Coming Home (G)

After I posted my second fic, Revelations, at Kansas, several folks asked that I repost my first fic there also. Here is the October 5, 2002 Kansas repost of the original post on the Sci Fi channel's Dominion Board on July 11, 2002.

Coming Home
by shipsister

Setting: post LiaMST

Spoilers: various episodes, seasons 1-3. This will be totally alternate universe after July 12, I think, after seeing the promo.

Rating: not more than PG, probably G.

Author's notes: I discovered fanfic during the great drought, and just want to thank all the wonderful writers out there who got me through, expanded my vision of Farscape, and inspired me to try my hand at fanfiction myself. To name a few, in semi-order of discovery: Sarah Wait, Shaye, ISIS, analise, Maayan, huzzlewhat, aeryncrichton, Shipscat, Atana_Mirtai, imloco2, CrystalMoon, orchidcactus. There are many more.

So here it is, my first post to this board and my first fanfic. It hasn't been beta'd or anything, because I wanted to post it before canon overtook it in episode 5. I figured there wasn't time to seek out a beta reader and actually make it *good* . . . . I have, however, tried to make it at least readable.

While lurking on this board a few weeks ago, I came upon a discussion of what a reconciliation between J and A would look like, what A would have to say, etc. I agreed with a lot of the views, and it just inspired me to put my thoughts about at least one way it could happen into a fic. I've stayed away from related topics on the board and fanfic since then, so I wouldn't unintentionally snertch anything. Any resemblance to anything others have posted since about 6/26 is pure serendipity.

I've been doing ep additions and fillers in my head for years, I just didn't know that's what they were. I figure I might as well start putting them on virtual paper. All constructive criticism and suggestions are appreciated. Please! I need feedback!

Disclaimer: Like everyone else who does this, I have no ownership, I make no money, I do it because I'm hopelessly addicted. How could Henson, DK, etc. sue me after getting me hooked? And of course, no copyright infringement intended.

Thoughts are indicated by *---*.
************

She had hailed the ship about a quarter arn ago, asking permission to dock. Pilot and Moya happily granted it, and expected her within the next half arn.

D'Argo had come to his quarters to tell him, and watched carefully, sadly as the mask slipped over his friend's features on hearing the news.

"Are you coming to the docking bay with us to greet her?"

John looked up for the first time then, remembering a previous mad dash to get ready for her return, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Well, it was too much to bear, now. He wouldn't try to make himself look good for her, wouldn't stand in the docking bay with a ridiculous grin on his face, wouldn't feel his heart twist when she looked through him again. No, if she wanted to see him, talk to him, she could come looking for him this time.

"No, D. I think I'll just stay here. If she asks you can tell her where to find me. If she doesn't ask, . . . well, . . . "

His voice trailed off; he shrugged his shoulders. He was too afraid to care, to imagine what he would do if she was still disinterested, cold. *Can't go there,* he thought to himself.

As D'Argo turned to go, John realized that in being so focused on Aeryn, he had almost forgotten what had become an even greater obsession for him over the past monens.

"Um, D'Argo?"

"Yes, John?"

"Comm me and let me know if . . . she's alone? What she . . . looks like?"

D'Argo stared for a moment, but didn't ask any questions. He knew John had his reasons, even if they were as hard to fathom as ever. And he was asking so little.

"As you wish, John. Is there anything you do not wish me to tell her?"

Now it was John's turn to stare. He thought for a microt, then decided.

"Tell her if she has any questions, she should ask me." He wasn't going to let her off the hook by letting D'Argo fill in all the blank spaces. She would have to deal with him.

*****************

John waited restlessly in his quarters for the comm from D'Argo. His room was beginning to feel more and more like the cell it once was. He thought of going to Pilot's den, just to have something to do while he waited, then decided against it. That was one place he was sure she would go, and he did not want just to run into her. He wanted . . . needed . . . her to come to him.

After the half arn had passed, he commed Pilot.

"Pilot? Has she docked yet?"

"Just now, Commander; her prowler is just coming to a stop."

"Thanks, Pilot."

"Certainly Commander. Would you like me to notify you once she leaves the docking bay?"

"Uh, no Pilot . . . but thanks."

*Okay John,* he thought to himself, *get a grip. You cannot sit here waiting for something that is probably not going to happen. Find something to do.* He looked around his quarters, then pulled out his notebook. Gazing out through the porthole, he began to map the stars.

*****************

After her prowler came to a rest, Aeryn sat, taking deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart. She was excited to be back on Moya, *back home,* she thought, and could hardly wait to see Pilot and D'Argo again. She even had some good will reserved for Chiana and Rygel, enough to be curious about what they'd done during her absence.

But despite her happiness at reuniting with the crew, her heart was pounding, not for them, but because of the unsolicited information Pilot had shared with her when she first commed him. After telling her who was aboard, he said everyone would be happy and relieved to have her back.

"Everyone?" she had whispered, and was startled when Pilot replied.

"Yes, Aeryn, everyone."

Would he really be happy to see her? He was in such pain when she left - they both were - but she had never seen him like that before . . . except that time on the Royal Planet, over a cycle and a half ago. But somehow, this had seemed much, much worse to her. The look on his face, that tone in his voice. Despair? Anger? Resignation? Hopelessness.

She closed her eyes, remembering. Trying to will away the tears that were always close whenever she remembered their parting. She had tried to explain to him. Why she had to go, why she had no choice, why he could not come with her.

But she knew he did not understand, could not, really.

Just as she would never, could never really understand why the John she had cherished so much was gone.

Yes, she knew the Scarrens had to be stopped.

Yes, she knew the wormhole knowledge had to be safeguarded, kept from them.

Yes, she knew that he'd had no other choice, and that he'd done the best he could.

But knowing all of that, still, in the center of her being, where the pain caught her off guard, twisted within her, whenever a random thought or scent or word would resurrect a stray memory of their happiness or his death . . . still, she could not understand . . . why?

And she sensed it would be the same for him . . . . In his mind, he would understand her pain, her need to be away, that she did love him . . .

But in his heart? Even from across the uncharted territories, she could almost touch his sense of rejection, of abandonment. After all, wasn't that what she had felt about the other's dying?

She opened her eyes. Enough. Enough thinking, enough crying. She was here. She had made the choice to find them, to come back. To try to . . . what? Begin again with him? Or was that too much to hope for?

Enough.

She released the prowler canopy and jumped out, smiling at the enthusiastic and happy greetings from her crewmates. After greeting them in turn, she looked around, a question in her eyes.

D'Argo saw the look, hesitated; then, "He said if you wanted to see him, he'd be in his quarters."

*Fair enough,* she thought. She remembered her return from Talyn, too. She nodded. "Thank-you, D'Argo. Are my quarters as they were?"

"As far as I know, nothing changed much while we were away."

*Nothing? Everything. Crichton won't come to greet me . . . . This is going to be every bit as hard as I thought it would be.* "I'm going to put my things away; can we all meet later in the center chamber? I have much to tell you. In about an arn?"

All three were speechless. Aeryn wanted to talk? Too good to pass up. They agreed, and parted.

**********************

Aeryn stood in the middle of her quarters, slowly turning around, a smile brightening her face, lifting her mood.

*Home* she thought. *I really am home.* This felt more like home than the command carrier ever had, she realized. She'd thought of the command carrier as home because it was all she had ever known. But Moya was home because she knew there would always be a place for her here. It was here that she had really, truly, become herself. And of course, he was here.

Her smile slowly faded; she stopped turning. Taking a deep breath, resolve replaced contentment. *Alright, soldier, it's time to do this. To face him. To find out.*

**********************

As Aeryn slowly but determinedly made her way to John's quarters, she commed Pilot.

"Pilot, how long since I left the others in the docking bay?"

"About half an arn, Aeryn."

Just as she had suspected, she had taken longer than planned in her quarters. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that talking with John might take longer, also. If things went poorly, she wouldn't be up to talking with the others. If things went well . . .

"Pilot, could you let them know that I won't be able to make it tonight after all, and that I'll talk with them at the evening meal tomorrow?" That should leave plenty of time, no matter what happened.

"Certainly, Aeryn. Moya and I hope . . . everything . . . goes as you desire it."

Wry smile. "Thank you Pilot," she whispered, "me too."

Her steps slowed even more the closer she got to John's quarters. She couldn't begin to describe what she was feeling. Fear, hope, trepidation, exhilaration - every feeling in conflict with another - simultaneously. She wanted desperately to shut them all down, to not feel anything, but she knew that was the one thing she could not do. If she had any hope of anything between them, she knew he needed to see all the emotions at war within her; to touch her turmoil, or he'd never believe any of the things she had to say to him. She owed him that much.

****************

He had managed to lose himself in his star charts, and was actually startled when D'Argo commed him. He hesitated for a microt, then answered.

"You wanted to know about Aeryn?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Well, she is alone. She looks well."

"No different?"

"Well no, John. A little tired from her journey. Maybe a little thinner . . ."

*Thinner?*

"But basically the same Aeryn, except . . ."

"Except?" John held his breath.

"Well, she was happy to see us, even Chi and Rygel. And she showed it. She even said she wanted to talk to us later. We all thought that was kind of odd, but well, she was smiling, so who are we to question?"

"Did she say anything . . . about . . ."

"She . . . I told her you were in your quarters; that was almost half an arn ago. She said she was going to put her things away."

"That's it?"

"Except for meeting us later to talk."

"Ok, thanks big fella. Appreciate the info."

"Of course John; let me know if I can . . . well, do anything. . . ."

"You got it."

He turned back to his notebook, but had lost all ability to concentrate. *She should be here soon, if she's coming. God, this is just as bad as if I had gone to the docking bay. Could I be any more pathetic? Well at least her first view of me wasn't standing there grinning like a frelling idiot. No, I'm just sitting here like a - *

Then he heard her quiet footsteps slowly coming down the passageway; heard her hesitate, then come again, slower still. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay seated, not to turn, terrified of what he would do or say once he saw her again. 'She looks the same. She's alone.' Willing himself not to jump to conclusions, to give her time to explain, to trust her not to have done anything that he would not be able to forgive.

He heard her stop at the door.

Deep intake of breath. "Hey," she said softly.

He couldn't help but smile.

"Hey," he replied.

A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey," she repeated, completing the ritual he had created almost three cycles ago, in one of his early attempts to get her to open up.

His smile broadened, in spite of his fear, and he turned to the door.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, so much more beautiful than his memory of her. No longer wearing the Peacekeeper braid, her hair was in a ponytail, swinging freely. He wondered if that meant anything, hoped it did, said only "Come in."

She palmed open the door, walked slowly into the room.

She could not take her eyes off of him. Eyes bluer than she would have thought possible; lips full, soft; hands . . . she forced herself to look away. Control. She had to stay in control. She could not cross the room and take him in her arms and . . . control. She breathed deeply, again.

He watched, almost not believing, as her emotions played across her face. Fear. Desire. Joy. Pain. Resolve. Love? He was afraid to think that, yet as he thought he saw it, it was all he could do not to cross the room and take her in his arms . . . but then he remembered. She was alone . . . and she did look thinner.

She saw the warmth and joy that was in his eyes replaced by something else, an iciness that sent its chill across the room; she shivered. But it was what she expected. What she had known she would have to overcome.

She had meant to start with some small pleasantry. He had told her once that humans liked to start serious conversations with lighter topics - "small talk" - she remembered. But the coldness that had overtaken him blocked all but the essentials from her mind. "We . . . I thought it would be good if we talked. Do you have time, now, to talk?"

"I have time to listen."

*Ok* she thought. *At least it's a start.* "Would you like to talk here, or elsewhere?"

"Here's fine." He didn't think he could move if he had too. He felt frozen to the spot, like his legs would snap off if he tried to move.

The chill was beginning to settle in her bones. "I just wanted to apolo . . . to explain, when I left, before, it wasn't because I didn't want to be with you . . . I just couldn't then. I needed . . . to be away, to have time . . . to . . . accept . . . his death. If I could have done it with you, I would have. But being with you, then, it just made it harder to let him go." She felt like she was gasping for air. She didn't try to stop the tears when they came. She had to let him see that she would hold nothing back. But instead of the understanding she had hoped to see in his eyes, it seemed that the coldness only increased. And the throbbing at his temples told her that he was trying very hard to control his anger.

She hesitated then, not sure how to continue. What had she said to anger him? "John? All I'm trying to say is - "

He interrupted her then, barely able to keep from shouting. "What did you do to . . . where's the baby, Aeryn?"

She stood, frozen, encased in the ice flowing from him. "How did you . . . who told you about . . . how did you know about the baby?

"Does it matter? Where is the baby, Aeryn?"

This was not going the way she had planned. Not at all. But then, what ever did, especially where he was concerned? "Our child is safe, John. I would never let any harm come to her."

"Her? We . . . have a daughter?" Amazement? Awe?

"Yes, John." A gentle smile played across her face, and she thought she sensed the smallest thaw in the ice.

"Where is she?"

"As I said, she is safe. She is with friends, far from anyplace the Peacekeepers or Scarrens or any of our enemies would ever think to look for her."

"Why won't you tell me - " Suspicion? Distrust?

Softly. "Because if you don't know, no one can make you tell."

Understanding. Rebellion. "But Aeryn . . . if I don't know, and something happened to you, how would I ever find her?" Whispered. A Plea.

*Frell.* Why did she always think she was indestructible? He was right of course. He should know. And not just because something might happen to her. He needed to know, before he could accept. And even if she didn't want to admit it, he needed to know so that he could uncover any flaw in her plan. She thought it was foolproof, but it wouldn't hurt to have his insight also.

"Alright. I suppose you are right. Our daughter is on Acquara; remember? Where you landed when you had your temper tantrum and Moya starburst away? It was the only place I could think of, where we had actually made friends. And our enemies are unlikely to connect it to us. I went there before my condition was visible, and stayed and gave birth there. I made sure no one could trace my movements, either going there or leaving to come here. She will have an Acquaran name and be raised as one of them, until it is safe for us to go and get her. Out of gratitude to you and Rygel, they have promised to hide her, to protect her as best they can if the need ever arises. They understand and are willing to accept the risks. Our child is safe, John."

Once again, she had amazed him. "Acquara. . . that's perfect Aeryn." The ice cracked enough for a smile to cross his face, and bring real warmth to his voice.

She smiled in return, surprised at the pleasure his praise brought her. Not a new feeling, just one not felt in a very long time.

"Did you name her?" Quietly, but even knowing the pain the memory would cause, he winced at the sadness that settled on her face. But there was something else, also. Wistfulness? Longing?

"I did give her a Sebacean name, but I did not tell the Acquarans what it is. I did not want there to be anything that identified her as Sebacean." She looked at him directly. "I named her Gilina."

The ice thawed completely then, the warmth of his eyes washing away all the coldness that had surrounded her. He reached for her, held her close. He understood. That they would both have been dead without the selflessness and courage of the tech. That there would have been no child if it wasn't for Gilina's sacrifices. That it was the least they could do to show their gratitude, to honor her.

"Thank-you, baby," he whispered in her ear, "thank you."

Her tears came then in earnest, and she thanked Zhaan's goddess for allowing her to be in his arms again. "I love you John. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, please forgive me for leaving you alone, but I had no choice. I want to be with you now. I need to be with you. I know that you are angry with me, for how I treated you, for leaving you, for not telling you about the baby . . . but if you could just find a way to forgive me, if we could just start over . . . could we try - "

Her entreaty was interrupted as he kissed her, and he tried to pour all the longing and need he had felt since she left into the kiss, to let her know that at this moment he would forgive her anything, because she came back to him, because she said "our child," because she trusted him enough to ask for forgiveness, to let him see how much she needed him.

He broke the kiss, touched his forehead to hers, fought to calm his breath. "I love you Aeryn. I do forgive you, but really, baby, there isn't anything to forgive. You did what you had to do. Yeah, I was angry, I was . . . hurt. But I know that you had to do it, and it wasn't about how you felt about me. And it really doesn't matter, anyway, because you're here now. God, baby you're here now . . . you came back . . ." *You came back to me.*

Then he kissed her again, and his hand reached up to loosen her ponytail, letting her hair cascade around her shoulders, unrestrained. As she blissfully responded to his kiss, she knew there were still questions to answer, about the child, their time apart, the days to come. But she knew he would wait for those answers. Now was the time for the two of them to celebrate her homecoming.

She was glad she had postponed her talk with the others until the evening meal the next day. She intended to make sure that this phase of the celebration lasted at least until then.

The End