Chapter Text
Thirty-seven years before
“Is there something bothering you, Colonel?” Todd muses from his seat on the infirmary bed they'd rolled into the quarantine room. He’s astoundingly calm for someone who’s about to become a walking-talking experiment. “You would think it was you, not I, on this positively uncomfortable bed.”
John, on the other hand, is not. He’s already chewed his thumbnail down to the nub and is gnawing on its sensitive flesh while he paces from the end of the bed to the wall and back again.
And again.
And again.
In a few minutes, Dr. Keller will return with a syringe and needle that could end Todd’s life. They’ve run thousands of simulations but those are just simulations; Todd is real.
“Wearing this ridiculous outfit.” The Wraith laughs and plays his fingers over the sleeve of his backless, paper-thin hospital gown.
John is so in his head, but his mouth still turns up at the comment. It really is a ridiculous outfit on him. It’s way too short, for starts, stopping mid-thigh, and it’s very tight across his broad shoulders which gives the appearance that he’s been stuffed in it.
But even Todd’s silly appearance isn't enough to cool John’s anxiety completely.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” John asks and circles the bed so he can stand in front of Todd. He puts one hand on the bed and the other rests on Todd’s smooth, cold cheek. “We can get another Wraith, it’s no problem.” He traces his fingers down Todd’s cheek and over his sharp jawline as he says it. He strokes them through Todd’s beard then uses the grasp to brush their lips together.
Todd growls which John had learned isn’t always aggressive. He moves his lips against John’s, kissing him while he answers. “No, my consent was given from the beginning. This is my responsibility; I could not ask another.” His eyes are hooded, but his gaze is anything but sultry. No, his eyes say; there is no other Wraith.
John could argue; John could lose. He commits to the kiss instead. He puts his hands on the Wraith’s hips and kisses Todd like this is the last time he ever will.
Todd plays a hand up John’s spine until he can slide his long fingers through his hair. His other hand hooks through John’s belt and holds him firmly in place.
Everyone on the base – that knows – thinks John started hooking up with Todd to make the Wraith more agreeable to Atlantis’s plans. It’s nothing that interesting, he’s just totally head over heels for the guy. He’s pretty sure Todd loves him too, but six months feels too soon to ask. Way too soon to say it, too. John’s not even sure the words would come out right if he tried. It’s not his style.
They break for air and John asks, “What if it’s like last time, you almost died.”
If John hadn’t let him go after his Hive had been destroyed by Keller’s first attempt, he would be dead. That isn’t an option anymore.
“It will not be like last time,” Todd affirms and kisses John’s cheek, then his jaw, then under it. “Last time I was rash and stupid, I let my desperation get in the way of my sense. The treatment was wrong, we know that now.”
“We think we know that now.”
“Are you doubting mine and Dr. Keller’s capabilities?” He says it with mirth, but his fingers tighten in the human’s hair and John’s not always amazing at social cues, but he knows Todd’s physical ones like he knows a Jumper’ like he knows Atlantis; like he knows the curve and dip of Todd’s spine.
“No of course not…it’s just…” He also knows Todd well enough to know that calling out his fear will only kick that humor defense mechanism up to one thousand, so he just migrates one hand down to his own belt and covers Todd’s hand with it. “It’s just nerve-wracking as hell. At least let me stay beside you through it.”
Todd laughs like something's actually funny. “If you must.” He covers John’s mouth in a deep kiss. “I suppose we can be each other’s prisoners these next few days.”
“You’re such a fucking Wraith,” John muses.
“What else would I be?”
“You can stay, but I’ll need a little access to my patient, Colonel.” Dr. Keller’s voice is sweet and polite, but it hides an edge of anxiety all the same. “If you could.”
John flushes, not exactly from embarrassment; everyone whose anyone in John’s circle knows they’re sleeping together. No, he’s just shy of being caught in such an overtly vulnerable position. So is Todd based on the way his fingers tense then slack. They part without a word.
Keller looks at them with amusement in her doe eyes. She has both her hands on a shiny metal cart. That cart houses the needle and a few antiseptic tools. John gaps, his mouth forming an ‘o’ when he sees how big it is.
It’s only the first of three. Todd will have to stay in here for a week and get injected three times before they’ll know if the thing actually works. Anytime between or after, he could die from a million known and unknown complications to his system. All the simulations come back clean, but they can’t ever know for sure.
Keller abandons the cart and wheels a screen over. She presses a few buttons and then hits pause before a simulation can play out. “I wanted us all to watch it again before going through with this.”
Todd grumbles his annoyance and John elbows him. “In such a hurry to die?”
The Wraith growls lightly and rolls his eyes. “Very well, play on, doctor.”
The simulation plays slower than Keller or Todd would probably prefer, but John has trouble tracking the process unless it plays at half speed. What is happening on the screen is the treatment is sending a signal, something John doesn’t really understand, and some bio-matter, to Todd’s body that is supposed to take the systems responsible for the breaking down and using of what Atlantis used to call human life force, but is actually a particular enzyme or molecule or something responsible for vitality, and alter them just slightly. If all goes to plan, the systems will only accept animal molecule-enzyme-thing, allowing the Wraith to keep their abilities while ending the culling for good.
The risks are many, but the most alarming to John is the possibility that the treatment will irreparably damage Todd’s ability to draw nutrients for good. He could starve to death in a matter of months and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.
The simulation ends and John is no more reassured. He looks from Keller to Todd and sways back and forth slightly in an effort to keep in one place.
Todd places his hand on John’s shoulder and clears his throat. “I am ready, Doctor Keller.”
John gulps. He brings his hand up to grasp Todd’s. It isn't just the risk to his life and thus the hope of the program, it’s the very stupid, selfish thought that Todd is his lover, and he doesn’t want to lose him.
Actually, their sleeping together should be so illegal, but it isn’t because here on Pegasus they’re all just fighting one day at a time; maybe someone would care more if there wasn’t the program – maybe the only reason John is allowed this is because of it – but maybe no one cares because it’s Todd. Not that John could ever love another Wraith, but Todd is the only Wraith anyone here would ever tolerate John loving. He can’t lose someone he loves that much.
Keller is wiping Todd's arm down when John whispers to the Wraith, “And you’re sure about the Gift?”
It’s also that.
Todd chuckles. “As I told you, that will not be an issue.”
They’d learned that the reason why humans usually die after feeding is that the body simply can’t replenish its stores fast enough. Similarly, they found out that the Gift of Life doesn’t really give back what it takes, but instead floods the system with the product a Wraith’s body creates from feeding. What happens during the Gifting process is, at its core, the same thing as giving a plant Miracle Grow; the giftee gets the nutrients necessary to rapidly fix itself and replenish its own stores. If there’s nothing to replenish, then it gives the giftee an exhilarating rush of energy.
In theory, the Gift will still be possible with the alterations, but once again they can’t be sure. Todd is just trying to spare his feelings with his confidence.
“Worth a shot,” John says sheepishly.
Todd makes a humming sound and slides one of his hands up the line of John’s jaw to his cheek, steering his head closer in the process. They touch noses, then cheeks when Todd slides his smooth skin over John’s stubble. They’re facing away from Keller – a welcome reprieve.
“This is a good thing, Sheppard,” he says, his voice rumbling over John’s temple.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He snuck one of his hands down and is now pressing Todd’s feeding hand to his chest like it might disappear.
“It will work. I have every confidence.” He presses his hand firmly against John.
John can’t resist the flesh of air and a half-strangled groan that leaves through his teeth.
Todd places a chaste kiss on John’s cheek then he turns back to face his future.
“You’re ready?” Keller asks softly.
John watches, a lump deep in his throat, as the Wraith closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Todd flexes his feeding hand a few times. When he opens his eyes, they’re set and determined. “I am ready,” he says lowly.
She sets the needle against Todd’s skin. John breathes in sharply, digs his nails into his own palm. The Wraith squeezes John’s shoulder as the needle slides in. He doesn’t wince, doesn’t recoil, only tightens his grip and lets his mouth part, wordlessly, while the fluid disappears into his body.
Done.