THE RETURN
DISCLAIMER: All the usual disclaimers apply here.
SUMMARY: This is a short piece about what Aeryn was thinking and feeling during and after the scene in Fractures where she returns to Moya. All constructive comments are appreciated, so please review. This whole thing with Crichton rips my heart out every time I watch it. He is so full of anticipation and hope, and so crushed by the rejection. Sob, sob!
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Aeryn stepped from the Transport Pod. Her expression was cold, flat, her eyes lifeless. There he was standing in front of her.
"Well, there's a familiar face." He said, with an expression of such anticipation for her response.
He couldn't know how inappropriate those words were.
She stopped and appeared to meet his gaze, though in fact, she was seeing nothing.
She said the words, "Hello John."
They sounded distant to her ears, unconnected to her being. She showed absolutely no outward sign of emotion as she walked past Crichton, trying hard not to look into those puppy dog eyes, filled with excitement at her return. It was even more difficult to ignore the expression of hurt and pain that clouded his features as her lack of acknowledgement hit him like a sharp slap in the face. Even though she did not see it she knew it was there. She did not look back. She met Crais's eyes, pausing briefly and then she left. She kept her stride fast and even, determined to keep control of her physical self, even if she could not control her emotions. She tried to lose herself in the rhythmic click of her boots on Moya's corridor, but it was hard and she knew she was losing the battle.
Reaching the door of her chamber she realised that her hands were trembling. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it in an attempt to stop her body from shaking. She fought hard, but she was no match for the tide of misery and loss that washed over her and soon engulfed her. Her body convulsed with racking sobs and she slid helplessly down to the floor, her hands over her face.
Thoughts seemed to multiply in her head, vying for space, one replacing the other, jumbled, confused. A kaleidoscope of images, of events that had taken place in the last three cycles; all of her and John. Each image was a piece of the puzzle that was their relationship; joy, anger, sadness, passion, all tumbled together in her head. Then suddenly they were gone and only one image remained, clear and unmistakeable. The final part of the puzzle; John as he lay dying. She heard his voice as clearly as if he were in the room.
"Don't worry about me. I've never felt better."
And then the light left his eyes and as it faded the image did too, and then there was nothing, only darkness.
"NO!" She screamed, "No John, don't go, don't leave me."
She curled up into a foetal ball on the floor and began to rock, sobbing as though she would never stop.
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An arn later Aeryn sat on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest.
After he had heard about John from Crais, Crichton had knocked to see her, but she had refused to let him in. The hurt and rejection in his voice had caused her actual physical pain. But how could she see him? How could she look into those clear blue eyes, hear that familiar voice without thinking of John, her John. The man she had loved with every fibre of her being, and who had been ripped from her heart, leaving only an empty space and the agonising pain of unbearable loss. It was just too difficult to contemplate having a walking, talking reminder of the man she had loved so much. It would be like a ghost haunting her constantly, tormenting her with what might have been, what should have been. Breathing life into someone who was gone.
Suddenly it became clear to her that she should leave Moya, get as far away from it all as possible. As far away from Crichton as she could. Find a new home, a new life, new people.
But not today. Today she needed to be here, in the warm, safe, womb-like surroundings of Moya. When she felt stronger she would go. In a few days maybe. She would leave Moya and Crichton and the pain far behind.