10/2000 –
Cat and Mouse
By S. Hempel (aka Lyme BloodTalon)
~~The Obligatory pre-reading notes that no one really bothers to read~~
Erg. My first Farscape fan fiction. Note, I've written fanfic before, which will be available if I ever get off my butt and update that section of my website (it's located at http://www.crosswinds.net/~lyme. It'll be under the section entitled 'Literature' if it's up.)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Farscape or any of the characters in the show, so please don't hit me for using them for a few minutes. I promise I'll give them back! However, I did write this story, and if you try to say that you wrote it, I'll hunt you down and beat you with a large stick.
TIMELINE: Before 'A Bug's Life', but after 'Rhapsody in Blue'.
RATING: Uh, PG-13, to be on the safe side.
SUMMARY: A J&A shipper story. John and Aeryn have a couple of… confrontations.
ARCHIVING: If you want to archive this frelling story, send me an e-mail and ask. Most likely, you'll get a yes, but ask anyway (I wanna keep track of who has it and whatnot).
FEEDBACK: Why of course. If you like the story, send e-mails to lymebt@airmail.net. If you didn't, send 'em over to BillGates@microsoft.com. *Cackle*
Er. On with the story!
~~~
CAT AND MOUSE: S. Hempel: 10/2000
~
John Crichton woke early, alone in the near pitch-black of his quarters. He'd been dreaming again. He had dreamed the same dream nearly every night for the past few solar days – dreaming, to be exact, about Aeryn Sun.
About how much he wanted to be with her. And, in his dreams and fantasies, about how much she wanted to be with him. Unfortunately for him, he still didn't know how she felt. 'Sure,' he thought. 'We've kissed a couple times. We've even done a little more than kiss. But she always… pulls away. Right when things are heating up, she gets colder than Mr. Freeze.'
John stood up, stretched, and made his way to the head, lost in his glum thoughts. He had been in a conundrum on what to do about Aeryn, ever since that whole incident when they had been caught in the flax. They'd been getting closer. He knew that for sure. Hell, the whole crew had been getting closer. Even Chiana was beginning to trust the other members of the crew. But, in the past few weekans, Aeryn had begun to drift away again.
As Crichton mulled over these thoughts, he showered and dressed. He wasn't due for duty on Command for arns yet, but his mind was far too full to get back to sleep. He had an idea instead.
~
Crichton found Zhaan alone in the galley, eating a handful of food cubes.
"Good morning, John," she greeted him. "Did you sleep well?"
"Mornin', Zhaan. And the answer is no, which, by the way, is what I've been looking to talk to you for."
Zhaan cocked her head, and regarded Crichton. "What is it that bothers you?"
"Do you have something… some herb or drink or whatever that I could take to help me sleep better? For the past few solar days, I…" Crichton hesitated, seeking a way to be discreet about his dreams of Aeryn. "I've been having some dreams that have been keeping me up."
"Nightmares, John?"
"Not exactly," he paused, then shook his head and laughed. "Not exactly nightmares. Yet, at least."
Zhaan sat at the table, across from John. She put a warm, comforting hand over his, and looked him in the eye. "Would you like to tell me about it?"
John smiled at Zhaan. He squeezed her hand for a second. She was always so understanding, ready to help anyone. John loved that about her so much; it reminded him of his mother. "Sorry, Zhaan, not the particulars. But, as you can probably guess, it involves a certain Sebacean."
Zhaan nodded slowly. She knew he and Aeryn had been getting close, and then had suddenly begun to fight far more than usual. Aeryn would never admit to any difficulties, but she knew John would. "I think I may have something to help you sleep well, John."
She stood, and led him to what passed as the medical bay of Moya. Along the way, they passed several DRDs, busily going about their maintenance rounds. "Zhaan," Crichton asked, "is it just my imagination, or are there more DRDs around than usual?"
"I don't believe so, John."
Crichton shrugged as they entered the infirmary. Zhaan moved straight across the room to a cabinet well stocked with a small selection of the various roots and herbs that made up Zhaan's collection. As she perused the cabinet, murmuring to herself, John looked at the contents of a nearby table – touching, sniffing, prodding.
After a moment, she turned and glided over to John, handing him a small flask. "Here, John. Take this before retiring tonight, and it should ease your dreams."
"Ooh, Zhaan, what's this?" He offered a beaker containing a pleasantly scented oil to her.
"That's Yrantic oil. It's an extract from a plant. It's got many uses, but it is most commonly used to scent clothing or to make a balm that works well for burns. Unfortunately, the balm works on few species."
John examined the beaker carefully. "Could it be used to scent other things?"
"Well, that depends on these other things," Zhaan said. "What did you have in mind?"
"Could it be used for someone's hair?" John grinned mischievously.
~
Aeryn turned on the showerhead and quickly disrobed. Aeryn waited for the water to become lukewarm, occasionally testing it with her hand. Even after nearly a cycle aboard Moya, she was still somewhat unused to the level of privacy she had. All her life, she'd lived in a dormitory with several other Peacekeepers. Not a microt of free time was ever left in a Peacekeeper's schedule; the lack thereof helped to squash any individualism. Everything had always been done with a group of comrades.
She stepped into the spray, quickly wetting her hair and going about the process of bathing. She closed her eyes, allowing her defenses down to enjoy the feel of the water washing away her aches. She had not slept well recently; an assortment of troubles had disrupted her normally dreamless sleep. For one, there was Crichton.
Crichton. That human. That infuriating creature, with his strange human sayings and bizarre sense of humor. And with his unpredictable behavior… 'Even though,' Aeryn admitted to herself, 'it has saved us more than once.' And, she had to admit, his eyes. Something about Crichton's eyes thrilled and scared Aeryn at the same time. They were so deeply intense. She didn't feel safe when he looked at her hard. She felt like he could see right through to her thoughts. And yet, there was something comforting about his gaze. Something in it, the something that thrilled her, she couldn't define. Something that was Human.
~
Crichton entered Aeryn's quarters quietly, stepping around the sheets on the floor. 'Not like her to be messy,' he thought. 'Maybe she's in a bad mood. Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all…'
Then he caught the sound of the shower. Perfect. Absolutely perfect timing. His grin surfaced again, as he thumbed the small bottle of liquid soap in his hand. He bent quickly, removing his boots, socks, and, with a little reluctance, his gun. He raised an eyebrow. After all, with what he was about to attempt, Aeryn might try to kill him.
He crept quietly towards Aeryn's bathroom, eyes flickering. 'At least she'd left the light out in her main quarters,' he thought. 'It makes it that much easier for me to sneak up.'
He stepped into the small bathroom. The air was humid, but nowhere near steamy. Aeryn's intolerance of heat would probably never permit that. Clutching the bottle tighter, he thought to himself, 'Well, here goes nothing…'
And he stepped into the water.
~
Aeryn's eyes opened in surprise as she heard a movement behind her in the shower. She gasped – had she been so lost in thought that she'd let an enemy sneak up behind her, while she was completely vulnerable and unarmed? Then he spoke.
"Aeryn."
"Crichton, what the *frell* are you doing in my shower?" She demanded angrily.
Instinctively, she covered herself, moving closer to the wall of the shower. Aeryn cursed herself for her strange reaction. She'd been raised in a regiment practically since birth – modesty had never been an issue. She'd eaten, trained, and bathed in a group for as long as she could remember, but now, when nude in front of Crichton, she felt horribly nervous.
"Relax, Aeryn. I'm dressed."
Aeryn stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Indeed he was. He was in a black shirt and trousers, barefoot. And he didn't even seem to mind that he was getting wet. "What the *frell* are you doing in my shower?" She repeated.
"Getting wet," came his response. His voice was obviously tinged with amusement. Another glance over her shoulder confirmed it – a small, barely concealed grin attempted to steal across his lips, and though he controlled it, the mirth was evident in his eyes. And then he stepped closer. They were nearly touching, and she could feel the warmth of his body.
'She hasn't told me to leave,' Crichton realized.
'I haven't told him to leave,' Aeryn thought. And just as she opened her mouth, she hesitated.
Crichton seized the opportunity and carefully, gingerly took her long black hair in his hands. When she didn't whirl on him, ready to incapacitate him with a Pantak jab, he popped the cork out of the bottle, and poured the newly scented soap into his palm.
As Crichton carefully took her hair, her mouth snapped shut abruptly. What the hezmana was he doing? And then a smell, an enticing aroma, wafted through the air. She felt his hands shifting through her hair, and then on her skull. The scent grew stronger. She asked, "What is that scent?"
"Yrantic oil. Something from Zhaan's little collection."
"And what the frell are you doing?"
"Washing your hair." He massaged the scented soap into her hair, gently caressing her hair. 'I can't believe she hasn't tried to kill me yet,' he thought incredulously. 'Must be that old southern charm.'
"You will do no such thing," she protested, but made no move to stop him.
As he moved his fingers along the curves of her head, they brushed along Aeryn's neck, sending a chill through her body. Her tensed muscles slowly started to relax, and her eyes began to flutter closed with the pleasing sensations. Aeryn had never had anyone wash her hair – she was totally unprepared for this new, strange, and probably all too Human experience.
And then, Crichton's fingers were gone from her hair, moving down her neck to her shoulders, still gently rubbing and massaging. They rested on her shoulder blades, and she felt another shiver. His breath was warm, and she realized that he was leaning closer before. He shifted his weight, and he was leaning against her, and she was surprised at how pleasant it felt.
Crichton was so close to Aeryn now, he could almost hear her heart beat. He slipped his arms down, slowly, encircling Aeryn in his grasp. He was only dimly aware of the roar of the water; intoxicated by the scent of the oil and the proximity to the creature he had been tempted by for a nearly a cycle.
His shirt felt rough against her skin – the thought, 'He calls that cotton' flashed through her mind. His cheek brushed against her ear. His voice, normally so calm and cool headed, was low, nearly a growl. "There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
And then, suddenly, he was gone. His weight lifted, and the heat of his body evaporated. Aeryn's eyes opened, slightly confused.
The room was empty.
Heedless of the soap still in her hair and the fact that she was still nude, she stepped from the stall, and into her quarters. No Crichton.
In the tumult that raged within her, a familiar emotion arose. Anger. She could handle that.
'That frelling yotz!' a voice shrieked. 'And you're a frelling yotz as well, Aeryn, for letting him get away with that!' She frowned, then stepped back into the bathroom and the shower. She quickly rinsed the soap from her hair and shut the shower off.
'How dare he, using *scent* on my hair!'
~
"Crichton. In my quarters. *Now*."
'Dren.'
He'd been avoiding her all day. After leaving her quarters, he'd returned to his, and changed into another set of clothing. Crichton felt immensely lucky not to have run into anyone in the hallway as he hurried between the quarters, but he was especially thankful not to have encountered Chiana or Rygel. They would be most definitely interested to know what he was doing creeping around Moya in the early arns of the day dripping wet.
He'd then busied himself around Moya, carefully planning to avoid anywhere Aeryn might be. He visited Pilot, and then helped D'Argo to perform a few minor repairs that the DRDs couldn't handle. Later, he'd settled a fight between Chiana and Rygel over the Hynerian's habit of 'procuring' items, specifically, a bracelet of Chiana's.
And then the day grew old, and he was on Command again. He watched the blank view screen half-heartedly, doodling on some scrap paper he had managed to scrounge up. When he looked down, he noticed that nearly all the drawings resembled Aeryn.
And then the call over the comm.
D'Argo glanced at him, amused by his dismayed, yet hopeful expression. "John? Another fight with Aeryn?" The Luxan quirked a brow at him.
Crichton stood and stretched. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Go on. I'll watch Command."
~
Aeryn stood beside her bed, waiting. She knew he'd come; he wouldn't be able to stay away. The feelings raged against each other in her, nearly every voice conflicting.
He'd avoided her all day. She'd done the same.
Moya was a large ship; there was always work to be done on her. DRD
maintenance, for one. A few of the DRDs had been experiencing minor
malfunctions, and needed to be checked. Later, she stopped by Pilot. Aeryn had
so desperately wanted to confide in him, but she stopped short. There were some
things that she couldn't even tell Pilot.
So she'd waited until the solar day was nearly at an end. She knew Crichton was on the Command Deck, and called his comm.
"Crichton. In my quarters. *Now*."
He didn't answer her. He didn't need to. Aeryn knew he would come. She wondered if all Humans were as curious as he.
~
Crichton sauntered down the hallway, followed by two DRDs. "Pilot," he called. "Why is there a pair of DRDs following me?"
"I… do not know, Commander Crichton. I shall stop them if you wish."
"Thank you, Pilot. Also, could you do me a favor?"
"Anything, Commander," Pilot replied.
"Right. Could you block all calls to my comm for the next few arns? Don't let anyone call for me unless we're under attack."
"Certainly."
Crichton paused outside Aeryn's door, idly wondering if she had told Pilot about what had occurred earlier. He knew Aeryn and Pilot were extremely close, and that she often told Pilot things that she wouldn't dare confess to others. The door opened, and he knocked on the frame. "Knock, knock, anybody home?"
"Come in." The room was dim. He could discern Aeryn, standing beside her bed. He noted that it had been made at some point, straight as a pin. 'More Peacekeeper habits,' he reflected.
"You wanted to see me, Aeryn?" he asked. He stopped just inside the door, which whispered shut behind him.
"Yes. Come here." Her voice was flat, hard to read. Crichton didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing he was walking into.
He slowly stepped forward. Aeryn and Crichton stood less then an arm's length apart. And then she reached back and belted him across the face. She felt immediately guilty, even though she knew she'd pulled her punch. She'd held back a lot of force.
Crichton let out a grunt that was partly pain, but mostly surprise. It hurt, but he knew it would hurt far worse later, when the shock wore off. He sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. "Okay, I deserved that," he conceded. His hand went to his face, covering the eye, which was quickly watering and swelling.
"What the frell were you doing this morning? What the *frell* were you doing in my shower?"
"Well, it didn't seem to bother you that much at the time…" he muttered.
Aeryn was tempted to slug him again. "Is this how you frelling Humans treat your women?"
"No, most of the time flowers and a nice romantic dinner work just fine," he cracked.
Aeryn hit him again, this time on the shoulder.
"Ow! You know, you can keep on hitting me all you want, Aeryn, but that isn't going to change the way I feel about you. And it won't change the way I believe you feel about me, too," he said quietly. His voice was so low Aeryn almost didn't hear him.
Aeryn nearly slugged him again, the anger still strong within her. But his words gave her pause. "What the hezmana are you going on about now, Crichton? What feelings?"
Crichton grabbed her upraised arm, her fingers still curled into a fist, and pulled. She resisted at first, but then allowed him to pull her down to a sitting position beside him. 'You're not getting off that easily this time, Aeryn,' he thought. His eye stung. "You know exactly what I mean."
"Let me see your eye, you might need to see Zhaan," she said, with an annoyed note in her voice. Aeryn was desperately trying to change the subject, and it was painfully obvious.
Crichton lowered his hand, and Aeryn took his head in her hands, tilting it this way and that. All throughout, Crichton's gaze never left her eyes. As she desperately tried to evade his stare, she said, "Well, I didn't hit you as hard as I thought I did. I should've hit harder. You won't have anything other than a black eye for a few solar days–"
"Aeryn." He said her name, calmly, softly, forcing her to look into his eyes. She did so, guiltily. He could read the emotion in her own grey eyes, even though she was trying to be flippant.
Crichton held her stare for several moments. Then he spoke. "No matter *what* you do, it's not going to change how I feel about you." And then he leaned forward slowly, moving like a man with a wounded creature that didn't quite trust him.
Their lips met, slowly, hesitantly. Crichton stopped, looking at her. His dangerous blue gaze, intent and cutting, was directed straight at her. Aeryn felt a flurry of panic in her gut, and then his lips brushed hers again. She leaned closer, almost unintentionally, hoping to meet his touch again.
The voices rang out in her head, shouting at her. She shouldn't, couldn't, and would not do this. He was of another species. He was inferior. And then Crais's voice, muttering a phrase she had come to hate – irreversibly contaminated.
And then Crichton was kissing her harder, deeper, his hands moving up to take her face as her eyes closed, and she let herself go with him, returning his heated kisses. He trailed them down her neck, across her shoulders, his hands twining in her scented hair.
She leaned back, drawing him down with her. He came, slowly, following her. She opened her eyes to steal a glance at him, and then shut them again. She felt his palm against her face, and then it disappeared. Aeryn lay with her eyes closed, willing him to continue even though the Peacekeeper in her was yelling in horror.
Crichton shifted his weight on the bed, and then… nothing. Aeryn, slightly confused at why he had stopped, opened her eyes. Crichton was gone. Again. She sat up quickly, looking throughout her quarters.
"Crichton?" she called. He'd left again. She went to the door, looking out into the corridor, but he had already turned the corner and was well out of sight.
~
Crichton walked briskly down the corridor, heading for his quarters. His head was down, and he was lost deep in thoughts. He'd so wanted to stay, to continue what he'd started, but he was still unsure how Aeryn would act. He didn't want her to push him away again.
As he rounded the corner, a figure jumped from the shadows and attacked him. Surprised and off-guard, he stumbled and fell, straight on his back. His assailant sat on his chest, grinning triumphantly down at him. For a moment, his mind flashed to his first meeting of Aeryn.
"Chiana!" he gasped. "What the frell are you doing? You scared me half to death!"
Chiana laughed lightly and easily. "Gotcha. You better watch it, John. For all you know, I could've been Crais." She smirked at him, and stood up, offering him a hand.
"Ha, ha, very funny," he muttered. "You know, it's not polite to go tackling people in the middle of the hallway." He took her hand and hauled himself up.
"Ooh, what's that?" she asked, reaching up to touch his eye. He stopped her hand before she could touch him.
"It's nothing."
Chiana grinned knowingly. "Oh, I see. I take it your talk with Aeryn didn't go to well, did it?" She moved in closer, pressing herself close to him. "Mmm," she purred. "You know, I can help you take your mind off your troubles, John. All it takes is one word."
"Can it, Chiana," he said. "D'Argo's up on Command, why don't you go bother him?" he asked, heading down the corridor again.
"Maybe I will!" she shot back, and then she smirked again. 'Ahhh, to be in love with a Peacekeeper,' she thought. 'Well, as Crichton says, love hurts.'
~
Crichton returned to his quarters, holding the poultice Zhaan had prepared for him over his eye. The swelling had already receded some, leaving behind a nasty purpled bruise. Luckily, Zhaan had been able to give him something that would numb the pain as well as stop the swelling.
He put the poultice down for a moment, stripped to his underwear, and slid into bed. As he lay between the sheets, he grabbed the poultice again and pressed it gently to his eye. Microts later, he drifted off to sleep, completely forgetting the flask that had started all of the trouble in the first place.
~
Arns later, Aeryn slipped out of bed. The only sound was the hum that was Moya, busy living. She knew it was late. Her body had been trained for cycles to awake at the same time, every solar day. And it was well before that time.
She sat up, dressed only in a t-shirt and underwear. 'Crichton's underwear,' she realized guilty. She'd still been wearing them. He hadn't asked for him back, that one time he'd caught her wearing them. That had been weekans ago, when they'd encountered that colony of Delvians.
Aeryn stood, padding to the door of her quarters and out into the hallway. The lights were dimmed to fifty percent, so as not to disturb the sleeping occupants. She rubbed her eyes. Sleep had been a long time in coming, and it had been fleeting. Ever since… earlier.
For a moment, she stood indecisively outside the door of her quarters, then headed off to Pilot's chamber.
As she walked, she recalled an incident that had happened the weekan before.
~
They'd encountered a Peacekeeper Marauder near a commerce planet, and had been unable to starburst. Zhaan, D'Argo, Chiana, and Rygel had gone down to the planet to barter for some food, leaving Aeryn and Crichton alone to oversee Moya.
The Marauder had seen their ship, and requested to board. They claimed that their ship was damaged.
"Pilot, can you scan their ship?" Crichton asked. "Is it damaged in any way?"
A moment later, Pilot answered. "Moya says that she can detect no damage to the Marauder, Commander."
They called again, repeating the message. "Like frell you'll board," Crichton muttered.
At that moment, Aeryn came to Command Deck. "What is it?" she asked.
"Peacekeepers. They're playing a little game of cat and mouse with us."
"What's 'cat in mouth'?" she asked, slightly annoyed. Another strange Human saying. Whatever a cat was, she wasn't sure she'd want to know why someone would make a game of apparently eating it.
"Uh, never mind. Got any suggestions?"
"Yes. I can take my prowler out and blast the hezmana out of them," she said simply.
"Uh, Aeryn, that may not be such a good idea," Crichton said, turning to face her. But before he could say anything else, she'd already left Command and had headed down to the docking bay.
"Aeryn? Aeryn! Frell!" He tried his comm. "Aeryn, do not go out there. They're up to something and I don't trust –" before he could get another word out, he felt a mild shockwave ripple through Moya.
On the view screen, he could see what appeared to be an explosion, but, although he tried, could not find a ship. Any ship.
"Aeryn!" No response.
"Pilot, can you pick up Aeryn's prowler out there?" he called.
"Yes. She appears to have destroyed the Marauder and is heading back into the docking bay."
Just then, he heard her over the comm. "I told you I'd take care of it, Crichton."
Later that day, as they'd been eating in the galley, she'd paused, watching him eat. As it dawned on him that he was being watched, Crichton looked up into her eyes. "What?"
"What is this cat in mouth game you were referring to earlier, Crichton?"
"Huh?" he asked, confused.
"When the Marauder was attempting to board us, you said something about cat in mouth."
"Oh. Oh! It's cat and mouse, Aeryn," he said, being sure to enunciate the words carefully. "They're animals back on Earth. A cat is an animal about this big," he said, demonstrating with his hands. "And a mouse is about this big. Cats eat mice, along with other small animals. They're notorious for playing with their food before killing them, sort of torturing them."
"And you Earth people consider this to be a game?" she asked, looking at him in that way that always meant she couldn't believe how odd he was.
"No, it's just a figure of speech. It's not a game. It's just that… when someone's toying with another person, it's called playing 'cat and mouse'."
~
The last sentence echoed in her head. Cat and mouse. That was exactly what Crichton was doing now. He was toying with her, and she didn't like it. Furthermore, she wasn't sure what to do.
She arrived at Pilot's chamber shortly, walking in calmly. Pilot was awake; it seemed he never slept.
"Pilot," she said, quietly.
"Good evening, Officer Sun," he replied with a bob of his head.
"How is Moya?"
"She is well. How are you?"
"I'm fine," she lied. "Just a little tired."
"I hope you sleep well, Officer Sun," Pilot answered.
Aeryn nodded, turning to leave the room, "Goodnight, Pilot."
~
Back in the corridors again. More specifically, outside Crichton's quarters. 'What am I doing here?' Aeryn thought to herself grimly. 'This is dangerous. This is frelling insane.'
She opened the door, listening carefully as it whispered over the floor. The dim light spilled into the room, revealing Crichton, bare except for a pair of underwear. He was asleep, tangled in his sheets, his head turned away from the door.
Aeryn watched him as he slept for a while, leaning against the door. She pursed her lips, staring at him. He seemed innocent in his sleep, and very vulnerable. She felt safer here, where his startlingly clear eyes couldn't settle on her.
"Aeryn," he said, suddenly, startling her. "Come in and shut the door. You're letting the heat out." His eyes remained closed, and he made no move. Had she imagined him speaking, or had he actually spoken?
Torn between what to do, she stood frozen for a few microts. 'Oh, frell,' she cursed herself. She stepped into the room, motioning the door shut behind her.
For a moment, Crichton's heart leapt – then sank. It was so quiet in the room. He wondered if she'd taken his invitation, or had turned around and left. After a few microts, he could no longer stand the silence.
"Aeryn?" he asked quietly.
"Crichton," came her response. It seemed almost disembodied, floating through the dark, sightless room. He opened his eyes, looking towards the door, but he could not discern her shape.
"Who the frell do you think you are, Crichton?" her voice came, quietly, dangerously. "Playing your… cat and mouse… games with me."
Crichton smiled softly in the dark at the use of his Human jargon. She'd even gotten it right this time. "I'm not playing any games with you, Aeryn. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to. If you… if you want it to happen, you'll come to me," he said, feeling slightly awkward. He feared how she would interpret 'it'. He wasn't sure how he'd interpret the word, himself.
"Don't frelling play with me, Crichton. You come into my quarters and assault me not once, but twice –"
"Assault?" He almost chuckled in disbelief, but caught himself. "Aeryn, please. You know and I know that you could kick my ass in a microt. You could've stopped me the moment you felt like it."
She was silent, contemplating that. He took her silence as a good sign; normally she'd be ready to protest and claim otherwise. He slid from the bed, and stood.
Aeryn heard the sheets rustle, and then the sound of feet hitting the floor. She knew, instantly, that he was seeking her out in the darkness. His footsteps stopped. She couldn't see him, and wondered how close he stood to her. The thought nearly drove her crazy until he spoke again.
"Aeryn," he murmured. He was bare inches from her. She'd been leaning against the doorframe, exactly where he'd expected her to be. He could picture her in his mind, standing in a shirt and shorts, arms crossed over her chest. "Don't you realize how much I care for you? I think you do. But you keep pushing me away. I can't stand it… we get so close, and then you freeze. I don't understand you."
He reached out, softly brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, the feel of his warm skin causing her cheeks to flush. She didn't speak. She didn't dare, although she had to bite her lower lip from saying something. After a few microts, Crichton lowered his hand, and turned. She heard the sheets rustle as he got back into bed.
"I'm waiting for you, Aeryn. I'm trying to be patient, but God, it's so hard. I don't want to push you. I don't want you to do something, and then regret it later. I want you, but I want you to be okay with that before we do anything we might regret. Goodnight, Aeryn," he added, his voice heavy and weary at the same time.
She heard the sheets rustle again, and then, silence. And the rage flared up again; her face grew hot. He'd done it again, frell him, he'd played her for a fool again and left her dangling. With a sudden, small sound, she found herself moving swiftly, surely across the room, straight for his bed. She was the cat now.
In a microt, she was on him, straddling his chest, his arms held above his head, grasped tightly by her fists. He nearly jumped out of his skin; this certainly wasn't what he'd expected. Although, maybe wished for, in his fantasies. He didn't resist her; he just hoped she wasn't planning to kill him.
"Is this what you want, Crichton?" she growled. He felt her soft hair brush over his face, tickling the tip of his nose. "You want me to come to you?"
"No, Aeryn. The question is, is this what you want," he murmured.
"Is this what you want, is it, John?" she reiterated.
A jolt shot through him. "What did you call me?" he asked, quietly, fully aware that she'd called him by his first name. She rarely did that – only in moments of crisis.
Aeryn froze on top of him. "Crichton. I called you Crichton," she said quickly, tensely.
"No, Aeryn, you called me John. You know you did."
She slumped, her grip loosening. Suddenly, three warm, wet drops splashed his face. 'She's crying,' he thought numbly. 'I've never seen her cry.'
"Alright. You win. I called you John." She climbed over him, sitting beside him on the bed. Her lower back pressed into his side, but she made no move to leave. John heard her draw a shaky breath, trying to get herself under control.
Aeryn wiped her eyes, miserable and mortified at herself. She was crying, for frell's sake. "What are we doing?" she asked. "What the frell have you done to me, John Crichton?"
"Same thing you're doing to me, darlin'," he answered. He sat up, facing her back. Carefully, he brushed her hair over one shoulder and leaned his chin lightly on the other. Aeryn drew another ragged breath, one that shook her entire body.
"Do you think this is easy? I'm stuck with the most beautiful woman in this side of the universe, and half the time I'm not sure if you want to kick the dren out of me or kiss me." John wrapped his arms loosely around her from behind, but made no further move.
She was quiet for a few moments, and they sat there, each contemplating their own thoughts. 'Beautiful,' she thought. She'd never thought of herself as beautiful before. As a Peacekeeper, it had never been a consideration. After a while, Aeryn spoke. "Do you really mean that?" she asked.
John nodded in the dark, rubbing his cheek against her neck. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."
They were quiet again, this time for nearly a quarter of an arn. Then John released her, reluctantly. "Look, Aeryn, it's late. You probably want to get back to sleep and all. I'm not gonna keep you here any longer." He planted a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek, and then resettled himself, expecting her to leave.
Instead, she settled in beside him on the bed. John was immensely surprised, but even more pleased. She lay beside him, on top of the sheets, a little stiffly. After a moment, John said, "Aeryn, would you be more comfortable under the sheet? I promise to behave. On my honor as a Boy Scout." He lifted the sheets, inviting her to join him.
And it was such an inviting offer, Aeryn almost couldn't refuse. She could feel the warmth radiating from where he was laying on the bed. And it was cold in the room. "Yes," she said softly. "On your word of honor, John. Remember that."
As Aeryn slipped under the covers, settling against him, John noted that she hadn't reverted to calling him Crichton. 'That,' he thought to himself, 'has definitely got to be a good thing.' Nestled together in his bed, Aeryn and John drifted into sleep. The sleep was deep, unbroken by dreams or nightmares, and John Crichton kept his promise.
~
Aeryn awoke first, drifting out of the best sleep she'd had in nearly a weekan. For a moment, she felt disoriented, wondering where the frell she was, and whose weight that was, pressing against her. Then the events of the previous night flooded back to her, and her eyes shot open.
Microts later, she found her panic to be unjustified. John was still asleep. At some point during the night, she'd turned, and she was now facing him. She realized that his arm was draped over his waist, holding her close to him throughout the night's sleep.
Aeryn had never been so close to John when he was this still. From this vantage point, she could see faint lines sprinkled around his eyes. The past few monens had been stressful for all of the crew aboard Moya, but it had hit John the worst. He was the farthest from home, he'd not seen another member of his species for nearly a cycle, he'd left everything he'd ever known, and it had begun to take it's toll on him. For all of his ease and calm, he'd obviously suffered.
She reached up and gently traced the curve of his closed eyelid with her finger. His eyelashes tickled her fingertips, and she wondered at it. She had never been so fascinated, frustrated, and confounded by one person before.
Aeryn's fingers traced their way down his cheek, and her thumb brushed softly over his lips. They were warm, and she had to suppress a sudden urge to kiss him. The inner voice that had represented everything her time as a Peacekeeper shouted at her angrily, telling her that she shouldn't be here, she should leave, and she shouldn't be touching him. He wasn't even of her frelling species.
John's eyebrows creased and his lips pursed momentarily. Aeryn gasped inwardly, snatching her hand away as if she'd burned it. She regarded him with dread, fearing that he'd awaken, but after a few microts, his brow smoothed and he continued to sleep.
Aeryn let out a small sigh of relief. She had to get out of there, now, before she was tempted to do something stupid. Something she might regret. And she was so sorely tempted to do so.
She'd expected Crichton to make another move on her when she'd entered his room the night before. But he'd sworn he wouldn't, and he kept his promise. Aeryn didn't know whether to be shocked, flattered, disappointed, or angry. The storm of emotions rolled through her mind, not the least among them being desire. She felt ashamed of herself, desiring this creature she'd been taught was inferior. But John had proven himself, several times over.
Aeryn stopped the thoughts before they could go any further, slipping carefully out of John's grasp. He stirred again as she freed herself, and she stopped, frozen. He settled back into bed, quietly, and Aeryn carefully extricated herself from his bed.
The lights were on in Moya's corridors again, and she checked carefully for anyone coming from either direction before opening the doorway further. Spotting no activity, she darted out the door, and made her way swiftly back to her own quarters.
~
Chiana was perched in the shadows, across the corridor from Crichton's quarters. She'd managed to clamber up into a secluded piece of ventilation, planning to tackle John as he left his quarters. But what she saw instead surprised her.
Aeryn Sun, former member of the Pleisar regiment of Peacekeepers, stuck her head out the door and searched the hall. Chiana ducked down, being as still and quiet as she possibly could. If Aeryn saw her, she was a dead girl.
A moment later, she heard the sound of bare feet on the floor, slowly fading away. Chiana poked her head out of her hiding place. Aeryn was gone.
Chiana smirked. 'Oh, this is way too good to pass up,' she thought.
~
Aeryn walked into the galley half an arn later, to find the room empty, save for Chiana, who was seated at the table and smirking smugly over her plate of food cubes. Aeryn looked at her, then frowned. Something was up, and she could sense it immediately with one look at Chiana's face.
Aeryn grabbed some food cubes, and sat down at the opposite end of the table, as far from Chiana as she could get. She stared into her food cubes intently, choosing to ignore Chiana's presence.
"So, how was he? Any good?" Chiana's voice purred.
Aeryn stopped, the cube she'd been about to eat halfway between her plate and mouth. "What did you say?" she asked, in a quiet voice.
"Crichton. Is he any good? I know you… visited… him last night." Chiana smirked again.
In a flash, Aeryn had dropped her food and was across the table. Her hand was clenched tightly about the young Nebari's throat. Chiana dropped her food cube with a squeak, fear registering on her face.
"You, little maggot, do not know what you're talking about. And if I were you, I wouldn't talk any more. And I suggest you take that advice to heart," Aeryn snarled. She tightened her grasp to show that she meant business, then roughly released Chiana, and stormed out of the room.
~
John was distracted all morning. Nearly all the crew noticed, except for Rygel. They wisely held their silence, and didn't comment on his mood. They all knew exactly what was bothering him.
Later in the solar day, in a meeting on Command, Pilot informed the crew that Moya had detected a commerce planet approximately four solar days away. After some discussion, they decided to stop. They'd been eating nothing but food cubes for weekans, and nearly everyone on board wanted to find some fresh food.
The meeting was tense. Aeryn avoided John's gaze, while it seemed that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Chiana slinked about in the shadows, staying as far from Aeryn's grasp as she could. Zhaan and D'Argo merely exchanged glances that were both worrisome and frustrated.
Before the meeting ended, Pilot informed the crew that one of the transport pods had been damaged, and needed repairs. The navigational system had been malfunctioning, and it would not be good if it stopped functioning altogether once they had landed on the commerce planet. John volunteered to fix it, and headed to the docking bay where the vehicles were stored.
~
John stared at the wires beneath the console. He frowned again, and then sighed. "I have no frelling idea what I am doing," he muttered.
He was dreading it, but he was going to have to ask Aeryn for assistance. They'd been avoiding each other all day. He was unsure what to make of her departure before he awoke, hoping he hadn't unknowingly done something during the night to offend Aeryn. He wasn't even sure how long she'd stayed, and the questions had been echoing through his mind for the past few arns.
"Pilot," he called over the comm. "Can you locate Aeryn for me?"
"Yes, Commander. She is on the Command Deck."
"Thanks, Pilot. Aeryn," he called again, "I need your help down in the docking bay."
A moment of silence, then "I'll be there in a moment."
~
Aeryn entered the transport pod quietly. She found Crichton digging about under a console, his back to her. She watched him work for a few microts as he muttered to himself.
"Crichton."
He jumped, bumping his head on the underside of the console, then turned and stood. "Aeryn," he answered. "I need your help. I can't figure out which frelling wire does what."
She sighed and strode to the console, taking a look at his work. "No wonder you can't get it to work. You've got the wires to this console mixed up."
"Oh," he said, feeling stupid. There was a note of impatience in her voice.
"Here," she said, pointing. "Take this wire here, and this one, and splice them together."
He grabbed the wires, and began to do as she instructed, when she yelled, "No, not that one – you're going to electrocute yourself!"
Sure enough, a flash of blue light arced between the wires. John let out a small yell, dropping the wires and backing away, landing squarely on his backside. The lights in the pod flickered, then completely failed.
"Crichton! Are you alright?" Aeryn asked, concern surfacing in her voice.
After a moment, he looked up, rubbing his hands together. "Yeah, I… it just rattled my brain a little… made my teeth vibrate."
She looked at him for a moment, relieved that he was all right. But her face only showed mild annoyance. She held out her hand. "Come on, get up. We've got to finish this."
As he took her hand and began to rise, Moya lurched. John tripped over his own feet, falling over again, this time dragging Aeryn with him. She landed on top of him, and he let out a whoosh of air.
Moya grew still. Both Aeryn and John knew what happened almost immediately. No call came over their comms alerting them to an attack; Moya's baby had simply shifted again. The lurches were becoming more and more frequent as the child grew bigger.
Aeryn looked down at John. She lay on top of him, their limbs tangled together. She was exquisitely aware of his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, from when he had grabbed her in the fall. He looked up at her with his blue eyes that revealed so much, and Aeryn realized that his other hand was tangled in her hair.
The desire she'd felt for him earlier raged up in her again, like an inferno. He was here, he was accessible, and the suggestive position their stumble had left them in only made the desire swell and grow brighter.
John gasped as he struggled to regain his breath. He'd not expected the lurch, and had instinctively pulled Aeryn into him, taking the brunt of the fall. It was only when the ship grew still that he became aware of how tightly he was holding Aeryn. And her proximity to him. He could still smell the oil he'd used to scent her hair. It had grown fainter since the previous morning, but it was still delicious.
He regained his breath quickly, and then spoke. "Aeryn, I…" he began, starting to disentangle himself.
"Shut up, John," she cut him off. She looked down to him, her grey eyes meeting his clear, direct ones. The war of feelings within her stilled, a clear victor emerging. Desire.
John looked up at Aeryn, who was studying him carefully. Something was happening here. John didn't know if it was good or bad, but he was suddenly nervous. He opened his mouth to speak again, when the sudden tension broke.
She pulled his head up, off the floor, her lips going to his. She kissed him hard. For a moment, he seemed to stunned to react, and then did so, meeting her passion. He slid his hand up her back, joining the other in her hair. After a moment, they pulled apart.
"Aeryn," he asked. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Her only answer was to kiss him again, urgently. She sat up, pulling off her vest, straddling his waist. Aeryn untucked his shirt from his pants, pulling it over his head. John helped her struggle with it, and then it was off.
John dragged her down again, kissing her softly, forcing her to slow her frantic pace. He tasted her lips, which were sweet and soft. Aeryn closed her eyes, running her fingers through his short hair. His hands reached for her back again, sliding over her shirt, kneading the tensed muscles. They loosened beneath his fingers, and Aeryn let loose a small sigh.
The desire still growing in Aeryn consumed her as she felt John's warm hands caressing her back, and she was lost.
~
"Pilot, where the hezmana are Crichton and Aeryn?" D'Argo asked over his comm.
"According to Moya, they are still in the transport pod repairing the navigational systems."
D'Argo nodded to himself, and made his way down to the docking bay. The pair hadn't answered their comms when he'd tried them after Moya's lurch. It had worried him, but there were more immediate problems to attend to – Chiana had hurt her leg when she fell, and had needed assistance to get to the medical bay. When they arrived, Zhaan attended to her, but she refused to release D'Argo's hand for the duration, until she knew that she was all right.
D'Argo entered the bay. It was silent, and it looked… deserted. D'Argo's concern grew stronger, as he made his way to the transport pod. He found the hatch to the pod shut, and opened it. The interior was dark, and his worry increased tenfold. His eyes searched the gloom.
Just as he opened his mouth to call for John, he noticed them in the corner. They were curled up, sleeping under a spare blanket. Clothes lay scattered about them, and John was using his shirt as a makeshift pillow. Aeryn was using John's chest as her own version of a pillow. What's more, John's arm was curled about Aeryn's shoulders. And there was a small smile gracing her lips.
D'Argo quickly but quietly backed out of the pod, closing the hatch. As he turned away, a smile was evident on his face. 'Finally,' he thought. 'Now maybe those two will stop their constant bickering.'
With that, he strode off to find Zhaan.
~
John awoke to the sound of the hatch hissing shut. He sat up, aware that Aeryn was no longer asleep by his side. Her clothes were gone, and he was struck with a guilty feeling. He fought it as he pulled on his clothing and smoothed back his hair. He stood to leave the pod, then turned, remembering the blanket. He balled it up, then stowed it under a seat.
He exited the pod, hoping to find Aeryn. John searched Moya's tiers quickly, and then was struck with an idea. He headed for Command.
He passed through Command quickly, heading for the terrace. Zhaan was on duty, and John nodded to her as he passed out onto the terrace.
The beauty and spectacle of the stars never ceased to awe him, but he gave them only a cursory glance. Aeryn was here, on the terrace, where he'd expected to find her. She stared out into the universe, her back to the door.
John made his way to her side, where he stood quietly, enjoying the view of the universe. He looked over at Aeryn. She had straightened herself quickly, and her dark hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.
"Aeryn," he murmured, keeping his voice low.
"John," she answered in a similar tone. Then silence.
"Any regrets?" he asked. He kept his eyes on the stars, afraid of and hoping for her answer. 'Oh, God, what if she says yes?' his mind echoed.
"I…" Aeryn began. Her mouth snapped shut. Then, quietly, "No. No regrets." She closed her eyes for a moment, then swallowed hard. "None."
Immeasurable relief flooded through John. He felt a grin grow on his face, and then glanced over at Aeryn again. He stifled the grin, allowing himself only a small smile. She was watching him.
"There's something… you've…" she couldn't speak. She cursed herself silently, then began again. "There's something you do to me. Something you've done to all of us on Moya."
"Southern charm, darlin'," he drawled, purposely thickening his normally mild accent. At the look of incomprehension Aeryn gave him, he waved a hand. "It's an Earth thing." He grinned.
She smiled back at him, and then returned to watching the stars. The voices that had tormented her, the ones that had guided her during her life as a Peacekeeper were subdued for the moment. She was glad, satisfied with the relative peace of mind that now affected her.
John put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him. Aeryn didn't resist, and she tentatively mimicked his gesture. John looked at her in surprise, and smiled happily. He buried his face in her hair for a microt, and then placed a quick, chaste kiss on the top of her head.
They stood that way, watching the stars for nearly half an arn. Then John spoke again, a note of mischief in his voice. "You know, Aeryn, we still didn't fix that console in the transport pod…" he trailed off.
Aeryn let out a small laugh, and squeezed him tight for a moment. And for the first time, John felt that, even if he never found Earth again, he'd found a home.
END.