MATERNITY LEAVE
Spoilers for "Dog With Two Bones."
Answer to Jae Gecko's 500-word "Secrets" challenge.
***
The coin is Scarran currency. Enemy. Alien, even to her, and certainly to the
man who sends it aloft with a twitch of his fingers.
Those fingers have been in her hair, along her skin. Crichton's hands, only
they're not. John's hands, not Crichton's. They should be the same in her mind.
Would be, except for those times on Talyn with John, her John, her John who died
in her arms.
Heads, tails, heads, tails. Spinning. Her head spins, too. One of the
aftereffects of being on Talyn with John is that looking at Crichton makes her
long for him, makes her dizzy. Makes her regret John's child.
Aeryn watches the coin. Crichton watches Aeryn. Only Aeryn. Crichton was never
in her position, needing to delineate between beloved and friend. Crichton
observes her with John's eyes – blue as Nebari blood, rims red from recent
tears. The wrong face, but the right one. His keen gaze never leaves her.
Oh, how John left her. He'd saved her, then loved her, then left her. Then she
found herself back with Crichton (do you love John Crichton?) What a frelling
mess.
The coin comes down, as do the corners of Crichton's mouth as he realizes he's
lost. He will probably weep again, weak Human, his tears annoying her because
the ones John shed seemed so much more noble, so much less childlike.
Not fair, and the churning in her stomach increases. Childlike – would this
child have John's Human tendencies? Would she, Peacekeeper, bear a son who wept?
Better to get rid of the frelling thing: to get rid of the last link to John.
Beyond hope.
Crichton's not going to stop her. He'll drink a bottle of raslac and knock
himself senseless for a while, but he's not going to stop her. No any reason to,
other than this endless, wistful longing. She wants him to let her go.
She wants him to force her to stay. Wants him to know why.
She wants, she wants, she's a Peacekeeper and yet she wants, when Peacekeepers
are bred to want nothing.
She wants nothing to do with this child. In stasis, inside her, part of a man
who's dead, whose doppelganger wouldn't want a lifelong reminder of what he's
never known. Or would he? Might Crichton's gallant gentleness, so long dormant,
emerge again? Might he hold a raven-haired girl by the hand and tell her she
could be so much more?
When I was with John on Talyn, she could say, I became pregnant.
His eyes would widen then, and he'd place his thumb at the corner of his mouth
while he thought about it. There'd be a flash of jealousy, eyes turning stormy,
then he'd wrap her in his arms and say he loves them both.
That it's going to be okay.
Only it won't. Because we keep secrets from one another, you and I.
"Goodbye Crichton. John."
She carries her secret past him - into the prowler, into the vastness of space.
***
END
***
Feedback is welcome at Marguerite@operamail.com.
Back to Miscellaneous Fic.
Spoilers for "Dog With Two Bones."
Answer to Jae Gecko's 500-word "Secrets" challenge.
***
The coin is Scarran currency. Enemy. Alien, even to her, and certainly to the
man who sends it aloft with a twitch of his fingers.
Those fingers have been in her hair, along her skin. Crichton's hands, only
they're not. John's hands, not Crichton's. They should be the same in her mind.
Would be, except for those times on Talyn with John, her John, her John who died
in her arms.
Heads, tails, heads, tails. Spinning. Her head spins, too. One of the
aftereffects of being on Talyn with John is that looking at Crichton makes her
long for him, makes her dizzy. Makes her regret John's child.
Aeryn watches the coin. Crichton watches Aeryn. Only Aeryn. Crichton was never
in her position, needing to delineate between beloved and friend. Crichton
observes her with John's eyes – blue as Nebari blood, rims red from recent
tears. The wrong face, but the right one. His keen gaze never leaves her.
Oh, how John left her. He'd saved her, then loved her, then left her. Then she
found herself back with Crichton (do you love John Crichton?) What a frelling
mess.
The coin comes down, as do the corners of Crichton's mouth as he realizes he's
lost. He will probably weep again, weak Human, his tears annoying her because
the ones John shed seemed so much more noble, so much less childlike.
Not fair, and the churning in her stomach increases. Childlike – would this
child have John's Human tendencies? Would she, Peacekeeper, bear a son who wept?
Better to get rid of the frelling thing: to get rid of the last link to John.
Beyond hope.
Crichton's not going to stop her. He'll drink a bottle of raslac and knock
himself senseless for a while, but he's not going to stop her. No any reason to,
other than this endless, wistful longing. She wants him to let her go.
She wants him to force her to stay. Wants him to know why.
She wants, she wants, she's a Peacekeeper and yet she wants, when Peacekeepers
are bred to want nothing.
She wants nothing to do with this child. In stasis, inside her, part of a man
who's dead, whose doppelganger wouldn't want a lifelong reminder of what he's
never known. Or would he? Might Crichton's gallant gentleness, so long dormant,
emerge again? Might he hold a raven-haired girl by the hand and tell her she
could be so much more?
When I was with John on Talyn, she could say, I became pregnant.
His eyes would widen then, and he'd place his thumb at the corner of his mouth
while he thought about it. There'd be a flash of jealousy, eyes turning stormy,
then he'd wrap her in his arms and say he loves them both.
That it's going to be okay.
Only it won't. Because we keep secrets from one another, you and I.
"Goodbye Crichton. John."
She carries her secret past him - into the prowler, into the vastness of space.
***
END
***
Feedback is welcome at Marguerite@operamail.com.
Back to Miscellaneous Fic.