Originally posted 4/24/06
I've been working on another fic and kind of hit a brick wall (mostly due to being sick, tired, and overworked, LOL), so I was really glad that the muses decided to hand me this over the weekend. It is not to be construed as "canon" for any of my future universes, but more a look at how J&A's relationship might age. (And I'm sorry about D'Argo, the muses insisted....)
Rating: G
Setting: the future, some 35 cycles after PKW
Spoilers: through PKW
Disclaimer -- not my characters, not my universe, no money being made....
I hope you enjoy this little mood piece.
ETA: Ooops! Forgot to thank Loco, Shipsister, and the rest of the Bunnies for encouragement and a sanity check!
Age Before Beauty
Aeryn watched from a distance as John tossed a football around with their grandson, Jeran, who had lived with them for most of his eight cycles. He was a clever and energetic child, with an easy smile hiding a quick temper that was no doubt inherited from her. Jeran's brown hair blew in the wind as he pulled his arm back to return the ball to his grandfather. Sometimes, as right now, the boy looked so much like D'Argo that it made her heart ache, even though time had lessened the pain of losing her firstborn so young.
D'Argo. She sighed wistfully.
Unlike the warrior whose name he had borne, his death had been pointless, as accidental deaths always were. D'Argo and his mate had perished in the crash of a public transport on Fibril, but their infant son had been one of the few survivors. Aeryn and John had only just been getting used to being alone again, with the last of D'Argo's siblings finally out of the house and beginning their own lives, but there had been no question of fostering their tiny grandson anywhere else. Taking Jeran into their home had given both of them something to hold onto, a reason to keep looking forward after yet another blow from capricious fate.
Aeryn shook her head to banish the painful memory and turned her attention to her mate, her husband, the man she'd bonded herself to nearly 35 cycles before. She shaded her eyes with one hand and watched him. He was only a little older now than his father, Jack, had been the one time they had visited earth. John complained that he was getting old, but she thought that was more form than substance, because in rare moments of honesty on the subject, he'd confessed that if he were back on earth, he'd be showing a lot more signs of age. He put it down to the more advanced medical technology available out here, far from where he'd been born, slowing down the aging process some. Oh, he had some aches and pains, and wrinkles on his forehead, and he squinted when he wanted to read.... But then, his eyesight had always been deficient, she snickered quietly, still watching the pair out on the lawn.
No, back on earth, he wouldn't be more or less keeping up with a boy of eight. Back on earth, he'd have been breathing hard half an arn ago. More superficially, there would be more lines on his face, and his hair would probably be that striking gray that his father had....
Hmmm.... She looked at him carefully, noting the gray streaks in his hair, trying to picture him with a full head of silver hair. Probably she'd see it one day, though she refused to look too far into the future for fear of tempting fate.
John caught sight of her then and waved, and she grinned and waved back at him. Jeran snagged a bad pass, and yelled, "Did you see that, Grandma?" His face was full of pride, and she called in reply, "Well done!"
She let herself drift back in time, seeing John with D'Argo as a boy. Football games were played on Moya in those days, not outside on a green lawn. John's face had been smoother, his muscles a bit firmer.... Chasing after four children had never seemed to tire him, and his energy had seemed boundless.
Not, she thought with a grin, that there'd been anything wrong with his stamina last night.... She allowed herself a few microts of remembered pleasure.
She suspected, sometimes, that because she carried fewer outward signs of aging, John worried she was going to lose interest in him as a lover one day.
Males. She snorted.
Always so touchy about their supposed physical prowess....
She let her vision shift back and forth through time, seeing John as he'd been when they were first married, and as he was now. Yes, all right, he'd been handsomer then. A bit thinner, too, though truth be told, he wasn't the only one in the relationship who had gained a little weight over the cycles of peace!
But she didn't really even have to think about it: she wouldn't want to go back to those days, no, not even for the joy of having D'Argo alive again, the chance to hug her boy one more time.
Those had been good days, happy days, and she would treasure them as long as she lived. She was sure John felt the same way.
But marriage and motherhood had weighed heavily on her in the early cycles, no matter how much she'd wanted them – she'd been so unprepared. And John – all the pain and stress and guilt of the time they'd spent on the run, the deaths they'd caused, the destruction, intentional or not, had weighed on
him. What an odd pair they'd made, each of them with little of their own past left for comfort, and only each other to lean on.
Oh, they'd been there for each other, and been good for each other, even then. But time had given each of them a greater measure of peace and comfort in their own hearts, which, in turn, had given them that much more to give. The man who was out on the lawn right now, no doubt hoping Jeran would tire of the game soon so he could quit and go inside for some fellip nectar, was a man who
liked himself.
That was worth a few wrinkles, and a few gray hairs, his
or hers! She ran her fingers absently through hair that she still wore hanging loosely over her shoulders, because the man she loved still loved to play with it.
John saw her motion, and called a halt to the game. He and Jeran walked over to her in companionable silence, Jeran tossing the ball back and forth between his small hands.
"Frell," John muttered, shaking his head, when the boy had rushed inside to get a cold drink. "I'm getting too old for this!"
Aeryn grinned at the love of her life, and cupped his cheek with her hand. "No, you're not," she told him. "Age before beauty, isn't that what you always say?"
"That's just something old people say to make themselves feel better."
She shook her head, absolutely certain she was right on this one. "No, it's not, it's the truth."
He searched her eyes for a microt, and then leaned in and kissed her, deeply. When they came up for air, he said with a chuckle, "How fair is it that you've got age
and beauty, hmmm?"
"No one ever said life was fair."
"Amen to that." John shook his head, but he smiled even so.
She gave him a quick kiss, and teased, "Come on then, old man, let's go get you something to drink!"
"I can still whup your ass!"
"You could
never 'whup my ass'!"
Bickering comfortably, they headed into the house.
Author
