Change of Heart (Part 2)
Author: Brenda, ScribLL@houston.rr.com
Part: 2/5
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aeryn must choose between her old life and Crichton. This is set about a month after 'A Bug's Life', Aeryn got better all on her own and Crais is still captain of his command carrier. I wrote the first draft in the long hiatus after ABL. Any similarities between this work and subsequent episodes were a frelling surprise to me.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Farscape. All characters, except the few I created, belong to Henson studios and the SciFi Channel.
With many, many thanks to Kat for her encouragement, advice, and for reeling me back in when I get over my head.
Decisions
Aeryn woke up many arns later to the soft hum that was Moya. The sight that first greeted her eyes startled her adding that to the discovery that she was still wearing her boots, let alone her clothes. Then she closed her eyes in remembrance. She knew better than to drink quanjon, but somehow Paulto always seemed to talk her into it.
She opened her eyes wide again. Paulto.
She sat up quickly, the rest of the memory at once crystal clear. She looked around the wreckage of her room and then at the dried blood on the back of her hands. She fell back on the bed and moaned. It hadn't been a dream.
"Would like to come back? Your commission restored? Rejoin your unit? The offer is genuine." His proposal echoed in her memory.
"No," she said aloud. She pushed it from her mind.
She got up and made her way to her private alcove, her boots making soft crunching noises in the broken rubble. She stripped off her clothes and boots and stepped into the shower. She stood there for a long time, letting the water run down over her face and hair and down over her hands, washing the traces of her blood away, but realizing that the memory of her meeting with Paulto would not wash away as easily.
It had been easy to imagine that nothing had changed, that she was still Officer Aeryn Sun of the Pleisar's Regiment, that she was still with her unit and Paulto, waiting for news of their promotion to the marauder commando unit. Easy to imagine that everything was just as it should be.
"Would you like to come back?"
Would she like to go back to the life that she had been bred and trained for? That had been all she knew? Back to the life she had once loved so well?
She turned off the water and stood there, dripping wet, mindless of the chill.
"Would you like to come back?"
The answer whispered to her, yessss.
"All you have to do is give us Crichton."
Yes, that was all she had to do.
Her cold detachment surprised her; it was as if she were making a list. Things to Do Today: Take a shower, clean your quarters, pick up supplies on the planet, turn Crighton over to the Peacekeepers. Just another day's work.
She was nearly dry when she at last stepped out of the shower bay. She searched and found some gauze in a medic kit and she carefully wrapped her hands. Her stomach growled reminding her that she hadn't eaten since early the previous day. She dressed and left the remains of her room.
John was eating alone in the center chamber when she arrived. She nearly turned around and left, but it seemed an act of cowardice to avoid him. She collected a few food cubes on a plate and a cup of water and sat down at the other end of the table, keeping her eyes on her plate. Several silent minutes passed as they ate. As she knew he would, John finally spoke, "Are your hands alright?"
She looked up at him for the first time, the concern written all over his face. Such an expressive face, she thought, not for the first time. "They'll be fine."
Several more moments passed. She could tell he wanted to say something more, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him; John was the last person she wanted to talk to. But he was persistent, if anything.
"Would you like some help cleaning up your quarters?"
Of course he knew. "No, I'll take care of it."
She was not going to give him another chance. Finishing her last food cube, she rose from the table, then strode towards the door, but a twinge of guilt made her hesitate as she neared the exit. Over her shoulder she said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" he asked, surprised.
"A—about yesterday." She left before he could say another word.
***
The prowler required a certain amount of routine maintenance—tech work, but without techs, she had only herself to rely on. She busied herself checking fuel and fluid levels, containment systems, critical relay circuits, and cleaning out the plasma jets. She also needed to check out the environmental controls. The cockpit had recently been getting a little too warm for her comfort. Grudgingly, she had had to admit sometime ago, that if she didn't actually enjoy it, she did derive a great deal of satisfaction from working on the prowler herself. Wouldn't Paulto be surprised to see her now?
She wondered if Paulto knew the dilemma that he had handed her. No, for him there could be no other choice she could possibly make. He had always been so sure of himself. And of her. But he didn't know John.
She owed John. He had saved her from the Peacekeepers, the Living Death, Namtar. He'd selflessly risked his own life for them all too many times, even when it made no sense to do so. He deserved her loyalty, if nothing else, but there was something else. Something that made her feel…vulnerable. Something she tried not to examine too closely.
And then there was the obvious physical attraction. Such physical needs had been easily met when she had been a Peacekeeper, but she knew somehow the rules had changed and she just wasn't ready for all the other complications that would arise from such a relationship. Perhaps that was why her closest encounters with John had occurred when she had thought that they were about to die. No complicated future to worry about there.
Of course, in the end, there would be no future with him anyway. He would figure out how to make a stable wormhole and he would go home. He came close once; it was just a matter of time. She'd been given a fine preview of what it would be like on his planet. She could never go back to his home with him, even if she wanted to.
Eventually the others would find their way home, too. She had no idea what she would do then. She had never been alone, always one of many. The idea secretly terrified her.
This could be her one chance for the only future she had ever imagined.
All she had to do was give them John.
Aeryn leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the prowler's hull and sighed.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Aeryn jumped at the sudden sound of John's voice behind her and she bumped her head hard on one of the prowler's fins. "Ugh! Frelling dren, Crichton! Don't sneak up on me!"
"Sorry, I didn't think I was that quiet."
She rubbed the bump on her head, angrier with herself than John. She tried to suppress her irritation. "What do you want?"
"I came to see if you were still having trouble with the environmentals...see if you needed any help with them."
She had forgotten that she had mentioned this problem to him a couple of days ago. Normally, she would have appreciated his help, but just now his presence would only exacerbate her guilty conscience. "I can handle it myself," she said attempting to dismiss him, but before she finished, he had pulled off the access panel to the environmental controls and was peering inside. She walked up beside him saying more insistently, "I said—I could handle it."
John was shaking his head and making little 'tsking' noises. "Lookie here. This relay is nearly fried. You're lucky it hasn't gone completely. There must be a power overload somewhere." He looked back up at her. "It'll go a lot faster if we trace it out together."
Frelling dren, she thought to herself, but he was right. She didn't know how long it might take to go through all the circuitry by herself. And if there were Peacekeepers anywhere in range, she needed to have the prowler in good working order as quickly as possible. She sighed resignedly. "Alright." They went to work.
It took the better part of an arn to trace out the problem and another two to repair it. Gratefully, John had kept the superfluous conversation he seemed to love so much to a minimum. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand, but her mind continually wandered back to John—not surprising really, with him hovering nearby.
If she turned him over to the Peacekeepers, what would happen to him? Paulto's story about First Command wanting him to lure Crais and his cruiser back to Peacekeeper territories was plausible. She had no illusions about what 'protective custody' meant; he would be locked up. After that, would they really let him go? She doubted that seriously. Even if they did, he would be stranded in Peacekeeper territories with no way back to Moya and Farscape One and his chances of ever finding his home would go from small to none. She would be back with her unit and would have no way to protect him. No, she had no illusions about what would happen to John if she turned him in.
When they were on the fake Earth, John had turned against his own kind for her sake. No matter that it had all been an illusion, at the time, John believed that it was real. He had not hesitated to forsake his future for her. How could she possibly betray such loyalty?
She valued loyalty; it had been instilled into her by the Peacekeepers, but in the end that loyalty had not been returned and they turned on her. Out of necessity her allegiance had changed to Moya and her crew. She had never believed that loyalty could be such a transient sentiment, but here she was, considering to change her allegiance again, simply because it suited her goals.
"Aeryn, are you here today?" John broke through her reverie.
"What?"
"That's the third time I called you. I finished connecting the power supply. Why don't you fire her up for a test?"
On the other hand, sometimes he could just be annoying. Maybe the Peacekeepers would take him away before he badgered her to death, she thought as she climbed into the cockpit. She turned on the main power supply and then switched the environmental controls on. Immediately there was a loud crackle from the access panel that John had been working at. He fell to the deck backwards and didn't move.
Icy fear cut through her. "John!" Aeryn cried as she leaped from the cockpit to the deck floor and rushed to his side. "John…John," she repeated his name. She shook him by the shoulders without any response. Fighting her rising panic, she leaned down to feel for a pulse at his neck.
At once arms grabbed her and pulled her down on top of him. She pushed herself back in surprise to see John laughing at her. "I just wanted to see if you were paying attention."
She turned away from him pulling her knees to her chest as relief and anger both fought for control. She was furious; he had manipulated her with this childish prank, and worse, she had let him. But at the same time she realized that she cared for him far more than she had been willing to admit. She had been terrified that he had been hurt, or worse, dead. Whatever made her think for even a moment that she could betray him?
"Aeryn? I'm sorry. It was a stupid joke."
His hand on her back was warm and against her will, calming. She had to remind herself she was angry with him. Spinning around, she launched herself at him, pushing him back to the floor. She pinned him beneath her, staring at him eye to eye.
He made no attempt to struggle, just stared back at her expectantly, willing to accept any punishment she offered. As quickly as it rose, her anger drained away, replaced by...something else.
She became aware of the sensation of warmth where she touched him and the small movement of his chest against her with each breath he took. Her own reflection in the dark pupils of his eyes drew her ever closer until she felt the warmth of his breath on her face. His nostrils flared minutely with each breath, his lips slightly parted. The desire to feel them against her own seemed natural and she leaned down until her lips momentarily brushed against his. They were soft and warm, inviting. She leaned down again, but this time he met her halfway. His arms went round her again, but this time they drew her to him gently and she relaxed against him. He buried one hand in the hair at the back of her head, holding her to him. His tongue parted her lips and she tasted faint traces of cantala tea. The swish of blood in her ears was so loud; he had to hear it too.
"I am sorry to interrupt, but something is happening in Command that you both should hear."
Aeryn and John parted abruptly at the sound of Zhaan's voice directly at their side. Aeryn was momentarily confused as if she had been instantly ripped from one place and dropped into another.
"I'm sorry, I tried to make some noise when I came in, but you were...preoccupied. Pilot notified me of an incoming transmission. He informed me that you were here making 'repairs'. I was nearby, so I just stopped in."
Aeryn stared blankly at Zhaan, but John mumbled nervously, "Well, we were—'aah'—," he looked back at Aeryn and shrugged, sighing.
Zhaan raised her hand, nodding her head. "No need to explain, John. I'll let you compose yourselves and meet you in Command in a few moments." She turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back to them smiling softly. "It was only a matter of time before you discovered the pleasure of each other's company. I'm very happy for you." This time she quickly walked out.
Aeryn rose to her feet and attempted to straighten her hair by combing it with her fingers, then gave up and tied it back, not that she cared that much about her hair, but it gave her an excuse to avoid looking at John. She was only mildly embarrassed that Zhaan had found them this way; she was more disturbed by her own behavior. Her instinct was to flee and Zhaan had been kind enough to give her a destination.
She made straight for the corridor, but could not avoid John's interception. He held her firmly by the arm.
"Aeryn, can we talk about what just happened here?"
She registered the disappointment on his face, but she didn't care. She looked coldly down at his hand on her arm. "You talk too much, Crichton."
He released her and she strode off to Command without looking back.
***
D'Argo and Rygel were already with Zhaan when Aeryn arrived in Command with John close behind. If Zhaan had shared what she had seen, the others gave no indication of it. The image of a rather thin anthropoid alien with bushy orange eyebrows that appeared to crawl across his forehead appeared on the forward screen. Rygel seemed to be concluding negotiations with the alien.
"…arrives in 20 arns. I'm sure he would be very interested in meeting your representatives soon after he arrives."
"Here they are now," said Rygel. He turned to Aeryn and John. "Step up to the transmitter so he can see you." They glanced at each other in curiosity, but complied with the request.
"They're perfect. Prator Delmar will never know the difference. Remember, Dominar, I expect my fee promptly, as soon as the negotiations are completed."
"We have final approval of the product," Rygel added.
"Of course, but you won't be disappointed. I am transmitting the coordinates of the meeting place to you now. Until tomorrow. End transmission."
Rygel was looking quite pleased with himself, but the D'Argo and Zhaan were also smiling. "What's this all about?" asked John.
"There is wonderful news, John," said Zhaan. "Rygel may have found a way for us to acquire zed level map fibers depicting a vast extent of the uncharted territories, however, it will require some subterfuge on your part."
"What are 'zed level' map fibers?" asked John.
Aeryn answered him. "'Zed level' is a Peacekeeper designation for a wide-grid preliminary survey."
"You mean, star charts—maps?"
"Yes," D'Argo said ominously. "It appears that Peacekeeper Command is preparing for a larger presence in the uncharted territories."
"Zed level surveys are by no means complete, but it much more than we have at the moment," added Zhaan. It was clear the prospect excited her.
"I'm curious as to how these people obtained the fibers," said Aeryn. " Peacekeepers would never sell or barter such valuable information."
Rygel floated closer to her. "Well, you'll get the opportunity to ask him yourself."
"If these fibers are so rare and valuable, what are we trading for them?" asked John.
Rygel smiled smugly. "Our supply of Glitany distillate"
John turned incredulous. "Someone's going to give these maps to us for six crates of a something that smells like it was squeezed from three day old sweat socks?"
"It's a favorite on the planet," said Rygel defensively.
"What's the catch?" asked John.
"And what did you mean by 'subterfuge'?" added Aeryn eyeing Zhaan suspiciously.
"The Glitany distillate is for our informant, Keegan," explained Rygel. "He is arranging the meeting with the current owner of the map fibers, Prator Delmar, a minor officiate on the neighboring planet. He wants to return them to the Peacekeepers in exchange for their 'support' in the next election."
"Peacekeeper help. There's an oxymoron," said John. "Is the man delusional?"
"Quite possibly," agreed Rygel. "So all you and Aeryn have to do is put on your Peacekeeper disguises, visit this Prator fellow, promise him the Peacekeepers' undying support, and solemnly accept his humble offering."
"I don't like it," said Aeryn. "The last time we tried this, it ended up a disaster."
John bristled at the implied accusation. "It would have worked if that intel-virus hadn't gotten loose. We can pull this off."
Aeryn began to pace as she grudgingly considered the scheme. It wasn't like they were trying to fool real Peacekeepers'this Prator Delmar probably would never know the difference. And they wouldn't be on Moya having to explain a Luxan, Delvian, and Hynerian on board. She hated to admit it but the idea had possibilities. And map fibers would be an invaluable tool, one they could hardly afford to pass up.
Still, this meeting was just a few arns before that ship from First Command was due. She silently cursed the weakness that had led her to meet with Paulto. Because of her, Paulto knew exactly where to find Moya. If he hadn't already told Crais about them, he would doubtless inform the ship from First Command. They should have already starburst out of this sector, but she didn't care to explain this to her shipmates, and especially not to John.
John held her arm to halt her pacing. "It'll be easy," he said persuasively. "We go down to the planet, do our James Bond and Mati Hari act and at any sign of trouble we blast the frell out of Dodge."
"I don't like waiting here this long. We found that last wanted beacon four days ago." D'Argo fingered the hilt of his Qualta blade, its ready presence reassuring. "Still, if we can obtain these fibers, it would be worth the risk of waiting another day."
If Aeryn shared the fact that she had already seen a Peacekeeper, D'Argo might not think it was worth the wait, but she kept that to herself. "Alright," said Aeryn. "But I agree with D'Argo. Moya should be ready to starburst out of here the moment John and I return, whether we have the fibers or not."
They would be cutting it very close, and that worried her. "Come on," she said to John over her shoulder as she headed towards the corridor. "We'd better finish the repairs on the prowler. We need to present ourselves in a Peacekeeper ship. Moya's transport will never do."
***
The remaining repairs took very little time to complete. Aeryn's coldness seemed to be thawing some. He was fairly used to her running hot and cold by now, although he wished the 'hot' spells weren't quite so brief. At this point, though, he would settle for warm and the conversation at least seemed to be heading that way.
"Who were Jamzbun and Matari?" Aeryn asked over the hull of the prowler. They were in the process of replacing the access panels.
John smiled into the panel he was working on, amused by her mispronunciation. "James Bond and Mata Hari. They were spies."
"Did they work together?"
John shook his head. "No. James Bond was a fictional character in a long series of movies." He had explained movies to her before. "He did heroic feats against impossible odds, saving the free world single-handedly and always got the girl."
"Oh, a male fantasy."
John smiled. "Yeah, I guess so."
"And Mata Hari?"
"She was real enough, although quite a bit before my time. She stole secrets for the bad guys though."
"So I take it, in your comparison, you are James Bond and I am Mata Hari."
"Yeah," John said as he finished securing his panel. He walked up behind Aeryn to see if she needed help with hers.
"So why am I the 'bad guy'?" she asked as she snapped the last panel into place.
He placed his hands against the prowler's hull on either side of her shoulders, yet barely touching her, speaking low and suggestively into her ear. "Because she was smart... and sexy... and men found her irresistible." He could almost feel the softness of her hair against his face.
She stood very still, not that he had given her much room to move in. "What happened to her?"
"She was—,"he stopped short realizing that this was not where he wanted the conversation to go. "I forgot."
She spun around to face him. "She was what?"
John lowered his arms and stepped back, shaking his head, the mood broken. "It was a bad choice, Aeryn."
"What happened to her?" she insisted.
He sighed and answered reluctantly, "She was executed for treason."
She just stood there and looked at him, her dark eyes intense for the longest moment, then she bolted out of the maintenance bay.
John leaned back against the prowler, slowly exhaling the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "You're right," he muttered to himself. "I talk way too much."
***
He'd come too close. She doubted that there was any way that John could have known about Paulto, his offer, and her shameful period of indecision, but his playful analogy had struck too close to home. John had an uncanny way of reaching inside her and exposing her most disquieting thoughts, thoughts she tried hard to bury deep within herself. She wondered if all Earth people were like this. If they were, she'd just as soon that they remain on their side of the universe.
She was tired—tired of thinking, tired of self-examination, tired of self-recrimination. Exercise was what she needed. Make the body as tired as the mind, until she couldn't think anymore. She headed for the cargo bay she used for that purpose.
Aeryn had set her up her exercise area soon after she joined Moya. She had found an assortment of Peacekeeper martial art and exercise equipment from all over the ship and collected it here, supplementing it once in a while from their many excursions to the various commerce planets. Dominating the room was the oversized mat emblazoned with the red, white, and black Peacekeeper insignia. Her makeshift gym was probably the only place on Moya that she truly felt at home.
She took off her boots and stepped barefoot onto the mat, its familiar feel cool and soothing. Assuming the beginning position for the first Kyde form, she tried to clear her mind and concentrate on her breathing. She began slowly, letting the movements gradually warm her muscles, then picked up the pace. Her breathing increased and as the first sheen of perspiration cooled her skin, she tried to force everything else from her mind intent on letting her muscles assume control of the familiar movements.
She moved from form to form easily. The Kyde forms, with their highly stylized kicks and punches, were basic to building coordination and strength for its sister Oo-kydu style of hand-to-hand combat. She had practiced the forms for as long as she could remember and she valued them not only for the workout they gave her, but for the euphoria created from the perfect focus of mind and body.
By the time she reached the tenth form, she knew that euphoric state would elude her today. Her body knew the movements precisely, yet she struggled continuously to maintain her focus. Flashes of memories nearly forgotten disrupted her concentration.
She had practiced the forms with Paulto more times that she could count. She hadn't thought of him for such a long time, and now she could not seem to remove him from her mind. She imagined him beside her, his movements perfectly synchronized to hers. The tenth form was his favorite. There was a difficult double kick that required perfect balance and timing, and when performed correctly, gave the appearance of defying gravity. He performed the maneuver flawlessly every time and his proud delight had been infectious.
She knew before she even began the second kick in the double that her timing was way off. With both feet in the air, she fell awkwardly on her side to the padded floor. She rolled onto her back and stayed there, breathing heavily. She hadn't fallen in that exercise since she was 12 cycles old, but that wasn't what disturbed her. Her memories of Paulto were innocent enough. Why did she feel so...guilty?
Her enthusiasm for this exercise session evaporated along with her perspiration. She put her boots back on, wrapped a towel around her shoulders and went back to her quarters. There she found Chiana sifting through the rubble on the floor.
"What are you doing in here?" asked Aeryn sharply. She was in no mood for any dren from Chiana.
Chiana stood up slowly twisting her head to look at Aeryn. "Ahh, don't go gettin' your shivvies in a twist."
Her eyes followed Aeryn's to the piece of rubble she held in her hand. She immediately tossed it to the side. "I don't steal from shipmates. Besides, "she added, a sly smile playing at her lips, "there's nothing here worth snurchin'. I was just...admiring the mess. I didn't think you had it in you."
"I'm so glad you like it," Aeryn said, flatly. "You can leave now."
Chiana, ignored Aeryn's request and began to leisurely wander around the room as she talked, picking up pieces of the rubble here and there, setting things right occasionally, more often just tossing them aside again, but always keeping at least one eye on Aeryn. "I was just thinking, what—or more likely who—could have caused you to go all zerker on us? Mother?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. Let's see," she began to tick them off her fingers, "Pilot lives to serve... not him. D'Arrr-go? Um, no. You two have some warrior-buddy thing going on. Rygel? Uh-uh...you would have just squashed the little toad. And I 'know' it's not 'me.'
"So who does that leave? Oh, yes," she said looking back at Aeryn over her shoulder, "Crichton." She grinned, pleased with herself. "Not that I blame you—he's quite the...dish," she added licking her lips.
"Well, then," said Aeryn stiffly, "don't let me stop you. Be my guest."
"Don't think I haven't thought about it. But it's not 'me' he wants."
"I think you'd better leave now, Chiana," Aeryn said more insistently.
Chiana knew better than to push her much farther, but she couldn't resist one parting remark. "It does get very lonely out here sometimes though, doesn't it?" Not expecting an answer, she left, her distant laughter echoing though the corridor.
Irritated, Aeryn turned and stumbled into her quarters, tripping over a misplaced boot. She cursed under her breath and retrieved a waste receptacle from the corner of the room. She needed to clean up her mess and this was as good a time as any.
She worked steadily, beginning at the door and making slow progress across the room sorting the irreparably damaged from the redeemable. As the broken possessions accumulated in the waste bin she wondered how she had accumulated so many things since she came to Moya. As a soldier all her worldly possessions would fit in one bag and she had left them all behind on Crais's carrier when she fled his death sentence. A soldier needed to travel light. Perhaps it had been time to discard the excess baggage from her life anyway.
She picked up a small box that was overturned on the floor next to her bed. As she lifted it, the damaged lid fell open and two shiny fragments caught her eye as they tumbled to the floor. She bent down to retrieve them holding her breath, hoping she was mistaken, and exhaled with a low moan when she recognized the pieces she held in her hands. She sat heavily on the bed, remembering vividly the first time she had seen it. John had just returned from a trading venture on some commerce planet and had found her in Command. He pushed the thing into her hand saying, "Here, I thought you might like this. It reminded me of you."
She turned the object in her hand. It was oddly cold to the touch with an iridescent metallic sheen although, on closer examination, she could see it was made of ceramic. Fixed on the back was a fastener of some sort. "What is it?"
His eyes went wide for a moment and then narrowed again as he gently smiled. "It's for your hair."
"My hair?" she had said too sternly. She turned it over in her hand again. It did possess a kind of cold beauty, but she was not going to go around wearing some frivolous ornamentation in her hair. She handed it back to him. "I hope you didn't trade much for it. Perhaps they'll take it back."
His smile disappeared as his eyes went wide again, and then hardened with a look of determination. He placed the hair clasp back in the palm of her hand, then curled her fingers around it. "I can see you need lessons in how to accept a gift."
"It is not customary among Peacekeepers to give 'gifts'," she said coldly, "Especially not of a such superficial and non-utilitarian nature."
"Oh, but it is utilitarian." He took the object back and moved around behind her. When she began to turn around to face him, he held her shoulders, commanding her to hold still. She started just for a moment when he first touched her face, but then eased slightly as he drew his fingers lightly along her jaw, up to her ears, and then through her hair, pulling it back. She tried to offer some resistance as he gently tugged and pulled at her hair, but the sensation was extraordinarily relaxing. She closed her eyes.
She opened them again abruptly when he said, "There," and stood back to examine his handiwork. "See? Utilitarian."
She tried to cover up her discomposure by reaching up and feeling the clasp at the back of her head. It did indeed hold her hair securely. She cleared her throat nervously and agreed, "Yes." She began to walk away.
"Wait." He reached out and caught her hand. "Aren't you forgetting something?" He looked at her expectantly.
She looked around her person and could see nothing amiss. "I don't think so."
He laughed. "You really do need lessons, don't you?"
"What?" she said sharply.
"On Earth, we have a little ritual when someone gives a gift." He pulled her closer. "The person that gets the gift usually says something like 'I like it very much' or 'that was very thoughtful of you' and then says 'thank-you'."
Her first inclination was to dismiss his request as just more human nonsense, but she suppressed her irritation. It really was a small thing he asked. She considered a moment before saying, "It will be very useful. Thank-you."
He rewarded her with a smile that unaccountably warmed her to the core. "You're welcome," he said, and he released her hand. This time he didn't stop her when she moved away.
She wore it the rest of the day. Whenever their paths crossed, he noticed, and she could tell—it pleased him, and for some reason she didn't quite understand, that pleased her as well.
As she prepared for sleep that evening, she removed it from her hair. She held it up and examined it again. Purple and pink highlights danced across the surface as she rotated it in the light. He had said, it reminded him of her. It was beautiful.
She put it away that evening and she never worn it again. If he noticed, if he questioned why, he never said.
And now here it was, cracked in two and chipped around the edges. The broken pieces filled her with regret.
She had made a practice of holding him at arm's length. He held such power over her emotions. Her mastery over them sustained her illusions of power and control, when in reality there was little else in her life that she had ever had control of. What did she think she was trying to prove? And to whom?
She looked at the shards in her hand again. The pieces still shimmered pleasingly, but they would never adorn her hair again, an opportunity lost
As with her exercise session, whatever interest or enthusiasm she had had in cleaning up her quarters was gone. She sat on the edge of her bed, clenching the pieces of the hair clasp tightly in her hands. Chiana's parting words came back to her, "...sometimes it gets lonely out here."
She was afraid of being left behind, afraid of being alone, but, at least for the present, she wasn't alone. Perhaps it was time to stop pretending that she was. She dropped the broken pieces into the waste bin.
***
John spent most of his brief turn in Command wondering when Aeryn would ever speak to him again so he could apologize. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought for about the thousandth time. Orbiting the planet offered little diversion from self-disparagement and he was grateful when D'Argo finally relieved him.
He stopped briefly for something to eat and then made a half-hearted attempt to look for Aeryn hoping she'd have had time to cool off. After checking the prowler and her gym, he tried her quarters. She wasn't there, but she had been. The room was noticeably neater although she still had a ways to go. Stopping by his own quarters, he was surprised to find Aeryn sitting on his bed in the dark.
She looked at him, but said nothing. Her eyes followed him as he walked over and sat down next to her, searching for the right words to begin. "You know, that whole thing about Mata Hari, I...I didn't mean to imply—"
"I know," she cut him off.
He relaxed just a little, but he sensed that there was something more to this, so he waited.
She gazed off into the distance. "When you look at the Peacekeepers, you see the military machine, the abuse of power." She paused for a moment, then continued. "I am because of the Peacekeepers. They made me in their image. It is the only family I've ever known. Some of them I care a great deal about."
"They kicked you out of the club."
She shook her head. "Crais did."
John found her hand and held it, playing with her fingers. "Do you think you're a traitor?"
She was silent for a long while before she turned to look at him. "No."
"Then that's really the only thing that counts."
She considered that for a moment. "Did this Mata Hari consider herself a traitor?"
Wishing for the thousandth time that he had never brought this up, he said, "I really don't know Aeryn. I guess so—she was paid for spying."
Aeryn's eyes widened. "You didn't tell me that part."
"I wish to God I had never brought her up at all."
Her eyes softened and a smile began to play at the corners of her mouth. "I told you, you talk to much."
Feeling at least a little forgiven, he returned the smile. "I thought that was part of my charm." Aeryn raised her eyebrows. "But I guess not. Well, is there anything you do find 'charming' about me?"
"Right now? That your quarters are," she drew her fingers along the bedside table inspecting the dust, "—relatively clean. I hoped you might let me stay here tonight."
John's heart skipped a beat, but he was unsure whether she was actually implying anything or not. "There are spare quarters," he suggested.
"You want me to leave?"
He shook his head, "No."
He picked up her hand again, turning it over. "You took off the bandages." It was more of an observation than a question. He examined the scabs and bruises on the back of her hand, then raised it to his lips. He looked up to see her watching him intently. "Earth medicine...it's supposed to make it feel better."
"I think it's working," she said to him, with a slight smile.
He tilted his head in surprise. The rules of the game were he flirted and she put him down. Of course, there was that moment in the maintenance bay earlier, but then she practically ran away. She was so...confusing. "Aeryn, what's going on?"
"I'm trying to seduce you," she said quite matter-of-factly.
He blinked twice dumb-founded and then began to laugh at her joke, but she wasn't laughing, too. Instead she looked…hurt. She got up to leave.
"Whoa, whoa," he said as he caught her by the hand. "Come back here." She sat back down next to him, but wouldn't look at him. "What's this all about? Maybe we should talk about it."
"I'I don't know how humans do it," she said apologetically, keeping her eyes on her lap.
"Well, maybe we shouldn't worry about how humans…do it, or Sebaceans for that matter. Maybe we should just worry about how 'we' do it." He ducked his head down in her line of sight, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Whadaya think?" She smiled at him uncertainly.
Now that he had her attention, he wasn't sure where to begin. "Well, this morning we got pretty…close, but it seemed to upset you. Why the big change?"
"I'm...lonely."
He shook his head. "Not good enough."
She sighed deeply and when she began again she spoke slowly as if she were carefully selecting each word. "I've felt an attraction for you for some time now. I always thought that to act on that attraction would just make things too complicated on Moya, but I've reconsidered and now I'm willing to take that risk."
Would wonders never cease? Aeryn Sun was practically admitting that she was in love with him, or as close as she could come. He smiled at her in approval and leaned closer to her, running the backs of his fingertips along her arm. "Well, things are bound to get complicated. I just didn't want you to think that I was 'easy'."
"John, absolutely nothing about you is easy," she said with conviction, then added more softly, "You know, I'm not given to all this introspective dren." She, too, leaned closer, turning to face him.
"No," he stiffened momentarily as her hand touched his thigh. "You're more a 'frontal assault, take-no-prisoners' kinda gal." She was close enough he could feel her moist breath on his face. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
"Then you understand me well." She leaned forward just ever so slightly more and their mouths connected. She kissed him hard, nothing shy or hesitant about it, full of promise. Maybe things would get complicated, but he, too, was more than willing to take that risk.
***