Wait for Daylight

Soft breathing, regular and rhythmic. A quiet wisp of a touch to her back; is it real? Aeryn gently opens her eyes to take in her surroundings, at the same time attempting to shield them from the unwelcome presence of light. To her surprise, she is just where she had laid herself the previous evening.

It seems like so long ago.

Like days ago, and it has only been arns.

John had come in to their quarters to finally get a bit of much needed rest at some point during the sleep cycle, but she isn't sure she knows when, or if she had even woke to his presence. All she remembers is a night of fitful sleep and garish dreams that mingled with reality.

Dreams of everything that could go wrong. Dreams spurred by anxiety over the future yet lined with a soft glow of hope that made them almost torturous.

Aeryn Sun isn't prone to worry, but she has forgotten how to turn that switch off sometime over the course of the last several cycles.

She rolls on her side, gently sliding John's hand off of her back so she can get a better view of his face, so peaceful in sleep. He doesn't look his age, always commenting that space is "obviously good for his complexion," but even he has begun to show signs of growing older, the unbearable stress they have faced over the past several cycles working its way to the surface.

Fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead; lines that never used to be present, lingering around his easy smile. His brown hair speckled with several pieces of gray here and there.

She reaches over and softly grazes his face with the back of her fingers, sometimes feeling the need to assure herself that he is really there. She strokes his cheek, up and down, and he gently shifts position. He's still deep in the throws of sleep and she isn't sure how long it's been since he's gotten any.

She, however, can't stay in bed any longer. Her mind is working overtime, processing information, tactics, ways to get in and out without being spotted; without getting hurt, or killed.

She sits up and pulls both hands through long hair, trying to get the dark mane under control before she attempts to crawl across John.

A deep breath and a quick stretch of the back and she is up and over him without even prompting a grunt. She may be getting older but she's still agile and lean, capable of more than she might appear to be. She softly patters to the wash chamber to shower and clean up.

The floor is cool on her feet and she welcomes the change in temperature and the waking effect it brings with it as it slowly travels up her body.

Aeryn quickly shucks off the boxer shorts she has claimed from her husband and the signature black tank that is like a second skin so she can climb under the stream of cool water waiting to finally wash the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

She lets the spray run over her, wash away some of the anxiety and unwelcome fear. Confidence is her ally and she needs it more now than ever, and she has one purpose in her life right now. To be a mother and a wife, a protector, to fight for them. She was never raised for this, never prepared for it, but she is determined to do it to the best of her ability. She owed that to herself, to her people, and to her family. She would make right this wrong that had fallen on them, frell if fate would get the best of Aeryn Sun.

Frenzied thoughts run rampant through her mind.

Tactical maneuvers, strategies and flight plans, holding her daughter next to her chest, her soft skin and sparkling eyes, a little girl; she never had the chance to raise her little girl. Eyes shut, water drumming on her back, she doesn't even notice the presence of someone else in the small room until John has opened the door and she feels the chill sweep over her body.

Luke warm water mixing with cool air, she shivers and the chill mixes with the warmth spreading from inside as she sees John hurry to take off his shorts and open the partition to join her.

"Morning baby…" he mumbles through a yawn. He's still mostly asleep but there are parts of him that are very much awake and the sight of him naked and ready in front of her makes her feel week.

"Good morning…" she whispers back, snaking her arm through his and wrapping it around his back. She greets him with a kiss and pulls him closer under the water. She can't take her eyes off of the muscles in his chest, on his arms; tight skin that is quickly covered with tiny droplets of clear water.

"I have missed you." He quietly brushes past her ear. "Feels like it's been a long time since I've seen you…too long."

She can't help but smile; the years have been nothing if not glue to them. The longer she's with him, the harder it is to be apart for even small amounts of time. And the fact that he brought this up, knowing they had seen each other awake yesterday, even if was early, just cements the fact in her mind. He feels it too.

"I've missed you too, though I haven't missed your mouth," she kids. "Stop talking, John."

Aeryn moves her hands slowly over his chest, brushing the water downwards where her fingers come to rest softly on his hips, pulling him closer. She doesn't need to talk right now, doesn't want to talk. They've done enough talking about plans and strategies over the past 24 arns.

Right now, she just needs him close to her.

Closer, always closer.

She looks up to his eyes, those frelling blue eyes she never gets tired of looking at. They are full of hunger, need, and laughter. They are full of her.

Aeryn slides her hands up the sides of his chest, slowly, making note of each grove of a rib, teasing skin, under his arms and around his back, where she draws him in for another kiss. Harder this time, tongues dueling and teeth nipping. Breathing faster, she can feel his heat and hardness between them pressing against her stomach already.

She moves her mouth to his biceps, around his shoulders. Teasing and licking off small, cool droplets of water. The taste mingles with the taste of his skin, sweet and salty. She feels him shudder against her as he tightens his grip and pulls her roughly closer. He's ready, but she's not. She needs this to be slow. She needs this time, needs it to last just a little bit longer.

She pushes back, just slightly, far enough to leave him exposed so she can take him in. Desperate to have him close, but even more desperate to make this last. She meets his eyes again, not moving, not talking.

They breathe each other in and hungrily memorize every inch of one another for the millionth time.

She reaches behind her back, never taking here eyes off of him, to grab the cloth and soap. His hair is plastered to his forehead, pink scar glistening on his left temple, and she can't stand another second of distance between them.

She lathers the cloth and begins to wash his chest, his arms. Rubbing slowly, carefully, one hand with the cloth and one hand bare. She moves her bare hand up behind his head to pull his lips down to hers again. Softer kisses, sweeter and more probing. She moves up the side of his face to the scar where she stops for only a microt longer, lingering there with a little more attention as he buries his head in her neck, lips moving, tasting, looking for places unexplored.

His mouth can't seem to get enough of her. His hands are needy and grasping. He's having a hard time holding back now and she knows she's driving him crazy, but she doesn't mind.

"God I love you…" John growls, hands on her chest reclaiming territory that has been his for as long as she can remember. Her nipples throb as he works them over with his hands first, and then his mouth. One after the other, he is everywhere he can possibly be. Hands rough on her back, pressing muscles under skin, rubbing and needing.

Aeryn looks down at the top of his head and kisses his hair softly before bringing it back up level to her own with one finger under his chin. Foreheads touching, lips micro-denches from one another. Time standing still, silence, no sound beyond heavy breathing, drumming hearts, and the rhythmic pounding of water on bare skin.

She finally comes to the point where she needs him inside her like she needs oxygen to survive.

She takes his lips in her own with a hard kiss punctuated with a smack and she firmly grabs his hands and moves them back to her breasts as she moves her own to his hips positioning him where she needs him to be.

He's ready, he can't hold on any longer. He quickly moves his hands to her hips and pulls her towards him lifting her slightly, her back resting on the cool wall, until he feels she's at the perfect position and quickly sheaths himself inside of her. Neither move for a microt, savoring the familiar feel of being one, forehead on forehead. He throbs inside of her, blood racing, and she clenches around him inadvertently.

John drops his head back and groans her name, low and rough gripping her sides even more firmly and begins to move quickly inside of her.

She's hanging on by a thread already and grabs on to his back tighter, nails on skin, her mouth and teeth on his shoulder. She clenches around him in rhythm with his thrusts, louder, longer, faster and before she knows what's happening they go over the edge together, mixed cries, and week knees. He yells her name and she stifles her cries in the crook between his neck and his shoulder.

Breathing in to him, breathing him in.

Sweat and water, staggered breath and the warmth of him inside of her.

She rubs his back slowly, smoothing over the marks she was sure her nails have made as he softly rubs his hands down the back of her wet hair.

They slowly come down together, still joined. One more soft kiss to the lips, to the cheeks, the eyes. Whispered 'I love yous.' Soft, tender strokes on heated skin, breathing becoming more steady and knees becoming less shaky. He wraps his arms around her and she leans into him.

"Baby, you are so much better than coffee; I don't care if it's straight out of Columbia," John laughs into her ear. She knows coffee; she remembers it from the time on Earth. Bitter and foul tasting, she's not sure how he means what he says, but she can tell by the tone of his voice that, in his mind, this is a good thing.

She smiles as he slides out of her, letting the water patter on his bare chest. She bends over to pick up the cloth and soap that she'd lost track of somewhere in the middle of their recreation. He takes full advantage of the opportunity and smacks her softly on the back side.

"I'm hungry, where's my breakfast!" he jokes.

He's in a good mood, thoroughly frelled and ready to find his daughter. She can't help but laugh, drawing from his drive, from his tenderness.

"I believe that the last time I cooked you breakfast, you spent the next five arns complaining of a stomach ache like a child. Wait, on second thought, I take that back; even our children complain less than you did on that day," she laughs as she washes her arms and shoulders with the rough cloth.

"That's just because they're scared of you, woman! You should hear them complain behind your back," he ribs with a mock serious tone. She laughs as she hands him the cloth so he can use it and she can wash her hair.

"We should tell them what's going on." she states with hesitation after a quiet pause, changing the light tone to a more serious one. "They deserve to know, especially D'Argo. He's old enough to be involved now."

John's scrubbing his stomach and rinsing his hair at the same time. Light hitting his face, his eyes sparkle under the water, defiance brimming beneath the surface as he picks up on the meaning behind her words.

"He's not a soldier, Aeryn; we didn't raise him to be a soldier. He's had hardly any training. He's not coming with us." His tone is firm, adamant. But she doesn't shy away from the challenge.

"He's a better shot than you are half the time." She chides, anger burning coolly behind her eyes. She's ready for this fight, if it goes that direction.

"Hey, I have gotten so much better," he rubs his chin, turning off the water and grabbing a drying cloth to wrap around her body and another for her hair, finally one for himself.

"He doesn't have to carry a pulse pistol John, but he could help. He's fast and he knows what he's looking for. He's been trained on tactical situations."

"But he's never been in one," he cuts her off. "Do you realize what you're saying?"

"If I recall, you had never been in one until you landed in the middle of space, space which you were totally unfamiliar with," she backfires. "He's been raised around this. We've studied it. He knows Peacekeeper military strategy almost as well as I do. He would be an asset to us, John, increase our chances tenfold. We also need someone ready and waiting in the transport pod to get us the frell away from the planet if things go badly; even if they go good."

"It would also increase our chances of losing another one of our children," he states looking down.

So this is what it is about.

"It's not your fault." she says reaching out and stroking his cheek. "D'Argo is a man now. It's time he was put in situations where he learned how to live outside of the confines of what we have here on Moya and the small villages we stop in."

Aeryn's right and he knows it. The boy turned 16 four months ago. He would be leaving them soon, and needed to know how to defend himself in a real situation; away from them. It was a crazy universe and no one was more familiar with being thrust into it head first and naked than he was. He didn't want to turn around one day and find his son in that same situation.

"We'll go over everything with him, every little detail, there won't be any surprises," she states softly. "We need his help, John. We need all the help we can get. This is it."

He knows she's right, but accepting the fact that he might let his son walk out into a situation like the one they'll be in is somewhat unnerving to him. D' is a man now, they can't shelter him forever. Something she knows John feels like he needs to do with these kids on occasion when his mind wanders back to some of the horrible things he's been through and seen since he found himself here.

"He's an adult, we'll tell him and we'll let him decide," Aeryn states calmly, which brings a nod from John.

He smiles at her, kissing her nose and she knows that she's found a temporary solution, a neutral ground, that he'll be okay with for the time being.

D'Argo is growing up, and sheltering him from the harshness of the universe isn't an option to her. He needs to learn how to fend for himself in any situation, and this would be their first chance to show him that there is always the possibility for things to go very badly, very quickly.

She watches her husband's back as he steps out of the small alcove into their quarters, pulls out fresh shorts, and steps into them one foot at a time. Several drops of water still linger on his back. She moves from her perch in the door frame and walks up behind him, rubbing his back, wiping away the few remaining drops and kissing his shoulder. He straightens to his full height and turns to pull her in.

"I love you, you know that," she says, more a statement than a question.

"I love you; more than anything," He kisses her softly, slowly, before pulling his black shirt over his head, a task that she helps complete.

"I'm gonna talk to Pilot, see if we're in range to contact Jothee. Time to get this show on the road before we think too much. Before I think too much," He rubs his hand roughly through his hair several times, and she feels the small droplets of moisture hit her face as his hair falls into its normal position. A quick kiss on the lips and he is out the door before she can wrap a thought around half of what's just happened. An arn into the morning and she already feels like they've been awake for days.

She turns around and towels her wet hair, trying to squeeze the remaining water loose from the long tendrils before she pulls an undershirt over her head. She runs the drying brush through her hair several times, trying to calm the curls that tend to show themselves when she's in a hurry, overly warm, or her hair is not quite dry, and within several more microts she's heading out of their quarters as well. Prepared to embark on this journey again.

Aeryn starts down the corridor, breathing in the cool air of early morning and mentally preparing to talk to her son about the situation that has unfolded in the past 24 arns.

She's apprehensive of his reaction; it has been so long since they've run this race. She hopes that he still carries the same steely resolve to protect his sister that he had all those cycles ago as a small boy. She knows that, if he does, they will be able to pull this off somehow. John, her, and D'argo together will be a force to be reckoned with when it comes to this girl.

She makes her way down the corridor to her son's quarters, quietly palming the door pad when she arrives at her destination. It's still early, and the only sounds she hears on the massive ship are the whirring of some DRD's and the quite lull of engine hum. The room is dark and she slowly raises the light level, just high enough to keep her from colliding with something. D'Argo is already up and out of the room, probably already at the exercise bay.

When he turned 12, he had realized that girls didn't have some sort of incurable disease, but he still didn't particularly like them. At 14, he decided that maybe they weren't so bad after all; at least to look at. And now at 16, the thought of his latest planet side female prospects never left his mind for long and he is usually up as early as possible trying to put some meat on his lean muscles. He is tall and slowly developing a frame very similar to his father's. He wouldn't have to work hard to become equally as strong, if not more so.

Jack on the other hand, is still curled into the corner of his bunk, stuffed toy clutched in one arm and the other thrown haphazardly above his small head. His blonde hair is wild and sheets are strewn across the bed.

The small DRD is sitting motionless at the foot of his bunk as it always does during the sleep cycle, when they can get the child to sleep, that is. He has more energy than he knows what to do with. She has no idea where the unending supply comes from, but it is invigorating to her in a way that she never imagined it could be.

She sits gently on the edge of the boys' bed, straightening the sheets and she rests an arm over his body, hand settling on his other side so she's at the perfect position to brush his messy hair out of his eyes and whisper a quiet good morning in his ear. He barely stirs, small fists rubbing at his eyes, rolling reluctantly over to face her.

"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living today," she kids, mussing his hair a bit more.

Jack is not awake enough to speak, but in the times that they're alone she still gets to enjoy him as her baby boy. He's not concerned about his brother or his father seeing him cling to his mother and he is lax with his feelings and his affection. She relishes those times. He lifts his head and rests it on her lap, and she kisses him softly.

"Time to get up. Go help Gran with breakfast and then we need to go over your lessons for the day," she says, still in a quiet voice as to not shake him too harshly out of his slumber.

He groans quietly, curling tightly, stretching tired muscles and little limbs. She grasps him under his arms and lifts him to a sitting position and he leans into her hugging tightly to her chest.

"Come on Mom, can't I work on my model today? I did a lot of work yesterday; and besides I learn more when I work by myself." This is her son, constantly trying to get out of his lessons so he can focus on something that seems more interesting to him.

"Not today, Jack; I let you out of a day last weeken and look where it got us," she chides remembering the mess that she and John were left to clean up when he decided he needed some real fuel for one of his models. He had a good scolding that day, spending the rest of it on his bed with no toys and no holographic games. They however, spent the next 4 arns smelling of fuel and flight, cleaning up a mess that was worthy of an entire flight squadron, not a 7 cycle old child.

"Up you go. Come on," He slowly makes his way out of his warm cocoon of pillows and sheets, and she gently pats his back side as he stands.

"Go wash your face and grab a dentic. I WILL check your mouth later; don't think for a microt that I won't," she states. Her youngest son is notorious for his dislike of hygiene. It remains a constant effort to get him in a bath, in fresh clothing, or to clean his mouth.

He wanders to the wash room connected to the quarters, and she is so proud of her little boy as he stumbles away from her. Still a somewhat new feeling that had arrived with the birth of her children and her relationship with John, she's not quite sure how to process it. He has blond hair and deep, gray eyes full of mischief. He's tall for his age, yet still barely taller than her hip, and he fumbles with lanky limbs. His body is growing, but it can't figure out if it wants to go about it proportionately or not.

Aeryn stands with a deep breath, taking in her sons' quarters, the eldest keeping his half neat and orderly, as the youngests' is scattered with toys and module parts, drawings and books.

Motherhood is a mystery to her still. How can they have two children who are so incredibly different, yet both springing from her and John? She picks up a drawing, a picture of a ship; she thinks must be Moya, drawn as neatly as possibly with seven cycle old hands. She sees four figures that she assumes represent her family and feels a tug at her chest that he'll possibly be drawing the picture again, with five figures instead of just four. The way it should have been from the beginning.

"Who I am hates who I've been"

A half an arn later and she has her youngest son dressed, fed, and well on his way to being thoroughly frelling bored with his lesson.

Aeryn leaves him in the mess quarters with Noranti so she can find D'Argo and ask him the question that is weighing heavily on her mind.

John's as well. She doesn't need words from his mouth to know the thought of D' coming along on this bit of personal recon shakes the very foundation of his feelings towards his children and fatherhood. She can't deny the fact that, as much as she never expected it; as much is it goes against everything she was raised to believe, she shares a sense of his hesitation.

D'Argo is her baby; he is her first, the first child to show her that she was capable of being more than a soldier or a breeding machine devoid of feelings. The first child to show her what it felt like to be a mother loving her baby, a part of her.

She feels confused, confused and angry. An anger she hasn't felt for a long time, one that she knows she doesn't really mean, yet a flame that burns deep in her heart.

A flame that rages at rare times, something she can't control.

Frelling human emotions taking over when they shouldn't even be an issue.

She can feel the flush warming her face. None of this would even be happening to her if it weren't for John. She wouldn't be struggling with these feelings of love, wouldn't be struggling with making this life work. She would be a soldier, a pilot, and everything would make sense. It wouldn't be this frelling pile of dren that she has no way, no real sense of navigating around. If he had never come stumbling into her life, she would be in control of her destiny and it sure as hezmana wouldn't have turned out like this.

Aeryn Sun, Peacekeeper Soldier, wouldn't have any emotional ties. She would have played it safe, stayed on the straight and narrow moving her way up until she was the best damn PK prowler pilot on detail.

She stops in the middle of the corridor she's navigating and leans against a bulkhead feeling week as she realizes the thoughts that are spinning through her mind. Thoughts that she hasn't drudged up for cycles.

Guilt, the feelings are compounded with guilt.

She loves John more than life itself. She wouldn't give up even one microt of their time together, and can't imagine going on without him. She loves her children more than anything in the universe. She can't imagine recreation without that deep love and connection any more.

She can't imagine recreating for the purpose of making a life that you would never be involved with, never see grow or lose a tooth, smile and laugh, take a first step or fall and scrape a knee. Can't imagine bringing a life into the universe and never getting to see who that person would grow to become, never having the chance to protect them or show them how to point a pulse pistol knowing that you were showing them how to survive. It had become more than just an act now, more than just a release, and she couldn't go back to feeling the way she had before.

Aeryn sighs as she carelessly rubs her forehead. She can't imagine her life without her sons and her husband. And she's angry again, angry at herself now, for even letting those long buried thoughts claw their way to the surface. She roughly pulls her hair back in a tie and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes from the harsh golden light of the corridor, determination renewed.

This is her life, this is who she has chosen to become, and she loves this life and her family.

Frell the way things were before, none of it matters now. She will see her daughter grow into a woman.

She has become more than what she was, and she will be the best at what she is.

Before she can focus on the rest of this task though, she needs to speak with her son. She needs to know if he is ready. Ready and willing to be their ally in this battle, if it comes to that.

The first battle he will face in his life, though she knows it won't be the last. And at least if it does come to that this time around, she and John will be there with him and he won't be out there in the universe somewhere alone.