Come Free
Unending night
we all flirt with the tiniest notion, of self conclusion in one simplified motion...the trick is that you're never s'possed to act on it. no matter how unbearable this misery gets.
Aeryn stands ridged outside the grated doors; finally finding the perfect spot to quietly settle, out of her daughters sight but still able to see her clearly. She leans her body close against the hard bulkhead to her right, letting Moya's lining cool her forehead and her exposed skin.
Why is it so damn hot in here?
She is burning hot, so frelling hot, yet it isn't the environment that's causing the problem; it's the girl; the girl who was gradually growing into a woman.
She was only a baby last time Aeryn had seen her; a small child, all innocence and play. Small enough to hold close to her chest yet old enough to begin talking and hugging her back.
How the frell is this even possible?
She can't take her eyes off the bunk where the girl sits; they are glued to her, mesmerized. The girl is so much her father and so much…well, her.
The girl sighs, annoyed at the confines of her current situation, and blows a strand of lose hair from her face with the side of her mouth. Sandy blond hair pulled back tightly with a standard issue Peacekeeper hair tie, loose tendrils falling and softly sweeping the sides of her face. The gesture is a visible sign of her growing impatience; impatience that is quickly leading to frustration.
Their daughter still has the same piercing blue eyes she had as a child, the same eyes her father carries to this day. They are sharp and unending, deep like a great body of water.
The blue reminds Aeryn of John's earth.
Something she'd always loved about him she now sees so clearly in their offspring.
The girl is tall and thin, like her body has decided to grow up before it had a chance to grow out and catch up with itself. Yet she is muscular from years of training as a Peacekeeper cadet. Hard, almost cruel training Aeryn is all too familiar with. Training that has a way of turning small girls into rigid, lean fighters. Her face still held soft, fine features. So much of John, and yet the face is where she saw herself shining through as well.
Her daughter; she still can't wrap her mind around that glaringly overwhelming concept - has her mouth, her cheek bones, and a few freckles spotted on her nose and forehead. Still in the process of growing, her leathers hang loosely on her chest and her hips, waiting to be filled out.
She picks up a small, silver trinket that her father had set at the foot of the bunk before the concept of her occupying it had even entered their mind. It is something from the girl's childhood, a childhood that they were unwilling to let go of, unwilling to put away. A chapter of their life that they had left opened until they could continue it.
They had never lost the hope that they would be able to continue it, make it right. The trinket is a child's toy, something common and replaceable, yet she looks at it with a sense of wonder. Something that should have been so familiar to her, yet it was as foreign as a Luxan in water. She turns the small child's puzzle in her fingers gingerly and sets it down as if touching it will contaminate her.
She takes another quick look around her quarters and finally the dam of emotion breaks.
In the seeming privacy of the room, the girl doesn't even try to hide her confusion and fear. Small fists wipe at large tears, a dripping nose, and tired eyes. She continues on like this for some time finally giving up and lying back on the bunk due to sheer exhaustion, and all Aeryn can think of is holding her, comforting her child the way she should have been able to all along.
Before she even has a chance to reign in her unhinging emotions, her own tears are wetting her face.
So much guilt; there is so much guilt waiting to come to the surface.
So much missed time, so much to make up for. So much that they can't change and so much that they'll never know.
These are feelings that she can't remember having dealt with in a very long time, if ever.
This is her child, part of her and part of John. A product of their love, a concept that used to be so frelling foreign to her, something she couldn't even wrap her mind around; didn't want to wrap her mind around. And then she held D'Argo in her arms for the first time, and couldn't imagine her life any other way. Any hope of going back to the way things were before was lost at that point.
They were more than a part of her.
They ARE her.
This girl is her, and yet she doesn't even know the child. She softly wipes at her check before deciding to just let the tears fall. Fall into nothing, because that's what she feels like doing. She has never, in all of her cycles, shied away from a task, a challenge. She is a soldier. But this task, this emotional task, it seems almost overwhelming to her.
She feels a soft brush on her bare shoulder, a sweeping dance of rough fingers and gentle touch.
"S'okay baby; Things are gonna get better from here. The hard part's over. We've got her, we've got her back and we won't let her go for a long time," her husband whispers in her ear, quite aware of her position as spy. He softly kisses her temple and she rests her hand on top of his as it sits on her shoulder.
She leans into him, relying on his strength, something she rarely felt the need to do, but this is bigger than even her. She shakes her head slightly, making her uncertainty known, and lets the tears continue to softly fall, cooling her cheeks. It's not okay. None of it's okay. It would take a long time before any of this could possibly be okay.