JOHN SAT IN SILENCE deep in a small office in SE3 and tried to relax. Chaos was reigning everywhere and he knew he'd have to step into the thick of it, but for now he needed an half-hour to himself, to collect himself and try and find some centre inside to gather his wits and breath.

Fate, as always, had other ideas.

"Commander Crichton," a voice cut through the room, "transmission coming in for you. It's from Officer Sun."

John sighed and activated the screen on the desk before him.

"Put her through."

Aeryn's face fuzzed onto the monitor. She was obviously in her Prowler. He could see the curve of the Earth through the cockpit behind her.

"Aeryn? Where are you?"

"In orbit, John."

"Right – you were going after…"

"I've sent the other Prowler pilots to Australia, to Woomera." She said abruptly.

"What? You were supposed to…!"

"It's something you should advocate for all the Peacekeepers – neutral ground. All of them in one place. Trust me, it will help in the long run."

"Well, they'd be easier to watch over. Use the UN as MP's as it were..."

"Whatever works. I'll leave the details to you." He frowned but gave it some thought. "Many will have contamination concerns."

Right, he thought. Jesus, I hadn't considered that. If we say we're putting them in quarantine for their own good, to lessen contamination…

"It's a good idea, Aeryn. It'll take one helluva lot of doing but it'd be worth pursuing, but I question your timing – what about…"

"Nothing worth having is ever easy. You've said that yourself."

"It's usually true." He smiled at her. "I still get my Golden Age, if I play it right."

"I'm glad for you." She looked away, stared into space. He could see she was struggling to say something and got a clammy precognition of what was coming. He hoped beyond hope it wasn't what he feared, yet he knew it was and he admitted to himself, he'd expected it. That was the only thing he could think of as to why he wasn't feeling it as deeply as he might, otherwise. Her discontent had been – and was – nothing new.

John squinted at her. Her manner was subdued, yet somehow charged.

"You're not going after him to stop him, are you?"

"No."

John felt his chest tighten.

When are you coming back?"

"I'm not." Flat and toneless.

"What are you saying?"

"I've given this a lot of thought, John. I …can't do this any longer... I can't spend the rest of my life wading through this morass. It's just not who or what I am. I don't know how to say this without hurting you, so I'm just going to say it." She looked down and took a deep breath. "I came here because it was what you wanted and I was happy for you. But I'm not happy for me and haven't been. I've tried, you know I've tried."

"I know," he managed. Even with his expectations, his insides were shaking.

"I'm so sorry to do it this way - it's so cowardly, but I can't be there because if I was there, I know you'd persuade me to stay and I can't." She looked him straight in the eye. "It will sound like an excuse… but I was born in space, I was born to fly. I can't live on the ground, on one planet. I can't do it your way. I don't know how else to say it."

John found himself in an oddly calm state of mind, even if the idea of her leaving him curdled his guts and brain. He knew he'd been so bent on saving Earth and being its hero and advancing his species that he'd bulldozed his way forward, dragging her along and not really stopping to consider how selfish that had actually been.

"It's not a life you want." He said finally.

"It's the life you want and I want you to have it."

"Just not with you?" The anger was understandable, it was hurt and selfish and he couldn't help it. He tried to bite it back. "It's not much of one without you, but… I can understand it. Of course I understand it. Honestly, I knew this was coming. Doesn't mean I like it."

"I don't like it either." Her face hardened and he knew she was doing her best to control herself. "The idea of staying here makes me …resent you. I don't like that thought and I don't want to do it."

"I haven't been at my best lately, have I?"

"No," she told him with no hesitation, "not remotely."

He ran his hands through his hair, his actions the last week tumbling through his brain, the things he'd wanted and actually planned. Finish them off, once and for all, not considering how destructive it would have actually been…

"I know that's not you, John. I can understand the pressure you've been under." Aeryn told him sympathetically. "I just need you to…"

"Understand the pressure you've been under," he finished for her, "I don't want you to go." He added emphatically.

"I know."

"But you can't," John rubbed his face, "and I can't ask you to stay."

He looked back at her. Silver trails of tears were streaking her face. The sight of them spiked directly through his chest, made him ache all over. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, what he said next but he had to ask, he had to know.

"Is it because of him?"

"Yes. And no." She answered after a moment and he knew it was the truth. "He was right. We led Scorpius here. We made this happen. This is our fault. It's… so hard to explain."

"You're not made for any of this." It hurt to say but it was also the truth. She was right. He'd been supremely selfish. "I've ruined your life."

"I kept coming back."

He could hear that she had no real regrets in that and that helped ease the ache a little. He took a deep, deep breath and expelled it in a gust. His mouth didn't want to speak but he forced it out anyway.

"I …need to let you go." He hung his head. "God… I just don't want to…" He looked back up, forced out, "Where are you going?"

"To Moya." Not to him, then, she could see him think, back home, not to another man's arms.

"He'll close the wormhole." John said and for once, Aeryn knew it wasn't about him this time. It was about the possibility of her perhaps returning one day.

"You have the knowledge," she told him, trying a smile, "you can reopen it. Or make a new one. You can do that. You have the means now."

"If I can make the world in my image," he said with a rueful smile of his own, "if I can just get them on my side."

"I'm on your side. I always have been. I always will be."

"I love you, Aeryn Sun."

"I love you, John Crichton. That's always been true and will be, no matter where I am."

Behind him, people were beginning to knock. At his elbow, the comms were flashing with many lights.

"They demand my attention," he told her, his insides still rolling, "I don't want it but I owe you for everything you've done. For everything I've done." He swallowed and finally managed the strength. It wasn't easy. It was still selfish, but damn him he wouldn't apologize for it.

"Go then."

"Nothing's forever, John." She hoped he'd take it as she meant it. It was about possibilities.

"I know. Go, Aeryn - before I change my mind and start begging."

There was a long pause between them.

"Just take care of yourself," he said at last, "this could be home, someday."

"Yes, it could. Someday."

"Goodbye, Aer-..."

"No, John," she interrupted sharply, "we don't say goodbyes."

John just nodded, that inexplicably warming him.

"Someday." He tried instead. She nodded.

"Someday." Another moment's hesitation and the screen went blank, leaving only his own face staring back.

Crichton contemplated it for a long while, then abruptly put his fist through it, through that face that had begun to fall into grief and yanked that fist out to pound it on the table until sharp and intense pain lanced up his arm and blood started spattering the office. The pain helped him focus.

Sacrifices had to be made, he'd told himself once. In a way, he knew that Aeryn would have left him one day, one way or another. Intellectually, he knew that life on Earth was not one she would ever adjust to, no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she tried – and she had tried.

"Set 'em free…" he muttered to himself, examining his now profusely bleeding hand.

For a good while he sat and let his hand bleed, watched the blood drops drip and spatter on the desktop surface until the pool was wide enough to once again see his own reflection.

Had he driven her away? Yes, to a certain extent. Life here had dulled her, blunted and oppressed her. The idea of that kind of Aeryn, made harsh by resentment, cold with boredom and bitter with inactivity made him shudder, the idea of her mentally pacing like a cage animal, turning into something not his Aeryn Sun.

"…if they come back…" he spat that, no longer believing it. He'd wondered how his counterpart had taken it and now he thought he knew, knew how hard it would be to be without her. He would change without her, as he had changed. But the Other had adapted, hadn't he? He'd survived. He'd been broken and darkened, but he'd reshaped himself into something new, something formidable. That's what Crichtons did best. They survived. Even if the end be bitter, they won.

He nodded sharply, once, to himself. Then he rose and went to the door and called for a medic. He looked back to the shattered monitor, the last place he'd seen her face. It didn't sit well. He felt as if he'd been busted open with his insides spilling out to smash apart on the floor and then put back jagged and cutting. He could only endure it as Crichton had endured it. He'd not believed it before but now they were brothers. They'd endured the same pain. They would walk from the wreckage new men and they would change everything. That's what they did. It was what he would do.

With or without her, he had a new world to build. Someday – and he planned on being there to see it, his people would go out and put the bastards in their places, once and for all, no matter what it took.

In the end, he'd win.

That smashed monitor now symbolized his old life, his old dreams. He had a new outlook now. He'd finally listened, finally learned his lessons.

"Goodbye, Aeryn."

It hurt, it would hurt for some time but she'd been wise. It had to be done.

He closed the door and held out his hand as the medic approached and as he tended him, John flagged down a passing lieutenant.

"Sir?"

"Find General Williams. Tell him that the first flight of Prowlers sent up have defected to Australia. Tell him to tell the remaining pilots on base that the man who destroyed their Carrier and marooned them here is currently in orbit in a Vigilante. Tell him to tell them that the destruction of this Vigilante would go a very long way to securing them special privileges and consideration on how well they'll spend their lives here." The lieutenant nodded, saluted and started off. "Oh," John halted her, "and tell them to leave the Leviathans alone but that Vigilante's gotta go." She nodded and continued away. John watched the medic wrap his hand.

Sacrifices had to be made, huh? All right then. He'd be damned if he'd be the only one making them.