Disclaimer: The beautiful genius of Farscape belongs to its wonderful creator, Rockne S. O'Bannon, and all the lovely people involved with it such as Nine Networks, Jim Henson Productions, Animal Logic, etc. If I was making money from writing this stuff, do you honestly think I would still be writing only fanfic? ;)
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The faint sound of fists pounding against a training dummy echoed down the tier as Crichton approached, the solid thud of her fists banging against the padding growing in intensity with every step he took. He slowed his pace, hushing his footsteps as he strided up to the door of the cargo bay – Aeryn's makeshift gym.
Leaning against the entrance, he watched her tightly clenched fists continue to smash into the red padding, not even a kick breaking the smooth and fierce routine. Her beautiful features etched with an unspoken rage – at what, he didn't know. Her soft, black leather top moving with her, arm muscles taught and defined to perfection, hair pulled back in a wild ponytail, sweat sticking the ebony strands to her jaw and neck.
Slowly, Aeryn's fists slowed down to a stop, her fingers gripping the top edge of the wrapped canister tightly, turning her bare knuckles white. Resting her forehead on the smooth leather surface, she attempted to regain control over her normally smooth and measured breathing.
A soft sob catching in her throat, tears brushing their way past her tightly closed eyelids. Aeryn fought for control over her own betraying emotions, so far past the breaking point already, it was nearly impossible. The soft sob turned into a gasp for breath as her tears intensified – she could no longer deal with it all. She was stuck in a moment she couldn't get out of.
At first Crichton didn't know whether to go to her and comfort her, or let her deal with this battle on her own – his mind shouting the latter, while his heart cried out to help her, to be there for her. Finally his heart won – Aeryn was strong, but he had learned all to well that everyone was not that strong… that they could deal with everything themselves… everyone needed someone, and they needed each other.
Gently stepping towards her shaking form leaning onto the punching bag for support, Crichton touched her shoulder gently, treating her like the wounded animal she was at the moment. Aeryn quickly stopped crying, wiping the tears away from her Alaskan ocean blue eyes before looking up at him, the rage from her face now gone, replaced with a painful kind of hurt.
She turned away as the look in his eyes told her that he had been there for a while, no words needing to be said between either of them. Crichton pulled her tightly to him as she tried to pull away… hugging her gently from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder… silently telling her that he was there for her, through thick and thin, no matter what… just there for comfort, not even needing to know what was wrong.
Curling into herself, Aeryn started to cry again, the emotional dam spilling over from the past several cycles. Sinking to the ground gently, Crichton held tight to her, rocking her back and forth in his arms as she fought her own inner battles.
She was stuck in a moment she couldn't get out of.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~*~
The faint sound of fists pounding against a training dummy echoed down the tier as Crichton approached, the solid thud of her fists banging against the padding growing in intensity with every step he took. He slowed his pace, hushing his footsteps as he strided up to the door of the cargo bay – Aeryn's makeshift gym.
Leaning against the entrance, he watched her tightly clenched fists continue to smash into the red padding, not even a kick breaking the smooth and fierce routine. Her beautiful features etched with an unspoken rage – at what, he didn't know. Her soft, black leather top moving with her, arm muscles taught and defined to perfection, hair pulled back in a wild ponytail, sweat sticking the ebony strands to her jaw and neck.
Slowly, Aeryn's fists slowed down to a stop, her fingers gripping the top edge of the wrapped canister tightly, turning her bare knuckles white. Resting her forehead on the smooth leather surface, she attempted to regain control over her normally smooth and measured breathing.
A soft sob catching in her throat, tears brushing their way past her tightly closed eyelids. Aeryn fought for control over her own betraying emotions, so far past the breaking point already, it was nearly impossible. The soft sob turned into a gasp for breath as her tears intensified – she could no longer deal with it all. She was stuck in a moment she couldn't get out of.
At first Crichton didn't know whether to go to her and comfort her, or let her deal with this battle on her own – his mind shouting the latter, while his heart cried out to help her, to be there for her. Finally his heart won – Aeryn was strong, but he had learned all to well that everyone was not that strong… that they could deal with everything themselves… everyone needed someone, and they needed each other.
Gently stepping towards her shaking form leaning onto the punching bag for support, Crichton touched her shoulder gently, treating her like the wounded animal she was at the moment. Aeryn quickly stopped crying, wiping the tears away from her Alaskan ocean blue eyes before looking up at him, the rage from her face now gone, replaced with a painful kind of hurt.
She turned away as the look in his eyes told her that he had been there for a while, no words needing to be said between either of them. Crichton pulled her tightly to him as she tried to pull away… hugging her gently from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder… silently telling her that he was there for her, through thick and thin, no matter what… just there for comfort, not even needing to know what was wrong.
Curling into herself, Aeryn started to cry again, the emotional dam spilling over from the past several cycles. Sinking to the ground gently, Crichton held tight to her, rocking her back and forth in his arms as she fought her own inner battles.
She was stuck in a moment she couldn't get out of.
Fin
