Time (John Sheppard/Keras, NC17)

[busaikko]

Time (4478 words)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Keras/John Sheppard
Additional Tags: Episode: s01e06 Childhood's End, Age Difference, Long-Distance Relationship, Sacrifice, Post-Canon
Summary: Keras discovers that Sheppard's people also demand a sacrifice.

the first extra year

Recovering from his wound was hard, but Keras was more exhausted and pained by the way his people were being torn apart. Every handful of days new visitors and teachers came from Atlantis, and he knew he was being judged as a weak leader for listening to them. But he had no idea where to even begin the restructuring of not just a village, but his whole society.

He'd asked Dr Liu how long her people lived. She'd looked at him seriously and said, "Seventy to eighty years." And then Dr Beckett told Keras and the rest of the assembled elders – what effects aging had on the human body. How hair color changed and women's bodies became incapable of bearing children, and physical and mental strength deteriorated.

Teyla Emmagan came after that and of the elders among her people, who due to their age were respected for their wisdom and for the knowledge and history they possessed. She asked permission of the elders to bring the woman who'd raised her. "She is three times older than Keras," Teyla said, almost apologetically. "And she has seen much tragedy and change. I believe she can help you."

Keras waited until the other elders had reluctantly agreed to this before adding his vote. Aries called their new way of life the dark path, because they were all stumbling forward into the unknown. Keras felt they needed all the guidance they could get, but he understood all too well the frustration of being treated like a child by these outsider Full-Growns.

He carried that annoyance with him because letting it loose would be impolite and a bad example to the young. But when Sheppard came by for a visit after Charin of Athos had been in his village for a double-handful of days, Keras knew he needed to take him far away from watching eyes.

"How's it going?" Sheppard said, his eyes crinkling at the corners with pleasure as he greeted Keras. The children flocked to him, and he dug in his pack, taking out a heavy-looking parcel and handing it over to greedy hands. "Just fruit," he told Keras as if in apology.

"Do you swim?" Keras asked. Sheppard's eyebrows went up, but he said yeah, so Keras nodded and continued, "Then follow me."

The trail down to the river was well-worn, but Keras led away from the path. The water was swifter along the upper river, but there was a pool worn into the stone where once there had been a waterfall. Few went there – it was too deep for little ones, and too far away and lonely for doing laundry. He didn't talk on the way and neither did Sheppard. Keras felt his wound as his body struggled with the exertion, but he knew the cool water would help.

There were a couple of benches on the shore, mended many times over but still sturdy. Keras brushed off leaves and dust with the side of his hand and then started pulling his clothes off and setting them in a pile. Sheppard had scanned the area as if he was hunting, but Keras noted that he very carefully did not let his gaze settle on any of Keras' exposed skin.

Keras did not think this was because he was unattracted.

"Your people swim in their clothes?" he asked, meaning it as a tease. That would be ridiculous, but... many things Sheppard's people did were.

"Actually," Sheppard said, but he didn't finish the sentence. He set his pack down and then removed his vest, jacket, belt and holstered weapon, boots and socks, t-shirt, and trousers. By that time Keras was long since naked, and was watching with amusement. Sheppard still had on his gray loincloth, but skinned it off quickly, giving Keras a defensive roll of his eyes. "Stop looking at me like I'm that old," he said, and walked over to the edge of the water. He dipped his toes in, winced, and then started wading in.

Keras gave a whoop and dashed for the pool, catching Sheppard with his arm as he passed and knocking him forward into the water. Both of them went down and under, the water whitening as arms and legs flailed. When Keras got his head above water he was laughing, and he pulled Sheppard up by his hair, wiping water from his face in apology.

"Fast entry is best," he managed to get out before Sheppard's dark expression sent him back into laughter.

"What the hell?" Sheppard said, shaking water from his hair. He took a step back. The hair on his chest stuck to his skin in curls.

Keras held a hand palm up. "My people say child's play is the purest joy."

Sheppard's eyebrows shut up. "Pure my ass." He gave Keras a searching look, and then dropped straight down, disappearing under the water.

Keras backed away, watching the surface for tell-tale air bubbles, but was unsurprised when his ankles were suddenly grabbed and yanked out from under him. He let himself drop, twisting, trying to catch hold of Sheppard. He managed to capture one wrist, but Sheppard shot out of the water with such an ostentatious roar that Keras' grip went weak as he burst out laughing again.

"Be that way," Sheppard said, as if he were an elder chastising a child, breaking Keras' hold to flop onto his back, spreading his arms to float with his eyes shut as if he had no cares.

Keras stretched out on the water next to him, looking up at the sky through the branches overhead. "I became the oldest when Jega made the sacrifice a season ago. There has not been much opportunity for play or pleasure since."

Sheppard grunted. "I know how that is."

Keras studied his face in profile. Sheppard had some wrinkles, but aging hadn't deteriorated him too badly. "I offended Teyla Emmagan when I told her that those the Wraith kill cannot find Eternal Rest. Did I offend your people as well?"

"Under the circumstances, we understood what you meant." Sheppard twisted his face like a cloth being wrung out. "You had to do the sacrifice thing, which meant you had to believe. Plus you guys never met anyone with different beliefs before."

Keras rubbed his stomach. That seemed like an oversimplification. "And you have."

That made Sheppard laugh, but in a pained way. "Where I come from, different beliefs get millions of people killed. Like Aries... If what you believe is right and they believe is right, then someone's got to be wrong, right?" He paused, and then looked sideways over at Keras. "But if you want my two cents, how can it be fair that because of their bravery or bad luck, good people are denied some kind of eternal rest with the people they love? They're the ones that need it the most."

"Charin said much the same thing. And listening, I feel she is right. After all, if children die of illness, drown, or fall out of trees, we say they have returned to the peace of their mother. No one would be so cruel as to tell someone their baby would suffer after death." Keras tried not to sound exasperated. "But you people... you cannot treat us like we are simply children with deficient educations. It's too easy to hear the condescension and not the message."

Sheppard tucked his knees up and used his arms to propel his body upright, bobbing as he tested to see if his feet could touch bottom, then standing. "Do I do that?"

"Yes," Keras said frankly. "But I enjoy talking to you. You try to build bridges between us, instead of trying to push us over a bridge already made." He gave Sheppard a grin. "I like getting to know you."

Sheppard caught his lower lip between his teeth, as if he had to hold back whatever he wanted to say. Keras dropped down to his own feet and took a step forward, reaching for Sheppard under the water. His fingers brushed against Sheppard's arm and he tugged, pulling him closer, close enough that he could lean in and nip Sheppard's mouth with his own teeth before kissing for real.

Sheppard's hands went to Keras' shoulders, almost as if he wanted to push him away, but he didn't. Sheppard kissed back, an odd mixture of desire and reluctance that made him seem shy, for all that he was full-grown.

"Do you want – ?" Keras asked, holding himself back, as was proper, no matter that his dick was hardening despite the cold of the water.

Sheppard stared at him for an uncomfortable moment before saying, "Yeah," as if the admission shamed him. "I want a lot of things I shouldn't have. Like beautiful young men."

Keras gave him another kiss, because they were doing nothing shameful. He had not had sex for the half-year leading up to the sacrifice, because he'd needed to purify his thoughts and intentions. If he'd touched Sheppard's dick then, he would have entered the sacrifice with a divided heart and betrayed his people. But now – he touched, he touched Sheppard everywhere, because he could and they were both alive, and they both wanted. He wanted to be beautiful, for Sheppard.

A flat sunning rock lay between the pool and the more swiftly-flowing part of the river, and Keras dragged Sheppard there in between kisses and learning the shape of the man under his hands. Sheppard gave him a boost up, because Keras was still weak from his injury, and then joined him on the warm, water-smoothed stone. Keras lay back, and Sheppard stretched over him. The position was strange and familiar and somehow fitting, and he found himself on the verge of laughter again.

He caught the back of Sheppard's neck and pulled him down, kissing him again as he shifted his hips so they fit together, snug and warm in the heat between their bodies. Sheppard's breath caught and he thrust down hard; Keras returned the thrust, setting up a rhythm, and pressed his tongue into Sheppard's mouth. He thought how he wanted Sheppard to suck his dick, how he'd be willing to do the same, and how it didn't matter who fucked whom because they were both full-grown and there were no rules that governed this.

Sheppard nudged Keras' hips wider, settling his weight on one hand, and reached down between them. His fingers curled around both their dicks, the pressure a little too hard and desperate, the heat too intimate. Keras felt the wall of pleasure rising in him fast, the muscles of his stomach tightening as his shoulders curled up, his coordination gone, panting open-mouthed against Sheppard's neck, yearning to be given release.

"Come on," Sheppard said roughly, like a bystander cheering on a runner. "Give it up." Keras felt the words catch hold, his heels pressing hard against stone, strength entering his hands where they pulled Sheppard down to him and his hips as they drove his dick into Sheppard's grip. He cried out, and Sheppard said something else, but Keras lost the words in the pleasure that filled him, shook him, cleaned his spirit like a spring rain.

He was dimly aware of Sheppard rolling off to the side, and Keras turned to follow his body's warmth. Sheppard's eyes were closed, again, as his hand worked frantically over his dick. Keras' seed was slick between his fingers, and Keras leaned in to kiss Sheppard, even though he was too close to kiss back.

"I have never known anyone like you," Keras said, breathing the words across Sheppard's skin, and Sheppard came. Keras turned his head to watch as Sheppard's stomach was striped, as he emptied himself.

When Sheppard finally opened his eyes again, his expression was wary and shuttered. Keras didn't want to think about what words they would say when they put back on their clothes and responsibilities. He pulled Sheppard back into the water, and this time they did wash, and then they climbed back to the shore.

Pulling on his trousers quickly, even though the fabric stuck to damp skin, Sheppard said, "I could lose my job." The words were abrupt and a bit cold, and he shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I like my job, because it means.... my friends, my home. Doing the right thing, sometimes. You," he added, and reached over to rub his palm over Keras' cheek, like he needed to remember the shape of him. "There are rules, and this is definitely breaking them."

Keras touched John in return, trailing his hand up his back, the bones of his spine, fanning his fingers out to cover the sweep of hard muscle. "So you have made a sacrifice, too," he suggested. He wasn't the first of his people to think so; even Charin commented on how only full-growns lived on Atlantis, no children or pregnant women.

"I'm... in charge," Sheppard said, choosing his words. "And it's hard enough, I can't be thinking about losing the respect of the people under me any more than I have, or about how if we get in contact with Earth I'd be sent home."

He didn't say in disgrace, but Keras understood. As a boy he'd been wiry and strong, so he was often sent to pick fruit. The temptation to eat his fill of sweet warm fruit had always been strong, and sometimes he did sneak a piece or two, but he'd imagined returning to the village with a full stomach and a light basket, the shame he'd feel when others did without and the fear of having his gluttony exposed.

Upholding the sacrifice of his people was an honorable thing to do. Keras respected that, but he also had regret.

"One thing I have now, thanks to you, is time," he said. "I won't tell anyone about today." Even though they were still touching he felt a bit hollow inside, like he'd done something wrong.

Sheppard made a small scoffing noise, but his mouth curved in a smile. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Well." Keras took him by the shoulders and shook him, just a little, to make him listen. "I like that about you." He leaned in and put a kiss on Sheppard's mouth. "Come back when your hair's silver, and the days when you have to abide by the sacrifice are ended. I will do my best to still be beautiful then."

He meant the last as a joke, but Sheppard held Keras close and kissed him hungrily, and when he let him go he said, "Okay," and put his fingers on Keras' lip where his mouth had just been. "Okay."

the seventh extra year

Every year after that, two official delegations from Atlantis came to negotiate trade deals and offer assistance, once in the autumn and once in the spring. All the villages were visited, but Keras' had the honor of being first each time.

Still... "They think of us as children," Pelius said scornfully, adjusting her headpiece. The delegation had just come through the well, and she was waiting with the rest of the welcoming party at the landing sight. Her griping had started as soon as they'd begun the walk out from the village, and Keras had heard many, many iterations of the same complaints. "Crying for our mothers."

Keras had been a rarity among his people, a third child, conceived on the eve of his father's sacrifice only two years before his mother also paid for peace with her life. His elder sister had been eight, and she had raised him well, but one of the full-growns' insidious ideas was that children should have parents until they become parents themselves.

Pelius' daughter was expecting her first child, and Keras was sure that part of her prickliness was worry. That was why he'd asked the Atlanteans to come earlier than the usual solstice date: so that their doctors could check his people for illness and advise the midwife. Keras was always bargaining to get more training for the healers of his people. The old doctor, Carson, had told him that his education had taken over twenty years, and he was still learning. Keras had trouble imagining that.

"I need to go talk to John," Keras said, not wanting to get into another argument that circled without resolution. He gestured towards the puddlejumper, where it had settled safely on the ground, away from the interference of the defensive shield. When the back opened, the group he'd chosen went to collect the bundles of supplies, animated voices filling the clearing as they greeted Carson, Radek, Jennifer, and the uniformed soldiers. "To thank him for helping us."

Pelius wrinkled her nose in scorn. "After all these extra years, you still are fascinated."

Keras had nothing to say to that; she wouldn't believe a denial, especially one that was half-hearted. Keras was drawn to the full-growns and their mysteries, even moreso now that he had passed thirty. He found comfort in knowing how they spent all their years of life. So he shrugged in reply, and walked away. Pelius would take the matter up with him again, he was certain, but her duty now was to escort the delegation back to the village and show them hospitality. Hopefully her mind would be eased and her temper under better control after she had heard from the doctors.

John had finished handing off supplies and was sitting on a bench at the back of the jumper, working on a hand-held device, but when he saw Keras coming he folded it up, sliding it into his pocket as he stood.

"Hello," Keras said, smiled, and belatedly realized that he had no agenda. He just wanted to be with John. "We appreciate your help."

John raised an eyebrow. "Not a hardship." He shifted on his feet; it had been far too long since he'd visited, and Keras suspected John feared that he'd arrive one day to find himself unwelcome. The full-growns had strange ideas.

Athos was an even closer trade partner than Atlantis; even after Charin's death, her people shared their knowledge. They had trained teachers in reading, hygiene, and mathematics, and now there was a school in each village. Talented youths went offworld for apprenticeships in weaving, metalwork, medicine. Keras had had to work hard to master new skills himself, so as not to appear stupid to his own children.

He had practiced by sending written messages back with any visitors. He was an infrequent correspondent with Rodney – whose replies were invariably complex, brilliant, and thoughtless – and Teyla, who preferred to visit and discuss his messages in person, over cups of tea. He wrote letters of thanks to Radek, who was a beloved uncle to many of the children. And of course he wrote to John, who wrote back promptly and told Keras things that made him understand more about the worlds and peoples beyond this planet.

He learned about Ford's disappearance and betrayal, and about the Wraith. He found out only after the fact when John had been injured or in danger, but he was honored that John could tell him plainly about his fears and troubles. He learned that Sheppard was John's clan-name, and that his friends were permitted to know and use his personal name.

One year ago, Atlantis and all her people disappeared. Keras went offworld when he heard, to visit the Athosian people. He brought dried herbs for tea, and spoke with Teyla's partner while playing handgames with her son sitting on his knees. Kanaan said the Wraith had attacked the Atlanteans' home world. He said he did not know if anyone survived.

Keras bowed his head. "Long ago," he said, feeling the precious weight of each extra year, "I told Teyla my people believe there is no Eternal Rest for those who the Wraith killed. With her patience and compassion, she showed us we were mistaken." He touched Torren's hair, light and curling. "My people... we are praying for their return."

"I'm sure Teyla knows that, wherever she is." Kanaan gave him a solemn nod, and poured more tea.

Kanaan and Torren became frequent visitors to the village after that; the Athosians had few children who had survived the Wraith, and Keras suspected Kanaan found comfort in watching Torren learning to run and play with his age-mates. When Atlantis returned, limping and battle-scarred but without casualties, Kanaan had sent a messenger through the well to tell Keras. The first delegation from Atlantis had come a double handful of days later. While Keras had been disappointed that John had been too busy to come, there had been a great celebration, with games and music and chocolate bars. Teyla and Kanaan had danced, and Keras carried Torren on his hip.

Radek had been there and told Keras the story of how Atlantis had traveled to Earth and saved the planet from the Wraith. Greedy clans had tried to steal the city and its power, but finally Mr Woolsey had won an important victory. "And so we returned," Radek concluded, edging away from the children who'd gathered close to hear the story. "Though many things have changed. New personnel, new rules. Rodney, you know, married to Dr Keller, and is even more insufferable."

Keras's breath had caught. "Your people are no longer forbidden from relationships?"

"The US military," Radek said absently, patting his pockets down and coming up with a package of brightly-colored sweets. "Yes, they have finally joined the modern era. I am sure there has been much rejoicing between the sheets." He began passing the candy out, eyes widening in alarm as the circle around him closed in. "Ah – before your young devour me, Sheppard asked me to give you this." He pulled a flat parcel from the inside of his jacket and passed it high over the children's heads.

Keras was pleased to have the letter and the enclosed chocolate bar, which he shared with Torren. Sorry I missed your birthday, John wrote. Hope to see you soon.

And now John was here, and Keras had felt his absence so keenly. He wanted, but felt clumsy.

"Your sacrifice is over," he said carefully. "But I don't know what that means. To you. For us."

John's eyes widened in surprise. "Someone told you?" he asked, sounding almost disappointed. "That was my big news."

Something inside Keras unknotted, and he took a breath and released his doubts. "I heard." He gave John a smile. "And I know how it feels to be released from sacrifice. You'd think there'd be relief, but there's regret as well, and fear, and uncertainty." John'd broken his vows with Keras four times since that first time and always apologized afterward, even though Keras thought his duty should have been to help John show restraint. He would have, he admitted to himself with some guilt, if only he hadn't found the Atlanteans' sacrifice so incomprehensible.

John ran his hands down his sides. "Yeah." He frowned down at the jumper floor. Keras kept his silence. Much of wisdom, he'd always been told, lay in knowing when to keep quiet. Finally, John looked up and gave him a wry smile. "But I've had weeks to think. The first thing I thought when I heard the news was, hey, I could stay the night sometimes. You could come to Atlantis and hang out. If anything happened to me – "

"I thought it had," Keras said, trying to keep the words from stinging. He wasn't making an accusation; he knew, had known from their first meeting, that John was more familiar with violence than peace. "When you were gone."

"I want to see what we can do, now that nobody's sacrificing anything," John said, sounding angry, but his mouth pinched as if he was in pain. "At least try. Start with baby steps, and then grow old with you."

"You know you're the same age my father would have been," Keras had to point out. John looked horrified, and Keras shrugged. "You're fourteen years older than me."

John lowered his chin to give Keras a dark look. "How about you never mention that again, and just say, sure, John, that sounds doable. Or not."

"Sure, John," Keras repeated obediently, so John wouldn't know if he was serious or not. He never knew which one of them was supposed to take the role of elder and indulge the other in their immaturity. John was older and one of the leaders of Atlantis, but Keras was the eldest of his people, head of the council, and father of two. His own first-born was fifteen, and he wondered what she'd think when he introduced her to John. "You should come here and kiss me now, because we are alone and I thought you were dead. We won't take pleasure here, because we are both Full-Grown and have restraint, but come to my bed tonight and we'll shake all the leaves from the tree. As my people say." He took a breath. "Tomorrow, after we wake together, you can tell me what the next step is."

John's breath went out hard, as if he'd been hit, but then he reached out, taking a step forward at the same time as Keras did, catching his shoulder and leaning in. He held distance between them even as he tilted his head into the kiss, but Keras didn't want that. He wrapped his arms around John and shifted forward, so his hip bumped John's and they were chest to chest, and he could feel the way John was shaking even as he kissed like a drowning man desperate for air. Keras slid one hand down, cupping the curve of John's ass, and John groaned, hips jerking forward. He was as hard as Keras was, and they were free, now, able to enjoy both time and pleasure.

"Tonight," John said, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against Keras' Athosian-style. "I want – but you're right. Work first."

Keras let go reluctantly. John took a deep breath and then led the way out of the puddlejumper, adjusting his clothes. Even after being adjusted, his dick showed plainly against the material of his trousers.

"Good thing it's a long walk," John said, making a face as he slipped his sunglasses on. He clicked a small device at the jumper and the back lowered until it shut with a hum. He glanced at Keras. "You look..." He waved a hand.

"Beautiful?" Keras suggested, because he wasn't ever going to let John live that down. He started walking, and John matched his stride easily, as if they knew each other that well. Maybe they did.

"That wasn't the word I was thinking of," John said dryly, and caught Keras' hand, lacing their fingers together. "But it'll do."

Comments

[esteefee]

(tag added)

it's so painful and yet believable that Keras would think of his life as extra years. I liked the tension b/w his people and the Lanteans, who treat them with such condescension, and the comparison of their sacrifices. and oh, that they should both finally have something of their own and not just in service of their people.

[busaikko]

Thank you! Keras is going to be the Eldest of his people for the rest of his life... it must be an odd feeling. (I would not want to be a leader of a group of angry teens with bows and arrows who blame outdated religion for the deaths of their beloved parents and friends, not at all.) I think we saw in canon that John and Keras respected each other and were very attracted to each other *adjusts slash goggles* and basically, this ship wrote itself *g*

[selenic76.livejournal.com]

This was wonderful, I really loved how you let us see into Keras' mind, and learn more about him and his people, and how they dealt with the idea of extra years and how they we're helped in that by so many people. You did well by not making things too easily acceptable, making the story honest and realistic instead.

And I love how John and Keras come together, how they are together, and that after the sacrifice is finally over, they can finally be together. Lovely, thoughtful, passionate, emotional, you have written a great story for this pairing. Thank you for writing and sharing.

[busaikko]

Thank you for reading! Rewatching Childhood's End, besides the nonstop flirting between John and Keras, there were so many worldbuilding questions in trying to imagine a society where everyone died at 25: how culture would be transmitted, how the idea of the sacrifice was woven into the culture and so on. Having the one great pillar of their faith disproved must have been hard to live with... One thing that came out while writing was how much John and Keras had in common (both leaders of societies in horrible circumstances, both setting their personal lives aside) and how much I wanted them to be happy.

[scififreak.livejournal.com]

I loved this! Childhood's End was for sure one of the actually interesting world building/alternate society concepts the show gave us. It was just a bonus that it came with such a lovely ship. You did such a good job with Kera's pov. Esp his struggle to understand John and come to terms with their society post-first contact. The only thing that could make this better for me would be an outside observation of their (budding?)relationship--and more sex. Sequel? ;)