Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John Shepperd had always kept his cards close to his chest the whole time Todd had known him, but immediately after their return to the Pegasus Galaxy, it seemed to Todd that John had become more closed off than usual. He’d explained his reservation to McKay (so it seemed) after a couple days, saying “Will you lay off it McKay! Jesus! I’m fine! Just a bit irritated after seeing my ex wife while back on earth. 200 million lightyears away and I still can't escape. Damn! Now can we please drop it!”

He hadn’t heard the whole of the exchange. Not when they were just walking by the lab where he was working on some computer codes as they passed, but what he wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall hearing the conversation entirely. He could, however, glean that McKay was also concerned about John's short fuse and even shorter distance between the aforementioned cards and chest. Nevertheless, after John stuck his neck out for him by fighting for him to be allowed to return home to this galaxy, instead of being confined to area 51, saving him from yet another imprisonment, Todd considered him more than an ally.

John Shepperd was a friend.

Hive.

A brother.

And right now, his friend’s behavior was troubling to him. He resolved himself to find the root cause of this sudden change in how he was carrying himself. He wanted to push into his mind, and use the telepathic bond that had been in place since he had first given John The Gift of Life, like he would do with those of his hive, but the head blind humans did not seem to appreciate having others share in their burdens in such an intimate way. It was too foreign to them to bring the kind of comfort that the constant presence of others in their mind brought to the wraith. The comfort of shared loss, grief and pain. Shared joy, love and accomplishment. Even if it was to try to soothe, humans saw it as an invasion, or in some circumstances, even violation of their privacy.

And that would do nothing to help uncover the truth at the heart of the matter. John would only build the walls around his mind stronger, and it would undo the tentative trust they had managed to build if he forced his way in. That would only make things worse. He would have to take his time, and be careful to consider the differences between Wraith and human culture.

He decided that he would watch for now. Observe. Look for any hint as to what was truly going on with Sheppard. And that’s what he did over the next few days. He convinced Mr. Woolsey to allow him to join Sheppard’s team on missions when he was here on Atlantis instead of with his hive, which he had yet to return to. All the more time to observe him. Plus, anyone who would have been killed by their fire was an opportunity for him to feed while he was staying in the city. They’d have met their end anyway, and it allowed him to put off returning to his fleet in favor of continued investigation. If their alliance was to work, they needed Sheppard, and if something was wrong, Todd needed to know if it would compromise their delicate truce. This truce held the best hope of saving his brethren and kin from the hunger that burnt them alive and dependance on the involuntary culling of humans as a food source rather than symbiotic feeding and gifting.

But before even going off world, Todd had noticed small tells that gave away the fact all was not well with regard to his brother. He ate less in the cafeteria. Far less than any human should. He just stared at his tray, with contempt almost, pushing his food around. Like nothing could appeal to his senses as they were in this moment. Like it had no taste and took too long to chew. It seemed to him that whether it was steak, fresh fruit (which even Todd enjoyed even if it could not sustain him) or a rich pasta, it all may as well be a sticky, gray, flavorless paste that was difficult to swallow.

But after the workday ended, John still did enjoy a detestable tasting drink of fermented wheat and hops. Something he had called ‘beer’. When he asked about it and John offered him some, Todd accepted, then nearly spat it out, but when John insisted he finish and have a couple more, he did have to admit the effect it had on the body and mind was not unpleasant. Though the lingering traces of the alcohol in his system the next day made him question whether it was worth the amount he had consumed. It hit differently than their own drinks did. His headache did cause John a chuckle, and though it was at his own expense, it did make him decide it was worth it, if only to resume their jovial banter for just a few minutes. He evidently had never expected that he would be able to outdrink a wraith, even though he hadn't the advantage of even the small amount of food Sheppard had in his stomach. One day though, he’d quite like to see Sheppard try what they drank.

He poured himself into his training and physical conditioning with a vigor he overheard Ronan tell Teyla was unusual, even for John. Though watching his sparring matches, Todd did have to admit he was impressed. Each movement was like a coiled spring releasing with the energy behind the motion, using momentum as a hammer to drive in the nail of his already impressive strength, despite the frailty of the human race compared to other species in this galaxy in an efficacy that commanded respect.

His first real clue came watching him train and spar like that, sweat beaded on his brow with warmth, yet, he trained in a black, long sleeve shirt and gray, Atlantis issue BDU cargos. Even he, a cold blooded being, preferred to train in a sleeveless tunic and loose pants even on board his hive as it traveled through the cold darkness of space. Whatever John was keeping from everyone, it did concern his body in some way. He had an idea of what it might be, an idea he understood all too well, but he in no way assumed that his first suspicion was correct. Even now with his sensory pits detecting small traces of blood. Not that he could definitely say what was going on without evidence to back it up, but it certainly amplified his concern.

He was reluctant to let the human out of his sight. His curiosity had turned to concern days ago, but his concern had festered into a deep worry after realizing he never really saw John in short sleeves, and the two had spent more nights sitting on the pier, talking about flying, missions, and the horrors of battle, but never anything personal. Never feelings or emotion, even after consuming concerning amounts of the drink he called beer. Human men seemed to avoid that more than even their women, but keeping his feelings sequestered away in privacy and not sharing them was an idea that was so foreign to Todd.

Alien.

When he had been captured by the Genii and separated from his hivemind, the overwhelming force of his torturous emotional distress had nearly driven him mad. The silence was overwhelming. Worse than any of the physical punishment or violation Koyla, his men, and predecessors inflicted on his starved body. Worse even than the hunger that burned within like metal melting in a crucible, burning his insides. He had never felt so alone.
When he had returned to his hive, the touch of the others' minds had been overwhelming after so long away from the familiar company. He refused to show weakness with regard to his ability to resume his duty as commander. That would have made things complicated if it were to be found that a crew member came from a hive that encouraged competition over comradery. Though those closest to him, they knew.

Those who he had known since growing up during the Lantian-Wraith war, and their elders who had come from hives who knew what things used to be. By queens who came from times of peace. Not those who had come from a hive only knowing war. Most queens from those times were long dead, though a handful of males still remained, and were going to great efforts to steer their species away from self destruction, and his own sire, Firstlight, treated him with such tenderness and understanding. It was a stark contrast to what would have happened had a younger warrior found out, it would be met with contempt and a sneer. And likely, he may be challenged for his position as commander. He had to be very careful around those Wraith, who never had the privilege of a surviving elder in their clan and were raised in resource scarcity by only the slightly older on their clan’s hearth planet. Younglings raising younglings didn’t afford much opportunity for guidance and instilling values or compassion in any species. And as much as it would be nice to reach these Wrath, it would be too dangerous to what they had already worked so hard to rebuild.

But his clutch brothers, they knew of how he had punished himself for every lost battle, every fallen brother, every young, starving wraithling just coming of age who could no longer survive off solid food, and not enough humans to feed them when they were only just beginning to live. How he took responsibility upon himself to guide them. Not just their young, but his brothers as a whole. And how he tortured himself every failure. A practice that while not horribly uncommon among their brethren, it was by no means common, and was still a cause for deep alarm. Something that hadn’t been stigmatized at all until their numbers had dwindled to so few during the war. Todd’s habit had started very close to the mid point in the end of the conflict. Before it was seen as harming everyone in your hive when so many had already been lost, and a dishonor to their sacrifice. But even before the stigma, there had been concern. But back then, there had also been empathy and understanding.

When he returned from the Genii, Bonewhite had made sure that he had not punished himself further when taking him for a medical checkup. It was rare to need medical attention among his kind, but starvation could have lasting effects, as seen in the differences between their faces, though he must admit, it was also the effects of his self neglect, lack of adequate rest, and the effects of stress as well. He aged much less gracefully than his brother. And Bonewhite had reason to be concerned about his arms and not just how much he had physically declined.

When he felt the relief of his second, his true brother of the same clutch, father, sire, and Queen mother, brush his mind, and the worry he had felt before seeing there were no new scars, he resolved not to cause him such pain again. He too, remembered the times before the stigma became so deep and was only a thing of shame, not one of their gravest sins, before they lost so much of their culture with old, wise queens. Ones who were gone for thousands and thousands of years. It had already been something like 200 years since he last taken a blade to himself, though he couldn't be sure exactly, since he had felt the need before his captivity. No queens ruling today had even been alive then that he knew of.

And though the urge was strong while in custody, he had no way of inflicting the punishment he felt he deserved for leaving his brothers without someone to Guide them into finding peace in this galaxy once again. So he refused to allow himself to put an end to the centuries of kindness to his own person, first for his departed mate, second, their children, next the last remaining brother of the 12 he was born alongside, then for the sake of his hive, and then finally, only then, he was able to do it for himself. But if he were to scale 200 years of his life down to the scale of a human life time, it would only be roughly the equivalent of 7 and a half months.

The scars were still there though, and always would be. Ones that never faded from slow healing injuries which did not heal at the same rate as an injury caused by an accident or another being. No, what a wraith did to themselves intentionally, those were scars they carried for life. He’d seen others with them, and knew of even more among them who carried them he had never physically seen, but knew of by the brush of their mind against his own, though even they rarely made it an issue directly addressed in the hivemind. Secrets didn't stay hidden without incredible telepathic control, but dignity and personal boundaries were always treated with respect in a healthy, properly managed hive. And he was one of the few commanders left who even knew what that looked like.

Only when a brother truly put themselves in danger or was considering entering early into their last rest. And even then, it was addressed by the few closest to them, and their minds were shielded to protect them from those who may not take kindly to the issue. Bonewhite always did his best to block it from him when someone's mind was lashing out by wrapping his shield around his mind, but sometimes things slipped through. Thankfully never the full extent of what he was doing. Just how heavy his anguish could become. But he was never involved in discussions like these, for his own sake. He had no idea how to approach the topic.

But with humans, he was even less sure how to go about this. It seemed an issue of even more secrecy to the head blind, or maybe it was just John Sheppard? He honestly didn't have a clue. He'd never encountered this among another sentient species, not that there were many among those who they’d encountered who would open up to a Wraith to the extent to share their mental anguish even to one who would understand. Was it rare, or did humans have a reluctance to speak of such things? He didn't know enough about this behavior in humans to interact with it in a way that was respectful to human culture yet. There was much their kind had to learn about each other. And much they each had to learn about themselves.

When Todd had partaken in self infliction, he had no need of long sleeves or heavy clothes in training. Protecting from the eyes of his brothers was of little use when they could see in their mind's eye, and at his age his habit was more known among Wraith than most others who had the habit. A habit like this didn't make him weak after all, especially when he had lived as long as he had and run so many successful campaigns, and the thought that he was weak wouldn't have even been likely to cross the mind of a Wraith raised in a healthy hive. Clearly something of a rarity these days. Though at times he did feel the anguish that led to him inflicting, it was hard to hide strong feelings and intention, and he, among most who engaged in the same behavior, had a hard time exercising enough control over the telepathic hive bond to hide what they were doing to themselves. It could only be hidden by others intentionally doing that for them.

Not when they were in that moment. But humans, their minds were closed, and just a couple millimeters of cotton would cover the sins committed against their person. Nobody would know when it happened and to come patch their fellow human up like Bonewhite or his other brothers had the minute they saw the flash of what he was doing in their mind's eye. And until Todd saw his skin, he had no way to know for sure if or when it happened. Just that it had when he was close enough to perceive the blood.

He did decide that he needed to learn more about how common this was in humans, and if the reasons they would engage in such action against their own flesh was any different from the reasons Wraith did before he went any further. Or were their reasons too different to fully understand the intricacies of how to help? And how to even approach this topic using human language?

He decided he should speak with Dr. Beckett on the matter. Had any humans had experience addressing this on base, he figured medical personnel would probably be the most likely, and the chief medical officer seemed most likely to not just extend sympathy, but also the best equipped to educate him on how to most efficiently administer first aid.

He had no knowledge of this, as his own people usually healed so quickly so there was little need to know. Unless it was a self-inflicted injury, of course, but because of the telepathic bond, it was usually Bonewhite, and while they had still been alive, 11 of his clutchmates tended to him. They always knew when it happened and were at the door before he was even finished half the time. There were others who he trusted in more recent years, others who remembered the way things were handled. But mostly, things were handled between him and his clutch brother.

Slowly, less and less of his clutch brothers were there in body. His 12th clutchmate, the last to enter into the world, had never known him to do such a thing though, and of that, he was glad. Todd had been the first to emerge from his shell, and when they were young, he felt so strongly that it was his responsibility to watch over them, even from a young age, go before them and protect them, it had been the reason he was called Guide. And until the moment Starborn, the one his prized hiveship was named for, fell in front of him in battle, Todd had never known such anguish. They were side by side when he had been struck down by a Lantian weapon. But his 12 deepest scars were for each of the clutchmates he couldn't protect. The deepest, for the youngest of the 13 of them, and the first to leave his brothers behind. And for the mate, who left behind children.

But each time it happened, he'd never paid any attention to what those who cared for him did to treat his injuries. He would be too upset to even look at what he’d done to himself when the moment passed, and after relief, he felt panic, if he was being honest with himself. He felt like a burden when they needed to care for him, and in the time it took them to assure him that he wasn't, they had always already finished making sure he was bandaged up. And should something happen with John in the field, well, he never wanted to feel as helpless as he had in those moments he lost his other brothers. He wouldn't lose John. Not to this. He reminded him of Starborn in many ways.

As much as he enjoyed ruffling the feathers of his human brother, this wasn't a topic of conversation where that would be appropriate. He had at least gathered that much in his limited observation of human interaction.

Sensitive topics, which they would be able to hide from the minds of others of their kind, tended to be approached delicately in order to avoid a fight or flight response when the human realizes information they would not voluntarily share has been discovered, like younger wraith did, those who never knew compassion. Humans were delicate to Todd and others of his kind, though he supposed he was the only wraith that would compare them to a butterfly.

And for some reason, he wanted to avoid clipping the Colonel's wings at all costs. The alliance between Todd's hives and the New Lantian’s was largely dependent on himself and John Sheppard. The alliance that the two of them started on the path to forage when they put aside the millennia long conflict between human and wraith to escape the Genii prison where they were each used to torture the other. When he had been forced to feed from John’s life force for only seconds at a time after 200 years of near starvation, being fed only enough to keep him alive, and John aging rapidly as the seconds ticked by. For John, too slow. For Todd, too fast.

But John had given him his hope and his life back. His name, Sheppard, was his own name in the hive mind. The name as it translated into their telepathic communication any way. Where communication was as simple as feeling what the other meant. Not words. And at 12,000 years old, among the elder of his kind, his brothers looked to, as he walked the path ahead to make sure all was safe. A Guide. A name he no longer felt worthy of.

But John was a Shepherd to walk before him when he lost all hope to ever see the sky again. And true to his word, John Sheppard had given him back the stars. And Todd had been more than happy to restore the years he took, and then some. This alliance between their people would never, ever work without him. Nobody else on Atlantis would trust Todd enough for this to last long term. And Todd would never trust anyone as much as the one who reminded him who he was.

His species was in a precious situation, with numbers too high due to huge numbers of clones and humans to feed from too little. Their survival hinged on finding new ways of doing things. But he expected that if John's military confirmed what he suspected, the tenuous peace that depended upon both of them would unravel and everything not just he, but also John had worked so hard to build would crumble to dust. And most assuredly, they would be doomed to self-destruct as a species if they couldn’t change their ways. This alliance was the best hope of avoiding that.

He certainly needed to speak to someone who would know what the military procedure would be if it was discovered a member of their personnel had this as a habitat. He needed to know whether he would need to keep this from reaching his superiors and subordinates if his suspicions were correct. There were times where he would have been challenged for his title of commander, had Bonewhite not shielded everyone from the worst of his anguish, if they believed his judgment was too cloudy to judge what was best for the good of the hive. He made a mental note to speak with an officer who would be well versed in earth’s procedures for such a situation. He did have a meeting with General O’Neil in a couple days. He was due in Atlantis to discuss their operations with their allies in the Pegasus galaxy. He would have to find a subtle way to ask to speak with him privately.

But while this was certainly a big concern, his biggest concern was personal, not just the survival of his species. For what he would call hive, John would call family.

And his affection for John was the same as for all his clutch brothers. The one who still lived, John had of course, taken to calling Kenny, but who in their hivemind had the presence of a strong will and protector with the flash of a white telepathic shield strong as bone Todd needed as much as his brother. He'd long ago have been seen as unfit to remain commander without him to shield the hive from the worst moments of his mind just as much as he needed Todd to charge ahead, assured by his confidence and forethought when Bonewhite, much like in his mind, was a very defensive tactician.

And after millennia of his own habit, he found himself feeling the same concern for his human brother that his blood brother must have felt for him through the countless years, though there was no Wraith as good as his clutchmate he knew of in the galaxy who could control what others of their kind could perceive quite so well outside the long dead queens of their maternal lineage. And whenever the two of them had any communication regarding his past habit, Bonewhite was careful to hide certain thoughts and reactions of his own. Sometimes, even those of others. And Todd understood why. Even among humans, acting on your own emotions and reacting without thinking could boil over and make a situation worse. He truly was grateful for his brother's consideration and discretion.

He briefly recalled John telling him, “What goes around comes around, Todd.” And he couldn't help but feel that in this situation it was ironically and cruelty true. He added his brother to the list of people he wished to speak to on the matter. He figured, since his brother stood where he stood now, he would want someone who walked a mile in his current shoes to share any wisdom he may have gained on his side of their journey. And instruction on how to control himself with the composure Bonewhite had for all their sakes in the past. Now, he realized, he would be walking the same path Bonewhite once walked with him, standing in his shoes.

For John.

His brother.

Chapter Text

The next few days ticked by too slowly for Guide. He hadn’t any physical proof yet, but 3 days ago on a mission, Guide’s sensory pits perceived small amounts of blood he could not see on John’s person, then again today as they waited at the pier where they usually drank while waiting for the Daedalus to touch down. It wasn't exactly smelling it, but it was similar enough.

His own hive had decided not to remain in orbit for this meeting, as part of what he’d promised the IOA as part of his return to Pegasus had included a technological exchange between SGC and Todd’s allied hives that had proven their loyalty to the Atlantis expedition. Starting with his primary hive of course, then only to ships both parties trusted. He had ideas to incorporate elements of their own biological technologies to their existing structures to enable hull regeneration, and he had a scientific delegation with him to start making assessments and plans, as well as his second in command, who already landed on the other side of the pier, and he and Zelenka had discussed at length how to develop hyperspace shields that would protect their hulls from hyperspace radiation so they could take longer jumps.

As his clutch brother stepped in beside him, his sensory pits flared, disturbed at what he detected mingled with the cotton of the tee shirt under John’s jacket, and Bonewhite glanced over at Guide and they had an exchange in their mind, Bonewhite questioning Guide as to whether what his sensory pits detected was correct, and Guide silently confirming his own suspicions were in line with what he was thinking. Bonewhite’s eyes glanced at John, who wore a curious expression watching the silent conversation. Guide showed his brother all he had seen in Sheppard since their return and his intent to speak to him privately when they returned to his hive. Not here on Atlantis. He wanted to learn more. He showed him where the holes in his knowledge were, and how he wanted to have all the information before he spoke to him and discussed his best options on how to help. It was important that he had a clear picture before he asked Bonewhite for advice because he valued his assessment the most. And he knew he would have to make peace with his emotional position on the matter with someone who knew him well. It was a difficult topic for him. But it was clear to Bonewhite that Guide wanted to help, despite his personal discomfort discussing anything about the issue for decidedly understandable reasons. He couldn’t get there without learning everything he needed to know first. He wouldn’t be able to emotionally prepare for the conversation that was coming until he knew what he was preparing for, and he needed Bonewhite’s help for that important step.

Bonewhite closes his eyes and tilts his head to the right in acceptance, a worried but approving smile barely perceptible on his face. He understood his reasoning for the delay, and the comfort projected in Bonewhite's expression was mirrored the hardly perceptible change present on his own face with the momentary opening of his brother's shield to send him soft blues of comfort and bold reds in acknowledgement of his strength and warm sunflower yellows in a vibrant exclamation of joy that he had returned home, to the Pegasus Galaxy, when he thought he had seen his only remaining blood brother for the last time when they had last parted ways. The whole exchange took only seconds, but they understood on a deeper level than they ever would with spoken word.

Then they greet each other by placing their right hands on the others chest, bowing their heads, and closing their eyes as the wind picked up, promising to catch up as soon as their responsibilities permitted, and a brief flash of navy blue regret fleeted between their minds that they couldn't retreat to a hearth planet in their territory to catch up with one another now. Neither had to touch the void black that had been their fear of being separated forever, not even knowing if the other was alive. They return their hands to their sides before he turns his attention to the younger wraith beside him, a smile on his face to see him well, despite the weary expression and the depression around his eyes from worry.

They repeat the same gesture, but this time, when they close their eyes, their foreheads touch, and Todd places his safe hand behind the other’s head. Ember’s mind was a mix of stormy gray exhaustion, sickly green anxiety, and lavender relief. They could not rest just yet, or it would be hard to resume their responsibilities, though he wanted to tell the youngling to get some sleep. Everyone in this alliance was growing weary of war and death, but they had to iron things out a bit more before everyone took a turn to take a moment of rest. Sleep was perhaps the least grieved casualty in times of war though. A couple hours of sleep wasn't much lost compared to the years taken from some when their lives were cut short. That could wait. This was more important.

Guide noticed John briefly observing their silent exchange as well, but he supposed he had only seen him, his son, and his brother together as crew, not as family. He made note to explain their relation later, and that they were greeting each other fondly, like he had seen the New Lantian's wrap their arms around those who they were fond of or press their lips to one another's forehead, cheek or lips. The bow they greeted each other with was a formal military greeting. The equivalent to their salute. That had to wait until night to be explained though. For now, they had duties to carry out for the alliance before retiring for the night.

He made a mental note with his youngest, Ember, to speak with the Tau’ri cultural anthropologists to have further discussions with the one they called Daniel Jackson about their cultural differences so people wouldn’t be left guessing as much as they had in the past. The wraith equivalent of a show of affection like what they had just shared would most likely terrify an unexpecting human, and the mental image it induced brought a smile to both their faces, and the temptation to try was there. The human expression of “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” seemed to apply Ember in the fact the two of them shared a knack for mischief, and Bonewhite shot the two of them a pointed look.

Ember was, nevertheless, among the oldest who had the opportunity to be surrounded in the old ways on the planet where he had been raised. The ways Guide and Bonewhite had worked so hard to rebuild after the war. With things even Guide, Bonewhite, and even some of Ember’s older brothers had to sacrifice. He was one of the first who was raised by a constant stream of elder wraith instead of young raising the younger, hearing the songs and legends that were still in their clan’s memory, learn their rituals, and their festivals with the hives returning to them with food and for protection, and a portion of the alliances hives in orbit at all times being a constant comfort. He was among the first generation in 10,000 years to have grown up the way Guide’s queen and sire would have, and their queens and sires before them. Guide was proud, though he wished it had been all his children who knew a childhood with their greatest worry being told no or a lost toy. What Ember could tell Daniel would be the truest image of their people. Not just what they had become because of the attempts to wipe them out after losing so much of who they were outside war.

Guide, Bonewhite, and Ember turn their attention to the pier. The Daedalus was touching down and he and Ember pulled apart, hands returning to their sides and turning to watch as the spaceship made port. The wind whipped the tails of their leather coats and sent his already neglected hair flying every direction. He couldn't help his imagination going wild at the site, mentally making a list of all the things they could learn by collaborating. How both their technology combined could save the lives of so many on both sides of their alliance. He couldn't keep the flash of vibrant green hope from his hivemind. He didn't need to brush the link of the hivemind to know one of his closest commanders probably planned to scold him about overworking himself to self neglect later and chasing him down with a hairbrush and clean laundry. He would guess it would probably be Bonewhite, or one of his sons.

They had to wait a few minutes before General O’Neil, Daniel Jackson and Colonel Caldwell exit the craft since the bridge is some distance from the ramp. By that time the wind the engines had been putting off had died down and stopped, and the officers all saluted each other before turning to Richard and shaking his hand before turning to their Allies.

At first, they were unsure of the proper way to greet a Wraith military official, so Guide helpfully relaxed his expression in a gesture of understanding, and inclined his head in a bow, his brother and delegation following suit. The humans mimic the action after Daniel does. Jack was the first one to speak. “Mr. Woolsey. Colonel Sheppard, nice to see you again. Todd, thank you for all your help. I trust the city made it back in one piece?” He asks.

John responds with a somewhat quippy, “More or less. Someone, who may or may not have been McKay, might have managed to trip and put a hole from the wall between his quarters into Zelenka’s, but we didn't sustain any further damage to important structures or critical systems while underway. We already have repairs halfway done. Mr. Woolsey and I will show you, Daniel, and our guests around before we get things underway.”

“What about Colonel Caldwell?” Jack asks.

“I better go check in with SGC and let them know that we've reached our destination and brief them on the ahem…main events of our journey.” Stephan says.

“That's probably a smart idea. It could take a while.” O’Neil says in a tone that implied that not everything had been smooth sailing.

“I trust it's safe to say that you had one of those unanticipated but not unexpected situations we always have come up.” John says in sympathy as they make their way to a jumper that would take them to the city's main tower.

“I would be worried if it didn't Colonel.” Stephan says as the hatch closes behind them, and John shoots up over the city, flying up over the Lantian ocean and zipping around the sparkling 10,000 year old spires before making their way to the jumper bay. Guide thought John had been showing off. Or thrill seeking. Perhaps both. Once they safely disembark, they make their way to the control room. For once, with Guide and his brothers as their equals and allies rather than as their prisoners. A fact he was honestly relieved about.

As they make their way through the city, John gives him, his brothers and General O’Neil a brief run down of procedures and evacuation routes in the event of an emergency and the whole required spiel about safety and protocols like he had given the same speech hundreds of times. General O’Neil took in the changes that had been made since he had been made since he was last here when the Asurans took the city, killing the last ancients in the Pegasus galaxy.

Once they know their way around and are aware of major safety procedures they make their way to the board room, so they can have a brief meeting regarding the general ideas their science teams had for the technological exchange, though nothing too detailed. This meeting was to be short. A fact, it seemed, those who came on board the Daedalus were as relieved about as his own crew. As eager as they were to start their exchange on both sides, interstellar travel was still exhausting, and both sides had traveled a great distance to reach Atlantis, and would be in need of rest before any lengthy discussions were held, and time to work out which project ideas would even be feasible.

Each of them take their seats in the conference room, and General O’Neil takes his seat in the most central location and brings the room to discussion, opening with, “Okay, so most of us have had a long journey to get here, and we still have a lot of i’s to dot and t’s to cross before we finalize our plans. All I want to do today is have a brief rundown of proposed ideas for technological innovation based on mutual exchange so our science teams can evaluate the plausibility of each idea before we come back to this in about a week or so with our findings, so we’ll only spend our time discussing goals within reach.” He looks at McKay, as he emphasizes the word brief, and the man looks like he wanted to argue, but Guide took the chance to speak before McKay had a chance to start his usual dramatics.

“I find that idea to be most agreeable as well, General. The more time we spend sitting here discussing technicalities prior to analysis of feasibility would only be a waste of time. And I’m sure your crew has physical needs to attend to after such a long trip. Spending hours here with detailed planning only for a project to not work would be frustrating for everyone involved and that would not be a favorable way to start this alliance. I suggest we compile a list of ideas to evaluate and then, we see to making sure we’re all well rested and clear minded before any heavy intellectual labor.”

McKay just sours in his seat a little and John couldn’t hide his amusement at him being so thoroughly silenced as Bonewhite nods to his brother and says, “I would like to work on our shielding technology so that our hulls may be better protected from hyperspace radiation, and during the periods of time we need to drop out of hyperspace for haul regeneration. It does leave us vulnerable to attack as well, so I propose this be high on the list for evaluation as well.”

“Okay, that all sounds good. Rodney, what have you and Radik come up with?” John asks.

“Hive ships have a remarkable built immune system as part of their life support systems. With the several outbreaks we've had on Atlantis, we obviously have concerns about any of these making it to The Milky Way galaxy. Being able to implement a similar system on our ships could be another line of defense.”

“I believe that should be of highest priority as well. I don't want any of Earth’s pathogens making it back here.” Guide agrees sorely. Wraith rarely ever became ill because of both their symbiotic relationship with their hive, but also due to their quick healing. But that was with pathogens native to Pegasus that their bodies knew what to do with. He’d come to find that out the hard way.

“Oh come on buddy. It was just a cold.” John teases. Guide just shoots him the same look he gives Rodney whenever he brings up getting the ancient hyperdrive back online moments before a supervolcano erupted. This only made John grin and shake his head, trying not to laugh. Just a cold his ass. He had mucus running from his sensory pits, nose, and feeding organ.

Instead of saying anything too biting he says, “Then perhaps our science teams should find a cure for what you call a cold.”

Rodney comes in clutch saying, “Now that is a great idea! Also, we have already discussed the possibility of implementing bio tech to our ships hauls so that when a panel slips away, the biological mass can seal any holes and prevent us from venting atmosphere. From what I understand, that should be fairly easy. Definitely something to be added to the list.”

General O’Neil nods to this. “Enlight of recent events, I think that's an excellent idea McKay. Anything else from anyone before we go to lunch?”

Guide was a bit hesitant. He knew his next ask may be too tall an order. Nevertheless, it did present them with a way to manage their resource scarcity. The room’s audience seems to sense this and they all turn their eyes to him. Bonewhite shoots him a flash of lavender comfort and soft blue to soothe his nerves before he opens his mouth to speak, trying to find the right way to word his request.

“As you know my people face profound resource competition for food and basic necessity. I have an idea to alleviate this. I would like to continue Dr. Keller and Dr. Beckett’s gene therapy to administer to our drones. Their genetically degraded clones, so in theory it would be easier to alter their need to feed than a wraith hatched from natural reproduction like our officers. And I would also like to find volunteers to be fed on.”

“You can’t seriously expect us to just hand people over for you to eat Todd! We can continue the gene therapy, but supplying you with food is too much. You should know that we would never agree to that by now!” John says, his hand gripping the table and looking angry. And indeed, everyone in the room did.

“There’s much about wraith you do not know, John Sheppard. When a wraith feeds, they can return what they have taken with the gift, as you well know. What I’ve not told you is that in the process of returning what we’ve taken, the sustenance we’ve gained is not diminished in any way.”

“Then why don’t you guys just feed and then return humans their lives?” Richard asks, her lips pulled tight and her eyes narrowed.

“Such information is a vulnerability to our kind. You remember what the one called Adin Ford did to extract the enzyme yes? Held our kind captive? Used them as slaves, chained to walls and exploited for their bodily fluids that enable them to feed? How Koyla and his predecessors kept me captive? I imagine that they would have enslaved me for more than torturing their captives had they known. The ones you call ancients, our very creators, already used us as slaves in this way on occasion. Even one of my own clutch brothers, Swiftfire, was forced to gift the ancient known as Janus while being refused a meal until he was at the point of starvation, as one of our younger clutch brothers, Coldwind, was held with a blaster in his mouth in order to force his compliance. His last act was to be forced to gift the last of his lifeforce to the ancient who created a device with the soul purpose of genociding us. And once he was dead, they killed Coldwind anyway before retreating through the gate back to their galaxy. His grandparent, who he was named for, outlived him. Have you ever had to watch your sire and his sire before him bury one of their children and grandchildren? Mr. Woolsey, Sheppard, General, this information is well guarded to protect us from exploitation. I would never keep my officers from being able to sustain their natural longevity with gene therapy, but if we’re to feed then exchange the gift, it would only be with those who we can trust implicitly to not give this information to those who wish us harm, use us as a weapon, or a slave. And those who volunteer would benefit from this arrangement as well.”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong here,” Dr. Jackson begins, “But isn’t that how worshipers are forced into compliance?”

This time it’s Bonewhite who answers with, “When the cycle of feeding and gifting is done repeatedly in too short a time period, it does create a dependance on the enzyme yes. However, that’s not what we’re proposing. Once in the time period you would call a month would be more than enough to optimally sustain us. Some of us,” he gives Guide a pointed look, “Already push themselves to the point of near starvation in order to ensure that our younger ones don’t go without in an act of noble stupidity. But when time is given, no dependence on our enzyme will develop, and the human receiving the gift will find their health restored. It will reduce and eliminate tumors, reverse damage from genetic conditions and heal the body on a cellular level, though more serious conditions may take repeated treatments. We can even have an individual stay as part of your infirmary.” He offers.

Most of the group is taken aback by this information and are left somewhat speechless. They hadn’t stepped back enough to contextualize the ancients actions, or consider that they may have been created intentionally, but now that the word was spoken it was hard to deny. Their reliance on cloning facilities for their armies, the replicators, the attero device. Their numbers were so low, there hadn’t been enough to fight them, and even when the ancients left, their weapons of war remained with programing to wipe them from existence. Then of course, the attero device that caused untold human casualty as well. He couldn’t say whether the ancients didn’t believe the ends justified the means or Janus just scrapped the project because the gate explosions would cripple the Alterans.

None of them spoke at first, though after a brief silence, John was the first to speak, slowly, carefully considering his words. “Todd, I’m truly sorry that we had never stopped and stepped back long enough to objectively consider the ancients actions enough to see that. Without historical context, after our first interaction with the wraith, we were mistakenly under the impression that they were the aggressors in the conflict. We didn’t even consider that you were just trying to survive with that which you have left, or that our actions were a continuation of that. I know words mean nothing with regard to this, but I for one, am truly and deeply sorry for my part in that from a place of personal empathy rather than just out of lip service or shame of my own ignorance, though I won’t claim I’m not ashamed of the role I played or not trying to look for a more thorough understanding before taking military action. We could have been having these diplomatic talks so much sooner and before so many casualties. There have been similar violations of people’s basic rights between the human cultures on earth, and whether it was systematic extermination or strategically making it impossible for their people to continue their culture, language, lineage and way of life, when the bottom line is to wipe someone out, your correct in saying it’s genocide. My grandparents on my mothers side were touched by this on a certain level, though I’m not sure how deeply. Even though the people they came from weren’t rounded up and killed, knowing that it’s touched my family in the distant past, and my hand in continuing what happened to your people… It makes me sick. And if you can’t forgive us as a people I understand, but I hope that one day, you can at least forgive me.”

The delegation in the room’s telepathic link buzzes to life as they look at each other, hardly able to keep the surprise off their faces as flashes of color pop between them. Aquamarine validation came from Guide, Vermilion shock from Bonewhite, sapphire truthfulness and trust from Ember. He projected what his sensory pits detected from the man, as he was closest. The pheromonal signature of regret, shame, disgust and self loathing on a level so deep that there was no faking the words he spoke. Basil green hope came from his new lead scientist, Blade, Ember’s leman. His judgment was sharp and precise, and though the wraith was usually analytical, the soft feelings for Ember brought their shared emotion through their bond to the other wraith’s perception enough to feel his hope in a way that he usually didn’t allow to bleed into the larger hive mind. There was a ripple of periwinkle, yellow and teal from those among them, and a buzzing tickled the back of their minds from the hive mind's crying out with relief and validation.

Guide would tell John later at the pier that he forgave him.

Richard was the next to speak. “I can’t speak for all of Stargate Command, the International Oversight Advisory, or everyone on base either, but I would like to have a better understanding between our people going forward and offer our help in any way that we can to rebuild your society and for you to live in symbiosis with the rest of the galaxy rather than at odds with it's other inhabitance. I’ll open channels for this proposal to earth, and I’ll recommend that they consider your offer regarding consensual feeding and gifting. And if it’s something you’d be willing to speak of, we’d like to learn more of your history, customs, and culture in order to understand better how we can help.”

Guide looks over to Ember then to Richard before saying, “Thank you Mr. Woolsey. I think Ember would be most qualified to talk with you about our customs and culture. He’s young, but he’s among the oldest to have been raised in a way a wraith of our clan would have been before the Lantian-Wraith war. I was born during the beginning of the end of the war, so he knew as a youngling things even I did not.” he says, unable to keep the pride or affection off his face. “Much of our history is scattered among different Wraith factions and clans, but my second and myself can tell you what we know of it. And at some point perhaps I could convince my sire to speak with you about our history and culture as well. He was there when we first took to the stars.”

“We would be grateful for anything you would be willing to share and anyone we could speak with.” Daniel says, offering a respectful bow.

Rodney for once looked like he had nothing to say. He looked somewhere between dumbfounded, shocked, and horrified. It took General O’Neil longer to respond to this. He didn’t have any context for understanding what it must feel like, even a little, like John did, but he still smelled a bit like bile. The scent of guilt. He finally realized they were trying to avoid exploitation rather than violently enslaving or geocoding humans. Sure there were hives that would wipe out any world that advanced too far, like Sateda, but usually, all that was culled from a planet was what was needed to sustain the keepers and their crew. They mostly slept in stasis to keep their need to feed at the minimum, only waking up every few centuries. And the Atlantis expedition waking the whole of their people only led to more scarcity and death among them. And in a way, they were also directly responsible for all the human death in Pegasus resulting from their awakening. It hadn't been the Wraith's choice to wake in such great numbers. That was caused by their own actions.

“Commander, I too am sorry for any orders I may have given that brought further harm to your people. I can’t speak for all of SGC or the IOA either, but I’ll also do my very best to at least start making some kind of change to policy that would help your people rebuild as well and I’ll use all my influence to see to it that we can work on coming to an agreement regarding your request as well.” he pauses for a moment and Guide looks at him, making eye contact before tilting his head to the side, before the General adds, “With your permission, I would also like to speak to you privately regarding this after our meeting.” he says.

“I was actually going to request a private audience with you as well General O’Neil. I did want some clarification regarding military procedure regarding certain matters as well. Perhaps we could find a place outside to have a conversation on our matters of concern off the record?” Guide suggests.

“That sounds perfect Commander. Unless anyone has anything else to say, how about the two of us take a walk?”

“That sounds like a plan General. Thank you.” he says bowing slightly, and when nobody makes a move to say anything the two of them leave the conference room, filing out along with everyone else, making for a pier on the opposite side of the city from where they landed, in what was for once, a civil air between Todd and the commander of SGC, and they walked in a comfortable silence that didn’t reflect Guide’s apprehension regarding the topic he wished to broach. Nevertheless, after walking for a while, they found a secluded spot on the edge of the city where they could have a private conversation, the sound of the waves crashing against the walls of the piers covering their words. They find a bench at the very end of the pier and sit down, neither of them saying anything for a moment, before Jack finally says, “So I got the feeling that there was something else you wanted to speak to me about based on the look you gave me. Was there something more you wanted to talk about, you know, off the record?” he finally asks.

Guide looks over the ocean and then up at the sky, before finally saying, “If I were to have concerns regarding the wellbeing of the mind of someone under your command I… Well I’m not sure how to ask this without potentially having someone’s position questioned. But there’s a behavior among Wraith that I may have observed in a human here in Pegasus that has me concerned. I’m not sure of the language that humans use to describe it, but when I started to partake in what my sire told me is called self infliction among our kind, after losing the youngest of my clutch brothers, he said it’s not common but not at all that uncommon either when one of our brethren are experiencing extreme anguish. Stigma around it grew as our numbers dropped, but I get the feeling that if this behavior isn’t anomalous among humans, then it’s pretty taboo for your people as well.” He didn’t even know how to word this as a question. So instead he voiced his dilemma.

A look of understanding crosses Jacks face, his eyes widening and sucking in a breath, turning his face from the ocean and observing Guide, seeing the stress on his face, the deep lines, the deadness in his eyes, and dark circles. How worn his coat was compared to those of his delegation, and his ill kept hair, seeing a reflection of himself after Charlie shot himself with his gun. He knew he had a lot to explain here.

“We call it self harm. Sometimes it’s a sign someone wants to end their own life. Sometimes it’s not. And not everyone who wishes to end their own life has this habit. Back on earth, John was assigned to be my personal pilot on the Antarctic base where earth’s control chair is. Partly because I’m a commanding officer who would understand.

This behavior can be grounds for dismissal if its reported on the record, but John lost some people close to him after their helicopters, which is like an earth small flying ship that only works in atmosphere, went down behind enemy lines. Two of the soldiers who were lost were like brothers to him. They entered the air force academy together before they were even commissioned as officers. Another, Charlie Holland, was his lover.

He went against orders to try to rescue them, but his friends were dead when he arrived. He tried to save his lover, and carried his body out of the desert. The way he tried to wake him up, by kissing him, before he realized he was gone, was just another reason his commanding officers had him court martialed on top of this.

He had a mental breakdown before the proceedings and his habit started then. He was taken to the hospital for treatment, and because his file caught my attention, I personally saw to it that someone in our military justice system who defends someone on trial, called a JAG lawyer, could fight to have him reassigned under my command. She managed to keep him from being dishonorably discharged, but he was demoted and he had a black mark put on his record. 

I planned to eventually assign him to the stargate program, after having some time to evaluate his performance, but it turns out he had the strongest manifestation of the gene that allows certain members of our expedition to operate ancient technology and I assigned him to the first team to Atlantis. We did have time to talk about his habit though when he was flying me around. I was one of the few people who he could speak to about this.

That’s not to say that members of our military don’t normally struggle with mental health conditions and trauma, but it’s not something that’s widely talked about, and developing a mental health condition is an epidemic among those who’ve served. But our soldiers don’t normally freely talk about it until they leave the service, and many don’t even then.

And even though I never self harmed, I was suicidal myself after my son, who was also named Charlie, shot himself with my gun before the stargate program even existed. I had been taken off active duty for months. I was even going to permanently retire. So I did my best to help him through it, but I know he felt betrayed by his country and the military he served for getting court martialed for being bisexual on top of disobeying orders. That felt like a stab in the back to him. And it wasn't just a betrayal. His commanding officer was being petty at that point when He'd just lost someone he loved deeply. It was like spitting in his face.” Jack pauses here. He’d been talking for a while. He needed to remind himself to focus, and looks over at Guide to gauge his reaction. And see if he had any questions before he continued.

He did have his head slightly inclined to the side as if he had a question or two. “For being bisexual?” He asks.

“Our military looks down on that. It’s an outdated policy, but it is still enforced sometimes.”

“I still do not understand what you mean by this. The word is not one who’s meaning I’m familiar with.”

Jack takes a breath and looks up at the sky at this. He hadn’t been expecting to explain the birds and bees, birds and birds, and bees and bees to the Wraith when they’d gone outside to talk. He wished he'd thought to bring a cigar or some whiskey. “A bisexual person has relations with members of both sexes. Someone who has relations with the same sex as them is what we call homosexual. And someone who has relations with the opposite sex is what we call heterosexual. Our military has a don’t ask don’t tell policy regarding relations with members of the same sex.”

“And this is frowned upon in human culture on earth?” Guide asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he takes in this information.

“In certain parts of society, not our culture as a whole. And since our military accepts people of all parts of society for the most part, there are some who still don’t accept it in our ranks who may go as far as causing physical harm to someone who's bisexual or homosexual. Prior to 14 years ago, people who had relations with people of the same sex just couldn’t serve, period. The law was meant to be a compromise that still let people serve, but it still allowed them to be removed from service if they were discovered. There are efforts in place to over turn this, because people’s attitudes toward this have changed a lot in the past 55 or so years, but change is too slow sometimes. People of certain spiritual beliefs, which is dominate belief in the country John and I come from, believed it was wrong because they believed marriage and sex were to start a family, and you need a man and a women to have a baby. As society changed, a lot of people's beliefs changed as well, but there are still people who hold back and view it as sinful.” he says.

Guide looks unsure of how to respond to this information. The idea was foreign to him. He thinks for a moment before saying, “99.9 percent of our brethren take on a male phenotype. For us, what you would call homosexual is our majority. Though I suppose there’s greater variation among our reproductive sexes in humans, but there’s never been any stigma about the preferred physical phenotype of a lover. I must confess that I have a hard time wrapping my head around this.”
Jack decides not to dive into the complexity of Wraith reproduction and sexuality today. The topic at hand was, while no less difficult or awkward, was more important to address for the sake of the alliance.

“It’s honestly a bull shit policy. I don’t get it either. It’s not right. Regardless of that though, its impact on Colonel Sheppard’s career has had measurable unfair effects and in his personal life too. He didn’t get the support he needed when he lost Charlie. Instead he got punished for ever having loved him, stripped of his rank, and publicly humiliated all the while blaming himself when there's nothing he could have done, and nobody noticed until he’d ended up trying to take his own life by taking too much of a medicine meant to help humans sleep. They found the self harm injuries on his shoulders and thighs when he was admitted to the hospital. His ex wife found him when she had gone to check up on him. He hadn't answered her calls when they were supposed to meet for lunch. He'd been treated for depression before and she still had medical records she was going to give him for his court martial. He’d have been dead had she showed up 10 minutes later.” The general replies.

“Then it appears that some of the reasons humans engage in this behavior are the same as with us. Greif. Feelings of guilt. Feelings of helplessness. Betrayal. Trauma. But given what you’ve told me, the information regarding Colonel Sheppard’s relational preferences and habit shouldn’t be discussed in any official capacity with any of his superiors or subordinates, and not in an unofficial capacity with someone who may discuss this in an official capacity either, as it may just make it more difficult to navigate this without any loss of standing.” Guide concludes.

“That would be a good assessment. You may be able to learn more about what’s going on from one of his buddies. I think him and Ronan are pretty good friends. And Dr. Heightmeyer. She’s what we call a psychiatrist. They treat sickness of the mind. John does have regular appointments with her. She could help give you more detailed information about this behavior, though she can't tell you what she and John talk about. She’s bound by doctor patient confidentiality so she wouldn’t be obligated to report him and would be bound to confidentiality unless someone’s a serious danger to themselves or others. She could even help you process some of the feelings you’ve had that lead to your own habit. But Todd, you did the right thing to ask off the record what the expected reaction to this might be in an official capacity before deciding how to move forward. It’s clear to me that you want to help him. You're a good friend.”

“Please General, I don’t deserve commendation for this. Besides, he reminds me of the youngest of my 12 clutch brothers in so many ways. Starborn. His death is what started my habit. I do understand what Colonel Sheppard is feeling with that regard, losing brothers and blaming yourself, and I wouldn't want any of my brothers struggling the way I have. And since I have given John the gift, he’s what would be your equivalent to family in my culture. Family, friend, ally, whatever word you use, those are people that support each other. I’m doing for my human brother what my clutch brother did for me.”

General O’Neil makes an affirmative noise as he looks out over the water. Neither of them were sure what to say next. The two sat there a few more minutes in comfortable silence, despite the prickly aura left by the ghost of the conversation they’d just had, both processing all that had been said before finally Jack breaks the silence.

“Well, thank you anyway Todd. Want to start heading back? I’m sure that you have members of your hive you wish to reunite with finally and to get some rest. You’ve been away for a while.” he says.

“Yes, you're right about that. Thank you for all the information you’ve given me, General O’Neil. I’ll talk to him after I’ve had a chance to talk to Dr. Heightmeyer and my brother who supported me in my own struggle.” Guide says.

“It’s not a problem Todd. Like you said, we’re allies.” he says.

Guide couldn’t help but smile at that.

Chapter Text

After talking with General O’Neil, Todd makes his way to the infirmary, hoping Dr. Beckett wasn’t busy. He wanted to speak with him privately, even more so now that he knew what he did regarding how this would be handled in an official capacity. But even approaching this topic carried risks for John, so he planned on speaking about this with Dr. Beckett under the guise of first aid in case he ever did this to himself again.

He wouldn’t say anything about Sheppard’s habit just so Carson could have plausible deniability and one less person who knew was one less risk of John losing his position and rank. He wanted to have this talk before going to reunite with his hive. Besides finding out procedure, he thought learning effective treatment of injuries was the next most urgent matter of business with regard to this situation. Especially after learning what he had from General O'Neil. If something happened and John needed help, Todd had no obligation to report him in any official capacity. If something was too serious, the medical staff on Atlantis may not be given a choice. Like Jack said, Doctor patient confidentiality didn't apply when someone was a danger to themselves or others.

If need be he would be able to handle anything that arose, hopefully.

When he steps into the Infirmary, there's only one patient there being treated for a migraine. Good. They weren't overwhelmed, nor was there anyone in serious condition. It didn’t appear that there were many members of staff on duty right now, but they had more than enough people there for him to have a conversation with Dr. Beckett in the privacy of his office. And speak of the devil, he was approaching.

“Todd, wasn’t expecting to see you here lad. What brings you in?” he asks in his heavily accented voice and eyes looking at him with worry. Wraith healed quickly, after all, so an injury or illness that required medical care was a big cause for concern.

“I was hoping that I could speak to you privately, Dr. Beckett. It’s a personal matter that I may need some specific first aid knowledge in order to address.” he says, looking around slightly due to his discomfort. A motion that wasn’t entirely just for show.

“Right. This way then. Will you need a first aid kit of your own?” he asks, gesturing to Todd to follow and grabbing one of the kits they had for mission personnel when the wraith nodded, before leading him into his office and closing the door. Once it was securely shut, he gestures to one of the seats in front of the desk while taking his own seat. “Please sit down. Can I get you a water or anything? Scotch?” he asks.

“Scotch is alcohol, right?” Todd asks to clarify.

“Aye.” he affirms, pulling out two glasses, the bottle, and some ice from a mini freezer. Asking if it was alcohol implied that the need for it did exist, and the fact he had joined the Colonel in his nightly beer-fueled stargazing sessions wasn’t unknown to base personnel. “A lot or a little?” he asks.

“This may require more than less.” Todd admits, albeit reluctantly.

Carson pours them each 4 fingers. If Todd was saying he needed a drink, he figured that it must be serious. “So what’s going on Todd? Wraith normally heal quickly. Has something happened?”

Todd plays up how nervous he is about this conversation, not that he wasn’t already, and looks at the door before running a hand through his disheveled hair and downing his drink. Carson’s brow furrows in worry at this. He hadn’t seen Todd behave this way before, and it had alarm bells going off in his head.

The wraith takes a deep breath before saying, “It’s true that we normally heal quickly Dr. Beckett, but I must confess that there is one particular type of injury that does not. It would heal at the same rate humans typically heal. Because of the nature of how it’s inflicted. I… I must confess that it’s been over 200 years, but as you well know, this isn’t much time in the scope of our lifespan.”

“Aye, about 7 and a half of our months.” he says, his brow creasing with even more concern.

“That’s correct. When I’ve done this, it was usually the brother’s who hatched of my clutch that administered first aid, but with me spending more time on Atlantis, I figured I should probably learn…” he breaks eye contact, hoping Dr. Beckett would understand what he was hoping to imply.

“And I’m to assume the nature of these injuries are self-inflicted?” Carson asks.

Todd doesn’t say anything. He lets his eyes remain at the floor. But he doesn’t deny it.

“Right then. If you don’t mind, would you allow me to examine your previous injuries? It will help me to know whether I should put any additional items in your kit. And also know specific things I should teach you. How serious they are can require different treatment methods.” He explains.

Todd starts undoing the fastenings on his coat, revealing a deep sage shirt made of silk from the iratus bug, which nicely complimented the green gray of his skin, and black embroidery decorated the neckline, bottom of the shirt, and up his sides in geometric patterns similar to his facial tattoo, and was lined with a black fringe that had beads on the end of each piece that looked like small skulls. Once the fastenings are undone, he lets it fall off his shoulders and pulls his arms out of the sleeves, revealing the shirt to be sleeveless, and Carson sucks in a breath when he sees his arms. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. Typically, Carson saw scarring on the forearms or thighs, but as old as Todd was, he should have been expecting something more extensive. They cover his arms, misaligning tattoos in some places from their depth, and not just the inside of the forearms. They circle around the circumference of his arms, going from shoulder to wrist, in shades of pearl gray, criss crossing, and some even rising up from his skin. There were some that had been tattooed over before being cut over after the tattoo healed, leaving layers of fresh and tattooed scars.

And if Carson thought he was done when the coat came off, he hid his surprise when Todd reached for the fastening on his pants, stepping out of the leather garment to reveal a more casual pant underneath made from the same silk. It was softer against the skin than the leather, and less tightly fitting with slits that ran up the sides, matching embroidery on either side of the slit, and tied at the waist with ties that wrapped from the back to the front. Their home planet was warm, and the openings and short sleeves were more comfortable than the protective leather military uniform. He steps out of the leather completely after kicking off his boots, showing more intricate embroidery and ties around the ankles of the pants as well that he pulled the fastenings, which had matching skull beads, so that he could move the pant legs aside, showing thick scars that went deep, raising up in the same almost silvery shade on his thighs, criss crossing and overlapping, in various stages of being tattooed over, and smaller ones running along the outside and inside of his calves, growing less severe the closer they were to his ankles.

Carson doesn’t say anything for a long moment, taking them in before breaking the silence. “Some of these are pretty serious. I’m going to go get a couple things to train you in giving stitches and get a few more things for your kit. I’ll be right back, lad. You just sit tight. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, and I’m glad you want to be proactive in your own treatment, but I want you to know that with as serious as some of these are, it may be better if you come see someone here at the infirmary.” he says before leaving his office real quick to grab some items to customize the first aid kit.

He’s not gone more than a few moments before returning with his hands full of medical supplies and places them on his desk. While he’s still standing he turns to Todd and asks, “Do you mind if I come around the desk and take a closer look at some of these?” He asks.

Todd shakes his head, inclining it at a slight bow in acceptance, and at the invitation, Dr. Beckett steps around the desk, putting his gloves on before taking one of Todd’s forearms in his hands and starts examining the scars, running his fingers over the worst of them, making small fussing noises as he moves up each limb, taking a close look and pressing in some places. “Do any of these cause you further pain dear?” he asks. Todd nods, accepting the Doctor’s kind endearments, as they were part of his usual character and he didn’t smell of pity.

“A few of the ones on my shoulders and thighs.” he admits.

“Is it more a sensitivity to touch or pain when your skin is pulled at?” he asks as Carson takes in the worst ones on his thighs. The ones he gave himself after losing his brothers.

“Definitely more being pulled at. They can be touch sensitive at first, but that doesn’t usually last. The pulling lasts longer.”

“I see. Your skin does tend to be a bit less elastic than human skin. I can imagine that it can't be comfortable. I have a few products that can help improve the tissue flexibility, though with the differences in our physiology, I’m not sure how effective they will be. But if they don’t work, I can try to formulate something specific for Wraith. This first one is called Mederma.” he says, grabbing a purple tube from his desk and squeezing some of the contents onto his finger, letting Todd inspect the medicine and container. The wraith smelled it and made a face. “If it’s okay, I’d like to put a bit of this on one of your scars now and make sure it won’t cause an allergic reaction. It mostly gives more moisture and collagen to the cells so the tissue doesn’t get stretched as tightly when you move because it becomes more flexible.” he says. Todd nods his consent, and Carson applies it to his deepest scar, the one for Starborn.

Next he pulls out some clear strips. “Now these are silicon strips. These also help lock moisture into the skin and seal in collagen as well. You can put these on old or new injuries. I’d also like to make sure you won’t have a reaction to this as well.” he says.

“Of course. I… Whatever you think is best.” he says, and Carson places a small piece of the strip on the inside of his elbow.

“Now, can these get infected like they do with humans, or is the injury just slow healing?” he asks. Todd wasn’t sure honestly. Bonewhite and his other brothers, and when they had been on their hearth planet, even his Sire, Firstlight, had taken care of any further care he needed. But he wasn’t learning these things to care for himself. He was using his habit to learn more about how to treat this in a human who had the same habit as he did. So despite his own gap in knowledge, he nods his head. Even if it turned out he couldn’t get an infection, John could.

“Right. Then I’m going to go over infection prevention. First, cleaning the wound and making sure there's no debris inside is important. Some wounds may need soap and water to get the bulk of anything that may obscure your view. And with smaller ones like these here it’s easy.” he says, pointing to some of the thin silver lines on his forearms before grabbing several products. First, there were small white paper packets, and he grabbed one of them, ripping the top off. Todd’s nose and sensory pits flared and his face wrinkled in displeasure at the harsh chemical scent of what it contained. “These are alcohol wipes. It’s a different alcohol than drinking, so don’t get any ideas even if you have recently taking a liking to it.” he teases and Todd makes a face at him that clearly conveys the disgust at tasting something that smelled the way that did, pulling a slight chuckle from the doctor.

“Now all you do is wipe this on a smaller wound like this.” he says, running it along a smaller scar close to his wrist. “Then you apply a bit of petroleum jelly to help seal it and keep bacteria from getting in, and cover it when you're done. For bigger ones like these here,” he gestures to his thighs, “Your going to need to stop the bleeding as best you can first, though you may not be able to do that entirely. Then you take this,” he holds up a container of alcohol, "and apply it to some gauze or cotton and clean around it and the surface of the wound. You don’t want to pour this deep in though, since you don’t want to dry out the wound too much. I’m not going to lie to you and say that it won’t hurt. It will. And these also need to be closed a bit better too. That’s where I’m going to add a few specialized products to your kit. I would highly recommend you come in for stitches for injuries like this, but I understand your desire for privacy around this, so after showing you these products, I’m going to teach you how to give yourself stitches too, but I must warn you it does hurt like a bitch.”

“That doesn’t concern me too terribly, Dr. Beckett. You may have noticed that I have an unhealthy relationship with pain.” he says, a slightly jovial tone coloring his multi tonal voice as the doctor takes another item wrapped in white paper from a box and peels the paper wrapper off.

“Aye, but it’s a much slower process to close the skin than open it, lad.” Carson says, holding up a small white strip that was thinner in the center than the ends. “We call this a butterfly bandage or butterfly closure. What you do is you peel the paper off one side, stick it to your skin on one side of the injury, and pull it closed, then stick the other side to the opposite side of the cut. It may take several of each of these products to close it, so if you ever need more just let someone know. I’m also going to include these wound closure tapes. You can use them the same way. Some of these stick better than others on certain parts of the body. You just need to find what works with your skin. The last closure bandage I’m going to include is a zip tie bandage or zip closure.'' He takes this out and shows him a more complicated bandage. “What you do for this one is first, you take the thicker edges and line them up on either side of the laceration, then you remove the backing from the thinner strips and pull, then secure them when the wound is closed. But like any adhesive product, these can be loosened by moisture, so if you can’t stop the bleeding by applying pressure and gauze within ten minutes like this, or the injury is spurting blood, you need to get yourself stitched up somehow. So I’m going to give you a suture kit. You ready for a bit of practice?” Carson asks.

Todd makes an affirmative noise and Dr. Beckett takes out a floppy, rectangular object the same color as human flesh. Not as light as some humans, not as dark as others. Somewhere right in the middle. There were gashes of several different shapes all over the top of it. After looking at it for a moment, it was clearly meant to mimic wounds on the human body for the purpose of practicing stitches.

“What I’m going to teach you now is called a simple interrupted suture. If this doesn’t hold, you’ll have to come into the infirmary for treatment.” he says and gathers some additional supplies. “So what you're going to need for this is your suture thread and needle right here.” he says. “Then you're going to need your needle holders, and some forceps. You're going to want to wear gloves if you can get them over your claws, and you're going to want gauze and saline on hand to keep any blood from blocking your vision.”

Todd pays careful attention to his instruction. This could save John’s life one day, after all, and if knowing this meant the difference between him surviving a self-inflicted wound, Todd needed to know this.

“First, you grip the edge of the wound with your forceps like this, and pull up slightly, then holding the needle with your needle holders, you pierce the skin, rotating your wrist, push the needle through the skin from the outside to the inside. Once that's through, you regrasp it with your holders like this, and pull a good length of the suturing thread through. Next, you regrip the needle with the needle grippers, and take the other side of the wound with the forceps like this, and pierce the skin with the needle from inside the wound to out, and rotate your wrist and pull it through. Next you have to tie the stitch off, so you wrap the thread around the grippers three times, and pull the free end through the loops, sliding them off the grippers, then pull taut with your forceps and grippers. You're going to want to repeat this two more times so the knot stays. Then you take your scissors and you cut the extra thread, leaving about 5 to 6 millimeters and you have this extra length off to the side so it doesn’t enter the wound. The suture thread in your kit should dissolve on its own as the injury heals. You ready to give it a go?” Carson asks, demonstrating the process as he spoke.

“Yes. This looks quite similar to how we finish tying off the designs in our civilian clothing. Just with the use of more implements. I’m assuming this is for sanitation?” he asks.

“Aye. Touching the thread could spread bacteria to it. Everything in your kit is sterile, so it’s important not to allow anything treating these injuries to become contaminated.” he says, taking some tomato soup out of his mini fridge and Todd raises an eyebrow. Or brow ridge

“What’s this for?” he asks. “Well, you’ll probably have to deal with bleeding if you're doing sutures, son. You’re going to need to learn to do this while continuing to clean the wound with saline and gauze. That makes it considerably more difficult, so I’m going to use this to simulate blood. Best not to wait until you may need to use this skill to perfect how you’ll need to multitask.” he says, spooning some soup into one of the simulated wounds.

Todd just stares at it for a moment, the absurdity and surrealness of it smacking him in the face before he bursts out laughing. He understood the practicality of this, but it didn’t make it any less hysterical, and Carson can’t help but join him before they get started on the practice. First they figure out how to get the gloves to work for him by wrapping his claws in gauze. Then they practice until Carson is confident in his ability to do it one handed, just in case it’s an arm injury as opposed to a leg one. The whole time giving him pointers about how to control bleeding and clean the wound before they move onto bandaging different sized wounds and types of dressings. When their done, they clean up the mess and Carson shows him where everything in the kit was and the various other supplies it included, then Dr. Beckett pours him another glass of scotch, telling him, “You deserve this Todd. Opening up about this isn’t easy, and I imagine you probably need something to help your nerves wind down a bit after all this. But you should be proud of yourself for taking this step.”

Todd accepts the drink gratefully, downing more of the human’s foul liquor before putting the outer layers of his uniform over his civilian clothing. “Thank you Dr. Beckett. You’ve been of incredible help, and I appreciate that you were able to do so in a way that was mindful of my dignity. I’d love to stay and talk, however, I’ve put off reunion with my hive for long enough, and I’m sure my kin would like to spend time with me in a familiar environment.” he says.

“Understandable. You have family on board your ship?” Carson asks as they throw away the last of the tomato soup soaked gauze.

“Yes. My second in command, the one Sheppard has taken to calling Kenny, is my clutch brother. There were thirteen of us. I was the first to hatch, and he the 11th. He’s the last living brother I have, so I’m sure he’s been anxious to catch up, and several of my sons serve on my ship as well. It’s not uncommon for us to serve under our queen mothers, who while not being a mother in the sense of birth does still take the same role in nurturing the clans young, fathers or sires, especially on our first few hives. My youngest, Ember, was part of the delegation today. This is only his second deployment, so he only just earned the tattoo on his chin. He looked a bit worse for wear today, like he hasn’t been sleeping properly. So I’m rather eager to assure him that I’m fine, and I can’t imagine his elder brothers fared any better.” he says, unable to keep the look of pride off his face when talking about his children.

“Multiple kids! Look at you Casanova. I’m sure you must make your queen quite happy to have had a second chance at her.” Carson says, patting him on the back.

“Oh, like I said, I made someone happy, but it was no queen. They only produce children when they desire to produce a daughter, and each queen has 3 wraith parents. I’ve many sons, but no daughters.” Todd says, chuckling softly at that, but Carson only looks at him with a confused expression “I’m sure you’ve noticed that we have 4 reproductive variations, though two phenotypical sex presentations. Our queens are the first and rarest of these at about .1% of our population, and only their gender presents as phenotypically female, though they don’t produce any reproductive cells of their own. They do have functional gestational organs, though among our phenotypical males, there are 3 additional sexes.”

“Aye, There are those of you with organs that produce spermatophores and this was about 75 percent of those whose remains I studied when there was a siege on the city, those who have gestational organs for partial incubation and produce egg cells in addition to organs that produce spermatophores made up an additional 20 percent, with slight variation to the cell depositing organ to allow eggs to pass, and last, about 5 percent of you have those who only produce egg cells, have a gestational organ, and the same variation of the depositing organ. Though we’re having a hard time determining how biological sex is determined. You don’t have the same genetic determiners with humans. We can only guess it’s influenced by an environmental factor.”

“Exactly. We all have the same chromosomal makeup, though like humans, we have many gene variations on our chromosomes. Unlike most species, this isn’t what determines sex. For most species, biological sex is genetically determined at conception by chromosomes. For us, it depends on the temperature of our egg’s incubation. Our queens have a slightly warmer body, and when a queen desires to produce another queen, she’ll carefully select a couple from among her hive already in a relationship who are able to produce both egg and spermatophore between them close to lay, or one who's organ who holds spermatophores, should he have recently lost his mate. So that his last child may be a wraith of high standing to honor him. If this couple consents to sharing each other with the queen, the male who produces eggs will spend casual time with the queen, and her pheromones will influence his body to produce one egg, larger than the typical, and have his mature egg fertilized by his mate or what he has stored, then lay within the queen immediately after its fertilized. Her warmer body temperature will cause the developing egg to be female, and during her development, genetic exchange occurs between the fetus and queen, giving her genetic traits of all three parents. Any male can lay within another male with a gestational organ if their unable to carry their clutch for some reason, and when not under the influence of the queens pheromones, the eggs are smaller and greater in number and can be laid within several other wraith, and they’ll also have three genetic parents, though whenever possible, we prefer to store our developing eggs in our own gestational organs. If for some reason it's not safe to, then we will, but I've never had the need. Typical clutch size for males is about 8 to 16 eggs, though mine tend to run closer to 4-8, and I’ve carried 6 of my own clutches and have 37 sons, though I’m incapable of fertilizing another’s clutch.”

“You must be so proud. But that makes sense and helps me understand the physical and genetic variation I’m seeing, and the varied reproductive roles. May I ask what causes sexual variation among the phenotypically male presenting members of your species?” Carson asks.

“That’s the temperature of the nest. The male’s secondary sex is determined later in development than a female. Hers is determined during the gestational period. The secondary sex of the male members of our species is determined as they develop in the nest. The eggs that are laid first are typically in the warmest part of the nest, and this causes us to develop traits most species would associate with the female sex. My particular sex variation occurs only in the warmest nests, usually laid in the hottest time of year on our hearth planet, with warmer planets and parts of the planet producing more wraith of this variation, and while being more uncommon, it's much more prominent than a queen. The most common variation from what you’d consider typically male is to produce both types of cells, and this is far more common than my variation, though still not our predominant sex. The eggs closest to the outside, that stay the coolest, almost always present as male. Those in a nest of an average temperature usually are entirely male presenting, but variations are most likely to occur in the oldest members of the clutch, since the bottom part of the nest is the warmest.”

“We have a couple species like that on earth, though they still have only 2 sexes. I have a couple wee baby turtles that the uncloned version of me had brought to Atlantis. I decided to continue caring for them.” Carson says.

Todd smiles at that information, glad that the idea wasn’t completely alien to him. “We have a few more non sentient species here in Pegasus like this as well. Reptiles, a few fish and some insects. The iratus bug is actually one of them. But I best get back to my hive now, see my family and friends again and let them know all is well and I wasn’t treated poorly on earth.”

“Understandable. You enjoy your time with your loved ones. Before you go I do have one last question though.”

“Of course.” Todd says, inclining his head.

“Would it be okay if I shared the information you’ve given me with our biologists? I wouldn’t need to share who gave me the information or the status of your secondary sex if that would make you uncomfortable.” Carson asks.

“Go right ahead. You don’t need to omit anything though. We don’t have the same stigma around our relationships and sexuality as humans do. Those of us who can carry on our species are proud of our ability to create new life, and those of us who are closest to queen genetically hold the highest positions. Before the war, it was usually wraith like myself who were commanders of our hives, as we’re most similar to our queens, though in the course of the conflict, that changed in order to protect the wraith who are capable of laying our young. I’m one of the few who decided to remain in my position, though my brother would describe much as what I do as, and I quote “An act of noble stupidity”. I wasn’t old enough yet to produce a clutch at the time of the war though, and was young and reckless. Physical and reproductive maturity are very different in our species. We don’t start producing mature eggs until around 2,500 years, and we only produce a clutch every 1,500 to 1,600 years, so recovery is slow and most of our race are very young.”

“I see. I would love to hear more about your society, but for now I’ll let you return to your hive. Thank you for sharing Todd. Go enjoy your family.”

“Thank you doctor. You have a good rest of your day.” he says, mimicking the action of waving his hand humans did when leaving, and walking out of the office with him, and they part ways in the infirmary, and Todd makes his way through the city, smiling and waving at the members of the expedition who had become friendly with him when they did so to him and makes his way out of the control tower to the outdoors, taking a deep breath of the ocean air and squinting as the sun hit his sensitive eyes. He almost didn’t notice Sheppard outside, leaving the tower where personnel quarters were housed and toward the pier.

He lengthened his stride to catch up to the man and made sure to make enough noise not to sneak up on him. “Sheppard, are we meeting in our usual place tonight?” Todd asks, a smile on his face. “I believe my brother brought some of the alcohol wraith make, and the taste of it is most pleasant compared to our usual fare.” he says.

“If you're sure you want to. I mean after what you said in our meeting today, I wouldn’t blame you if you would prefer to keep interaction with members of our expedition and military at a safe distance.” He says, looking far off and still reeking of shame and disgust, and the fresh tang of metal.

“If I had no desire to, I wouldn’t have asked, Sheppard.” Todd says, stepping in front of him and cutting him off, placing his hands on his shoulders. Todd noticed the slight flinch on his face at the grip, and the faint smell of electricity. The smell someone put off when experiencing stinging pain. He waits for it to wear off before speaking, looking John in the eyes. He had an idea of what he was doing in his quarters and why. Guilt over the truth of Todd's words. He understood why it would be upsetting, nevertheless, he couldn't allow him to wallow in these feelings, knowing how far into despair guilt had driven him before. Todd wouldn't allow it to fester into that.

“I had intended to wait until tonight to tell you this, but your whole demeanor reeks of self hatred. So I’m going to address this right now so it doesn’t interfere with your duties. First, you are forgiven. You did not know the full story of our history and this galaxy when you stepped through the Stargate, and found your people taken aboard a hiveship and your commander fed on. Officer to officer, anyone would see it that way, Sheppard. I too would have taken it to be an act of war. Second, you were the first non wraith to accept and state that what happened to us was an act of genocide. When you spoke your words earlier today, the whole of my hivemind, meaning the mind of every wraith on my ship, all their minds cried out at once in validation. Will there be clans and factions that never forgive your people? Yes. This is a certainty. But to my clan, and to my hive, your words were healing and gave us hope. So please brother, do not think that the nature of our friendship will change just because you now have a fuller understanding of events. When I said you are my brother after giving you the gift, I truly do mean that I feel the same way of you, as I do of those who hatched alongside me. So, as I believe you told me on Koyla's planet, buck up. Your self hatred reeks of vomit.”

John was slightly taken aback by this, the same rare, dumb, speechless look on his face that was there the first time Todd called him brother. Todd can smell relief on him, like sweetgrass on the wind, but an undercurrent of bile remained at his continued feeling of guilt. Todd expected that he would always feel a pang of it. But just knowing that their friendship remained in tact and that his apology was accepted, and brought healing eased the Colonel enough to lessen the sour scent.

At this, Todd's grip on his shoulders lessens and falls away. “That’s a bit better. I know you will alway regret how things have happened, but I want you to know, that in my 12,000 years, I too, have made command decisions without full knowledge of a situation going into it, and have come to regret them deeply, and the guilt still lingers millennia later. One situation in particular still haunts me frequently when I sleep. I once was sent to take out an ancient warship. It was an aurora class. We were given intelligence that they had a supply shipment coming from another planet, and they were stopping to resupply at a planet close to my hearth planet. I was one of the closest. What we hadn’t known, was that the ancients put their younglings on board to use as a living shield. With our lingering numbers, we understood how much of a treasure children are…” he looks away, up at the sky before continuing. “When we breached the hull of their ship, and the passengers on board got sucked into space… I never fully forgave myself. And the retaliation that resulted… My attack made them retaliate against my hearth planet. It resulted in the deaths of one of my parents, and my youngest brother fell as we fought side by side. But to live with it and myself, I had to learn to at least show myself compassion, even though I could not and cannot forgive myself. And so you must too, John Sheppard, even if the pain of regret will always linger.”

John doesn't know what to say to this, but the expression on his face is one of gratitude for his empathy and understanding. Seeing this, Todd inclines his head politely and says, “I'll see you tonight at our usual place at the pier, John Sheppard.” Before turning and heading in the direction of his hive ship.

John watches him go. And it's only once he left that John even thought to wonder why the fuck was Todd carrying an Atlantis issue first aid Kit?

Chapter Text

Guide stepped onto his hiveship and closed his eyes, allowing the feeling of his brothers to wash over him, feeling them brushing against his mind and allowing the colors of their emotions to flash through his mind in a vibrant kaleidoscope, and their mental embrace fills his mind with so much warmth that it emanates to his chest, and a light tingle settles into his skin over his heart. Home. He was home. Wherever his hive was, that was home. As he’d heard John say once, “It’s not the place. It’s the people.” And that was another thing he’d spoken that had proved true. Bonewhite, Ember, and his other 5 sons on board were waiting for him.

He greeted his children in the order of their birth first, as was their custom. He started with Shade, named for his quiet, calming presence, aptitude for stealth, and his resemblance to Guide’s father, who shared his name. The two were similar in so, many ways. This the oldest of all his sons. He’d served as his third in command for many deployments, and though many of his clutch brothers took command and crew positions among his ships, Shade chose to stay with him each deployment he went on. He was tall, with the frame of his father, and slender, like the father guide had lost. Like his grandfather had been, his hair was arranged in a style humans would refer to as locks that fell to his mid back with black beads at the very end of them. He had a tattoo in an elaborate pattern of swirls going up his neck and up the side of his face along his jaw and beside his ear resembling the patterns of turbulence in the water or smoke on the air, and a forked goatee that was the fashion among many wraith these days.

And like his grandfather, he was a brilliant political strategist, who helped serve as a liaison between the different clans who were part of this alliance, and was wise beyond his years. Guide consulted with him as often as he did his elders when planning negotiation among the hives of the alliance, and he knew more of the health of his Father’s mind than most of his brothers. When Bonewhite could not attend to him, it was often Shade who did. At 9,502, he was closer in age to Guide than most wraith alive today, and was the oldest of his clutch. And due to living so long, he was viewed with a status almost as high as his Grandsire and father in terms of life experience. And with this equal footing, he thought it only fair to care for his parent, as he did for him as a youngling. He wore a civilian outfit similar to Guide’s, but in black with jade stitching, and lacing down the open slits of his pants and the sides of his shirt had open slits with lacing as well. His shirt lacked fringe, and the sleeveless straps that went over his shoulders and formed the neckline of his shirt were made from leather rather than silk and were decorated with elaborate jade metal work. He looked tired but well, and they greeted each other fondly, foreheads touching with their safe hands at the back of each other's head. Feeding hands over their hearts.

The next was his 8th hatchling and the youngest of his first clutch, also 9,502. Frostfire, and they greet each other the same way, affection unguarded due to the relatively safety of the hive’s current position. A rarity with Frostfire, who was as fierce a wraith as his Grandsire, Shockwave, and Great Grandsire, Old One. He took a similar frame to them as well, though slightly taller, and the bulk of his muscles was slightly larger in mass than his as well, and he was among those of the highest physical prowess of their kind. His facial hair was more similar to Guide’s, though longer, was plaited half way down, and was fastened with a bead made from the skull of a small animal. His head was shaved on the left side and cut short on the right, reaching his jaw line and as unruly as Guide’s, albeit better maintained, with a couple small braids scattered about and fastened with wire. His tattoo took the form of black flames sweeping across his eye, over his forehead, and along the exposed scalp to the nape of his neck.

Frostfire was named for his cold decisiveness and searing fierceness in battle, fighting from the egg as Guide liked to say, and it wasn’t an exaggeration. His first act after emerging from his shell had been to bite the hand of his late sire, Iceyes, which had delighted the man, who was the only commander of their clan who held as high a military status as his mate. Guide missed him dearly. They all did. Frostfire was still in uniform, unlike Bonewhite and Ember, though his uniform had short sleeves and a distinct lack of their long coat tails. He was a master in weaponry and hand to hand combat, and had customized his uniform to allow him more freedom of movement and speed on the battlefield rather than the stealth that permitted them to slip into night time shadows, though Guide made sure he added a hood if he did have need to blend in during hours of darkness. As a parent, he did not like Frostfire’s high risk position at all, but as a commander, he valued his experience and would have no other weapons master on board his flagship.

While he was aware of Guide’s difficulty dealing with stronger emotions sometimes, he allowed his father space when this happened, understanding it was difficult for him to address and he wasn’t the most well suited to those types of conversations. He showed his comfort in other ways, like making sure the area where it happened was cleaned up while others attended to him, making sure his uncle and the others who attended to Guide never had missing items in the medical kit stored in his father’s quarters, and making sure there was water available to him when the episodes passed. His support was less direct, but still just as important. Guide didn’t know everything he did, and he preferred to keep it that way. He wasn’t the type of man who needed credit for his actions. He was just doing what needed doing and didn’t need to be acknowledged for being decent, and felt that those who did weren’t motivated by true decency, only the need to be seen that way, which was indecent.

None were on board of his second clutch, born 7,548 years ago, as all 6 had chosen to remain on their hearth planet or in orbit when Guide went to earth with the Atlantis expedition in order to assure their safety in his absence. He was grateful that he had experienced sons he could trust caring for their civilian population, and missed each of them dearly. But he was glad they were in a known safe location and took comfort in that fact. Even if the factions of wraith were embroiled in a deep civil war, hearth planets were off limits, and targeting them was a war crime in their society, to the point even non allied, and even rival hives would come to reinforce them in the event of a rogue faction attacking. The hearth planet was sacred.

Though his 17th, the 3rd of his clutch of 4, was there to greet him, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot, with dark circles from stress. He had long hair, down to his mid back, and had a long mustache that was braided on either side, and hung just past his collar bone. His tattoo sat on his cheek, conforming to the bone structure forming one large swirl below the cheekbone toward the ear with smaller lines following the large spiral, following the contour of his face, and spiraling the opposite way starting toward the center of his cheek moving outward and down along the jaw, approaching but not reaching his chin.

He also wore civilian clothes, made of the same silk, his pants a visually soothing soft lavender. His pants only reached mid calf, and had silver and black fringe along the bottom, and were baggy to allow for air flow and the slits were near impossible to locate since they blended into the gathers. Silver and black embroidery that took the shape of rolling waves decorated them heavily around the bottom, growing lighter as they made their way up the legs, stopping at the knees. Like his father’s, they were fringed, and bone beads decorated them gracefully on each piece of fringe. His shirt was black with lavender and silver fringe, with embroidery that matched the pants, and the neckline was beaded with matching bone beads. His shirt was longer in length with an asymmetrical hem, and slits in the side that stopped at chest level, allowing the front and the back of the garment to flow freely. The sleeves ended below the shoulders, where a human tee shirt would, though looser and gathering gracefully with matching fringe and bone beads.

His name was Mystify, for his unbounded curiosity and thirst for knowledge and innovation. Guide may dabble in science, but this son breathed it, drowned in it, and reveled in it. Even though at 6,354 years of age and being just over half as old as his father, who aside from being a commander has scientific aptitude of his own that danced circles around him in terms of innovative brilliance. He was equally eccentric and awkward though, and by choice hadn’t joined the scientific delegation. His communication style was almost exclusively telepathic rather than verbal as well, and was sensitive to loud noises and bright lights. Not that non verbal communication would cause a wraith communication issues. They were just as able to project their thoughts, and verbal communication was secondary to their nature.

Guide would allow him to head up the projects aboard the hive, but would never force him to step foot on Atlantis. He knew that he may not be able to process all the sensory input in such an unfamiliar environment. He may not struggle in the mind the way Guide did, but he did understand struggle in a different way, as he knew what it was to be a bit different. He never became involved in the process of cleanup or aftercare, as that would be too much for him emotionally to process, but he was aware of his father’s struggles in a less detailed way than his older brothers were, but perhaps had a more detailed knowledge of what the events may be that lead up to his struggle. Once the storms passed and Guide was patched up, Mystify would sit with him, even if they said nothing, just so his father could know that he was not alone, and that he was loved, and would press warmth and comfort into his mind until he fell asleep. Sometimes, they still shared a nest like when he was young, and it helped Mystify to feel assured of his social place in the family and hive as much as it helped Guide to reground and center himself.

He held the greeting longer with him to give him the same kind of reassurance, and Guide squeezed the nape of his neck with his safe hand in the way he liked that helped to calm his nerves, then his shoulders to help the man relax. He carried his stress in a more physical way than many wraith did, and felt more of it because of these sensitivities. When he’d overheard Radek Zelenka and Rodney McKay discussing a condition in humans called autism, he thought the symptoms described Mystify accurately, though without the isolation non verbal humans often experienced, and less meltdowns because telepathy allowed for others to perceive their needs non telepaths had a hard time figuring out in these individuals. Todd couldn’t be more grateful for their species’ gifts, which allowed Mystify to live a fairly normal life by comparison.

He greeted his 21st son next. He was the 3rd born of his 4th clutch of 7. A brilliant wraith named Foresite. He was more what humans would call a civilian contractor. He headed up the internal growth of the hive, planning where hallways and rooms would be placed, communal facilities, water treatment, garbage disposal. He made this ship run in working order and kept everyone on board comfortable and made sure everyone's needs were met. He was aided by a gift just as strong as his fathers with regard to the abilities some of their clan possessed. Seeing into other dimensions. Universes. Seeing what was best for the hive, and the most effective ways to plan infrastructure and setbacks before they arose. Even at only 4,807, he had already made it onto the senior engineering team already, not due to talent alone, but also due to his dedication to his job. And when push came to shove, he was more than willing to pick up a weapon and defend his hive.

His hair was braided down his back to keep it out of his face, though loose strands hung in his eyes and clung to his cheeks, and his facial hair was a closely trimmed soul patch. He had clearly been coping with his stress regarding the separation and his father's long journey by pouring himself into every project he could, and by the lines in his face and the greyer tone his skin was taking, it was at the expense of proper sleep and nourishment.

He had always needed reminders to eat, and was very slender among wraith, but he argued that it let him slip into larger hive veins for repairs and innovation. Were it not for their telepathic connection, he'd have no idea where in the hive walls he was half the time in order to drag him to the cocoon chamber for feeding, oftentimes, he would refuse until his father agreed to eat as well.

There was hive fluid smeared across his face. He was even dressed in the leather jumpsuit he wore, with the sleeves ripped off showing webbed tattoos going down his shoulders and fading toward the elbows, and a tool belt hung loosely to make alterations to hive veins and neural vines. Evidence that he had been working until he received word that Guide was boarding. Before placing his hand on his chest, he wipes the fluid away in a nurturing gesture and away from the web like tattoo at his hairline before pressing their forehead together, right hands over each other’s hearts and left hands at the back of their heads.

He could feel Foresite practically vibrating with the force of his busy, hyper active energy that came from a place of his constant anxiety. He was like McKay when he had too much coffee at all times. From looking into too many realities. Guide had seen many ways he died, himself, using the gift. Died on the trip to earth. And Foresite had too. He'd seen too many variations where he'd lost both parents across his comparatively short life, and some where he'd inflicted again. Foresite had probably the most anxiety about his habit. He’d seen too many variations where his father accidentally went too far. Some where it was purposefully. Especially after their sire passed.

He would hover for days after these episodes happened, his mind constantly brushing against his in order to make sure he was going forward instead of back to that place of void black, and would shower him with comfort and push the small, good things to his mind that would help pull his father out of his depression. Images of the little things that made him smile, even when he was in some far off corner in a hive vein working on some sort of system update. Sometimes, he'd unexpectedly pop in from a hive vent in the ceiling or wall just to make sure he was okay. He also had Iceye's captivating eyes.

The fifth son he greeted was named Burningheart, named for the love he felt for his brother's and all living things, and the depth of his compassion, which Guide thought, until recently, was a trait unique to their kind, and hadn't believed existed in other species until speaking to Dr. Keller, probing to see if humans saw it as weakness and fishing for information on how humans interacted with it. His heart burnt with how much he cared for those around him. He was his 29th son. The youngest of his 5th clutch. He was known to be beautiful, like Bonewhite, his uncle, with the delicate features just like his grandfather, Shade. Guide had been too in better days. His face was clean shaven, and he had long wavy hair, down to hips, with small braids scattered about his scalp, strung with numerous beads of detailed craftsmanship in phthalo green, sparkling gold, gleaming silver and obsidian black. His facial tattoo was in the center of his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, with one line running the center, and two shorter ones beside it on either side. At the end of each line, was a vector pointed up toward his forehead at the top, and toward his chin at the bottom, with two smaller vectors below each one for 9 total.

He was wearing a long, white tunic, reaching his mid calves with short sleeves that split at the shoulder down to the bottom, leaving them fluttering with a shallow v neck line that sat just below the hollow of his throat, with slits going up the sides that went up halfway between his knees and hips, preferring length to pants. He ran a bit warmer than most wraith, and also just liked the look of it. He appreciated beauty, and took care to cultivate it in his own appearance. And the decoration of his clothing reflected this, with embroidery with scenes of nature, small leaves, grasses, grains and flowers up the front and back of his tunic in forest green, black, gold, and silver, with three small, silver disks stitched to the front of the tunic at the bottom of the neckline to the bottom of the sternum, lined in green stitching. The fringe on the bottom of the tunic was strung with tiny green beads with one larger bone bead at the bottom, and a pattern formed along the neckline with the same beads. He had the slightest shimmer of silver around his eyes, and black rimming the water lines, in an attempt to hide the dark circles around them, but Guide could not miss them there, knowing each of his children's faces by heart.

He has joined their armed forces as a conscientious objector, making sure that the drones didn't get too out of control and cause unnecessary suffering during cullings and feedings, and made sure torture didn't take place. He diplomatically fought for the protection of other civilizations in pegasus. He was only 3,391 so not many hives or commanders took him seriously, calling him young and idealistic, but Guide was proud. He knew their kind needed to move from the old paths onto new brighter ones, where they could heal from their mistrust and anger. Nevertheless, he'd tried to stop the destruction of several worlds, including Sateda, and earlier, Athos. Tried to convince other hives to feed from and gift consenting humans without turning them into enzyme addicted worshipers. The proposal had been his idea. He was rather a controversial figure in their society. As much of a wild card as his father, maybe even more. There were many wraith who would call him a traitor to their kind. Many who loved him. Or as Guide suspect, lusted. A fact that Guide knew he sometimes had too much fun with.

They were sometimes at odds about his personal choices regarding using this in a political sphere, but he had learned to reel that in when his Father was agitated or upset, and didn't travel between hives for diplomatic negotiation. Instead, he'd make sure he was there to take care of him in the ways he neglected himself, waking him up with clean clothes for the day and reminding him to shower and care for his teeth. He would make sure his hair was brushed and his nails and teeth were cleaned when he'd allow it. He didn't know anything specific about his Father's struggle with constant anguish or self infliction, but he knew anyone felt better when clean, cared for, and in fresh clothing. And even this did wonders to help his mood. He smooths his hair down as they pull away, making sure it was all in place as he liked it.

Finally, he greeted Ember again. He was the youngest of his last clutch. He was only 1,804 and apprenticing under his father as a bridge officer, and was on his way to commander one day. He tenderly places his palm on his cheek before greeting him. He looked better than he did during their meeting with Atlantis already. He wore a long sleeve, deep purple tunic, and like his brother, Burningheart, preferred length to his clothing, but also wore long, flowing pants with enough gathering to hide the slits like Mystify’s, though longer, and the top had long butterfly sleeves that were baggy enough to allow air flow and him to remain cool, despite his desire for modesty. The tunic had a lace up v neckline, but was less flashily decorated, with subtle snowflake embroidery in lilac and simple bone beads with geometric patterns carved at the end of the lacings.

He leaned into the touch and smiled at his father. The two of them shared a close bond. They had much in common. He had been worried when Ember was forced into helping with the siege of the midway station, and relieved the child had been unharmed. At first he thought in his young ambition, he'd been trying to impress him, though it turned out the other wraith was going to program a fatal error into their life support systems if he didn't comply, and he’d been young enough to panic and go along, and was targeted for this plan because of his skillset. He was very proficient in understanding various operating systems around Pegasus. The young did do so well with technology. The way he could work around the systems of any ship or structure was incredible, and he had the technical aptitude to lead a hive one day. But they were more alike in just their vocational aptitude and knack for finding themselves in trouble.

Ember had his reasons for preferring modesty. Though he knew that the hive was vaguely aware he inflicted, he still preferred to hide the evidence of his habit. He only had a few incidents in the past 500 years, starting when he’d lost his first sweetheart. It had only been what humans called puppy love, but the boy had not only died in front of him, he'd died saving him. They had been gathering food for the young of their clan. It had been during the colder months and there was heavy, wet snow, and the air, misty. Fresh fruits the younglings preferred was rare this time of year, so they went looking for game with some of the adult hunters. The other boy's parents. They had need of the leather and fur for warmth in the nest, their military uniforms, and shoes. Bones were used in art, tools, and spiritual ceremony. Sinew was used to stitch their work clothing and boots. Some organs were consumed. Others, to create bags or watertight pouches. Hunting was a skill needed on the hearth planet.

They’d been tracking a creature very similar to a wild boar that day, and had been spear hunting. But while following the path of one animal, they hadn't realized it was coming close to a member of its species that was nearby. They hadn't seen any tracks for it since it was approaching the animal they were tracking. And them. There were no tracks or trails to be read that would have indicated its presence from the direction they approached. And when they came upon their quarry, surrounding it to take the animal by the steep bank of a river on slippery ground, they’d realized too late it was not alone. Its companion barreled toward his son, and he'd have been taken into the freezing water had the boy not stepped in front of him and pushed him out of the way, putting himself in its pathway instead.

When his cold blooded body hit the freezing, fast moving rapids, he lost control of voluntary movement, his muscles seizing and forcing him to curl in on himself, and was unable to pull himself above the surface to breathe or keep himself from being tossed around against the boulders in the rapids. They located his body further up stream, but at that point it was too late to save him. It was the first time he had seen death. Hearing what happened, Guide returned home, and when his mind brushed the younglings, he felt a familiar anguish, and familiar sting on his arms, and broke a little inside. He never wanted any of his children to know this kind of pain. He didn't say anything, but he held him close, pouring all his love and comfort into him, and sitting with him and accepting his pain in a way nobody had ever been able to do for him. Rocking him like he was small again and letting him cry on his shoulder.

He could never treat the injuries himself. Not without his own urges making themselves known, and he wouldn't be able to hide that from Ember, and that would only make it harder for the youngling. It was normally Shockwave or Bonewhite who helped then, but when Guide opened his mind to him, he didn't need to explain to the little one why he couldn't look upon a fresh injury like that. But whenever either of them had an incident, they would hold each other close the moment they were done being attended to and relatively safe, sitting with and understanding each other's pain in a way nobody else could. He brushed the child's mind to see if he had been well in that way while he had journeyed to another galaxy, and pushed a flood of relief through their link, and his pride that he had been kind to himself, and his love and desire to never see him hurt that way again.

He failed to notice the tears in his eyes until he turned to his brother, who wiped them away with his thumbs before greeting him. He was now dressed in ivory civilian clothing, cut like Guide’s, with black and silver embroidery in sweeping lines with a black leather neckline and shoulder straps. The leather had silver iratus bug reliefs embossed onto the surface with sweeping ivory detailing in a pattern similar to his facial tattoo, and black embroidery on the shirt in the same sweeping lines, going from the sides at the edge of the black laced slits, toward the center of the shirt, drawing the eye toward the center, and sweeping lines also swept from the slits in his pants toward the center of the pant leg, though they were a bit different than Guide’s in the sense that a black strip of silk hung down from the center in the front and back of the garment with silver iratus embroidery at the bottom of the strip that fell half way below the knees and above the ankles, in a decorative, graceful design that also provided more modesty in the event the lightly colored pants became wet. Bonewhite didn’t bother with decoration like fringe or beading and found the sensation of it against his skin annoying, but the ankle ties, which were made from black silk, were decorated with more small, silver iratus charms like the ones along his neckline. A clothing set Guide had commissioned from one of his own civilian sons last year, when they reached their 12th millennium. He’d nearly forgotten that they were turning 12,000 last year since he'd lost something like 200 of them, and had paid extra to have the gift rushed. He was happy to see it used as often as it was, becoming his preferred set. It brought a smile to his face.

His mind brushes Guide’s, urging him to follow, projecting his smell to their mind, and Guide rolls his eyes. Communal bathing and grooming was an important social behavior in their clan, and most of wraith society, which he often made himself too busy for in recent days, or too scarce to find. However, there would be no getting away from it this time, his brother’s firm insistence made that clear. And he couldn’t say the scent he had been projected was anything close to nice.

They made their way to the family quarters they shared, which relatives were permitted when they served together. Foresite grew them custom for each deployment, and allowed quarters for couples and larger family groups as well as for individuals. Individual quarters held a nesting room and multipurpose room, where they could stow means of entertainment, weapons, stations for work that they wanted to attend to outside of regular hours, art projects, and anything else they desired. They were more simple than the couples quarters, which had a small bathing area, though individual quarters tended not to have this. There were communal areas for this. The odd individual quarter did have this, for wraith who had personal reasons to prefer modesty, such as self infliction or past assault. It was rare, as their brethren didn’t do this to each other, though there were situations among those who had found themselves captured by humans for one reason or another. Though most were able to break free eventually, where they had experienced that form of violation, but it left them shaken and in understandable need of privacy. It was largely the reason why the wraith hadn’t believed them capable of compassion. All personal quarters did have a wash area for personal areas and clothing storage though.

Family quarters were more complex, and tailored to the family groups needs prior to deployment. Theirs had a room for communal living, with furniture and a table, decoration from their hearth planet in the unique style of their clan, a large rug and even a table. There were organic doors, like the floors, ceilings and walls. The left wall had one that opened to a hallway where 8 nesting rooms sat, 4 on either side. There was a door at the back of their rooms for storage, projects, entertainment, like was available in individual quarters, as well as one off to the right, where there was a communal bathing area. Guide’s personal nesting room had further customization after returning from his long captivity, giving him a smaller, personal bathing area for days where it was just too much to have that much of his skin showing or have someone else wash his back or touch his hair. Today wasn’t one of those days though.

They go to their person's quarters to gather what they needed first and change into bathing attire, which was basically a clean set of undergarments in a dark color for modesty that had a long strip from the back that ran between their legs and up the front and tied, then the extra length fell over the ties in the front, leaving them access to most of their skin, though personal areas were washed separately, and the extra layer hid the skin as well as the shape. Those were easy to reach, and didn’t require as much care as the rest of their body in order to keep it from becoming too tight and solid, and personal wash areas were a separate cubicle in nesting areas, right beside clothing storage.

A wraith who didn’t bathe for hundreds of years grew skin as hard as an insect’s carapace. Making sure the skin was well cared for and softened was why this was such an important social behavior. The process of the skin tightening and hardening was a painful one, and movement during it was even more painful, with the skin tearing and bleeding and forming hardened plates that would rub against the raw flesh underneath in a biological process known as scaling. It took time to remove them and restore the flesh along where it scaled, and they used skin care products to soften their flesh and keep this from happening.

Each of them had their preferred products that they brought with them, with different properties and scents. Guide preferred the fresh energizing scent of a tree that grew on his hearth planet. There were also hair care products, but Guide had run out of products before leaving and didn't pay much attention these days. Not since he had escaped with John Sheppard. He'd once had long hair down past his hips, but in his first days of his captivity, he’d shorn the many, many small rope braids in his hair, obsidian beads and all, because of the feeling of what they were doing when they put his hands in his hair. And it was why he hated tooth care. Anything near his mouth really. But he shuts that train of thought down quickly. He couldn't think of that now. He was glad he was subconsciously able to hide that from the link. And all things related to it. Since it wasn't natural behavior to them, what had happened didn't translate well telepathically either.

After changing they put their clothes in storage where the set is cleaned so they can wear them after bathing. A new set of clothes was expensive. All the Silk was home spun and dyed. So they had preferred sets for everyday wear. They did have several sets, but they rotated to the situation, mostly seasonally and according to the climate where they were located, but there was a set they all preferred, and Lantia wasn't so far from their hearth planet for them that they had no reason to choose a warmer or cooler set It was a touch warmer, but windy. So their standard fair would cut it, though it was still cooler than home this time of year. Their current sets would require cleaning before redressing though. Next he gathers some special brushes for cleaning the skin and a product to apply once the skin had dried.

He wears a simple, sleeveless tunic that wrapped around the front and tied at the sides that was meant to wear betweens one's quarters and the bath, and made his way down the hall to the humid bath chamber, and a few of his kin had already trickled in. Mystify and Burningheart had already begun to soak, and were helping each other work products into their scalp to keep the skin comfortably soft. Bonewhite was soaking his feet, and Frostfire sat in waist deep water, letting it help his muscles relax. Foresite was still wiping down after work in the personal cleaning area and Shade always took the time for oral hygiene first.

Guide hangs his robe on one of the hooks and goes and sits at the shallow end of the pool, not far from Bonewhite, and dips his feet into the treated water. It had a percentage of collagen and antioxidants mixed in to help keep the skin soft and moisturized, and he had problems with scaling around his ankles. It had mostly gone away since his captivity with the Genii, but the skin was still rougher and dryer, and when he could be convinced to bathe, he spent extra time on this. He’d had some in areas of most of his body when he escaped, that partially healed when feeding during the escape and with exfoliation after the fact, but his ankles had needed maintenance more often now, and he starts exfoliating them with a product made by crushing the pit of an fruit found on his hearth and adding it to a mixture of a lightly acidic cream made from an inedible fruit and the oil of a nut. He rubs this in small circles on his ankles, and Bonewhite works it into a few harder to reach places on his back, scrubbing to make sure the abrasive product softened and peeled away small layers of hardened, thickened skin. It should only be a bath or two until his skin is fully restored, and the scraping and tingling sensation was soothing, though it would be fully gone by now if he could bring himself to do this regularly.

After exfoliating he scrubs any dirt from his skin, he and Bonewhite taking turns helping each other with hard to reach parts of their back and the meticulous process of washing their spinal ridges. This was much faster with help, and scaling here would be painful on such thin skin. As usual, Foresite and Shade arrive while he and Bonewhite work on this, and by that time, Mystify and Burningheart are working on their toe and finger nails, and Frostfire joins them, starting his routine here after soaking for a while to relaxing the muscles he worked hard to build. Something he used to do with Iceyes It's about now that Ember walks in. It usually took him a few minutes longer because of his habit. It wasn't that there was judgment from his family, but the boy was young, and like the young of any species, felt insecurities in physical difference. Mystify struggled with this to a lesser degree, but he loved the water, and it inevitably always won out, and he always felt so at home.

His Sire,Shockwave, was the child of a wraith who had gilled sides, and when they took to the stars, many of his father’s clan left for a more comfortable world for those of their clan’s physical traits. However, the majority of Shockwave and Shade’s children took traits from Shade’s clan, and were most comfortable on the homeworld. When the children who took traits of Shockwave's clan, some decided to stay, and some to leave when they got older, and of Shockwave’s grandchildren, Mystify was among the 12.5 percent of them to have gills. Their Grandsire stayed on their hearth to teach his descendants born with this trait how to swim and hunt in the water and about the spiritual connection they had to a subspecies of iratus bug found in wet parts of the hearth planet. Many clans existed still in some ways on their hearth planet because it had been their homeworld before they took to the stars and started making comfortable homes on uninhabited planets, comfortable and suitable to each clans needs and culture. Their clans always had remained close though, as theirs were both worlds that were inhabited by the iratus bug, and the hearth planet that was their original world had a few subspecies, including the one found on the planet where Shockwave’s clan had found a home.

Foresite was beside Ember when they finally entered the bath. He perhaps, understood Ember’s insecurity the most because of all the variations he’d seen, so he usually had an idea of what was bothering him and the best way to comfort him, and they normally helped each other wash the difficult places, like Bonewhite did for him, though Shade, Frostfire, Burningheart, and Mystify didn't pair off regularly with any particular family member for this. They hadn't trauma or insecurities regarding their body and assisted and received assistance from whoever was best at a particular aspect of hygiene.

Burningheart was good at nail care, for example, Frostfire descaling, Mystify with scalp and hair care, and Shade had a knack for not missing a spot on the spinal process or snagging the brush anywhere along the thin, delicate skin that stretched over the bony vertebral extrusions that could be injured so easily. Sure they’d heal quickly, but it didn’t make for a relaxing bath when that happened. Before his Genii captivity, Foresite, Bonewhite, and his mate, Iceyes, who was named for his unique blue eyes, and unmatched skills as a gunner, would join everyone else. Their bolts were also blue like Ice, just like his eyes. A remarkable shade unlike any human's. And if you ever harmed anything he held dear, his justice was cold and calculated, and had equal power to crush you under it's weight. Like a more jaded Burningheart. He joined all them in more of a group setting as well while Guide assisted Ember, but this had become more difficult since he returned, and sometimes the difference was all too keen. He knew Bonewhite probably could guess what happened too. He was also 12 millennia, and had been alive during the Lantian-Wraith war, and knew the stories of what happened to some prisoners of war, though Guide had never told him specifics. He’d just taken upon himself to help Guide separately, and Foresite had started helping his brother. He’d have made a good spiritual leader, had he not decided on another path, and right now, the hive was where he was needed. Maybe one day though.

Foresite knew though. Guide had no doubt this was because of the gift he had, and had seen everything that happened to him across so many variations. If he hadn't known, then Guide would have had to ask for the private bathing area, but it was just there when they deployed. Mystify helped him seed the growth of the hive though, so he’d been told to program this during hive growth. Him and Foresite had engineered these bathing chambers together, and he was well aware of the reasons they were needed, and his father already had a habit before his captivity, and had no need of them before. This only confirmed that at least two other’s knew to some degree what happened, and one for sure.

As Bonewhite washed and conditioned his hair, he couldn't get the thought that they knew from his mind, and when they rinse their hair, Bonewhite Senses that his Brother had had enough, and sets the brush down at the side of the bath and inclined his head, allowing him to retreat, briefly passing him the knowledge of where their nectar wine was stored, and he takes the opportunity to dismiss himself, going back to his nesting chamber to dress and grabs a bottle for the nightly stargazing from their multipurpose room. He needed fresh air, so he figured he would go to the pier to watch the sunset before Sheppard showed up.

He dresses hastily and grabs the wine, his hair still wet as he leaves and heads for the pier, instantly feeling less trapped with the open air and sky above him. He breaks for their usual spot at the end of the pier. He hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone until he sat at the edge of the pier with his legs dangling off the edge, hair still dripping wet. He hadn’t noticed the human queen and her young, pacing and rocking him, at the same end of pier on the other side, approaching him with Torren in her arms. Or his heavy breathing. She recognized that the wraith was having what the Atlantis doctors called a panic attack. A fact that worried her deeply.

“Todd?” She asks, making her way closer, but her steps were slow and deliberate, giving him time to recognize her presence. His head whips around and a reflexive snarl tears its way from his throat, his eyes wide. She flinched a little at the reaction and paused her steps, holding her free arm up in a display of her intent to do no harm and signal she was unarmed, taking him in, her eyes pausing at his bare arms, but carefully keeping her shock from her face. This was a side of the ancient Commander she’d never seen before, and she couldn’t stop herself from being concerned, even if she wanted to. She waits for him to recognize her, and it only takes a moment before Guide turns his attention back to the ocean.

“My apologies. I hadn’t seen you there, and was startled.” he says, doing his best to put his voice to rights, though Teyla did detect the strain. She seats herself at a nearby bench, startled in her own rights at his admission. “I’m sorry to have snuck up on you. Perhaps you should come sit with me and Torren, instead of so close to the edge, as you are now. Were you to become surprised again and fall in, it would likely be dangerous, and perhaps embarrassing to explain. And it would be a pity if your nectar wine fell in.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t sure what to say to that. Because she was right. Instead he gets up and sits where he was told, keeping to the opposite side of the bench, placing the bottle beneath it for safe keeping. It was where he and John normally sat. For some reason, this helped put him at ease. For a while neither of them say anything, though when Todd’s breathing remains quickened, she cautiously moves closer, making sure he is aware of it. This reminded her too much of her experience off world where they were going after a team that hadn’t returned or checked in when scheduled, that they’d later come to find out was because of a wraith device the Genii had been messing around with. It had caused John to relive what happened to him and Charlie during the Captain’s final hours. She had heard of don’t ask don’t tell before this incident, so she’d never shared with anyone what she had found out, but she had been there when he’d been reliving it. And as a spiritual people from a planet that was culled regularly by keepers, the Athosians, were familiar with trauma and had developed many effective ways of coping with it. Many of them were able to recognize it, and because of Teyla’s gifts, she also found herself perceiving it in the wraith who sat a short distance from her.

And she could tell that Guide was reliving something now. She knew from her time among the wraith, posing as Guide’s queen, and yes, she had been able to detect his name in that time, though kept it between them. She understood now that it was more than the sound. It was an evocation of who the wraith was in soul and among their people, unique to every individual even if it shared the same sounds with another’s when spoken. So much meaning was lost. And that John and he shared the same name in their telepathic language. She’d come to appreciate the beauty of it and the depth, and had come to understand why they preferred it to spoken language. It gives her the idea that it may be easier to reach him this way. She slides up next to him, the infant between them, and places her right hand on his shoulder, her forehead against his in a way that she now realized was similar among both their people, and gently brushes his consciousness with hers, placing it between guide and the hivemind in case this was something he didn’t want to share, like what she’d felt him do when they were practicing for her time spent undercover as queen. She feels his surprise but lets her in a bit.

He tries not show her specifics, but she feels hands in her hair, vaguely aware they were Koyla’s, and the commanders who served before him for 200 years. A brief flash of long, intricately braided hair. Artisan beads. Then the feeling of cutting it all off. Herself. She didn’t want to feel it again. Choking. She was choking. He attempted to push it down, but not before she’d distinctly heard John’s outraged cry to stop. His shock at that. None of the other prisoners had tried to stop it, though he had been able to smell shock on many, and rage on some. All too afraid to do anything. At that point he had nothing to cut his hair off again with. And Koyla was the worst of them all. He managed to push it down, and he felt Teyla’s shocked understanding, disgust at what had happened, gratitude for John’s character, the full realization of why he trusted John so much, her understanding that John was the only one other than one of his children who knew what happened in detail, though a few close to him had an idea. Children, he felt her shock at realizing he had children, and her sudden understanding of how their children came to be, and that though their queens took a maternal role in raising young when she was present, the love of a wraith father was similar in many places to what she felt and was to Torren, and that a wraith sire was more similar to the role of a human father, though there were still distinct cultural differences. She feels his laughter at her shock.

An understanding of their history as a people and seeing all the Athosians and Wraith had in common, right down to their similar greeting and beautiful textile and rug craft. How he had a son who would have objected to the destruction of the people who inhabited Athos and Sateda. She saw why their homeworlds were of such interest to the wraith. The ancients had taken some of the first humans who became wraith, 14,500 years ago, from among their people. How some rouge wraith and hives took out their pain at their history out at the reminder of what they once had, and feared that they would raise up against them.

The wraith weren’t just of human and iratus descent. She saw now that they were Athosian. At least those who were the propagators of Guide’s clan. And one Satedan. Similar cultural practices, military greetings, familar greetings, clan structures, communal bathing, sparing, hunting, singing and meditation. Spiritual, but warriors. She understood why it was important socially, culturally even, from a human perspective, and she suddenly understood the physiological reasons for this too. And that for his own physical need, pushed himself to do something difficult, and found himself taken back to an unwelcome memory. An understanding of their people’s mistrust of humanity and deep deep loss. This important part of family time had changed forever. That this wasn’t natural behavior to them. Teyla knew this happened too often to prisoners of war across human society, and the very recent understanding that this was done only by the worst offered by humanity, not the default, before she felt Guide gently push back. She knew he hadn’t meant to share so much. She quickly redirects the thought flow, gently probing about if that was the reason for his arms. She feels him stiffen, but conveys that she’d known other’s who’d done this before, and he relaxes, and shows her the faces of his brothers, and of his father. Of the ancient’s attack on their home world. His anguish over what had caused it. How Guide hadn’t known. Guilt. Overwhelming guilt. He blamed himself for the deaths of those children. And for the deaths of his family members. She sees the crash on a Genii planet, the death of Guide’s mate. If only he could fly faster… Realizing later he’d been lucky to have passed. She gently pulls away at this, both mentally and physically but leaves their foreheads together. She could feel his need for privacy. He was overwhelmed by the memories.

What she does next surprises Guide perhaps more than anything she’d ever done. She placed Torren in his arms. Then she places both hands on his shoulders and squeezes them, before wrapping her arms around him, drawing him out of his memories, and back to the world around him. The youngling in his arms. The hands on his back, arms squeezing him tight. The smell of the ocean. His drying hair. The setting sun. Her forehead against his and their breathing of the same space. The smell of tea, the herbs in her Athosian products. The similarity of some of them to what was used by their people.

And the wind on his arms. His exposed arms. They tighten a little around the baby, and Teyla pulls away, seeing his discomfort at this realization, and removes the silk outer robe she had been wearing. It had originally been Halling’s though she’d given it to her during her pregnancy when she didn’t have a summer robe that fit her. Silk. Another thing they had in common, though theirs was made from an Athosian moth. It did, by chance, match what he was wearing due to the jade beads and black on black embroidery. A Wraith or Athosian may be able to spot the difference, but not the base personal, and certainly not his drinking buddy. She holds it out and offers it to him, and his eyes widen.

“What you showed me makes us family Todd.” she says, using the name John gave him to not detract from the full meaning of his name. “You are clan of my people’s planet. This is what family does for each other.” He lets out a true, multi-tonal laugh at this, graciously accepting it as true and leans his forehead against hers a moment, briefly touching her mind with gratitude, making Torren laugh at the sound of the unfamiliar multi toned chuckle, and reach up for him and grab his hair. For once, Guide didn’t even register it for anything other what it it was, rather than associating it with his past, and laughs with the child for a moment before gently untangling his fingers from his hair with practiced ease. He was a father of 37, all of which hatched much smaller than this. Then he hands the child back, and accepts the robe, which reaches just past his knees and pulls the hood up. It could button just below the hood, but was otherwise open at the front, and he elected to keep it unbuttoned. Just as she thought though, it fit well. Guide and Halling had a similar frame, though the man never wore it. It wasn't to his tastes. “Keep it. It’s like it was made for you.” She tells him

“You have my thanks.” he says, inclining his head in thanks. It’s returned with a casual, “Don’t mention it. John should be here soon. I’ll go put Torren to bed now. That way John won’t ask why we were seated together. Are you well now?”

“Yes I am. Thank you again.” he says, giving her a true smile.

She smiles back and turns to go, sending him a push of comfort and warmth as she left, allowing him some time to gather his thoughts, and pull himself together before John gets there. He takes a couple deep breaths and reaches out to the kin hivemind and lets them all know he’s fine and he was just a bit overwhelmed, and that he’d be back later. He and his human brother usually watched the stars together. When Bonewhite accepted this, his children didn’t question it, and they went back to brushing each other's hair, braiding and combing, now unworried for their family member.

Then Guide enjoys a moment’s solitude after an eventful day, watching the sun set, and the stars come out, slowly twinkling to life as the city lit up. The beautiful scenery and slight passage of time allowed him enough time for him to finish pulling himself together before John finally arrived. He’d clearly thought to wear at least some civilian clothing this evening as well, and other than a pair of black BDU’s, was dressed in a gray Led Zeppelin shirt, which he knew to be a earth musical ensemble the Colonel was fond of, that they’d listened to on the flight back to Pegasus when making repairs to the chair’s systems. He wore a long sleeve black and red flannel button down, his dog tags, a black beanie, and black flip flops with a canvas strap. He carried what appeared to be a bottle of nectar wine as well and two glasses. “I ran into Teyla earlier. She said you two talked. Didn’t say about what. But she noticed that you had a bottle of what looked like mead. Since you normally say our liquor tastes like hive exhaust fumes I thought I’d bring this instead.” he offers.

“We call it nectar wine.” Guide says, inspecting the bottle and handing the one he’d brought to John.

“So do the Athosians. You guys seem to have a lot in common actually. She said something about some of the original Wraith coming from Athos.” John says as they unscrew the corks. John with a simple machine he’d brought for the purpose, Guide with a claw.

“Yes. My grandparents on my Father’s side. Old One, My Father’s sire and his mate were Athosian, along with Queen Death, Coldamber, who he served. You met her in the drilling platform. The old city was called Emerge. My grandsire on the other side. My grandfather on his mate's side was Satedan before becoming wraith. He took the name Coldwind after his transformation, from a war nickname on Sateda. I believe I told you one of my brothers was named for him. Though I’m sure I should tell Ronan that directly. Not leave it to another. He should hear that directly from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

“Yeah… I don’t know how he’ll take that, but best not to let him find out from someone else and let him think you withheld that information.” John agrees as each pour a glass of the mead the other brought. They sit there in silence for a moment. Neither of them said anything.

“She wouldn’t say it, but she thought you were upset by something. I’ve spent enough time around her to be able to tell.” John offers after a moment, both staring up at the sky, the two moons and stars sparkling over the dark water of the Lantian ocean at night.

“I… I saw to some personal grooming today and was washing my hair and scalp. It did cause me to unwillingly recall some things.” He explains.

John doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He knew what he was referring to. He was there. They never discussed it. But tonight, they acknowledged it had happened. Just this step was a big deal. And although John doesn’t say anything, he reaches over and pats Guide on the back. Guide didn’t say anything more at first. But tonight was different and he decided to open up a bit more.

“I lost my mate when our darts went down. I’m only glad it did not happen to him. Or that he did not see what you did. He’d have never forgave himself for allowing that to happen. We both know nothing could have stopped him. And had he lived, though it might never have happened, the likelihood of this alliance ever forming would be astronomical. It's the best hope we have to save our species from self destruction. And that's what he would have wanted, more than his own life, for the sake of our sons.” he confides. He knew John would be able to relate to that a lot. Though he didn't have children of our own. The look on his face when he turned to Guide conveyed that. And his shock. John downs his glass at this and says.

“I lost a partner that way too. I don't really talk about it much. Our relationship would have been frowned upon. Had some serious backlash when it came out. I can't promise I would know what to say. Hell, I'm pulling half this out my ass before I process what's coming out of my mouth, Todd. But if you just ever need the company of someone who gets it, well…” he holds up his glass and looks up at the stars. “You know where to find me.” He says, making note to ask Dr. Beckett about the kids part later.

Todd wasn't sure if he should say it or not, but figured honestly got you further. Much like he figured would be better with Ronan. “General O'Neil mentioned something like that. I'm attempting to implement better family leave policies in my alliance for situations like this, since it's not just myself, but our kids who needed time they never got when it was only me who returned, and he said your armed forces aren't anything to model it after. I had planned to offer you the same thing because of this. He said certain parts of your culture stigmatize relationships of the same sex, but that doesn't exist in wraith society. So if you ever need company who just wouldn't even think twice about it, as you said, you know where to find me.” he says, pouring himself another glass.

For a long stretch of time, neither of them say a word. Minutes go by in comforting, companionable silence. They each pour themselves a third glass, watching shooting stars and new stars appearing as the hour grew later, only growing visible as the planet rotated on its access. They both knew how much the passage of time wore on from this. Neither worried. Even in silence, they both understood. It had probably been the worst day of each of their lives. Though for Guide, it was hard to pick one. He figured it was much the same for John, but that day was certainly a contender.

After they each finish off the bottle, they sit there a few more minutes, the hour growing late, and when John yawns, Guide says, “I have family on board my hive John Sheppard. It's late, and they'll be retreating to their nests soon, and I would like to catch them before that. The two I greeted today were my brother and youngest son. I'd meant to explain to you that greeting is for family and close friends. The bow is our version of your salute. If that youngling approaches you with his hand extended like that, he knows you are my brother, and also thinks the way a human would react may be entertaining. There is a betting pool going around with the young ones regarding your reaction.” He explains.

“Your youngest is a chip off the old block I guess. I saw the look Kenny gave the two of you today. I can only guess you were thinking the same thing. You going to cut me in?” John teases, registering the moment Guide was talking about. He laughs at this and only nodes his head in confirmation. “I do see a lot of similarities between my youngest and myself, but I'm betting you'll return the greeting. I'll introduce you to all of them when we’ve more free time, if you'd like. For now though, get some rest, John Sheppard.” He says.

“You too Todd. And um, Thanks. You know, for telling me there's someone in my ball field who you know..." He pauses and gestures vaguely. "Well you know, gets it.” He says, the pair of them standing up.

“Any time Sheppard.” Guide returns.

For the second time that day, Guide was shocked by arms wrapping firmly around him, before John headed back to the personnel quarters, Guide only briefly able to return the hug, as it had taken him a full second and a half to process what was happening. When he returns to his hive, his step is noticeably lighter. His family is gathered in the communal living area of the hive, just finishing each other's hair. And he was okay to at least let them brush his hair now, too.

And John smelled less like bile and a bit more like grass on the wind at the end of the summer.

Chapter Text

Todd had never been to Dr. Heightmeyer’s office before, and it certainly wasn’t what he had thought it would be, in his experience with Tau’ri doctors. He knew the work area for a doctor of the mind would be different than that of one for the body, as the office of a Doctor of Computer Sciences would be different from the office of a Doctor of Physics, but he had been expecting something a bit more clinical. Instead, it was tailored to comfort, with relaxing decor, and significantly lacking in the advanced technology most human doctors used in the scientific process of their work. He supposed that a lot of what went into understanding what was happening in the mind of another was communication. A feat easy with telepathy, but not for those without it, and the environment not being so clinical would aid that process.

He contacted her that morning to see if she had any openings, and she’d quickly gotten back with him that she had an opening at one. She had a patient she was taking at noon during lunch, but she could squeeze him in after that. He guessed that it was probably the case that lunch was the only opportunity some members of the expedition had available to speak with her during her work day. Similarly to how the medical staff often just ate half a sandwich between patients, saving the other half to eat before moving onto a third patient, and so on and so forth. Or scientific doctors forget meals as they absorb themselves into the problem they were trying to solve and subsist solely off coffee. Even Foresite, who in human culture, would likely be considered a Doctor of Civil Engineering, was guilty of this, and Mystify to a lesser degree. He may let it slip his mind, but generally realized he was starving when he put his work down, unlike Foresite, who needed reminders. He supposed, it had more to do with the personality type that excelled in these occupations than the title itself, and why it would be so similar in both their cultures.

He’d gotten there a bit early, and sat in a chair in her waiting room, still wearing civilian clothing to signify he was off duty today but had made sure to wear a long sleeve thermal shirt and pants under them today to avoid any unwanted gazes, and his hair was brushed neatly and tied back in a half up, half down style with one or two small beaded rope braids. He couldn’t sit still long enough for it to be fully braided yet, but he felt a bit better. He’d saved the beads in his pockets when he’d cut off his hair. They were a gift from Iceyes for every century they were together. He wouldn’t let Genii’s cruelty take them from him. No, he’d told the first commander that he’d swallowed them, and they had dissolved in his stomach acid by now, and had managed to keep them on his person the whole time, even as human generations passed. Comically, his stomach acid wasn't strong enough to dissolve obsidian, but the Genii didn't know enough about the wraith digestive system to call his bluff. It was one victory he’d had against them, and though it was a small one, it had been precious. Ember had strung the ones that wouldn’t fit on the few braids he could sit still for onto a string that he now wore around his neck as Shade and Bonewhite worked on his hair quickly, so he wouldn't have to endure it for too long, and he’d managed to straighten it out this morning with a comb so it would look nice longer.

He ran his fingers over the carved surfaces of the beads around his neck as he waited, zoned out and bored. He almost jumped in surprise when the door opened. Almost. He was glad he didn’t when he saw who stepped through. None other than Colonel John Sheppard. If anyone would need an appointment during lunch, it would be him though. He couldn’t say he was all that surprised. General O’Neil had said he had appointments with her. He did smell a touch like a particular black iris that grew on his hearth. It smelled of sadness and regret, though thankfully, it was not a funerary flower. Nevertheless, he was glad he'd had an appointment if he was down about something.

The human looked surprised to see him here too, but quickly removed that from his expression. He gestures to his hair. “Looks good!” He says, knowing how difficult it was for him. He didn't want to get too specific or emotionally deep. But the Wraith did deserve some recognition for this, he knew it was a big deal.

Todd inclines his head in thanks and says, “I'll have to show you what it looked like 200 years ago. Iceyes always took recordings of the family and myself before we deployed. When I introduce you to my son's I'll have to show you. It was truly a thing to be proud of then.” He says.

“Hair care must be pretty important in Wraith society. Most of the wraith I've seen seem to put a lot of time into their appearance.” John says.

“Yes.” Todd begins to explain. “It's a social part of our culture. It's something you do when you’ve time to sit still together. Oftentimes, it's done in hyperspace. Usually among family, but close friends will do each other's hair if you're not with family. It's not exactly spiritual for everyone, but you don't do the hair of someone you would have bad thoughts of while doing their hair, or someone who would think bad thoughts of you. It's a sign of respect, trust and love, and breaking that tradition is taboo. Some of us still see it as a spiritual connection to the iratus bug and the silk our clan was known for pre war. Some have lost that though. Some even shave theirs if their trying to distance themselves from or spirituality or are in mourning.”

“Huh. That's like some cultures on earth. But I get it to some degree, though I’m not as familiar with it as I would like to be. In my family’s background, I know it was important in at least the more southern area for women, and even have special tassels to tie their braids behind their back. I’m glad you were able to take part in that. I know that it’s rough for you. But sometimes just washing and combing your hair does wonders for your mood.” he says, patting him on the shoulder. Then pauses awkwardly. Like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say next.

He takes a deep breath before saying, “I should tell you I talked to Dr. Heightmeyer about what happened during my captivity when I first got back and a few times since. What I saw while we were there, well… It’s left me with ghosts too. I’m sorry if that overstepped your boundaries. I know what happened was well, very personal, but I didn’t think I’d ever see you again at that point. And I never thought you’d be talking with our resident psychiatrist.”

At first Todd was going to be pissed, then hurt, then embarrassed. But when he went on to explain, he understood. The man had vomited in his cell. He had been more irate than any who saw what happened, and the only one who'd seen to live. He’d wanted to stop it, and had been powerless. When someone finally wanted to fight for him, he'd been confined to chains. Helpless not to see or hear. It left him with scars in the mind too. Another situation where he was powerless to stop something horrifying from happening. John would have needed to reconcile everything too. It would have been traumatic for John in a different mind.

“Pay it no mind. I realize my face may have given other emotions away, but only a moment after you explained yourself, did I realize that it would have been difficult to process witnessing that, and it's not something you should have had to do on your own.” He assures him, before directing the conversation away from that, back to the previous topic so that they wouldn't have to linger on those thoughts. “We are more alike than we realize it seems, human and wraith. Thank you John Sheppard. I’m sorry you do not know as much of your history as you would like. It’s frustrating, and painful, knowing so much of it may never be recovered.” Todd says, feeling a warmth that the importance was understood as well as his difficulty with it, and the internal battle it created. And how much better he felt, even just with the few small braids. Maybe not every human would understand, but his brother did. It was almost a relief. “I’ll see you later, John Sheppard. Perhaps, tonight, you could join me on board my ship, and I’ll introduce you to some of my sons. They're not all here, but one day, you’ll perhaps have the chance to meet them all.”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you then. I gotta get back to work now, but I’ll see you later.” He says, smiling at the invitation, and asks, “Should I bring some liquor from earth? So you can make your brother taste it?”

Todd laughs out loud at this. “That would be most entertaining. Please, go right ahead, and if the one from Chicago is available, please, bring that one. I believe you called it Malört. But I’ll see you then. You have work to do, and I’ve an appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer to address some curiosities I have regarding how to interact with a particular thing I’ve observed in a way that’s appropriate to humans. One of my sons has what humans would call a mental health problem. I’m concerned of how he would behave if it were to be brought up, and am unsure of how humans and wraith may misunderstand each other here since it’s something personal, and delicate. So I just want to make sure he’s aware of the social norms surrounding it, were anyone to discover it.” he says.

“You know, I was wondering why you were here, but I didn’t want to ask.” John admits. He didn’t let it show that he found that very relatable, but a mildly acrid scent betrayed that fact.

“I am 12,001 years old, Sheppard. I had figured you had the curiosity of a roughly 2,200 year old wraith.” he chuckles, comparing him to what was still very a very young adult, as Dr. Heightmeyer opens the door to her office, having finished her charting during their brief conversation, to call him back as John chuckled to that, as if to say ‘Guilty as charged.’

“Todd? Are you ready to talk now?” She asks, smiling politely.

“Yes doctor. I’ll see you this evening John. And remember our little bet.” he says with an impish grin.

John snorts a laugh out at this. “Please tell me you have some way of recording this. I want to see the look on everyone’s faces once it’s all over.”

“Indeed I do John. I wouldn’t think not to record that. To prove I won the bet, of course.” he says, stepping in the office.

Before he was through the door, he heard John’s merry quip, “Whatever you say Todd.” before walking away from the office, most assuredly with a good natured grin on his face.

He shut the door to the office behind him, assured that his friend was well for now by the scent of a fluffy, whimsical candy associated with laughter and good humor.

Once the door was shut behind them, they each took a seat, though the one in Dr. Heightmeyer’s office was decidedly more comfortable than Dr. Beckett’s office. It was decorated in soothing blues with yellow floral curtains, there was a couch toward the back wall, and the windows were open, letting a soft breeze permeate the room, and the fresh scent of the ocean. It was designed to be relaxing and put her patients at ease, he supposed.

Neither of them was exactly sure to how to start, but after a moment Kate starts by bringing context from their conversation that morning. “Well, it’s nice to finally get to meet you Todd, though I wish the circumstances were different. You said you were worried about one of the expedition members you interact with regularly and need some direction with how to respectfully bring this up with this individual. Would you mind elaborating?” she asks.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’ve only heard people speak well of you. It’s an honor.” he says, inclining his head to the right and slightly down in respect before continuing. “You are aware that my kind’s use of spoken word is secondary, yes? Our primary language is telepathic.”

She nods her head to this, and he elaborates. “Our connections are closest to those we interact with the most, and the whole of the hivemind usually has some degree of awareness of what one of our brothers is thinking, with those closest getting the most detailed sense of what's taking place in their mind. When a wraith is having difficulties with the health of their mind, it’s usually not something they would be able to hide easily, though boundaries around the struggle are respected and only addressed by close friends and family. Secrets are harder for us to keep, though not impossible with enough control. But this is very different from humans. I wish to speak to this person. Offer my support. This individual has a habit that I’ve struggled with for some time.” he says, not sure what to say here.

“I actually had someone approach me regarding that. Dr. Beckett seemed pretty concerned about the severity of your habit. However, I don’t think he or I could order you to treatment, though he did want to find a way, should you need to visit him for treatment for a more severe injury.” She offers, figuring that would be difficult information for him to offer. He was glad he didn’t need to explain, and not all that shocked Dr. Beckett would conspire to get him treatment. He doted on everyone it seemed. He was glad he didn’t tell him his true reasoning. Something Kate had figured, based on her look and the soft scent of a grass associated with wisdom on his planet that that burnt sweetly. Sheppard often smelled that way. And he knew from the sensations his name was in the telepathic bond that it was a smell other wraith associated him with as well.

“I must confess, my motivation for visiting him wasn’t entirely selfish. I’ve been able to detect blood on someone when in close proximity with them more often than is normal. When this happens, it’s a lot easier for humans to hide it from each other. Just a bit of fabric over the cut and nobody's the wiser. I’m able to sense it though. It’s not a sense humans have, but it’s similar to smelling or tasting the chemicals on the air from the sensory pits in the face.” he says.

“So you’ve reason to believe this person you're concerned about is actively engaging in self harming behaviors?” she asks.

“Oh, I know this to be a fact. I didn't want to assume I was correct at first, but I can no longer deny it. It’s not been enough blood for me to worry this person is a serious danger to themselves or others though. There’s never enough blood to indicate anything serious. Just that it's repeated injuries to the same parts of the body.” he says.

“And this is John you're speaking of?” she asks. She knew he had a history with it, but he hadn’t told her that he’d recently relapsed on the habit. Knowing John though, that didn’t surprise her. He had reason to be secretive around this particular mental health struggle, due to how it could be handled. And he’d been depressed recently due to being grounded on earth for 6 months and their country’s strict military policies that were repressive to his happiness and personal life. She suspected that to be the reason, and the work that having Atlantis on earth caused bring up some proximity issues with his ex wife that made those issues worse. There were things he didn't want to discuss with her that she just didn't let drop sometimes, like how he was caring for himself. If he was well. Was he seeing anyone. Not things that seemed like issues on the surface. But if she tried to discuss them further at work, they could land him in hot water. It had been stressful for him, even if it was well intentioned.

“Perhaps. Though I believe I’d like to keep that to myself, in order to prevent the potential outcome of this being handled in any official capacity. Our alliance depends largely on the both of us, and my species is on the brink of destroying ourselves. This alliance is the best hope of preventing that. And I don’t believe that it will work were he or I unable to be at the helm navigating.” he says. “And we have our own ways of addressing and caring for each other when someone handles this. I’d like to handle this with him among my hearth planet, to be honest. Where nothing would make its way back to someone in an official capacity. And my home world, our original home world, has been making efforts to restore what we can of our culture pre Wraith-Lantian war. It wasn’t something heavily stigmatized then, though it was treated with concern still, it’s not something that was shamed, and it didn’t change how you were seen. There wasn’t a loss of credibility or respect. But there weren't any secrets either. This contention among our different clans and factions is very new. And alarming. So many lost elders, and leaders who are nothing but younglings raised by younglings. But the clan I come from, which inhabits our original home world, may be a safer place to address that.”

Todd had been thinking this for a while. Since talking to Jack, really, but he hadn’t brought this up to anyone yet. And Dr. Heightmeyer certainly seemed surprised by that. She needed a moment to evaluate the merits and drawbacks of the idea. She doesn't speak until she’s had a chance to fully think this over.

“So, if I’m understanding this right, you would like to address this with this friend of yours in an environment that would be safe, judgment free, and where his important position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and find out what you can do to help him get back to doing this less often?” She asks.

“That would be ideal, though I’m not sure it would be fully possible.” he admits.

“I’m not sure either. It seems fantastic in theory. However, he may become angry at the suggestion, and taking him there under a false pretense and then telling him your real reason may break his trust.” she says.

“I’d thought of that. I’m not even sure how to suggest such a thing. Or how to get his superiors to approve traveling to my hearth. But in my culture, he is family, and I would prefer to handle it as such. And I cannot do that here. After our exchange, I must return to the hearth and take personal leave.”

She frowns at this, but doesn’t pry. Then she leans forward, elbows on her desk, and says, “Then may I suggest talking to him here and suggesting it, with a support person for both you and him? Someone who would be able to say when either of you have had enough and be able to call for a breather on your behalf or explain and resolve any misunderstandings with regard to different communication styles with regard to our species’ cultures?” She asks.

“I would definitely want my brother there in that case. He’s assisted me with regard to my habit since we were young and we lost our youngest brother when the ancients attacked our hearth planet. The wraith home world. Our father was in lay, and it would have only been his second clutch, and we were outside to give him privacy unless he called for a Layman, which we were to retrieve if he needed, but you do not enter the home of a family member in lay unless it is your mate or their kin of their blood. Not blood of your kin though. It's a social taboo. He called for support and we had just gotten up to get a layman to help him since our Sire wasn't present when their ship’s guns hit our home from orbit. Our father and the younger brothers that would have been at least had a mercifully quick death, though haunting in it's own rights, but when the ancients started beaming down after a 10 month orbital siege, we fought them hand to hand. But this was only after they’d destroyed entire settlements, and we were reinforced in orbit. They had been as well, and then more and more reinforcement came to both sides. All we could do is take turns watching the sky, and hope that they would break through the blockade soon. My brother and I were protecting a group of civilians, and we'd all been hiding in the caves where there was a large iratus bug hive, hoping that the danger they posed to the ancients would keep us safe with a group of younglings. By that point about half of those who no longer could digest solid food had starved. They came planet side to search for survivors once they destroyed our homes and their ships were too heavily damaged to fight back. They were between a Wraith armada and a planet. There were many, many of us who ran to safety, hid the young, fed them during the siege, and fought back when they came to the surface, though by that point one in every 3 wraith had passed. It was difficult. And yet, we did managed to turn the tide, but their last wave was devastating. Several factions made of many clans had come to our aid at that point and our fleet's numbers assured our victory in the eyes of history. I suppose the ancients that came planet side knew that they had lost the battle, and were planning to take as many of us with them as they could, even setting their ships to crash on course with important cultural sites where some had gathered. The day went down as a historic victory, but it did not feel like it for those of us who lived through it. I still don't know if there's a word in wraith, or human language for what it felt like the day the fleet broke through.'' He pauses here and closes his eyes, remembering Starborn’s face as he had been. Not as he’d lost him.

“Starborn was a brilliant pilot. But on the ground he felt trapped. Underground in a cave, for 10 months was terrifying to him. We were starving. Young ourselves. Only 1,874. Only returning from our 2nd deployment. We were still at an age where we required some solid food as well as life force, but we were in better shape than those just 200 years older. Around the same age as my youngest child is now. And they found the cave. We couldn’t regenerate quickly at this point, and there were 7 of them to the two of us, both young and inexperienced, and trained in occupations other than foot soldiers. We knew how to fight yes. Our training saw to that. But we didn't have the thousands of years older generations had on us. Only 2 deployments and those were both apprenticing then. He and I were holding them off so the younglings could retreat deeper into the cave system to hide in passages the adult ancients couldn't fit into. We finished them off, but not before one of them stabbed Starborn in the side, and it punctured his lung. He died in my arms after we killed the last of them, 4 days later, when I'd been trying to use the gift of life to heal him, and I used the very blade that first time I inflicted that took his life. It turns out one of the hives that came into orbit was my Sire’s all the way from the front lines of Atlantis. When my mind lashed out like that, they located us, and were the ones to finally break through and bring food and supplies. He and my brothers had been looking for us, but hadn’t been able to locate any specific person as the planet’s hive mind was in chaos and they couldn’t pick our presence out of so many, but when they beamed me and Starborn on board, it had been too late by only hours, it had only been Bonewhite in the control room then who saw what I had done to myself. He knew better than to have me in the bridge at that point where commands were still being given and my Sire, fighting a war, knowing his youngest was dead, his mate, and the clutch in the nest, and having no time to mourn yet, so Bonewhite has been perhaps my support person for almost as long as we’ve been alive I'm only glad it was only him and myself there at the time.” he says.

Kate’s face softens at this. “It sounds like you two have been through a lot together and he would be very aware of your boundaries and know when you’ve had enough and need a breather. I think he would be a good choice. I'm sorry you went through that. I can understand why that would cause you to develop some unhealthy coping mechanisms. That must have been terrifying."

“It was, but this idea for a support person is a good one, and nobody would be able to read me like my brother. We have a mission scheduled off-world tomorrow. My brother, 21st son, and youngest in addition to myself, are set to join Colonel Sheppard's team for reconnaissance on a formerly ancient inhabited planet to see if there are any intact ZPMs that have survived. Some of the original wraith had been part of the human population before their transformation, when it still had human life, so we have interest in this planet as well. They left for another planet when the ancients left, but their technological artifacts have rudimentary biotech components. I’ll speak to my brother and Ronan later today, then we’ll speak to John after the mission. I wouldn't wish to have him upset during it, and out of sorts in potentially dangerous territory.” He says.

“Ronan? Are you sure that's the best choice, considering his past?” She asks. She knew he and the colonel were close but Ronan wasn’t the friendliest with Todd. He nods to this though.

“I have several reasons for choosing Ronan. First and foremost, is that they are both soldiers. Warriors. Human and Wraith warrior both have a sense of pride that seems to be part of an honor code in both our warrior cultures. Though we don’t yet fully understand the cultural intricacies yet to navigate that pride sensitivity. Second, is that Wraith military culture among my clan is strongly influenced by Sataden culture, so he would be able to see both sides. Third, is my Sire's father was Sataden before he was Wraith. My clan tried to stop their destruction. Unsuccessfully. But their culture propagated mine. If my brother and I explain this to him, and offer him proof if he comes with us to offer support, then maybe he’ll be more open to the idea of it. Of course I plan to tell him of the story of our home world too. How we didn't want to see that happen to the same world which propagated ours. I just, feel he deserves to know how our history influenced what happened to his people, and how there are those who mourn among us for the Satadians who were lost, and our interconnected history.” he says.

She gives pause at this information, taking in the merits of it. “I can see why this would be a good first choice, but if Ronan doesn’t agree to this, did you have any other choices in mind? It would be a good choice for Johns benefit, but Ronan may refuse to even hear you to know how important this should be.” She asks.

Before he even had a chance to think through his reasoning, he responded with, “Teyla.”

He didn’t need to explain this choice. Dr. Heightmeyer smiled at that. “That also would be a good choice. As far as further knowledge goes, what did you need to know before approaching this with him?”

“Well, I had hoped to learn how to approach this respectfully. When I struggled, my brothers waited for me to be done, and recently, some of my children have as well, and patched me up and just knew what I needed from our link. When it comes to talking to a human, their needs aren’t typically known to us through a link. And while it would be there because John is my brother, that would betray his trust unless he gave me the go ahead to communicate that way. So, how do I even start a conversation like this?” He asks.

“Well, first you need to let him know you need to have a serious conversation, and that it's private. But be sure to let him know there’s no reason to worry. Give him time to find a safe place to talk, and let him pick the place.” She advises. “After that, I'd be honest about what you know, how, and that your worried and that you would like to help. And if your comfortable with it, I would bring up your own past, so he can know that this isn't something that you would lose respect for him over. Then I would offer the solutions you've thought of, and allow him the opportunity to make suggestions of his own. And let him know that your making every effort to keep this off the record, and you want to do this somewhere safe for the sake of that because you understand he's a difficult position to get help in without some sort of ramifications, but you have to be firm that this does need to be addressed. He gets to call the shots unless he puts himself in danger, but you do have to make it clear that not dealing with it isn't an option. It needs to be addressed before someone on base decides to address it instead. Like you said, you both need to be at the helm of this alliance, and if he gets sent home, he may not be allowed to return.” She says. She knew this would destroy John. He may not survive it. And thousands of Wraith and millions of humans would die. Not unless they could find a way to end this war, and John and Todd's alliance may be the best chance.

Todd pauses to think about this and nodded his head before asking, “What kind of responses would be typical when addressing a topic like this?" He asks.

“Anger may be a first reaction to this. It's a secondary reaction to other emotions, so dealing with an angry reaction would also mean addressing what's happening under the anger. It could be fear, which is very normal in this situation. Or it could be hurt, embarrassment, guilt, or even a feeling of helplessness. Again, these are all very normal. These may lead to different ways of expressing anger, so it's important to pay attention to how the anger presents. If he's aggressive toward you and the other people present for the conversation, he's probably feeling some kind of hurt, if it's more of a defensive anger, it could be fear. If he tries to find a way out, he could be embarrassed. Self depreciation could be a sign of that too, or guilt. If he takes his anger out on something, it could be a feeling of fear as well, or even a feeling of helplessness. It would be important to remain calm, make him feel safe, and assure him that the things he’s feeling about this conversation are normal, and that what you talk about doesn’t leave this room.” she says.

“Fear, I understand. It’s something humans can easily hide and addressing it would create many unknowns. Embarrassment is not impossible for me to grasp. It's a stigmatized issue, so breaking it and being discovered may be a source of shame. Especially considering how it would be handled. I can see how that may make him feel guilty, again because of stigma. Responsibilities. In the moment of infliction, I could see helplessness. But in conversation, I don't understand. How could communication make someone feel helpless when it's meant to help?” He says, finding that troubling. Deeply troubling.

Kate senses his non understanding of this and asks, “What exactly about that is difficult to understand? Are there not times where you feel helpless in a social situation?”

“Well, when we know someone is trying to help, it wouldn't make us feel helpless. There are social situations where we do, but that's only when we sense malice toward ourselves, our clan, hive or allies and are in a position we're overpowered. It's all about sensing negative intentions with helplessness.” He explains.

“That's a little similar to why humans can feel helpless. But we can't sense another's intent when we talk to each other though. We can guess through body language, tone, word choice, emphasis, and past experiences. But in a vulnerable situation, it was on an evolutionary level, safest to assume someone may not have your best interest at heart. When confronted with the fact that something he's been keeping a secret was found out, he may feel unsafe because we can't sense the truth of the words of those trying to help us the way you can sense another Wraith’s intent.” She explains.

“Ah. I suppose that's natural in a species as aggressive as humanity can be.” He says.

“Are wraith not?” She asks.

“Not in the same ways.” He says. “We can be territorial about our feeding grounds and human planets in our territory. That's out of necessity. Culls are carefully planned so as to leave enough of a population to recover. Cullings aren't malicious. We take what we need only to live, and only that. Sometimes a hive will wipe out a planet you wish to protect because they advance too much. This can be heartbreaking for our elders, who can trace their roots to that planet. The preferred method to feed is consent though, and exchange. Though there aren't enough humans who would be willing, and I hope this will change. But when a rival culls in your territory that would be like… I don't even know how to even explain this in human terms.” He says, pausing to think and looking quite distressed by the idea, putting his hands on his cheeks and closing his eyes. It was upsetting to think about the times these things happened.

Dr. Heightmeyer offers him an example he heard from John and two other people on base from one of the countries people John’s mother's side of his family came from. “It's like another people governing your land, taking the herds you rely on for food and wiping them out, including those which your intrinsically connected to and have been since the beginning of your people for all time, saying that they know better and that this is to maintain the ecosystem of the Pegasus Galaxy, and not leaving enough for you to sustain yourself and kin, and wiping out your history while their at it, then try to paint your well placed outrage as clinging to the past, and reverence for your roots as regressive or primitive, and imply that you truly don't understand the space you live in when you've been there for thousands and thousands of years sustaining yourself and them encroaching on your territory without understanding the intricacies of it's planetary systems is what caused things to slip out of balance to begin with.”

He smiles at this. She'd hit the nail on the head. “Exactly. Though personal aggression is less common than it is between hives having territory disputes. Those who have inappropriate compulsions aren't welcome on a hive, and without the protection our hives offer, we don't typically last long. We need community. But there were things I saw on television on Earth that we stop before it causes problems in our society. Those who enjoy causing another wraith to suffer, or have certain deviant inclinations, they're usually detected long before anything happens like what I saw on the news on your home world. We don’t have serial murders. Our younglings don't murder their peers when at educational facilities. Violation as the Genii did to me is next to unheard of. Those who would do those sorts of things are usually detected well before it gets to the point where they act. We make an effort to reach some of these, depending on how disturbing their thoughts are, and banish those beyond help or who would harm younglings or behave as the Genii did to me. Humans are more able to hide these thoughts and intentions, so there are more of them hiding in your society. Like Koyla, for example. He was a sadist, deviant, and would have had no problem spilling the blood of kin hive, what you would call family, and I suspect young either for personal gain.”

She takes pause at this, not having thought to consider the benefits telepathy may have to the safety of people in a society. But it made sense. Yes, civil war may exist. There may be conflicts between clans. But over all, their violent crime rates could very likely be lower due to prevention. She thinks carefully before saying, “That sounds like, generally speaking, your society would be safer. But it’s not that individuals who would do these things don’t exist. They're just not welcome among your people. But personal aggression does exist. It’s just dealt with sooner, and never allowed to get to a point where someone would pose a danger to another wraith.”

“I suppose that you're correct there. But letting aggression get out of control like that is something I cannot even begin to fathom. Living amongst people who can hide their true colors until one day, they do something you’d never imagined them doing must be exhausting. Trust must be hard to come by.” He says, wiping his eyes with his hands at just the thought of how tiring that would be.

“It can be.” She concedes. “But we tend to have bonds with people who have proved themselves trustworthy, and have taken care of us, while avoiding people that behave or speak in ways that alarm us. We probably navigate with caution in a different way than you, but it’s not consuming, though our baser instincts may make themselves known when we think we’re in danger. That’s why the conversation you're planning may prove to be difficult.”

“And I’m sure what I am would do nothing to ease that.” He says humorously. Not that he hated being wraith. He hated that because of their history and their dependance on humans as their food source made it hard to find trust for one another. On some level, John had to see him as a threat. He couldn’t sense his intention, and the fact still remained that Todd had fed off him, which had to have been terrifying, despite how brave John had been in that moment.

“You might be surprised. Of course, I can’t tell you anything John and I have spoke of. Doctor patient confidentiality is a thing. So I don’t need to tell you that our files are confidential.” She says, placing John’s file on her desk. “But if you’ll excuse me for just a moment. I need to use the facilities.” she says before getting up and leaving her office.

At first, Todd was bewildered. Then, he realized that he was alone, with John’s file. And it was intentionally left with him while he was alone in the room. He steps around the desk and opens it, looking at the top page there. And while Dr. Heightmeyer couldn’t ethically tell him this, it was important enough for him to know that she was acting in a way that was ethically dubious. This was something she felt was imperative for him to know, and he starts by looking at the notes from the top.

They were hand written notes of what John had told her during his session that day. About him. He was shocked to read, “Hell, I trust him. More than I should probably. To the point I may be compromised. But the fact is, he literally held my life in his hands. Have Ronan, Teyla and Rodney saved my life? Dr. Beckett? Mr. Woolsey? Dr. Weir? Yes, that had been her final act. But the fact is, he had the power to end my life. They saved mine, but he had it in his hands. Literally. He could have taken his fill. And he stopped himself. Not just once either. Twice. The first time was in the bunker. The second time outside, just before we were rescued, despite everything he went through for such a long, long time. After losing a spouse too.

“And despite having the chance to save his own skin if he finished me off, he chose to save me instead. Hell, had it been me, I’d never be able to look anyone who saw what happened in the face… And since that moment, I’ve been able to feel that, in spite of how he may not always be forthcoming, he’s never intended us harm. I don’t want to push too much and see what would happen if I tried to pull at these… feelings? Sensations? I'm not sure if that would be overstepping a boundary. But I truly believe him when he says he thinks of me as a brother. Family. I feel the same way.

“And we've done enough to them. I see that now. They were in a precarious situation before I woke them all at once. This is all my fault. But he still calls me his brother, and I can tell he’s not lying to me. I trust him. But I don’t know if I could be called trustworthy. I don’t deserve to be called his brother. Hell, I don’t deserve a command position. Some of the worst problems we’ve faced on this expedition, they all come back to one decision I made. To pull the trigger when I could have retreated.

“But there’s some kind of connection there, and for the past few days, I’ve been feeling it more acutely? Or in a more focused way? I really don’t know how to explain it. It’s been more of a prickling in my mind? Like there’s something he’s aware of, and is paying attention to, but he’s waiting for something? I don’t know. But he doesn’t want to cause me or the expedition harm. I just don’t know what it could be.”

So Sheppard did feel their bond! He just didn’t want to push him to explore it out of respect in a gesture that was very human. And misguided. Still endeering though. But perhaps some gentle projection through it wouldn’t be out of line in this conversation! And perhaps, one day, they could connect as true hive kin! With practice, he could even connect to his hivemind if he wanted to, through him in close proximity. But that would take time. He would need to get used to the idea of having someone in his head. Get over the private hang ups and embarrassments humans so often suffered for things that were honestly completely normal.

He had much to discuss with Bonewhite after this, but in light of what he’d learned, he would rather have him involved with his conversation with Ronan as well, and everything he could have learned talking to him alone, he could still learn with his clutch brother present. Perhaps even more. Dex could be frustrating at the best of times, and could really set him off at the worst. Having him stunned several times when discussing the attack on the replicator homeworld may have been satisfying, though it was petty. Someone more level headed than the both of them would probably be beneficial to the conversation, and in the long run to Sheppard.

When he hears her footsteps, he closes the file and goes back to his seat before the door opens. “I’m sorry for leaving you for a moment. Can I get you some water or anything while I’m up?” She asks.

“No thank you. But you’ve no need of apologies, Doctor. It’s given me time to reflect on what you’ve told me, and I found the information I’ve learned from our conversation most enlightening.” he says. He wasn’t talking about that of course, he was referring to the file, and his face clearly said what his words did not.

Her face returns his smile of understanding and she nods her head. “Good. I’m glad some alone time to process everything helped. Were there any other ways I could help you?” She asks.

He nods his head. He figured that talking a bit longer would help her avoid suspicion. Not that there would be any reason to suspect anything. But keeping the appearance of a regular appointment would be desirable in human culture. There was probably a need to keep things appearing as routine as possible. So it occurs to him that maybe he should also talk to her about Ember. There were things that weighed heavily on his mind sometimes regarding it, and so far, Dr. Heightmeyer had shown herself to be very insightful. Perhaps she would view his worries in a way another wraith couldn't.

“Well, I'm not entirely inexperienced with regard to addressing parts of this issue with another, though I'm not sure it would be appropriate to interact in the same dynamic.”

“I heard you tell Colonel Sheppard that one of your sons has a mental health problem?” She asks.

“Yes. The same as him and myself, and due to a loss of a similar nature to what we both lost as well, though he was young and it had been what you call ‘puppy love’ not a serious relationship between adults. Maybe the odd feeding hand against the cheek or the other's feeding hand when we weren't looking and awkwardly staring at each other when they didn't think the other was looking. Denying that they were looking at the other's rear and blushing terribly when their friends or older brothers called them out. This happened before he lost his Sire though. About 500 years ago. So he’s probably the most understanding of my loss out of all my family, other than my sire.” He says. “I've treated Ember similar to how Shockwave treated me. Though I suspect that even though we have a significant age difference, it would be more appropriate to treat him at the age he would be developmentally equivalent, despite the urge to react like a parent or older brother?” He asks.

“Probably. It would likely be seen as demeaning to do otherwise, though I could understand your compulsion given our comparatively short lifespans and familial feelings for him. But your son, your feelings about his habit are different from John’s?” she asks.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts at this. “Yes. I can’t help but feeling I’m somehow responsible. It’s something I’ve struggled with since before his life began, and it’s not entirely possible to shield children from everything.” he says.

“That’s true for humans too. Even if we aren’t able to perceive another’s thoughts, they always find out from somewhere. I can’t imagine it would be much different in Wraith. It's not something that would be your fault. A number of things contribute to someone developing mental health conditions. Genetics may play a role in it, and seeing it used as a coping mechanism makes it more likely to be something a child may think of, but the biggest factor at play is the way trauma effects brain chemistry, and you had nothing to do with the chemicals that poured into his brain at the moment of trauma. It's likely that your understanding of his problem may have helped more than hurt though.” She says.

“How so?” He asks.

“Well, studies back on earth have shown when a parent response to a child having a mental health problem is empathy and understanding they have better outcomes, and I can't imagine you wouldn't meet a child struggling the way you did with anything but compassion. Parents who put a lot of pressure on their children, or get angry or frustrated because their child is struggling tend to have a worse mental health outlook in the long run. Even if they recover from the original condition, they may end up with parental trauma that leads to more struggles in the future or the development of other conditions.” she explains.

“It would be quite difficult for a wraith to get upset with their child for that. Not when we can look into their mind and understand why they struggle. But I can imagine a hostile response would only make things worse in the long run. I'd never thought of that. Such a reaction wouldn't cross my mind. It's not ill-behavior or reckless. It's something they can't help. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for a human youngling in that situation. It's heartbreaking to think about. But knowing how different that outcome may have been if I hadn't been able to know his mind changes how I view this whole situation. His habit is nowhere near as bad as mine became, though I suppose I have more time to think about my trauma. I may have sheltered him a bit after that fact too.”

“That's only natural. You wouldn't want anything more to cause him further harm. But your not to blame for this. I suspect this is something you've been told before, but maybe wanted to hear some perspective you hadn't thought of?” She asks.

He could only nod to this. “Wraith culture is very polarized with this topic. Some of us, like my clan, want to recover as many of the old ways we had before the Lantian-Wraith war. More compassionate ways. Other factions, for reasons I cannot agree with, think that forgetting these ways and moving forward, reinventing ourselves as overlords would be better for us, though it doesn't foster a sound mind, and these wraith lack the wisdom passed down by our eldest generations. They see this as something that's a sign of weakness, and wouldn't be treated well in hives like that. There are very few wraith of my age and older who survive. And they do not know what it is to have someone who has known peace leading them. And I have to think of his safety in a changing social climate while trying to maintain that treating him with compassion. I don't know how to prepare him for facing this in the universe as it is today.”

“I can imagine that must make it tough to make parenting decisions. You’d have a lot to consider with so many changes to your society when making choices for his future.” She says. “If you ever need to talk with someone before making a decision, just let me know. I can make an appointment for you, or even your son if you would like.” he says.

“Thank you. I’ll discuss this with him. He’s old enough to make decisions with regard to this on his own now, to some degree, but young enough to need a lot of guidance still. But I’ll probably be in to visit from time to time. I can imagine there’s much I’ll need to learn to navigate regarding human culture in the course of this alliance. And sort through my feelings on the differences.” he says.

“It’s no problem at all Todd. And if you ever want to talk about things not related to our alliance, your more than welcome to.” She says as their hour draws to a close.

“Thank you Dr. Heightmeyer. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to discuss those things. Right now, there’s much to address before I can take the time aside to start working through roughly the past two hundred years, but I have every intention to find a way to start processing that once everything is set to rights and I’ve taken care of some family business on the hearth planet, and I welcome your help. As I stated, my kind would have no idea how to address some of what happened. It never would have reached the point it did, were my captivity among my fellow wraith. And your perspective is as enlightening as it is refreshing.” he says as they both stand and make their way to the door.

She squeezes him on the shoulder at that. “Just let me know when you're ready, and you set the pace okay. And feel free to contact me if you or anyone you know are in crisis. I know you have your own support systems, but if it ever becomes too serious to deal with alone, I’ll help any way I can.”

“Thank you Doctor. I’ll be in touch. You have a fine day.” he says as he leaves to go seek out Bonewhite’s company. He had much to fill his brother in on, and a mission they had yet to prepare for. There were supplies to pack, MELP telemetry to analyze, planetary data, and intelligence to go over.

Of course he also had to speak with him with regard to his change in plans regarding his desire to have him present for one final conversation regarding the talk they needed to have with John. But that would wait until they were in private, away from his children. This needed to be kept between John, Todd, and someone to support each of them as they talked. It would be a violation of John’s privacy, so he just put it out of mind around them. Should they spend enough time with him and put the pieces together, that would be different, and he had little doubt that if it was a chronic issue, which he suspected given the frequency he perceived blood, he had little doubt they’d put the pieces together. Or if there was an emergency and he needed help, and needed the nearest person to assist.

But he was getting ahead of himself, and set off in the direction of his hive, mentally reaching out to Bonewhite, and following the pull of his mind toward the pier and onboard the Just Fortune, to their quarters. He was in his nesting room, meditating with his eyes closed, still dressed for sleep, and had been taking some well deserved time to himself.

When Todd enters the room, Bonewhite opens his eyes and inclines his head to a cushion for him to sit, and he does. They didn’t need to say a word. His brother knew. And he wouldn't be putting it off until later as Todd had planned.

It was time for them to talk.

Chapter Text

Guide sat down on the cushion next to his brother’s, taking in the soothing incense he had burning and allowing the soft candlelight to relax him. It wasn’t that he was dreading the conversation to come, but it still made him nervous, and Bonewhite pushed assurance through their link. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to this talk, but it wasn’t something he wanted to avoid either. It was just a heavy one, and they both knew this.

Guide wasn't sure how to start, so Bonewhite wraps their shield around them, deciding on spoken word so this could be more private. “So, you decided to change your plans after talking to Dr. Heightmeyer?” He asks and offers him some of the herbal tea he liked. It was a relaxing blend, with mild psychoactive properties they often used in meditation, but unlike most brews, it was safe for him right now. It was a consideration he appreciated. Guide inclines his head in thanks and takes the small cup, taking the sip and setting the cup down face up. Bonewhite refills it, waiting on his answer, before Guide pours Bonewhite a cup.

“Yes. She said that it may be of benefit to both John and myself to each have a safe person present when we have this conversation. Him and Ronan are close. I think he or Teyla would be best, but I believe Ronan could perhaps find some closure for his people speaking to our Grandsire and even Burningheart, and we should offer to take them both to our hearth. For John, because handling this in an official capacity could cost him his position. Even cause him to lose his career entirely. I suspect if he were forced to leave Atlantis, he would choose to take his last sleep. Having Ronan there would offer him a sense of security and familiarity. Ronan may find closure too. And overcome some of his biases.” When he finishes he drinks his tea and Bonewhite does the same. Then they each pour each other another cup.

“Dex? You must really be worried.” He says and looks slightly off put. He didn't care much for the way the Sataden talked about their people. Not that Guide, or any other wraith did. “Or really love Sheppard.” He adds as an afterthought, just to rib at him a bit, but stops short when his elder brother's cheeks turn a darker shade of green. He was surprised Bonewhite would say something so bold.

“Humans do not understand that a brother is everyone. When he thinks of brother, he thinks of a clutch brother. It would never be something he could reciprocate. I will be happy just to see him well. Kin brother, clan brother, hive brother, intimate brother, older brother, elder brother, or clutch brother, those complexities are lost.” He says, voice oddly hollow. “It would be best if I just let those feelings pass with time.”

Bonewhite didn't find himself surprised by Guide’s round about admission. He thinks about how to respond to this while pouring more tea for him, then Guide does the same as he still thinks about it. “Perhaps, now is not the best time. But, I would not rule it out entirely. He will come to see us differently if he agrees to come to our planet. Perhaps, understand our social structures. Realize that everyone is a brother to you, who’s mind you connect with. Your father, sire, mate, sons, neighbors, all brothers who share of your mind in different ways, but stand beside you in shared experience and feelings. But you have a family matter to attend to, and he may not be in the best frame of mind to consider these things until he’s had time to heal. And because of this matter you must see to, you have other priorities than pursuing a relationship. And you have yet to grieve. Wait until you're both more emotionally sound, and if it's still there, think of it then.” he muses, sipping his tea. He himself had human lovers, millenia ago, and it wasn't at all strange to them. But a trauma bond wouldn't be where they should start a relationship.

“Perhaps. But it's not something either of us can consider right now. So it's best to focus on the matter at hand.” He says and drinks his tea. Bonewhite pours more hot water into the pot after changing the leaves for fresh ones. Guide looks in the pot where used steeps were discarded and raised a brow ridge. That explained his boldness. He chuckles and turns his brother's cup over. “Perhaps you should allow me to catch up, then have another pot together when we finish this conversation.”

Bonewhite laughs at this. He had a hard time with serious conversations sometimes and this tea helped him relax, but perhaps Guide was right. More than a pot and a half may be too much. He needed to be candid, but lucid. He inclines his head in agreement though and pours off the first steep. It would be slightly more toxic than was good for his brother’s body right now to process, and it was bitter in taste anyway. Back on the hearth, it was offered to the plants they grew to make the tea, but there were none on board ship with them, so it’s poured into a ceramic pot for later. Then he pours some more for Guide and goes back to their talk.

“And if he needs medical treatment on our hearth you know how to administer it?” He asks. Bonewhite agreed that this would be a good way to keep this off the record, but wanted to make sure they were prepared for how to treat an injury in a human before diving into one of his brother's plans. As much as Guide was a wise leader when looking for new paths, he sometimes needed to slow down a little and gather more information. Bonewhite helped steer him away from rushing headlong into trouble, and sometimes, that was successful.

“Yes. I received some very extensive first aid training from Dr. Beckett. Everything from stopping bleeding, cleaning an injury, closing a wound, preventing infection, and different kinds of wound dressings and scar treatments too. I could even sew one closed if need be.” He says.

Bonewhite makes a thoughtful noise at this. “I often wished that I had the ability to close some of your worst injuries more effectively. It's something I wish I knew how to do. And had the supplies for. I’m not aware of that technique being used often by wraith. Maybe in hive alterations, but I don't think I've ever heard of life saving surgery.”

“I'm sure Carson can teach you.” He says. “Or one of our laymen. They've had to sometimes remove a clutch from an egg bound father surgically. They would also be one of the few occupations to know how to give stitches. Otherwise there's not much use for us to have this knowledge outside of infliction, and with it not being all that common, I'm sure Laymen rarely see it. I’m sure it’s just not something we’ve thought to apply the skill to since Laymen are some of the few people who even know of it. It would be hard for you to find someone to teach you, but we’ll manage.” Guide says.

“I should have figured laymen would know a thing like that. It's physically when a Wraith has the hardest time healing since so much energy is used in lay and dissolving the protective shells that protect them inside the body. But I don't know the specifics of what they do. I’d never think to ask one.” Bonewhite says as he watches Guide drink and pours him another cup.

“You've no reason to be familiar with their work. You’ve no ability to carry a clutch, you've no mate, nor have you desired to take a lover among a wraith, nor do you wish for children of your own until we can be assured peace. You wouldn't know of their skill set, but if you would like to learn that particular skill we could arrange for you to spend some time with my 9th, Flame Keeper.” He says.

He never delivered an egg cold. Even Ember had made it to hatching, and though he couldn't be there for delivery because he was blood, it had been appropriate to call him for an unexpected egg post delivery.

Ember was named because though his lifeforce hadn't been bright, it burned steady and strong. He had been lain outside the nest when he'd gone to rest when everyone believed his clutch fully laid, and found it beside him when he woke up, and he’d have woken were he not in such a warm bed. Had he been cooler the pain of lay would have built since the temperature caused it to stop in its progression where it was, though it was not as warm as a nest for a clutch should be where he rested, and the shell had become dryer than was safe.

And though his egg required constant maintenance, he'd hatched strong and healthy. Like a fire built back up from embers, burning strong and steady in the rain as opposed to one built of superficially flashy flames that burnt quickly then blew out in the wind.

“I'll speak to him. And I'll be sure to have you show me what you learned later in case you ever need help. If he comes to our planet that is. That's a big if though.'' He pours more tea for him now and Guide nods his head to this, taking a sip as Bonewhite continues. “How do we even get them to authorize that, if we can convince him that this is the best course of action?”

“We could propose a personnel exchange. Have John and Ronan in on this in advance. Volunteer for this.” He says, putting his cup down for the final steep of tea. Each pot made 5 tiny little cups like these, though they didn’t consume the first, and once Bonewhite pours it, he takes the sip right away, and puts the cup down upside down, putting the leaves in the designated pot.

“Leave it to you to come up with something clever like that.” He says. “Who do you propose stays here?” He asks, pushing a stray, pin straight lock behind his ear.

“Well, if we’re having their military commander and his guard dog come along, it should be people that would be dear enough to us that they’d be assured we would bring no harm to their people. And ones who we know would benefit our people with their presence, and the New Lantians. I believe Shade and Burning Heart would be the best choices due to their political positions, and their personalities. They’d be very agreeable to humans. I believe they’d ask me to stay, but I’ll tell Ronan or John to object to this, saying they’d be more comfortable traveling with the wraith they know. I’m not sure I want to fill them in on my need to return home, exactly, but if need be, I suppose it’s best I’m honest with the senior staff and command team as to why I cannot stay.”

Bonewhite nods. “You’ve put this off far longer than is healthy. If it comes to that, it comes to that. There’s no getting around it’s importance and it would be easy enough for them to verify.” He starts gathering some other things for them to enjoy, keeping the talk relaxed. Sure they couldn’t sustain themselves with solid food, but Bonewhite had some things that were nostalgic for them from when they still needed it, and these food items brought them back to a time when the world felt so much simpler, and so much safer.

Guide reaches for a dumpling made from a slightly tangy meal, stuffed with savory vegetables and herbs that was steamed before it was fried for a golden outside. It was one of his favorites. He was enjoying it and slightly relaxed when his brother said, “It would be best if you started partaking of food for comfort for the next while, and wait to drink until your family business has been taken care of. It will do no harm, sure, but you often become restless when you do.”

He nearly chokes at this and shoots him a glare. It didn’t hold any weight, because he truly did appreciate the consideration and concern he had for him. Often thinking that Bonewhite acted more like the older brother between the two of them, though it had always been that way. Guide may have been protective of all his little brothers, but Bonewhite had been a bratty know it all as a child with a bossy complex, and they had butted heads until losing Starborn, when Guide had needed someone who could offer support and wisdom. When he’d lost so much confidence due to the run of luck he’d been having. Losing Starborn, the youngest of those he’d been protecting his whole life, it broke something inside him.

“How do we convince John that this would be for the best? That may be difficult.” Bonewhite asks, not even acknowledging the look, directing the annoyed wraith back to the matter at hand. Sometimes, his brother found the doting to be slightly embarrassing. Even though it was comforting in its own right, assuring him that it was okay to let his guard down and let others take care of him too sometimes, and more importantly, that there were times when he should.

“I think we should be honest. That we’re aware of how badly this could go for him if it had to be treated by the New Lantians and Earth military. That he’s family to me, and by extension, you as well, and that it would be better to handle this with family, in a place nobody can report it. That the safest place to address this is away from Earth, away from Atlantis, and away from a society that would judge him because of his anguish and relational preferences. Earth seems to have some very unusual social reactions to who people take as a mate. The female sex is crucial to their reproduction, as you know, but on earth, some people react very poorly to a relationship that can’t produce children. John lost a mate. Very similarly to how I lost Iceyes in fact. But being both males, they couldn’t reproduce. And his military doesn’t allow discussion of these relationships. When he died, he was punished for their love. That was undoubtedly something that contributed to his habit. General O’Neil confirmed this. And he needs to be in a place where openness to his relations with both sexes wouldn’t be something he couldn’t address. You need to communicate about your troubles to work through them, and here, he can’t.”

“Then both of you still need space for grief. You've been active in our military operations since you escaped with Sheppard without any time to process your loss, or what happened to you there. And I'm truly glad that so far, you've not inflicted since returning to us, but I still worry that you aren't dealing with the things you need to. Not just physically, but mentally. I'm concerned that you've been using the recent upheaval as an escapism.” Bonewhite says.

“I can understand your concern, but I'm not replacing one bad way of dealing with things with another. I returned without my sons’ other parent. I chose to stop for them, so they don’t worry about losing another. And because of your relief when you took me to be checked over by our chief of biological sciences. Later, it became for the hive as well, then finally for my own sake. Iceyes always said I should stop out of love for myself, so I guess, it's for him too. With all that's been happening though, I've been unable to put work aside for the sake and security of my family. Perhaps I should have returned home right away, but the replicators were too big a threat. And after they were neutralized, too many new threats emerged. The Hoffan plague and Michael. The mutiny. The attero device. Solidifying this new alliance first gives me the chance to finally see to the other things I need to safely. I've been waiting for a breather too.”

“That sounds reasonable. I can agree with it, but I'm glad we're going back once we wrap up our business here. Now the matter remains of how to convince Ronan to hear us out.” Bonewhite says, munching on a slice of fresh fruit as he thought of how to best solve this particular part of their plan that was a puzzling challenge.

Guide reaches for a piece too and hums in thought. It was something he hadn't thought about yet. And it's not like they could stun him and make him listen. And forcing him would only raise tensions before they even started to talk. But then, looking at the walls, he has an idea, and stands up, finishing the last of his piece of fruit as Bonewhite starts on a dumpling.

He takes a picture off the wall. One from when they were younger. Far, far younger actually. “Our Grandsire. Coldwind. He took the name from his war nickname, yes? His name and likeness, before he walked through the ancestral ring never to return, was known on Sateda until its fall, yes? Then we show him something that will surprise him enough to ask questions. Make him talk to us. And he had their military tattoo tattooed over his eye and down his cheek on transformation. He’d likely recognize his likeness still. It may be enough to make him stop talking long enough to hear us out.” He says, handing him the captured moment. It was a photograph in a sense, but not like human photography. It was a captured digital image displayed on a sheet of biological hiveskin that’s cells reflected the programmed image using chromatophores. It was of Bonewhite and himself with the older wraith when they were smaller, and the two young ones were clearly sore with each other, with Guide being held up in his Grandsire’s hands by the waist away from Bonewhite with half his hair in rope braids and the other side in a messy pigtail, and Bonewhite with a sour expression, pin straight hair curtaining his face and glaring at his brother, who was smirking mischievously. They only looked about 3 here.

“Stunning him into silence tends to be the best way of dealing with him.” Bonewhite says, and Guide can't help but grin at this and bark out a laugh. The double meaning was clear. Though his brother’s sense of humor wasn't as often called upon as his own, it was similarly morbid.

“You are correct there. What were we fighting over this particular day?” He asks, folding the hiveskin and putting it in his pocket.

“You ate the frog I was keeping as a pet while your hair was being rebraided.” Bonewhite says petulantly.

“That was then?” He chuckles. “It was delicious though. And I was hungry sitting still for so long.”

Bonewhite rolls his eyes to that. “Enough of that. What else did you find out that's relevant to the situation with Sheppard?”

“Well, I learned that a normal first reaction to humans in this sort of conversation may be anger. Their head blind so they don't know what someone's intent may be when they're confronted with a vulnerability, so it's important that we address the primary emotion behind the anger and do everything we can to help him feel safe. Let him pick the spot if we can. Somewhere he’d feel in control. And I should also be very clear with him that there's no judgment from me. I come from a place of empathy.” He explains.

“So you plan to tell him about your own struggle from the get go?” He asks, surprised by his stated intention.

Guide nods his head here. “I do. I know I'm not normally so open to discussion around this, but he needs to understand that he will not be judged because of this. That I want to help because I understand the pain that he is feeling. Our reasons are similar, our positions put a similar pressure on us, and I know how difficult that makes it to ask for help.”

“There is wisdom in that. Are you well with all that's going on and that you've learned?” He asks, serving each of them another dumpling. He knew it probably was causing him to have a lot of feelings of his own, and probably not all good. It was a hard issue even just between the two of them.

“I'm okay for now. A lot of the reasons humans do this are the same though. So some of the things that lead to me being unwell in that way are likely the same for John.” He says, quickly diverting the conversation back to John, though this did not escape his notice.

Bonewhite looks like he appreciates the information regarding that, but continues to allow his brother to speak, looking at him expectantly. Just because he was not unwell in that way did not mean that he was well, and he knew his brother was trying to avoid elaborating more, so there was much on his mind, though he wasn’t feeling the need to inflict. Bonewhite knew better than to allow that to fester when this particular behavior was the topic of conversation, or he may become unwell in this way later, and he had no desire to allow this to get to the point where he may relapse if left alone with his thoughts when he was doing so well in refraining from what had been a chronic behavior for thousands of years.

Guide sees Bonewhite’s look and lets out a displeased noise, realizing he would have to talk about the things that were bothering him. Well fine, he could do that, but he wouldn’t make it easy for him, and picks up his dumpling instead, pretending he hadn’t noticed the look directed his way, and starts eating it, taking his time to chew, and serves them each another dumpling, though his brother hadn’t started his yet. It was incredibly rude, but Bonewhite knew exactly what he was doing and ignored it, letting his brother behave like a petulant child for as long as he wanted. They’d run out of snacks eventually, and Guide would only continue to show him just how not okay he actually was. He would certainly allow self incrimination from him.

When he finishes the second dumpling he notices that there were no more, so he looks over at Bonewhite’s plate and looks like he’s about to say something. Bonewhite’s look says, ‘I dare you.’ Guide, of course, rises to the challenge and asks, “Did you intend to eat those or…?'' Before he finished, Bonewhite pushed his plate over, knowing the next words out of his mouth would be an excuse about needing limited amounts of solid food at this point. It was similar to the look he gave him when he ate his pet frog though.

Once he finishes those, he reaches for the fruit slices. Now Bonewhite was a bit more worried. But other than the fruit, they’d no snacks left, but if Guide ate everything to avoid a conversation, or at least delay it, something was definitely bothering him that he wanted to delay talking about. Or, he truly was hungering for solid foods, meaning they had to start heading home within the next week to make it in time. And as much as he found his avoidant behavior inconsiderate, he’d prefer that to the alternative.

Eventually, Guide had finished everything on the plates, and Bonewhite realized that he was having some really serious feelings about this when he looked around for some other way to occupy his time. At least it wasn't the latter reason though, and he let himself be annoyed over relieved.

Bonewhite just gives him a look that says to start talking. Guide snarls at him, but finally acquiesced and takes a deep breath. “I’m scared of what may happen to John. That he may end up being the cause of his own demise, whether that’s intentional or not. I’m scared I won’t be able to handle that. I’ve lost so much family already. I’m terrified that if something happens to him, that this alliance will not survive that. I’m scared that we may end up destroying ourselves without our paths being connected. That I’ll outlive my children. Of being alone again. Of starving again. I don’t just feel that this is the correct path, with the New Lantians. I can see it. Where John is lost though, these variations are worse than ours.” When he was done he snarled at him, letting an irritated rumble sustain itself passively after his expletive noise, but Bonewhite realized his wide eyes and quick breathing.

“We will not allow it to come to that. You will not.” Bonewhite says, getting up off his cushion and stepping around the table and wrapping his arms around him. Guide had always been a bit more emotionally inclined than most wraith, and more expressive by far since he had returned to his captivity. But deep pressure grounded him.

“There were times I feared that of you. That you would, either accidentally or intentionally, enter your last rest because of your habit. That I’d wake up one day, and you’d have gone in the night. Or I’d wake from hibernation, and you simply would have programmed it to wake you a hive beat or so after the rest of us slept, and be gone when we woke up. I was scared that without you here, helping find new paths for our brothers, going ahead to find new safe ways, we would only walk further down the path that leads to our doom. I was scared I would have to tell the brother’s of my brother’s clutches, my nephews, that they only had me now, and their Grandfather and Grandsires. Of having to tell them news that would break their hearts. Earlier, I’d been scared to tell your mate that we’d gotten to you too late. That we let you die. And as much as you're petty and childishly avoiding acknowledging these feelings and talking about them, it’s important that you realize these things are a very real danger, and make plans to avoid that at all costs.” Bonewhite says, not letting Guide go. He could feel the anxiety and fear just rolling off of him in waves, causing his mental shields to open, and starts making a rumbling sound in his throat. One that would soothe him when he was patching him up, or when he was near to infliction and he’d been reached before causing harm to his person. Something humans would call a pur. He knew his fear well, and he and their other clutch brothers often comforted each other this way, shielding their worries from Guide so he didn’t feel guilty for his habit.

But now he knew Bonewhite’s fear as his own, and lets that brush his mind with assurances that this would get easier. And Guide brushed his with apology. He hadn’t meant to worry him. Bonewhite feels overwhelmed by sickly, purple regret, having caused him to feel this way, and Bonewhite squeezes his shoulders, like he had known something like this would be coming and knew how to deal with it. It had never been quite like this between him and Guide, but he’d often felt like this when he got to him before he hurt himself. And he had comforted their other clutch brothers through their fears too.

He brushed his mind with a glowing, comforting blue that was deeply soothing, and assurance that his apology was not needed. That there was no need for guilt. That he hadn’t shared, because he hadn’t needed it on his plate at the time. That he didn’t like to share this with him now, but that he did, because going forward in this new step of navigating things related to this habit, where he was now helping another, he was still here to understand, sympathize, and share in what he felt. That it was familiar to him, and that they could navigate this together, and he had someone experienced to lend support, and help him make safety plans and move forward, making sure all possible preventative measures were in place before moving forward.

Making sure they were prepared for it if they had to intervene earlier than they had planned, like without having had a chance to speak to Ronan yet, if need be, having first aid available, planning a way to safely bring John through hyperspace. Something that would take time. How to handle it while Guide was unavailable, taking care of a family matter. Where John would stay until it was taken care of. Making sure there was enough food for the trip to their hearth planet.

He pushes the urgency of these things through their link and helps direct his anxiety to addressing these urgent things productively. He projects the idea to have Foresite seed an individual quarter like his own attached to the family quarter, next to his own with the door at the end of the hall. There was enough unused space there to grow that, and have it able to lock from the outside if need be. Have a life sign sensor in that room that would alert them if anything happened. Try to keep an awareness of him using the telepathic bond, even just minimally. To know whether he was safe.

He projected that he’d packed the first aid he’d been given in his mission supplies. Even if they don’t get a chance to talk to Ronan first, he was prepared to care for him if it became necessary while they were off world and that if he had occasion to need to use it, then he would talk to him then. He hadn’t planned anything specifically he wanted to say. They rarely ever did among the wraith. Gauging what needed to be said and how it was received was more important. Even with conversations planned, they would deviate, so essentially, it would be useless. No, it would be better to plan around John's needs before each thing they said in order to fully meet his needs in each moment as it passed.

Bonewhite projected his approval to that especially. He projected some ideas of his own. Having Sheppard with one of them at all times until they knew that he could be trusted by himself. Checking him over unless he would agree to opening up to Guide and using the link in place from the gift of life so that they could be assured he didn’t intend to take his own life, and when he intended to hurt himself, so that they could know how bad and if he harmed worse than he intended to at some point and would agree to call for help. Letting them keep an eye on him similarly to how they monitored Guide when he struggled. That he could have more freedom to move around independently, and be by himself.

He also shows him the idea of having him stay with him and Shockwave when they return to the hearth, and Guide had urgent business to attend to. They had both seen to Guide for over 10,000 years and knew enough about it to help him through these incidents as needed, even if they would have to stumble around the humans' clunky methods of communication. It would be temporary and would take a day at most, but the human would be with people he trusted, and they could bring Ronan along, as he and Coldwind were together most days, coleading their clan hearthside. Meeting with Coldwind would prove to be enough of a distraction, and Bonewhite still stayed with Shockwave at his home, as he hadn’t a family of his own, and his Sire had lost his mate. Hopefully, his business would be finished before nightfall that day. Guide would have nothing to worry about when he was unable to be present.

Guide shows his relief to him at the idea of this. He would trust nobody more than his Brother and Sire with this, and relaxes a little bit more once his worst worries are assured, and takes a few deep breaths. He had been about to have another panic attack. Bonewhite resists the urge to scratch his scalp. Something that was instinctively soothing. And in the past it had been very effective. Navigating Guide’s new boundaries since returning home, and returning alone had proven difficult for the first few months, but he’d figured out what had happened after only a day or two, just because he hadn’t been able to get a specific impression of what happened. He tended to have more moments of overwhelming dread than anguish lately, but it had been adapted to fairly quickly, but the exact things that set him off were still guess work sometimes.

He places his hand at the back of his head instead, his forehead against his, and his feeding hand against his heart to center him instead, wondering how he had calmed himself the other day. He hadn’t been able to keep his pondering side thought from the link, and it supplied a flash of the human who served as their Queen, while they were without one. He feels some flashes of specific things he hadn’t perceive before she’d been able to see them telepathically through a human understanding, and perceives flashes of their exchange. Choking. Hands holding his hair. Shaving it. His breathing stops for a moment, before bringing their faces closer and their noses touch, projecting calm and comfort. He hadn’t meant to share that, and Foresite had refused to say what he’d seen looking into the variations, and his brother didn’t mean to share.

He sees his brother as he sees himself, a shadow of who he had been in his youth, unwavering and strong, with burning confidence, and the eyes of many on him, thinking he would become one of their next great commanders, perhaps even a blade to a primary. One who would lead their people to victory. Instead he had lost standing so many times, made choices that got so many of their family killed. He had blood on his hands he could never atone for. He’d made so many mistakes, and then gotten Iceyes killed on a simple scout of a planet for a potential research outpost. Wretched. A failure. A disappointment. Undependable.

Bonewhite pushes that out of his mind with the way he sees his older brother, Guide. Brilliant and calculating. Fierce, protective and wise. Unorthodox, and yet, a traditionalist. Insightful, but childish. Nobly stupid. And brave. Braver than anyone he knew. Willing to do anything within the allowances of his moral compass to preserve every Wraith life, and never letting that passion burn out, storm after storm, when so many had already given up and lost hope. A beacon in a moonless, starless, dangerous stormy night.

The reminder of hope that warhawks loved to hate, yet could outmaneuver them all on the battlefield, seemingly at first with the exception of the superhive, yet, with help and no ship of his own, he’d still found a way to take down the greatest wraith ship ever to exist, even if it was by pulling strings. A hero to their people and clan, and those allied to them. A villain in the story of other clans. But a legend in all. The savior who lead the final siege, not with the intention to drive the ancients from the galaxy, but in an attempt to save the lives of 2 wraith, his clutch brothers, Swiftfire and Coldwind, but even in his failure, he had achieved what no wraith Commander or Queen before him ever could. That they would never have to worry about Janus or the others who would eradicate them completely. Driving the ancients back the way they came.

The Genius who had rendered the replicators code to attack them and wipe them out by any means inert, saving countless lives, not just wraith, but entire human worlds. Not once, but twice. An unsung hero to humanity. And compassionate in his tactics, more than any other commander he knew. He shows him the Atero device incident. How even he would have shot first and asked questions later. Programming the ship on a crash course hadn’t been what he wanted. He’d not bothered to spare them in the beginning had he planned on killing them. That had been desperation. He shows him that this is how their Sire sees him, his Grandsire, their brothers did, his sons, and his hive do. His clan. How they all thought him too hard on himself.

When he’s calmed down, he fixes them another pot of tea, grounding in the familiar ritual, pouring off the first steep, communicating in colors with each other. Guide’s greens of gratitude, Bonewhite’s blues of comfort, soft feathery pinks of appreciation, and assuring yellows, and pouring each other each a cup, before they can bring themselves to speak verbally. Bonewhite doesn’t until Guide initiates it though. With Two words. He knew that had he been alone, 200 years would likely have been over.

“Thank you.”

“Do not worry of it, Guide. Your path is changing, and change is not easy, this one in the least, as it's unknown, and therefore scary. Yours is a difficult, and often lonely path, but on this leg of your journey, you are not, and your path forward is not so alone now either. The human Guide, Sheppard, has been walking the path beside you since you first escaped. For the first time, another, of our sibling species, walks beside you looking to find peace, and you don’t want to walk this path alone again, and you will not. But a path that is lonely is often sad, and frightening. And on your path to help him, you have me, to stand beside you. You put yourself down for your struggles far too often, when you shoulder a burden nobody who’s come before or after you has, and nobody else would and you’ve done it timelessly. Even the strongest trees bend in the wind, or get blown over.” With this they drink and pour each other another cup, and Guide inclines his head in thanks.

“You always have had a way of reasoning with me when I’m like this. I thank you for your patience with me.”

“Every hero of myth needs their keeper, frog breath.” He says, timing it just as Guide took a sip of his tea, nearly making him shoot it out his nose. He smirks subtly at this as his brother laughs out loud at this and sips his own tea, and they put their cups face down as they finish the pot.

“We’d best get in uniform for the briefing. Last update from mission control is that we’re heading out early. We’ll have to catch Ronan as we gear up or when we arrive. Word came in when you were with Dr. Heightmeyer. It’s expected to rain in a few hours, and we want to make it to the outpost and set up camp where we can remain warm and dry long before the downpour starts. Very nice of them, since Ember requested this, stating our cold blooded physiology.”

Guide makes an affirmative noise at this and Grabs Bonewhite’s comb, running it through his hair for him before he stands up to get dressed, tucking the hiveskin into the pocket of his pants, and Bonewhite carefully straightens a strand or two of his before he takes his leave, going to his room and dressing in his military uniform, taking off his thermals and packing them in his bag, as well as a warmer set of clothing. The climate was known for being unpredictable on this planet this season, and frozen the rest of the year, and a field disabled any airborne travel, like the world mostly inhabited by children. They’d have to walk to the outpost.

He packs a few scientific tools at the last moment, but other than that, they had everything he needed packed this morning before seeing the doctor. He already knew timelines were subject to change around here, and it wasn’t something he’d intended to be unprepared for. Last, he holsters all his weapons, and ties his boots before joining Bonewhite, Ember and Foresite in the hall, all in uniform, though rather than his normal work jumpsuit, Foresite wore the leather attire of a scientist, not an officer. What he wore when not working on a biomechanical issue of some kind and giving reports or during official missions or meetings, and make their way to the briefing room where the council used to meet, the last time Atlantis was inhabited, breathing in the fresh salty air as they make their way to the central spire, bowing when they enter the room and take their seats.

Mr. Woolsey, Ronan, Rodney, Teyla and John all had already arrived, and were drinking coffee out of styrofoam cups and had not yet sat down, and Ronan and John seemed to be ribbing McKay for some reason or another. Not that he could blame them. The man had a way of making you want to pick on him, for all his brilliance. When John sees them, he smiles and waves, saying, “Guess we’ll have to put our plans for tonight off until we get back Todd, but we’ll have plenty of time for stargazing tonight anyway, weather permitting. You guys ready to go over the mission specifications?” John asks.

“Quite. As I said, we have interest in this world. Some of the original 100 wraith are believed to have come from this planet. And it could be the place of our creation.” Guide says.

“Place of your creation? Like your home planet?” McKay asks, putting his tablet down at this information.

Foresite replies to this. “Not quite Dr. McKay. We were created on a planet that for most of the year lie frozen. When the Ancients realized our full abilities, they decided to scrap the project, and destroy their test subjects. At this point there were about 10 queens and 90 males, and every officer and queen today can trace their linage back to two or three of these individuals. We’d have had nowhere to go had the humans who inhabited this world not taken pity on them. They were already a space faring people, so they took them onboard one of their ships, and found them a world that would be comfortable for us to grow as a species. With plenty of humidity and the presence of Iratus bugs, which we have a spiritual connection to, and gave them what they needed to start out. Our clan still lives there today. They came to check on us several times before they eventually disappeared. We’d like to know more about our creation, and possibly find clues as to what became of our benefactors. Our clan has the gift of sight into the dimensions around us, but even those strongest in our gifts can’t see anything pertaining to them, and we’ve looked for perhaps 16,000 years.”

Dr McKay frowns at this. They hadn’t found any advanced, space faring civilizations that met this description so far, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. “These people you speak of, they were human?” He asks, opening some program on his tablet and begins taking notes.

“Yes.” Bonewhite says. “They’d stopped coming about 4,000 years before myself and my brother came into the world, but the generations that had the chance to meet them confirmed this fact. They came by regularly, and made sure we were well fed, and protected so that our society could grow and develop.” At this point, he placed his hands on the table. “Our sire said that they lived in a way that respected all life, and had living innovation to their technology. They preferred bright clothing. Reds, yellows, and blues. Sang beautifully, and were engaging story tellers. Their language had many words for snow, to describe animals, with different words for different phases of life, even in the same species. A reverence for everything. I don’t know if this information would help you, were you to ever meet them, but this is what we know of them. When they stopped coming, we had to begin hibernation until we took to the stars. Our sire’s generation is the one that first made it to space. He was the son of one of the original 100, as was our father, Shade, but his older brothers, and their parents were hibernating, and adults took turns caring for the young, those who had to wake due to reproductive need, and feeding from a clone with lifeforce, with no mind of its own, never intended to be a soldier. But we slept mostly until we could go find food for ourselves, and try to seek out those who had helped us. And be together as families. But those you call the ancients had been looking for us, and when we took to space, developing our systems from the technology those who helped us had left us with, they intended to stick to their original plan of terminating their experiment.”

Rodney takes down the information and frowns. “I don’t see anything about them in the database here. The ancients probably deleted all reference to them for helping you guys. The planet isn't here either. The only data that we have on it is from the MALP and the drone we sent through that found the outpost. It’s just blank here. Completely blank. Like, not even in the star maps. Like they were trying to keep anyone from knowing it existed. It’s not an arbitrary lack of data. This is conspicuous deletion. We only found the gate address through an algorithm that generated gate addresses and this one connected. If what you guys are telling us is completely accurate, not to say that it wouldn’t be, but it’s been so long the details may be hazy, this could very well be the place. ”

“We had figured as much may be the case regarding the database. My father had searched for it when he was here several times and found nothing.” Ember says. “That's why we thought that our best bet would be to accompany you when he heard you speak of the planet before our ship touched down. If it’s not in your database, this could hold a chapter of our history and creation that even our first generation does not know. Their memories of who they were before did not return until they left the ice world, and their first few hundred years there are hazy too as the changes to their physiology continued. Our benefactors did not tell us what they were called, nor did we think to ask. Our culture took influence from theirs though, and from the Wraith of the homeworlds of the original 100, though those are specific to the clans they propagated. We hadn’t known that the galaxy was inhabited by many, many more human worlds yet. Even though some had come from advanced worlds, they were advanced mostly because of their interactions with Alterans. And they took several from each world. This was before those societies started using the stargate and knew of each other. We were created before the network had even been completed in pegasus. It was finished in my father’s early life. Who came from where is really only known amongst the clans they propagated, but ours, of the Queen mother and 9 males who founded it, we know our Queen mother, and three of our founding males were Athosian, two Satedian, two Taranian, and one Jenevn.”

Guide noticed that John had looked more quiet and introspective at the description of their benefactors, and almost far away. It was an interesting reaction. He’d have to probe him more about it later.

Ronan was a bit more predictable. “Prove it.”

He’d almost missed it, wondering about John.

Nevertheless, he takes the hiveskin out of his pocket and tosses it over to Dex. He’d planned to show them this later, but Ember’s brief history lesson that hadn’t been planned when discussing their interest in the outpost necessitated a change in plans.

Dex unfolded it and laid it out on the table, looking at it in shock before getting up and pacing the board room, causing the other four humans present to crowd around the hiveskin, but not recognizing the older Wraith there. But they could see the similarities between the two younglings present in the photograph, making them glance between the image on the table, him, and his brother with contemplative looks. “Todd, Kenny, is this you guys?” John eventually asks with a smirk. He recognized the older Wraith’s facial tattoo, but didn't know he was an important historical figure. Or personal to Ronan.

“It is. I had brought this to tell Ronan later, in private, and show him, as I’m sure the likeness is familiar, though the impromptu history lesson from my son has caused my plans to change. I must apologize that you did not hear this from me directly. I had thought it best to prepare you for what you may learn on this mission by telling you of the personal significance separately, either before leaving, or after making camp.”

“This is Chieftain Naven Dex!” Ronan says, coming back and slapping his hand on the table, nostrils flaring. “How do you know him!” He demands through his teeth, getting in his face.

“Coldwind is my Grandsire. One of the original 100. He still lives, Ronan. It is why you are immune to feeding. He had a son before being taken through the ring. A direct descendant of the original 100 is immune to the feeding process. Rogue factions use these humans as runners for fun or training. Those who don’t respect these original 100, and wish them to know that. I do wish to speak to you and tell you more when we’re done with the briefing, if you would have it.”

“Oh, we’ll be having a conversation, as soon as we settle down for the night.” Ronan says, going back to his seat before staring at the hive skin. The familiar face, now with wraith features.

“What’s with your hair here?” Ronan finally asks Todd, smile on his face.

“And what’s with your face Kenny?” John adds.

He and his brother look between each other, and share a slightly dumb look, partially induced by the tea they’d had earlier, and Kenny says, “Todd got hungry while he was having his hair redone. He ate my pet.”

“It was a frog! We ate them all the time!” He says.

Foresite and Ember share a look, never having heard the story before turning to their uncle and tilting their heads.

Ember finally says, “I’d never known you to play with your food.”

“Oh if only you knew…” he says, keeping a sour expression.

Sheppard can’t help but laugh at that, choking on his coffee after catching the implications.

The rest of the humans follow, and Todd eventually joins.

Kenny’s expression is as sour as ever, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Chapter Text

Todd’s team and John stepped through the gate and were greeted by mild warmth that bordered on brisk when the breeze fluttered softly by them, dancing with the atmosphere and carrying the sweet smell of that particular grass, and Todd and his team inhaled deeply and smiled.

“It smells like home.” Ember remarks softly and John looks over at them and raises an eyebrow.

“This grows on earth. We call it Sweet Grass.” He says. “Like, all over the northern hemisphere.”

“We call it Manna Grass on New Athos. It grew on Old Athos as well.” Teyla says.

“We called it Holy Grass on Satada.” Ronan says, seeing it growing around the path for the gate and cutting a bit of it and handing some of it to John, who tucked it into a BDU pocket with a grin that held a hint of sadness, and his scent held nostalgia for things he had never had the chance to know.

“So does my clan. Our Grandsire always had some in his dwelling place. Over top of the doorway.” Bonewhite says.

“We did that on Sateda.” Ronan states simply.

“I know in the area my family came from, people keep it in windows.” John says.

“Then you should put what you have in your quarters window, John Sheppard.” Todd says, and inclines his head to the grass then looks at Ronan to do the same before they start walking the path, John and Foresite taking point, Rodney, Teyla and Ember taking the center, and Todd makes eye contact with Kenny and Ronan, signaling that they would take up the rear, lingering further back to talk privately.

Ronan had effectively become willing to talk, realizing that if they had brought a personal photograph like that, there must be something important Todd wasn't offering up. He never did anything without a reason. And while Ronan still didn't trust them, he was smugly satisfied at the embarrassing hair style. He had a feeling this was serious though, if he was willing to offer childhood pictures, and he had a feeling, that it also meant this was something personal.

Todd had been acting strange to him the past few days. He'd noticed. He always kept an eye on the wraith. He’d been talking to people he didn’t normally talk to. Watching John carefully. He’d heard Teyla talking to John about her strange encounter with the Wraith. He knew something was up, and if Todd was about to let him in on it, he wasn’t about to miss the chance to figure out what he was really up to, and provoke him as much as he possibly could in the process.

“What do you really want?” He asks in a voice low enough not to be heard by the others up ahead.

“To the point I see, and as suspicious as ever. You wouldn’t believe I put my dignity on the line because I want to help a friend, would you?” Todd asks, almost antagonistically, with a flamboyance normally reserved for John, and Kenny rolls his eyes. “Commander, now is not the time.” he cuts in, and Ronan cracks up.

“What, pray tell, is so funny Dex?” Todd snarls.

“Oh nothing. You're just trying to have a serious conversation, but I keep picturing little you in pigtails eating a frog.” Ronan says.

Kenny places himself between them and says, “We need to have a serious talk. Stop acting like nestlings. This is a matter that should be of serious concern to you too, and you’ll want to hear what we have to say.”

“Oh will I?” he asks, getting in his space, but all parties still keeping their tone low.

“You are the one who asked what we really want, are you not?” Kenny asks, and the two of them stare each other down, stopping on the path, and when this happens, he feels red alarm from Todd, and notices his breathing grow slightly faster.

“This… This was a mistake.” Todd finally says and just walks up ahead of them. He supposed that had gone about as he should have expected.

Now Ronan was officially weirded out.

“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” he demands, grabbing the wraith by the arm and turning him around, so the three of them were standing in a circle. “You’ve been acting weird for days. What are you really up to?”

Kenny gave Todd the mental equivalent of a stomp on the foot to keep him from rising to the bait.

“As my brother said, as inconsiderately as he did, there is someone who he wishes to help. And it’s someone you are close to as well. If this issue were to be addressed by the New Lantians, I don’t think it would be in anyone’s favor.” Kenny says.

“This is about Sheppard isn’t it?” He asks.

“That’s very perceptive. What may I ask made you reach that conclusion?” Todd asks, raising his brow ridge.

“Been worried about him. Been depressed.” Ronan says, turning his head to the side and spitting. Todd made a slightly grossed out face. It must have shown. Ronan’s lips curled in a smile for a brief moment.

“Yes. You have reason to be. You're aware of our sensory differences, yes?” Todd asks and gestures to his sensory pitts.

Ronan rolls his eyes. “Of course. You… smelled… I don’t fucking know what to call it, but something to be worried about?”

“Blood Dex. From the same areas of the body. Different days. Different times. Areas of the skin he doesn’t show.” Todd says.

“You think he’s hurting himself?” Ronan asks.

“I believe at this point, I’d say that I know.” Todd says. “That's why I’ve been watching him. You could say I’m very familiar with the signs, but I wanted to make sure that I knew how to handle this in a way that’s appropriate to human culture. With telepathy, when someone inflicts, you can’t exactly hide something like that. Responses to it have become… polarized post war, but when handled with appropriate empathy, it’s handled by those who are close friends or kin by perceiving the needs of the individual in the moment. There’s not so much guess work in the appropriateness of your intentions as relying on spoken word.”

Ronan doesn’t know what to say to this at first, glancing up ahead to make sure they weren’t missed. Then he asks, “Why do you care?” He was glaring slightly, but he smelled worried. Defensive.

“John Sheppard is Todd’s brother. Family. You could say it’s part of an honor code. When the gift is exchanged willingly, as it was with Sheppard, it can create a brother bond, if the human accepts it. They need to be receptive, but Todd can feel a telepathic link. It’s more than just a title, it’s a true connection. If John wished, he could connect to Todd’s mind, and through him, even the minds of the wraith in proximity to him, should he choose. We have lost a lot of family. Too much. We are the last two of 13 brothers. Todd does not wish to lose a brother. Not to this.” Kenny says.

“You said you were familiar?” Ronan asks.

“What a Wraith does to themselves, that does not heal. The scar is forever.” Todd says, pushing his sleeve up so it showed a quarter of his lower arm. “I know this pain too well. And I will not lose a family member to this, and I will not allow him to be returned to Earth because of this.” Todd says.

Ronan clenches his jaw, but nods. “That would kill him. What do you need from me?”

“I would like to take him back to my hearth planet. I want him to be in an environment where there’s no risk to him to address this. And, free of some of the judgment that contributes to the reasons he does this.” Todd says.

“Don’t ask, don't tell?” Ronan asks.

Todd raises an eyebrow ridge now. “He asked questions once. Talked to Teyla. Said he’d had a boyfriend once. So I kinda figured he went that way.” Ronan says with a shrug.

“He lost him.” Todd says. Ronan makes an empathetic face.

“Didn’t know that part of it. But most of you guys are male. So I'm guessing most of you must see other men? And that’s part of why you think that your planet may be more suited to addressing this problem fully?” Ronan asks.

“I know he needs to process his grief. He has not been in an environment where it would be safe for him to do that. John needs support. Losing a mate but not being able to grieve them and being punished for loving them is intolerable to the mind in the long term. But we also wish him to have a familiar, safe person come along. And, we wanted someone who would know his honor code, so we don’t push too far. And there when I talk to him.” Todd says.

“I will be there too. For Todd. Some of what he and John have gone through is very similar. It’s part of why he wants to help so much, but I will call for a breather if he needs it.” Kenny says.

“You lost someone?” Ronan asks. “The sire of our children. When I returned home from my Genii captivity, it was alone. I have not returned to the hearth to take time for myself either, out of necessity, but it’s long overdue.” he says.

Ronan nods to this. “I lost someone too. Didn’t get a chance to start processing it until Sheppard offered me a place to stay. And you told me because Coldwind is there.” It wasn’t asked as a question, but he wanted them to elaborate on the matter, if his raised eyebrow was any indication.

“Yes. To convince you if needed. He grieves his people. We all grieve for them. When my brother was absent, his son was sent on behalf of his Great Grandsire to try to stop the genocide. It does not make up for what was done to you or your people. But before we leave, there’s someone on board the hive who could tell you more. Someone who was there. My nephew. Burning Heart.”

“He’s not coming back with us, if John agrees to go?” Ronan asks.

“I’m going to propose a personnel exchange. I believe two sons in particular would be better suited to a political position among humans than others who currently serve on board my hive. And because they are my sons, the New Lantians would feel assured of your safety. They may propose it will be me who stays, but one of you just needs to say that you’d prefer to make a deal with the devil you know.” Todd says.

“Okay. When do we talk to him?” Ronan asks. Normally, he’d never be so quick to go along with Todd’s plans. But for once, he didn’t want Atlantis to handle this. He’d dealt with the IOA enough to know that it would not go well for John. And if he had one thing in common with Todd, it was that John was his brother.

“Hopefully, we can wait until we get back. If not, we’ll handle this privately. There’s a first aid kit in my bag with extra supplies beside that which comes in the standard issue kit in my bag. Should we have occasion to use it, we will need to talk at that point.” Todd says, and the three of them start moving again.

“Okay.” Ronan says, fixing his eyes on the trail ahead and walking forward resolutely, passing from grassland and approaching the forest, spanning over a small mountain like a cape of tall, green pines, decorated with a sparkling ribbon of a mountain river they cross, stepping from rock to rock. The water level was low right now, but looking at the bent brush along the bank told them that it’s comfortable, 5 foot width stretched to an impassable 20 when the river flooded and water moved past. This planet was beautiful, but like any colder planet, that beauty could quickly turn dangerous. Even deadly.

The Wraith could tell that the conversation was over and follow along the path, exchanging relief and bewilderment that had gone as well as it did. The rear guard spent the rest of the walk in silence, with the occasional chatter of Ember and McKay talking enthusiastically about operating systems, to the point where he’d earned himself a human nickname from Sheppard so he had something to call him when the two of them nerded out and they had to tell the two of them to quiet down. Tommy, he had decided to call him as they made their way through forest that had been untouched for thousands of years, teaming with life, and decay, with mushrooms growing from fallen logs and the occasional bone from an animal that had been picked clean by scavengers and insects.

Foresite had also been given a name as he and Sheppard coordinated movement from the point. He couldn’t just say, “Hey, you!” all the time, he’d explained, and had bestowed the name Stan. He’d glanced at Kenny with a subtle smirk. There must have been some sort of funny connection between the names, if McKay’s annoyed reaction was anything to go by.

Todd snickered though. He’d seen the show, stuck in a cell with a TV on earth.

He let them spend the rest of the three hour hike wondering.

They made it to the outpost about an hour before nightfall in order to set up, and Todd sets down his pack and takes out a portable shelter like they used on their hearth. It was made out of a more solid piece of bioengineered skin, that formed a bell tent with a steep roof that could hold a fire, and heat, far better than the human shelters could. They needed to maintain their body temperatures, and it would get cold here at night, and he and his family set it up quickly and start gathering firewood from the forest that seemed to border at the outpost, and compile a considerable stack as the humans set up their tents and equipment, and once they set up an area that can retain the warmth critical to their survival, they start a fire in the center between their shelters, so that the humans could prepare food for the night, and they could have warmth as they worked on anything around camp.

Nights were long on this planet, so they weren't tired just yet, but they definitely didn't want want to be traversing the surface of an unknown world in the dark, so they gathered around the fire, the Lantians with a pot and enough MRE beef stroganoff for all of them, and Kenny had brought his kettle and a non psychoactive brew. Just a relaxing one, and they sat around waiting for their food and drink to heat up. A picture none of them thought they would see in their lifetimes. Yet it was amicable. Friendly even. Kenny offered to share their tea, and him and Teyla started discussing the ingredients. McKay offered them some of the stroganoff. Teyla took Kenny up on the offer of tea and Tommy and Todd took them up on the food.

John was surprised by this. He'd never seen Todd accept food. But to this younger one it seemed second nature. “How are you liking that Tommy?” He asks.

“It's interesting. Better than I expected given how it was produced. Palatable, but not my first choice.” John cracks up at his analytical review and says, “That's the point buddy. These are for missions. Fresh stuff is better.”

“Yeah. We usually carry some reconstitutable food on hive for my age group. But nothing like home. Still, its better than what we have on long deployments.” He says.

“How old are you anyway?” Rodney asks, raising an eyebrow at this. “1,804.” He says. “You start needing to feed at about 15, but need a mixed diet until your about 2,000. Sometimes older officers enjoy food too, but drones are hatched from their cloning pods fully developed physically. Well physically developed as they’ll get. But most officers don’t deploy until fully independent of digestion any more.” he says.

“So that’s what, like a teenager still? You some kind of genius or something?” He asks.

“Yes.” Kenny says. “Kid loves computers. Like, loves them. He helped his dad write the code for the replicators you worked on with McKay. He’s apprenticing under him, but he grew up working on operating systems Todd helped decode. For fun.”

“Impressive. I’m glad we brought you along. I took a look at the systems in the outpost earlier and they're heavily encrypted. I could get in myself, but it would take a day or two. With help, we could probably get in a lot quicker.”

“With help? I bet he’ll get in before you, Meredith.” John quips with a smirk and pats him on the shoulder.

“Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on again 3 times?” The young wraith asks. It was a fail safe that was pretty common across operating systems. “It lets you pull up a start up menu and plug in a cypher to decrypt everything. I managed to come up with a base cypher for the more common ancient encryption systems about 300 years ago.”

McKay made a noise of astonished disbelief and gesticulated wildly, confidently proclaiming that that there was no way that would work, before the two computer nerds took off like a couple of children, and ironically, it was only the older of the two that had that excuse, leaving a few humans and a few wraith with their hands over their mouths, and after a moment, John mutters something about babysitting the nerds between peels of laughter and takes off after them, and they settled into amused silence, with those who remained, discussing the tea and the commonalities in the herbs they used and their rituals for about an hour. Kenny and Teyla quickly became engaged in this topic, and chatted like old friends.

The atmosphere started changing, temperature climbing lower and the breeze taking on the smell of incoming rain. Blankets wrapped around them tighter and more wood was added to the fire. The stars twinkled less as they were blanketed by clouds, and the wind started lifting their hair when the scene around the fire changed from kindling the flames of comradery, to alarm with a simple radio call from McKay.

“Hey, is Sheppard with you guys? He left for the bathroom like a half hour ago. Like ten minuets after we got in.” He asks.

“No.” Ronan says. “Did he seem upset or something?” he added, his brow furrowing.

“You know, now that you mentioned it when we started reading about the biological experimentation on them John left. The first 10 Wraith created were from this planet, and he just seemed, I don’t know… Affected by what we were reading about it. Them. He’d had enough at the front and side profiles they took before and after they were changed.” He says.

“Rodney, John’s mother’s side is from a northern people. You didn’t think that would be upsetting to him? Which way did he go?” Teyla asks.

“What? He went south from the control room. Toward the tree line and the river out back behind the outpost. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” he says.

“He said that you likely were not familiar with them anyway, and it often leads to politically intricate conversations. He likely did not wish to explain that or get involved in such a deep topic. We’re going to look for him.” She says and turns to the Wraith as the sky starts to rumble. They had better find him sooner rather than later.

“Ronan, tell McKay to take Tommy back to base, and prepare dry clothing. Stan, prepare a warming tea with hot honey. Teyla, get John’s dry clothing prepared and his bunk gear. We’ll all likely become hypothermic if it starts raining. Keep the shelter warm, and bring John’s things in here and some wood. Enough to last the night so we don’t struggle with wet firewood.” He reaches out to her mind and pushes his suspicions through it, and she nods, not shocked at all. She had her suspicions of her own, based on areas of sensitivity while sparing, and if such a situation was the case, they’d need to be prepared to take care of him, and she’d stay back to help get everything ready to see to that and the rescue party, which would likely come back cold. And that she would make sure his children stayed warm, and would not go out looking for them. He trusted her with that. As she had with her son.

Everyone keeps moving and getting prepared to move out in the rain and Todd grabs his first aid kit and straps it to his back, and he and Kenny each put on a leather cloak, and Kenny grabs fiber spun blanket they could put under the human’s space blanket.

“McKay wants to know where he should go.” Ronan says, his finger on the radio in his ear as he geared up.

“Tell him to stay in the control room in case he comes back. Tell him to see if he can find a way to bring the anti aircraft field down. If it storms, that stream we crossed earlier may cut us off from the gate. If he needs medical attention, it would be impossible to walk back and we’d need to wait for a radio call. If you can bring that down, we may be able to get here by jumper.”

“Okay, I’ll work on getting that down. The river is far enough away for us to be safe at the outpost right?” He asks.

“It’s not the one we would need to cross to get John back I would worry about in that regard, Rodney. It would be the one behind. To the south, where he headed. I believe we’re far enough away not to be flooded out, but wild life may come closer than they would have if they get trapped.” Ronan tells him as the three of them set off, all aware of why only the three of them were looking, Ronan, Todd and Kenny walking around the building until they found tracks coming out a door on the south side of the building, toward the woods and Ronan swears, turning on a flashlight and following the prints to the tree line at a run.

There was blood. Kenny and Todd perceived it in the air as soon as Ronan saw it, and they take off after him, tracking and following his trail as they grew near to the water. Time moved impossibly slow as they make their way through the forest, each and every minute precious. A drop here. A drop there. But enough drops for there to be a trail. Spotting them in the dark took impossibly long.

Todd feels his heart leaping into his throat, choking him, and he leans over and gags a bit, trying to keep what he ate in his stomach, and takes a deep breath as they start calling for John, the clouds starting to lose their tears in the dark, moonless night, lit up by the occasional charge of lightning, and the drizzling of the rain and howl of wind providing a mournful symphony playing ominously in the background of their search. The sound of thunder covered their beating hearts.

“SHEPPARD!” From Todd, desperately, the wind carrying his voice, seemingly to nowhere. They’d been searching for a while now. A half hour. The night was growing cold. They kept searching the area, but the minutes seemed like hours. He called out to him. Over and over, only to be met with silence. Each time he was met with the sound of nothing, his pulse hiked higher and higher.

“COLONEL!” Kenny yelled, reaching out to Todd in his mind. He could feel his brother panicking, and he could feel him beginning to grow cold. They’d have to worry for their own safety too soon. The rain quickly turns from a drizzle to a downpour, washing away most of the trail, and his brother’s hope. Yet, he kept yelling for the human, as hope of him replying grew colder and colder, just like their ectothermic bodies. Each precious second passed, and he found himself growing desperate. If they couldn’t find him, Todd would refuse to return to shelter. And he’d not return without his brother.

“JOHN!” It was yelled in alarm, with notes of surprise and desperation, just as the older wraith was starting to seriously panic, and the two of them move in the direction of the voice, toward the river with inhuman speed. Ronan had located him, and he sounded scared. And the scene was not good.

His jacket was off. And so were his pants. He’d been attempting to clean the injuries on his shoulders and thighs, but the one on his thigh was deep. It looked like he’d tried to stop the bleeding with his belt. Deeper than intended, if the lack of hesitation was anything to go by, and the attempt to save his own life. His BDU Pants were near by, a large patch of dark red spreading over the thigh, and soaking through the pocket where he’d put the sweetgrass earlier.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Todd starts to shake, his hands tremor illuminated by flashes of lightning that lit up the sky like it was day, and the rain was coming down sideways, while John was passed out, and quickly losing body heat.

And he was still losing blood. For god knows how long. Not as serious as it could have been had John himself not thought quickly, but they still had to close this up. And fast. It had taken them an hour to find him, tracking him one drop at a time, and they left 5 minutes after Rodney told him he’d been gone. He’d had a half hour head start. If John died, Todd might just feed on McKay!

He pulls his first aid kit off his back and starts wrapping his fingers in gauze and gloving up as Ronan takes his pulse.

“His heart beat is slowing down, but still strong. Not a lot of pooled blood. I think he’s in shock and hypothermic. If it were blood loss the heart rate would be weaker. Do either of you know how to give stitches?” Ronan yells over the wind. Todd nods. “Good. Cover as much of him as you can in the blanket and space blanket Kenny, then help me hold him still.” Ronan says.

Kenny nods, and they get set up, Kenny wrapping John and Ronan in the blanket to warm him up faster, and wrapping a space blanket from the first aid kit over top of that. Ronan was behind John, holding him up and keeping pressure on the wound on his shoulder. There was one there that may need a few stitches, but it wasn’t as serious as the one on his leg.

Both Wraith started to shiver just a little as Kenny held his leg and Todd cleaned the wound as quickly as he could, and set up a sanitary work area, just like Beckett had shown him. And he couldn’t be more grateful that Carson drilled it into him as well as he did. Stimulated real conditions. It was wet and slippery, and he was hyperventilating the whole time. But he got through. It wasn't pretty. Or perfect. But they held. And that's what was important. The lightning and thunder cracked and rumbled across the sky above them, charging the atmosphere with electric tension as he slowly closed up the too cold skin, growing tired as he grew colder and colder.

He wouldn’t have been able to do it if it wasn’t for Kenny, sending him support, and the detachment necessary to dig in and out of his friend's flesh as Ronan held the flashlight between his neck and his shoulder as his hands held tightly to the wound on his shoulder. Todd cleans it with gauze and alcohol, then readies the saline and gauze, throwing any used items away from the sterile field.

Out in, in out, knot, knot, knot, over and over again. Out in, in out, knot, knot, knot, 17 times rinsing and wiping as he went, his hands far from steady as would be ideal in such dangerous situation, yellow and green brown eyes watching his every movement until he’s dressing the wound with a large gauze pad and tape, then moves onto his arm, then tries to get him to wake up. His body temperature had risen, but he now was warm, Ronan remarks.

“We need him to wake up. He needs fever reducers and antibiotics.” Todd says.

“We need to get him back. And you guys.” Ronan says, trying to wake him up, and standing as Todd packed up the kit, keeping the pills and some water in a pocket in case he woke up, and they start making their way north as quickly as they can, but the two Wraith were becoming too cold, too quickly, and were slowing down. But Todd pushed on, him and Kenny holding onto each other. One painful step after another, as quickly as they could manage. And eventually, he smelled smoke before the safety of the outpost even came into view. Just in time too, because it had start becoming too hard to move on their own, even leaning on each other to stay upright.

Ronan ran ahead, getting John into the shelter and sent Rodney and Teyla after the Wraith, and they ran for Kenny and Todd, helping them inside and shooing the younglings out, practically dragging them, so they could get out of their wet clothes and start warming up, and quickly begin discarding the wet leather, and slipping them into their warmer clothing sets. Long sleeved silk, lined with fiber spun fabric on the inside, with Todd’s in black and decorated in bone bead and small skulls, with ivory fringe on the shirt sleeves and bottom, as well as the ankle openings on his pants. Black on black embroidery. Intimidating, but graceful. His shirt was held closed by three silk ties at the shoulder, and one on each side of the waist that reached mid thigh length, and Kenny's were forest green with white and silver embroidery, and was similarly lined, but with leather buckles, with a more utilitarian look, and Kenny wraps his hair in a towel.

Todd was still shivering, with wet hair, and was about to move away from Kenny, now approaching him with one, energized by the warmth steeping into him when he felt a push against his mind. It wasn’t his brother. He looked at his sons minds next, but it hadn’t been either of them. They were still asking for answers from the humans, and he sent them a push that everyone was safe now. He had little doubt they'd be probing him for answers later though.

Still, it had been a clear, family presence insisting that he dry his hair. It wasn’t Teyla though. This was not the mind of a queen.

That could only mean one other mind, and he quickly follows the pull of the mind to find John Sheppard, with his eyes hardly open. But it was John, all the same, and Todd quickly rushes for his coat, grabbing for the pills and making the Colonel swallow them, gently cradling his head in his safe hand, and was unable to shield him from the relief that flooded his brain to see the man conscious.

Once he gets them down his throat, he lies his head back down, and John once again nudges his mind. Telling him to let his hair be taken care of before his body temperature dropped too low.

Todd looks over to Kenny and allows him to wrap his hair in a towel, before he returns to John, and quickly starts removing the wet clothing from his person, changing him into a dry set of boxers and a tee shirt and drying his hair before zipping him into the sleeping bag, the human giving weak, embarrassed protests, until he was covered. He reached out to his son's again to let them know they needed to talk to John privately. To stay in the outpost. McKay had no doubt gotten climate control online. It was nowhere to sleep, but it would give them some privacy with John in the shelter for a while, so they could get him situated, and so they could have a serious conversation with him, without fear of interruption. And everyone could stay warm and dry.

While they were urgently being warmed up, Ronan was bringing Teyla, Rodney, Tommy and Stan up to speed, and Todd sent a push to Teyla to keep an eye on Tommy. Make sure they stayed inside.

Once all their personnel are somewhere safe and the two Wraith are out of danger of hypothermia Ronan comes back in, and they set up 4 tea cups. There was a separate pot of tea going in a smaller kettle that Kenny had put on for something to help lower body temperature. For John’s fever. They used it when they got too hot on a desert planet, but it worked similarly in human physiology. They had hot honey set out to add additional heating properties to help them get up to a comfortable temperature.

John's eyes were still closed at this point, and they start fixing their cups, taking them in still slightly shaking hands, and for a while, the quiet is only interrupted by the sounds of them taking sips from their cups, and the lessening chattering of teeth.

It was only once the kettle started to sing, that John opened his eyes again, and Ronan helps him sit and presses the 4th cup with freshly brewed tea into his hands, giving John a look that quickly shut down anything he had planned to say.

John looks down at his cup, putting off so many scents it was overwhelming to keep up with. Panic. Anger. Regret. Sadness. No, deeper than sadness. This was bereavement. And shame. So much shame. Todd reached out to John with his mind, wrapping it in a soothing blanket of glowing blue green, warm comfort, and the ease of empathy like a soothing balm. He looks like he wants to say something, but Ronan holds up a finger.

“Sheppard, not yet. We’ll talk. And we're not mad. Just give yourself some time to wake up a bit. And let Todd and Kenny regulate their body temperature. We're not upset with you, and we don't want you to think we're upset with you or trying to shut down. Let's just give them a moment to gather themselves.” He reaches over and squeezes him on the good shoulder. “And don’t start feeling guilty either. Just drink, and let us know if you start getting dizzy.”

John looks like he wants to argue, but Todd lets him feel how cold Kenny is through him, and Kenny sends him the dead frog look and lets John feel how cold Todd is, and the look Todd gave him matched in such a way that made the family resemblance clear.

Ronan looks between the three of them and cocks his head, watching the silent exchange. John looks between the three of them, and a flash of the hiveskin photograph flashes through the link next to what John was seeing, and the two Wraiths look of surprise makes John and Ronan crack up.

Kenny and Todd do as well, seeing it through John’s eyes and sip their tea, learning the names of the smells in their language. Cinnamon, star anise, ginger and nutmeg in their cups. In his own, mint, cardamom, hibiscus and citrus. Ronan smells the fruit peel and laughs again, and John does too, Todd and Kenny seeing the memories of McKay’s citrus allergy. John giving another member of their military a fruit to threaten him with, and then he feels Todd filing that information away for next time he brings up the hyperdrive and super volcano.

They sip their tea, John’s anxiety eased by the presence in his mind, letting him feel the candid reactions of the others in the shelter with them, and he notices his surroundings for the first time. Kenny shows him they had him in here in case he got sick. The constant temperature that would keep them from freezing to death would keep him safe in the event of a fever or infection.

Once their through their first cup of tea, they pour everyone another cup, and Todd and Ronan help John sit up near the fire and wrap himself in a blanket, so they could talk facing each other. John noticed Todd’s sleeves sliding up his arms slightly as they help position him and he can’t hide his surprise through their link, and Todd reaffirms his understanding through the bond.

“John, we need to have a serious conversation. I’ve been worried about you for some time, but we had hoped to put this off until we got back. But the injuries today were serious, and there’s a good chance that they may get infected. We’re cut off right now because of the storm, in all likelihood. I have antibiotics and fever reducers in my first aid kit, but you have much you need to work through before resuming your responsibilities. I of all people would know.” he puts his cup down at this and turns to look at John.

“And I know how important it is that nobody from the Milky Way Galaxy finds out about this. I would like you to return to my hearth with me. Where you will not face the harsh judgment of your peers for Charlie, and to process everything you're dealing with. Finding out about our history seems to have opened the book on chapters of your own that your not as familiar with as you would like to be, but that you still need to address and reconcile how these losses are still part of you. It’s not an easy thing to do, and you need a place of peace where you can. I’m going to propose a personnel exchange. When we get there, I’ll need a day to see to some family business of my own, but when we get there, your going to take some time to take care of yourself, allow others to care for you, and spend time with family. When I say you are a brother to me John, I truly do mean that. I do not wish to see a brother walk the path I have alone. I do not suffer the delusion that we can force you to stop, but I do hope that we can help you achieve a baseline where you don’t engage quite so chronically. And to reel you in to the point where you don’t accidentally go further than you’d intended to again, like what happened tonight. This is a dangerous situation, and we will be here a while, so it’s not over yet. I do not want you to place yourself in danger this way, John Sheppard.” Todd says, letting him feel the truth of his words. His desperate plea. His fear of losing another brother.

He feels Kenny’s worry for Todd, and for him by extension at first, but as a friend now too, and how he didn’t want to see his brother fearing for John the way he had for him. How he’d worried for Todd’s sake how he would handle this conversation. That they’d expected him to be upset in some way. And how he'd have worried for both him and his brother had it not gone well.

He lets them feel that he’d have been scared, had he not been able to sense the truth of their intentions, and how he’d never gotten the support from the family he’d been born into that he’d needed. Not since he was young and his mother died. How his team had become his family, Pegasus, his home, and Todd, his brother. And Todd’s family was now his own, supporting him the way he’d never been in the Milky Way, because it was not where he belonged.

“No matter what happens, Colonel, you belong in Pegasus. This is your home. It has been since the moment you stepped through the Stargate. You’ve found your place here. And with your people, came the changes my brother has been waiting for, to make changes for a better future. You and he have much in common. I’m glad he has a friend like you. So I too, only wish to see you safe.” He says.

“I’m going with you. So it’s not too much new stuff all at once. But once you get back to Atlantis, we should both start packing what we need. I can’t make you go, but we gotta come up with something. Some way to make sure it doesn’t get that bad again. Could have died of shock or blood loss had we not found you sooner. If Todd didn’t know how to sew you up. Hypothermia. Even if you can’t stop you completely, we need to take some preventative action, and we want you to be able to come to us if you do need help instead of running like you did today.” Ronan says.

John looks around the small shelter, seeing Ronan sitting and drinking tea with his least favorite of their allies and agreeing to go to their home world because he was taking the situation, and the way it needed to be handled for him to not lose his home, seriously. So he takes a deep breath. And he nods.

“Okay. I’ll go. I appreciate you going to all the effort to keep this off the books. But how do you know that Mr. Woolsey would okay that?”

“I must confess, some of what I spoke with General O’Neil with was how this would be handled officially, so I plan to propose this to him directly. He does not want you to lose your post John Sheppard. He’ll approve this.”

He runs his hands through his hair and nods. “This was why you had an Atlantis issue first aid kit the other day, isn’t it?” he finally asks.

Todd nods his head. “Yes John. I also spoke with Dr. Heightmeyer, and she suggested I have someone here to support each of us. I wanted to learn how to respectfully address this in human culture. When I’ve struggled with this, someone was always there when I was done to care for me as needed, and were able to keep me safe. And I can only use this telepathic link if you allow it, but it’s how Kenny keeps an eye on me. But, I wanted to get a better idea of what you would need when we were having this talk.”

“So what you told me about your son?” John asks.

“Tommy has a history with this too. He lost his first love when he was still young. Lost a parent. Spent part of his childhood with both us missing and no answers. I wanted a human perspective on this as much as I wanted to know best to help you. And I learned that human parents don’t always react with empathy to struggles like ours. And from what I can tell, based on what you’ve told us tonight, you didn’t get much empathy from those who raised you. Not out loud, but in our mind. We all want you to know what family should be though, and have the support and acceptance you need to heal.” Todd says. “Something I’d have never had the chance to do myself, had you not freed me.”

They sit there for a moment, Kenny pouring more tea for them, drinking in peace and understanding, before finally, Todd feels a nudge against their minds.

John was opened to the bond now. So he wanted to know if he was able to learn their names. Their true names. Todd smiles and inclines his head, opening himself to his human brother for the first time.

Letting him feel who he truly was. Letting his warm presence wash over him in waves. Feel the presence of of a pathfinder. Of safety. Unorthodoxy and tradition. Of ageless wisdom. Of one who walked a lonely path so others could cross it safely. One who goes before.

A Guide.

A Sheppard.

A brother, who shared his vision for the future, struggles, and creed. And his name.

A name that smelled of Sweet Grass.

Chapter Text

The coming days were rough for John, and after his talk with Todd, no, not Todd, Guide, And his brother Bonewhite, and Ronan, there had been more talks. None of them had been easy, nor had he been feeling well. Guide had declared that he had an infection when he woke that morning, his injuries burning each time he moved. It made getting far enough from camp to use the bathroom excruciating.

Teyla had come to bring him breakfast and to speak to him semi privately, and was waiting for him when he got back. He’d already been achy at that point, and she’d noticed the fever checking his forehead, and Guide pulled a dose of antibiotics in a foil wrapper out of his pocket. They’d talked about what had come over him the night before. Some of the things that were uncovered, especially the pictures, and how they had made him wonder about things he may never know, since his mother passed when he was young, and his grandparents passed when he was in his 20’s.

But it had him wondering the extent of how deeply his mother’s side had been touched. How much his own family had lost in 3 generations. His grandparents had childhood memories in a language the son of their daughter never spoke more than a few words of. How he didn’t feel it right to call his grandparent’s people his own. They had moved across an ocean, and for what reason that may have been, he had no way of ever finding out. So much history that was lost, and likely, because of horrible things that happened further back in his family tree.

“I am not Athosian, but I am descended from Athosian blood. And Sataden.” Guide offers softly. “It still affects our clan’s culture. The make up of all our founding members is what distinguishes my clan from other Wraith clans that exist, and the founding members of other’s clans influenced the culture of the clans they propagated. But even deeper than that, my family specifically takes more influence from Athosian and Satedian culture than Taranian or Jenven. There are families in my clan, like my late mate’s, who’s history hailed more from these people, and it affected their family’s interactions with each other, rituals, mannerisms, and even aesthetics. And our children’s upbringing pulled influence from both sides of our family. Those histories helped make us who we are, even if we’ve lost a lot. And it sounds like though you’ve lost much of your own history, you do not forget where your people come from, or the suffering of those who came before you, so you could stand here, in Pegasus, today. It’s part of what makes you who you are. And maybe one day, you’ll learn things you never suspected you’d have a chance to learn. But even if you do not know what happened to your family members, knowing this happened to ancestors on a larger level and seeing similarities here would be upsetting, and you have every right to that. You’ve yet to process not knowing. That, in and of itself, is part of another chapter of loss worthy of grief.”

John smiles at that, finding comfort in his words. He liked that way of thinking of it. He had always had a difficult time figuring out where he stood given the complexity of the issues and his own lack of personal family history as it related to these things, and he knew these things would be important for him to know them before he could consider it right for him to consider his grandparents people his own. Not any more than Guide’s could call himself athosian, growing up on a different planet 3 generations removed from Athos. It was part of his past, but a chapter largely in the dark, and like the Wraith, the journey of his forebears was one of hardship, that he knew, and whatever led them to another side of the planet made it possible for him to be here today, with his team. His family. And his brother. Someone from another galaxy, not even human, who understood him better than anyone he'd known before. He knew this when he had connected to the telepathic bond they had last night. He rested after that talk though. The intellectual and emotional labor had caused his head to start pulsing behind his eyes and temples.

Another difficult talk had been with Rodney, who was shocked, and practically having an anxiety attack until they let him in. It was when the science team returned that same afternoon for lunch. John’s headache was bursting through his skull with the force of the previous night’s lightning by that time, and Guide had stayed with him that morning, making sure he was hydrated and ate, and changing the bandages and cleaning the wounds. John knew he wasn't going to be left alone while they were still here, but he and McKay were trading off at lunch, and he found he was not looking forward to this. He knew Guide was just a thought away though if Rodney became too much.

When he left, it became so awkward, you could cut the tension in the air with a plastic spoon between the two humans left in the shelter. Rodney stammered a bit, trying to say something, anything to break the silence. John held up his hand. “Just don’t. Not until you know what you want to say, Rodney.” The only thing that stopped him from calling the scientist Merideth was the fact he honestly just felt too shitty for the banter that would come along with it. Guess that’s what he got for using his dirty combat knife he’d been using earlier that day to dig into the ground for a fire pit with. But he hadn’t realized how badly he’d gotten himself until he’d gone too far. Had it stayed at his normal depth, infection probably wouldn’t have been a problem. But as he was, he was a liability. To this mission, definitely, and if he didn’t address this, he would be in the long term too.

He was pulled out of his musings when Rodney finally said, “Todd said General O’Neil said you started when your buddy Charlie’s helicopter went down. That was 8 years ago. You’ve been keeping this a secret since 2002?” He asks, trying to understand. That was a bit old for a habit like that to start. But he and Charlie’s relationship was a horribly kept secret amongst Colonel Sheppard’s team.

John shakes his head to this though. “Nah. Started in ‘84.” He felt too shitty to play mental chess with him today. “Stopped for a while though. My recruiter was probably as deep into Narnia as I was though. Stopped around ‘86 for a while. He knew it was my way out of my family bull shit. When my mental health evals started coming in fine after getting depression treatment at 18, they looked the other way with regard to the scars. Packed up for the air force academy in ‘88. Was going to get out in ‘95, then come out, but I was only out for about 6 years before I was recalled.”

“You were recalled?” Rodney asks. “I didn’t know you hadn’t planned to stay in the military.”

“Yep.” John says. “I wasn’t always career driven, believe it or not.”

Rodney cuts him off with, “I believe it.”

John rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I served in the Afghanistan civil war. I was recalled after we went to war in 2001 because I knew the layout of the land already. So back in the closet at that point. I’d already divorced at that point, and started seeing Charlie on the downlow. He was still on active duty. After he died though, I just stayed in.”

Rodney stops at this. Thinking about what to say. “So the habit started back up after losing Charlie?” He asks.

John nods. “Stopped when we came to Atlantis. Started back up again after returning to earth again though.”

“Did something happen there?” Rodney asks.

John took his lunch at this point and started eating it instead of answering, finishing the MRE chili before pouring more of the tea Guide had prepared for him before leaving.

After taking a sip, he finally nods, not sure how to unpack this. “David. My half brother. He took over my father’s utility company after he died. They started working on new ways of generating power.”

“Yeah well, they're trying to find all kinds of alternatives to fossil fuels.” Rodney starts, but John cuts him off, holding up a hand.

“Their working with the military Rodney. On zero point energy generation. A way to recharge dead ZPM’s. He has clearance about the Stargate program. It kinda fucked me up. Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye about my personal life.” John says.

“And David’s the same way?” Rodney asks.

John shrugs. “We don’t really talk. He blamed me for dad and I not getting along. I guess he didn’t know until our father’s funeral. Nancy must have told him about Charlie. He was weird about it. Awkward, but trying to accept me. He wants to mend bridges, or so he says, but if things don’t go well, I can’t just hide behind work any more.”

“I kind of felt the same way Jeannie started helping us out. With her matter bridge proof. Freaked out a bit. I’m not depressed, but I have anxiety. Even just speaking to her that first time made it feel like I was going to puke or have a heart attack. Maybe both.” He says.

“You don’t say.” John quips.

McKay rolls his eyes. “Try not to act so surprised. But it only did good things for our relationship in the long run. He’s not your dad, and you're not the person you're not your dad’s words projected you to be. You said before he always acted like you were irresponsible, childish, and incapable of making any serious decisions right? Well, now he’ll realize that you just couldn’t tell him just how much responsibility you actually shoulder. Maybe.”

“I don’t know Rodney. Maybe. Or maybe it will all go south, like it always does where my family is involved. My real family is here. In Pegasus.” he says, taking another deep drink of his tea. “I just hope it doesn’t end up costing me my job if he outs me or some shit like that. I know policy is more relaxed on Atlantis because it’s so international, but it wouldn’t be the first time they decided to throw the book at me.”

“And some of what’s going on involves family history?” Rodney asks.

“Not shared history. We had different mothers. Same dad. He wouldn’t understand that part of it.” John says.

“Gottcha. I was wondering about that. Ronan said David is quite a bit taller than you. Especially with losing your mother.”

“Yeah, my mom was only 5’1. David's mother and my father divorced after 2 years. He wasn't single long because sometime within that year he married my mom and then I came along. But I still somehow ended up at a normal height, but the bastard's always been taller.” he says.

“Well, we can’t change who SGC chooses as civilian contractors, but I’ll try to schedule us to be off-world when he shows up until you're ready to deal with him. And if he outs you, well, your not the one to tell, and Atlantis is pretty relaxed with military procedure. Maybe they’d terminate his contract for violating DADT. But regardless, I think your position on Atlantis is safe, bi or not, as long as you keep this off the record.” Rodney says, referring to last night’s incident.

“Yeah. I’m going to Todd’s home world when we get back. Saying it’s a personnel exchange. If I’m not on Atlantis, they can’t find out, and I’m going to take some time to get myself together.”

Rodney furrows his brows at this. “Why Todd’s? I mean I’m sure you could get time on earth and take a vacation somewhere. I know you couldn’t get inpatient help right now, but Todd’s?”

John stops here. He wasn’t sure how to word this without giving away too much of Guide’s personal business. He thinks for a moment about how to explain this before saying, “Todd told me last night that his clan doesn’t stigmatize this because of their telepathy. And their culture is more intact than other Wraith clans are. Attitudes have become polarized as some clans shifted into a more aggressive culture, but his clan still has some of the original 100 Wraith from what I can gather. From what he’s saying or thinking. But they can feel and understand someone's pain, know how to help. What to say. What not to. It's an amazing way to communicate. So much more in depth in just a few seconds.”

“Or thinking?” Rodney asks, looking completely horrified at the thought of reading a Wraith's mind.

“It’s the brother thing. The reason I’m considered family in our culture, clan and hive in his, is because of the feeding gift thing. I can tap into the network kinda like Teyla, but it has to be through Todd. I can’t tap into just any nearby Wraith’s thoughts. But their not as dark and scary as you'd think. Surprisingly wholesome and wise.”

“So Todd’s like your wifi signal and your like a laptop, whereas Teyla’s more like a bluetooth signal, reaching out to every nearby device.” Rodney says.

“If you say so. You’d know better than me. But they use this, telepathy thing, to kind keep an eye on someone and meet them where they're at in the moment. Seems like they address this in a way that’s less distressing than the human mental health care systems that exist. They wouldn’t let it get this far again, and they wouldn’t have to hover outside the bathroom when I’m taking a shower or shit. Someone would just, I don’t know, show up when I’m not okay I guess.” He says.

“That does sound like it would make something like this easier to address appropriately. And Todd has experience?” Rodney probes.

“Yes. One of his sons.” John says. “I’m not at liberty to say who. But he has 37 of them so odds are you don’t know him.” That statement was technically true. He didn’t have Tommy’s permission to share that though.

“Wait, 37!” Rodney says, his eyes widening and choking on his water.

“Considering he’s 12,001, I think that number is probably pretty low.” John says, laying down and giving him a look.

“Fair point. Hey, speaking of his sons, isn’t Tommy one of the ones who was there when they blew up my space station?” Rodney half accuses? “How did he survive?”

“Same way as me. I don’t know if it was out of desperation to live or what, but he was near me, and had the same idea, and when I made it to the airlock with the jumper, he was by the door and managed to connect with me in my brain for a moment. I knew he was Todd’s kid and that he hadn’t been a willing participant. And that he was young. And he just wanted to go home to his dad. So we got ourselves into the space suits, and before the jumper took off, he grabbed the back door and took a ride on the jumper until a cloaked cruiser came and picked him up. Todd was on board. Probably why he was receptive to working with us. Aside from the brother thing, we saved his kid.”

“The baby of the family at that. He’s practically a college kid.” Rodney says with an eye roll, but it was more because he found it entertaining than anything.

John winces at this point when his head flares up to remind him that it still hurt and then looks at Rodney. “You normally carry something for a headache right?” He asks.

“Yeah. Here.” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two packets of Tylenol, and John tosses them back with his tea. His everything hurt. But especially his head and thigh. All his muscles ached with his fever, but the pain in those two places was particularly sharp, and the cumulative effect resulted in one miserable Colonel. So Rodney let him lie down and go to sleep.

He didn’t remember eating that night, but he remembered waking up, wandering off to the restroom, coming back, and the shelter being full of the returned Wraith team, and Guide was ready for him with his evening dose of antibiotics and some Tylenol, and helped him sit before taking them and with a fresh cup of tea.

He was aware of their thoughts, and they were aware of his, but it wasn’t at a specific level. More an awareness of their intentions. He knew the bandages needed changing, and the wounds needed cleaning, but he knew he’d be able to settle in first. He was also aware of their astonishment that he could go out in a tee shirt and his shorts in this weather, and he intentionally sends an image of New England winters to them, and drunken holiday parties where he’d gone sledding in just the shorts and a pair of boots, pulling rumbles of laughter from the group, and flashes of purple, pink and yellow, along with green nostalgia for festive shenanigans.

They let him get comfortable and finish his tea before the two younger ones file out, with their surface thoughts being of gathering firewood from Foresite and Ember thinking of food, though he suspected on a deeper level they intended to give them privacy, and he could also feel Bonewhite’s mind wrapping around himself and Guide to keep this private.

Guide takes out the first aid kit and John feels his every intention along the way as Bonewhite seats himself near the door. He feels him looking for antiseptics, new dressings, and antibiotic cream. Guide ties his hair back, then takes off his coat. He was wearing his green silk clothing set with a thermal layer today, keeping John from seeing the full extent of his scarring, as it shouldn’t be his focus right now. He does push the sleeves up his forearms half way as he grabs some soap and warmed water, along with some sanitary gauze. It was John’s first time getting a good look at them, with the dark last night and them being distracted this morning.

His breath stopped short seeing them. He’d had no idea they were this bad. They hadn’t bled much at first. He’d been too freaked out to realize it was because of the cold. Not because he’d not cut deep enough. When his thigh and shoulder started bleeding heavily, he’d noticed his mistake. But he hadn’t realize just how badly he’d fucked up.

He realized now that he’d truly put his life in danger, in several ways, seeing how deep they were. The stitching wasn’t the prettiest job, but it was done by flashlight during a thunderstorm. Had Guide not been there, last night could have been his last. Despite how badly he’d fucked up though, every touch was gentle as he wounds were washed with mild soap and water, then antiseptic, and treated with antibiotic ointment before being redressed, but despite the care that saved his life, the cuts wept alarming yellow white puss.

He became tired around this time, but had been kept awake long enough to eat something, though what it was, he couldn’t remember. He’d passed out with the bowl of food in his hands, and Guide and Bonewhite had to lay him down to rest for the night.

The next day had evidently been the scariest, not that John could remember it. The temperature had dropped down in the night for what seemed to be an uncharacteristic cold snap for this time of year, and they’d been pelted with freezing rain, and John’s fever had spiked dangerously. Kept him delirious. He hated the idea that anyone had seen him in such a state. Guide had known that by touching his mind though and hadn’t let his team in to visit, and John was grateful. When Guide changed the bandages that morning they weren’t oozing as much alarming fluid and weren’t as inflamed as they had been before, but hadn’t fully scabbed over just yet. Just some clear fluid from his immune system flushing the wound naturally.

It had been a relief to everyone who’d been in the shelter at the time. A more than welcome sight, as was his lowered body temperature. Ronan and Bonewhite had been present at the time, and he felt Guide’s relief that he had turned a corner as soon as he brushed his mind. They’d made the decision to try using a herb Teyla found on the planet to apply topically and it seemed to have done the trick, and Guide quickly passed the information about the change in his condition to Rodney and Teyla, as well as Ember and Foresite.

He had yet to have a conversation with Guide’s children, but he knew that they needed to talk too. Especially him and Tommy. No doubt this situation had probably been difficult to him, especially when his only remaining parent rushed out after him in the cold because of an issue that was all too personal to him.

He feels his brother brush his mind with approval at the idea and mentally blushed a bit. He hadn’t realized he’d left the link open. Nevertheless, he was glad to know such a conversation would be appropriate, and spent his time thinking of what he’d like to say until lunch rolled around.

To his surprise, around noon, the two of them walk out, and Bonewhite gestures to Ronan to leave the three of them to talk, and Guide follows them inside a minute or so later, just in case things become rough for Ember. Something John was glad for. He didn’t know Ember that well, but he got the feeling he was more of a sensitive kid. He didn’t want to accidentally upset him.

Todd inclines his head and mentally prompts him to choose whether he would prefer to have this conversation via the link or spoken, and John glances at them and sends him a questioning almost mental poke, and he looks over to the two younger wraith, before opening a link to them, and Ember says, “Both would probably make this most comfortable for all parties present.”

John smiles to this and nods his head. “Yeah. Probably. This whole mind reading thing is new to me.”

“It’s not exactly mind reading.” Foresite says with a frown.

“No, but there really aren’t appropriate terms in spoken word, like calling you Foresite detracts from your name’s true meaning, so we call you Stan instead. Though for him, I imagine it’s a bit like us learning to speak out loud. Like the sound of your own voice and voices around you filling your ears, when you're used mostly to silence, except for them, it’s the mind, not the ears, that’s used to the absence of chatter.” Guide explains and gives him a look that reads as a parent telling their child to remember to be patient and mind his manners.

Foresite rolls his eyes to that, but accepts it, though John could tell the younger Wraith were upset by the turn of events that this mission had taken, and he could feel how worried they had each been for Guide. Not just because they were worried about hypothermia. They had been worried about his habit too. That losing someone he cared about as kin would cause it to start up again. And they were understandably upset that Guide had been placed in the position he had been in order to save him. But still, they were glad that he was okay.

He looks over at Guide again. He wasn’t sure where to go with this conversation. Guide takes the lead here. “John will be returning to the hearth planet with us. The way his military would react to this would be unfavorable.” He sends him what he knew of the potential outcomes through the link.

“Now?” Ember asks. “We can’t wait a week or so and have someone bring him by gate?”

Guide shoots him a look. “I fully understand your concern, however, a week may be enough time for discovery. It should only take me a day at most. Probably only several hours.”

“What’s going on?” John asks, sensing the tension.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I will tell you once I’ve taken care of it. I’ve been putting it off a while though and it is important I see to it as soon as I’m back.” He says as Ember shot him a look that said it was none of his business.

John just leaves it at that, catching Ember’s drift just fine. Nevertheless, they had a conversation to finish.

“Look, I’m sorry for putting your father in danger. When you got into the system and pulled up the information on the first Wraith, the pictures reminded me of something that happened in the part of the world my family came from. Something that likely happened to people I’m related to, and I really lost my head. Your father said that I need to take the time to work through this before I can see to my other responsibilities. And he’s right. It wasn’t just myself that I placed in danger. I put your Father and your Uncle at risk as well as Ronan. And if anything happened to them because of my dumb decisions, that would have been on me. If you lost a family member, it would have been my fault. It was reckless, and I’m sorry for doing this to your Father, and to you. I know that it had to bring up a lot of feelings for you and probably a lot of them bad. I’m sorry if this caused you unwelcome urges or memories. You are young, and I should not have exposed you to something like this.”

Ember’s face softened slightly and he offered John a smile, sensing his honesty with this. “I do not hold a grudge. However, if you come to our home John, you have to truly commit to improving. My father has made many sacrifices in his life. Some were at an unfair advantage, and I don’t want to see his kindness taken advantage of. None of us want anything serious to happen to you John, but if something does happen, I don’t want my father to be in the position where he’s the one to find you, and to have to explain to your friends and family what happened. He’s cradled enough corpses in 12,000 years.”

He senses that Ember’s apprehension comes from knowing how hard it was to quit, and worry for his family. Worry about how quickly after they'd all become attached to someone who wasn’t receiving the gift. Was aging. Would die. Far far too soon, regardless of whether he got his habit under control or not.

“I would consent to receiving the gift, if I had time to think about it. It’s just that, well, this letting people in thing isn’t something that’s easy for humans. We’re used to having the ability to keep things private, and what comes through the link when you're fed on or gifted seems to be really random.” He says, trying not to think of specific embarrassing things.

Given Ember’s blush and Foresite’s glance at the door, something had made it through the link. Guide smirks at him though and pours everyone some tea. “That’s why it’s reserved for brothers, or in the case of other factions, worshipers. It is an act of trust, though easy to exploit. However, the memories and thoughts that are exchanged during the gift do not bleed into the hive mind on a larger scale. It is the physical contact and enzyme that causes it to become such an overwhelming experience. I suspect that we saw what we saw of each other's memories was because we are both, in a sense, widowers, and both reminded of our loss in the situation we escaped. You may not have ever been allowed a formal or legal ceremony, but your relationship with him was the same. If anything, all it means is that we found someone who walks a path that is often lonely. When you're used to walking forward on your own, one step at a time, letting others walk beside you only makes the idea of being alone again that much scarier. It’s my greatest fear. But the memories we saw were precious John. Not a thing of shame. You loved Charlie, and wanted to spend your forever from him.”

He could feel that this hit home for John when he said it. “I can promise you, you will not be abandoned by my clan. Mine didn’t know where to look for me or how to find me when I went missing, but they never stopped looking. You are family to me now John. No matter how embarrassing, shameful, regretful, or horrifying our pasts are. Or how bitter sweet our memories may be. If you chose to extend your life by accepting the gift, with time, you’ll come to see that there truly is no judgment from me. But Ember’s worries about how short you live are things we all worry about when we take a human as a brother. And we hope with time, you’ll accept it. You could live thousands of years John. And you would not be alone for them. We would be there for you, for as long as you choose to accept the gift.”

“Well, I guess it’s sweet of you guys to not want me to die.” John says, his usual joking tone coloring his words, but his feelings through the bond did not lie. Gratitude. True gratitude, but also unworthiness that came in flashes of navy blue.

Foresite was the one to nip that. “You are not unworthy of the gift of life John. I can see limitedly into other variations around us. Yet the only ones I saw where my father escaped from the Genii, you escaped with him. You are perhaps, the only person worthy of being a brother to my father. Were it not for you, he’d never have been able to return to us.”

This statement shocked John, and he wasn’t sure how to argue with that. The feeling was still there to a degree, though it did lessen. Foresite seemed satisfied with the degree it decreased and looks over at his brother, who at least seemed eased by this, though not entirely reassured that they wouldn’t end up hurt for accepting this human into their family. That’s not to say he wasn’t excited that there were more members of the family. He just didn’t want them all to be hurt and grieving when his time came. He supposed it was a bit like getting emotionally attached to a hamster to him.

He feels Ember’s curiosity regarding hamsters, and he supplies him with memories of his childhood pets, how much joy they brought him, but also how painful it was when he lost them. Ember nods his head to this. “I suppose this is why many wraith do not wish to make a human their brother, and why so many insist that humans are not their equal. Not only does it make feeding harder for them, were they to view you that way, getting attached to one who won’t accept the gift is knowing that you’ll be losing someone who brought joy and happiness in a few short years. But I’d say comparing your species to a hamster isn’t fair to you. Not that the creature you showed me isn’t delightful. But it does not form relationships the way sentient species do. You have complex emotions and feelings, like us. It’s much harder to let someone like that go.”

John nods at this. He could only imagine how much harder it would be to let go of someone he could talk to and interact with that would live their whole lives in 2 years. “Well, what the hell? I’m sure that I’ll wanna stick around a lot longer anyway. As soon as it’s approved, I’ll make sure that I don’t end up as your Dad’s hamster. Wouldn’t want him grieving me so soon.” He says.

Ember looks relieved at that and sends a wave of pale, seafoam green that feels like gratitude and relief. John inclines his head to the right and closes his eyes in a way he’d seen the wraith doing and Ember does the same, before going to get each of them lunch.

Once the air was cleared with the younger Wraith who were off world with them, time seemed to pass quickly. He did spend quite a bit of time sleeping, and when it got easier to move, helped out around camp with whoever was his designated babysitter. He didn’t go back to the outpost either. He couldn’t bring himself to step inside the building people had been, as the records indicated, unwillingly transformed. Rodney had told Atlantis that he’d gotten a fever and was dealing with quite a bit of soreness, but that it had cleared up, though Dr. Beckett insisted they return as soon as possible for a checkup. He’d have to let him in on Guide’s plan. But after 5 days, the water receded and they finally went back to Atlantis.

John mostly zoned out during mission debriefing, and while Guide and his hive started preparing everything for the journey home, to their hearth planet, and he was sent to see Dr. Beckett.

When he gets there he sits down on one of the beds and when Carson approaches him. John takes a deep breath and gestures to the curtain. Carson closes it and frowns. “Everything okay Colonel?” he asks quietly, realizing privacy was more than just a flimsy piece of cloth. A sign of his good bedside manner.

“Can we keep some of this off record?” John asks.

“Well doctor patient confidentiality only extends so far. Are you a danger to yourself or others?” He asks.

“Yes. But I have a plan in place to get help unofficially. As long as it can be kept off record.” He says.

“Right then. Well, I’ll scan instead of running a physical. Is there anything I should omit from the scanner?” he asks.

“Lacerations.” he says. Of course that rung some bells in the back of his mind as soon as it came out of John’s mouth. He recalled his conversation with Todd Last week. “Ronan and I are going to the hearth planet. Todd and I have this telepathy deal going on because of the brother thing. He gets it. And with the telepathy he could keep an eye on things. Help me work through some of my own shit I never really got a chance to. And I can’t exactly do that here. He has to go back anyway. He said he had some kind of family business he’s been putting off. May be a good chance to learn about their culture too.” he says and kinda looks at the curtain the whole time. “Little guy, basically a teenager, was pretty adamant they go back.”

“The one with the chin tattoo?” Carson asks as he programs the scanner and hums in thought.

“Yeah. We’re calling him Tommy. He’s only 1,804. Todd’s 12,001. Crazy to think Todd’s lived over 10 of his lifetimes, and Tommy’s already lived 24 of ours. Give or take.” John muses, impressed by their longevity. It wasn’t the first time. It was only one of many. And there were sure to be many more times to come.

Carson looked impressed, but also a bit distracted. “Do you know how long Todd was in the bunker?” He asks.

“He said about two hundred years.” John answers. “Poor kid lost a parent when their darts went down from what I gather.”

“So when his youngest was around 1,600. I’m guessing that’s maybe about 16 years.” Carson says. “Well, as far as emotional control goes and physical development, in some ways. Adolescence is different for them than us though. But still, awful young to be without them. Makes me all the gladder you two escaped together.” he says. All the gladder, when he did the math regarding the conversation he had with Guide, the younger Wraith’s insistence they return home, and the information it was family related.

“I have an idea of why he may need to return. It’s not my business to say, though I’ll insist he’s allowed to return when whatever it is the two of you are planning is proposed. I’m guessing tomorrow morning?” Carson finally asks, finishing the programing and running it over his body, and John nodded his head. “No signs of infection. As far as I’m concerned, you're clear to travel.” he says.

“Thanks. I appreciate you backing us up on this.” He says.

“If this were on the record Colonel, it could be your job. And there’s nobody who could do it better than you can. But I’m glad you're taking some time to take care of yourself.” he says.

“Thanks Carson. I’m going to go take a shower and get some rest. Todd changed the bandages before we left, so I’m fine there. Thanks for showing him how to patch me up.” he says and pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m glad to hear I could help. Take care of yourself John. I’ll be in your corner tomorrow during the meeting. For now, keep on resting. The infection cleared your body, but the cells are still repairing themselves from the damage the bacteria caused. Keep taking the antibiotics Dr. McKay said Todd started you on, twice a day, for another two days. Stay hydrated, and make sure you eat when taking these medications. And for God’s sake son, don’t stay up all night listening to Johnny Cash again, you need to let your body heal.”

“Yes Mom.” John says and gives him one of those John Sheppard smirks before he takes off down the hall and leaves Carson shaking his head, getting the distinct feeling he planned to stay up and drink beer while listening to Johnny Cash until two in the morning.

And While Dr. Beckett’s suspicions had proved correct, if Ronan’s bitching about John’s loud music had been anything to go by, the Colonel looked awake and refreshed, and was fresh faced. Dr. Beckett takes his seat in the meeting room and gives John a look. “I didn’t stay awake listening to music all night. I went to sleep listening to music all night.” He says with his usual smirk.

At that point, everyone in the room takes their seats, John, Ronan and Carson were there obviously, and Guide and Bonewhite were there as well. Doctors Jackson, Zelenka and McKay were also present. General O’Neil was attending as well as Mr. Woolsey. Foresite and Ember file in a moment later, along with a couple more Wraith who were part of the scientific delegation, as well as Shade and Burning Heart.

Guide and his Wraith bow in their formal military greeting before taking their seats, and Jack nods his head at him as he clears his throat, bringing the room to attention.

“So, I’d like to start by going over what we’ve come up with that will actually work and some projects we already started. Bring everyone up to speed. Especially those of you who got trapped off world for a week. Dr. Zelenka, why don’t you update Dr. McKay and Todd’s team about what we’ve been working on?” he asks.

Dr Zelenka nods and pulls out his tablet, projecting it onto a display so that everyone can see.

“Right. So what we’ve accomplished so far is we’ve determined several viable projects from our list. You’ll see these things in the column on the right. These are things we’ve already started, like hyperdrive improvements and shields. We have the shields done already, so you should be able to make it to wherever you're going next in record time.” he says. “We’ve also started on creating an immune system for the Daedlaus. That’s going to take time to grow and test. But it’s worked in all the simulations, and once it’s implemented, biomass from that system could be programmed to rapidly fill breaches to the haul.”

John looked pretty bored after a while with all the technobabble and seemed to be watching the clock. Guide noticed this and mentally jabs him, as negotiations regarding his return for further exchange began.

“Well, I am impressed by the progress we’ve made, but I must return to my hearth planet today to arrive on schedule. I would like to leave two of my sons here to assure our projects progress well, and have two of your people come with me so we can train our people to work together. I would like for it to be John that comes along since he’s well versed in your military’s procedures.” He looks at Jack for a moment when he says this, but Richard says, “Pick someone else. Only way John can go is if you stay.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Woolsey. But I cannot stay, and I will not accept anyone other than John Sheppard.” Guide insists, then looks over at John. Mentally, it felt like jumping into a cold lake. Just had to leap off the dock and plunge in.

“I’d rather the Wraith I know won’t eat me be there than one I don’t. Besides, I’ll bring Ronan.” John says, leaning back in his chair.

“Okay, well that changes everything.” Mr. Woolsey says sarcastically.

Todd bears his teeth but Carson cuts everyone off and looks at Todd. “Forgive me if I overstep my bounds son, but I do believe it’s imperative that you return home.” The wraith snarls at this, but nods his head. He had to agree that Dr. Beckett’s assessment was correct.

“This much is true. However, because this is a planet where we reside, there is a big civilian population, I insist it's the person I know the most well. Many families from my clan live here. It’s been thousands of years since it’s been visited by a person who wasn’t Wraith. I would only allow it to be someone I trust around our children and civilians. And this would give Ronan the chance to meet a Wraith of the original 100 who came from Satada. I feel that this would probably do a lot to help ease relations between our people. And as I said, two of my sons will stay behind to ensure the safety of your people, as well as help coordinate with projects.”

“Your own sons?” Jack asks. Guide nods to this and gestures for them to stand up. “This is my first born and my twenty-ninth. They are a political strategist and conscientious objector respectively. I feel that their temperament would be more agreeable than a soldier, and they’ve both some understanding of our sciences and they’d be of help to guide our research and development moving forward.”

“Well how does Ronan feel about this?” Rodney asks, taking a step back from the politics for a moment.

“Looking forward to talking to this guy honestly. Besides, if Sheppard goes, someone needs to make sure he can get out of trouble. I’d say stay out of, but it’s Sheppard. He goes looking for it.”

“I see no reason to decline a personnel exchange. Especially if it means training our people to work together. John, do you want to go? I won’t order you to do this, but if you want to go, I’ll put it down as a mission for you.” Jack asks.

“Hell yeah sir.” John says. Richard rolls his eyes, inevitably thinking something about how the boys could never resist exploring alien worlds. He'd even read the report about the misadventure exploring a crashed Wraith ship.

“Just stay out of trouble. You and Ronan go pack your things. And rest while in hyperspace. Dr. Beckett said you're still recovering. Also, Todd, we’ll need the coordinates to your planet. We’re not going to just send our people away with no idea where they're going.” Mr. Woolsey concedes.

Guide nods his head to this. “Of course Mr. Wollsey. It’s no problem at all to provide that information. I want to build trust between our people. And that starts with our leaders. I thank you for allowing us this.”

“What should we call your sons?” Teyla asks.

“You may give each of us a suitable human moniker. Our name loses meaning when spoken, so we don’t often speak them out loud.” Burningheart says.

“How about Ronnie and Freddie?” John says.

“If you find those names suitable, you may address us as such.” Shade says, curling his lips up in a smile, but not showing his teeth. He didn’t desire to come across as threatening.

“Okay then Ronnie, so you and Freddie stay here when Ronan and I on your hearth planet, and when they drop us off, they pick you up?” John asks.

“Indeed.” Freddie says this time, inclining his head, a flourish more flamboyantly than his brother. No question where he got that from.

“Okay. Sounds good to me. John, Ronan, go ahead and pack your bags. Your dismissed.” Jack says.

“Yes sir.” John says and salutes him before him and Ronan head out to their personal quarters and start packing up.

It felt unreal as it did the first time he stepped through the stargate, but he packed what he would need quickly, heading out and stepping onto the pier, where the ships were landed, right where he and Guide had spent their nights drinking and watching the stars. He found himself looking forward to seeing what the stars would look like on his brother’s planet.

When he and Ronan arrive, Guide and his children were waiting at the entry ramp. And John smiles, greeting them from youngest to oldest, as Guide recorded the whole thing. First he places his hand on a very shocked Ember’s chest, and one behind his head, leaning their foreheads together His expression was shocked, but he sent Guide a sour look, knowing he'd won the betting pool. Next, he moved onto BurningHeart, who had several bags of his own sitting on the pier, and greets him in the same way. A hello and an until later. Next he repeated the gesture with Foresite, who returned it, as his brothers had, and inclines his head in approval when he pulls away. Then Mystify who smiled and looked like he wanted to say something but was struggling to find the words, before sending him a flash of rainbow joy and relief. He could tell his father had been worried about a friend, and that the friend had agreed to let his dad help him. He didn't know the details, but if it would make his Father happy, he was happy. Frostfire was second to last, and returned the gesture as well, and takes John's bag up the ramp. He was aware of the reasons why, since he'd seen a flash before his uncle managed to shield it, and didn't want him to pop a stitch. This was his father's brother. So he was family, and would treat him as such. Finally, he turns to Shade, who he sent a flash of gratitude to. He had been made aware of the reason they had planned this exchange, and was more than happy to help. And happy his father had found a kindred spirit. Next, he turns to Bonewhite, who had accepted him as his own brother through Guide, and feels a flash of deep red acceptance and pride, and finally, to Guide, who finished recording by that time, and he holds the greeting longer than any of his kids had and presses their noses together, letting his relief and pride flood his mind that John was taking such a big step, and that they had finally come to trust each other completely.

John brushes his mind in return, reminding him to cut him in on the winnings of the bet, and his gratitude for his willingness to help, and for his acceptance into this family, in a way he'd never had a family before to support him. Then he steps on board the ship. It didn’t seem like the simple action of stepping on board yet another space ship was so significant, given how many times he had done it. But He knew. And so did Guide.

He wasn’t just stepping onto his ship. He was moving forward toward a better future. He was taking a step to get the help he needed. From someone who understood more than anyone else possibly could.

Guide was a friend.

A brother.

Family.