Revelations (PG)

This was originally posted September 28, 2002 at Kansas.

This is my second fic. Ever. John and Aeryn kept banging around in my head, even during all the dren of the last three weeks, demanding to be let out. So here they are.

This hasn't been beta read, but I've tried to make it readable. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Sorry about any mistakes.

And yes, now I do believe in serendipity. I finished this fic at least a week ago, except for some obsessive polishing. Right before I posted, I read imloco2's wonderful fic, Trust Me. NC-17; I couldn't resist. Not to spoil either hers or mine, all I can say is her muse must be letting my muse take notes. No contest as to who's the expert and who's the novice; hey I am grasshopper!

Setting: post UR; My take on what happens after Aeryn follows John through the wormhole, and finds him on earth. I've left the mechanics of how that happens to those more skilled than me.
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: the usual, I own nothing. Do you think we'd be in this fix if I did?

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Revelations

She had arrived quietly, climbing through one of the windows of the guest bedroom at the back of the house, as he and his Dad sat in the kitchen, catching up on four years of football. He had always told his Dad that he should keep the burglar alarm on, even when he was home . . . but maybe it was better that he hadn't.

Now they stood in the living room. He was at the fireplace, his eyes scanning the pictures on the mantle, turned away from her. She stood across the room from him, in the arched entryway, backlit by the light from the hallway. He struggled to maintain his air of detachment, to keep that look of disinterest on his face. He could do it without the drug now, but it was so much harder, especially with her so close. Reluctantly, he turned toward her.

"Why are you here, Aeryn?"

She willed herself not to focus on his expression; not to be concerned at the way he seemed to look right through her.

"I came to find you."

"Why?" There was a hint of urgency in his voice that seemed out of place with the flatness of his expression.

She restrained the urge to scream at him. To walk across the room and shake him until he focused on her, really looked at her.

"Because I need to be with you."

His eyes shifted, from looking through her to somewhere over her shoulder, then down to the floor. "You need to be with me? That's rich. Why now? Why has being with me suddenly made it to the top of your priority list?"

She took a step towards him. "I know you are angry with me John. I know I hurt you - when I left Moya, and when I came back and didn't tell you about the pregnancy. I've wanted to talk with you for a long time about both of those things; about the situation between us. Can we talk about that now?"

He did look at her then. "You want to talk? The elusive Aeryn Sun wants to talk with me? How did I become so special all of a sudden?"

She almost took a step back. He was deliberately taunting her; trying to push her into anger, and make discussion impossible. She realized with a start that he was afraid to talk to her. Afraid of what? That they would not be able to resolve the issues between them? Or that they would?

"John -" She started, then stopped, not sure what to say next. She studied the pattern on the rug for a few microts, then looked back up at him.

"John, I love you." She stared at him steadily, willing him to look at her. He raised his head and met her eyes, but this time said nothing. She took his lack of a comeback as a good sign, and moved a step closer.

"When I left -"

"Which time?" All sarcasm was drained from his voice now; replaced by . . . weariness? Or was it more, defeat?

"The last," she whispered. "When I left," she repeated, her voice a bit stronger, "I felt I had no choice. I had to get away, to be by myself, to sort everything out; to let go of him." The time away had accomplished what she hoped it would; she had grieved, and been able to let the other one go, finally. There was still pain; it was just more bearable now. No longer debilitating. Most of the time, she could remember him without tears. Thinking about his death brought tears, but not sobs. She accepted that the other one was her past. Her heart was now open to this John.

"And I did . . . I let go of him."

He looked down again at that, rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, Aeryn. I know we need to talk. I . . . I just can't do this right now."

"Then when?" She was starting to feel a little desperate. She was talking about the things she thought he would want to hear about, but he still was not responding to her.

"Tomorrow. I just need to get some sleep."

"Alright. Tomorrow." She wouldn't push him. He had taught her that much. She had expected this would take some time. She was prepared to give him how ever long he needed.

He turned then and walked out the door nearest the fireplace, down the hall and up the stairs.

She stood there alone for a few more microts, then turned and went through the archway, down the hallway in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.

Jack Crichton sat at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. After the surprise of her arrival had worn off, and they had exchanged brief introductions, he had left the two alone in the living room, while he returned to the kitchen. Far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough to help if his son needed him. Jack did not completely trust this alien friend of John's, although he had to admit that she was every bit as beautiful and intimidating as John had described.

He looked up as she entered the kitchen, and once again was impressed by her bearing, and the directness with which she looked at him.

"John . . . has . . . gone . . . to, to bed," she said carefully, practicing her english.

"You must be pretty tired yourself. Would you like to turn in now?" The puzzled look on her face alerted him to the fact that she had no idea what he meant.

"Turn in - it means go to bed."

"Oh . . . I'm . . . unsure . . . stay here? John? . . . might not want . . . me . . . to . . . ." The effort to speak his language was exhausting her. She wished she had some translator microbes to give Jack so that she could stop thinking about all those frelling words.

"You think John might not want you to stay here?" He was a little surprised. He had seen the relief sweep over her face when she first saw John, and how tenderly she dealt with him. John had seemed strangely unmoved by her presence, unimpressed by the effort she had made to find him. But Jack couldn't imagine John wouldn't want her to stay. Whatever was going on between these two, John would be crazy to let this one get away. Even if she was an alien. "Well, this is still my house, and I say you should stay. You can sleep in the girls' room upstairs; come on, I'll show you."

Aeryn wondered why they had a special room for females, but decided it would take too much effort to ask, and that she had probably misunderstood, anyway. She had little expectation that she would ever understand the subtleties of this language; she could only hope to master the basics.

She followed Jack up the stairs, and into a room with two single beds, decorated in bright, pastel colors with cheerful pictures of animals and smiling young people on the walls. Jack showed her the small bathroom through a door in the back of the room, and pulled open a drawer, suggesting that she could probably find something comfortable to wear that the girls had left there. This time he saw her forehead crinkle at the mention of the girls.

"The girls?" She nodded. "My daughters, John's sisters."

"Oh," she said, looking around the room with renewed interest; "mmm . . . pictures?"

"You want to see pictures of my daughters?"

Aeryn nodded, and Jack went over to a small shelf against one wall and picked up what she assumed was what John had once tried to describe to her as kind of like a holo, but flat. In the picture, a younger Jack was seated beside a smiling woman with John's eyes. A young woman stood on each side of the couple, interesting combinations of Jack and the woman beside him, with hints of John in their smiles and open faces. And there, standing between and behind Jack and the woman, was a smiling, younger John; a John several cycles younger than when she had first seen him on Moya.

Her breath caught in her chest to see that face again, the easy going smile, the absence of pain. She had almost forgotten how innocent he had been, how open to and eager for every new experience. How trusting. How she had been both intrigued and annoyed by his endless curiosity, and ability to see solutions to seemingly impossible dilemmas. The face she had first fallen in love with, before she even understood what love was.

Jack watched her stare at the photo, watched as a look of wonder came over her face; a look so tender and loving that he lost all suspicion of her. Then the tears slowly came, and Jack wondered why a ten year old picture of his family would cause her to cry. "Aeryn?" he said quietly, "you ok?"

She nodded, then shook her head. She turned and sat down heavily on one of the beds, and continued to cry. She cried for all the things that had happened to take away that open innocence, to take away that trust. The things she knew - Crais, Scorpius, the neural clone, Maldis, the Scarrans - as well as the things that she did not know, that had happened to him while she was away. All the forces that had left him so distant from her.

But . . . all the things that had happened before she left, had hardened him, true; had cost him his expectation of a fair and just universe. She had witnessed that transformation, and recognized it as necessary, no matter how much it saddened her. Those experiences, however, had brought them closer together. Through the cycles before he was twinned, they had forged a relationship of mutual trust and reliance, and finally of love. Before she left on Talyn with the other one, their relationship had been shaken, but was still strong. The experiences that had hardened him before she left were not the source of the distance now. It had to be what had happened since the first time she left.

And then it hit her, almost like a physical blow. She left . . . him. Alone. Twice. The first time, she left with the other one, returning shattered, barely able to look at him, after having given the other one her love in ways she had denied him. And the last time, despite his pleas, she left, said good-bye, not knowing when or if she would come back. And when she did return, she brought his torturer with her, and demanded that he be given asylum. Yes, things might have happened while she was gone that caused him more pain, and contributed to the distance between them. But she could not avoid the truth; she was the primary source of his current pain, the main reason for his distance.

She looked up, realized Jack was still in the room.

"I'd like . . . to be . . . alone . . . now," she said stiffly.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked gently.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He knew there wasn't anything he could really do for her; that he was not the one who could comfort her. "If you need anything, I'm in the room at the end of the hallway. Just knock on the door; it doesn't matter what time it is. And Aeryn? John is right across the hall."

She nodded, the mention of John's name sending a pang through her chest, strong as an electric current. She finally managed a whispered "Thank-you," and Jack patted her shoulder, then left.

She laid the picture down softly on the bed beside her. Bending over to take off her boots, she willed her mind to go blank. She did not want to think about what it must have been like for him. She just wanted to go to sleep.

She stood up, and took off her leather pants, leaving on her tank top and underwear. Pulling the covers down, she climbed into the bed she'd been sitting on, and picked up the picture again, wondering which sister's bed she had claimed. Lying back on the pillow, she closed her eyes, resting the picture on her chest. She knew, as she had told John earlier, that she had hurt him deeply by leaving. But seeing that innocent face again made it all real to her - how much he had lost, how much their life - together and apart - had cost him.

Why hadn't she realized this before? Somehow, even though she knew the difference, she had merged the two Johns in her mind, at least in her thinking about their relationship. Had she transferred the happiness she knew the other one experienced to this John? Before she left the last time, John had made it clear that he was not the one who had experienced the perfection of those monens on Talyn. But she had never really thought about what that time without her had been like for him. Or how long it had been since he had experienced any happiness with her.

But when had he started to associate being with her only with pain, and nothing else?

Shaking her head, she sat up, willing the images away. Sleep. She needed rest before thinking about this.

She got up and went over to the drawer Jack had opened, looking for more comfortable sleeping clothes. She found a suitable tee shirt, but none of those short pants John called calvins. There were other pants in the drawer, but she really wanted the calvins. They would remind her of being on Moya, and being with him, and she needed all the comfort she could get right now.

She wondered if John would have some in his room. She didn't want to disturb him, but if he were asleep, maybe she could look in his drawers and find what she needed.

Opening the door to the hallway, she stepped out into the darkness. There was a small light near the floor at the end of the hall, but it's glow barely made it halfway down the corridor. She moved silently to the door across from hers. She touched the mechanism she assumed was meant to open the door, but nothing happened. She wondered if John had locked it. To keep her out? The thought that he would feel the need to place a physical barrier between them made her feel sick.

Stop it, stop it, she told herself. If you keep this up you'll be a - what had John called it? - a bedlam case.

Trying the mechanism again, she turned it this time, and the door opened quietly. Not locked after all. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her. She avoided looking at the silent figure sprawled out on the double bed.

Taking in the layout of the room quickly, she moved over to the set of drawers against the wall, across from the foot of the bed. She pulled out the drawers, one by one, searching each quickly and quietly. She was bent over, searching through the last, bottom drawer when-

"Aeryn?"

He saw her stiffen, then stand and turn slowly toward him. He had awakened as soon as she had opened the door. His first reaction was one he could not control; pure joy that she was coming to him, his desire for her overwhelming everything else for a moment. But then he saw her move quickly to the chest of drawers, and he willed the wall up again.

"John . . . I'm sorry if I woke you. I . . . I was just . . ." She stopped, took a deep breath. Frell, she thought, why am I letting him unnerve me so? Why, indeed. Laying back on the bed in only his calvins and a tee shirt, hair mussed, lips . . . . "I was looking for a pair of calvins to sleep in, and thought you might have some in here. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No problem," he said quietly. He wished like hell she were wearing something in addition to that tank top and her underwear. The longer she stood there, the harder it was to keep the wall up.

He sat up, leaning on both elbows. "Uh, ok Aeryn. Yeah, calvins. Lessee. . . ." He tried to concentrate on where his Dad might have put his old clothes. After he disappeared, DK and his Dad had cleaned out his apartment and given away or donated most of his things, except for a few personal items. But would Dad have saved his underwear? Not even his Dad was that sentimental.

"OK, you know Aeryn, I'm not sure I have any old calvins here. All I have are a few pair that Dad bought me when they released me from the base."

Her eyes brightened at this - he could see them, even in the darkened room. "A pair of those will do nicely. Where are they?"

He started to protest, but then realized that resistance would only keep her in the room longer. He got up from the bed and went over to a chair by the window. Taking a package out of the bag on the chair, he handed it to her. "Help yourself," he mumbled, then stood looking out the window, his back to her.

She took one pair of calvins out of the package, then held the package out to return to him. She stood there for several microts, wondering how he managed to shut her out so completely. Had she taught him that?

"John . . ." No response. "John!" Frustrated with his failure to acknowledge her, she grabbed his arm intending to turn him around.

He flinched at her touch, and pulled his arm away.

"John," she whispered this time, blinking hard to keep the tears back.

Something was very, very wrong.

She took a deep breath, to calm herself, then tried to think what he would do, when she had pulled away from him.

"John, what's wrong? Please, talk to me. I'll listen."

He believed her. He could hear the urgency, and even the fear in her voice. Still turned away, he shook his head.

"Alright then; I'll talk. Will you listen?"

He nodded slowly, finally turning toward her. Sitting down in the chair by the window, he stared at the floor, as she sat opposite him on the bed.

"I didn't tell you about the pregnancy before I left because I knew . . . I knew you would not let me leave. It wasn't because I didn't trust you. I felt I had to get away and if I told you, you wouldn't let me, and I was afraid . . . I was afraid that if I didn't get away, your kiss would always taste like yesterday."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, but said nothing.

She took that as a sign to continue.

"Once I felt ready to come back, my plan was to find a surgeon, determine paternity, find you, and tell you about the pregnancy . . . and how much I wanted us to be together. But then . . . my last mission . . . the heat delirium . . . Scorpius . . . I was back on Moya before I had a chance to find out anything, and I didn't want to tell you without being able to tell you the paternity also."

He did say something then, still looking at her. "Why? Why did you think it would make a difference to me, as long as it was your child?"

She stared at him, knowing he was right. If it had been the other one, she would have told him as soon as she found out, with no doubts about his reaction. So why her hesitation with this one? She wrinkled her forehead, thinking.

He watched her, and for the first time realized how hard she was working at this, how much she wanted to make things right between them. How hard he had made it for her.

"I think . . . I think it was so important to me because . . . do you remember - on the Royal Planet, when you learned that Katralla was carrying your child? Remember when they showed you the holo of the child?"

He nodded, and she saw that he was really listening, really looking at her now; no longer detached, distant. That gave her strength to continue.

"The look on your face when you saw the child . . . you were so happy . . ."

A gentle smile touched his lips at the memory.

"I think I just wanted to see that look on your face again . . . to make you that happy . . . ." And then, so softly that he had to lean forward to hear her, "to have you look at me like that."

He looked down again, remembering just how happy the realization that he was going to be a father had made him. How he embraced the sense of responsibility and purpose, how he was ready to be frozen again, and give up everything - earth, his Dad, even her - for the chance to be a father to his child. And how in the end he couldn't be, and had to let another take his place. One more loss, among so many.

He looked back up at her, tears streaking her face now. She had seen. And remembered. Had known what it meant to him, and wanted to give that to him again. He wondered, would he be as happy if the father of this baby were some anonymous PK? Once the baby was here, he was sure he would be. After all, it was being a Dad that was so important, not how you got to be one. But maybe she hadn't understood that part. It wasn't like she had a lot of examples to draw from.

"So. I know now that I should have told you," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "I should have trusted that you would be happy about the child, and love us both no matter what. But I just wanted to see that look, to make you happy, to make up for all the pain I had caused you." To be the source of your joy, instead of your pain.

He sat quietly for a moment, continuing to think about every thing she had said. If she had stayed, she was afraid he would always be yesterday to her. She had finally let go of the other one. She wanted to be able to tell him that he was the father, to make up for the pain - to make him happy.

Closing his eyes, he realized that the wall was down now, and he didn't have the strength to put it back up without the drug. But maybe he didn't need to put it back. Maybe.

"Aeryn, there's one thing I still don't understand."

"What?"

"Why did you tell Rygel?"

"Ry - tell Rygel what?"

"About the pregnancy, about not being sure -"

"Are you fahrbot? I never told Rygel anything."

"But D'Argo said -"

"Then D'Argo's fahrbot; the only person I said anything to was Chiana."

"Chiana? But D'Argo -"

"John. Listen to me. I only told Chiana. No. One. Else."

"OK, then why her?" When you couldn't tell me. She heard the reproach as loudly as if he had shouted it.

"No reason; it was an accident."

"An accident? How do you accidentally tell Chiana something?"

"I don't know . . . I had been ready to tell you everything, since you already knew about the pregnancy, and then that frelling wormhole opened up and the plant attacked Moya and it seemed like we were never going to get a chance to talk, and she was just there and I told her. And then the more I thought about it, I knew you were upset with me, that I'd hurt you again, so I thought that maybe my original plan really was better, and I'd just wait until I knew more before I told you anything else."

"But - frell it, nevermind; we can talk about it later. It's late, we should get some sleep."

"John? One more thing, about the pregnancy. I . . . there's one more reason I hesitated to tell you without knowing paternity first. I was afraid . . . that you would . . . worry . . . about who the father might be, if it wasn't you."

"Should I?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why -"

"The other, there was one time when he became very jealous; it was unfounded, but . . . I just did not want to take the chance that you might react in a similar way, so I thought it better if I could give you all the information at once."

"So when you say I have no reason to be jealous, not that I would be, what you mean is -"

"That there has been no one but John Crichton since I met you."

"No one."

"Not even the possibility of anyone else since that first time on the false earth."

He grimaced at that. "First time? Aeryn, for me, that was the only time."

Frell. She kept forgetting. The only time for him. How many times had they even kissed? No more than a handful, including that last kiss on Moya. No wonder he was so afraid. All he knew was her pushing him away, leaving him.

Moving from the bed, she knelt beside his chair. The only time? "We can change that . . ." she whispered. She wanted to show him that there would be no more pushing away, no more leaving, no more carelessly causing pain.

He drew back a little, overwhelmed by her nearness.

She leaned into him, nuzzling his ear with her nose, reaching up to stroke his hair.

He moved away again. She stopped, puzzled.

"John?" The sense that something was terribly wrong returned, stronger than before.

"Uh, I'm sorry Aeryn, . . . I . . . just . . . I can't . . . not tonight."

He couldn't look at her. He didn't have an answer for the questions he knew he would see in her eyes. He didn't understand himself. He only knew that whenever she touched him, it filled him with panic. And the thought of making love to her, as much as he needed and wanted to, triggered memories of Grayza. But how could he explain that to her?

"What did I do? Did I say something wrong?"

Damn. "No baby, it's not you. You've been amazing tonight. I'm just . . . tired, that's all. Coming through the wormhole, the debriefing at the base, . . . it's been a long couple of weeks. I just need some rest."

She could see that he was tired, but she knew that wasn't all of it, wasn't the true reason he could not make love to her.

"It's alright. We have plenty of time." She smiled reassuringly at him, and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my - your sisters' - room."

"Could you stay? I mean . . . I can't . . . but I want to be close to you. I don't want you to leave."

She considered for a microt. "Would you like to cuddle?"

He smiled then, really smiled at her. The other guy had done a good job. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"OK, just let me go change. Do you have a . . . bathroom . . . in this room?"

Her use of the english word had him reflexively wishing for the drug. He took a deep breath, then relaxed. "Yeah," he said, pointing to a door in the corner on the other side of the bed.

"I'll go get my tee shirt, change, and be right back," she said, smiling at him again. She stopped herself from bending over and kissing the top of his head. Take it slowly; wait until he's ready.

As she returned with the tee shirt and entered the bathroom, he crawled back into the bed. He couldn't believe that Aeryn wanted to make love, and he had turned her down. He had fantasized about this moment for cycles, and now he was saying no. If he could just get Grayza out of his mind . . . the things she had made him do. . . the things she had done to him . . . . Yet if he couldn't make love to Aeryn, he could still be close to her. At least he hoped he could.

But when Aeryn came out of the bathroom and got into bed with him, memories of Grayza assaulted him again. It was all he could do not to jump out of bed and move across the room, away from her.

Aeryn, seeing his body stiffen, was careful not to lie too close to him.

She believed him when he said this was not about her, and wondered what could have happened while they were apart to cause him to react like this now. She lay on her side, watching him. He was on his back, arms straight at his sides, eyes closed.

"John, what is it?" Quietly, not demanding. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it."

If he could have, he would have laughed. Was this the third time tonight she had asked him to talk? The wheel really does come round, he thought. Maybe the other guy wasn't the only one who had taught her something. Maybe he had too.

Trying to respond to her, he felt as though he had to fight for air. "I know you're right, I should talk," he admitted, wondering why it was so hard to talk about it. Was it his pride? Or didn't he trust her enough?

"Did something happen while we were apart? Did someone -" Fear and anger gripped her at the thought, and her voice began to rise, despite her resolve to remain calm for him. "Did Scorpius -" He glanced at her. She was up on one elbow, glaring at him in a way that made him want to remind her that he was the injured one, not the offender.

"Scorpius? No babe, but good instincts. Just wrong super villian. Not Scorpy this time. This time it was the old Commandant herself who had the honor."

"Comman . . . Grayza? Grayza is responsible?" She had to concentrate very hard to resist the urge to get up out of bed, get dressed, retrieve his module from where she had hidden it, find Moya, the wormhole, the command carrier, and Grayza, and kill her.

Not now, she told herself. Later.

She forced herself to breathe. "What did she do to you?" Again she wanted to shake him, to make him tell her so that she could help him. She concentrated on keeping her breathing steady instead.

He marveled at how hard she was working to control her anger. And her fear. So that she could focus on him.

"Aeryn, I really appreciate what you're doing, I just . . . I really can't talk about it now."

She considered this for a few microts, weighing the strategy of Not Pushing against the belief in the Universal Benefits of Talking. Finally she decided that given the hour, Not Pushing was the proper approach. "OK," she said, lying back down, "but when you're ready, I'll listen."

She thought she saw him relax just a little. "We don't have to cuddle if you don't want to. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You tell me what you want, tell me what you feel comfortable with, and that's what we'll do. That's all we'll do. It's your choice."

She saw him relax a bit more as he let out a long sigh and turned towards her for the first time since she had gotten in the bed with him.

He knew what he wanted. He just wasn't sure that he could do it. Or that any of this was fair to her. His desire for her warred with his fear, but finally it was his need for comfort that won. "I want to be in your arms," he whispered, forcing images of Grayza to the fringes of his consciousness. There was no Grayza here. There was only the woman who loved him.

She opened her arms, and waited. He moved across the distance between them, into the warmth of her embrace, tucking his head beneath her chin. She tried to enfold him completely, to let him know there was nothing here to fear.

"May I touch your hair?" she asked softly.

My constant soldier, he thought, true to her word. "I'd like that," he responded, and felt himself relax even more as her hand gently caressed his hair.

He realized that he felt safe. For the first time in a very long time, he felt protected from all the forces that seemed intent on doing him harm.

She felt the tension finally drain from him completely, and sensed that sleep would soon overtake him. She tightened her grip on him a little, determined to protect him from the many evils that sought him so persistently. She silently thanked his God, Zhaan's goddess, all the deities in the universe, for allowing her to be here, now, with him in her arms again. All the pain, all the terror of the last cycle didn't matter as much, because the journey brought her here, brought him back to her.

"Aeryn?" he whispered, "you awake?"

"Ummmm . . .?"

"I can hear your heart."

"Really?" she murmured. "Well, I can hear yours, too."

He started to protest, his head still resting comfortably beneath her chin. But as her fingers began to gently caress his hair again, he realized the truth, finally.

"Yeah, I know you can, baby; I know you can."

The end.

You can find Revelations, part 2, The Next Day here.