Miscommunication

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Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story don't belong to me.
Setting: During "WWL - Sacrifice", shortly after D'Argo and Chiana have their catching-up moment.
Plot: A perplexed Chiana confronts Jool about the latter's involvement with D'Argo.
Author's Notes: Just a sappy, pointless filler-fic, because I would've liked to see more of that triangle.
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"D'Argo."

The pointed silence that resonated through the ancient ruins should really have been response enough. Jool smiled, the faintest hint of embarrassment touching her features. It was a look that said more than any verbal reply could... in retrospect, Chiana supposed she should've just taken the look and walked off. But she'd never been the kind to do what she should, and had no plans to start now. She crossed her arms with delusions of intimidation, though the sudden sympathetic look on the Interion's face suggested a completely different effect.

"D'Argo."

Jool sighed, clearly realising that she wasn't going to get away with an embarrassed smile. "What about it?" she demanded, though the note of annoyance in her voice seemed rather strained. "We need to ask your permission?"

"Would've been nice."

The Interion rolled her eyes in time-honoured disgust. "You weren't here. You and Rygel got the first transport off Moya, remember?" She paused for a moment of superior smirking. "You really thought he was just gonna sit around and wait for you to come crawling back to him?" The anger was genuine now, and the sympathy in her eyes had been replaced by a much harder material. Chiana almost recoiled from it. Almost, but not quite.

"He can do what he wants," she said, coldly.

Again, Jool's features twisted, anger switching to bafflement. "Then what the hezmana is your problem?"

"Forget it."

Bored with this pointlessness, she turned about, making for the exit. She was sick of this planet... sick of the Interions, sick of D'Argo, sick of Jool... and, above all, sick of them. Both of them. Together. Like she didn't matter any more. She'd left Moya, so naturally it was perfectly okay for the two of them to move on... to go and frell each other. Yeah, that made sense. Because it wasn't like they'd ever see her again. Well, to hezmana with the pair of them. She hoped they were very happy together.

"Chiana!"

"Would you just le—" She never got the chance to finish the sentence, as her backwards glance was promptly caught by a vicious backhand. Frowning, she straightened up and glared. "What was that for?"

"You!" A long pause. "Just... you."

Chiana laughed humourlessly. "Great. You've figured out the violence thing. Congratulations." This last was uttered without a trace of sincerity. "Can I go now?"

"No." There was a maelstrom of frustration, concern, and sadness in that one simple word, and Chiana nearly felt bad for her. Well... not quite 'nearly'. Jool sighed and tried again. "Look. Can't you just..." She shook her head. "Why does it bother you anyway? You've not been with him in over a cycle. Why do you care?"

"I don't. Okay? Now can I go?"

Jool held up her hands, officially giving up. "Do what you want."

Naturally, Chiana didn't move.

For several microts, the two girls stood and stared at each other. Chiana was painfully conscious of the frustrated confusion on the redhead's face, and it only served to heighten her own inner turmoil. Why did people have to be so complicated? Whatever happened to her age-old tradition of frelling 'em and leaving 'em? Why did she suddenly have to care about people? Why these people?

"Why you?"

The frustration on Jool's face escalated a few notches, and Chiana backed up in case the Interion decided to show off her new violent tendencies some more. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..." She took a breath. "Why you?"

To her surprise, Jool actually laughed. Anxious that it might be a trick to coerce her back into striking distance, Chiana took another couple of steps backwards. But the laughter didn't stop, and within a matter of microts, Chiana found herself suddenly more worried about her own violent tendencies than any that Jool may have developed in her time with D'Argo. "What's so funny?" she snapped.

Calming down a little, Jool smirked. "I get it. You're jealous. You really don't care that he might be seeing someone else. You just can't stand the thought that he might prefer me." She laughed again, and Chiana felt her features tighten with barely-suppressed rage. "Well, tough luck. Maybe you should take better care of your property next time."

For the briefest of moments, Chiana considered putting her fist through the nearest wall. Then she realised that it would be far less painful and far more fulfilling to simply put Jool's head through it. Pacified by this delightful thought, she shook her head calmly, too tired to argue any more... and far too tired to explain. "Yeah. That's it, exactly. Well done, Princess, you've got me all figured out."

Catching her off-guard again, Jool's laughter was suddenly cut, and the Nebari found herself once again fixed with a cold and deadly glare. "Well, what the hezmana is it, then?"

"What!? I just agreed with you!"

"Exactly." Again, the redhead's anger had subsided in favor of a cutting smirk.

Chiana once again resisted the urge to punch something. Don't agree with her, she chided herself. Never agree with her. Agreeing with her always means something's not right.

"Okay..." With evident difficulty, Jool forced her voice to adopt a more compassionate tone. "Crichton said you had a hard time after you left Moya. I'm sorry to hear that. I am. Really." For a single wonderful moment, Chiana was genuinely comforted by the Interion's concern. Then she went on – "But don't take it out on me!" – and the moment was gone, the reverie of solace shattered like so much cheap glass.

"I'M NOT!"

Exhausted by her unexpected explosion, she sagged against the wall, ignoring Jool's anxious squeaking over its age and the vital importance that it remained completely intact. "I just... I don't understand... why..." Eyes closed, she let the anger, the sadness, the frustration wash over her. "I don't... understand..." The words wouldn't come. Yeah, she could kick, kiss, or cry her way out of any situation... but just try asking her to talk her way out of one.

She felt a flurry of movement beside her as the Interion – apparently forgetting the fact that The Most Historically Important Wall In The Galaxy was not to be leaned on – settled beside her. "Chiana..." she said quietly, and suddenly it seemed that she was the one struggling to understand her feelings. "Do you still love D'Argo?"

The question caught her off-guard, and her complete failure to immediately decide on an answer unnerved her even more. In truth, she wasn't even sure if it was D'Argo's part in the mismatched pairing that so upset her. She wasn't sure of anything. All she knew was that it hurt to think about them. But then, that was the thing that confused her. It hurt to think about them. Not him. When she thought about him, she was pleased. Glad he was happy here. Relieved that he'd found peace. But when she thought of them, of the two of them... together... them...

"I want him to be happy," she said quietly, "I just..." She stopped, a sad smile briefly touching her lips as she felt Jool's arms slide around her waist, forgiving and empathetic. "Just... don't..." The word resounded in her head; so final... so pointless.

"Don't what?" Jool's arms tightened around her, almost urgently. Chiana opened her eyes, and was surprised to find a morose anxiety in the Interion's gaze that matched her own. "Chiana?" Her voice was low, though the Nebari couldn't tell whether it was more a product of frustration, or anticipation. "Don't what?"

"Let go." She closed her eyes again. "Don't… let go."

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End
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