Farscape: Three is Not a Scary Number
Disclaimer: Farscape and all of its characters, locations, etc. belong to their respective owners; I'm just borrowing. No copyright infringement intended!
Author's Note: Behold! The first thing that I've written in 2013. It's funny, this is the sort of fic I normally hate – the "we got married and had three kids and lived happily ever after" sort of thing – but I'm actually quite proud of this one. Hope you enjoy! :D
ovo
"Three is not such a scary number," I'd said. And now there are three. D'Argo, Zhaan, and Jool Sun-Crichton. My gorgeous children. They've lived up to their names so far, and make us proud to be their parents. Even if labor was worse than Scarran torture and none of them have yet mastered the concept of a full night's sleep – even D'Argo, who is nearly thirteen! John and I sometimes laugh about it through exhausted tears. "They're only kids," he promises. "When their bones get old like ours, they'll slow down."
We certainly have slowed down compared to when we met. I would never have pictured it, way back before John, but we've become quite domestic somewhere in between D'Argo and little Jool. That thought still makes me laugh, imagining myself in full Peacekeeper regalia and trying to tend a family like I am now. What would Officer Aeryn Sun have had to say if she'd seen that?
John asks me what's so funny. He catches me smiling all the time, and I think he likes it; but he and I both play the old joke of the stoic Peacekeeper. "What's the matter with your face?" he asks, tapping my cheek playfully. "I think your mouth is broken or something; it's all crooked and curved."
Some days, I lose the grin and become serious, and I stay that way until he can provoke me to laughter. Other times, I let the smile stay. "Yes, I think it is broken," I say seductively. "Do you think you can kiss it better?" He never can quite kiss a grin off my face, but he sure does try. Sometimes it lasts until one of the children – usually Jool, who hasn't yet learned that closed doors mean privacy – interrupts, and we really do have to 'keep the peace', or be drawn into some fantastic game that D'Argo has invented for his sisters. He really is brilliant, my son. All of my children are.
No, three is not such a scary number anymore.
It's rather perfect, actually.
fin.
Note: I am a sucker when it comes to remembering characters who have been lost; and I figured since baby number one was in honor of D'Argo, two and three could honor Zhaan and Jool (who are about 10 and 4, in my mind). Okay, so it's a little sappy; but it was fun to write. Here's to a fantastic new year!