![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Author: Flaim aka Darkfalconheart
Story: You can run with us. (16/?)
Pairing: nothing as of yet.
Rating: for this chapter: 13 , may be higher in later chapters
Warnings: some violence
Status: WIP
Spoilers: Up to ‘The lost tribe’.
Wordcount: ca. 4500
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or other various parts of the SG/SGA universe and all rights are with their respective owners. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s note: I owe thanks to John for bringing up the solution for Carson’s dilemma and for his patience with me. Thanks so much! The chapter got a little more of our favourite Wraith than originally intended, John. I hope you like it!
Chapter 16: The face of your enemy
I'm living my life in spiralling gyres
that move over things sighing by.
I never may reach the last of the spires,
but still my resolve is to try.
I revolve around God, the ancient expanse -
for thousands of years, I can tell -
and yet I know not, what I am to be thence:
A falcon? A storm? A chorale?
(Rainer Maria Rilke: I’m living my life in spiralling gyres)
The room wasn’t a cell per se, John would have called it an odd version of living quarters, had the door not been firmly locked. What was odd about the place, was that it nearly looked like it was created with human inhabitation in mind. Perhaps he had been thrown into the rooms usually reserved for a worshipper. Thrown was the wrong word too, he had not been thrown, rather led to this place, by two guards watchful but oddly respectful. John’s body was aching, even with what Todd had done to lift the pain, there was a soreness in his muscles, a sneaking pain, that could not be talked away.
Seeing something remotely resembling a washbasin John dragged himself over. He was thirsty and tired, some water would be welcome. He really found the basin filled with clear water. His own reflection mirrored clearly in the basin. John nearly jumped, he still could not understand the change that had come to him: his face was still his face, yet if he had been forced to guess his own age, he’d trouble to do so. The face he saw in the water was leaner than he remembered his own face, like he had been reduced to the essence of his being, yet it was unmistakably himself. More so than he might like to admit with the experience that lay behind him.
Brother. The word left a hollow echo in his mind. The first time Todd had called him that had been after they had escaped Kolya’s prison. Back then, Sheppard had not thought much of it. But in the end Todd had been right: There was much what Sheppard did not know about Wraith. If he was completely honest, he did not even know if Todd had something like a real name. <Tharishaár. Your guess was not so bad, Sheppard.>
John’s hands gripped the rim of the basin hard, to prevent himself from falling. The voice he had heard in his mind, was Todd’s…the voice of the Wraith Lord. How was this possible? Had Ronon heard it too? Trying to reach out to Ronon in his mind, he found only emptiness. <The link was severed when you died and were revived. The spark burned it out of you.>
John scowled. He had come to accept the remnant link with Ronon’s mind. But having a Wraith laking in his head was another thing. <So now you have access to my mind? Tharishaár, no offence but I am a rather private person.>
It felt like he was hearing a faint chuckle in his mind. <You are not, Sheppard, you are shouting on the top of your mind. And I am not linked with you – I can hear your surface thoughts, and speak to you the same way.>
John staggered the few steps away from the basin and sat down on the bunk on the other side of the room. So the High Wraith were even more telepathic than the Queens were, small wonder if they had enough Ancient DNA. The whole room seemed to be turning around him.
<You are exhausted, you lived and died in the span of an hour. Find rest.>
Albeit John wished to tell Todd that he should stop talking to him, and he found the fact that the Wraith might care even more bothersome, he could not deny the logic of the suggestion. He was exhausted, too exhausted to even think straight. Sliding down on the bunk he was asleep before he had stretched down fully.
***
The next time John awoke he felt far better, for a moment he wondered if all this, Todd feeding of him, the odd effect it had on him or seemed to lack to have, had been a nightmare. But he was still in the room where he had fallen asleep, they were unchanged with the exception that someone had left a tablet with food and water beside his bed. Lt. Col. John Sheppard would probably have refused to touch the food no matter how hungry he was. The Runner John had no such hesitations, he needed to keep up his strength, and who knew when he would get the next change to have something to eat? John stared at the tablet, puzzled. Had he really changed so much? Had survival and sheer pragmatism changed him so deeply? Yes, it had, he admitted. And he had stopped making gestures, your survived and kept it together to the moment you could really do something. Everything else was useless chatter. Without further ado be began to clean his plate.
When he was done, the door opened. The same guard that had led him in here the evening before, entered. “Come with me.”
John rose from his seat and walked to the door. Outside he saw the other guard from last night waiting for him. Walking between them another trip through the ship began. “So you two are to guard me, huh? Make sure I don’t get lost?” John began one of those conversations that, with Wraith, were doomed to stay one-sided. He did not know why he was still trying, experience had told him that it was hard to rile Wraith up with words. “I don’t guess you have names, do you?” He would come up with nicknames for them, should he spend too much time under their guard.
“Ashaviiýr,” the one walking to his left replied, then pointing with his head to his comrade. “Sherachhvhar.”
The answer startled John. Not only had the Wraith deigned to talk to him, he had actually told him his name and the one of his comrade. He had no chance to ponder the fact longer, because before him a huge door slid open and he was led in a familiar type of room. He had seen such a room before: it was the Wraith equivalent of a med station. Three more Wraith were present there, waiting respectfully in the background. One of the guards – Ashaviiýr again – pointed to ‘bed’ in the middle of the facility.
John shook his head. “No thanks, I am quite fine, despite the little feeding adventure.” He said. Whatever they wanted, the day he needed a Wraith doctor would be a day hell froze over! Half did he expect to be grabbed and tossed on the table, both guards were absolutely capable of handling him if they set their mind to it. But nothing of that kind happened.
Instead the other guard talked shortly into something that might be Wraith communication device. Some minutes went in silent waiting. John wondered if the Wraith were just testing if he would change his mind. But then the doors of the infirmary opened again, and Todd, no: Tarisháar strode in. The three wraith in the background bowed deeply, the two guards saluted. Tarisháar waved the guards to retreat some steps. He himself stopped right opposite of John. “I was told, you resist the healers, Sheppard.” He said in amused tones. “Are you so keen on keeping the tracker?”
John’s mind was spinning. “You…you would remove it?” He stammered. “Why?”
“Because I do not tolerate transgressions against a brother,” was the cryptic answer. “some of my troops, led by one of my most trusted commanders, are closing in on the hive who did this to you, as we speak.”
A soft shake went through the ship, John knew it meant they had just dropped out of hyperspace. A com flared to life, he could not understand what was said, but it was obviously a message Todd, Tarishaár had expected. “The healers will take care of you.” He said before he strode out of the infirmary.
John slowly sat down on the treatment bed, trying to get a grip on what had just been said. Of all things he might have expected or guessed, he’d never believed it was the Wraith themselves that would remove the tracker again. One of the healers approached him, in his hands a small pot with a steaming brew inside. He said something in the hissing language of the Wraith. “This will numb the pain.” Sherachvhár translated. “It can’t take away the pain completely, lest the danger of doing nerve damage during the removal is too great, but it will make it bearable.”
“I can handle a little pain.” John replied, taking the pot and drinking the brew. It tasted awful, somehow foul and bitter. “Argh, do you have some water?” he asked when he was finished. Ashaviiýr hissed in low tones, and one of the healers handed John a pitcher with water. Gratefully John emptied most of it, it took the foul taste out of his mouth.
Resting stretched on the bed John tried not to be nervous. Sure, he was under some painkiller, but he wasn’t out cold. Years ago he had watched Dr. Beckett removing a tracker from Ronon. The runner had refused sedation. Back then John had not even liked watching the scene, but having someone cutting his own back open, while he was awake, freaked him out. To distract himself he turned his head to the side, where Ashaviiýr was standing guard. “Is it true – there are troops on the way to the hive?” His eyes darted up, indicating his shoulder and the tracker. He didn’t expect Ashaviiýr to answer him, but as long as he kept himself distracted from the proceedings things were fine.
“It is true.” The Wraith replied. “The attack should be in full swing by now. Sherachvhár has three nest-brothers with the dart-wings onboard Jhashistaár-Hive.”
“Nest brothers?” John took gladly to the conversation, it kept his mind occupied, allowed him to ignore the pain, and the operation on his back.
“Wraith born from the same breeding nest,” Ashaviiýr explained. “most Wraith have five to seven nest-brothers. It is similar to siblings among human cultures. Pair-brothers are far more rare, but there is a fair number of them.” He obviously saw John’s puzzled glance because he went on: “Pair-brothers are two Wraith born from the same breeding-nest, that are identical in looks. The human term, I believe is: twins. Single births almost never occur.”
John let the information sink in, so Wraith had something like families, brothers born from the same nest. It was a far cry from human family terms, but then it would have been unlikely that they had no social structures at all. “And you? Do you have brothers?” He asked, to keep the conversation running, he convinced himself.
Ashaviiýr’s Wraith face changed to an expression hard to interpret for John. “My pair-brother is leading the attack on the hive.” Was the answer. “he has orders to bring in the Wraith who made you a Runner alive.”
***
Carson Beckett had never been a man to give up easily. It was a trait that had served him well during his captivity with Michael and countless other tough situations he had faced since coming to the Pegasus galaxy. Among the things he never could reconcile with was losing a patient. But what he saw right now was even harder: he knew that he could save this one, if he only could bring him to a decent hospital and perform the surgery necessary. But it was not possible, a small device implanted in the man’s spinal cord made it impossible. And the patient had accepted that long before Carson did. “There is nothing you can do, Doctor.” Jircanor’s voice was controlled, betrayed how hard he fought to keep the pain at bay.
Carson shook his head. “Lad, if I can get those bleedings stopped and you stabilised it will give me some more time, to come up with a solution.” The Scottish doctor was undeterred, albeit a small voice at the back of his mind whispered, that he was fighting a losing battle.
“Time won’t change then outcome,” Jircanor turned his head, to face Carson directly. “I know how much I can take.”
“Lad, at this point I wonder how ye even managed to stay conscious, the pain would have taken down most other men long before.” Carson had offered the runner something against the pain, but Jircanor had refused the medication.
“The meditation of pain teaches us that pain is the one constant in life: as long as we life, we will be in pain, only in death the pain will fade. Once we accept the pain, stop fight it and stop suffering from the fact that we are in pain, it will never rule us again.”
“I for my part, refuse to let others suffer, when they can be saved.” Carson replied grimly.
“What is your name?” The wounded Runner asked all of sudden.
Carson looked up, he had tried to check the bandages as gently as possible, but he needed to be sure, that they would keep the injured ribs in place. “Carson Beckett, why do you ask?” Most cultures they had encountered here in Pegasus accepted healers without much questions, he had rarely been asked for his name in a situation like this.
“I wanted to know the name of the man, who tried to save me.” Jircanor replied slowly. “I might see a battle won tonight, but that doesn’t blind me for the friends I leave behind.”
This time Carson stopped for real. “Beyond the night the battle won?” he quoted in low tones. “is this what you believe? That the battle is truly won, when your life ends?” His mind might understand that in the middle of a constant fight against the Wraith, many inhabitants of the Pegasus galaxy had come to see death as a salvation, but his heart rebelled against it all the more.
Jircanor actually managed to smile. “Do you ever look up to the stars, Doctor Beckett?” he asked.
Carson had returned to taking care of the worst damage. “Often,” he said. “I love to watch the skies in Atlantis, I often did so at home.”
“Most people in Pegasus will never do this,” the Runner spoke easier than before, perhaps because he was distracted. “they fear the dark skies above, it is the realm of the Wraith, doom falls from the starry skies. It’s what makes Runners different: we look up to the sky, we need to watch the starts to know how far out we are. And we don’t fear them anymore: we already know that the Wraith will kill us eventually. Doctor --- Carson: I have known I’ll die for decades now, and I knew the day would come I wouldn’t be able to outrun them. It might not be the way to go, I would have chosen, but we don’t get to chose our birth and our death. And when I die this night, I die knowing I won: I won’t die because they eventually caught up with me, I die knowing I accomplished the mission I chose, so tell me, Carson – who won?”
“Lad, you can be stubborn all ye’ want, I’ll still try and help ye’.” Carson sighed inwardly. Runners! Ronon had been downright easy by comparison.
“Carson – not even all the tech of the Lanteans could save me probably, and I am at peace with that fact. Had I been asked to chose, I would have died a long time again, among my comrades under the gates of Tamaryn palace.”
Not all the tech of the Lanteans… the thought set Carson’s mind spinning. There was a way… a dangerous way… and one that he hardly would get the permission to use. Dr. Weir had banned the device from ever being used again, because of the risks involved. And it might be as well a one way ticked, if Rodney’s solution did not work for him too. Still, it was the solution to this problem. Carson took a deep breath. “Jircanor… listen to me. Ye’ are a mighty stubborn lad, and ye’ will hang on to ye’r life until I am back. Understood?” He said. “I have a plan.”
Jircanor leaned back, casting a questioning glance at Carson. “I’ll wait for you, right here.”
“Good.” Carson could see that the Runner wasn’t convinced, perhaps he even believed that Carson as just getting out of here. “Look – I need one or two hours to prepare.” Carson went on, he couldn’t explain his plan, it would take up too much time. “You will fight for your life, lad.” He said firmly. “And that’s a damn order.”
The Runner’s wry grin surprised Carson. “Understood.”
***
John could still feel the long line on his right shoulder blade where the Wraith healers had cut out the tracker. Whatever they had done to the wound afterwards was as efficient as he could wish for. Except for some minor pain, he was good as new. “The healers have told me of the special nature of your tracking device.” The voice made John jump, he had not realised that Todd, or Tarishaár had entered the room.
“It made sure I couldn’t return to Atlantis.” John had turned around, facing the Wraith Lord. He still was startled by the appearance. Perhaps because he half expected to see the Wraith he knew and remembered, perhaps because something in him still hoped that the more human he looked the less dangerous he might be. A dangerous illusion.
“The commander of my troops reports that the Wraith who did this, has fled to one of the most minor facilities of his hive: a supply depot. He is confident to catch him within the next hours.” Tarishaár couldn’t hide he looked forward to this.
John bit his lip he knew fairly well what a vengeful Wraith was, but had never expected any Wraith to get vengeful because of him. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you even care?”
“As I told you, Sheppard – I do not tolerate transgressions where it comes to a brother.” Todd repeated the sentence John had already known.
“Look – about this whole ‘brother’ thing…” John’s voice trailed off. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or something… but: what the hell happened to me?”
“None of you friends told you?” Tarishaár asked perplexed. “Ronon…”
“Yeah, I know that Ronon made some kind of devil-deal with one of your kind.” John replied. “I don’t know the details – he wasn’t comfortable to talk about it and I respected that.” He remembered Bane onboard the other ship, trying to comfort him. Bane had assumed John had reason to be afraid. “So – what is this ‘spark’? You fed on me, and somehow I am not old and withered and very dead.”
“There are few among humans who have the spark.” Todd replied. “Sometimes there is none among one hundred thousand, and then there might be three among only thousand of you. But in those, who have it, the spark of life is strong, far stronger than among ordinary humans. Their fire can’t be extinguished by a simple feeding. You didn’t age under my feeding, John Sheppard, you died. You died and you came back to live. I drew all the power out of you, but something in your soul would not give in, and your life’s flame burned all the more brighter for it.”
“You say I died… I did only feel pain.” John was confused, especially when he remembered another detail. “But…why did I age when you first fed on me, back in that prison?”
Perhaps it had not been a good idea to bring up that day. It had been one of the hardest and strangest in Sheppard’s life. The day he had found himself allied with a Wraith. Todd did not reply at once, but eventually spoke. “When I saw you there, in the prison, I knew you had the spark. We Wraith can feel it, even among thousands of your kind. The spark sings to us, it shines like a beacon in the night. The light I saw in you would have blinded Kolya, could he see it.” The eyes of the Wraith Lord met Sheppard’s gaze. “I was weakened from my long imprisonment, unable to shed my skin right there and then. And I didn’t want our captor to know you for what you were. So I had to intentionally damage you, force the aging where it was unnecessary. Had I seen another way, I would have done otherwise. We never mutilate our brothers.”
“So, I still CAN age under the feeding, but it won’t happen by itself?” John’s mind was trying to get the facts straight.
“No. Most Wraith who try, will not be able to feed off you at all. Those who still could, will feel my mark and stay away. But even their feeding would not make you age. Only the Wraith who brought you over the brink, kindling the spark in you, can manipulate your physical form.”
The cool touch, numbing out the pain, was still vivid in John’s mind. “So if you were to feed on me again – not that I want that – what would happen?” He needed to know, to understand.
“Nothing. You would feel pain, not as intense as the pain you felt the first time, but in the beginning the pain will be there, your body would remain as it is, except you might find yourself healing faster and regenerating better after a while.”
All the facts together would have been enough to set John mulling over them for a while. But right now he could not afford to do so. “Where are Ronon and Bane?” he asked instead, taking their conversation into a safer direction. He had to think about all this later.
“Bane, the young one, escaped his guards and is hiding out somewhere on this ship. Ronon is in a cell some decks below.” Todd replied. “He is unharmed and well fed. Ashaviiýr will take you to him, if you wish to speak with him.”
“He will?” John could not help it, but the question sounded sheepishly. The Wraith had somehow been less scary, when they had treated him like a prisoner, but like some kind of guest. “No offence, Todd, ah damn it: Tarishaár – what do you want?”
The Wraith Lord remained completely still, his eyes boring into John’s. “One day I will ask your help. But not in exchange for other things.” He said and strode out of the room.
***
“Prepare everything for some field surgery.” Carson instructed Dr. Keller “and have the Marines bring the equipment through the gate. I’ll join them shortly.”
Keller had taken in the instructions calmly and nodded. “Will do, Dr. Beckett. Are you sure that you don’t need assistance? From what I know about Runners…”
Carson waved her words off. “You will be needed here. I have the feeling our team out there will raise more hell than they can safely handle. You take care of them and leave me to my lions.” He knew he was a little harsh on Keller but right now Carson had a hard time to ignore the fear gnawing at his insides.
Leaving Keller to the preparations made his way down into the deeper levels of Atlantis. Striding through the empty corridors his mind played his decision over and over again. What he was trying to do here was madness. It was something a man might undertake to save a friend, but for a stranger…
Carson shook his head. “I’ll take care of my lions.” He stated grimly, speaking to the silence around him. Ever since he had met Ronon Dex in that damned cave, he had wondered why there had been nobody to do for the brave Runner what he had done eventually: removing the device. But most inhabitants of this galaxy seemed blissfully satisfied with staying away from the Runners. Which left the Wraith free reign to do as they pleased: to capture and hunt and make sport of brave men, who would fight back as long as they could, but ultimately stood alone in the face of overwhelming odds. It was what had bothered Carson ever since he had met Ronon. The Wraith could only do as they pleased because nobody opposed them. Because nobody cared or dared to pry those made Runners out of their clutches. Because there was no one, who would step in and say “You can’t have him.” Because the fear had made people look the other way. “Not only are we responsible for what we are doing, but also for what we allow to happened by not intervening.” Carson told the silence of the empty corridor. He stopped as he reached the door. His own reflection mirrored pale in the door. Carson raised his chin. He would not turn back, he would not go and silently accept that another man who fought the Wraith died, alone and unknown. “The true enemy is indifference.”
Determined he entered the ancient lab. It was exactly as he remembered it. Focusing on what he had been taught when he had been working with the command chair and other tech here in Atlantis he stepped into the circle, placing his hands left and right on the device. A spiral of light fell down on him, enveloping him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 04:17 am (UTC)From:and this brothers' relation of John and Todd this very interesting :), I like the names that you have given the Wraith ..^-^..
One more time a great work, with each chapter I get surprised and this history catches me but. xP
Thanks again for amazing chapter
=^-^=
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 11:49 am (UTC)From:thanks again for a nice review and for faithfully reading my story! :)
I am glad you are okay with the Wraith names. I tried to modulate them a little to what I heard in the hissing of them in the series: strong s, ch sounds interrupted by drawn out vowels.
Flaim
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 04:40 am (UTC)From:I've never been so glad to have writer's block, because it allowed me the time to re-read this.
I seriously cannot wait for your next update.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 12:00 pm (UTC)From:YOu say you have a writer's block. With "I am the weapon", I guess? Is it allowed to ask, what the problem is? You last some ep's were beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 07:26 pm (UTC)From:Also, for two guys that are so into each other, I'm having a hell of a hard time getting them into bed together. Writing smut is harder than I thought it would be.
It's super-fun, though. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 07:39 pm (UTC)From: (Anonymous)When it comes to Keller, there might be one trick you might use: by type (petite blonde) and profession she has to remind Ronon of Melena. The confrontation with her, might eventually be the trigger to get over the loss of Melena and to understand that he does not WANT to go back to what he once had. And Keller had the astounding lack of taste to go for Rodney in the end...
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 07:41 pm (UTC)From:Believe me, I know what you mean. Some time in S7 fandom tought me as much.
When it comes to Keller, there might be one trick you might use: by type (petite blonde) and profession she has to remind Ronon of Melena. The confrontation with her, might eventually be the trigger to get over the loss of Melena and to understand that he does not WANT to go back to what he once had. And Keller had the astounding lack of taste to go for Rodney in the end.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 09:58 pm (UTC)From:I kind of like Rodney and Keller together. *shrugs* (probably because if she's with him, she can't go messing with Ronon! Plus, they have Bill Nye along on their dates, and that's just awesome.)
Thanks so much for your help. I friended you, I hope you don't mind.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 10:04 pm (UTC)From:If talking to me helped,I'm glad. I really adore your story about the two of them.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-09 11:05 pm (UTC)From: