Chapter Text
The pale blue smoke of incense curled up from the glowing orange ember, carving little whorls in the air. The patterns lacked geometric edges, somehow matching the softly floral scent. Normally, he disliked incense, the smell too strong for a Sentinel—even one so adept at controlling his senses as John Sheppard. This pale red stick, however, had a pleasantly scintillating aroma. It teased him, and he deliberately dialed up his sense of smell.
The complex flavor trickled through his olfactory senses. It vaguely reminded him of vanilla, and a little of lavender; there was a slightly woodsy hint like sandalwood, and something warm like cinnamon. It was also like none of those things, and trying to puzzle it out enticed him to dial his senses up further.
A low, fond chuckle drifted through the room. “Easy, flyboy. You're gonna make yourself zone.”
John blinked and looked up, giving his Guide a somewhat disparaging look. “I’m not gonna zone because of a little smoke, McKay.”
Blue, blue eyes narrowed in a mild glare. “How many times have I told you, call me Rodney?”
Another chuckle, this time a woman’s. “It is wonderful to see the bond you share.”
John looked over at Teyla, curious. “How many bonded Guides and Sentinels have you known?”
“Not many,” she replied, rising from her cross-legged position on the floor and grabbing a leather tie off the bedside table. “Just three, in fact.”
Through Rodney, John could sense her mood darken. “What is it?”
Teyla pulled her luxurious, copper hair back and tied it with the strip of leather. “None of them are alive, any longer,” she said, and though it didn’t show on her face, he could feel her burst of sadness.
Beside John, Rodney shifted on his plump cushion. “The Wraith?”
The Athosian took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.” She seemed to shake herself. “Which is why you must keep practicing. You’re getting better at shielding John, but I can still sense he’s a Sentinel.”
Rodney heaved an expansive sigh, throwing John a rueful smile. “That’s because we had to go and play with a big black fart cloud that, oopsie, it’s actually an anti-protoplasmic black energy fart cloud that we had to convince—using my big brain’s remarkable mental prowess—to leave Atlantis. Which just had to make our bond grow even bigger, making it that much harder to conceal.”
John’s lips twitched. “Only you could work a self-aggrandizing plug into a diatribe about fart clouds.”
Rodney snorted, and even Teyla grinned. She brushed a lock of fringe off her forehead. “You are getting better, Rodney,” she said. “Honestly, I’m astonished how quickly you learned to do this—and how quickly you’ve improved.” She sat back down in front of the pair. “I cannot sense a Guide, only a Sentinel. John blazes like a sun.” She gave him a soft look.
John tried not to squirm.
With a quick smile, Teyla looked back at Rodney. “To shield him at all, you truly do possess—what was it? Remarkable mental prowess.” With a twinkle in her eye.
Now John winced even as he grinned. Ah, that’s gonna set him off.
Rodney immediately puffed up. “Yes, well, that goes without saying. Atlantis calls me a High Guide, which is apparently almost as rare as the Sentinel Prime. On Earth—in our galaxy, actually—Guides don’t usually score as high as a six on the GSS Scale. That’s the Guide-Sentinel Sensitivity Scale. It measures how powerful a Guide and Sentinel are. Even before I was bonded to John, I registered as a nine. Unheard of. Oh, the scale only goes as high as ten. After John and I bonded, I scored a ten on the Scale. John, of course, registers off the scale.”
John rolled his eyes. “Are you done boasting?”
Rodney just smirked. “I haven’t even gotten started, flyboy.”
Teyla chuckled. “Shall we continue?”
Still looking all too pleased with himself, Rodney shifted around on his cushion. “Yes, we shall. Just relax, flyboy. Keep smelling the pretty smoke.”
Snorting, torn between amusement and exasperation, John leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows and stretching his legs out in front of him. Closing his eyes, he opened himself up to Rodney and let all thought melt away. Their bond spanned between them, visible behind his eyelids as a great, glowing path of gold. Like billions and billions of threads of pure light connected them.
And on the other end of that glowing path, Rodney. His presence so, so vast. So all-encompassing it nearly felt infinite as his Guide reached for him along that golden path. John folded like a house of cards, melting and yielding as Rodney pushed into him, as gentle as falling petals and as inexorable as the tide.
"Easy, flyboy," Rodney soothed, his amusement a pleasant ripple of blue across the gold. "You get lost a little too easily now when I do this."
John wanted to explain, tell his Guide it was because he hadn’t experienced belonging like this in so, so long. Not since losing his mother, and not even she had made John feel like . . . this. Like he was only half of a greater whole, and that every time Rodney connected to him over their bond, John suddenly became complete. They’d done this many times over the last few weeks, but since the evolution of their bond just last night, the connection was many times stronger.
And, yeah. Rodney was right. John got lost very, very easily when Rodney reached for him. It almost felt like zoning, only it was warmer. Sweeter. Safer. Like his Guide was embracing every single part of him, sheltering him.
“That is better, Rodney,” Teyla’s voice said from somewhere. A soft and musical cadence. “I can still sense something, but it is muddled. Almost enough to make me doubt what I’m sensing.”
“Okay,” Rodney said, “let’s try this.”
John shivered when Rodney stroked over his senses and, one by one, gently smothered them. Turning them off, creating the strange impression John wasn’t a Sentinel at all; senses ordinary, like before he came online. With a half-smile, he pushed Rodney back just enough. “You can’t shield me like that when we’re on missions. I’d be useless.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Rodney said. “You’d only be mostly useless.”
“Gee, thanks,” John snorted.
Teyla chuckled. “It didn’t work, anyway. But you are improving, Rodney. I think it’s like a muscle that must be used and exercised to grow stronger. You’re already very nearly there.”
“Well,” John grunted, pushing himself upright, “let’s pick this up later. Sumner wants to meet with us.” He glanced at Teyla. “All of us, actually.”
“Oh, great,” Rodney muttered. “Colonel Square-jaw wants to have a little powwow. I see endless hours of blithering drivel, unrealistic demands, and interminable whining about myriad problems I’m already aware of, thank you very much. Which, oh, by the way—I could solve them much faster without pointless Colonels wasting my precious time with pointless meetings.”
John snorted a laugh. “Okay, Dr. Magic Words.”
Rodney gave him a tiny, secret little smile. It sent a strange thrill through John, remembering how, less than twenty-four hours ago, he and Rodney had nearly . . .
Teyla sighed. “I don’t relish the thought either, Dr. McKay. Colonel Sumner is . . .”
“Uptight?” Rodney supplied. “Obnoxious? Pig-headed? A simpleton? A fool?”
Her lips quirked again. “I was going to say, stern.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a word for it,” Rodney huffed.
Rising to his feet, John held down a hand to Teyla, which she took. “Come on, let’s go see what he wants.”
As the three of them headed to the conference room, Rodney reached over and trailed his fingers down John’s wrist. He sent a vague inquiry across the bond, as if asking whether the contact was okay. John twisted his wrist so Rodney’s hand slid down into his, and he tangled their fingers together. "We slept in the same bed, Rodney. You can hold my hand." With a quick, sideways grin.
Amusement again flashed across their bond. "How am I supposed to say no when my Sentinel wants to cuddle up with me? I’m a weak, weak man."
John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Lieutenant Ford and Sergeant Bates were seated at the table in the conference room with Sumner and Weir. As soon as the three new arrivals sat down, Sumner shifted forward, elbows on the table and hands folded.
“There are quite a few things we need to discuss,” the Colonel said, “and some security risks to address. Sergeant?”
John tried not to tense up. Relax, he counseled himself. There was no suspicion or mistrust radiating from either Sumner or Bates. The Sergeant leaned forward, mimicking Sumner’s posture.
“My first concern,” he began, “is how quickly the Wraith appeared after we made contact with the Athosians.”
Teyla, seated to John’s left, stiffened in her chair. “Surely,” she said with quiet warning, “you are not insinuating my people had anything to do with that.”
Bates gave her a long look. “I’m not insinuating anything. Particularly since Major Sheppard has vouched for you, and it’s not possible to lie or conceal things from a Sentinel.”
“Or a Guide,” Rodney piped up, giving the Sergeant a withering glare.
Bates ignored the scientist. “Major Sheppard insists the Athosians are above reproach,” he went on, “so we’re looking for other explanations.”
“To that end,” Sumner picked up, “we’re going to retrace our steps and look for anything out of the ordinary. Teyla, how often do your people have contact with other worlds?”
Still holding herself with a bit of tension, Teyla lifted her chin. “Often. We trade with many.”
“And,” Sumner went on, “they come through the Stargate? And your people go through the Stargate? All with no trouble?”
Teyla nodded, looking proud and regal. An exotic queen. “Yes. Many dozens of times during the course of an annual.”
“Okay,” Bates said, “we can rule out normal ‘gate travel as a trigger.” He typed in his laptop. “Colonel, what happened when you first set foot on Athos?”
While Sumner recounted their first hour on Athos, John ran through his own memory of their first offworld trip. Neither Rodney’s scanner nor his own senses had detected anything that could send out any sort of signal.
“Major,” Bates said when Sumner finished, “what happened when Teyla took you to the old city?”
John slowly recounted the sight of the old ruins, the drawings carved into the stone walls, the story they told. “That’s when Teyla told me of the big hive ships,” he said. He gave Teyla a look, caught the muted edges of her grief. “How the Athosians were once a great civilization living in that city. Until the Wraith came and culled them.”
“That is when I told Major Sheppard I could sense Aspectum,” Teyla chimed in. “Sentinels, you call them. I also possess the ability to sense Wraith, as I told Colonel Sumner. I believe this is how I can detect Sentinels—it is something all Wraith can do, as well.”
Weir shifted, and John managed not to wince at the sour prickle of fear and dread entering her natural scent. “You mean, the Wraith will know Major Sheppard is a Sentinel?”
“Yes,” Teyla said, nodding. “I have been teaching Dr. McKay how to shield him, so the Wraith will not know. And if I may, Colonel, Dr. Weir, there is another danger of which I must inform you.”
Sumner nodded once.
Teyla’s lovely dark eyes filled with something bordering on anger. “There are many nomadic tribes in the galaxy,” she began. “Some of them are peaceful traders, others are violent marauders. But there is one group of whom you must be especially wary. They call themselves Kastites. They are cruel, brutal, and enjoy causing pain and suffering. However, the thing that makes them most dangerous is their zealous worship of the Wraith.”
Bates, who had been typing away, blinked and looked up. “Wait, there are people out here who worship the Wraith?”
“Yes,” Teyla said, “and many of them are harmless. The Kastites are not. They built their reputation on one particular thing: they hunt Aspectum. The Wraith covet Sentinels, for they themselves have never possessed those unique abilities. Over the centuries, they have hunted Sentinels nearly to extinction, trying to learn their secrets and become Sentinels themselves.”
Sumner didn’t bother trying to hide his disgust. “So, they wouldn’t want to kill Sheppard.”
“No,” Teyla confirmed, “something much worse. The Kastites, as I’ve said, are nomadic, so there is always the possibility of encountering them when you begin traveling to other worlds. You must always be on guard.”
Uneasy now for myriad reasons, John leaned forward in his seat. “How will we recognize them?”
“Fortunately,” Teyla said, “the Kastites all have skin-markings on their faces. Drawn with needles and black ink.” She looked at Weir. “May I?”
When Weir slid the legal pad and pen over, Teyla drew three different shapes. With sharp, geometric angles, each symbol looked slightly different to its neighbor. “They are proud to be known as Kastites,” Teyla went on, “and they wear these symbols where they will be seen. And every group of them has someone like me—someone able to sense Aspectum.”
Sumner flicked John a wry smile. “Who knew you’d be in such high demand.”
John’s lips quirked, his own unease quelled by his CO’s lack of it. “That’s me, Sir. Making friends wherever I go.”
Sumner snorted.
“Are there other groups like these we should watch out for?” Weir asked, her voice calm and controlled despite her anxiety.
“No,” Teyla replied. “They are the only ones who hunt Sentinels for the Wraith.”
Bates drew the conversation back to the encounter on Athos, taking notes as Ford told his part. When he finished typing, the Sergeant frowned. “There’s nothing conclusive.” He looked at Sumner. “Sir, I suggest we return to Athos and search the areas surrounding the ‘gate, encampment, and old city. There has to be something to explain why the Wraith appeared so soon after we arrived on the planet.”
Rodney, who’d been idly not paying attention, blinked and straightened. “Maybe there is. John, you left one thing out in the old city.”
For a moment, John frowned, not sure where his Guide was going with this. Then he sat up. “What, really? You think—”
Rodney shrugged. “Why not? Weirder things have happened.”
“What?” Sumner said with a frown.
John looked at Teyla. “When we were in the old city, I found a strange pendant and picked it up.”
Teyla looked startled. “My locket?”
John gave her a brief smile. “May I?”
She quickly untied the leather twine and handed the pendant to John. Steeling himself for his absolute least favorite usage of his abilities, John dialed up his sense of sight. He felt Rodney gently block his other four, making it even easier to concentrate. He sent his Guide a pulse of gratitude as his vision narrowed and narrowed and narrowed, until everything big and solid became tiny and intangible, until everything scattered into its basest components of atoms and particles and molecules and energy, and he slammed his eyes shut the instant it was confirmed.
“It’s giving off a signal,” he managed in a steady voice.
Rodney’s hand landed lightly on his wrist, and he stroked across their bond, soothing away the extreme discomfort and disorientation. “Short range, I assume?”
John nodded, straightening from where he’d slumped forward and reopening his eyes.
Rodney looked at Sumner and Weir. “I’m assuming there was something on Athos, some kind of transmitter capable of picking up the pendant’s signal and sending it to the Wraith. Either that, or those little Wraith fighters were close enough to pick up the pendant’s signal directly.”
“I do not understand,” Teyla said. “My father gave it to me when I was just a child. If it was giving off a signal all that time, would not the Wraith have come over and over again? The last time they came to Athos was many seasons ago.”
Rodney, who had not removed his hand from John’s wrist, rubbed his thumb over the tender hollow. “I have two possible explanations for that,” he said. “The device could have been activated by John’s touch because he has the ATA gene—”
“Or it was designed to activate when a Sentinel touched it,” John finished for him.
The pair exchanged uneasy glances, and Rodney nodded.
Sumner rubbed his fingers over his jaw. “Both are plausible,” he mused. “Is there a way to find out which?”
John reflexively winced. Wrong question.
“Um, hello, who are you talking to?” Rodney demanded. “Of course, I can find out which one. Do I look like some kind of high school teacher, teaching inept kids how to make sock cannons out of PVC pipe? I could have it figured out in an hour. Half an hour. Hell, probably ten minutes! Question is, what difference does it make? There are red potatoes, and there are yellow potatoes, but they’re both potatoes.”
Sumner gave him a flat look. “You don’t think it’s important to determine if the Wraith have some way to track Sentinels?”
“Of course, it’s important!” Rodney growled. “Only an idiot or a fool couldn’t see the value in determining—”
“Rodney and I will look into it,” John cut in, turning his hand to lightly squeeze Rodney’s fingers. While he genuinely didn’t mind listening to a good ol’ Rodney rant, right now he wanted to be alone with his Guide.
“Good,” Sumner said, the corner of his mouth twitching just the slightest bit, as though he were trying not to smile. “Major, your first offworld mission will be returning to Athos. As long as Teyla doesn’t object, I’d like you to salvage anything from the encampment we can use. Food, water, blankets, tools, weapons, anything.”
Teyla inclined her head. “I do not mind at all. You have already been more than kind to my people. We will help all we can.”
Weir smiled at her. “Thank you, Teyla. Colonel Sumner, is there anything else?”
“No, Ma’am,” the Colonel replied. “We’ll hold off on scheduling the mission until Dr. McKay has managed to successfully shield the Major.”
“I recommend we also go back to that planet where we rescued you and Teyla,” John piped up. “I don’t know how much we can learn, but we need to start thinking about gathering intel about the Wraith.”
“Agreed,” Sumner said. “That’s all for now; dismissed.”
"Come with me," John requested across their bond. "I need to talk to you."