She was clutching the wash basin until the molding along its fixtures left indentations in her hands. Certain that she had nothing left in her stomach she dry heaved until the back of her throat burned with bile. She spit into the basin, the smell of stale water and fresh bile instigating another spasm in her gut. She rinsed her mouth out and tried to stand up straight, but she'd been at this the better part of a solar day. She gave in as another pain took her. She found herself on all fours next to the basin, gagging and cursing. Her hips ached, her back rebelled in pain refusing to hold her upright. She felt like someone was trying to reach up through her center and remove her intestines. From somewhere far away, she heard a voice. She rested her head against the cool metal of the basin, not certain why it felt so good.
"C'mon Sun, shake it off." That would be Praetor, she thought. Yes, Praetor. She recognized the edge to the voice, the impatience.
"Frell off," she spat back at him, before more pain took her. She felt blood hitting the floor between her bare knees. My blood, she thought. My blood. She struggled to her feet and swayed with the pain. Sometimes the swaying helped. This wasn't one of those times. All she wanted to do was lay down and sleep. A good long sleep cycle and then a duty shift in her Prowler. That's all she had ever wanted, her Prowler, her unit, her uniform. They were the only important things in life…the other women had told her to close her eyes and cling to what was important. In her mind she clung to the stars, the smooth metal of the controls, the other voices of her unit in her head…she felt a surge of energy and promptly leaned over and puked on Praetors mirror shined boots.
She was leaning over the receptacle before she was even fully awake, the contents of her stomach sliding slowly down the drain. She wondered briefly if stomach acid counted as a corrosive, but decided she would hear about it from Pilot later if it were. She rinsed her mouth out, pausing as she heard gagging sounds coming from down the corridor in Crichton's chamber. She shook her head, then adjusted her ponytail deciding that since she was up anyway, she might as well go check on him. She'd barely made it to the door before she felt the familiar wetness at the back of her throat and she found herself rushing in the other direction, jumping across her bed and burying her head in the basin.
"Well, this is just disgusting," she thought as she took another moment to collect herself. Sebaceans were a hardy species, not prone to stomach ailments, and even if they were, she hadn't had any of the placa seeds that were causing Crichton his fair amount of discomfort tonight. She frowned in thought. She hadn't vomited like this in several cycles, not since…well, not since any time she cared to think about.
She snapped her pulse pistol into place and passed a hand over the locking mechanism at her door, pausing a moment at the suspicious rumblings in her stomach. They subsided and she padded barefoot down to Crichton's quarters.
She found him in his boxers hunched over his own wash basin, sweat pouring down his back, his hands barely supporting his weight as he gagged and sputtered. She paused at his door, uncertain what she should do.
"You should lay down," she finally called out.
He turned his head to look at her, one watery blue eye peeking out at her from under his arm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then turned and slid into a sitting position.
"Aeryn, I'm going to die." His voice was scratchy and rough.
She moved forward and tried to pull him to his feet. "No, you're not. You just wish you would. Now, come on, shake it off and get back into bed."
"….Can't….move…" he whispered at her. "Besides, it too far back to the sink."
"There's nothing left in you to come out. You're just wasting your strength sitting here like this. " She planted her bare feet on top of his, grabbed his hands and pulled, leveraging him into a standing position. "You'll be fine by this time tomorrow, now come on, lay down." She pivoted him and pushed him back on the bed, arranging a pillow under his head.
"I don't think Zhaan's potion worked," he mumbled, turning to curl into a ball.
"No," Aeryn replied, planting herself in a chair, "Just imagine how bad you'd feel if it hadn't." John groaned in reply.
Aeryn watched him toss and turn for a couple of arns, wondering why she had even thought it was a good idea to sleep in her own quarters tonight. When he finally dozed off into a fitful and sweaty sleep, she managed to put her own head back and close her eyes.
She had been told "for all you endure, you will be made stronger for it". Somehow the words weren't very comforting as she was bleeding and puking, her whole body aching in pain. Somewhere in the middle of what would have been her sleep cycle, and probably shortly after she puked on his shoes, Praetor had been replaced with the silent Karanda. He said little, handing her water, a cool wash cloth, and holding the med techs at bay as the situation warranted. His silent presence was more comforting than the grating Praetor. She continued to grind her teeth against the pain. Her legs were starting to shake when the med tech managed to slip in the door while Karanda had gone to relieve himself. She was young and inexperienced and hesitated at seeing the soldier alone.
Aeryn looked up from where she crouched against the bunk, grunting at the peak of the pain. When it passed she focussed hateful eyes on the med tech. "Don't frelling touch me!" She managed to spit out before another pain took her. She heard the soft drop of more blood hitting the floor. When she stood up she could feel it on her legs. The loose gown she wore was spotted with it. She could smell it. It made her gag again and she rushed to the basin just in time to heave up what little water she had managed to swallow.
The tech took another step towards her, uncertain of the situation. A soldiers unit was her support, companionship, her strength in all things. Then here was this one…alone. "It's almost time," the tech said, trying to be comforting.
Aeryn slowly turned towards her, head raised, watching her out of the corner of her eye. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder, gritted her teeth against another wave of pain that threatened to bring her to her knees and spat out "I'll tell you when it's frelling time!"
The tech turned as the door to the medical chamber opened and another Peacekeeper entered. He looked at her with only slightly less distaste than Officer Sun had. "Clean her up or leave," was all he said.
The tech bowed her head and nodded. Taking some cloths from a shelf, she wet them and quickly and efficiently wiped down Officer Sun's thighs, ankles, and the tops of her feet where the blood had spattered. Taking a fresh cloth, she wiped it quickly over the other woman's face and refastened her hair. She threw a larger towel over the puddles and droplets on the floor, scooping everything up into one bundle and depositing it quickly into the linen receptacle next to where Officer Karanda stood. She left a clean gown on the bunk, it's red contrasting brightly with the gray bed linens.
"If she wants to change later," the tech said as she slipped back out the door, "but it won't be too much longer now."
The pain was constant now and it took all of Aeryn's concentration to keep from crying out. She hadn't wanted this. All she had wanted was to be lost in the stars, lost in the ranks, nameless, faceless, fearless. She squatted with her back against the wall for support and gestured wildly for Karanda to come forward. He moved towards her and she reached up and gripped him tightly, "Help me lean."
She could smell chakon oil on him as she leaned into him. She found it comforting. Cling to the familiar. Cling to the familiar. She was grunting against the pain again and felt the nausea welling up in her. "Basin," was all she managed to get out as pain and spasms took her over. Her hips felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. She felt something inside of her shift and there was a fresh gush down her thighs.
Aeryn sat bolt upright in her chair, eyes wild for the few microts it took her to reorient herself. John was sleeping, a fine sheen of sweat across his brow, an arm flung over his eyes. She splashed some water on her face, disturbed by her dream. She hadn't thought about that day in ages. She made it a point not to think about that day.
Satisfied John was sleeping peacefully she made her way back to her quarters to finish dressing. With Zhaan ailing, Stark down on the planet, and now with Crichton laid up for the day, she couldn't afford the luxury of a leisurely morning, not that she ever did anyway. Just the past week had found her dallying with Crichton in the morning, and he was in no shape for anything right now.
She pulled on her boots, refastened her hair, and found a clean tank top. D'Argo would be looking for her soon, to help him with some maintenance in one of Moya's neural clusters. She wanted to help Zhaan move her few belongings into new quarters. Aeryn ticked off her to do list in her head as she moved down the corridor towards the central chamber.
She ran a hand over Moya's scarred bulkhead as she passed through one of her charred sections. It seemed firmer than the last time she had been through here. Aeryn smiled to herself, satisfied that at least something looked like it was going right for them. She stopped, her smile fading. Her stomach was lurching and she had suddenly become very aware of the smell of Moya's charred flesh. She looked wildly around her and found what had once been a "sink" as John called it. She spit a few times into it before collecting herself. "Well that's just frelling odd," she thought as she made her way into one of Moya's healthy corridors.
D'Argo joined her in the central chamber a short time later, pausing at the door to sniff the air first.
"O frell off D'Argo, I bathed last night," she said without looking up from her plate.
"No," he said, moving closer, "There's something else."
He picked up his own plate of food cubes and sat across from her, still sniffing slightly.
"We've got work to do D'Argo. We don't have time for your olfactory hallucinations."
D'Argo ate his food, his face still showing signs of puzzlement. "It's familiar. I can't put my finger on it…"
Aeryn sighed as she stood up. "We've been sharing space for nearly 3 cycles, of course I smell familiar by now. Now let's go so I can get back and check on Crichton before the midday meal."
D'Argo shrugged, picking up the food cubes in one massive hand to eat on the way to the access shaft. He was certain there was something…
By the fourth day Aeryn was certain there was something, too. She looked tired and haggard. She felt like dren and it had been impossible to keep anything, solid or liquid, down. She spent more time inspecting the bottom of various waste receptacles around the ship than anything else. She had managed to disguise her illness from most of the crew by dedicating herself to finding and solving the back wash problem. But Crichton was getting suspicious.
He had spent the first night still in his own quarters, sleeping off the retched effects of the placa seeds. The second night he had expected her to accompany him after the last meal but she had begged off claiming Pilot needed her to run a diagnostic from his chamber. He had looked confused, but hadn't pushed it. The next day, he had playfully pursued her, finally cornering her in an alcove of the cargo bay while she rooted through miscellaneous toolboxes. He had gone away hurt when she snapped at him and he hadn't bothered to seek her out the rest of the day. She hung a privacy curtain that night over her door and had held her breath as she heard his footstep pause, then continue on to his own chamber. She breathed a sigh of relief, but inside she longed for him to share her bed again. Something inside of her just didn't seem…right…without his constant companionship.
It had been a weeken since the first dream and her illness had not let up any. She was tired, gaunt. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep but she pushed on. She hoarded food in her quarters to snack on when no one was around so that when the inevitable regurgitation occurred, no one was the wiser for it. She scheduled her duties on command counter to Crichton's, hoping their opposite schedules would give her some breathing room. She knew she could count on his good graces only so long before he cornered her and demanded to know what was going on.
She was surprised when D'Argo joined her on command. He paused briefly to examine a control board and then sighed loudly.
"What's wrong, D'Argo," she asked, knowing already Crichton had sent him to test the waters. "Did Crichton send you?"
"No," he answered, surprising her again. "But he is concerned." Aeryn sensed there was something hanging in the air unsaid. She suspected she knew what it was. D'Argo wasn't stupid, and he had been married to a Sebacean. She was too tired and ill to play games.
"Have you told him?" She asked, still not bothering to turn and face the Luxan.
"So it's true then," she sensed him move closer to her and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "You hide the illness well."
Aeryn nodded but didn't say anything. She looked down at the comms board, but there was nothing to look at. If something had been out of the ordinary, Pilot would have already alerted her.
"If I hide it so well, how did you know?"
D'Argo sniffed in reply. "You smell like Lo'Lann when she conceived Jothee."
Aeryn almost chuckled to herself. Leave it to a Luxan to diagnose her with his nose.
"D'Argo, I trust I have your confidence in this?" she said, finally turning to face the enormous man.
D'Argo smiled broadly at her. "Well of course I would give you the opportunity to announce the news yourself. I'm not that much of a traznik." Then he saw the look in her eyes. The pain, the fear, the utter lack of joy. He frowned.
"You're not going to tell him, are you?" It was a statement.
"D'Argo, what am I supposed to say? Why should I play with his emotions like that? I've already done enough to him."
"I think he would welcome the news."
"Would you think for just one microt? We can't do this here. Now. How the frell am I supposed protect something that small for that long? I didn't have parents, I had trainers. I had a huge ship armed to the teeth. What do we have here?" She heard herself raising her voice but didn't care anymore. "We have a sick leviathan, a dying priest, and a father who's borderline insane."
She lowered her voice again, and comptemplated the toe of her boot, "D'Argo, I realize what I missed as a child, and I want that for my own. I can't do that here while we're like this. We have nothing to offer."
She felt his huge hand on her shoulder and it took all she had not to turn into his strength. "What you have," he said, close to her ear, "is family."
She wanted to cry as she heard his heavy footsteps recede. She wanted to scream and rage. She longed for her Prowler as she watched the stars in their infinite stability before her. Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt the familiar tingling in the back of her throat and rushed out of command to the main chamber and the closest waste receptacle.
She passed Crichton in the corridor by their quarters. He reached out to her and she flinched away from his touch, steeling herself against him, knowing she would not be able to do what needed to be done if she let herself find solace in his arms again. The hurt expression on his face, the worry in his eyes cut at her, but she held firmly to her plan.
"Crichton, I'm tired." She didn't look at him. She realized how long it had been since she had called him by his family name and knew it had probably hurt him.
"Why are you avoiding me? What did I do to piss you off this time?" He backed up a couple paces so she would have to move around him.
"It's not you. It's me. Now let me go to bed."
"Jesus Christ, I get blown to the other side of the Universe, and some things just don't change. How many times have I heard that line? Is that some genetic imprint they give to all females?" Yes, she had hurt him. She could feel the pain masked by the sarcasm.
Aeryn shook her head at him, "I don't know what your talking about, but I don't want to talk about anything right now. I just want to sleep." She stepped around him and he moved to intercept her. She sighed and stood still, staring at the floor.
"What's wrong with you, Aeryn? I thought we'd already covered this ground." His voice was starting to rise in exasperation. She stepped to the left and he countered.
"Look, we can stand here all day and do the Peacekeeper two step, or we can talk."
Aeryn started to speak but her stomach heaved without warning and she found herself on her knees in the corridor inspecting the shine on Crichton's boots and thinking of an Officer she had known a lifetime ago named Praetor.
A second later Crichton was on the floor with her, his arm around her shoulders and a hand smoothing the stray hairs back from her forehead. When the spasms stopped he tried to help her to her feet but she shook off his hands, knowing he would notice how thin she had become in the past days. She kept her eyes cast down, knowing how dark they were with circles. Although her face had always been thin, she had noticed just this morning how the hollows of her cheeks had become gaunt.
"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" His voice had lost its edge and she wanted to melt into the concern she felt from his words. Instead she heaved a great sigh as she picked herself up and straightened her clothes.
"Because it's none of your concern. I'll be fine." Disoriented, she turned, trying to remember which direction she had been coming from and which way her quarters were.
Deciding on a direction, she brushed past Crichton. It was the wrong direction. He grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her 180, saying, "No, you need a bed." She knew Crichton would know just how sick she was getting, because for the first time in days she didn't have the strength to argue.