John careened his way into medical wearing as much of the slime as not. It coated nearly every length of floor that he had encountered in Moya, and though it could be navigated with a slow gate and careful steps, with Aeryn requesting assistance in medical neither were on John Crichton's plan of action. He slid into the cluttered bay like a surf boarder finding shore and used a cargo container as a brake.

Aeryn sat with her back to the door, her arms braced behind her. She didn't so much as twitch at the sounds of his obvious entrance.

"Uh, Aeryn?" Her braid bobbed as she lifted her chin just a bit.

"Crichton."

"You ok?" He inched towards her, using tables and equipment as support.

"I will be. You don't need to be here." Her voice was cold. It wasn't a friend putting another's fears to rest, it was a woman verbally swatting a fly.

"I, uh," he couldn't find words that wouldn't somehow cross the line. How do you tell someone you were worried without sounding like you care.

She sighed. "John, take your own advice and give me some space. Really, it'll be better for the both of us."

He rounded the table and saw her face. A deep gash over her right eye, blood oozing from a wound in her chin. He thought he could see the flecks of white of her jaw bone through the blood. He desperatelywanted to reach out and touch her, wipe away the blood and bandage her himself. His hand must have moved of its own volition because for the first time since she'd come aboard he saw her flinch.

"Don't, John. Just, don't." Her eyes pooled as she focused on a point just over his shoulder.

Oh God, he thought, don't make her cry. Don't let her cry, she'll never forgive you for it.

"Right. I, uh, I'll go see about lighting a fire under Jool." He turned away from her and slowly and carefully made his way out of medical, not so much concerned with the slick floor but with giving himself enough to time to choke back his own tears.

He watched Jool's careful ministrations from the doorway as she cleaned and bandaged Aeryn's wounds. He winced at each bloody piece of cloth she threw aside. You masochistic son of a bitch, he thought to himself, can't you find another way to torture yourself? Go do something useful. Go lobotomize yourself with one of Moya's neural filaments. Take up speed skating, just get the hell out of Dodge right now. He noticed Jool look over Aeryn's head and cock her head at him.

She'd been unusually kind to him since his near death experience, and he knew she meant well, even when she didn't have the right words to say. He could give her an "A" for effort, which was more than he could give himself right now.

"So," she said, her voice taking on a falsely casual tone, "what exactly did you do?"

"What do you mean what did I do? I fell down, you dumb trelk." Aeryn jerked her head as Jool applied more pressure to the wound above her eye than was strictly necessary. John stood a little straighter and shook his head at her.

"I was just wondering how you fell down. I thought perhaps you got some sort of Peacekeeper jolly over using your face as a door stopper." Jool threw another bloody cloth aside and reached for an anesthetic patch.

"I don't need that." Aeryn jerked her head away as Jool tried to apply it.

"Yes, you do. I don't care how much you might actually enjoy pain, Officer Sun, but the wound on your chin goes down to the bone and will require layers of sutures. If you start making noise, it will only break my concentration and I wouldn't want to mar that lovely Sebacean skin of yours with a misplaced stitch."

John watched Aeryn's back, tense in the shoulders, her spin coiled like an animal about to spring. She relaxed and released Jool's hand. Her braid bobbed as she nodded consent and lifted her chin.

"John was right about one thing," Aeryn said, "it's a long slide to the facilities at the end of a sleep cycle."

"And too short a distance between your face and the floor?"

"My face and the shelf. Remind me to have Pilot put a DRD on shaving down those shelf corners." Jool showed no outward sign of caring particularly, but tilted her head to look at John again.

John nodded and mouthed a thank you. He didn't know why it was so important to him to know what had happened. It's not everyday you see the woman you love bruised and bleeding and you're not even allowed to touch her. He turned his back when Jool unwound a length of suture line and gave him a look that said, "do you really want to watch this?"

Pilot looked, well, confused. Confused and irritated. John was used to the irritated. He was a little concerned about the confused, though. John stood at the far side of the cat walk, not wanting to attempt the short walk to Pilot's console when he could see the shiny, luminescent strings of whatever noxious substance had taken over their living environment hanging from the narrow ledge and dripping into the dark below.

"So, uh, Pilot," he called, "what seems to be the verdict?"

Pilot flapped his three pronged hands at him as though shooing him away.

"Pilot?"

"What do you want, Crichton," came the rather acidic answer.

"Dude, we got stuff oozing all over Moya and you're not the tiniest bit concerned?"

"It's perfectly normal. Come back when you have a legitimate concern." Pilot rotated at his console and turned his back on John, his head bobbing up and down, agitated.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I'm 'bothering' you or anything," John took a step forward until his boot slid dangerously and he thought better of it. "But Aeryn took a header this morning into her utility shelf and we're all sliding around out here like figure skaters on acid. That's not 'normal'."

"Are the DRDs not keeping your quarters up to your standards?" Pilot did not turn his head.

"No, the quarters are fine, if you don't count bunk mates. But-" John narrowed his eyes as Pilot cut him off.

"Then I suggest you keep to safe areas, such as your quarters, until the problem resolves itself."

"Pilot, what's gotten into you? You just said this wasn't a 'problem'." They didn't have time for this. They should be half way to finding that damn command carrier by now. And why was Pilot acting suddenly more antisocial than usual. John wondered momentarily if they had passed through any unusual phenomena, thinking perhaps another energy rider.

"It's not a problem for Moya. It is a perfectly normal part of her life cycle. However," Pilot turned around to face John with ferocious speed and slammed all four arms down on the console. John jumped and nearly lost his footing. "However, I suggest if you are overly concerned by this that you find other arrangements and leave those of us who are directly affected by her mating cycle to our own devices. We are sorry it is such an inconvenience for you, Human. Now, if you'll excuse me." Pilot's tone of voice showed just how obviously he wasn't sorry for any inconvenience.

John was struck dumb. He was certain if he had been within range, Pilot most likely would have clocked him one. He eased his way out of the chamber. Mating cycle. Oh, that didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all. The others weren't going to like this one little bit, either.

"Mating cycle?" D'Argo roared.

Chiana laughed. "Who woulda thought, Leviathans need a little, too."

Aeryn looked confused. "I don't know too much about Leviathans except what I've learned here, but I didn't think females had a mating cycle."

All eyes turned to Crais, who sat nervously on the communication's console at the back of command. He scratched at his transponder and coughed.

"They, uh, generally don't."

"Crais, is this more of your goddamn PK tinkering?" John wanted to grab him by the throat and shake him but figured even if he made it over to the console in one piece, the shaking would have to wait.

"Not exactly."

Jool cocked her head as though two pieces of thought had finally clicked together. "Female Leviathans don't, except in response to the proximity of a male who does."

John covered his eyes and shook his head. Oh God, this wasn't happening. "In the Leviathan life cycle, Talyn is what, about a teenager now?"

"He is an adolescent," Crais answered, not sure if he was agreeing with Crichton or not.

"So basically what we have is a horny teenager on our hands?" Crais nodded. "And you were going to clue us in when?"

"I was hoping I could keep Talyn's urges in check until I could satisfy his needs in other ways. I did not expect Moya to have such an immediate and strong reaction to her own offspring."

"'Satisfy his needs in other ways'?" John screwed his face up in disgust. "I'm not going to ask. Don't even want to look at that map." He paused, rubbing his lips in thought. "Ok, so, how long we got til they get over this HBO afterhours stuff and we can get back on with our lives?" John looked over at D'Argo, who had his qualta blade again resting in his lap.

"Actually, we have a problem."

"Of course there's a problem. There's always a problem. Lay it on me, Captain." John slipped off the console he had been sitting on and moved towards the strategy table, that much closer to strangling distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he tried not to focus on the glare of the small black bandages against Aeryn's otherwise perfect skin.

"Leviathans do not mate with offspring. Males generally find a herd of females and the one who reacts strongest to his presence is the one who is mated. A male's mating cycle is not concluded until the act is concluded." Crais took a deep breath and looked around the room. He wanted to say this in as few words as possible but he figured Jool would be the only one to catch on before any of the others. "The other females either return to a non-aroused state with his departure, or wait until the next male approaches."

John raised a hand, pausing Crais again. "Ok, before the quiz, professor, let me make sure I have all the facts straight. Talyn isn't going to settle down til he gets laid? Moya may not settle down until SHE gets laid. However, Moya and Talyn are only responding biologically to each other, and that's it? They're not about to start jumping each other like a couple of guests on Jerry Springer?"

"Correct. I think." Crais nodded his head, looking at Aeryn for clarification of John's words and getting none.

"I dunno about that," John continued. "I had a cat growing up. Before we got her fixed you coulda stuck her with a pencil she wouldn't have cared." D'Argo hissed and wrinkled his face at the mental image. John shrugged. "Sorry big guy."

"We thought we had bred out this biological instinct."

"But let me guess, someone forgot to carry the one on some damn DNA computation. Ok, you said you had an alternative plan?" John looked at Crais from underneath a deep furrow in his brow. He really didn't want to hear the answer to this one.

Crais looked clearly more uncomfortable than he had the day Rygel had first brought him aboard a prisoner.

"As you well know, the transponder links us. We can share experiences. I thought, perhaps, I could satisfy Talyn's needs," Crais paused, scratching again at the transponder at the back of his neck. "Vicariously." He finished, finally settling on the most harmless of words he could think of.

"Vicariously?" Several voices chimed in together. John shook his head again. Just when he thought they'd all finally hit rock bottom, there was always one more sub-basement.

"I'm assuming this would imply you needed…a…partner?" John slid around Aeryn, trying to get closer to the little Peacekeeper cockroach. He felt her breath hitch as he grazed her knee with the palm of his hand. He settled on another console. No distractions, he told himself. Hold it together Johnny boy, at least til we get out of this particular jam THEN you can ruminate about the scent of kevich jelly on her breath, so much like peppermint.

Jool spoke up first. "And just which one of us were you expecting to go along with this plan?"

Chi laughed. Short, high pitched. "Don't look at me. I gave up pity frells a long time ago."

Crais ignored the insult and continued speaking. "I wasn't considering any of you. There should be a commerce planet less than three solar days away. As I said before, I thought we would reach it before Moya had this extreme of a reaction."

"So, either Talyn or Captain Kangaroo over here get their rocks off, or we're up to our necks in astroglide indefinitely?"

"Why don't we just send Crais back aboard Talyn and let them have some…'private time'?" D'Argo asked, shifting his weapon on his broad knees.

"Works for me," John said. He cocked his head at Crais.

"That would be an adequate solution but for two conflicting issues. The first is, Talyn will let no one aboard, not even me. Even if you can get him to open his landing bay doors, he will shoot anyone upon contact. Secondly, he will not leave Moya in her current…condition. Biologically, she is a compatible partner, though emotionally he would never consummate the union. Nor will he leave her to rut with an unknown ship. Even if we were to contact another male Leviathan, Talyn would most likely destroy it."

"Well, nothing like a sixteen year old with a hard on and a .45. Talk about your Oedipus complex." John eased off his perch again and started the slow, precarious slide towards the command door.

He stopped where Crais sat and without looking at him said, "I never thought I'd say this, but here's to hoping you get lucky." Then louder, to the rest of the crew, "Ok, we gotta change sleeping arrangements tonight. If we're going to be doing this for three or four more days, I need to get away from the sawmill twins here," he jerked a thumb at D'Argo and Crais, "and Aeryn is going to have to bunk with the girls before she puts out an eye."

"Thank you very much, but I can decide for myself my own living quarters." Aeryn straightened herself up and glared at him. He remembered seeing her sit in that same spot on the strategy table in his boxers and a T-shirt. It had only been two, two and a half cycles ago. It seemed another lifetime.

"Fine, but I'll tell you this, Pilot is not going to send a DRD to file down the corners on your shelves. Right now we're lucky he's sending any DRDs at all to mop up for us. So it would most likely be in your best interest to pack a bag and move quarters. It won't kill you, but a nasty spill in the middle of the night will." Aeryn narrowed her eyes at him and he knew he should back off, but he couldn't.

"Hey," Jool said, brushing absently at something on her bodice, "we don't snore or anything."

Chiana chuckled evilly. "Yeah, but she farts in her sleep."

John marveled at the microsecond it took for Jool's hair to turn from strawberry blond to vibrant day glo red. "I most certainly do not!"

"Ladies, ladies, cool it." John rubbed his eyes, he was tired, he still needed to come up with a plan for finding and boarding that command carrier, and getting his and Aeryn's asses out alive. He didn't need the girls sniping at each other and he didn't need this explosion in the KY factory to sort out. "Look, we'll draw lots. Double up in our own quarters, ok?"

Crais shook his head. "Ok, what's wrong with you?" John was about out of patience, and Crais, being neither friend nor female, was about to get the brunt of his frustration if he didn't have a damn good reason for disagreeing.

"Talyn and I have periods where our personalities…overlap. Officer Sun can attest to this fact. I don't think it would be prudent to chance placing me in the same quarters with a female, so I respectfully bow out of drawing lots. I should either bunk by myself, or with one of the males."

John and D'Argo looked at each other from across the room. D'Argo rolled his eyes and held up a fist. John mirrored him.

"Ready?" John asked. Aeryn looked unimpressed. Crais looked curious. The girls were amused, having seen this dozens of times already and knowing always the Luxan lost. D'Argo nodded sharply and they pumped their arms in unison up and down. One. Two. Three.

"Ah hah!" John said, clapping his hands. "Paper wraps rock, my friend."

D'Argo growled in reply. "That is so unrealistic." He pointed the tip of his weapon at Crais. "If you touch one thing in my quarters I will see to it your alternative plan has no means to come to fruition."

Crais raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps, Crichton, it would be better if I bunked with you."

"Perhaps…I think not, Crais. You two can serenade each other." John turned and looked at the three women in the room.

"Wait a microt, what about Rygel. One of us won't have to share quarters with Rygel will we?" Jool whined, flicking nervously at her bodice again.

"Rygel never touches the ground. He can sleep wherever he pleases and this 'stuff' won't effect him in the slightest. In case you haven't noticed, he didn't even bother wander in here for this little meeting." Chiana's voice didn't even bother to try to mask her contempt for her partner in crime.

"Go easy on him, Chi," John said quietly, "He's a lot of bluster, but I think he's hurting too after the whole Orrhn incident." Chiana nodded solemnly, then smiled in that way of hers that passed for playful and sexy and childlike all in an instant.

"So, which of you get the pleasure of my company for the evening." She waggled her eyebrows at John. He ignored her.

"The fair way to do this is to pick numbers." John pulled a pen out of his utility belt and scratched a number in his hand. "Whoever guesses the number closest to this one," he held up his fist, indicating the number written inside, "gets to bunk with the lovely Chi tonight." John nodded at Jool. "C'mon sweet thang, between one and twenty."

"Oh, this is ridiculous. Twelve."

"Aeryn?" He watched her tenderly touch the bandage on her chin, her finger sliding up to worry at the one suture put in the wound over her eye. Assessing the damage. Deciding whether or not it was worth trying again.

"One."

John opened his palm. He hoped the sweat hadn't worn away the home made ink he used. He gave up on holding his shaky hand steady and masked it by moving it quickly in front of everyone's eyes. "Thirteen."

Jool pouted. "I can't even read that horrible language of yours. How do I know you're not lying?"

Aeryn grabbed his palm and pulled it towards her for inspection. Her fingers were cool, steady. He wanted to lace his own through hers and draw each finger to his mouth. "I can," she said, "One. Three. Thirteen." She met his eyes.

"If you want to bunk with someone else…," he started to say quietly.

"I've shared co-gender accommodations before." She stood up and steadied herself., pushing off from a console to slide half way across the floor. She took a few mincing steps towards another console and repeated the process. When she had exited command John realized, amidst his mental dance of joy, all eyes were on him.

He shrugged. "Lucky thirteen."

"Do you think," D'Argo started.

"That this is very wise." Crais finished for him. They looked at each other and frowned.

Inside John's mind he was a preteen again. It was like being back in junior high school and the pretty girl had said hi. That must obviously mean she likes me. It never occurs to you until you're in college some girls are just nice. She must like me, she sat next to me in math class. It never occurs to you it was the last empty seat. Aeryn didn't run screaming in the other direction. Aeryn didn't demand other accommodations. It does, unfortunately, occur to you that she's too tired from mourning to care. But that's just a minor mental glitch that's easily pushed aside for happier thoughts.

The words of concerned friends were just white noise as John made his own precarious way to the door. Thoughts were shifting and coalescing in his mind too fast for him to keep up. It was only the simplest of ideas that eventually managed to shine through his preteen regressive haze. Even if he had to sleep on the floor, he'd be able to hear her breath in the odd hours of the night. He'd be able to hear her shift on the bed. In those lovely dark creases of his mind the past several cycles, the past few monens in particular he'd become a master at pretend.

Even amidst the emotional soup his brain had become in the last several microts, John remembered there was one last order of business. "Chi, Jool, one of you, whichever one Pilot is less pissed at these days, go down to his den and tell him we're moving back to our own quarters. Don't bother comming him, I don't think he's listening."

"What's Pilot's problem?" Jool asked, easing herself off the console and arranging her dress over her backside.

"Oh c'mon, Miss I Know Everything. Think about it. Pilot's connected to Moya in every sense of the word. Crais here gets to go out and get him a little and Pilot just gets to sit in front of his blinking lights and fantasize. I'd get pretty irrational, too."

Jool shrugged. "Actually, that explains a lot of behavior aboard this ship."