Chiana sat amidst the rock and rubble, gently stroking Mia's hair, tears streaming from her unseeing eyes. All her feelings -- the loss, the torment, the heartache from the last six monens erupted, overwhelming her. Aeryn had died, she knowing it was her fault for asking her friend to return to Moya for a microt to help her. Crichton had left Moya, taking little Brennik with him. She had been told all 52 times that her eyesight was incurable, only to be handed an impossible alternative. And D'Argo was lost, not answering to her cry for help.
She knew she needed to act, to make a decision. She needed to find D'Argo. She needed to check if Shedya was still alive. She needed to develop a plan for escape. But, for an eternity, she was only capable of sitting in shocked silence, running the soft hair through her fingers, mourning loss after loss.
She ran a finger down Mia's cheek, feeling the smooth skin. She was such a young woman. Who was this mother, this woman who'd been filled with enough love to keep herself alive through impossible conditions long enough to save her child? Burning with need for contact, Chiana leaned forward, softly laying her forehead against the woman's in her lap, trying to draw comfort in the connection.
An exploding light flashed in Chiana's eyes, and she felt like their skin was fused together where they touched. Instantly, snatches of memories began flowing from Mia to Chiana, resulting in a stream of continuous vision, all lasting split microts. She was Mia, seeing her life, feeling her feelings. She felt herself crouched in a darkened hole, terrified, horrified, watching her Nebari mate killed brutally for not betraying her.
She saw the same man reaching for her, caressing her face with a look of complete adoration. A crib, a house, Peacekeepers, looms, sunsets, sunrises, angry neighbors, loving friends; memory after memory flashed through her mind.
She saw the moment Shedya was born, felt the pain of him traveling through her pelvis and the joy of hearing his first cry. She felt the sweet touch of Nepehi's first kiss, the awkward moment they first met. Backwards in time she traveled, the memories piling on top of each other, flashing faster and faster as if each were fighting for their chance to survive before this connection was broken.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The light exploded once more, and when the last impression of brightness dimmed, she was sightless once more.
She was exhausted, scared, unsure of what had just happened, unsure of why it had happened. Her shoulders were heaving as she tried to slow her heart rate. Her head twitched uncontrollably, her hands shaking. She'd just lived an entire lifetime in a matter of microts. She'd thought her abilities had ended when she'd lost her sight. Instead, it seemed they'd changed once again.
Slowly, her mind returned to the present, to her surroundings and her current predicament. She was alone, in the middle of a battle, blind, with an infant. How was she going to survive?
"Chiana!" At first, she thought she was hallucinating, conjuring D'Argo's voice from her desperate need for him, but the voice called again, louder, more insistent. "Chiana! Where are you?!" His seemed to echo around her, dispelling any ideas of knowing which direction he was calling from.
"That's a frelling dumb question!" she exploded. "How the hezmana am *I* supposed to know?"
She heard D'Argo's laugh of relief and the familiar sound was a balm to her soul. "Are you injured?" he asked.
"My leg's broken. I'm sitting up, you should be able to find me fairly easily." D'Argo expelled a very creative Luxan epithet, impressing Chiana. "What's wrong?" she asked when he was through.
"I can't get to you. I'm pinned down under a beam. I can't even see you."
Chiana took her turn to spout an equally creative Nebari explicative. "Don't move," she said sarcastically, "I'll try to find you."
Thinking quickly, she gently lifted Mia's head from her lap, kissing her forehead and laying her gently on the rocks. Feeling around, her hand found the bag that had been shoved at her earlier. Reaching inside, she carefully caressed the infant. He was still warm. She placed her hand in front of his mouth. He was still breathing.
This was one tough kid.
Softly, she kissed the tips of her fingers, touching them to his cheek before pulling the handles over her shoulders and neck. She swung the bag around until she felt the baby's bulk against her back. "D'Argo! We're going to play a game Bobby taught me," she called out.
"Chiana, this is no time..."
"Shut up and listen, it's the only way out of this. Your voice is echoing too much." She paused a moment to make sure D'Argo wouldn't interrupt again, and then continued. "It's called Marco Polo. When I yell 'Marco', you yell 'Polo'. Got it?"
"It's a stupid game."
"Yeah, but we're gonna play. Ready?"
"Fine," he agreed, but the tone of his voice let her know what he thought of the idea.
"Marco!"
"Polo."
Chiana listened to the simple word, the shorter length making it easier to zero in on. Clamping her jaw shut to fortify against the pain, she slowly began her "reach, pull, drag, push" maneuver once again, this time with cargo on her back.
"Marco!"
"Polo," D'Argo returned unenthusiastically. "Chiana, I feel silly. I can keep talking..."
"Shut up!" she hollered. His lengthy tirade was bouncing around unseen walls, disorienting her. "Marco!"
"Polo."
Reach, pull drag, push. Her face slammed into something hard, unyielding, and sharp. Warm blood began trickling down her cheek, the searing pain momentarily diverting her attention from the throbbing, shooting pain in her leg. *Concentrate, you can do this* she told herself.
"Marco!"
"Polo!"
She adjusted her direction and began again. Reach, pull, drag, push; stop to breathe and let the throbbing ease slightly, continue again. Reach, pull, drag, push.
"Chiana, it's starting to get dark."
"So?" she asked unsympathetically. "I've got a broken leg, I'm going as fast as I can."
"I didn't mean..."
"Marco!" she interrupted.
"Polo," he answered contritely. The game continued on. Chiana was getting frustrated, beginning to feel as if she were crawling in circles uselessly, when D'Argo called out to her. "Chiana! I can see you! You're about five metras away. Turn to your left and head straight."
Relief poured into her, suffusing her with hope. "Be careful, there is a sharp pole to your right," D'Argo cautioned. Reach, pull, drag, push. Only this time, she had the aid of D'Argo's directions. "That's it, just a little farther," he encouraged, his voice growing nearer.
At last, her outstretched hand was grasped by his, and she felt herself pulled forward into his strong embrace. She was laugh and crying, grateful to be with him again. And though he'd never admit to it, she knew she felt a tell-tale hitch in his breathing.
As she reveled in the embrace, calming herself from her ordeal, other sensations she'd been ignoring began to emerge. She realized the omnipresent pulse blasts had ceased, and all was quiet with the exception of a nearby crackling sound. She also realized the night was much warmer than it should have been, and the smell of smoke was undeniable.
"D'Argo, are we near a fire?" she asked from the confines of his encompassing arms.
"Yes."
"How close?"
"Everywhere."
She pulled herself from his arms, lifting the bag from her shoulders and handing it to D'Argo. "Put this somewhere safe... gently." She heard the bag settled and then felt for the beam.
It had fallen across his shins, pinning his legs and making it too awkward for him to lift by himself. Laying flat on her back, she bit her lip to distract herself from the pain in her leg, and wiggled under the beam, barely thin enough to fit underneath, and placed her palms on the flat surface.
Taking a few energizing breaths, she put all her strength into lifting the offending object. She was only able to lift it half a dench for three microts, but it was enough for D'Argo to quickly slide himself out. The bar fell across her chest, and she felt herself being crushed, unable to breathe.
Instantly, the pressure was gone, the pole out of her hands. She moved in time to hear the beam slam loudly to the ground. They were both free. D'Argo assisted her to her feet, and for the first time in arns, she was off the ground.
"Where's the bag?" she automatically asked, concerned for the infant's safety.
"Right here."
She felt the wicker pushed into her arms and she slipped the handles over her shoulders once more, keeping Shedya against her stomach. Sliding her hand inside, she felt for his breath again, reassuring herself her baby was all right. "How far away is Lo'Laa?" she asked, holding D'Argo's arms to keep weight off her worst injury.
"A few more blocks. It looks as if the main force has withdrawn. Scavengers have taken over."
"It's the neighboring city," Chiana informed him. "They hired the Peacekeepers to take out their competition." She was lifted into strong arms and she felt him walking.
"When did you learn this?" he asked.
"A woman told me while we were separated."
"And she left you on your own?" D'Argo asked angrily
"She died." The pain must have seeped through her voice, for D'Argo became silent, not probing further. Quietly, they moved through the streets, Chiana held securely in the safety of D'Argo's arms.
"Only one more block," D'Argo whispered.
A small whimper emanated from the bag and Shedya began to squirm. Abruptly, D'Argo stopped. "Chiana, something in that bag is alive," he said calmly, as if nothing she did would surprise him anymore. Well, she was about to prove him wrong.
"His name is Shedya. I think he's waking up."
"You snurched a BABY?" D'Argo asked incredulously. "I don't believe this. Chiana, we have to find its parents." He began walking again, faster in his agitation.
"HIS parents are dead," she stated flatly.
"Then we have to find HIS family. We can't just kidnap him! I know you miss Brennik..."
"Kidnap?! KIDNAP?! Frell you D'Argo!" If she could have leapt from his arms, she would have. "You didn't crawl across a battlefield, BLIND with a broken leg! You didn't hold a dying woman in your lap as she begged you to save her infant! You didn't listen to her draw her last breath! You didn't live her... FRELL YOU! Shedya is MINE! I'll take care of him myself if I have to, but I made a promise." She tried to squirm from his embrace, but he held her firmly.
"I apologize," he said, trying to calm her. "Let's get this over with and we'll talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Chiana informed him. "His mother saw us fighting the Peacekeepers and chose us, knowing she was going to die. You didn't make the promise, so you're not obligated. But I did. I'm keeping him."
"How are you going to take care of him?"
She paused, a lump in her throat making it difficult to answer. "I thought I was going to have your help. But I'll manage if I have to." Alone.
There was moment of silence before D'Argo spoke softly. "You won't have to, Chiana, I would never abandon you."
She hugged his neck. "You didn't have to be a fekkik about it."
"There's more you're not telling me, isn't there?"
She nodded. "Later." He sighed and she knew he would drop the subject for the moment. "He's probably starving," she observed.
"We're almost there," D'Argo assured. The baby began to cry in earnest, and the Luxan picked up his speed. She heard him shout the words to make his ship reappear, and then heard his boots on the ramp. The door closed, and the sounds from outside silenced. They were safe.
She felt herself placed gently on a seat, flinching from the pain invoked by the transfer. D'Argo tried to pull the bag from her. "Chiana," he reassured when she resisted, "let me help you."
The bag was taken from her, and a microt later, she felt the crying infant pressed into her chest. She wrapped her arms around the warm bundle, trying to calm him. She began humming a Luxan lullaby that Brennik had loved, and Shedya calmed slightly. D'Argo placed a bottle in one of her hands and helped her reposition the baby.
"Where did you get this?" she asked wondering if it had been left behind by John on accident.
"His mother had been prepared. There is a smaller bag with supplies," D'Argo answered.
Silently thanking Mia for her foresight, she carefully felt the soft face until she found his mouth and slipped the bottle between his lips. Instantly, the crying stopped, replaced by the sound of loud sucking. He moaned in innocent pleasure of his tummy being filled, and Chiana wished she could see him.
Reaching into her mind, she found a memory Mia had given her of Nepehi feeding little Shedya, and she held onto that, feeling peaceful and calm for the first time in monens. She felt D'Argo kneel next to her and run the back of his knuckles gently across her scarred cheek. "You are a beautiful mother," he told her. As they sat together, feeding their child, they couldn't help but feel that this had been their labor. They had come through it together. This was their son.
She knew she needed to act, to make a decision. She needed to find D'Argo. She needed to check if Shedya was still alive. She needed to develop a plan for escape. But, for an eternity, she was only capable of sitting in shocked silence, running the soft hair through her fingers, mourning loss after loss.
She ran a finger down Mia's cheek, feeling the smooth skin. She was such a young woman. Who was this mother, this woman who'd been filled with enough love to keep herself alive through impossible conditions long enough to save her child? Burning with need for contact, Chiana leaned forward, softly laying her forehead against the woman's in her lap, trying to draw comfort in the connection.
An exploding light flashed in Chiana's eyes, and she felt like their skin was fused together where they touched. Instantly, snatches of memories began flowing from Mia to Chiana, resulting in a stream of continuous vision, all lasting split microts. She was Mia, seeing her life, feeling her feelings. She felt herself crouched in a darkened hole, terrified, horrified, watching her Nebari mate killed brutally for not betraying her.
She saw the same man reaching for her, caressing her face with a look of complete adoration. A crib, a house, Peacekeepers, looms, sunsets, sunrises, angry neighbors, loving friends; memory after memory flashed through her mind.
She saw the moment Shedya was born, felt the pain of him traveling through her pelvis and the joy of hearing his first cry. She felt the sweet touch of Nepehi's first kiss, the awkward moment they first met. Backwards in time she traveled, the memories piling on top of each other, flashing faster and faster as if each were fighting for their chance to survive before this connection was broken.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The light exploded once more, and when the last impression of brightness dimmed, she was sightless once more.
She was exhausted, scared, unsure of what had just happened, unsure of why it had happened. Her shoulders were heaving as she tried to slow her heart rate. Her head twitched uncontrollably, her hands shaking. She'd just lived an entire lifetime in a matter of microts. She'd thought her abilities had ended when she'd lost her sight. Instead, it seemed they'd changed once again.
Slowly, her mind returned to the present, to her surroundings and her current predicament. She was alone, in the middle of a battle, blind, with an infant. How was she going to survive?
"Chiana!" At first, she thought she was hallucinating, conjuring D'Argo's voice from her desperate need for him, but the voice called again, louder, more insistent. "Chiana! Where are you?!" His seemed to echo around her, dispelling any ideas of knowing which direction he was calling from.
"That's a frelling dumb question!" she exploded. "How the hezmana am *I* supposed to know?"
She heard D'Argo's laugh of relief and the familiar sound was a balm to her soul. "Are you injured?" he asked.
"My leg's broken. I'm sitting up, you should be able to find me fairly easily." D'Argo expelled a very creative Luxan epithet, impressing Chiana. "What's wrong?" she asked when he was through.
"I can't get to you. I'm pinned down under a beam. I can't even see you."
Chiana took her turn to spout an equally creative Nebari explicative. "Don't move," she said sarcastically, "I'll try to find you."
Thinking quickly, she gently lifted Mia's head from her lap, kissing her forehead and laying her gently on the rocks. Feeling around, her hand found the bag that had been shoved at her earlier. Reaching inside, she carefully caressed the infant. He was still warm. She placed her hand in front of his mouth. He was still breathing.
This was one tough kid.
Softly, she kissed the tips of her fingers, touching them to his cheek before pulling the handles over her shoulders and neck. She swung the bag around until she felt the baby's bulk against her back. "D'Argo! We're going to play a game Bobby taught me," she called out.
"Chiana, this is no time..."
"Shut up and listen, it's the only way out of this. Your voice is echoing too much." She paused a moment to make sure D'Argo wouldn't interrupt again, and then continued. "It's called Marco Polo. When I yell 'Marco', you yell 'Polo'. Got it?"
"It's a stupid game."
"Yeah, but we're gonna play. Ready?"
"Fine," he agreed, but the tone of his voice let her know what he thought of the idea.
"Marco!"
"Polo."
Chiana listened to the simple word, the shorter length making it easier to zero in on. Clamping her jaw shut to fortify against the pain, she slowly began her "reach, pull, drag, push" maneuver once again, this time with cargo on her back.
"Marco!"
"Polo," D'Argo returned unenthusiastically. "Chiana, I feel silly. I can keep talking..."
"Shut up!" she hollered. His lengthy tirade was bouncing around unseen walls, disorienting her. "Marco!"
"Polo."
Reach, pull drag, push. Her face slammed into something hard, unyielding, and sharp. Warm blood began trickling down her cheek, the searing pain momentarily diverting her attention from the throbbing, shooting pain in her leg. *Concentrate, you can do this* she told herself.
"Marco!"
"Polo!"
She adjusted her direction and began again. Reach, pull, drag, push; stop to breathe and let the throbbing ease slightly, continue again. Reach, pull, drag, push.
"Chiana, it's starting to get dark."
"So?" she asked unsympathetically. "I've got a broken leg, I'm going as fast as I can."
"I didn't mean..."
"Marco!" she interrupted.
"Polo," he answered contritely. The game continued on. Chiana was getting frustrated, beginning to feel as if she were crawling in circles uselessly, when D'Argo called out to her. "Chiana! I can see you! You're about five metras away. Turn to your left and head straight."
Relief poured into her, suffusing her with hope. "Be careful, there is a sharp pole to your right," D'Argo cautioned. Reach, pull, drag, push. Only this time, she had the aid of D'Argo's directions. "That's it, just a little farther," he encouraged, his voice growing nearer.
At last, her outstretched hand was grasped by his, and she felt herself pulled forward into his strong embrace. She was laugh and crying, grateful to be with him again. And though he'd never admit to it, she knew she felt a tell-tale hitch in his breathing.
As she reveled in the embrace, calming herself from her ordeal, other sensations she'd been ignoring began to emerge. She realized the omnipresent pulse blasts had ceased, and all was quiet with the exception of a nearby crackling sound. She also realized the night was much warmer than it should have been, and the smell of smoke was undeniable.
"D'Argo, are we near a fire?" she asked from the confines of his encompassing arms.
"Yes."
"How close?"
"Everywhere."
She pulled herself from his arms, lifting the bag from her shoulders and handing it to D'Argo. "Put this somewhere safe... gently." She heard the bag settled and then felt for the beam.
It had fallen across his shins, pinning his legs and making it too awkward for him to lift by himself. Laying flat on her back, she bit her lip to distract herself from the pain in her leg, and wiggled under the beam, barely thin enough to fit underneath, and placed her palms on the flat surface.
Taking a few energizing breaths, she put all her strength into lifting the offending object. She was only able to lift it half a dench for three microts, but it was enough for D'Argo to quickly slide himself out. The bar fell across her chest, and she felt herself being crushed, unable to breathe.
Instantly, the pressure was gone, the pole out of her hands. She moved in time to hear the beam slam loudly to the ground. They were both free. D'Argo assisted her to her feet, and for the first time in arns, she was off the ground.
"Where's the bag?" she automatically asked, concerned for the infant's safety.
"Right here."
She felt the wicker pushed into her arms and she slipped the handles over her shoulders once more, keeping Shedya against her stomach. Sliding her hand inside, she felt for his breath again, reassuring herself her baby was all right. "How far away is Lo'Laa?" she asked, holding D'Argo's arms to keep weight off her worst injury.
"A few more blocks. It looks as if the main force has withdrawn. Scavengers have taken over."
"It's the neighboring city," Chiana informed him. "They hired the Peacekeepers to take out their competition." She was lifted into strong arms and she felt him walking.
"When did you learn this?" he asked.
"A woman told me while we were separated."
"And she left you on your own?" D'Argo asked angrily
"She died." The pain must have seeped through her voice, for D'Argo became silent, not probing further. Quietly, they moved through the streets, Chiana held securely in the safety of D'Argo's arms.
"Only one more block," D'Argo whispered.
A small whimper emanated from the bag and Shedya began to squirm. Abruptly, D'Argo stopped. "Chiana, something in that bag is alive," he said calmly, as if nothing she did would surprise him anymore. Well, she was about to prove him wrong.
"His name is Shedya. I think he's waking up."
"You snurched a BABY?" D'Argo asked incredulously. "I don't believe this. Chiana, we have to find its parents." He began walking again, faster in his agitation.
"HIS parents are dead," she stated flatly.
"Then we have to find HIS family. We can't just kidnap him! I know you miss Brennik..."
"Kidnap?! KIDNAP?! Frell you D'Argo!" If she could have leapt from his arms, she would have. "You didn't crawl across a battlefield, BLIND with a broken leg! You didn't hold a dying woman in your lap as she begged you to save her infant! You didn't listen to her draw her last breath! You didn't live her... FRELL YOU! Shedya is MINE! I'll take care of him myself if I have to, but I made a promise." She tried to squirm from his embrace, but he held her firmly.
"I apologize," he said, trying to calm her. "Let's get this over with and we'll talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Chiana informed him. "His mother saw us fighting the Peacekeepers and chose us, knowing she was going to die. You didn't make the promise, so you're not obligated. But I did. I'm keeping him."
"How are you going to take care of him?"
She paused, a lump in her throat making it difficult to answer. "I thought I was going to have your help. But I'll manage if I have to." Alone.
There was moment of silence before D'Argo spoke softly. "You won't have to, Chiana, I would never abandon you."
She hugged his neck. "You didn't have to be a fekkik about it."
"There's more you're not telling me, isn't there?"
She nodded. "Later." He sighed and she knew he would drop the subject for the moment. "He's probably starving," she observed.
"We're almost there," D'Argo assured. The baby began to cry in earnest, and the Luxan picked up his speed. She heard him shout the words to make his ship reappear, and then heard his boots on the ramp. The door closed, and the sounds from outside silenced. They were safe.
She felt herself placed gently on a seat, flinching from the pain invoked by the transfer. D'Argo tried to pull the bag from her. "Chiana," he reassured when she resisted, "let me help you."
The bag was taken from her, and a microt later, she felt the crying infant pressed into her chest. She wrapped her arms around the warm bundle, trying to calm him. She began humming a Luxan lullaby that Brennik had loved, and Shedya calmed slightly. D'Argo placed a bottle in one of her hands and helped her reposition the baby.
"Where did you get this?" she asked wondering if it had been left behind by John on accident.
"His mother had been prepared. There is a smaller bag with supplies," D'Argo answered.
Silently thanking Mia for her foresight, she carefully felt the soft face until she found his mouth and slipped the bottle between his lips. Instantly, the crying stopped, replaced by the sound of loud sucking. He moaned in innocent pleasure of his tummy being filled, and Chiana wished she could see him.
Reaching into her mind, she found a memory Mia had given her of Nepehi feeding little Shedya, and she held onto that, feeling peaceful and calm for the first time in monens. She felt D'Argo kneel next to her and run the back of his knuckles gently across her scarred cheek. "You are a beautiful mother," he told her. As they sat together, feeding their child, they couldn't help but feel that this had been their labor. They had come through it together. This was their son.
