Upside Down - Postage Stamp

[rinkhc]

Title: Upside Down

Fandom: SGA - AU

           Series: A tale that might have been from the Telpa ‘verse, if they had Keri in it

Characters/Pairing: Lorne/Sheppard
Orientation: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 18,144

Warnings: Slave!fic, this is not a death!fic, a little whump, ‘cause it’s telpa.

Notes: for angelyuy, because this started out as a little slashy gift and grew out of control, but she still deserves her gift. 

Prompts:

Hurt Comfort Bingo (Postage Stamp)

Plane Crash, Mutation, Difficult Pregnancy, Lacerations/Knife Wounds
Benchmark Over 10k

 

Sub-Commander John Sheppard struggled to get the bucking gateship under control. McKay thought he had fixed the problem they had been having with it, but apparently it was still broken. The little ship had behaved for a short time during the test flight, but now was acting up again. John couldn't get the helm to answer properly. He switched it over to manual and it became a wrestling match with the gateship’s steering controls.

He braced the steering column tightly against his chest as he leaned over to reach the dialing crystals to enter the Gate address for Atlantis. He prayed the dashboard DHD was functioning properly, though he wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t since nothing else was. He had system wide failures. The ship lurched to the left as he hit the last crystal and the Gate kawooshed open before him. He aimed for the puddle and prayed the ship held steady long enough for him to line her up and get through. 

The ship slid through the wormhole, but the trip took far longer than it should have. John actually had time to see the wormhole forming as he passed through; it was not an instantaneous trip. When the nose poked through the event horizon, John groaned; he was not where he needed to be. This was not Atlantis. The ship shot through the Gate like a greased pig at the county fair and spiraled out of control. Shouting and cursing, John fought for control again. He needed to land. He spotted a clear stretch of land and aimed for it as best he could. It was a hard landing; he tore a long furrow in the ground as he skidded along at high speed.

John’s teeth were jarred and he bit his tongue, but a sore tongue was the least of his worries. The gateship was heading straight towards a ravine.

“SHIT!” he exclaimed, trying to fire braking thrusters. Only one fired, on the right side, and the ship was sent spinning in circles a few times. The spinning did slow progress, however, and he slowed almost to a stop, nose towards the ravine. It was not slow enough. When he realized the front end was going over, he leapt from his seat, stumbled through the back compartment and slammed his hand down on the ramp release. 

He dove through the opening as soon as it opened wide enough for him to get through. He landed on the ground and rolled to safety as the gateship went over the side of the ravine. Panting for breath, he crawled to the edge and peered over. The gateship plummeted hundreds of feet, smashed at the bottom and exploded, sending up a plume of fire and smoke. 

“Well, Rodney, that’s one less thing on your to-do list,” John muttered, climbing to his feet. He thought the Gate was off to the west, so he started walking in that direction. He hoped he made the Gate by nightfall; he was practically naked, not suited for an overnight field mission. He didn’t even have a TAC vest, since he’d been on a simple shakedown flight to the Atlantis Alpha Site. He had his Beretta and only one spare clip for it on his belt. He had a knife strapped to his ankle. That was it. He was clad in a black t-shirt and his BDU’s; it had been summer and hot when he left Atlantis. He was practically naked. 

“You there! Ard! Stop!” 

John stopped walking and held up his hands, turning slowly towards the voice. A man clad in leather pants with a grayish tunic belted over it drew his gun and walked towards John. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m just heading for the Gate,” John said carefully. 

The man waggled aimed his weapon at John’s midsection. “Rank and regiment?” 

“I’m not from around here. Where is here anyway?” 

“Nelos. Throw your weapon over, and the knife.” His pants leg had ridden up and the sheath of the blade was showing. Sighing, John did as commanded. He hated being captured. It sucked. Not knowing where he was, and the politics involved here on Nelos, he was at a disadvantage. 

“Put your hands behind your back.” The man moved closer and John again did as he was told. Later, upon reflection, he would realize that this was the point when he probably could have made a break for it. 

Heavy leather cuffs were placed on his wrists and clipped together. His comm link was knocked from his ear by a quick swipe from the point of his captor’s gun. The guy with the gun stooped to retrieve John’s Beretta, radio and knife and then prodded John into following a path that led to a paved street. A strangely shaped motorcar approached, and his captor waited patiently for it to pass by before crossing the road. 

He was brought into what looked like any other police station on Earth. Great, he’d been nabbed by a local cop. The cop told the guy behind the desk, “Yanel, I’ve got a stray, picked him up not too far from the Eastwood Ravine.” 

“Did you check him for marks?” 

“No, he was armed, might be a soldier. I didn’t want to get in striking range without backup. He had these on him.” John’s gun, comm link and knife landed on the desk with a loud thump. 

“Smart thinking, Kros, it looks like you can be trained after all.” The officer behind the desk came around and gave John the once over. 

“Listen, this ia all a misunderstanding. As I tried telling Kros, I’m just a little lost and need to get to the Gate. Then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“He did say that, Yanel.” 

Yanel asked, “Does your regiment know where you are?” 

That was the second mistake John would look back on later. He should have answered ‘Yes officer, I have a whole battalion that will be looking for me when I don’t report in,’ but instead, he stupidly answered, “I don’t even know where I am.” 

Kros undid the clasps holding John’s cuffed wrists together, though the thick leather cuffs remained in place on his wrists. He could move his hands now, but assumed that any wrong move would get him bound up again, so he kept them still. 

“Kros, keep an eye on him, weapon ready,” Yanel said as he moved to stand in front of John and pulled John’s head forward. The cop lifted the collar of his t-shirt to examine his neck. He gave a grunt and shoved him down into a chair behind him. John was unused to rough handling; everyone knew Sheppard was a keri and handled him with kid gloves. Surprised at the shove, he fell back in the chair. Yanel pointed to John’s combat boots. “Take those off.” 

John obeyed, since Kros was holding his firearm pointed at him. Once his feet were bare, Yanel barked, “Hold them up and let me see the soles.” John lifted each one and showed the cop. Yanel motioned for John to stand again. “Take your shirt off.” 

They were methodically stripping him and checking him for something. John sighed and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Yanel looked him over quickly. “You may put your shirt back on. Then empty your pockets.” 

His radio base unit, pocketknife, a roll of breath mints, a piece of a broken control crystal from the gateship and his lucky giraffe token all ended up on the desk. After Yanel examined each item, John pointed to the bronze giraffe and said, “Could I have that back?” He’d gotten it from a… friend and it had sentimental value, reminding John of better times. 

“A toy?” 

“It was a gift.” 

Yanel fingered it, probably assessing the value, then shrugged and passed it back to John. He slipped it back into his pocket. 

“He has no marks within recognized body zones so he’s fair game. Congratulations Kros, you bagged your first bounty.” John did not like the sound of that at all. He liked what Yanel said next even less. “Take him to the pens and collect your boon.” 

His wrist cuffs were clasped back together and he was shoved along to the door, even more naked than he had been before. He stepped on a rock and muttered a few vicious swear words at the cops for appropriating his boots.

~*~

DranWrin Lorne was bored with his current body telpa. He had even tried a pair of females for variety, but they did little for his libido so he had recently sold them to Sassa Cadman. He was at the pens to replace them. 

The Keeper showed him through to the holding room, where the telpa available for purchase were lounging on the chaises and couches around the room. There was music playing softly in the background, calming sounds piped in through the speaker system. The control drugs that their food was laced with kept the telpa mellow and controllable. This particular Keeper knew Evan’s tastes very well and led him straight over to where the male body telpa were being kept.

“This one came in yesterday, he’s just finished processing. Look at the coloring; exotically dark like the ones from the west, and with hazel eyes, just like a native of The Springs. We did have to subdue him a bit.” The Keeper was required by law to divulge any subjugation methods that had been used at the pens to bring an unruly telpa under control.

Evan tilted his head, regarding the drowsy eyed telpa. “He isn’t a choicer, obviously. Which method was used on him?” 

“Well, as you can see, he’s wrist bound. He’s a wriggler. We’ve also injected him with a silencer; you’ll have to train him to be silent first thing. You should have about six cycles before the silencer wears off completely.” 

DranWrin Lorne rolled his eyes and took a step back, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s untrained? Bah! I wanted a plaything now, show me one that’s trained!” 

“Surely for such a fine specimen it would be worth a little investment in training?” The Keeper asked hopefully, gesturing to the telpa again. “He is the prettiest to come through in a long while, DranWrin Lorne.” 

Evan tilted his head and considered the telpa once more. He was very pretty, long limbed and slim. The hair was hopeless, but Evan could deal with that. “I suppose I could send him over to Bardero Parr’ish for daytime training. I don’t need him underfoot all day. It would be a good investment.”

The Keeper pulled the telpa’s head up and forced his mouth open. “Good teeth, he’s been well cared for.”

“Fine, I’ll take him. How much is the asking?” 

“Fifty five zercs.” 

“I’ll give you fifty.” 

“Fifty will not cover the cost of the silencer drugs. Believe me, we did you a great favor, this one is too chatty for his own good. Tell Virell Max at Bardero Parr’ish we sent you; he’ll give you a discount on the preliminary training. I’ll go to Fifty three zercs. He’ll bring more if we send him to auction on Magistrar’s Day, we could probably get sixty five to seventy for him.” 

Evan sighed and looked the telpa over again. He was probably worth it. If what the Keeper said was true, Evan would recoup his outlay when he sold this one off. He wrote out a cheque for the fifty three zercs and handed it to the Keeper. 

The Keeper tucked the cheque safely away on his clipboard and asked, “Do you want him shipped or will you take him?” He handed Lorne the telpa’s papers and bill of sale, which the DranWrin pocketed after checking that the price matched what he had paid.

“I’ve a motor carriage parked outside; I’ll take him along with me now. How long until the sedation drugs wear off?” 

The Keeper checked the tag attached to the heavy leather restraint collar around the telpa’s neck and then looked at his clipboard. He flipped a page over and ran a finger across a line of information as he read. “He wasn’t fed a midday meal, so I would say four hours before he’s completely cognizant again.”

“Good enough.” Evan took the leash the Keeper attached to the telpa’s collar and tugged. “Rer!” The telpa slowly turned his head and blinked stupidly at Evan. The drugs were more of a hindrance than a help right now. “Get up, come along.” Lorne tugged the leash again. 

When the telpa didn’t move, the DranWrin went over and grabbed his arm and pulled on it until he stood. “Come.” 

The telpa was so listless and hard to maneuver to the motor carriage that Lorne decided to just leave him at Bardero Parr’ish until the drugs wore off. He stopped there and made the arrangements with the training master, the Virell of the Bardero, Max. He left the telpa’s papers with Max, who promised to have the telpa ready by the Evening Bell. Evan would have to be out in the city past sunset, but if it meant having a biddable body telpa tonight, it would be worth the inconvenience. He would return at the evening bell to collect his property. 

Max offered to have the telpa properly neck marked as well, if DranWrin Lorne desired. Lorne declined; he had not kept a body telpa longer than a few cycles, sometimes days if they bored him. He spent a lot of time at Sassa Cadman’s, preferring to let her do the buying and training of telpa. He kept his household telpa collared, leaving the permanent marking to their next owner. 

~*~ 

Returning to consciousness was a long, slow process. John had been only vaguely aware of his surroundings for some time. He remembered being beaten when he would not submit to having a heavy leather collar put around his neck. He couldn’t raise his hands now to check, but when he moved his head he could feel the bite of the collar against his throat. They’d done it anyway. 

He had tried explaining that he was an SGO officer and that he needed to return to his base. He told them that there were people that relied on him and he needed to go back there. But his words only served to anger his captors. One of them shouted at him and then stabbed his throat with a syringe while three others held him still. 

Now he found himself strapped to a wooden cross, bound hand and foot, with his arms and legs spread wide. He was completely naked now. Idly, he wondered where his giraffe had wandered off to, which made him realize that he was still mildly stoned. 

A tall man with dark hair and eyes, clad in leather pants and vest with no shirt beneath came across the room towards him. He had a whip in his hand, a flogging crop, actually. John gulped, suspecting this was not going to be pleasant. He opened his mouth to protest, to promise to behave, but a gasping squeak was all he could get out. He tried again with the same result. He couldn’t talk! 

The man slapped the flogger into his palm and eyed John up and down. “You’re a troublemaker, they say. They had to hit you with a silencer to shut you up. That is not an auspicious start to your time at your new Bardero. Your DranWrin likes them quiet and biddable. So, you are going to learn, very quickly, to be quiet and biddable. Do you understand me?” 

John nodded his head reluctantly. What else could he do? He was completely naked, strapped to a cross, had no clue where he was, and was without allies. He needed to bide his time until he could get to the Gate. Even then, he wasn’t certain he would be able to get home. That had been one very fucked up wormhole that brought him here. 

The man smiled nastily. “The first thing you need to learn is what will happen if you do not obey…”

Several torturous hours later, John was off the cross and on his knees. He was now in possession of a new vocabulary of commands. He was also, according to Virell Max, expected to perform those commands when his owner arrived to collect him. He had been sold into slavery. Worse, he had been sold as a sex slave. He was extremely glad to be very far from Earth. The chances of him running into an unbonded panor here were slim to none. At least he wouldn’t have a forced bonding to deal with here. He laughed to himself at the irony of the situation. His worst fear and worry was no longer on the table. He didn’t have to dread being claimed by a panor, thanks to his enslavement. 

If he did not do the commands correctly, the Virell had warned him that he would be severely punished. He hoped he had the damn things straight in his head. These people had a whole vocabulary for slaves… not slaves, telpa. He was now a telpa. He was expected to keep his eyes downcast, unless ordered otherwise by his DranWrin. He was not to address anyone by name, only by title, unless ordered otherwise. 

He had done everything he was ordered to do, so the Virell had not flogged him since the initial fifteen lashes. He was warned that his DranWrin could and likely would beat him. John was informed that complaints of cruelty took a very long time to be processed and acted upon by the Magistrar’s office and he would likely be dead before a resolution was reached on any complaint registered. Few Wrins were ever formally charged. What in the hell had he fallen into?

The thing that was disturbing John the most about this whole incident was that he was finding himself aroused by the handling he was receiving at the hands of the Virell. He had never in his life been manhandled like this; it was against the law to mistreat a keri. The sex shops and bondage retailers had all gone underground decades ago back home. The laws against the sex trade were so harshly controlled that it was almost non-existent. He was surprised to find that he had liked the feel of the flogger against his skin. He had liked it very much when the Virell had taken him off the cross and shoved him to his knees and forced him into the positions that went with the telpa commands. His cock was hard and had been so for hours. Apparently, it would lead to punishment if he did anything to relieve himself without permission. The Virell had not given him permission. John was aching for release. 

The Virell walked a circle around him. “Got yourself a bit of a problem there, don’t you telpa?” The command for taking care of that is Bir. If you please your DranWrin, he might let you Bir, eventually.” The laugh that followed that provocative bit of information was a bit nasty. 

There was a pounding at the door and the Virell turned to go open it. Remembering himself just in time, John bowed his head to wait for permission to look up. He heard the Virell telling someone that the telpa was ready. There were footsteps and then a pair of high black boots with dark blue trousers tucked into the tops appeared in John’s field of vision. 

A riding crop touched under his chin, lifting and forced him to look up. John’s jaw dropped open when he found himself looking up into Evan Lorne’s face. He smiled, thinking he was rescued, but the smile dropped away as he realized Evan didn’t recognize him. This wasn’t his Evan. This was not the best friend that played video games with him every weekend and hung out for beer on the pier and teased him for still being an unbonded keri. 

“Glad to see me?” Evan asked, smirking at him. “Goodness, Max, what have you been doing to him that he’s so relieved to see me?” 

“This one is an odd one to be sure, DranWrin Lorne. As you can see, he liked his training. He took to the commands very well; he’s obviously used to taking orders, wherever he’s from.” 

Lorne walked a circle around him, dragging the crop across his chest and around to his back. “I’ll judge for myself what you have accomplished today, I’m certain I shall not be disappointed, you’ve done well for my Bardero in the past with our Vineyard telpa.”

“Do you wish me to remain, DranWrin Lorne?” 

“No, thank you Max. I prefer privacy for this sort of thing.” 

“Very good, I’ll be within calling distance, if there is anything I can do.” The Virell inclined his head respectfully and left. 

“Are you hungry?” Lorne asked him. 

John was starving. He nodded his head briskly, trying not to appear too eager. 

Sliding the crop under his armpit, Lorne walked to a table at the side of the room. There was a platter of food there; John had seen a collared telpa deliver it earlier. The Virell had picked at the platter but had not eaten much while he was working with John. 

This was not his friend Evan, John realized with certainty as he watched the man move across the room. His walk was different. This Evan had not been military trained; his shoulders were not ramrod straight and held back as he walked. His posture was different from John’s Lorne, as was his gait. John had lusted after his friend for years, had been watching him in secret whenever he could. But he didn’t want a bonding, and his Evan was panor, and so he had never acted on his attraction. But this man, this non-panor Evan was safe, to a certain extent.

Lorne - the DranWrin - John corrected himself, came back with a plate of fruit and cheese. “Every command correctly done gets you a bite.” 

What was he, a fucking dog? He guessed so. In the minds of these people, he was a lesser being meant to serve. Whatever, he couldn’t do anything to change his circumstances now and he was hungry. He’d play along and bide his time until he could see a way clear to escaping to the Gate.

“Sis.” John hated Sis. Sis was one of the more degrading positions. He bent forward from the waist and folded his arms on the floor in front of him, resting his forehead on the floor. He hoped Lorne didn’t make him hold this too long, it was hell on his back.

“Correct. Now, Pol.” Releived to be released from the humiliating Sis position, he sat up and rested his hands on his knees. Lorne smiled and nodded and picked up a hunk of cheese from the plate. He held it to John’s lips. Knowing that pleasing this guy was now his best chance to get the hell out of all of this, John opened his mouth and tried to be as sensual as he could as he took the cheese from Lorne’s fingers. He let his tongue lightly touch the other man’s skin before he closed his mouth around the hunk of cheese. 

It wasn’t horrible tasting, a little smoky and goat cheese-like, but John had eaten far worse offerings in Pegasus on a good day. The DranWrin’s eyes widened slightly as he watched John slowly chew the food. “That was for the Sis. This is for the Pol.” He held a fat purple berry up and pressed it against John’s lips. He tilted his head forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Lorne’s face as he opened his lips and sucked on the berry. 

His little plan was working, the DranWrin was starting to breath a little heavier. He took a step back from John. 

“Fet.” John stood. He was now looking down at the DranWrin; he had three inches on this Lorne, just as he had on the Lorne back home. 

Lorne took a slice of white fruit from the plate; it looked like a sliced pear or apple to John, and held it up. John leaned down and closed his mouth around both the fruit and Lorne’s fingers, sucking at the sweet juice that was running down his knuckles. Lorne’s breathing was significantly heavier, the seduction was definitely working. 

“Ven!” Lorne barked, shaking his head and stepping away, apparently not willing to fall into the seduction quite so easily. John figured he had time, he’d learned quite a few new commands today. He spread his legs apart, standing at parade rest. 

That earned him a big wedge of cheese, which Lorne held in the palm of his hand and extended in offering, not risking his fingers near John’s mouth again. John took it in his fingers and made a show of nibbling at it as he watched Lorne, never taking his eyes from his new owner’s face. 

He saw Lorne’s gaze drop, and recognized the hunger in his eyes as he checked out John’s cock, still hard and jutting up at perfect attention. Lorne licked his lips and commanded, “Ame.” 

John bent at the waist. With his legs still spread, he had to rest his fingertips on the floor in order to hold the position. It reminded him of one of Teyla’s katas that he had learned. Lorne made a strangled noise and moved closer to John. “Fet.” 

He stood slowly, arching his back and stretching, cat-like, as he obeyed the command.

“Rer.” Lorne said, and John stalked over closer to him. Lorne held out the plate, “Three commands correctly done.” John picked up another of the purple berries and sucked it, pursing his lips and licking at the juice that dribbled down his chin. He used one finger to wipe at the juice and then sucked on that for a few moments before choosing another wedge of cheese. He nibbled at it a bit more quickly than the last time, since he was hungry and this was as much for nourishment as it was for seduction. There was a large chunk of the apple or pear fruit too, so he plucked that from the plate and bit into it, chewing it slowly as he watched Lorne’s face. 

“Jaa.” He went to his knees. He wondered how far the DranWrin would take this here in the Training Room. The Virell hadn’t made John suck him off; but he had graphically described what he was expected to do. He had also told him what to expect when the DranWrin took him home. What was ahead was the most frightening part of this whole misadventure for John; he had never gone that far with a partner before. He had sucked his share of cock, playing with other keri, but penetration was outside his experience. 

Lorne held out another wedge of the juicy fruit, so John repeated the sucking on Lorne’s fingers. The DranWrin was really breathing heavily now. “Lel. Suck the tip for a count of five and keep your eyes on mine in reverence.” 

John reached up and slowly undid the buttons of Lorne’s blue trousers. He tugged the tails of the blue shirt he wore out and then wrapped his fingers around Lorne’s cock. Damn. He should have pushed his Lorne harder to play with him. He was blessed with a beautiful cock. John’s mouth watered at the thought of the next command to come, anticipating the DranWrin’s obvious desires. He focused his eyes on Lorne’s face, seeing the heat in the blue eyes as he closed his mouth around the head of his cock and sucked as commanded for a five count. He then leaned back into Pol and waited. 

“Correctly done.” Lorne’s hand came out and he idly ran his fingers along the spikes of John’s hair. He patted his palm on the cowlicks and then smirked as they sprang up again. “Hopeless.” 

John returned the smirk and nodded. Lorne fed him another piece of cheese and then handed him the plate and pointed to the floor beside John. “Put that down there.” 

The DranWrin’s voice caught as he said, “Dal.”

Once he got past the part about this being mandatory, and the collar around his neck and the whole concept of being a sex slave, John wasn’t having too much of a problem being a telpa so far. He had always loved sucking cock. Lorne was stroking his head and rocking back and forth slowly, minutely fucking John’s mouth. The drug they gave him was even silencing his moans of pleasure as he looked up at Lorne and sucked. The only sound in the room was an occasional low groan or grunt from Lorne. 

The thrusts sped up and Lorne clenched his fingers in John’s hair, pulling him forward as he poured hot, salty come into his mouth. Swallowing, John breathed through his nose until Lorne released his grip and let him gulp in some air. 

“Do you know Cre?” Lorne asked after a time. 

John nodded and grasped Lorne’s cock and licked it, though there was really no mess to clean up. Lorne patted his head. “I think you’ll do just fine.” He stepped back and tucked himself in, doing up his buttons again. The DranWrin went to the table by the wall. John saw that his BDUs and t-shirt were folded in a pile there.

“Rer.” 

Going over to the clothing, Lorne picked up the dog tags that were lying atop the shirt, picked them up and ran his fingers over the embossed metal. He held the chain up and scowled, then said sharply, “You will not have this back. I will not have someone else’s mark on you. You are mine until I say otherwise. Do you understand that?” 

Watching Lorne shove the dog tags into his pocket, John nodded. Lorne tossed him his black t-shirt, and his boxer shorts, he picked up the BDUS and examined them. Just as John thought Lorne would not check the pockets before giving him the pants, he did. He pulled out the little bronze giraffe and held it up. “A token?” 

John shook his head negatively, lying with the action. He didn’t want Lorne to seize that as well. The giraffe and the remnants of his uniform were all he had left of his old life. “A toy?” 

He shook his head again, folded his hands together and raised his eyes skyward, mimicking prayer as best he could. He hated charades, he always had. This part of dealing with Lorne was going to suck, since he couldn’t talk back. That might be for the best, actually, since his mouth usually got him in trouble in some way or another. 

“A prayer focus?” John lied again and nodded at the question. Lorne shrugged and dropped it back into the pocket of the BDUs and passed John the pants. “Dress yourself.”

As John pulled on his clothes, Lorne went to the door and called for Max. The Virell came almost immediately. John wondered if they had been spied upon while Lorne was putting him through his paces. Probably, Virell Max seemed like the type to have a peephole somewhere. 

As Max came into the room, John heard Lorne tell him, “You’ve done well, as always, Max. Before they silenced him, did they get a name out of him?” 

“It said Ja’han on his papers.” 

“Ja’han?” Lorne said, turning towards him. John nodded, it was close enough, and it wasn’t like he could correct them without his voice. He would have a new name for his time here, it was probably best. He could box it all away in a corner of his mind when it was over and label the box Ja’han. He thought his therapist would like that plan as a coping mechanism. He suspected that he was going to have himself a real case of Stockholm syndrome too, when he was through. He foresaw years of therapy in his future.

“Rer!” Lorne slapped his outer thigh with the riding crop that he had kept under his arm the entire time he was here. He had not used it. John was mildly disappointed, wondering if he was as skilled in the use of it as the Virell.

He didn’t look the Virell in the eye as he walked past him. He kept his head down and followed Lorne, who had his leash in his hand, though he was not pulling it tightly. It rested loosely in his grip, though John imagined he would drag on it if John did not move fast enough to suit him.

Once outside, Lorne led him to an odd vehicle, which must pass for a car here. Lorne pointed to the backseat and then climbed in beside the driver as John figured out how the door opened and slid across the bench seat. He sat back and watched the scenery. It was dark, but he could see by the streetlights that they were in a city. It reminded John of the European cities he had visited, a blending of old construction with the new, without the skyscrapers typical in a US city. 

The house they pulled up in front of was a mansion, a big, old fashioned stone mansion. When John climbed from the backseat onto the cobble pathway, Lorne was waiting with his hand out, palm up. It took John a moment to realize Lorne expected the leash to be handed to him. Quickly he dropped the end into Lorne’s palm, keeping his eyes averted as he had been instructed to do by the Virell. The playtime was over, there was no seduction going on here. 

“Ard!” Lorne barked suddenly, making John jump at the sharpness of his tone. The man was carrying a riding crop; he might lash out if he was angry. But Lorne’s tone was reasonable as he said, “Don’t do that. Stop with the downcast eyes and the bowed head. It irritates me. Unless you cannot control yourself and you’re going to annoy me with eye rolling and dirty looks, you may make eye contact with me. Do you understand?” 

John had learned that ‘do you understand’ was the traditional way these people sealed a standing order. He nodded. He looked up at Lorne, met his eyes and saw him give a satisfied nod. 

He was led inside and a female telpa with a jingling gold chain collar came running to greet them. Handing the leash to her, Lorne said, “Take him to the baths, have him washed and prepared. Get him clean garments. Then bring him to my chambers.” She nodded and tugged on the leash to lead him away from Lorne. 

John didn’t mind the hot bath and having his hair scrubbed and the oils they lavishly massaged into his skin afterwards. He did, however, hate the ‘preparation’ part. Having a stranger’s fingers shoved up his ass and being greased was not pleasant. He would have bitched up a storm but his voice was gone and all he could do was scowl and try to wriggle away. 

“Now then, stop that.” The old man with the petty fingers slapped John’s ass as he tried to roll away off the table. “You’re tight as anything here. You best let me work; else you’ll be sadly sore come morning. The DranWrin is not a small man.” 

Shit. The old bugger was right; Lorne’s cock was wide enough to have made his cheeks ache after a few minutes while he sucked him off. John stopped his squirming and tolerated the old man’s slicked up fingers. 

“There now, much better. Relax yourself.” There was no way John was capable of relaxing, but he did let the man finish his preparations without struggling against him. 

“We’ll wash this clothing and you may have it back later. Take this, you do not want it lost in the washing chamber.” The girl, whom the old man had called Lula, handed John his bronze giraffe. He clasped it tightly in his palm and followed her out through the house again. 

When he was brought up to the DranWrin’s chambers, the girl that had been put in charge of him paused in front of the door and handed John the end of his leash. “Go in. Wait by the door, he’ll give you instructions.” Lula gave him a sympathetic look, she’d been present when the old man had been preparing him and probably realized all of this was scaring the shit out of him. 

She patted his arm and advised, “Don’t dawdle, he hates that. Don’t squirm away when he takes you. He hates that too. If he gets rough, that means he’s annoyed and he only gets rougher. Stay still and bear with it, it isn’t too bad.” Lula swatted his ass, opened the door and nudged him inside. 

It was decorated in a style slightly reminiscent of the Middle East back on earth, except with bright blues and greens dominating the color scheme. Pillows and low chairs and couches littered the large marble tiled room. The windows were tall and open, with gauzy drapes. Lorne was sprawled in an armchair, his boots off and his head thrown back. He dropped his chin down to stare as the door clicked closed behind John. 

“I see Lula got you all settled. Rer.” Lorne gestured casually to a spot in front of him.

After placing his giraffe on a table near the door, John walked over to stand in front of Lorne. The DranWrin glanced up at him and commanded, “Jaa.” John knelt and was surprised when Lorne stroked the top of his head and cupped his chin briefly before reaching down and undoing the leather collar he had been wearing since the pens.

John rolled his neck and shoulders at the sudden freedom. The thing had been and inch and a half wide and his throat felt a little chafed. Noticing the chafed skin, Lorne clucked his tongue. “There is some salve in the bath chamber, in a basket beside the bathing tub; go fetch it and a wash rag.” 

Standing, he looked in the direction Lorne pointed and went to the bathroom. He easily found the basket and the wash rag and the salve and returned to Lorne’s side, placing the jar in Lorne’s outstretched hand. “Jaa.” 

He knelt and put his head back; turning his face from side to side as Lorne gently spread the gooey stuff over his throat with one finger. Almost instantly, the skin was numbed and cooled. He sighed in relief. 

“Feels better, no?” 

Nodding, John smiled lightly and bowed his head to give Lorne access to the back of his neck too. Chuckling, Lorne spread more there. Hopefully, John held up his wrists, where the hard leather of the cuffs from the pens had rubbed them raw before the Virell had removed them. “You’re just a mess, aren’t you?” Lorne slicked his wrists with the stuff and John sighed in contentment. 

Once that was done, Lorne sealed the jar and set it aside on the table next to the chair. He wiped his hands on the wash rag. He then picked up a piece of jewelry, similar in style to the jingling chain collar Lula wore. Lorne motioned for him to lean forward and then fastened it around John’s throat. “I don’t permanently mark. I don’t keep a telpa long enough to do that. The collar is my mark; it stays on at all times. Do you understand?” 

John nodded, fingering the wide links of gold. If the thing were gold, it would cost a fortune on Earth. 

“Have you never been collared before?” John shook his head at the question, and then shrugged, nodded and pointed to Lorne’s pocket where earlier, he had stashed John’s dog tags. He supposed the dog tags were a form of collaring by the US military. 

“Are you still hard?” Lorne asked bluntly, looked down at John’s lap. He nodded. “Bir. Relieve yourself; I don’t want you distracted when I take you.” 

They talked so easily about sex here. It made John blush. An order was an order; however, so he untied the loose fitting sweatpants-like trousers he had been given, pushed them down a little and tugged his dick out. He closed his eyes at the start, but as he stroked faster, he opened them to see Lorne watching him intently. Their eyes locked and John could no more look away than he could stop what he was doing. He grunted silently as he spilled over his hand. 

Lorne tossed him the cloth he had wiped his hand with to clean up his mess. “Feel better?” Lorne asked. John nodded gratefully, though it had been strange having Evan Lorne watching him jerk off. 

A pair of softly padded leather cuffs was tossed in front of him. “Put those on.” He slid them over his wrists, fastening the buckles. They were as long as bracers, with three sets of clasps. There were rings on the outside, presumably to hold ropes or leashes. The DranWrin moved in front of him. “Ech.” John tilted his head, he didn’t know that command. “Present, give me your hands.” He immediately held up his leather clad wrists. Lorne hooked them together, using clasps on the inside of the cuffs. 

“Sis.” Lorne ordered as he got out of his chair. John went into the submissive position, his forehead pressed to the carpet. He couldn’t fold his arms with them cuffed as they were, so he stretched them out in front of him in the alternative position the Virell had taught him. Now he knew why the Virell had taught it to him. He heard quiet noises behind him as Lorne moved. Then he felt the heat from Lorne’s body as he knelt behind him and leaned over John’s back.

The DranWrin dragged John’s trousers down over his thighs, exposing him. Lorne nudged his legs apart and settled between them. Tamping down his rising panic, John forced himself to stay still. He’d never allowed anyone to take him this way. He had been raised to believe that what Lorne was about to do was a panor’e’ten’s right.

John suddenly realized it didn’t grieve him very much to have Lorne take this innocence away from him, as he never intended to bond with anyone anyway. He knew others enjoyed the act, why shouldn’t he? He tried calming himself with this new line of thinking.

He felt the press of Lorne’s cock at his ass and he tried not to tense up. “Have you done this before?” Lorne asked near his ear. Lifting his head to shake it negatively, he quickly put his forehead back to the floor. The Virell had drummed that into his head, always return to form, even if you break, go back as soon possible.

“Then I’ll try to go slow.” John wanted to protest; he wanted this over with. He shook his head again, and Lorne must have been watching for non-verbal signals because he correctly interpreted the head shake.

“You want me to go fast?” John nodded. “Over and done with, no?” John nodded again. 

“You asked for it,” Lorne told him as pushed in. John would have yelped if he could have made a sound. He opened his mouth and made a strangled gasp. Pausing for a few seconds to give John time to adjust, Lorne pushed the rest of the way in. In his head, John was repeating a litany of curses. He forced himself not to pull away, to adjust to the girth of Lorne’s cock. Despite John asking for it to be fast, Lorne was going slow, giving him time to get used to everything. 

Lorne was now pressed along John’s back, bracing himself on his knuckles as he held still. After a minute or two, he ground out near John’s ear, “I have to move now, Ja’han.” John nodded in acknowledgement. Lorne slowly withdrew and then pressed back in. He did that a few more times and then increased the speed as John loosened up and relaxed slightly under him. Rising up off John’s back, Lorne’s hands gripped John’s hips, rocking him forward and back into the motion with each thrust. 

He had thought he was going to hate this, after that initial intrusion. Quite the contrary, he found that he loved it. He liked the full feeling of having Lorne’s cock crammed up inside him. He loved the way he could feel the contact between their bodies as Lorne pulled out and then shoved back in. He didn’t want it to stop. His cock was fully hard, pressed between his thighs and his belly as he remained arched over on his knees. He found himself purposely pushing back, meeting each thrust forcefully. A hand fell onto the middle of his back, and Lorne was stroking him, making circles there and stroking him. 

“Damn, you are a good one,” Lorne groaned, falling over John’s back again and wrapping his arms around him as he came hotly inside him. He gave a few last thrusts and then sagged, his full weight on John, still huddled in Sis. 

John didn’t know what came over him. He knew he should feel ashamed and that he should be trying to escape this captivity, but getting away from Lorne was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. He wanted to stay right where he was, with Lorne’s arms wrapped around him. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect that his keri bonding hormones were kicking in and affecting his emotions.

But Lorne pulled away and did up his trousers, leaving John feeling empty and bereft and a little lost. “You may get up.” 

Not sure if he was up to rising, John flopped over onto his side and lay there, breathing heavily. He blinked drowsily as he looked up at Lorne, who was staring down at him. “Are you all right?” 

He nodded. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

John shook his head. He was the furthest from hurt that he could possibly be. He smiled at Lorne in an attempt to assuage his concern. 

“Liked it, then?” 

He nodded again and smiled. “You’ll probably want the water flush. It’s in the bath chamber.” When John stayed still, Lorne held a hand out. Reluctantly, John let himself be pulled up. Lorne swatted his ass and pushed him along. 

They had toilet-like things, and John used it, and then figured out how the flusher worked. He wandered out into the chamber again. Lorne was back in his chair; sprawled again in what John would learn was his favorite position. He pointed to a table John had not noticed earlier when he had been more concerned about the reaming his ass was about to take. 

“Eat. There’s stew there, with jalso meat. Eat it, you’re too thin and need to gain some weight.” 

Snorting, as he had heard that his entire life in one form or another, John picked up a bowl and ladled the stew out of a tureen that was set over a small burner. Curious to see how it worked, he bent and examined it. 

“What’s in the pot, not under it!” Lorne called, laughing at him. John picked up a chunk of bread and then looked around for a chair. 

“Rer. Ond.” Lorne pointed to a cushion near his feet. John crossed the room and sat, wincing and shifting until he was comfortable. They ate quietly. The stew was a little gamey but it was rich and filling. John had eaten far worse in the mess hall when the Earth supplies had run out and they were trying new tava bean recipes everyday.

“You came through the Ring?” 

John nodded. He made a motion with his hand to show flying then crashing. 

“An accident?” 

John nodded and frowned. 

“I’ll probably regret this, but do you know how to get back, to get to your home?” 

Pressing his lips together, John gave a nod, then shook his head, then nodded again. 

“Not sure?” 

He nodded. 

Lorne looked towards the windows. “It’s too late to go out now. It isn’t safe to be in the woods at night. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the Gate.”

Completely surprised by this, John nodded and gave Lorne a small smile. He then touched his hand to the golden collar around his neck and looked up at Lorne quizzically, wondering why he was making the offer. 

Lorne reached into his pocket and dangled John’s dog tags in the air, staring at them thoughtfully, with his chin in his hand. “Someone else has a prior claim on you. If it were me out there waiting, I would want someone to help my telpa come home to me. If you can find your way, then I will let you go.” He stood from his chair and held a hand out to John. “Come, it has been a long day and I want my bed.”

John turned to pick up the bowl on the floor. He was stopped by Lorne’s hand on his arm.

“Leave it, Lula will be in to tidy up. She prefers that work to warming beds.” He continued to hold his hand out until John took it. Lorne’s bedchamber was off the sitting area, he pushed the door open and ushered John in.

The bed was wide and it was comfortable. John sank into the softness and sighed, curling on his side. He didn’t protest when Lorne spooned up around him, his arm circling John’s waist. It felt nice. It felt safe. 

He slept. 

~*~ 

Pressing the last sigil on the DHD, John waited for the Gate to finish dialing. He had dialed the Atlantis Alpha Site, twice. The Gate wouldn’t connect. It would not connect directly to Atlantis either. Athos, Sateda, even the Genii home world, all failed to connect. Wondering if he had ended up back in the Milky Way galaxy, he tried the Earth Alpha Site and then SGO. Nothing connected. This Gate was functional; Lorne had dialed an address he knew in order to check it.

He was either in a completely different galaxy, or he was experiencing a time or reality shift. The weird wormhole when he’d come through was clueing him in to that probability. He had read enough mission reports at SGO to know this kind of thing happened.

“I’m sorry, Ja’han. For what it is worth, I am sorry.” Lorne patted his shoulder as John stared at the cold and unresponsive Stargate. 

He nodded and shrugged, turning away. He had no way back. The gateship was a smoldering wreck at the bottom of the ravine. The DHD wasn’t working. Atlantis and Rodney had no way of knowing what had happened to him. He was stranded. Thanks to the DranWrin’s generous gesture, now he knew. This was his life now. Sub-Commander John Sheppard of SGO, lately of Atlantis, was no more. 

He was just Ja’han. 

~*~ 

Over the six cycles since he had come to Lorne Bardero, Ja’han had settled in comfortably. Most of the time, Lorne didn’t require much of him, other than a lot of sex. He was an attentive bed partner; he didn’t leave Ja’han hanging or deprive him of pleasure. Ja’han had heard from the other telpa he had befriended in the house that many other Wrins were cruel. Lorne had never once raised a hand or the riding crop to him. But Ja’han went out of his way to avoid displeasing the DranWrin. He liked Lorne. He liked him a lot.

His voice had not returned, Lorne had even brought him to a doctor to check to see why. He could croak out a few sounds but they weren’t words, so he rarely did it, it bothered him to hear it so he could only imagine how it sounded to others. The doctors said his physiology had reacted negatively to the silencing drugs, a rare side effect, it had been known to happen in the past. They were not sure when or if his voice would ever come back. Since Ja’han had not known the silencing was meant to be temporary until the doctor mentioned it, he wasn’t too bothered to hear the news; he had long since grown accustomed to being silent. When it became apparent that he would not be speaking any time soon, Lorne had hired Ja’han a tutor, so that he could learn the written language of Nelos that was spoken in The Springs. Ja’han was comfortably clothed, well fed and somewhat pampered by the DranWrin. 

One evening, Lorne came into the chambers while Ja’han was struggling to read a passage in a book his tutor had loaned him.

He had learned to write the basics of the language; he still spelled things phonetically, which made Lorne laugh when he read his notes. He carried a little note maker on a string around his neck that was like a white board, he could write on it over and over when his mock-sign language and charades would not do. He used it rarely, finding he didn’t really have much to say most of the time. 

Moving behind him, Lorne wrapped a blindfold over his eyes. This was one of the Wrin’s favorite games. He liked to play naked tag. They were both blindfolded, though Ja’han suspected Lorne cheated. Each touch meant another garment had to be stripped off. The first one naked had to pay a boon. If Ja’han managed to get Lorne naked, he got to be on top. He didn’t crave it much, he really did love being on the bottom, but Lorne enjoyed the changeup, which was probably why they were playing, this was Lorne’s way of letting the telpa be in control for a little while, without losing face. 

As he suspected, Lorne did not try very hard to elude him. Soon he wrapped his arms around Lorne and the DranWrin dragged the blindfold off. “You win. Same boon?” Ja’han smirked and nodded. “Now or do you want to eat first?” Ja’han pointed to the bed chamber then at Lorne. He didn’t really want to eat, his meals had not been sitting well lately, he thought perhaps he had a stomach bug. He had been vomiting occasionally. 

Laughing, Lorne strode to the bed chamber and flopped down on the bed, spread eagle on his belly. Ja’han laughed in his gravelly crow like croak, and quickly stripped off his clothes and crawled up over Lorne’s back. As usual, Lorne had already prepared himself. He did cheat at naked tag, every time and knew he would lose and have to pay this boon. He was always greased up and ready when Ja’han caught him. Pulling Lorne’s hips back, he lined up and slid inside, quickly finding a rhythm that pleased them both. Lorne grunted and moaned and called Ja’han’s name over and over. That always made Ja’han happy. It was the best part of naked tag.

After they had eaten their evening meal, Ja’han stood up, intending to retrieve his book to work through a bit more of the prose. He weaved on his feet and pitched over onto the floor pillows, landing partly across the lounging DranWrin’s lap. He felt Lorne’s hands moving over him and distantly heard Lorne calling his name as he lost consciousness. 

When he came around, he was flat on his back on the floor cushions, with a cold wet rag over his forehead and a worried Lorne leaning over him. “I think you’re sick, Ja’han. You’ve been picking at your food lately. Lula said she caught you vomiting in the bushes twice this cycle. I’ve called for a doctor.” 

Ja’han grabbed at Lorne’s hands, shaking his head. He didn’t want strangers poking at him, he hated doctors. Scowling, Lorne pulled away. “Don’t argue with me. I will beat you if you argue with me… when you aren’t sick anymore.” 

So Ja’han had to submit to being poked and prodded by the doctor. A doctor making a house call was a novelty to Ja’han. The first thing the doctor did was take a blood sample and then he made Ja’han go into the bath chamber and pee in a cup. He could hear DranWrin Lorne speaking to the doctor out in the main chamber and heard his name mentioned several times. He felt a little shaky as he went back into the other room. In fact, he wobbled and would have fallen if Lorne hadn’t rushed over and caught him and led him to one of the sofas. 

He dropped back on the pillows and let the doctor check him over. When the doctor pressed on his abdomen, Ja’han let out a scream, an actual, loud, noisy scream that tore across his ruined larynx painfully and left him panting for breath. 

“Goddess, Ja’han!” Lorne was at his side instantly, taking his face in his hands and looking down at him in panic. “Are you all right?” 

“A little tender there,” the doctor quipped. “Does that hurt when I press here telpa?” 

Giving the doctor a dirty look for the stupid question, Ja’han pursed his lips and nodded. 

“Speak up, I can’t hear you.” 

Lorne was stroking his hair as he pressed his face into Lorne’s belly. Ja’han could smell the laundry soap on the tunic, a familiar and soothing scent he associated with Lorne. 

“He doesn’t speak. He was given silencers, they ruined his throat.” 

The doctor pursed his lips. “Let me find the source of his pains, I’ll be more careful this time.” 

Uncurling slowly, clinging to Lorne’s hand, Ja’han reluctantly let the doctor continue. He nodded and chewed on his lip as each soft push across his tender abdomen caused another flare of pain. “Well, we’ll see what the results of the blood work and urine tests show. He likely has an infection in the food passages. It should pass in a few days.” 

Hovering in concern, Lorne hustled Ja’han off to bed and tucked him under the soft sheets. He slept restlessly without Lorne there beside him. A few hours later Lorne snuggled up behind Ja’han, kissed his neck and rubbed his sore belly until he fell asleep.

~*~

The next morning, Ja’han awoke to the doctor poking at his arm to wake him. His stomach immediately lurched and he rolled quickly from the bed to run to the flusher. A cold wet rag was pressed to his forehead as he hunched miserably over the bowl of the flusher. Brushing Ja’han’s shoulder-length hair back from his face, Lorne held it away with the same hand that pressed the cloth to his forehead as he retched again. The DranWrin rubbed his back, making soothing sounds. 

The doctor appeared at the door, shaking a specimen cup. “DranWrin, see if your telpa can give me another sample. I’m running the tests again myself before I leave here.”

Lorne helped him up when he struggled to get to his feet, and handed him the specimen cup. “Do you need help with that?” Shaking his head, Ja’han pissed in the cup and carried it back to the bedchamber with him. He flopped down across the bed and curled into a fetal position, his arms around his middle holding his stomach. It was worse today than it had been on other mornings, probably because the doctor had woken him suddenly from a sound sleep. When Lorne came over, sat beside him and tried to rub his stomach, Ja’han whimpered and pushed him away. Frustrated, Lorne patted his hip and left him to his misery.

The DranWrin paced the room as the doctor set up his equipment on the wide windowsill. After he had completed his mixing and dipping and looking through a microscope-like tool, he huffed and started the process over. When he was done he turned to Lorne with a perplexed look on his face. “I don’t understand it. The initial test was done in error when I sent the samples in, the name Ja’han is not common; a lab technician mistook it for a female telpa name. But I’ve just done them all myself, a full screening, and got the same results.” 

“What is wrong with my telpa?” Lorne demanded. 

“According to the tests, he’s pregnant. But that is impossible.” Both men turned to look at Ja’han, who yelped hoarsely and passed out. 

Smelling salts woke him. “Ja’han? You have to explain. Here, write what you can.” Lorne passed him the wipe off message board and the marker he used with it. 

‘Possible,’ he wrote on the board and held it up for Lorne to see. 

It was Lorne’s turn to blanch. “How? You’re a male.” 

He wiped the board and wrote in his bad translation to Lorne’s language, ‘Body change.’ 

“You’re some kind of mutant?” The doctor exclaimed, reading the message board over Lorne’s shoulder. 

Ja’han nodded and wrote, ‘Alter.’ 

“So you could really be pregnant? This isn’t just a mistake?” Lorne asked in a shocked voice as he started to believe it.

He nodded again and wrote, ‘2 sexes now.’ 

“A hermaphrodite?” the doctor asked. Ja’han frowned and nodded, the term was clinically accurate, if insulting. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Lorne demanded.

‘No think me could be,’ Ja’han wrote awkwardly, not knowing the correct words, tenses or verbs. He phonetically spelled out ‘Me keri. Lornah panor. Bonded. Baby.’

“Kah-ree? Pay-nohr? I guess those are words in your language?” Ja’han nodded. Sitting down hard on the edge of the bed, Lorne looked completely flummoxed. “I never expected this. Never.”

The doctor was scratching his head and staring at Ja’han. “How do I get it out? For that matter, how did it get in!?!”

He rolled his eyes and wiped the board clean. As if the explanation wasn’t hard enough; finding the words with his limited written vocabulary was frustrating as all hell. ‘Egg bag in me. Doctor cut baby out me.’

Evan read the words and went completely white. He looked at the doctor and demanded, “Can you even do that?”

“I suppose so. It has been done on females in rare emergencies to save the baby. It is a very risky procedure, doing surgery. So many complications can arise.” He looked at Ja’han again. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

‘NO!!!’ John wrote in very large letters and exclamation marks.

“I don’t understand, how could nature have not provided a way for the fetus to get out?”

‘No nature. Science. Alter me.’

“This was deliberately done to you? You weren’t born a hermaphrodite?” The doctor, over his initial shock, was now in fascinated scientist mode. Ja’han recognized the shift when it happened, McKay used to do it all the time.

‘No. No born. Made.’

“Why would someone do this, what possible purpose?”

Ja’han shook his hand, it was beginning to cramp, he was out of practice with writing, and the Nelosian alphabet was rather intricate. ‘People sick. No baby. People die.’ How in the hell did he convey helpful alien? He wiped the board clean and drew a picture of a cartoon flying saucer with a happy alien with antenna sitting in the little bubble.

Lorne and the doctor stared at the drawing, looked at each other, then at Ja’han. He shrugged. ‘Help come stars.’

Trying to understand, Lorne tilted his head an stared. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “People from space, from another world came to help and that was how they helped you, by changing you?” Relieved to be understood, Ja’han nodded happily.

“People die,” the doctor mumbled. “A disease?”

Smiling, Ja’han nodded and pointed the pen at ‘No baby. People die.’

“A problem with fertility?” The doctor guessed correctly, earning another nod.

The doctor harrumphed and started collecting his equipment, packing it into a leather case. He turned to Lorne and said, “Could you get the boy a glass of water, please, DranWrin?”

As soon as Lorne had left the room, the doctor leaned close to Ja’han and asked, “Is the DranWrin the… other parent?”

Insulted, Ja’han wrote ‘YES!!!’

“I needed to know. So then the pregnancy cannot be further along than six cycles. That is when you came here, correct?” In answer, Ja’han just held up the board again.

Coming back in with the water, Lorne passed the mug to his telpa. He tilted his head to read the board. “Yes to what?”

“The pregnancy cannot be more than six cycles along.” The doctor replied smoothly. “I suppose congratulations are in order, DranWrin, though the circumstances are certainly odd.”

“Thank you.” Lorne looked over at Ja’han and frowned when he saw that the telpa was once again curled in a ball on the center of the bed. “How do I care for him, what do I need to do?”

“He’ll know better than me, I’ve never dealt with anything like this. The normal advice for women is to eat nutrient rich foods and get a full night of sleep. No lifting, he should not carry anything heavier than my bag.” He handed the bag to Lorne to judge the weight. The DranWrin passed it back. “If he has severe cramping or bleeding, bring him to the hospital. If he continues to vomit for more than three days, bring him in, we’ll need to take measures to see to his nutrition. I will be briefing my associates about the case. You may receive a few callers to look in on him. The ones I have authorized will have my calling card, do not feel obligated to let anyone else in to see him.”

The doctor walked over to the bed and patted Ja’han’s leg. “We’ll see you through this, young man. Do not worry. Try to eat, even if you are not hungry.” Ja’han nodded and turned his face into the pillow he was now clutching tightly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lorne told the doctor.

Ja’han stared at the door as it closed behind them. Pregnant. Of all the fucking dumb luck! He’d though he was safe, without any genetically altered panor around. But apparently, normal, healthy, old fashioned humans that had not lived through the Gate Wars could breed with a keri. This just sucked. The one thing he had not wanted, that he had feared the most about bonding had come to pass.

He wondered if the mix of emotions he felt for Lorne was a result of the bonding hormones rampaging through him. Lorne might not be a panor, but John was still keri. What if none of them were real? Doubt crept in. He was a hormonal mess. He hated that about being keri.

He fingered the gold collar thinking that Lorne would be tired of him soon. He grew bored of telpa quickly, according to the rest of the household. He was going to find himself sold off. Him and his baby. Of for the love of Pete, he was going to have a fucking baby!

~*~

After showing the doctor to the door, and paying the man for his time, Evan walked slowly back to his personal chambers. He felt a little numb, shocked by the news that he was going to be a father. He had not expected this. He had always gone out of his way to ensure that the female telpa he played with did not conceive. There were herbs and teas for that. He’d stopped taking them when he sold off the last females and decided to go back to males exclusively.

And now his male telpa was pregnant. This just complicated matters more. He’d already been confused by the depth of what he felt for Ja’han. He spent more time with him than he ever had with any telpa in the past. He kept Ja’han in his chambers; he shared his bed with him every night. It was unprecedented. When he was away from the Bardero, he thought about what his telpa was doing. He was, he realized, infatuated with the man.

A man was going to have his baby.

The doctor had a few words to say to Evan outside of Ja’han’s hearing. He had expressed his alarm and concern for the telpa’s well being. He had told Evan that the likelihood of Ja’han surviving the surgery to birth the baby was slim. This particular surgery was only done in extreme cases, when it was known the mother would not survive and the choice had been made to save the child. The doctor said the survival rate was less than twenty percent.

Ja’han would likely die from this. As that thought sunk in, Evan stopped and slammed his fists against the wall. He’d finally found someone worth keeping, and now he faced losing him within the year. He wondered if Ja’han realized how precarious his condition was.

He paced the hallways for a time, going over everything in his mind, coming to terms with it all. He paced until he no longer felt his breath catch when he thought of what waited at the end of this. Feeling that he shouldn’t leave Ja’han alone too long, he went back to his chambers.

The telpa was asleep, hunched in on himself on the bed. There was a tear on his cheek. Gently wiping it away, Lorne shifted the pillows aside and curled up around Ja’han’s back, stroking his side and hip. He could think just as well here as he could if he were out walking the hallways. Evan needed to be here right now.

~*~

Ja’han startled awake as the Midday Bell clanged. He’d slept the morning away. Apparently, so had the DranWrin, Lorne was snoring behind him, his arm and a leg thrown over Ja’han. Well, that was something; he wasn’t untouchable due to his condition. He’d feared Lorne might throw him out of the bed immediately.

“You’re awake?”

He patted Lorne’s hand in answer.

“Feeling any better? I think you needed the sleep.”

Picking up the wipe board, he held it up where Lorne could see the word ‘yes!!!’

The DranWrin chuckled and rolled away to sit up. Ja’han flopped onto his back and looked up at him. It was talking time, he guessed.

Beating Lorne to the punch, he picked up the board and fished the pen out from where it had rolled under his ass. He wiped it clean and wrote, ‘me fear’ in big letters.

Lorne caught his hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the palm. “Me fear too, my telpa.”

‘Danger.’

“Yeah, I know, the doctor told me that outside. I won’t lie to you, Ja’han, I’m very worried.”

‘Fear for me?’

“Yeah. I don’t want to lose you. I just found you.” Lorne leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

Trying to reassure Lorne, Ja’han wrote, ‘Me strong. Me health.’

“Not at the moment. But we won’t borrow troubles from tomorrow. We’ll just do what we can now. So now, we get some food into you.” Lorne kissed his cheek and climbed off the bed.

The DranWrin was worried about him; he didn’t want to lose him. That made Ja’han stupidly happy. At the moment, he didn’t care a bit that it might be hormones; Lorne cared about him, on some level.

~*~

Two cycles later, Ja’han was mostly over what he was calling morning sickness, for lack of a better term. Some foods still made him retch, and some smells were too potent, but he was feeling much better.

The doctors, and there had been six of them so far, had all said the Ja’han needed fresh air and exercise, so Lorne had cleared part of his day to walk with him, either in the vineyards or into the city. Ja’han was not allowed to wander alone.

The DranWrin had a meeting to attend in the city, so he suggested Ja’han come along, since it was supposed to be a short one. Lorne Bardero was primarily a vineyard, which left Lorne blocks of time to do other things, like play with a new body telpa for a few cycles. But he did need to attend to business.

Ja’han was allowed into the room, though he had to stand by the wall with the other telpa that were in attendance. Looking around, he saw two other familiar faces; Laura Cadman and David Parrish had doppelgangers here too. He wondered if anyone else he knew might pop up. David seemed to be pretty tight with Lorne; they laughed and talked before and after the meeting.

“Are you up to a meal? David invited us out to eat.” Ja’han nodded and followed Lorne.

David, known as Wrin Parr’ish here, told them the restaurant he had reservations at was only a short distance away, and asked if Lorne would mind the walk?

They didn’t so they set out. They had not gone far when three men stepped out from an alleyway and confronted Parr’ish. They called him by name, so Ja’han knew this was no random mugging. Two more fell in behind them.

John instinctively went back to back with Lorne, facing three of the attackers. They had sticks, not unlike Teyla’s fighting sticks. Two others had knives; the one menacing David had a knife. Sizing up which he could take out quickest, Ja’han waited to see if Parr’ish could talk his way out of this.

The conversation grew heated and then one of the knife bearers lunged at Lorne, grabbed him by the arm and drove the knife into his side. Lorne went to his knees, hands clutching the wound. With a roar of anger, John dove at the stabber. He knocked him to the ground and broke his nose with a quick jab of his palm against the man’s face. He rolled and came up with the knife and went after the second one holding a blade on Parr’ish.

He grabbed the knife hand and twisted the guys arm around behind his back, pulling up until he released the knife. John kicked it towards Parr’ish. Then he broke the guys arm, just because he was feeling vengeful and mean. The three stick wielders were coming at him now. This, he could handle. He smiled wickedly and urged the first one closer.

Teyla had taught him well, she had his whole team trained together, so John had often trained three on one. He lunged in, feinted and came up under the guy’s arm, disarming him and picking up the stick. He clubbed the guy upside the head with his own weapon, knocking him out. Three down. He spun and side kicked one of the remaining pair in the groin, catching his stick and pulling it from his grasp.

Grinning, John twirled the sticks and clobbered the guy with a succession of hits, knocking him out as well.

The last assailant looked around, saw the odds and dropped his stick, turned and ran like hell. John chased him a few steps, but then Lorne called out, “Ja’han, no, come back. Please.”

In his battle lust, he’d forgotten about Lorne. He spun around and ran back to his DranWrin, kneeling on the pavement beside him. Parr’ish was kneeling on his other side, a handkerchief pressed to the wound.

“That was frightening. Where did you learn to do that?” Parr’ish asked.

John scowled at him and pointed to the wound. “It isn’t deep. Go get a constable.”

Pointing to his throat, John shook his head. He pushed Parr’ish’s hand aside and applied pressure then pointed to Parr’ish and then away.

“He doesn’t speak, David, you’ll have to go for help.” Lorne said quietly. He was obviously in pain and his color was ashen. Grunting in irritation at being told what to do by a mere telpa, Parr’ish stood and jogged off down the street.

Wincing, Lorne looked up at Ja’han. “You really were a soldier.”

Ja’han nodded. He lifted the handkerchief away and breathed a sigh of relief when the blood was merely a trickle. It was a shallow wound. He turned the wadded cloth over and pressed the less saturated side to the puncture.

He heard a whining sound coming towards them. “The sick wagon,” Lorne said when he saw Ja’han’s confused look.

Lorne clutched his tunic and pulled him down until their noses were very close together. “I’m proud of you, Ja’han.” He leaned up and kissed him before sinking back to the ground.

Stroking his forehead, Ja’han watched the sick wagon come closer anxiously. When it arrived, Parr’ish leapt out of the back with two orderlies. They made quick work of scooping up Lorne and taking him away. Ja’han was left on the sidewalk with Parr’ish.

“Well, you earned yourself a boon, telpa. Fancy a pair of boots?” Wrin Parr’ish looked down at Ja’han’s sandals. Ja’han shook his head and pointed after the sick wagon.

Parr’ish nodded. “Yes, yes, we’re going, the cobbler is on the way to the hospital. We’ll get you a shirt as well. Take off your collar; put it in your pocket.”

Ja’han fingered the collar and shook his head.

With a huff of irritation, Parr’ish snapped, “Suit yourself; they will not let you in if they think you’re a telpa.”

Oh. Parr’ish was trying to help. He turned and bent his neck to Parr’ish so he could undo the clasp. The Wrin did so and the collar dropped into Ja’han’s hand. He felt even more bereft now than he had when the sick wagon had pulled away.

Parr’ish stopped in two shops and Ja’han had boots again and a normal shirt in the blue of Lorne’s Bardero. They had no trouble gaining admittance to the hospital. He saw why Parr’ish had been concerned; there was a line of telpa sitting against the wall near the entrance. They were brought to the room where Lorne was.

A doctor was just finishing stitching Lorne’s side closed. He gave them a wavering smile and a limp wave. “Are you here to collect him?”

“Yes. I’m Wrin Parr’ish, I’m a friend.”

“He’s in no condition to walk; you’ll have to hire a motor carriage.”

Parr’ish nodded. Ja’han had not even thought of that, he was grateful for the Wrin’s company.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” Lorne said as he looked Ja’han up and down. His eyes went to the open collar of his shirt and he frowned at the bareness of his telpa’s neck. Ja’han quickly patted his pocket and waved a hand around at the hospital room. Nodding tightly, Lorne was still visibly upset that his mark on Ja’han had been removed.

“If it worries you so much, Evan, mark him permanently.” Parr’ish was leaning against the wall watching the exchange.

“I’m going to,” Lorne hissed at his friend.

He was? Ja’han smiled. Lorne was going to permanently mark him. No telpa in the Lorne Bardero bore a mark. He meant something to Lorne. Too happy to resist, he leaned over and kissed Lorne’s lips.

“Oh, please,” Parr’ish snapped just as the doctor came in.

“Ah, is this your life partner then?” the doctor asked Lorne.

And Lorne shocked both Ja’han and Parr’ish by answering, “Yes, he is.”

The doctor gave Ja’han a list of instructions, which he nodded his way through, trying hard to pay attention while his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. “You can take him home now.” The doctor left the room.

“Evan, you cannot be serious.” Parr’ish advanced on Lorne as he sat up. “A telpa!”

“I am serious. You saw for yourself, David, he’s no telpa. I’m emancipating him. I’m setting him free. He can do whatever he wants to do.” His tone was sharp enough that David knew to drop the subject. Lorne climbed off the exam table and stiffly limped to the door.

Free? What the hell?

~*~

By the time they got him home, Lorne was exhausted and slept the clock around. When he woke, Ja’han was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his knee bouncing, an outward sign of his nerves.

“Hello.” Lorne stretched and then winced as it pulled his stitches. “I need help getting to the flusher.

Ja’han jumped up and got under Lorne’s arm, letting him lean on him. He stayed beside him until he was finished and took him back to bed. He made Lorne sit up until he had fluffed the pillows and stacked them for Lorne to rest against. When he was settled, Ja’han wet out to the other room and returned with a plate of cheese and fruit and a mug of fruit juice, offering it to Lorne.

“Get me paper and a pen, please,” Lorne requested. When Ja’han returned, he told him, “Go find Lula, tell her to get my arbitrator and bring him here immediately.”

Ja’han rubbed his throat.

“Lula can read. Oh, here…” Lorne wrote a note and handed it to Ja’han.

When he returned, Ja’han fussed and hover enough to irritate Lorne. “If you do not sit down, I’m sending you over to Bardero Parr’ish for a disciplinary session with Max. Don’t even try pleading your belly, Max is a Master.”

Flouncing to his chair, Ja’han sent him a smoldering look, pouted and curled up with a book to ignore Evan.

The arbitrator arrived and was shown to the DranWrin’s beside. “DranWrin Lorne, my boy! Is this serious?” The old man waved a hand at Lorne.

“No, just a scratch, I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“What may I do for you?”

“I need Papers of Emancipation drawn up for my telpa,” Lorne said, smiling as he heard the thump of Ja’han’s feet hitting the floor.

He was surprised when Ja’han rushed to the bedside, grabbing his hand and shaking his head. He pulled up the wipe board and wrote, ‘Evan no send me away, please, no!”

“You think…? No, no Ja’han.” Evan clasped his face and kissed him, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “I’m not sending you away. If you want to stay, you stay. This is your home, as long as you want to be here.”

The soon-to-be-ex-telpa gave a sigh of relief and leaned over to kiss Evan’s lips warmly before going back to his chair.

“Is there a problem, DranWrin?”

“No. No problem. I didn’t make myself clear to my telpa.”

“This is the one you wish to emancipate?”

Lorne nodded. “It is.”

“Under what condition, DranWrin? You know the law my boy.”

“Meritorious service, he saved my life and the life of Wrin David Parr’ish. David bought him boots.”

The arbitrator looked over at Ja’han and smirked. “Well, you certainly impressed the Wrin if he did that.”

“I wrote it out, you need only countersign and apply your seal.” Lorne held out a piece of paper.

“An emancipated telpa needs a full name. Do you have another name, telpa?” The arbitrator asked.

Picking up his wipe board, Ja’han wrote in Nelosian ‘Sheppard’ and held it up.

The arbitrator wrote it down and then applied his wax seal. He folded the paper and handed it to Ja’han. “Well then, Ja’han Sheppard, you are a free man. Stay out of trouble. I shall enter an official note in the logbook at the Magistrar’s office as well as the telpa registration office. If there is nothing else, DranWrin?”

“No. Ja’han could you show him out?”

Ja’han nodded and walked the old man to the door. After closing it, he leaned back against the heavy wood and pulled the paper out and looked at the document that had stripped him of his identity as a telpa.

He walked upstairs slowly and went into the bedroom. Lorne was resting against the pillows, but not sleeping. He was watching Ja’han through drooping eyelids. Ja’han straightened the blankets and signed ‘sleep’ at Lorne.

“I will. Come and sit with me.” Lorne held out a hand. He’d said come, as a request, not Rer as an order. Ja’han climbed up on to the bed and cuddled up against Lorne’s good side. Lorne’s fingers combed through his hair idly, raking his scalp, which always soothed him and sent him to sleep.

Lorne’s voice jolted him from his drowsy haze. “Are you going to stay?”

He picked up the board and pen. “Lorne want me?”

“You wrote Evan last time. Use Evan. There’s too few people that do.”

He scratched out Lorne and wrote Evan. Then he tapped the question again.

“Please don’t leave, Ja’han. I want you to stay.”

He was going to anyway; he just wanted to hear it. Ja’han snuggled down, buried his nose in the crook of Evan’s neck and went to sleep.

~*~

Four and a half moons into the pregnancy, Ja’han was perplexed; surely he should be showing by now? He stood in front of the mirror on Evan’s dressing table and held his tunic up. There was just the slightest bulge in his abdomen, noticeable to him because his abs had always been hard and well defined.

Evan came in from the bath chamber and spotted him and laughed. He came up behind him and circled his arms around, rubbing over his belly. “It’s there. I can tell, you feel different.”

‘No bump,’ Ja’han wrote and held the board up over his shoulder for Evan to read.

“I used to be able to pinch this; now I can’t.” He rubbed near Ja’han’s belly button. “You used to love fried brembl fish; now you vomit anytime you smell it. You used to stay up until all hours reading; now you fall asleep before the Late Bell most nights. There’s a baby in there, Ja’han.” Evan pushed his hair aside and kissed the back of his neck.

‘Doctor?’

“Do you want to see one of them? Would it make you feel better?”

Ja’han nodded. He was concerned that maybe something was wrong with the baby.

“I wanted to go out today; we can go to the hospital first.”

‘Go where?’ This was the first Evan had mentioned about going out. There was snow on the ground, and Evan had been a bit overprotective, not letting Ja’han walk on the snow and ice. He’d had to take his exercise doing laps around the Bardero.

Evan rubbed a hand over the spot he had kissed on Ja’han’s neck. “I thought maybe you might want to take my mark.”

For an answer, Ja’han turned in Evan’s arms and kissed him.

They were able to see the doctor that was in charge of pregnancies, on Earth it would have been an obstetrician, but the Nelosians didn’t differentiate medical specialties by title. The young doctor, Tam, had been following Ja’han’s case closely, every few cycles he would come by the Bardero and check on his progress. Ja’han had not seen him in three cycles.

When Doctor Tam saw that it was Ja’han waiting in the examining room, his face lit up, and then grew serious again. “Hello, Ja’han! I hope nothing is wrong?”

‘No bump.’

Evan leaned against the wall and watched, as he always did. “Ja’han seems concerned that he can’t really see anything yet.”

“Lie back here, let’s have a look.” Doctor Tam guided him back onto the table and then lifted Ja’han’s tunic. His hand was gentle as he felt over his abdomen. “Were you very physically fit, before the pregnancy?”

“He was,” Evan answered as Ja’han nodded.

“Sometimes, when the abdominal wall is exceptionally strong, it takes a bit longer for the pregnancy to show, the muscles hold the uterine sac back, so the pregnancy is more inside than usual. You have gained weight, Ja’han, you were so thin that it isn’t showing unusually yet. Your middle is thicker.” The answer calmed Ja’han’s nerves a bit, it made sense. He used to do a hundred sit ups a day, his abs were very strong. He had needed a new pair of trousers, his had gotten a little snug in the waistband.

“The reason I was so glad to see you is that I was going to try to persuade you to come in to the hospital for a special test, Ja’han. We have a machine on loan from a hospital in the south that is doing renovations.”

“What sort of machine?” Evan asked, suspiciously. He did not want Ja’han undergoing any test that was not absolutely necessary.

“It uses sound waves to map a picture of the fetus.”

‘Soundograph,’ Ja’han wrote the word phonetically on his board as soon as Doctor Tam said sound waves. He was excited; he sat up and was nodding at Evan and the doctor.

“It looks like Ja’han agrees. Will it take long?”

“Not very. We can go now, the woman that was scheduled for Fifth Bell had her baby already, quite prematurely, I am afraid.” Doctor Tam was sad for a moment.

While they waited for Doctor Tam and the technicians to set everything up, Evan stood beside Ja’han nervously. “You’ve seen this kind of thing before?”

Ja’han nodded. ‘Many times. Many machines in old home.’ He talked more about Earth and Atlantis now. He had even told Evan some stories, written out laboriously in longhand to practice his grammar and vocabulary. He had not told Evan about the doppelgangers. That still freaked Ja’han out a bit.

“We’re ready, Ja’han, please step away DranWrin Lorne.” Evan kissed his forehead and moved back against the wall. He refused to let Ja’han out of his sight; it was an established rule for his treatment. He might not be Lorne’s telpa any longer, but he was part of Lorne’s household, a ward of Lorne Bardero, and as such, Evan had a say in his health care.

A device was pressed to Ja’han’s abdomen and moved around. A screen near the doctor’s head flickered and then a solid gray thumping mass appeared on the field of silver. The technician touched a button and the image froze. He tapped the screen. “There we are, I think we have a pretty good image now. Oh, my.” The technician looked over at Ja’han and then at the Doctors, waving for them to come over.

Lorne was staring with a baffled look on his face while Ja’han tilted his head quizzically. Ja’han blinked and then fumbled his hand around frantically for his wipe board. ‘Two heads. Baby has two heads!’ He held it up to Evan, a distraught look on his face.

“No, no, Ja’han, please be calm. Stay still now. This is a little unexpected, given how little weight you’ve gained, but it looks like you’ve got two babies in there. Twins.”

For the second time since coming to Nelos, Ja’han passed out cold.

~*~

“We don’t have to do this. You’ve had a lot of excitement today.” Evan said to Ja’han as he pulled the motor carriage up in front of the marking shop.

‘I want to,’ Ja’han signed in the simple signs they had worked out between them. He reached for the board. ‘Mark occasion.’

He smiled at his word play as he held up the board.

“You think you’re very funny, don’t you?”

Ja’han nodded and smirked at Evan.

“So do I. Let’s go.” He got out of the motor carriage and went the door of the shop, holding it open for Ja’han to go first. Frustratingly Ja’han refused to go through as usual, grabbing the edge of the door and holding it for Evan. The one time Evan had challenged him on it, his answer had been a cryptic, ‘I am not a woman.’

A man with several tattoos on his arms and throat came from behind a curtain at the back of the shop to meet them. “How may I be of service?”

“A Bardero mark,” Lorne answered.

“For you or your companion?” The markmaker took in Ja’han’s apparel and lack of collar and correctly assumed he was not a telpa. That pleased Lorne.

Patting Ja’han’s arm, the DranWrin answered, “For my partner.”

“Very good.” The man moved to a small pedestal. He pulled a book labeled ‘Bardero’ from beneath the stand and rested it on top. “Which Bardero, please?”

“Lorne.”

The man started flipping through pages, made a face and then scanned the index. “It seems that mark is not in the trade registry. Have you head telpa marked in The Springs in the past?”

With one eyebrow raised, Ja’han turned to look at Lorne with curiosity. Evan and his father had been privately marked as infants. There had not been a telpa marked publically since his great-grandsire’s time, before the registries had begun. “No, actually. The vineyard mark is in the trade directory, but that isn’t what we want.”

“Do you have a sample of the mark? I can copy it.”

Evan took off his coat and handed it to Ja’han. He tugged his tunic up and pushed the waistband of his pants down, showing the red mark high on his right hip. The man came around the pedestal with a paper and lead and quickly sketched out the mark. “Are you the DranWrin?” The red color of the ink had clued the man in.

“I am.” Lorne tucked his shirt back in.

“What ink color would you like me to use?”

He hadn’t thought about that. If Ja’han were a telpa he would be marked in black. If he had been Evan’s brother, the Bardero’s color, blue, would have been used. If he had been a DranaWrina, marrying into the Bardero, blue would be appropriate. Ja’han was legally a ward, which meant blue. However, Evan, as DranWrin, had the right to choose and could toss tradition out.

“Red. He’s my heir.”

“I’ll just go set everything up.” The man disappeared into the back.

Ja’han was staring at him in disbelief. Evan shrugged and took his coat back, gesturing for Ja’han to remove his. “The baby… babies would be the heirs, if something happened to me, I’d want you to be able to legally control everything for them until they came of age. I already changed my testament with the arbitrator. I guess I need to start teaching you how to run a vineyard.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Ja’han went into the back when the shopkeeper motioned that he was ready. Evan followed, leaving their coats atop the book stand.

He sat on the stool and bent his head forward; his hair fell and curtained his face so that Evan couldn’t see his expression. “Ja’han, you don’t have to have it there, you can have it on your foot, or somewhere else if you prefer.”

Shaking his head, Ja’han tapped the back of his neck with his fingers. He held perfectly still as the design was drawn onto his skin.

“You’ll feel a pinch,” the markmaker warned as he pressed the needle in place.

After the marking had been going on for a while, Evan stepped over to Ja’han’s side and peeked at the progress. He then bent over and looked up into Ja’han’s face and picked up his hand, giving it a squeeze. “It’s going quickly, are you all right?” Ja’han made the finger symbol that he used to sign that all was well, forefinger touched to his thumb, making a circle.

“Most people would have complained by now,” the markmaker said.

“My Ja’han is not most people.”

~*~

It hurt, but not too badly, it was tolerable. He was amused by Evan’s hovering. It was a tattoo, not major surgery. That was coming in a few months. At the thought, he sobered.

Ja’han knew what Evan and Doctor Tam wee not saying, that the surgery to take the baby… now babies… was extremely high risk. They didn’t even have a word here for the procedure. If he was home, in Atlantis or on Earth, the procedure would be routine. Not here. Here, he might die. He saw the panic in Evan’s eyes now and then when Evan thought he wasn’t looking. Lorne was putting up a good front, but Ja’han knew they were both terrified by what was coming.

He had been slowly coming to terms with the fact that these might be his last few months. He was almost okay with it. He was leaving Evan with a piece of himself, now two pieces. The thing that was bothering him the most was leaving Evan and missing out on the child… children’s lives.

Since had never intended to bond, dying in childbirth had not been the way he ever imagined going out. When his family had died in that car wreck, alone with no toes, he’d joined the military so that he could fly. In the back of his mind, he had always expected to go out violently, in the line of duty. Ja’han had long ago resigned himself to dying in his prime. It wasn’t the dying that concerned him; it was the ones he was leaving behind. Now he had people that he loved to leave behind.

The markmaker finished his task. Ja’han was relieved; he was depressing himself with his brooding thoughts. He plastered a smile on his face as he sat up. He listened with half an ear to the care instructions the markmaker was telling them both, since Evan was giving the man his full and rapt attention.

It made his eyes mist up, as it always did when he thought about how Evan always took care of him. No one else had, since his parents had died so long ago. He hadn’t needed anyone since then, he’d learned to get by without. But now he didn’t have to. He reached over and clasped Evan’s hand, squeezing it and smiling warmly at him when he glanced up.

So, the end might be coming. Ja’han was damned sure going to keep living every day until then, and he was going out kicking and screaming.

~*~

A nurse came down the hallway from the operating chamber. “DranWrin Lorne?”

Evan had bolted out of his seat when he heard his footsteps approaching. “How’s Ja’han?”

“Still in surgery, he’s holding stable. Would you like to meet your daughter?”

He noticed then that the emissary from the forbidden operating area was holding a tiny bundle in his arms. “Daughter?”

The nurse held the swaddled newborn out to him. “Support the neck and head; let her body rest on your arm, that’s the way. Would you like to sit with her for a short time?”

Evan nodded and stared down into the tiny face peeping out from the blankets. Her eyes were closed as she slept, blissfully unaware of all the chaos that had gone into ensuring her safe arrival in the world.

Returning to the chair he’d claimed as his own in the waiting chamber, he carefully lowered himself down, trying not to jostle the baby. The nurse leaned over them and tugged the edge of the blanket down. “You can unwrap her a little if you want to count fingers and toes. That’s a fairly normal reaction for a father, the first thing most of them do.”

Nodding, Evan undid the blanket and touched the tip of his finger to one tiny little hand. “She’s so tiny.” He looked up at the nurse, concerned.

“She is, but she had to share the space with her sibling, so she didn’t have a lot of room to grow. She’s small, but she’s healthy, she passed all the tests.”

“And the other baby?” Evan asked, wondering where the other was.

The nurse looked away down the hall and then back to Evan. “Another nurse was taking the second baby. I could go check…”

Evan nodded, stroking his finger along the impossibly tiny cheek. She yawned and turned her head from side to side, giving Evan a glimpse of her slightly pointed ears, Ja’han’s ears, his dark hair too. He examined her feet, marveling at the miniscule toenails. He wrapped her back up; concerned that she might catch a draft.

The nurse returned, pushing a small rolling cart with raised edges on top; it was a baby bed, which contained a wriggling bundle that was emitting high pitched cries. “Would you like to trade?”

Evan nodded and the nurse expertly took the sleeping baby from Evan and placed the crying baby in his arms. “Two healthy daughters, DranWrin Lorne. Congratulations.”

“Why is she crying?” he asked helplessly, looking down at the squalling infant with dismay.

“You try being yanked out a warm quiet bed and getting passed around by big noisy people and see if you don’t protest a little!” The nurse laughed and patted Evan’s arm. “She’s fine. Some sleep, some cry, some just stare at you. Each baby is different.

“How is Ja’han?”

The nurse grew serious. “The doctor will be out to talk to you, DranWrin. I’m going to help in the operating chamber. I’ll leave the babies here for a short time, then I’ll come back to get them.”

“Thank you.”

Evan tried rocking back and forth a little, and then bounced his arm slightly as he had seen Sassa Cadman do once when she was soothing one of her telpa’s infants. The baby quieted somewhat, and stopped wriggling around, so he continued the rocking motion. He stood up and started to walk around the chamber, and the baby fell silent and stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

She had lighter hair, and her ears were rounded, like Evan’s. The blankets were loose, so he peeked under the blanket and looked at her little hands and feet. Like her sister, she was tiny, but perfect. He bent his head and kissed her forehead, then went over to the bed and kissed his other daughter.

The nurse came back and held his arms out for the baby. Lorne reluctantly passed her over. “You’ll be able to come up to the nursery in after you’ve spoken to the doctor and sit with them.” He watched as they were wheeled away.

Doctor Tam passed the nurse in the corridor and stopped him, taking a few moments to look at the babies. He came into the waiting chamber and walked over to Evan.

“How is he?”

“He made it through the surgery. That is the first hurdle. My main concerns are post operative infection and hemorrhaging. That is how we lose most patients after a surgery of this kind. So far, he seems to be doing well. If he makes it through the night, his chances go up significantly.”

Evan nodded; he and Ja’han had been warned about this. Doctor Tam pursed his lips, “Ordinarily, I would keep a patient sedated after such a serious surgery, but I think Ja’han would like to see the babies as soon as possible. As soon as the anesthetics wear off, we’ll let you in to see him.”

A boon he hadn’t expected. “Thank you, Doctor Tam.”

“There’s something else you should know,” the doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “This won’t happen again, Ja’han won’t be able to conceive again. The surgery destroyed the integrity of the womb, we had to remove it and the egg sac connected to it entirely in order to minimize the bleeding.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that news is going to upset him,” Evan replied.

“I thought you should know.”

“We’ve two daughters, I think we’ll take that boon and praise the goddess and be happy. I just want Ja’han to heal.”

Doctor Tam nodded and started to walk away and then turned back. “I thought you said Ja’han couldn’t speak?”

“He can’t.”

“What was the original diagnosis?”

“The silencers he was injected with nine moons ago interacted negatively with his physiology. I’ve only heard him make a sound once, when the doctor was examining him seven moons ago and pressed on his belly and hurt him, he screamed.”

“He was talking under the anesthetic. Normally, I ignore a patient’s jabbering out of respect for their privacy, but since it was unexpected, I paid a bit more attention.”

Ja’han could talk? Evan was shocked. “Why hasn’t he spoken to me?”

“He might not be aware that he has regained the ability. When you see him, you might mention it.”

Curious, Evan asked, “What was he saying?”

“I couldn’t understand him, he was speaking another language. He did say your name a few times. Someone will be along to bring you up to the nursery. I’ll be saying a few prayers for your family, DranWrin Lorne.”

“Evan, please. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Doctor Tam.”

The doctor clasped Evan’s outstretched hand. “Call me Simon.”

{Epilogue}

“Da, wake up.”

“Mmm.”

“Da, I gotta make water. You gotta hold me.”

Evan rolled over and pushed the covers back, groggily stumbling out of the bed and scooping Beth up into his arms. She twirled her fingers in his hair as he walked to the bath chamber. “You’re big enough to go on the flusher by yourself, Bethie.”

“I’m scared at night.”

He put her down and waited patiently while she did what she came in here to do.

When her hands were washed, she held her arms out, and he picked her back up, snuggling her close. Beth was the cuddler, the quiet and serious one. “Can I sleep with you, Da?”

He gave a mock sigh of impatience and capitulated, carrying her back to bed with him. He settled her in, kissed her head and then went back to sleep.

Only to be roused by a tiny tugging on his finger. He opened his eyes to see Becca staring intently at him. “Do you have to make water too?”

“No,” she replied petulantly. “How come Bethie gets to sleep with you?”

“Do you want to come up too, Becca?”

She nodded. He leaned over and picked her up. She crawled over his hip, across her sister and tried to wedge her way under the covers, waking Bethie, who protested with a whine and a punch.

“What’s going on here? Are we being invaded?”

“By tiny little monsters,” Evan replied. “Are you going to protect me, Ja’han?”

“Always. Come here monster!” Ja’han lunged at Becca and started tickling her, which made Bethie jump up and attack him, turning the bed into a tickling battlefield.

“Daddy, no fair, your hands are bigger!” Bethie cried as he grabbed both of her little hands in one of his.

“Ah, but there’s two of you,” he reached for Becca, but she escaped by crawling over Evan.

“In the interest of fairness, I return the combatant to the arena!” Evan laughed and rolled over, flipping Becca back within range of Ja’han.

When the squeals and giggles got out of control, Evan complained, “Do you have to do tickle fights in the middle of the night, they are never going to go to sleep now.”

“Sure they will.” Ja’han said with an easy smile as he picked Becca up from where she was attacking his foot and dropped her next to Beth. “Elizabeth, Rebecca, time for sleep, no more tickles.”

“One more, no more!” they cried in unison.

Ja’han obliged, giving their bellies each a last tickle. Evan was astounded when they actually stopped giggling and cuddled together as they had done since they were babies and went straight to sleep. “They don’t do that for me.”

With a smug look, Ja’han wriggled back against his pillow. “They like me better.”

Evan whacked him with his pillow.

“Oh, are you in the mood for grown up pillow fighting now?” Ja’han asked.

Glancing down at their daughters, Evan shook his head. He slid out from under the blankets and walked around the bed. He caught Ja’han’s face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. “I will take the kissing and making up part though.” He pressed his forehead to Ja’han’s and kissed his nose. Ja’han stroked his cheek and kissed him back. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Ja’han whispered and closed his eyes and followed the girls into slumber.

Evan stood beside the bed for a little while, watching Ja’han sleep. Not for the first time he wondered what he had done to deserve him. Had it been luck or the hand of the goddess that had brought Ja’han into his life?

Wide awake now, Evan didn’t bother getting back in bed. He sat in the chair near the window and watched over his family. He might have also said a few prayers of gratitude in the time before the sun rose.

The End

Prompts harmed in the making of this fic:

Angelyuy requested: John/Evan, John mpreg, romance, giraffe, no death, not too much whump, not too much angst and oh yeah - KINK!

 

Kink Bingo (Postage Stamp)

Food, Sensory Deprivation, Bondage (other), Wild Card: Possession/Marking”

Fanbingo (four fills)

“Pregnancy” “Imprisonment” “Speech deprived” “Auctions and slave fic”