A Twist of Fate (PG)

Written as a Secret Santa for Vinegardog on Terra Firma

Setting, Spoliers: AU, from AHR.

Warnings: J/A Ship Alert. Some low level violence, language, sexual situations.

OK, it's a bit of a cheat, but the outline of this fic has been languishing in my WIP folder for about a year, labelled 'Nice Idea, but actual words fail me.' My Secret Santa assignment seemed to fit it perfectly, so that was the kick up the eema I needed to get the opening chunk written and polished. Once you've read it, hopefully, you'll see that it is potentially the first part of a longer fic. If the muses start being kinder to me, you might get subsequent chapters. If not, Happy Christmas, anyway.

Thanks: To Arevhat and pdsldl for beta duties.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made here.

Words: 7733

A Twist Of Fate (PG)

Always trailing a few steps behind Crichton, Aeryn made her way across the sunny plaza as best she could, considering the circumstances. The bizarre Erp-woman dress made her feel exposed and vulnerable. It somehow contrived to restrict her movements whilst simultaneously exposing an inordinate amount of flesh to the eyes of every passer by. Yet the dress was as nothing compared to the impractical human footwear. The so-called shoes hurt her feet and left her feeling hobbled. With the amount of skin she was displaying, the ungainly walk she was forced to adopt in the shoes and, most importantly, the fact that she was an alien fugitive in fear of being apprehended at any moment by these barbarians, she was not feeling very comfortable or in control of her life. Indeed, Aeryn was just about sufficiently distracted to forget about certain other things which, in different circumstances, would have greatly concerned her.

One of the things preying on her mind was the fact that she had finally got over her reservations and recreated with Crichton the previous night. He had been a good frell, and nowhere near as alien as she had half-feared for the last few monens. Almost ever since the inclination to frell him had first crossed her mind, when she had awoken that first time on Moya to find him naked on the floor of her cell, she had been held back by dread at the prospect of what it might be like to recreate with an alien. Even an alien who looked so Sebacean. But last night, as when they had found themselves caught in the Flax, it had hardly seemed to matter any more. Now, as far as Crichton was concerned, that taboo was, if not forgotten, no longer the pressing issue it had once been for her. So wasn't that was one thing to be grateful for, she snorted to herself?. It had been a good frell, more than good. Yes, that frell alone almost made up for everything else which had happened to her on this hell-hole. Almost.

However, even the best frell imaginable couldn't make up for the fact that, all things considered, Aeryn was not having the best of weekens.

In the space of a few arns she had gone from being a free woman to a prisoner and then had swiftly progressed to being a fugitive. Or was that back to being a fugitive? No matter: it only mattered that things had got worse. But that was just a small part of her misfortune. She had seen one shipmate murdered. She refused to consider calling Rygel a friend, especially now that he was dead. She felt the need to distance herself even further from him, even though the thought of what had happened to him had stirred feelings in her she never knew she felt, least of all in regard to the treacherous, dishonourable slug. Then D'Argo had been dragged away, presumably to suffer a similar fate. The Luxan was an honourable fellow warrior, and she could no longer entirely bury the most un-Peacekeeper like admission that she felt some degree of friendship towards him. Then had come the escape and, of course, the subsequent night with Jo….. Crichton. With Crichton, she insisted to herself. Using his second name made it easier to maintain a healthy emotional distance.

As they made their way across the plaza she walked a couple of paces behind the human. She found her eyes drawn to the black bag slung across his broad, muscular shoulders, shoulders that, just arns before, she had explored in intimate detail. Everything she had been struggling with for the last half cycle had come to a head last night, just as it almost had that previous time in the Flax when they had both thought that they would surely soon be dead. Both times it had taken the prospect of imminent death to allow her to act on her feelings towards John. Towards Crichton, she caught herself once more. As she watched him walk, she was suddenly grateful that he could not see her own features and the warring thoughts and feelings written all over them.

They had nearly crossed the plaza now and would soon be passing a merchant stall of some sort which lay to their left. A pretty blonde-haired woman, evidently out for some exercise, was coming towards them, her loomas bobbing up and down slightly but probably hypnotically for a male. The female was aiming to pass between them and the merchant. Seeing John's head turn towards the blonde, Aeryn was suddenly seized by an unfamiliar feeling, almost like that which she had felt when she had discovered John and Gilina embracing on the Zelbinion. She felt an irrational anger that Crichton should be sexually interested in any female other than herself. She hurried to catch him up, as best she could in these frelling shoes and dress, instinctively coming up on his right to keep her own dominant weapons hand free and, she hoped, to draw his eyes away from the blonde woman. She knew that keeping her right arm free was a useless gesture on her part, as John had their only gun, there being no where to conceal it about her own flimsily-clothed person, but it was a habit she could not shake. She caught his right arm with her own left and leant in close to talk to him, desperately trying to ensure that no one could overhear her speaking.

"We're too exposed, John, we need to get away from here, as far and as quickly as we can," she hissed, desperate to ensure his attention and to minimize the chance someone might overhear her non-human tongue. John leant in close and turned his head slightly to listen to her as they passed the merchant stall and turned right, away from the waterfront and back towards the road. Aeryn allowed herself an inner smile at her small victory as the blonde woman passed onwards, ignored now by John.

"I know Aeryn, I know," John replied, evidently trying to placate her. His voice was urgent, but she could tell that he was desperately trying to remain calm. She said no more, but for some reason remained walking in step with him, her arm entwined with his. Although she told herself she was only doing so for physical support and to slow him down to her walking speed, she found the physical intimacy oddly satisfying and would have been loath to break away even if he had been walking at her pace.

A short time later they came to the edge of the plaza, standing on a raised edge just denches from where a multitude of wheel transports thundered, roared and clattered past. Beyond she could see more buildings framing either an ocean or an estuary. Aeryn stifled a gasp at the awesome sight of so much azure water, blending as it did with an equally blue sky. For a moment it reminded her of John's eyes, but then she buried the thought as frivolous and unbecoming of a Peacekeeper Officer, even a disgraced one such as herself.

"The railroad station is a few blocks over," John commented, taking the opportunity of her distraction to nuzzle her ear slightly. Aeryn struggled with the urge to pull away, but elected not to do so at risk of causing a scene and drawing attention to them. "We'll catch a train to the next city; get the hell out of Dodge." Then, responding to who-knew-what signal that it was safe, John pulled her closer to him and stepped out into a gap which had suddenly appeared in the traffic. When Aeryn's eyes convinced her pounding heart that they were in a temporary, traffic-free oasis and that they were not about to be killed by some giant wheeled vehicle she twisted the surface flesh on John's arm slightly but no doubt painfully. His attention gained, she hissed at him.

"Frelling warn me next time before pulling a stunt like that! I thought we were going to be killed just now when you dragged me into the traffic!"

John looked back at her, his genuine surprise evidently quickly giving way to understanding of how she must have felt, not knowing anything about traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. "Umm, uhh, sorry. Didn't think," he grunted in genuine apology and seemed to recoil from her slightly, as though scared by her suddenly fierce demeanour. Aeryn scowled back at him for another microt, although now because she was angry with herself for over-reacting and destroying the degree of closeness she had felt to Crichton before they had begun to cross the road. As they reached the other side and stepped up onto what even she now knew to be the relative safety of the sidewalk she pulled him closer again, trying to re-establish what they had lost.

"Its fine, John," she replied, snaking the fingers of her hand to capture and twine with Crichton's. "Just warn me next time."

John looked at her for a long few microts, his frown and slightly agape mouth broadcasting his confusion at her flip-flopping behaviour. Then he seemed to snap out of it and come to an accommodation in his mind. He squeezed her had reassuringly. "Of course, babe. It's just so easy to forget sometimes… things I take for granted. You know?"

Although he was not exactly making sense with his poorly constructed sentences, she found that she did indeed know. She thought of all of those monens after John had first arrived in the Uncharted Territories when he had seemingly not known the most basic things. She had sometimes been so frustrated with him, so unable even to take the time to consider that he might know things that were second nature to everyone else. Now, as she had sometimes heard John say, the boot was on the other foot.

'~'

The huge, bustling railroad station was crowded with humanity of all ages, shapes, colours and smells, giving Aeryn her first chance to truly observe how diverse humans could be. The humans she had met whilst in captivity had seemed little different from Peacekeepers, in that they shared a certain physical and sartorial homogeneity. Travelling to the safe house the previous day and then to the station today had begun to show her that humans could be a little more diverse than that, but now, crushed together with hundreds of them, old and young, rich and poor, the sheer magnitude of their diversity left her almost shocked. One of the most surprising things of all was their colourings. Sebaceans all had similar skin colour and she had not previously realised that the same did not apply to humans.

But she barely had time to process all of these revelations. They had a mission to perform: Get on a mass transportation device and escape from the city. They had barely entered the station, making their way down a narrow corridor between a fast food outlet and what John had called a newsagent when John pulled Aeryn over towards the newsagent-side of the corridor.

"You should wait here while I buy some tickets," John instructed her, "Look at some magazines or something." He was just about to advise her to keep a low profile by sticking to the ones which looked as though they concerned womens' clothes and fashion, rather than those related to guns, fighting and military aircraft when Aeryn interrupted him. What she had noticed and that he had not was that, slightly further into the station, stood several pairs of uniformed humans. They were clearly some sort of paramilitary force and they seemed to be checking everyone who passed, as though looking for someone. Despite her lack of familiarity with Erp and its ways, she could hazard a pretty good guess as to who it was they might be looking for. She gently circled John, taking his hands and spinning them both through 180 degrees, so that he could see the guards without making it obvious that they were looking.

"We have to go John. Can you see the guards?" John toyed with her hair, moving his face close to hers, to cover that he was really looking to see the guards and to enable him to whisper to her. It was a wise subterfuge, but Aeryn found that she was enjoying it for entirely different reasons. She pushed the thought away, determined to focus on the matter at hand rather than on the feel of Crichtons' hands, the proximity of his mouth and body.

"Hell!" he exclaimed in a soft whisper. "They must be guarding all the main stations routes out of town. We'll have to try something else."

"Can't we try to slip by?" She asked, desperate not to give up on their escape plan.

"You, the stunning alien babe? Slip by a bunch of guys unnoticed?" John chuckled into her ear. "What planet are you from, missy?"

Aeryn was about to protest that there must be some way of doing so, but John had already snaked his arm through hers and was leading her back out the way they had come in.

'~'

The scruffy truckstop was little more than a bunch of spaces to park vehicles and a bar: Perfect for their needs, John had explained. It was far less likely to have routine surveillance cameras or to warrant agents on the look-out for him and Aeryn than many other places that they might procure transportation. Casting his eyes around the bar, it didn't take John long to settle on a suitable couple to target to get a ride out of town.

"Heard y'all speaking: It's good to hear someone from back home. These seats taken?" John asked, pouring on the accent and the smile as he tried to charm the hippy-looking middle aged couple, seated at their booth eating some sort of elaborate, to Aeryn's eyes, meal. Aeryn, already instructed of the part expected of her in their little play, stood beside John, beaming one of her most brilliant smiles. She was not exactly pleased to have to pretend to be John's mute, long-term recreation partner, but she conceded the sense of his argument, if only because it was his world and she had to trust him to know what might work.

"Sure thing, son," replied the seated man in a California drawl. John motioned Aeryn into the booth and, dropping their stolen holdall beside the bench, followed her in.

"Name's John Rigel," John continued, holding out a hand.

"Don," the man indicated.

"Suze, Suze Clarke," the old man's companion indicated, eyeing up the younger couple. Her gaze settled on Aeryn, expecting a reply from the female newcomer. Aeryn opened her mouth, but then, at the last microt, remembered the plan they had agreed to earlier.

"My girlfriend's called Erin," John supplied with what even Aeryn could recognize as a sad smile. "She can't really speak." John's hand settled on hers, a prelude to his thumb stroking her knuckles. Aeryn forced out a reluctant, unhappy smile of her own. Fortunately, albeit for different reasons to those colouring her thoughts, it was exactly what was expected of her. "Operation to remove a polyp on her vocal chords last year went kinda wrong."

The older couple eyed cooed in sympathy before John added. "Can't be helped, but we find ways to communicate," he finished, taking a firmer hold of her left hand and pulling it to his lips for a pecking kiss.

Aeryn's jaw loosened and her lips opened. On the one hand, she was annoyed with John for taking such liberties, including involving her in such a public display of affection. It was so alien to her own upbringing, so outside her comfort zone. But those feelings were at war with the frisson of sexual excitement, mixed with some other warm sensation which she could not quite identify, which swept over her as he had taken her hand and then kissed the fingers. Her open lips transformed into another broad smile, whilst her fingers gave his the briefest squeeze before she stole her hand back and settled it, palm down and so hopefully out of bounds, on the worn table in front of her.

"Aw, that's so sad, ain't it Don?" the older woman cooed making some sort of large, eye-fluttering expression at Aeryn which Aeryn found completely incomprehensible. As she spoke Suze reached out a sympathetic hand to lay on Aeryn's. It took all of Aeryn's self- control not to snatch her hand away or remonstrate with the woman. No one touched her without her permission, without her initiating it, no one… except, well, except, now, for John, it seemed. Suze squeezed Aeryn's hand and gave a sympathetic smile, whilst Aeryn tensed against the urge to break away, forcing herself to return a small smile of her own.

"You're from Tennessee, ain't you?" Don asked between sips of coffee. John nodded with a wide, toothy grin. "So what brings you out here, son?"

"Erin and I decided to come here on a long holiday," John replied, turning on the charm, complete with goofy smile. "Once we knew she was all done with the doctors. We wanted to travel the world, see a little bit of life. And you?"

"Early retirement," Suze replied, bubbling with enthusiasm at the prospect of gossiping with a younger couple from her own country. "I always wanted to see Australia, so we came over here, hired ourselves an RV and… well… here we are!"

The next half arn passed in a blur of incomprehension for Aeryn, so much so that she was half-grateful for the cover story that she was mute. John and the two human elders seemed to be communicating verbally and non-verbally in a manner which she simply had no understanding of. All she could do was nod and smile politely whenever it seemed appropriate to do so. She completely missed the moment, if there was even a single point in time, when it was decided that the Don and Suze would give them a ride to the next city.

It was almost only when they stood to leave that realisation dawned on Aeryn that that was Crichton's plan and that they were going to imminently follow through with it. She was particularly irritated that the combination of their cover story and Crichton's execution of his plan left no opportunity for her to voice her own views on the wisdom or details of what was proposed. Perplexed and frustrated, Aeryn had little choice but to accompany the three humans outside and join them in the primitive transport. She resolved to find an opportunity later when she might forcefully make her opinions know to Crichton.

'~'

Aeryn had to concede that John's plan seemed to have actually worked. They were soon outside the city, heading north. The authorities hadn't dared to throw up a full, hard cordon, perhaps fearing the questions it might raise if they did so. As John had hoped, they had managed to avoid the sharp eyes of the police manning the soft cordon merely by sitting, out of sight, in the back of the Clarkes' cavernous campervan. Every mile they drove beyond the city limits was a small victory which helped John, if not Aeryn, to breathe easier.

After what seemed like a couple of arns on the road, during which Aeryn almost blew their cover story several times by nearly speaking in response to something or other, they stopped in another service area to use the refreshment facilities. The break gave John and Aeryn a short opportunity to discuss how things had gone and their next move. Aeryn wasted no time in letting John know how she felt.

"I am very angry, Crichton," she hissed, rounding on him as soon as Don and Suze were out of sight and earshot. Despite all of the time she had had to plan what she might say, she found she had trouble now using more eloquent words to express her displeasure. However, the way he recoiled from her evidently unexpected outburst, showed her that her message had gotten across regardless.

"Huh?" John replied with equal eloquence. "What's the matter, babe?" He tried to snag her hand, but she snatched it away, furiously. "We got out the city, didn't we?"

"What's the matter? Thanks to you I've had to keep my mouth shut and just go along with your… your fahrbot plan, or risk exposing ourselves!"

"Whoa!" John tried to calm her. "You know you can't speak the lingo…"

"But I can speak!"

"Yeah, but Sebacean doesn't sound like any human language I know… Well, there might be some, but none as would make any sense. Not with you speaking it and me not, but with me still able to understand you!"

Aeryn conceded his point with a growl, before tossing her hair back, tilting her head just a fraction to one side and fixing him with a quizzical glare. "So, what comes next in this great plan of yours? Do we requisition their vehicle?" she asked, finding herself growing calmer now that she was at least able to speak again and so participate in drawing up their next moves.

"What? No, no!" John protested. "We can't steal their RV. Too high profile. Besides… I mean, we can't do that to such lovely old couple. Not after they've been so nice to us and everything."

"I don't understand, John," she frowned. "How is taking their vehicle different from taking the vehicle of someone we do not know? For all we know these other people could be even 'lovelier' and more ancient? They could even be more of a couple."

"I dunno, it's like…" John floundered, trying to think of a rational explanation. "It's just they're how I imagine…. Umm… I dunno…. You and me if…." His words dried up completely at the sight of Aeryn staring at him open mouthed. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few microts. He evidently thought he'd gone too far and upset her, although for her part, she was not sure what she thought. The idea of spending so long with a recreational partner that they might grow old together had simply never crossed her mind before as something which might apply to her. She knew that it happened, in other cultures. But as something which might apply to her, it was just such an alien concept that she didn't know what to think about it.

"Well, we can't risk staying with them," Aeryn stated eventually, changing the subject and breaking the silence. She decided that she had no desire to explore John's strangely enticing fantasies of them growing old together in more detail at this time. Instead she elected to take refuge in something she did understand: How to evade capture. Once the authorities had time to plan, she was sure they would be able to devise some sort of cover story to enable them to distribute the Earth equivalent of Wanted beacons. When the authorities did that, Don and Suze would instantly recognize them now that they had spent so many arns in their company. She told John as much.

"Yeah, we need to hit out on our own," John agreed.

"So, what do you propose, John?"

"Well….," John paused. Aeryn reckoned that he was making up his plan as he went along and was stalling for a few microts while he tried to think of something. "I reckon we should thank them for the ride, then steal ourselves a car. A car'd be lower profile with the cops, plus we can do it over a few times. Should help our trail to go cold."

Albeit that she thought it was not a well-thought through plan, Aeryn could not think of any better alternatives. Reluctantly, thinking that if only she knew more about this planet then she might be able to formulate a more sensible plan, she agreed.

'~'

A further hour and a half's drive with Don and Suze took them to the next major town. John spent the time explaining the excuse that they needed to turn west, whereas Don and Suze had said many times previously on the trip how they were heading north. They stopped at a service area and shared a last meal together, which John insisted on paying for out of their meager funds. As they finished their meal, John lavished profuse thanks on the older couple and then they said their goodbyes.

"So, next we need to requisition a land transport," Aeryn stated, her face betraying no emotions once again as they watched the RV pull back out into the traffic.

"That's 'steal a car' in English," John said with slow, careful enunciation as he flashed her a grin back. She turned and scowled at him for a microt, turned back to watch the traffic for another microt then stole a glance back at him. He was still grinning at her. It was infectious: Against her better will and judgement she grinned back at him. "You gotta start learning some useful English phrases," he winked at her.

"Tsteel ack ah?" she hazarded. If she was going to be stuck on this primitive rock then he was right, she was going to have to try to learn their frelling stupid language, seeing as they were too primitive to have heard of translator microbes.

"That's my girl!" John encouraged. "C'mon, we'll make a human of you yet." He jerked his head to indicate they should head for the large, nearby car park, probably to acquire the aforementioned vehicle, so he entirely missed the arched eyebrow which accompanied her snort of derision at his suggestion.

"No frelling way!" she muttered and hurried after him.

After a few microts he stopped in a quiet corner of the car park, close to a pair of small transports. One was a new, expensive looking car and a much older, battered one. John took a quick, final look around and then, to Aeryn's surprise he started trying to snurch the older vehicle.

"Why are you choosing this one?" Aeryn asked, standing look out whilst John fumbled beneath the control panel of the thoroughly unremarkable vehicle.

"Because…." John paused as he grunted at something he was doing. "This one won't stand out so much and is a darn sight easier to break into and hotwire than something more modern." He paused for a moment then grunted. "There!" he finished triumphantly as the engine coughed into life.

Noxious fumes and a cloud of small particles surrounded Aeryn and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. However, there was no time to waste –she was well aware that the owner of the vehicle could return at any moment and raise the alarm. No sooner had she slipped into the front passenger seat, clutching their holdall between her knees, than John began to drive away. As she continued to keep watch for potential trouble, she allowed a few other thoughts to partially distract her. Her feelings were so confused: Part of her felt like mocking John's people for their primitive transport and the ease with which it could be stolen; part of her felt like teasing John over his obviously criminal skills in stealing the vehicle; but yet another part wanted to congratulate him on having done it so quickly and efficiently. She had expected that seeing him operate in his home environment would make him less of a mystery to her, but, if anything, it had revealed new and intriguing aspects of his personality.

"We ought to change our appearances a bit more," John commented as he drove, breaking her reverie. He seemed to be headed for the main route north-west, heading out of town. It was different to what they had told the Clarkes and Aeryn found herself silently approving of his subterfuge. "Maybe I should grow a beard?" he snorted, the threat of the facial hair bringing her attention back to what he was actually saying to her.

"Well, I think actually that would work for you," Aeryn replied with the hint of a smile. "You were completely unrecognizable when you got back from Aquarra," she teased.

"Hmph, thank you for that, missy."

"Of course, if you did grow another beard, then I am not sure that I could ever bring myself to recreate with you again….."

"Not even if I tickle you with it?" John laughed cockily and suggestively, squeezing her knee to punctuate his suggestion.

"No," Aeryn deadpanned, completely deflating his ardour and ego.

"So," John continued after a long pause, apparently in order to consider her words, "shelving the beard idea… what else could we do?" He gave her a moment to reply, but when she didn't he pressed on. "You could cut your hair short?"

"You could grow yours long?"

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"Exactly. So we are agreed on that," Aeryn smirked, savouring the banter.

"Good, mine wasn't a serious suggestion anyway." John continued, matching her grin. "I love your long hair, suits you."

"Mine was," Aeryn snorted. "A serious suggestion. You'd look nice with a ponytail." John frowned and flashed a quick sideways glance at her. She didn't seem to be kidding. But then, when he thought about it, a lot of the Peacekeeper males seemed to have ponytails. If that was what she was used to, maybe she really did like that look?

"We could start by dying our hair different colours?" John suggested, changing the subject because he didn't like where it was taking his train of thought.

"Like blonde?" Aeryn asked carefully, remembering Gilina. "Do you…. Do you like blonde…. Women?" she continued, unable to prevent her inner turmoil from revealing itself through her hesitant speech.

"Hah, not especially," John replied casually, perhaps too casually, reaching a hand across and gently squeezing her leg, just above the knee. It wasn't so long ago that Aeryn would have violently batted away such an uninvited, deliberate physical contact. Yet now, for some reason, she found the gesture vaguely comforting.

"Fine," she remarked, staring at John's hand, which remained resting on her knee, unsure of why it was still there or what she should do about it. "Whatever you think is best."

"Blonde it is, then," he replied, briefly turning to flash her a quick wink and a broad grin. She blushed and turned her face away from him, although she turned back almost immediately when he then withdrew his hand. She was sure he caught the look of loss in her eyes as she stared first at where his hand had been and then at the hand itself, now returned to piloting duties. His throaty chuckle certainly suggested he had read her thoughts perfectly.

'~'

It was hot in their motel room. Uncomfortably hot for Aeryn. John had gone out half an arn earlier, just after they had checked in, in order to get some supplies and some hair dye, leaving Aeryn alone in the room. Unfortunately, she was unable to work out how the rooms' coolant unit worked. John had explained it, along with a number of other things, when they had arrived, but she had foolishly not given his words her full attention. As she sat, sweltering and wondering how long John would be, she had plenty of time to reflect on her oversight and on how unfairly she had treated John sometimes aboard Moya.

She remembered that there was a machine at the end of the corridor which John had said made ice: frozen water. What she wouldn't give for a container of that now. She had watched how John had operated the door catch. A little careful experimentation confirmed that she could re-open the door from the outside. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she slipped out for 100 microts and got herself some ice?

A short while later she was back in her room, sipping on a glass of iced water, revelling in her small triumph and in the feel of the cold glass on her forehead. Yes, she thought, she could cope quite easily until John returned. Then she would see if she could persuade him to cool her down further by running ice cubes over other parts of her anatomy. She smiled at the thought.

Suddenly she was shaken from her pleasant daydream by a knock on the door. "Room service!" Came a voice from outside. "Need to check your room." To Aeryn's ear, the voice sounded like the man from the reception desk when they had checked in.

Maybe she could somehow communicate to the motel employee that she wanted the room cooler? She strode to the door and opened it.

And she came face to face with Wilson, who was holding a handgun on her. His triumphant smile was the perfect counterbalance to her own look of shock.

"Yes! I thought it was you!" He crowed triumphantly. "Back into the room, slowly, Officer Sun." Wilson gestured with the gun, never taking his eyes off of her, never getting close enough for her to risk a kick or a lunge.

"Where's Crichton?" he asked, before apparently remembering that she could not speak English. Quickly, Wilson peered around the tiny room, establishing Crichton's absence. "Reckon he'll be back, soon enough. Blimey, this has got to be the luckiest break ever, spotting you out in the corridor just now."

Aeryn glowered coldly back at him before calling him a few choice insults in Sebacean.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones," he sneered back at her. Even Wilson couldn't miss her frown of confused incomprehension. "Just sit down on the edge of the bed!" He snapped at her.

Aeryn stared defiantly at Wilson and then at the gun. "Now!" he insisted, punctuating the command with a flick of his gun. "C'mon, I know you can understand me, even if you don't speak the lingo!" Reluctantly, still hoping for a chance to jump her captor, Aeryn slowly began to sit.

"You'd never have gotten away, anyway, you know…?" Wislon crowed as he covered her with the gun, edging round towards the phone. "Never have been free. We'd have kept coming after you. This way's probably better for Crichton: We might even let him out of the rat cage in a few years, if he's a good boy." Wilson grinned victoriously as he lifted the phone handset, set it on the bedside table then glanced down at the keypad to dial his number.

That momentary lapse in his guard was exactly what Aeryn had been waiting for. Even after her escape from the holding facility, the humans still clearly had no understanding of how dangerous she could be. She was on the agent in a flash, first disabling his gun-hand by seizing it in a steely grip, then head butting him to disorientate him before dropping him for good with a Pantak jab. It was all over in less than five microts.

Aeryn leant down and picked up the gun.

Maybe there was some truth in what Wilson had said. They would always be after her, and she couldn't see John abandoning her. He was too frelling compassionate for that. And, although she hated to admit it, she was sure that there was something more. She was fairly sure now that he was emotionally attached to her, which meant that he would likely not even see reason if she tried to argue with him about what might well be the least-worst outcome to their predicament. She understood more clearly now than ever before that he could never be free while she was on the run, and she didn't want to be the cause of so much suffering for him.

There was no possibility, however, that she would allow herself to be captured by the humans. Not after what she had heard that they had done to Rygel and D'Argo.

She weighed the gun in her hands. It was a primitive weapon, but doubtless effective at short range: The humans seemed to place a lot of trust in their power to kill or maim. It was doubtless quite effective. One shot from such a weapon, at close range and to the right target, and it would be over. No more running in fear, no more risk that they might take her alive. And John could be free. Maybe it would be for the best? A single shot, a fitting end for a soldier, and John could go back to his life and she would be free of the constant fear of capture and what would inevitably come afterwards.

Her Peacekeeper training told her it was the right thing to do, for the good of the unit: Avoid capture, give other members of your unit the best chance to escape. But she was no longer a Peacekeeper, and other thoughts and emotions now battled to be heard in her head.

'~'

John sauntered into the motel car park, a bag full of groceries, including a box of blonde hair dye, cradled in one arm. He might be a fugitive, on the run, but things weren't so bad. He was back on Earth, he had his health, and the weather was fabulous. And of course, there was Aeryn. Oh boy, was there Aeryn. If anything her behaviour was more confusing than ever, although he imagined that a lot of that was because she was so deeply confused herself, especially when it came to anything emotional or concerning a relationship. Yet the shock of their being on the run seemed to have finally broken the strongest barriers between them last night. And it had been fantastic. He was hoping that tonight would be similar. So many signals from her today suggested that he might well be in for another night of passion. Sure, there was still a long way to go, a heck of a long way to go, to fully break through to her emotionally, but for the first time they were together, truly together, and that was a step forward a long, long way.

He dodged round a couple of cars, making for the back steps up to their room. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Wilson's car. No mistaking it. Was it coincidence or his worst-fear already come to life that Wilson was here? No matter. Fate seemed to love messing with him lately, dealing him the worst hand imaginable. Somehow, Wilson was here: Assume the worst. It took every fibre of his self- control not to drop the shopping and set off towards their room at a run, calling Aeryn's name as he went. But to do so would only draw attention and risk to hasten their discovery. He marched smartly up to the entrance, stepped inside and, only then, once he was sure he was alone in the corridor, did he set down the groceries and run towards their room.

The door was locked. Should he knock? But that would announce his presence. No, he couldn't change whatever was waiting on the other side of the door, but if he arrived unannounced, he stood a chance of making a difference should his worst fears be realised. Hell, with his luck lately, whatever his worst fears might be, he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that they'd be realised.

John took a deep breath, stepped back and then kicked the door open. He paused for a second or two, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. Wilson lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed, obviously no longer a threat to anyone. Mere feet away stood Aeryn, a big, Earth handgun clutched in one hand. Although her face was pale and her eyes dark-rimmed and distressed, she reacted instantly and instinctively to his breaking through the door. Aeryn had the gun pointed at his head even before the door had finished swinging open.

John held up his hands in surrender and supplication. Not that that would have stopped Aeryn shooting him had her training instructed her to do so. "Is he, err, dead?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I… I couldn't…." she began as, pulling the door shut behind him, John moved across to circle her head in a supportive embrace. "I'm sorry…"

"Shh," John tried to soothe her, stroking her hair with one hand, moving on to her cheek a moment later as he pulled her into an embrace. He had no idea what she had to be sorry about or what it was she couldn't do. Hell, he still had no idea if Wilson were dead or alive, even.

"You have to leave me, John," she whispered. He pushed away from her slightly and frowned down at her.

"No way, sunshine!"

"No, really, you see, you can tell them it was all me. You can get your life back," Her words came flooding out, as though she had been rehearsing them in her head, which, indeed, she had. And no one will be trying to kill you anymore, she thought but did not say. Of all the things she feared, that John might be hurt trying to protect her now ranked as by far the greatest.

He shook his head gently before taking her face in both of his large, strong yet delicate hands and pulling her forehead to his.

"If they have me, or if I am dead, maybe they'll leave you alone," she whispered, biting on her lip and snorting back a tear. She didn't believe it either, but she so wanted it to be true, for John's sake. So that he could be free.

"Babe," he breathed and wiped her tear away with the pad of his thumb. "There's nothing in the Universe I'd trade for being with you." He kissed her gently, almost chastely on the forehead. She smiled nervously back. Part of her had always known and dreaded that he would reply like that. Another part of her fought back against the flood of emotions engulfing and contaminating her. But the greatest part of her thrilled at the sentiment behind his words. "And there's absolutely nothing I'd trade for your life. I wouldn't want to go back to my old life if I had to do it without you."

John reached down and snagged her left hand: the gun still dangled from the right. That right arm snaked round John and hugged him closer. Aeryn didn't know what to do next. She had said what she had intended to say, but she had not thought beyond that, and now she felt drained and shattered and completely lost.

They stood in silence for a handful of microts, desperately clinging to each other, until Aeryn pulled away, nodding her head and waving the gun towards Wilson.

"I don't understand how he found us," Aeryn remarked, her voice broken to match her shattered emotions.

"Me neither," John shrugged. "But it looks like it's only him, for now. But we oughta get outta here while we still can. Just in case."

Aeryn nodded and almost allowed herself to be led to the door by John before her training kicked in.

"Wait!" she insisted, pulling him up short. He silently questioned her with a frown. "One of the basic rules in a situation such as this is to secure resources. We should check him for currency and anything else we can use."

John thought for a moment then nodded, realizing that what she said was true. And besides, he thought, it would mitigate their loses from paying for tonight's motel room yet not using it. Aeryn covered John with Wilson's gun while he knelt and rifled through the agents pockets, making a small pile of the useful and a slightly larger pile of not so useful items.

"Should I kill him?" Aeryn asked in a matter of fact manner as John finished, stuffing items into their holdall. In her mind she would simply be eliminating a threat by doing so. Murder was not a concept that she had given much thought to as a Peacekeeper. But the last few monens had made her appreciate that other cultures had strong views on the subject. She really wasn't sure what might be appropriate in John's world.

"Nah," John demurred. "It would give them an even stronger reason to come after us. Besides, better for us if we know who's chasing us. Sort of Dr Kimble and Lt Gerard." Aeryn shook her head once, sharply and frowned to indicate that she had no idea what Crichton meant by his remark.

"The Fugitive?" He supplied for her, but her expression showed she was none the wiser. "Never really watched the series, but the movie was good. We should catch it some time while we're here…"

"Crichton!" Aeryn protested, frustration evident in her tone as she interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh, sorry… Yeah, we should just tie him up and gag him. That'll hopefully buy us time without us having to face a murder rap into the bargain."

Aeryn nodded. She had no idea what Crichton meant by half of that, but at least he seemed to have some sort of logic behind his words.

Ten minutes later they were pulling out of the motel car park, thankful that Wilson did indeed seem to be alone and that no one had raised the alarm in response to either the scuffle of the sound of John kicking the motel door open.

"What did you have in mind?" Aeryn asked.

"Huh?" John replied.

"For our next… move?" she struggled to find the right simile.

John puffed out a breath and shook his head. "Frelled if I know," he replied, not even realising he had used the Sebacean expletive rather than an English one. "But whatever, we'll be doing it together: You 'n me. Butch and Sundance."

He reached his hand across and snagged hers, squeezing it as he turned and flashed her a smile. Against all reason, Aeryn felt herself suddenly at ease. She was with Crichton, he was with her: For some reason that she could not understand, no: that she did not even want to try to understand, at that moment that they were together seemed to be all that mattered. They would work everything else out from there as they went along.

The end... of Chapter 1?