understood how he had to move the egg, gently forward each time his abdominal muscles tightened.
Firstone’s father, a retired Commander who had been at the first wave of the siege of Atlantis, was named Hellfire, and he had been legendary to Guide even when growing up. He was a commander who had been genetically closer to their queens than most of the population, like Guide was, in the times before their numbers grew so low, when the queens still preferred to keep Wraith like them as their commanders. One of his heroes from an allied clan. The one who had forced the Lantians to take refuge under the ocean. And he connected his mind to Guide’s, helping to keep him calm and keep his breathing steady. Though neither of them were there physically, they could both feel the comfort and calm they projected in a physical way. And annoyance at his being too stubborn to connect with all those across the galaxy in prayer for him for days.
Gradually, the egg was pushed forward to the narrowest part of the egg sack, Guide only giving an exhausted, but compulsively independent look at their annoyance, but were the eggs of a larger clutch, they would start to be lined up one by one here, and finally, neither John nor Guide could feel their abdominal muscles trying to grip something that wasn’t there. Not that this sensation felt much better in terms of pain. It felt more natural though. His body would be able to take it from here. Despite the shockingly small number, it was an easy fix, and he could have finished aboard his ship were he not so stubborn.
Legacy tells John that he can withdrawal and to wash his hands now that there was a rest in the contractions and his body could lay naturally from here, and to get another rag wet for Guide with his clean hand, and they reach out to the praying Wraith to have clean warm water brought outside the room. John quickly does as instructed, and after wetting another rag, he washes his hand and gets back behind Guide, placing one hand under the bundle of silk threads, then uses the other hand to wipe his forehead clean and keep him cool. He places this one at the bottom of the back of his neck, right between his shoulders, then instinctively places his other hand at the small of his back so he could push forward. And not a moment too soon. Another wave of pain grips them both, and though Guide’s body tries to curl up, John falls against him in pain, pushing him forward.
What felt like hours took only minutes as the egg pushed forward, and Guide willed it out of him. Willed this last child to live. He was exhausted. After 4 days of this he's ready for it to be over. And his body seemed to be ready for it too. It knew it could not hold out like this much longer. And with 3 waves of a greater pain than any John had ever felt, pain that made time pass faster and slower at the same time, pain that washed down the lines where they were individuals, and felt impossible to survive, the egg landed gently in the bundle of silk threads. They each collapsed onto their sides, a hand still on the silk nest as Guide's hand subconsciously started closing it. He had withdrawn from it once it had been laid, and the robe he wore closed and protected his personal areas from view. He couldn't bring himself to move John’s arm, even as it rested over his side, and he smiled. It was over. And they were both okay. He could feel that. Both of them. His body temperature was lowering and his breathing was regulating. Both John’s and his own abdominal muscles were starting to relax, though they were still sore. The nest of silk threads was radiating warmth, and he could feel a tiny, sleepy presence tucked against his mind like how a kitten would tuck itself under your chin.
That was Guide’s son.
Iceyes’ son.
His own son.
It dawns on him then. That now that this had come to pass safely, this was his child. Guide had given him what he thought he would never again have a chance at. His arm moves from the bundle to rest at his Brother's shoulder, and he squeezes it tightly, silent tears running from his cheeks. He was feeling so many things, and all the minds retreated to let them have a moment.
He didn't need to say all these things that he was feeling. He just let the walls between them crumble, careful to protect the small, sleepy mind, and leans his forehead on the back of Guide's neck, leaving himself open so he could feel his relief, unexpected joy, and gratitude at this unexpected happening. He had so much he would need to learn to help take care of this tiny little one, but he would do everything he could to help him out.
John should have been less surprised to feel Guide returning his gratitude. He could feel the knowledge that this last one would have been reabsorbed, had John never freed him. That he was born into a safer world than most of their children because of him, if not all of them. He would be safe. Their alliance would be the best chance of that. The replicators were no longer a threat, and with widespread feeding and returning, they could solve the widespread poverty they had all known. John hadn't known how big an issue that actually was, but he had never seen a wraith of above average size in terms of fat content on the body. He’d only seen a change in Guide’s shape when he’d really looked for it, though most Wraith were a touch too thin to be considered healthy by human standards. He felt like perhaps, he should have noticed that sooner. His clan was no longer at war with John's though, and the time was now safer than any he remembered, thanks to John. This child lived because of him at least twice now. And now, this was something they shared. He turns to face the human, smiling at him like he hadn't before, at least not to him, and hands him the sack of threads. “Had you not come to our galaxy, this child may not have been born. And even if I had escaped the Genii, the world would look very different without you. He exists in the world as it is because of you and your people, John Sheppard. Thank you for protecting him.”
John takes the bundle and holds it close, keeping it warm, and leans his forehead against Guide’s. “Thank you for sharing this with me. No words can even come close to telling you what you gave me, though I suppose you already do know. You're going to need to teach me how to take care of him. How long until he hatches?” John asks.
“It will take 3 Lantian months. That's not long to learn, but we’ll figure it out. We should also come up with his spoken and telepathic names in that time.”
“We should get you cleaned up first and rest though. There's still plenty of time for all that.” He says.
“Indeed. Place this nest in the dip by the hearth. It’s covered with an oval stone. It will keep the egg at the right temperature to hatch. I’ll show you how to care for him after we rest. You are no doubt sore as well, John Sheppard. There is clean clothing in that wooden dresser right there. In the top drawer there should be several garments like this. They are for sleeping. If you can bring me one, I’ll change into something clean, and there should be some smaller ones from when my sons were younger. There should be some things the right size for you.” He offers, then goes on to add. “That is, if you feel up to looking. In that chest, there is clean material for the nest. I will get up now, and try to move around a bit. It is better for us to move around when trying to heal ourselves. I will do my best to assist you. But we will bathe properly tomorrow, hopefully, well after the day begins. I intend to rest well once it’s in an acceptable state to sleep here. You are free to stay in this room, where a fire is already stoked, or you can take one of the extra sleeping areas where some of my younger ones stay. The ones nearest the stairs are occupied by a couple of Ember’s clutch, and he remains here as well, but the ones nearest mine are free. It’s all up to you.”
John takes the bundle of silk to the wood burning stove where an oval stone rested in the floor near the door where fuel was added, and carefully lifts the lid off the dip and places the bundle of silk inside, and moves the cover back over it before helping Guide to stand and over to a table. He grabs the jug of warm water and bowl someone had set outside the room, and some clean rags for him. “Here. I’ll let you wipe down as much as you can on your own. If you need help let me know. I don’t want to touch you in a way your uncomfortable with, but if you need anything, just let me know, word or thought.” he says, setting them on the table, and Guide inclines his head thankfully as John goes and gets him some clean sleep clothes.
This set was green silk, sewn in the same pattern as the black clothing he was currently wearing, but more elaborately decorated, with black embroidery that featured iratus bug designs, silver flowers, and lighter green leaves, and golden beading around the neckline, hem, and arm holes, with small silver tassels hanging from the sleeves and hem. These ones were longer, but light, and covered about three quarters of his arms, but he’d observed most Wraith in this village wearing a lighter long sleeved garment, and figured it must be what was comfortable for them in their current season, but it wasn’t quite a full sleeve, nor was the garment heavy. He also grabbed a set of what he’d learned helping Frostfire with a very high Bonewhite were Wraith undergarments, just in case Guide wanted them, though he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t and places them on the table as Guide undressed and started wiping himself down, removing as much sweat from his body as he could and even wets his hair down a bit to at least rinse some of the sweat off his scalp.
John turns his back to this to allow him some privacy and turns his attention to the wooden chest that held bedding materials and the area where he slept, which was somewhat bed like, somewhat nest like. It dipped down into the floor where there was a soft mattress like cushion at the very bottom, and the sides were cushioned as well. It was lined with pillows, furs, silks, velvets, blankets, and cushions of various shapes and sizes. It looked like it would be comfortable to lie on in any direction.
He quickly removes anything damp with sweat or bodily fluids associated with the laying of the egg and puts them in a basket that had Guide’s leather uniform and the civilian clothes he wore under it that he had been wearing when he left the ship. John mentally asks him if that was laundry, and Guide gives him a mental affirmative, washing his face with a clean cloth and clean water, using a bit of soap that he kept on the table. John tosses the bedding in there and takes a closer look at the mattress. It looked to have a waterproof silk sheet of some kind covering it, and John quickly strips it off the cushion, that was more like a biofoam pad of some sort, and does the same with the cover to the side of the dip and places them with the rest of the laundry, then turns his attention to the chest.
It was carved of dark wood, with symbols of the Iratus bug, the gas giants, the sun, the moons, the stars, leaves, flowers, and fruits. The craftsmanship was amazing. Something like this would be priceless on Earth. But it didn’t look like there was any particular knack or trick to opening it, and when he pushed on the lid, it opened easily enough, and inside, he found a sky blue replacement set of sheets, several blankets, pillow cases, cushion shams, clean silks and furs, and started remaking the bed, trying to put everything back as he had found it. Much to his relief, the sheets and shams had protected everything they had covered because of the properties of the fabric. He’d have to ask about that later. But for now, he remakes the nest as close as he can remember it to how it had been previously arranged, and grabs what looks like a towel for Guide too from the chest, placing it on the table as he continued to sponge himself down, taking away 4 days worth of sweat and grime. When he started to wash lower areas, John excused himself to go find something that would be comfortable for him to rest in. Guide helpfully supplied him with the location of the garments he would be looking for. He kept them organized carefully because these could be reused with younger children, and they had never been intended not to last multiple childhoods. They weren’t wasteful with their textiles.
John smiles at that information, knowing that textile dye was very harmful to the environment back on Earth, and Guide mentally affirms that they had seen that on other human worlds. They used sustainable methods though, and part of that was making things to last. He finds the right place a moment later, and finds a simple black sleeping garment and pants that go with it, and brings it back to Guide’s sleeping area. The equivalent of his bedroom. He was just finishing up and was tying the sleep garment, looking at it affectionately. It was one of his comfiest sets of sleepwear, and most beautiful. It was given by his mate’s parents when his first clutch was laid. It was like John knew that in their culture, he was to be celebrated and cared for at this time. That parenthood was celebrated. That hardship was acknowledged. And it was the most dangerous part of their life cycle, and he had survived. The child would be celebrated the day of his hatching. Guide would be in the coming days. John had just grabbed the right piece for him, according to their customs.
“I have left some clean rags and hot water for you. When you are finished, I have one more favor to ask, if it is not too much. I understand if you are too sore to do so.” he says. John quickly helps Guide sit down in his nest, reclining comfortably at the side.
“A bit yeah. But I wasn’t going through that for 4 days.” John says.
Guide inclines his head graciously at his understanding as the human gets up and makes his way over to the small table and undresses, piling his clothes on the chair beside it and quickly washes up with the clean water and rinses his hair out before drying off in a towel Guide tosses him before dressing in the pajama set. It was super comfortable. Then John sits down beside him and says, “I’m too fucking sore to build another fucking fire tonight. I’ll just stay here. That way I’ll be close if you need anything too.” he says. “What was it you needed?”
Guide hands him the hairbrush that was sitting beside the nest, and turns so his back was facing him. “If you are unable to get through all of it, I understand, but if you can loosen it some before we rest, I would be grateful.”
“That’s no problem at all. Thank you for trusting me with this.” John says, getting on his knees and gently brushing through the ends of his hair. He recalled the conversation they had about hair outside Dr. Heightmeyer’s office. This was an incredible act of trust. Not just culturally for him either. Also because of what he had gone through when trapped in that bunker. He knew for sure that whatever was between them was now deeper than it ever had been before. Being trusted with this proved that. And he carefully detangled every hair on his head before adding a few more of the small braids that had been scattered about his hair. More and more had been added since He’d seen him outside Dr. Heightmeyer’s office, and if his brother stayed relaxed, he could finish it before they fell asleep.
Sure enough, he did maintain his calm through the process, and the last bit of silk like strands that had been tangled together were secured into small braids that were beaded with the last of the obsidian beads gifted to him by his late mate. He finally felt a little bit like himself again now, that the familiar weight pulled at his scalp. It wasn’t painful. Unlike with humans, quite the opposite. The extra weight helped prevent headaches by pulling at the skin enough to remain elastic instead of scaling at the scalp, which could lead to tension headaches.
When he finished, John turned to face him and leaned his forehead against his again. You look well now. Better than you have in the time I have known you. He thinks, smiling as their foreheads are still pressed together.
That is largely because of you, and your people, John Sheppard. You have once again, guaranteed my life beyond the day. Thank you. Guide thinks, not guarding his thoughts from him at all.
So you were in danger? John thinks, as if he were hoping guide would confirm or refute it honestly, though following in the true history of their relationship, Guide smiles at him before pulling away and laying his head on the mattress.
Get some rest John Sheppard. We’ll talk more on it in the morning. I am tired. John was about to argue with him, about to think something sassy, but he looks at Guide laying down in the nest, hair strewn about in neat little braids, and can’t help but realize his own exhaustion. He was spent too.
He lies down beside him, pulling the blanket up and closes his eyes. John’s just starting to drift off with thoughts of, One of these days, I’ll
figure out how to read him and whether or not he’s in trouble, his stubborn ass be damned.
They both fall asleep with a chuckle, as Guide’s thought of, You can read? Echoed through both their minds with a playful, yet sleepy lavender wave, washing the last of their consciousness away and letting them drift into a well earned rest.