DISCLAIMER: I donÕt own Farscape. It belongs to a lot of people who are not me. I mean no harm, I come in peace. Rose, however, is very much mine.
*****
DonÕt get me wrong. I love the life I have, and I would not give it up for anything. Yes, parts of it have been extremely difficult. Being a mother is hard. Leaving Moya was hard. Going back there at the constant insistence of my husband and daughter while trying not to arouse suspicion for them or us is hard, and itÕs hard to say goodbye to everyone all over again. ItÕs hard to leave there each time and come back to this colony and pretend weÕre a normal, non-fugitive family.
The really disturbing thing is, IÕm starting to live out the extremely difficult part every single night at bedtime.
ÒIÕm not tired!Ó
I resist a sigh and look her straight in the eye. ÒItÕs past your bedtime. *Long* past your bedtime,Ó I tell her.
ÒBut IÕm *not* tired.Ó
She gets this from her father, I swear. He blames her stubbornness on me, but I know better. ÒRose,Ó I say slowly, Òyou may not be tired, but I am.Ó
ÒYou can go to sleep if you want,Ó Rose says simply. I have the sneaking suspicion that sheÕs not a child. SheÕs an adult trapped in the body of a six-cycle-old little girl.
IÕm fighting the urge to bang my head against the wall. If this were someone else- say, John- I could easily *force* them to sleep. Pantac jabs and such are good for that. But I have to put on a different face with my daughter. Especially since I know that sheÕll take any sign of weakness as a win. ItÕs like playing strategy games with her half the time... John always tells me sheÕs keeping me on my toes. I donÕt know what that means exactly, but I get the feeling heÕs right.
ÒHaving trouble?Ó
IÕm already wishing him not to start. The last thing I need is for both of them to gang up on me. They love to do that. John says IÕm too strict. Right. If it were up to him sheÕd be running wild. Actually, this whole thing is actually his fault, with his ÒCome on, Aeryn, five more minutes wonÕt hurt.Ó
ÒIÕm not tired,Ó Rose states. I hate those three words.
ÒAre you sure about that?Ó John says as he sits next to me on the edge of RoseÕs bed.
She nods. SheÕs not impressed.
He looks at me, shrugging. ÒIt worked every time my parents tried it on me,Ó he says. ÒIÕm out of ideas.Ó
I glare at him. ÒYouÕve been a great help.Ó
ÒSorry, babe. I tried.Ó John leans toward me, planting a kiss on my shoulder.
I look back to Rose, who is now at least laying down. ThatÕs a step in the right direction. ÒI donÕt want to go to sleep yet,Ó she says, folding her arms across her chest. Oh, look at her. She looks just like him when she does that. And he says she gets this from me? (Though to be honest, I have to admit that sheÕs absolutely adorable when she does that. Just like her father.)
ÒWhat if I bore you to sleep?Ó he offers.
ÒThat shouldnÕt be too hard,Ó I mutter, but both of them hear me.
Rose smiles. SheÕs used to us. She knows we act like this toward each other, and that we love each other. Of course, I think seeing that is why sheÕs getting so good at being sarcastic.
ÒIÕm serious,Ó says John. ÒBedtime story?Ó
I know where this is headed. He tried this with her once before, back when we were all still aboard Moya. It hadnÕt worked. He had tried to tell her stories from his planet, but Rose wanted details about everything he mentioned, and so he ended up explaining it for arns. He should know better. She wants to know everything about where her father came from, just like she wants to know everything about where her mother was before Moya. And weÕre honest. She knows better than to repeat the things she hears. She knows the situation weÕre in.
ÒYou can try...Ó Rose teases, smiling.
I move off the bed, sitting in the chair at her small table. ItÕs half my size, but I can deal with that. I want a good view of this.
ÒYou listening, Aeryn?Ó John says. ÒYou can learn something about me from this.Ó
ÒI learned something the last time you tried this,Ó I say.
He blows me a kiss.
ÒIs this part of the story?Ó Rose asks.
ÒNope,Ó John says, and clears his throat loudly. Obviously signaling that heÕs telling the story now. ÒOnce upon a time, in a land far, far... far, far, far, *far* away, there were these three bears. You remember what bears are?Ó When she nods, he goes on. ÒSo there are the three bears. The papa bear, the mama bear, and the baby bear.Ó
Rose grins. ÒLike us! You, me and Mom.Ó
John slides a glance at me, but continues. ÒSo the three bears, theyÕre hungry and theyÕre having porridge for dinner-Ó
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó
ÒItÕs food. ItÕs kind of nasty, you donÕt want to think about it too much.Ó
ÒThen why are they eating it?Ó
ÒWhen youÕre hungry, youÕll eat anything. The next step down from this would be food cubes. But anyway, they sit down to dinner, and they all take a bite. And the papa bear says, ÔMine is too hot.Õ And the mama bear says, ÔMine is too cold.Õ And the baby bear says, ÔMine is just right.ÕÓ
I admit, itÕs cute how he does different voices for each bear. But IÕve already got questions about this story. (Like what? Well, for example, how could food cooked at the same time all be such different temperatures?) But I keep them to myself. I do *not* want to put any more thoughts into that little girlÕs head tonight.
ÒSo the bears decide to take a walk and let the food get temperature-controlled. And while theyÕre out, thereÕs this girl that comes skipping down the road toward the house. Her name was Goldilocks-Ó
ÒWhat kind of name is Goldilocks?Ó Rose asks.
ÒA made up one. Sh, get tired.Ó
I smile at them. He really does have a way with her. And if it hadnÕt been for his support, I never would have been able to do this. I knew less than nothing about children. But he assured me we could do this. And we did. I think weÕve done a good job with her so far. WeÕre proud of her. (SheÕs a little on the spoiled side, I know, but thatÕs all right. John says itÕs because sheÕs an only child.
ÒGoldilocks sees the house, and goes inside because sheÕs a really nosy girl. I donÕt think her parents raised her right,Ó John says. ÒAnd she sees the bowls of porridge on the table.Ó
ÒAnd she eats it, right?Ó says Rose. ÒThat was dumb.Ó
ÒI totally agree. YouÕre getting ahead of me, sweetie. Goldilocks sits at the table, and tries the papa bearÕs porridge. And she says, Ôoh, this is too hot-ÕÓ
ÒThen she shouldnÕt be eating it.Ó
ÒYouÕre smarter than she is. Okay, so skip ahead a little. Goldilocks eats up all the porridge and decides she wants to sit down. So she goes into the living room and sits in the papa bearÕs chair. And she says, ÔThis chair is too hard.Õ And she sits in the mama bearÕs chair and says, ÔThis chair is too soft.Õ And she sits in the baby bearÕs chair and says, ÔThis one is just right.ÕÓ
I can already see Rose trying to yawn with her mouth closed. Maybe JohnÕs learned something since the last time he tried this.
ÒSo Goldilocks gets tired of sitting there, and she goes upstairs. And she finds the bedroom,Ó John continues. ÒSo she lays on the papa bearÕs bed, and...Ó
ÒI get it,Ó Rose said quietly, her big blue eyes slowly closing.
ÒWell, so she goes to the mama bearÕs bed and the baby bearÕs bed and she falls asleep.Ó He stops, waiting for her to ask him another question. ÒAnd I think sheÕs out,Ó he tells me.
ÒThank you,Ó I tell him. IÕd probably still be up with her.
We both kiss her good night, and I pull the covers up a little higher over her. John and I stare at her a moment longer before leaving together.
ÒSo how does the story end?Ó I ask John. (IÕm actually curious. I have a lot of the same questions Rose did. Not to mention my idea of the ending includes an arrest for trespassing.)
He is quiet for a minute, frowning. ÒI donÕt know,Ó he said, and laughs. ÒI havenÕt heard it in years. Thank God I didnÕt have to ad lib the ending.Ó
I smile at that. I would have liked to see that. ÒAnd where were you when I went through this last night?Ó I say.
ÒPlease. When you get in one of your I-donÕt-need-your-help moods, I make sure to be not in the same room,Ó he says.
ÒIÕm not *that* bad,Ó I say.
ÒYeah, you are. But I love you anyway,Ó he says, and kisses me to prove his point.
I really do love him. It took me a while to figure that out. But I do. And by now, I know he believes me when I say that. He *better* believe me. IÕve made a lot of sacrifices for him. I donÕt mind, though. HeÕs made just as many sacrifices as I have.
ÒI love you, too,Ó I say.
He sends me that smile of his. You know which one. ÒGlad to hear it. Same time tomorrow?Ó
ÒIÕm not doing this again tomorrow,Ó I tell him, shaking my head. ÒItÕs your turn.Ó
ÒFine with me. I think IÕll need to start thinking of stories ahead of time,Ó John says, taking my hand in his.
ÒNot to mention the endings.Ó
ÒTonight was a fluke, I swear. And I could have made up my own ending. ItÕs not like anyone out here knows the story,Ó he reminds me.
John opens the door to the small yard in back. ItÕs beautiful there at night. You can get a completely unobstructed view of the stars, and thereÕs complete silence... ItÕs not the terrace, but itÕs as close as you can get down here.
We do this often, after weÕve put Rose to bed. And we sit out under the stars, just staring upward. I never thought I would ever be able to get used to absolute silence, but after all those times on Moya when we would come off of some escape or situation and then have nothing but peace and quiet till the next disaster... I found myself missing that for a long time, till we started coming out here.
We settled in one of the Sebacean colonies in the Uncharted Territories about two cycles ago. No one even suspected that John or Rose were anything but Sebacean. Or that their neighbors were technically criminals, for that matter. But it was much harder to leave than I thought it would be. We had made Moya our home. But that was no life for our daughter. She deserved better.
John doesnÕt say it, but I know he misses them. If *I* miss them, I know he does. Even Rose will ask when we can see them again. And we try. Since leaving, we have arranged a couple of meetings with them. ItÕs very hard for me to imagine now what life would be like without DÕArgo and Zhaan and Pilot and Chiana and Rygel there somehow. And Rose seems to have really bonded with Chiana- that terrifies me to no end. I donÕt even want to think about what sheÕs teaching that girl when my back is turned.
ItÕs strange to think of how much things have changed. Think about it. When I first met all those people, I *hated* them. And why wouldnÕt I? When I first met them, theyÕd captured me. And now I find myself *missing* them. But things change. Priorities change, people change...
Actually, John hasnÕt. Not much, anyway. HeÕs a lot less uncomfortable here than he used to be, thatÕs clear. But heÕs still basically the same person. He still makes references to things I will never understand even if he explains them to me. (That still annoys me. I donÕt know how that could *not* annoy me.) He still makes those tapes for his father. HeÕs still John. And every day IÕm grateful for that. I know that there will always be a part of him that I canÕt understand. But thatÕs the part he gets to share with Rose.
John puts an arm around me, and I settle closer to him. I wonder what heÕs thinking.
The door then opens behind us, followed by a small voice: ÒI canÕt sleep.Ó
*****
DonÕt get me wrong. I love the life I have, and I would not give it up for anything. Yes, parts of it have been extremely difficult. Being a mother is hard. Leaving Moya was hard. Going back there at the constant insistence of my husband and daughter while trying not to arouse suspicion for them or us is hard, and itÕs hard to say goodbye to everyone all over again. ItÕs hard to leave there each time and come back to this colony and pretend weÕre a normal, non-fugitive family.
The really disturbing thing is, IÕm starting to live out the extremely difficult part every single night at bedtime.
ÒIÕm not tired!Ó
I resist a sigh and look her straight in the eye. ÒItÕs past your bedtime. *Long* past your bedtime,Ó I tell her.
ÒBut IÕm *not* tired.Ó
She gets this from her father, I swear. He blames her stubbornness on me, but I know better. ÒRose,Ó I say slowly, Òyou may not be tired, but I am.Ó
ÒYou can go to sleep if you want,Ó Rose says simply. I have the sneaking suspicion that sheÕs not a child. SheÕs an adult trapped in the body of a six-cycle-old little girl.
IÕm fighting the urge to bang my head against the wall. If this were someone else- say, John- I could easily *force* them to sleep. Pantac jabs and such are good for that. But I have to put on a different face with my daughter. Especially since I know that sheÕll take any sign of weakness as a win. ItÕs like playing strategy games with her half the time... John always tells me sheÕs keeping me on my toes. I donÕt know what that means exactly, but I get the feeling heÕs right.
ÒHaving trouble?Ó
IÕm already wishing him not to start. The last thing I need is for both of them to gang up on me. They love to do that. John says IÕm too strict. Right. If it were up to him sheÕd be running wild. Actually, this whole thing is actually his fault, with his ÒCome on, Aeryn, five more minutes wonÕt hurt.Ó
ÒIÕm not tired,Ó Rose states. I hate those three words.
ÒAre you sure about that?Ó John says as he sits next to me on the edge of RoseÕs bed.
She nods. SheÕs not impressed.
He looks at me, shrugging. ÒIt worked every time my parents tried it on me,Ó he says. ÒIÕm out of ideas.Ó
I glare at him. ÒYouÕve been a great help.Ó
ÒSorry, babe. I tried.Ó John leans toward me, planting a kiss on my shoulder.
I look back to Rose, who is now at least laying down. ThatÕs a step in the right direction. ÒI donÕt want to go to sleep yet,Ó she says, folding her arms across her chest. Oh, look at her. She looks just like him when she does that. And he says she gets this from me? (Though to be honest, I have to admit that sheÕs absolutely adorable when she does that. Just like her father.)
ÒWhat if I bore you to sleep?Ó he offers.
ÒThat shouldnÕt be too hard,Ó I mutter, but both of them hear me.
Rose smiles. SheÕs used to us. She knows we act like this toward each other, and that we love each other. Of course, I think seeing that is why sheÕs getting so good at being sarcastic.
ÒIÕm serious,Ó says John. ÒBedtime story?Ó
I know where this is headed. He tried this with her once before, back when we were all still aboard Moya. It hadnÕt worked. He had tried to tell her stories from his planet, but Rose wanted details about everything he mentioned, and so he ended up explaining it for arns. He should know better. She wants to know everything about where her father came from, just like she wants to know everything about where her mother was before Moya. And weÕre honest. She knows better than to repeat the things she hears. She knows the situation weÕre in.
ÒYou can try...Ó Rose teases, smiling.
I move off the bed, sitting in the chair at her small table. ItÕs half my size, but I can deal with that. I want a good view of this.
ÒYou listening, Aeryn?Ó John says. ÒYou can learn something about me from this.Ó
ÒI learned something the last time you tried this,Ó I say.
He blows me a kiss.
ÒIs this part of the story?Ó Rose asks.
ÒNope,Ó John says, and clears his throat loudly. Obviously signaling that heÕs telling the story now. ÒOnce upon a time, in a land far, far... far, far, far, *far* away, there were these three bears. You remember what bears are?Ó When she nods, he goes on. ÒSo there are the three bears. The papa bear, the mama bear, and the baby bear.Ó
Rose grins. ÒLike us! You, me and Mom.Ó
John slides a glance at me, but continues. ÒSo the three bears, theyÕre hungry and theyÕre having porridge for dinner-Ó
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó
ÒItÕs food. ItÕs kind of nasty, you donÕt want to think about it too much.Ó
ÒThen why are they eating it?Ó
ÒWhen youÕre hungry, youÕll eat anything. The next step down from this would be food cubes. But anyway, they sit down to dinner, and they all take a bite. And the papa bear says, ÔMine is too hot.Õ And the mama bear says, ÔMine is too cold.Õ And the baby bear says, ÔMine is just right.ÕÓ
I admit, itÕs cute how he does different voices for each bear. But IÕve already got questions about this story. (Like what? Well, for example, how could food cooked at the same time all be such different temperatures?) But I keep them to myself. I do *not* want to put any more thoughts into that little girlÕs head tonight.
ÒSo the bears decide to take a walk and let the food get temperature-controlled. And while theyÕre out, thereÕs this girl that comes skipping down the road toward the house. Her name was Goldilocks-Ó
ÒWhat kind of name is Goldilocks?Ó Rose asks.
ÒA made up one. Sh, get tired.Ó
I smile at them. He really does have a way with her. And if it hadnÕt been for his support, I never would have been able to do this. I knew less than nothing about children. But he assured me we could do this. And we did. I think weÕve done a good job with her so far. WeÕre proud of her. (SheÕs a little on the spoiled side, I know, but thatÕs all right. John says itÕs because sheÕs an only child.
ÒGoldilocks sees the house, and goes inside because sheÕs a really nosy girl. I donÕt think her parents raised her right,Ó John says. ÒAnd she sees the bowls of porridge on the table.Ó
ÒAnd she eats it, right?Ó says Rose. ÒThat was dumb.Ó
ÒI totally agree. YouÕre getting ahead of me, sweetie. Goldilocks sits at the table, and tries the papa bearÕs porridge. And she says, Ôoh, this is too hot-ÕÓ
ÒThen she shouldnÕt be eating it.Ó
ÒYouÕre smarter than she is. Okay, so skip ahead a little. Goldilocks eats up all the porridge and decides she wants to sit down. So she goes into the living room and sits in the papa bearÕs chair. And she says, ÔThis chair is too hard.Õ And she sits in the mama bearÕs chair and says, ÔThis chair is too soft.Õ And she sits in the baby bearÕs chair and says, ÔThis one is just right.ÕÓ
I can already see Rose trying to yawn with her mouth closed. Maybe JohnÕs learned something since the last time he tried this.
ÒSo Goldilocks gets tired of sitting there, and she goes upstairs. And she finds the bedroom,Ó John continues. ÒSo she lays on the papa bearÕs bed, and...Ó
ÒI get it,Ó Rose said quietly, her big blue eyes slowly closing.
ÒWell, so she goes to the mama bearÕs bed and the baby bearÕs bed and she falls asleep.Ó He stops, waiting for her to ask him another question. ÒAnd I think sheÕs out,Ó he tells me.
ÒThank you,Ó I tell him. IÕd probably still be up with her.
We both kiss her good night, and I pull the covers up a little higher over her. John and I stare at her a moment longer before leaving together.
ÒSo how does the story end?Ó I ask John. (IÕm actually curious. I have a lot of the same questions Rose did. Not to mention my idea of the ending includes an arrest for trespassing.)
He is quiet for a minute, frowning. ÒI donÕt know,Ó he said, and laughs. ÒI havenÕt heard it in years. Thank God I didnÕt have to ad lib the ending.Ó
I smile at that. I would have liked to see that. ÒAnd where were you when I went through this last night?Ó I say.
ÒPlease. When you get in one of your I-donÕt-need-your-help moods, I make sure to be not in the same room,Ó he says.
ÒIÕm not *that* bad,Ó I say.
ÒYeah, you are. But I love you anyway,Ó he says, and kisses me to prove his point.
I really do love him. It took me a while to figure that out. But I do. And by now, I know he believes me when I say that. He *better* believe me. IÕve made a lot of sacrifices for him. I donÕt mind, though. HeÕs made just as many sacrifices as I have.
ÒI love you, too,Ó I say.
He sends me that smile of his. You know which one. ÒGlad to hear it. Same time tomorrow?Ó
ÒIÕm not doing this again tomorrow,Ó I tell him, shaking my head. ÒItÕs your turn.Ó
ÒFine with me. I think IÕll need to start thinking of stories ahead of time,Ó John says, taking my hand in his.
ÒNot to mention the endings.Ó
ÒTonight was a fluke, I swear. And I could have made up my own ending. ItÕs not like anyone out here knows the story,Ó he reminds me.
John opens the door to the small yard in back. ItÕs beautiful there at night. You can get a completely unobstructed view of the stars, and thereÕs complete silence... ItÕs not the terrace, but itÕs as close as you can get down here.
We do this often, after weÕve put Rose to bed. And we sit out under the stars, just staring upward. I never thought I would ever be able to get used to absolute silence, but after all those times on Moya when we would come off of some escape or situation and then have nothing but peace and quiet till the next disaster... I found myself missing that for a long time, till we started coming out here.
We settled in one of the Sebacean colonies in the Uncharted Territories about two cycles ago. No one even suspected that John or Rose were anything but Sebacean. Or that their neighbors were technically criminals, for that matter. But it was much harder to leave than I thought it would be. We had made Moya our home. But that was no life for our daughter. She deserved better.
John doesnÕt say it, but I know he misses them. If *I* miss them, I know he does. Even Rose will ask when we can see them again. And we try. Since leaving, we have arranged a couple of meetings with them. ItÕs very hard for me to imagine now what life would be like without DÕArgo and Zhaan and Pilot and Chiana and Rygel there somehow. And Rose seems to have really bonded with Chiana- that terrifies me to no end. I donÕt even want to think about what sheÕs teaching that girl when my back is turned.
ItÕs strange to think of how much things have changed. Think about it. When I first met all those people, I *hated* them. And why wouldnÕt I? When I first met them, theyÕd captured me. And now I find myself *missing* them. But things change. Priorities change, people change...
Actually, John hasnÕt. Not much, anyway. HeÕs a lot less uncomfortable here than he used to be, thatÕs clear. But heÕs still basically the same person. He still makes references to things I will never understand even if he explains them to me. (That still annoys me. I donÕt know how that could *not* annoy me.) He still makes those tapes for his father. HeÕs still John. And every day IÕm grateful for that. I know that there will always be a part of him that I canÕt understand. But thatÕs the part he gets to share with Rose.
John puts an arm around me, and I settle closer to him. I wonder what heÕs thinking.
The door then opens behind us, followed by a small voice: ÒI canÕt sleep.Ó