Chapter 9
Aeryn hadn't meant to hurt him, she hadn't wanted to. She thinks back to the look in that doctor's eyes, hideous pity, and the condescending tone of voice as she told them, just like that, that the baby had no heart beat. It wasn't true, Aeryn knew that, knew it deep inside. Therefore, the doctor was lying for some reason. That thought did grip her with horror, because she had trusted that doctor, when she was at her lowest point in her life, emotionally, physically, she had looked to that woman for help and advice and treatment. And if that Dr would lie about such a thing, what kind of a person did that make her? What kind of so called 'treatments' had she been administering? And why? It's not that Aeryn sees no reason why someone would want to tell her the baby is dead and take it from her. Plenty of these humans might be interested in a half human half alien baby, there were too many reasons why someone would be out to take her baby away, it even crossed her mind Crichton had something to do with it, though she hates herself for thinking it. Maybe Crichton didn't want to be chained to her for life, to a baby that was at best 'unplanned' and at worst a 'mistake'. It was only fleeting though, the thought he was involved, because once she turned to look in his eyes, she knew it was not possible, and hated herself for going to that place in her mind.
That look in Crichton's eyes, Aeryn saw it instantly, his anguish, disappointment, horror. Crichton believed that Doctor, just took her word. Simple as that. And she wanted so badly to scream at him to WAKE UP. That Dr doesn't know what she is talking about. But Aeryn could see already, Crichton would not believe her. Especially not when she had been the one to insist that something was wrong, that she hadn't felt the baby move for hours, she was the one who insisted the doctor check and make sure the baby was ok. So of course, Crichton believed the worst. And in her fear she made a bad decision, but once it was made there was no going back. And so she had asked the Dr for a few moments alone with him. She knew she had only minutes. And suddenly, all the things she had been keeping in, all the things she wanted to yell and scream at him, the things she wanted to argue about with him but had held her tongue for the sake of the baby, everything she had kept hidden from him, she needed all of it now to mister the ferocity required for a nice little pantak jab. Her only real advantage was that he hadn't seen it coming, because she wouldn't have had the strength to take him on in a physical fight if he actually realised he was in the middle of one. Not when he had tears in his eyes, not when he looked to broken, so sad...but damn him, why was it so easy for him to give up on their baby? How could he just believe something like that, so completely? This baby was stronger than he gave credit for, Aeryn was stronger, she was damn well going to give him a healthy baby whether he wanted it or not, and no matter if it cost her own life. And she could not take the chance that John, or that doctor, or anyone, would think she was insane, would drug her or physically restrain her, and tear that baby from inside of her. No way in hell was anyone taking this baby from her. Her baby.
Aeryn would not give up. Even though she hadn't felt the baby move for hours, even though she was the one to tell the Crichton and that doctor that something felt wrong. She simply would not accept that reality, and refused to stay in that place another minute listening to lies, or to Crichton and his constant complaining about her risking her own life. If she wasn't prepared to fight and die for her child, what business did she have being a mother? What else did she have to offer this kid? Face it, Crichton was the better parent, hands down. If her only part in it was to give birth and die, then so be it. Even if its not what he wanted...and why was he determined to save her life, after all he had said and done, it cant really be because he loved her? She longed to believe he still loved her, the nights he lay beside her, promising her he would never leave her and never let her down again. But it was so easy for him to give up on their baby. Maybe he just didn't want a baby. Maybe he didn't want HER baby. Maybe if she died, he would love the baby more. She knows she isn't thinking clearly, but she can not stop her mind twisting and turning in circles.
She never had a mother, not in the true sense of the word, nor a father. She doesn't know the first thing about being a loving nurturing mother, she never envisioned herself in a loving relationship, wanting and expecting to raise a child. She is the first to admit that she is out of her depth. And there is such a large part of her that is deeply afraid, that wanted so badly to lean on Crichton. He was the one who knew about these things. He had a mother whom he loved, who raised him. She has been counting on him so badly to know what to do. And as much as she hates to admit this to herself, she needs him, badly. She wants him. She doesn't want to do this alone. She had always been independent, and brave, showing strength in any situation. She faced impending death, time and time again, without flinching. But this strikes a fear in her that she had never known, never experienced. A fear of being alone, being without him. But she can not let that take over. She can't let any one distract her from her goal, her mission. That's how she has to think of it, that's how it makes sense to her. It is her mission, her sole mission, to keep this child safe, and alive. As with any mission, from her peacekeeper past, she doesn't stop to ask questions , how or why, the mission is the mission. And she will complete it, or die trying. That is the peacekeeper way.
And after all she was a peace keeper, much as she tried to change, to please him. Much as he tried to change her, to tell her she can be better, that she should want to be better, truth is she was and is a peacekeeper. She can accept that, without any ill feeling. But when she thinks about her child, she wants something more for her child. She never understood what "more" or "better" she could or would be. But she understand now, that she wants something more for her child. She doesn't know what it is exactly. It's something about John, she wants something like the life he had, for her child. Not entirely. She doesn't dismiss all of her heritage. She wants her child to be brave and strong and fearless. But she wants compassion too, companionship. Some sort of..humanity. And she knows she can't provide that. Not by herself.
She had no money, she had nowhere to go, she knew no one and nothing of this unfamiliar planet, and she had never felt more lost, more alone, than those three long excruciating days. In the beginning she worried only about hiding, staying hidden from Crichton, that Dr, or anyone who tried to tell her that her baby was dead, anyone who tried to take her baby from her. As the hours turned to days, practical concerns arose, food, shelter from the cold. She stole what she could to eat, deciding it was better to go hungry than to be seen, recognised, caught. She tried to make her way as far as she could from Crichton, that hospital, that Dr, anyone who might know or recognise her. If he really wanted to he could splash her picture all over the news, just as it had been from the day they arrived, and any person she ran into could potentially recognise her. This wouldn't change the further she ran from that physical spot, and staying hidden again trumped the need for distance between her and Crichton. She slept on street corners, though she couldn't swear she had slept. It wasn't that she was not capable of finding somewhere nicer to stay, just that she was so afraid of what would happen if anyone found her, afraid that no one would believe her. That they would take her baby from her, rip it from her body and tell her it was dead, and Crichton would let them. She could not forgive him that.
It was almost two whole days before she felt the baby kick inside of her. Two days of walking the freezing cold streets, hiding among the many lost homeless people, steeling food where she could, going hungry when she could not. She told herself the baby was fine inside of her, nice and warm and cosy and sucking away all the nutrients from her body, she could tell this by the dizziness that came upon her after she had not eaten for long periods. Two days of frantically convincing herself she was right and everyone else was wrong, two days refusing to even consider any other possibility, because she was the only one, the single solitary one, fighting for her child, or so it felt to her. She knows she has no right to claim that, not when she hadn't given Crichton a chance. She simply did not believe in him, not enough to chance it. Simple as that. She was safer, the baby was safer, away from Crichton.
Tears streamed down her face as she placed her hands over her belly and waited, an agonisingly long time, to feel the baby kick again. She realised, only then, in that moment when she first felt the baby move again inside of her, that she hadn't been certain at all that the baby wasn't dead. That she simply had not wanted to believe it. And a nauseating wave of fear washed over her- what would have happened if she hadn't run, if she had given in to that Dr, to Crichton, and let everyone tell her that her baby was dead.
She still isn't sure she will be believed, by that Dr, or Crichton, or anyone on this planet. She is foreign to them, a potential threat, an enemy to some even. And she doesn't know how to ensure her baby will be safe, not until it is born. So she decides, in that moment of fear and relief, that she will wait until the baby is born before she resurfaces. And if she dies in the mean time...so be it. She knows, just knows here baby will survive. Against all odds, she knows it. Once she feels the baby kick inside her it is all that she needs to believe, somehow, in a happy ending, for her baby if not for her, of not for John.
It is not until the third day, as she starts to feel aches and pains, an uncomfortable pressure, as the baby noticeability drops in position. She knows little about sebacean labor and delivery, let alone human birth, but she knows that the child's arrival is imminent. As she feels mounting pressure inside her, a new kind of fear grips her heart at the reality of impending birth hits her smack in the face. She is afraid, not as afraid as she was when that doctor told her the baby was dead, not as afraid as she was of Crichton finding her and trying to tell her the baby was gone, but still very afraid. And alone. More alone that ever. Until now she had felt some kind of companionship from the baby. When it was something inside her, something under her control. The thought of an independent being, of her being responsible for this entirely dependant infant, that scares her. That makes her feel alone, and inadequate.
She feels more than that, feelings rush over her, feeling she knows no name for, that she has no frame of reference for. The last few days she had been making her decision based on her feelings, and it sat uncomfortably. But she had never felt this intensely, ever. She doesn't know if it's the baby, or John, or the treatments from that Dr. She just knows that she needs to get it together. She is a mess. And there is about to be someone who is counting on her, and only her. She feels adrift. Lost in a darkness. She longs to reach out to someone, to put the responsibility on to someone else. For the first time in her life she wants to hand over control.
She knows anyone she contacts will run straight to Crichton, and what would happen if the baby stopped moving again, if that Dr had done something with a delayed reaction ? What would happen then? She would be back where she started, no one would believe her. Only this time, Crichton would not let her get away. If she lets herself get caught now, there will be no escape, and she has to be sure. Sure that she will be believed. Sure they wont take the baby from her believing or even pretending that it's not alive.
She knows no one here on this planet, no one except them, her fellow crew mates on Moya, and she is certain any move she makes towards one of them will lead her straight to Crichton. And part of her starts to want that, part of her wants him to take her in his arms, and tell her it will all be fine, take her home, to Moya, and then she wouldn't have to worry about anything, not even giving birth, she wouldn't be afraid, because he would be there, and thats all she needed, him to believe in her that she could do this, and believe in their child that their child was strong enough to survive. But, she can not risk it. She knows she is the one putting the distance between them. She tries to imagine what is going through his mind, but it hurts her too much, there just isn't room for it. She isn't sure she is thinking clearly. She isn't sure she is thinking at all, she is only feeling. But it's instinctive, and she can not turn from her fears.
She tells herself that it makes sense to stay near-ish to Crichton, because if something did happen to her during the birth, she would need him, or someone, to find the baby, and care for it. Maybe she would leave him a note, telling him all the things she wanted to say, that she was so sorry, for everything, she had no means to communicate this to him, and the thought of dying suddenly filled her with dread, what about all the things she wanted her child to know? She simply must not die, not quite yet. But part of her was convinced she would. That her life was the price she had to pay for this baby to live. She was not worthy of being a mother, not worthy of being Crichton's wife, but that did not mean the baby did not deserve to live.
She had a knife, she had stolen from an old man sleeping on the streets, but little else in the way of weapons. Not that she wanted to hurt anyone, she merely wanted some kind of control, insurance. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, which were ill fitting as she hastily grabbed what she could from the hospital, including a shirt of Crichton's, which smelled so much like him. Somehow wearing it made her feel close to him, at nights she would find a place to sit in the streets, and she would close her eyes and breathe in the scent of him. She wanted her baby to know that smell, to know who its father was. The rest of what she had was made up of bits on pieces she had stolen, or had been given to her, by the kindly impoverished people on the streets. She made a mental note to do something nice for those people to thank them for their kindness. It gave her a whole new meaning of the word homeless, and made her all the more homesick for Moya, but one thing about sleeping outside, she could see the stars, and looking up there, remembering where she had come from, where she would go back to, seemed to bring her comfort.
By the end of the third day, she could stand it no more, the isolation, the fear. She had experienced pains throughout the day, which she did not know if this meant something was wrong, or if it might be a sign the baby was coming. She knew nothing about giving birth. She had no need to know, and everything happened so fast. The fact is, very possibly no one around her knew a thing about Sebacean birth, and in that sense she was on her own and very possibly may die. But the planet was surely full of people who had given birth to human offspring. It's just, she could not very well approach some stranger on the street, lest they recognise her as an "alien". Every person on this planet was a potential enemy, a potential danger to her child, even Crichton. Alone was the only way she could do this, but as the hours went on, as the pains became more intense and closer together, panic began rising in her, a kind of irrational panic that drove away all else inside of her.
She found, as she instinctively made her way back to familiar territory, that she hadn't gone nearly as far away from Crichton as she might have thought. Nor was she able to move particularly fast. Perhaps she hadn't wanted really to go far, only to stay hidden until it was safe. She still isn't certain she can trust him, but she is very certain that she can not breathe properly, that something is wrong with her, with the baby, that she has to take a chance to ask someone. She can not deal with this alone anymore, she can not shoulder the weight of this child's life. What if she did something wrong? What if she died on the street and no one found the baby? There were very few times in her life she had been afraid, she had longed for comfort from someone else, very very few, but this was one of them. All she wanted was him to take her in his arms, to tell her he will take care of her of the baby, that everything will be ok. But she can not bring herself to trust him, to reach out. He was no doubt angry with her for hitting him, leaving, and he would think she was delusional. Maybe she was...what if she tried to convince him, what if she took his hand and let him feel the baby move and he still didn't believe her, what if he took her back there, locked her up, let them take her baby away, she couldn't risk that, but she needs someone, anyone, to take this weight off her shoulders.
She has next to no choices, ruling out immediately anyone on Moya, anyone at the hospital, she is left with few options. She finds herself at Crichton's family home, the place she had come that night to tell him the "good news" about the baby. It isn't hard to hide in the surrounding yard, and she thinks perhaps she has caught a lucky break, in that he was not expecting her to come here. She watches for some time, through the windows, until she is certain that Olivia is alone in the house. One person will be easier to run from if it comes down to it. She is a soldier, pregnant or not, and she has a knife, and much as she liked Olivia, if she had to get away she wouldn't hesitate to threaten her or even to use it.
It is true, she has no options. But she feels Olivia is the safest one. Maybe because she is a woman, maybe she will believe more readily than Crichton that the baby is alive. Olivia was related to this baby too, it was her niece or nephew. That might also be an advantage. There is nothing but shattered trust between Aeryn and John, but still Olivia had extended her hand of friendship and welcomed Aeryn into the family. All his family had. All but for him.
Approaching Olivia is a risk, but Aeryn is afraid enough to take it, to reach out one last time and trust someone, ask someone to help her, help her baby. And if the worst happens, and if it doesn't work out, well its just one girl, and Aeryn has a knife. Finally, weighing the pros and cons, Aeryn emerges from her hiding place, careful no one is around, and sneaks around the back of the house, letting herself into the house through the unlocked back door.
