Revelations, part 2: The Next Day (R)

[shipsister]

This was originally posted at Kansas on January 10, 2003.

Greetings!

Some of you may remember that way back in September I posted a fic called "Revelations." I didn't intend it to be a part one when I wrote it, but after I finished, it seemed that Aeryn and John still had some things to talk about, so part two started percolating in my head. I even had a name: the next day. Some folks in their replies were kind enough to ask for a part two, which was a great encouragement. Sorry the wait was so long! Real life being what it is, it took me a while to get it done. Also, it turned out to be much longer than I anticipated. Once Aeryn and John got going, they didn't want to stop!

I must give extra special thanks to my beautiful betas, Scrubschick and Aeryncrichton. Their insightful suggestions made this a much better fic than it would have been otherwise. And their support and encouragement kept me going in ways they probably don't even realize. I feel very blessed to know them. All mistakes are, of course, my own.

Setting: post Unrealized Realities, after Aeryn follows John through the wormhole to Earth, and immediately after "Revelations." You should probably read that first, if you haven't, as this assumes knowledge of what happened the night before. It's posted here.

Both fics are AU, now that our show is back!!
 
Rating: R, to be on the safe side.

Disclaimers: The usual. I wish I did own it. We'd have season 5 and more!

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

I'll post the rest of the fic in the replies.

****************
Revelations
The Next Day


He knew he was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because Aeryn was in his bed, and they were kissing. They were kissing, and he wasn't afraid. Long, lazy, warm, wet, sweet tasting kisses. The smell of her hair, the feel of her warm body pressed beneath him; it was intoxicating, even in the dream. He moved from kissing to nuzzling her ear with his nose, whispering, "Baby, I want you so much."

"Of course you do. And you will continue to do so until I release you."

His head shot up, and he was looking right into Grayza's cool, cunning face.

"No-No-NO- Aeryn? Where's Aeryn? AERYN!" His protests became a scream, and he sat bolt upright, breathing hard.

"John? John, I'm here-I'm right here; it's alright-" Although they had fallen asleep in each others arms, they had somehow separated during the night, and Aeryn realized that he was back on the other side of the bed, as far away as he could possibly be, and still be in bed. She moved closer, but didn't touch him.

He stared at her, eyes wide, breathing shallow, rapid, not comprehending, still seeing only the oily, smirking face of the Commandant.

"John . . . John, it's me, it's Aeryn. I'm right here."

As he continued to stare at her, his eyes slowly came into focus, his breathing slowed.

"Aeryn?"

"Yes, John, I'm right here," she repeated.

Moaning softly, he sank into her arms.

She held him close, just as she had earlier, only this time he was trembling from the dream, clinging to her as if she might disappear if he did not hold on tightly enough. She gently stroked his hair, and murmured what she hoped were comforting words. For the first time since he had told her that Grayza had harmed him, she found it difficult to control her fear. She knew she could protect him from any external threat. But this was different. Images of his madness triggered by the neural clone played in her mind, as she remembered how completely she had failed to protect him then.

She heard a soft knock at the door. "Son, you alright in there?" Jack opened the door, stepped halfway in, then stopped abruptly, taken aback by the sight of Aeryn Sun and his son in bed, embracing.

He thought for a moment that he had misinterpreted John's cry, mistaking passion for panic and fear. But in the bright moonlight flowing in through the windows, he saw the look on Aeryn's face; distress, not desire, and he knew he hadn't been wrong.

Aeryn tried to calm herself enough to remember the english words. "OK . . . it's, . . . bad . . . a dream . . . just."

Jack nodded. "Come find me if you need me," he said as he stepped out and closed the door. He was grateful that she was here; that his son had someone who understood what he had endured, someone with whom he could talk. That is, if he would talk with her. John had seemed to be so distant last night. But given what he had just seen, Jack figured that Aeryn had taken care of that distance problem herself.

"Do you feel like lying down now?" Aeryn asked quietly, once his breathing had calmed. John held onto her for a few more microts, but then let go, and sat up.

"No babe, I think I'll just get up. You go on back to sleep, I'll be ok."

"Are you sure? We can talk about it if you'd like."

The relentless Aeryn Sun. 

He moved to the edge of the bed, and turned slightly to look at her. "Thanks babe. I just need . . . I don't know; I just don't think I can talk about it right now. I'm sorry. I wish . . . ."

"It's ok; I told you I could wait, and I can."

She was rewarded with a slight smile. "Thanks baby. I think I'll just go downstairs for awhile. Go on back to sleep."

She watched as he pulled on his pants, and started for the bedroom door. She wanted to say something comforting, supportive, loving. Instead, she lay back down and closed her eyes as he left the room. She had already used all the words she had; she didn't know what else to say. Maybe I'll just wait until morning, she thought, willing herself to sleep, and say them all over again. Over and over, until they work.

**********

He went downstairs to the kitchen, and found his Dad was already there, warming milk in a pan on the stove.

When he was a kid and had bad dreams, Mom would always make him a glass of warm milk to help him get back to sleep. Sometimes he would tell her about the dream, and she would always listen intently, and sympathize with his fears. When he was very young, she would pretend to chase the bad dream spirits away, along with any inhabitants of the dream, and leave him giggling with delight. As he got older, she would tell him stories from her childhood, or from the time before he was born, when it had been just her and Dad. The stories were always full of warmth and love and laughter, and always left him feeling content and unafraid. Truly happy.

When Dad was home, Mom would make the milk and then leave them alone and let Dad tell stories. His were always of space and adventure and new and exciting worlds. But the end was the same - banished demons, laughter, an unrivaled sense of safety and security. If Dad had just returned from a mission, Mom would stay and both of them would take turns telling stories and jokes, rehashing family lore, sometimes leaving him so exhausted from laughing that Dad had to carry him back to bed. Those times were his favorites, when it was just the three of them, before his sisters were born.

Not that he begrudged them their share of warm milk and laughter. When he was older, he often played the role of demon chaser and storyteller, especially when Dad was away. But the memory of the times when the three of them sat around the kitchen table sustained him in ways he hadn't always recognized. After he left for college, whenever he felt a little lost or alone, the memory of a story or a family legend would come unbidden, and leave him with the same sense of security and connection he experienced the first time he'd heard it.

He hadn't thought about the warm milk or the stories or the laughter since his mother's death. The memories that had once brought comfort were only reminders of loss after she died. And he wasn't thinking of those times when he made his way downstairs. He just found himself at the kitchen door, staring at his Dad as he stood at the stove, warming milk.

"Hey Dad. You know they've got a newfangled contraption called a microwave that can do that in a fraction of the time."

"Maybe so, son, but it just doesn't taste the same to me. Besides, doing it this way reminds me of your Mom."

He stared at his Dad and wondered how many times over the last seven years Jack had stood alone at the stove, deriving a small measure of comfort from repeating the simple ritual.

"Yeah, Dad. I miss her too."

Jack nodded briefly, taking two mugs out of the cabinet and pouring the steaming hot milk into them. Motioning John to sit at the table, he handed him one of the mugs.

John sat staring into his mug, letting the rising warmth drift over his face, enjoying the distinctive aroma of warm milk. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it.

"Want to talk about the dream, son?"

John continued to stare into the mug, thinking. Could he tell his Dad? Might make it easier to tell Aeryn, to chase the demons away. He took a sip of the milk, testing. Still very hot, but drinkable.

"Ah, not right now Dad. Maybe later." Why worry the old man, he thought. Why give him more detail about the merry-go-round of horror and torture his life in the UT's had become? He took another sip of the milk, letting its warmth roll down into him slowly.

"Son, I know a dodge when I hear one. If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine, but you need to talk to someone . . ."

Yeah, right, thought John. I'm sure I'll find a shrink skilled in dealing with all the dren left behind after three and a half years of Crais, Scorpius, Scarrans, and now the one and only Commandant.

"No, really Dad. I'm ok, it was just a dream."

"Son, we both know that's a load of crap. Why don't you talk to Aeryn about it?"

Oh god, Dad, give it a rest. He drank two swallows of milk, tried to let it calm him. "Look Dad, I appreciate your trying to help, but . . . my relationship with Aeryn is . . . complicated . . . we're trying to work things out, but . . ."

"Son, do you love her?" Jack sat forward in his chair, leaned over the table toward John. He watched the mix of emotions that crossed his son's face in response to the question. Love, yes, but also pain; tenderness, but also - fear? I guess it is complicated, Jack thought.

"Yeah, Dad, I do. I love her so much . . ." John's voice trailed off. So much that it hurts?

"Do you believe she loves you?"

"Yeah, I know she does. We've been through kind of a rough time, but we talked through some things last night. I understand her a little better, and I know she loves . . . me . . ."

"But?"

"Look Dad, I -"

"No son, you look. I know you don't want advice from me on this, but I feel like I'm entitled after getting you back after almost four years; entitled to act like a meddling old man, and give you the benefit of my experience -"

John smiled, suddenly grateful to be able to sit and listen to his Dad say anything. He leaned back in his chair, took another drink of milk, cooler now, but still soothing.

"John, that woman upstairs loves you. She loves you with everything that's in her. I saw it last night, I saw it just now. I can't imagine there's anything you can't tell her, can't trust her with."

John's smile faded as he listened to his father. Trust. What was that about coming full circle?

"Dad, I'm not going to discuss my relationship with Aeryn with you. I told you we're working it out; I'll tell her about the dream, about . . . everything, when I'm ready."

Jack was surprised by the vehemence behind John's response, and wondered what the hell was wrong with the boy. But he only nodded.

"Alright son, I hear you. But you need to understand that every relationship is complicated - granted, maybe this one is a little more so, her being an alien and all - but saying it's complicated's not saying anything special. Loving somebody means that they're going to hurt you and you're going to hurt them; it's part of the package. If you want the relationship to last, you have to learn how to forgive - really forgive - and rebuild trust where it's been damaged. And sometimes you have to take a risk in order to do that. It's hard. I know. But if you don't do it, no matter how much you love someone, it won't work."

Take a risk? His whole life was one big risk in the UTs. He was tired of taking risks, of repeatedly staring down disaster. He didn't want a relationship full of risk. He wanted something nice, simple, uncomplicated. A risk-free relationship. With Aeryn Sun.

Ummm. And would you like whipped cream and chocolate sauce on that fantasy? With sprinkles on top? What about gummibears?

"OK Dad; I know you're right," he sighed. "I know loving someone, having a relationship means risk. I'm just . . . tired, that's all. But I'll be ok; I just need some time."

Jack looked at him, and could see that much at least was true. John was tired. There was an air of weariness about him that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.

"OK son, I'll let up, for now. Just one more thing and I'll be quiet. You may need time before you're willing to trust her again, enough to take the risk. I can understand that. But every minute you spend resting, deciding, is one less minute you have to spend with her."

John didn't say anything in response. He knew the cost. But he didn't know what else to do.

Jack sat back silently, letting the moment pass.

"Johnny, do you remember your cousin Alan? Remember the summer your Aunt Ruth and cousin Alan came down to visit Disneyworld?"

Grateful for the change in subject, John relaxed. "Oh yeah, I remember him. Little kid. Scared to death of everything at Disney. Spent the whole time crying."

"Yep. Guess what he's doing now."

"No, don't tell me . . . ."

"He's managing one of the big concessions at Disney; a real hotshot."

John couldn't help but laugh at the memory, and the irony. His Dad then proceeded to fill him in on what most of his family was up to, connecting each one to an incident he would remember from his childhood. With each story, John's laughter was a little louder, freer. Jack kept telling stories until he could see John had relaxed, and all the strain from the dream and their conversation had disappeared, at least for a while. The warm milk and the stories were still able to work their magic, no matter that the demons were now more often real, than imagined.

***********

Officer Aeryn Sun woke up slowly, stretched fully, relaxed back into the bed before opening her eyes. A rare luxury for a soldier. Even though she was on a strange planet, the only one of her kind on this side of the universe, she felt safe. She felt safe because she was in John's bed, in John's room, in John's home, even if she was not in John's arms. Grimacing at the last thought, she sat up and looked around the room, now drenched in sunlight streaming through the windows. She guessed by the quality of the light that it was at least mid-morning, maybe later. Drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them, she regarded the other side of the bed, empty, and now cold. She was not surprised that John had not returned, had chosen to stay away rather than struggle between whatever was tormenting him and his desire for her. And he was tormented, she could see that. But by what? What could Grayza have done to him that would leave him unable to make love to her, unable to even tell her why?

Useless speculation. He would tell her when he was ready. 

Or she could always ask D'Argo, she thought wryly. They seemed to tell each other everything.

She got out of bed, went into the hallway, heard voices downstairs in the kitchen. She could not make out the words, but she recognized the sound of John's voice, and Jack's. John sounded calm; she could detect no tension in his voice. She even heard him laugh in response to something his father said. Reassured by the sound, she decided to wash and dress before going downstairs.

She went into the sisters' room to get her clothes, but they were not where she left them the night before. Going back out to the hallway, she called down from the top of the stairs. "John? Do you know where my clothes are?"

"Hey, sleepyhead; good morning. Yeah, I put them in the laundry; Dad took your pants to the cleaners, thought you'd been wearing them for a few days-"

"Well yes, but what am I going to wear until-"

"Now don't get yourself all worked up; I went shopping; got you something." As he said this, John came upstairs carrying a large bag, similar to the one his calvins had been in. He smiled at her and handed her the bag. "I thought you might need something else to wear."

As she took the bag from him, she couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or touched. Annoyed that he had taken the risk of going out in public, being recognized, just to do something for her. Touched that he had been thinking of her, and what she might need. That thought overwhelmed her with its meaning, and she returned his smile.

He followed her back into his room as she set the bag on the bed and opened it. She pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a tee shirt, along with underwear. She smiled at the pants, they were the same as the ones he wore, as was the tee shirt, black with short sleeves.

"Are we to be twins, now?" She inquired, her smile now more a smirk.

"Why not, darlin'? We always did tend to think alike, in the ways that really count."

She raised her eyebrows at this, but only took the clothes and went into the bathroom.

When she came out wearing his gift, he was sitting in the chair between the bed and the windows. The look on his face made Aeryn pause, to study him. He looked as if he were thinking about something that was painful and puzzling at the same time; some eternal riddle that not only teased, but punished.

She considered asking him what he was thinking, changing tactics and pushing him to talk with her about what was on his mind now, and about the dream. After watching him a few more microts, she decided not to push him yet. Whatever this was, it was extremely difficult for him, and pushing should only be a last resort.

"John? The pants fit nicely, as does the shirt. Thank you."

"De nada," he responded, and as he looked at her, his smile returned. Her hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders and down her back, and the brightness of her smile rivaled the sunlight brightening the room. "You look beautiful," he said quietly, and the emotion in his voice took her by surprise. What had he been thinking?

"Ahhh . . . I didn't know how much to buy," he continued. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be staying." He looked at her sideways, out of the corner of his eye. She frowned; he was dealing with her indirectly again.

"Why don't you just ask?"

He looked out the window then. Just ask? Sounded so simple. He turned back and looked at her, but said nothing.

She crossed the room, stood in front of him, touched his hair. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Progress, she thought. "John, I never want to spend another night away from you."

"You'd stay here on earth?" The look on his face almost broke her heart. How could hope and disbelief seem so at home sharing the same space?

She looked directly in his eyes, tried to open herself completely to his gaze. "If this is where you are, it is where I will be."

He stared at her for several microts, then closed his eyes, but not before she saw the tears well up. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head at her waist, holding her close. Surprised, but grateful, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bending over to feel the softness of his hair against her cheek. Maybe she wouldn't have to push after all.

Then, remembering, she straightened up. "John, there is just one thing." She felt him stiffen. He looked up at her, his face twisted, now with pain and anger vying for dominance.

"What is it this time Aeryn?" his words were like pins piercing the surface of her skin, painful and precise. "What's your excuse for leaving me now?"

She looked at him, and tried unsuccessfully to hide her shock at his response. His trust in her was so fragile. As if everything that had been said the night before had simply vanished, evaporated into nothingness. She fought to keep her voice steady, and not to sound upset.

"The baby John; the stasis. We . . . I have to find a surgeon, to determine how long I've been pregnant. To determine how long I have before the stasis must be released."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief at how quickly he'd judged her.

"Damn; I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. Of course we have to go back. The baby. God, how could I have forgotten?"

She cupped his face in her hand, raised his head until he looked at her. "It's alright. I've conditioned you to expect me to leave at the top of a head. I underst-"

Top of a head?

"Drop of a hat Aeryn . . . leave at the drop of a hat . . ."

"Don't interrupt when I'm being understanding." She smiled down at him, relieved that he understood and wanted to go back with her. Not that she thought he wouldn't, but still . . .

"Oh - sorry, ma'am!" he grinned, then sobered. "But Aeryn - how long do you think we have? What happens if it's seven years but no release?"

"The embryo is absorbed into the mother's body."

"No baby?"

"No baby."

"And you have no idea how close you are to the seven years?"

"Not exactly. The med tech on the command carrier did not indicate a need for haste, but that was almost a cycle ago. I just don't want to wait much longer before knowing for sure."

"Yeah - and we have to find a surgeon, one we can trust not to turn us in for the reward . . ."

"I have some ideas about that. The difficulty will be returning without getting caught by bounty hunters or Scarrans."

Standing up, he looked down into her eyes. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

She thought then that he might kiss her. She could sense that he wanted to, and she tried to make it plain that she welcomed it, but instead he rested his forehead against hers. She sighed inwardly. What had he said to her, cycles ago? One step at a time. He had already taken so many steps since last night. She could wait until he was ready to do more.

"Come on, big mama; let's get you something to eat. Dad's downstairs making pancakes - you're going to love 'em - real maple syrup from Vermont-"

She half listened as John rattled on about cakes in pans, and how much she would love them. What she really loved, she thought, as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen, was how light his voice sounded, how devoid of pain and fear. She didn't know what had happened in the last few arns since he had awakened from the dream, but whatever it was had acted as a restorative for him, and she was grateful.

While she ate, John and Jack regaled her with story after story from Crichton family lore of memorable breakfasts. Soon her laughter was just as light hearted as John's. Jack stood watching them, satisfied that circumstances had worked to give them some relief from the strain they seemed to be under.

"Hey Dad, are those old photo albums still in the living room?"

"Yes, they are.  Haven't moved them."

"C'mon Babe, let me show you what we did to my baby sister the Halloween after Star Wars came out-"

Jack stood at the sink not wanting to follow them, content to listen to the sound of his son's laughter and irreverence, something he never thought he would hear again, at least not in this life. It was turning out to be a pretty good day after all.

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

John spent the rest of the day guiding Aeryn through the history of the Crichton family as recorded by his parents and various friends and relatives. First the photo albums, then the home movies and videotapes. Aeryn found it all fascinating.

So much to take in. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, graduations; rites of passage for his culture - he named and explained each one to her. She listened carefully, but mostly absorbed all that she could through the images she saw on the screen:

The sisters, from the time they were adored baby daughters, through graduations, career achievements, weddings, and adored sons and daughters of their own.

John's mother, constant watcher over everyone and everything, until others lovingly watched over her.

Jack, sometimes present, sometimes missing, but when there, providing a solid foundation for his family, while at the same time drawing strength from them.

DK, at first scared and uncomfortable, growing into a confident, funny young man.

And in the middle of everyone, everything, was John. From treasured firstborn son, to mischievous prankster, to giant playmate for tiny nieces, nephews, and cousins, his love for friends and family always evident, as theirs was for him.

Aeryn was alternately touched by seeing John as a child growing into the man she knew, and saddened by the enormity of what he had lost when that first wormhole opened up and stole him away. No wonder he had tried so relentlessly to get back. She'd thought she had known before, the desire to return home to friends and family. But now she understood the need to return to those who loved you. Who knew you, and still loved. Her understanding came from the images on the screen, but also, she realized, from her own struggle to return to Moya, and to return to him.

John watched her reactions throughout the afternoon, not wanting to overwhelm her, but almost desperate for her to understand what his life had been like, what his world was like before he had fallen down that swirling blue rabbit hole. He had spent almost four years living in a place where no one understood his reality. The sense of isolation had been enormous. If he were going to go back, he wanted to have at least one person who had an inkling of what his world was like. One person who would not look at him as if he were fahrbot whenever he talked about home. Who better than the woman he loved?

As the afternoon faded into evening, the images continued. They broke briefly for dinner, allowing Aeryn to experience his passion for pizza, up close and personal, as he said. When they resumed watching, his focus was still on helping her understand his world, but he was reminded also of all the things he would miss, or more importantly, things his children would never have if he returned to the UTs. He had always imagined he would take his kids to ball games and movies; teach them how to fish and fly a kite. Even if they could still do the kite flying bit, so much of the life he had assumed would be his would be lost to him once he left earth. And it would be his choice this time, not the random operation of some sudden space anomaly.

He turned and looked at her. Face luminous in the half light of the darkened room, body relaxed as she leaned forward, meeting the images coming off the screen; eyes brimming but not overflowing, full lips half smiling. He thought about all that had happened since she found him the night before, all the words spoken and yet to be spoken between them. He knew in that moment, with an unshakable certainty, that he could bear any loss, make any sacrifice, to be with her. Just as he had decided nearly a cycle ago on Moya, between earth and Aeryn, Aeryn would always be the right choice.

He reached out and took her hand, and her half smile blossomed into fullness, welcoming the gesture. Bringing her with him as he leaned back on the sofa, he rested his head on her shoulder, murmuring his continuous commentary softly into her ear. She closed her eyes briefly, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the contact, both hand and shoulder. She dared to increase it ever so slightly by resting her cheek against his head. She felt that the walls were truly down now; that he had turned some corner or crossed some barrier and he would not go back. They were in new territory, a place where he was willing to give her a chance to earn his trust, to show him that she would be careful with his heart.

They were almost at the end of the tapes. These last few were made after he had disappeared. He squeezed her hand a little tighter as they watched. The change in mood radiating from the screen was palpable. The strain of losing him was visible in voices and faces, with meaningful looks between adults struggling with their own pain in an effort to make happy memories for children. Aeryn watched as words were spoken and rituals created to remember John. And as she watched, she saw how gradually over the three cycles there were fewer tears, less strain, more smiles at the memories, a painful kind of joy in the rituals. She recognized the process she herself had only recently discovered, of letting go of a lost loved one, of making peace with life's altered expectations.

John watched and realized that his family and friends had found a way to survive his loss, and move on with their lives, in spite of the pain. He had always known they would, known how strong they were. But to see it gave him a strange sort of reassurance. As much as he wanted to be part of their lives, to be here to help those he loved, they would have full, happy lives without him. And it would be easier now that they knew he was alive. Yeah, he thought, it had been a wonderful life, but the place won't go to hell without me.

The last tape ended, and he flicked off the TV and VCR with the remote control. He sat up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on the endtable. Turning back to look at her, he wondered what she thought of his world now. Seeing the question on his face, she didn't wait for him to ask.

"That was beautiful John. Thank you so much for sharing your world, your family with me. There was so much I never understood before. Thank-you."

She was rewarded by the look of relief on his face, and, she thought, gratitude. "My pleasure, ma'am. C'mon," he said, standing and reaching for her hand, "let's turn in." Then pausing as if he expected a question from her, he began, "That's just an expression, it means-"

"I know what it means," she said smugly, remembering her conversation with Jack the night before. Then she said in english, "It means . . . to go . . . to . . . bed."

"Bingo, baby; that was perfect."

She smiled, pleased with herself for remembering the saying correctly. Maybe she wouldn't give up on this language after all.

As they started up the stairs, he paused again and asked, "So, you want to get a little bedtime snack?"

"No John, I'm not hungry. The pizza was quite filling."

"Now come on, big momma," grinned John, "you're eating for two now, gotta keep your strength up."

"John - I am eating only for myself - while the child is in stasis it has no nutritional needs. You have to stop thinking of this as an earth pregnancy; it's not. I don't even plan to release the stasis unless it is absolutely necessary."

He stopped, the grin disappearing from his face. Her words fell on him like a stone weight, pushing him down until he sat heavily on the bottom stair. "You don't plan to have the baby now?" His voice was flat, devoid of all emotion.

The sudden change in his face, his voice, sent a stab of fear through her. "John - we were just saying this morning - bounty hunters, Scarrans, Grayza - if we can wait, it seems prudent, rather than -"

"OK, OK Aeryn, you're right." He held up his hand, as if to ward off her logic. "I guess it's just hard for me when I think about you being pregnant not to expect a baby in nine - or, well, soon. Old Earth saying - there's never a good time to have a baby - there's always going to be something wrong. But I guess our circumstances are a little out of the ordinary."

"Yes, they are," she replied quietly. She had the sense that she had somehow hurt him again, wounded him in a way that she could not understand. She knew what she had said made sense; he had even agreed with her. But he was still sitting there on the stairs, looking as if he were being crushed under a great weight. Frell. Was she ever going to get this right?

"John, I'm sorry, I wish it were different, I wish we could have the baby now, but I just can't see how - if we don't have to -"

He attempted a small smile. "Aeryn, it's ok. You don't have to apologize. I guess when it comes to the baby I don't think too clearly." He paused, trying to shift his attention from the chasm that had opened up inside him when she said she would not have the baby now. He knew it made sense; but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. Were they ever going to be able to have anything they wanted? Was everything always going to be denied them?

"John, I-"

"Really, Aeryn, it's ok. I'll get over it. I don't even know why I'm making such a big deal out of it. The last thing we need is to have a baby to worry about while we're being chased through the UTs and tormented space. What kind of home is that for a kid anyway? Tormented space. Probably would warp the kid-"

"John." His rambling was starting to annoy rather than frighten her, and she hoped that was a good sign.

"Yeah? What?"

"Why don't we go on upstairs?"

"Oh, right. Sure, c'mon."

He stood, and started up the stairs again, but this time did not take her hand. She assured herself that it meant nothing, only that he was disappointed in the circumstances, not in her.

**********

[shipsister]

When they reached his room, she went into the bathroom to prepare for bed and change into her calvins. As she replayed in her mind the images she had seen that day, the depth of her need to make love to him caught her by surprise. She felt very close to him, and wanted to connect with him completely. She began to wonder if she could share a bed with him and keep the promise she made the night before.

You don't have a choice; you have to keep your promise, she told herself. He's depending on you, beginning to trust you again; you cannot fail him now. She remembered how easy it had been once, to shut out her need for him. Before Talyn. Before he was twinned. Even after she knew she loved him, she could suppress her physical need for him. Once she conquered the fear of loving him, she had been able to give her desires free rein during that perfect time on Talyn. But after the other one's death, the fear of losing this John led her to deny her need again. Having finally defeated that fear too, she only had to control her need long enough for him to overcome his fear. It should be easy, compared to what she had done in the past.

Coming back into the bedroom, firm in her resolve, she stopped short when she saw him standing near the windows, bathed in moonlight. His profile was turned towards her, and she was struck by the perfection of his face, the quiet strength of his body. It was all she could do not to cross over to him, wrap her arms around him, run her fingers through his hair, cover his mouth with hers, caress his-

Stop it, she told herself. You cannot help him like this. Remember all the times he denied himself in order to give you the space and time you needed. If he could do it, certainly you can too. Yes, but he never had to share a bed with me while I refused to make love to him. Oh dren, she sighed. How can I make him understand?

Deciding that the direct approach was best, she moved closer to him, stopping at the foot of the bed. "John, perhaps it's not a good idea for us to share . . . to stay together tonight. Perhaps I should go back to the sisters' room."

He turned to look at her. "Why? I thought . . . I mean, you said you didn't want to spend another night away . . . apart . . . I don't understand."

The look of confusion, of hurt on his face made her instantly regret what she had said, but maybe explaining would help. She took a step towards him.

"I don't want to spend another night apart, all I want is to be with you," she hoped the force behind her words would help him believe. "I just . . . I . . . as much as I want to stay with you, I don't want to break my promise to let you control . . . when, or whether, we're together."

"Why Ms. Sun, are you saying you don't trust yourself in bed with me?" He smiled and arched an eyebrow, but she could see the hurt still there, around the edges of his smile.

"John," she started gently, "it's just that after seeing so much of your life today, I feel so close to you, all I want is to make love to you." Dren. She hated feeling weak. She felt her training was failing her, causing her to fail him. "I don't want to take the chance tonight that I might do something that would break my promise, so I think it might be better if I didn't sleep with you." By the time she finished, the tears were welling up and spilling over.

When he saw her crying, he came over, gathered her in his arms. "Oh baby, don't cry. It's ok, don't cry. It's not your fault-"

It was all she could do to hold back a sob. Of course it's my fault, she thought, momentarily forgetting the reasons for leaving she had carefully explained the night before. If I had never left Moya that last time, never used that frellnik coin toss as an excuse, we'd be fine now, everything would be good between us, instead of so frelled.

He held her close, kissing her hair and murmuring comforting words to her until the tears stopped. He gave her some tissues from the box on the chest of drawers, and studied her as she wiped her face and blew her nose, noisily. She was suffering because she wanted to make love to him, and he was too afraid to take the risk. Because he was too afraid to share with her what Grayza had done to him, it stood between them, and left her crying in his arms.

Once she finished with her nose, she tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her arm, then rested his hands on her shoulders. Take the risk, his Dad had said.

He touched his forehead to hers. "Aeryn, baby, you shouldn't feel guilty for wanting the same thing I want." He held her chin in his hand, then lowered his head, angling in. She held her breath, waiting to feel his lips, longing for their softness, remembering their heat. As he touched his lips to hers, she couldn't suppress a moan of anticipation; she had imagined this moment for so long. She pressed herself closer to him, caressed the back of his neck as she gently pulled him toward her, to deepen the kiss.

"Um Aeryn, don't; stop." Right words, wrong meaning. He broke away from her, trembling, breathing deeply, on the edge of panic.

"John -" Her voice choked, she couldn't continue.

He turned away, cursing himself, wondering why he expected his reaction to be different this time. Part of him wished there were some way he could accuse her of breaking her promise, of not letting him control, but he knew she was just reacting to his actions, to the signals his body was sending to hers. When she'd said she didn't think she could share a bed without making love, he felt almost drunk with desire for her. And then when she began to cry, all he wanted to do was take the pain away. But as soon as she pulled him towards her, all he could see-feel-taste was Grayza. He couldn't help it; it was as if his brain were programmed. Turning back, he looked at her, the look on her face a mixture of pain, regret, confusion. God, what was he doing to her?

He sat down heavily on the side of the bed, rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. Dad was right. He had to take the risk. But kissing her wasn't the risk here. He had to tell her about Grayza.

She stood watching him as he sat, his head in his hands, still trembling from her touch.

I should have never pulled him closer, she scolded herself, never tried to deepen the kiss. I should have waited, and allowed him to make that choice, as I promised I would. But, she thought in her own defense, I thought by kissing me, he had made the choice. Well you were wrong, her guilty conscience retorted, you should have waited, to make sure.

Shaking her head to halt the debate, she sat down in the chair opposite him. She hung her head, eyes closed. She was afraid he felt betrayed, deserted. That she had once again failed him.

He watched as she sat silently. "Aeryn? Baby, I'm not mad at you. It's me . . . you were only doing what I wanted you to do - what I was too scared to do myself. I don't blame you . . ." He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, banish the pain and confusion. But he was afraid that if he tried, he'd end up running from her again.

He stood up instead, began pacing around the room, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. Why was he so afraid to tell her? Why was it even a risk? If something like this had happened to her, he'd want to know, and it wouldn't change how he felt about her, how he saw her. He wouldn't love her any less, any differently . . . .  He stopped pacing. Is that what he was afraid of, that she would look at him differently, if she knew?

He stood across the room from her, near one corner, his back toward her, staring at the wall as if it held the answers to all of their problems.

She watched him as he stood there, arms wrapped around his body, whether for self protection, or comfort, or both, she couldn't tell. But he said he didn't blame her, didn't feel betrayed by her. She hadn't really broken her promise, only followed his lead. She hadn't destroyed the fragile trust that had begun to grow between them. Her sense of relief was overwhelming and empowering.

"John."

He stood up straighter, but didn't turn around. He was listening, though, she was sure of it.

"I'm sorry for what happened just now. If I failed to prevent something that I should have, I apologize. I still mean what I said last night; you don't have to tell me anything until you're ready. We won't do anything, until you're ready."

He still didn't turn around; he just started shaking his head. She frowned, having no idea if it was in response to something she'd said, or to the entire situation, or something else.

She decided that the time had finally come to push; gently, at least to start. He's got to give me something, she thought. I cannot defeat an enemy I cannot see, or even name. I cannot do this alone.

"John . . . as I said, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But it's hard for me to know how to help you . . . what to do - or not do, without knowing more about what's troubling you. You don't have to tell me everything, but if you could tell me just a little . . . and you know don't you, that you can tell me anything?" She hadn't thought that needed to be said, but it occurred to her suddenly that some concern about her reaction might be holding him back.

"You don't have to protect me, you know that. After all we've been through, there's nothing that I would be unable to bear." She paused, to give him a chance to respond, uncomfortable doing so much of the talking.

The pause stretched over several microts before he spoke. His voice was so low that she was tempted to move closer to him, but she stayed in the chair, afraid he might panic again if she came too close.

"The dream," he started, almost whispering, "it was about Grayza."

She didn't say anything, having suspected as much. She waited for him to go on.

"I was dreaming about you, about us, about making love with you, and suddenly you were gone, and Grayza was there instead."

His words stirred something cold in her, but she let him continue.

"That's what happens, whenever I think about making love with you, when I kissed you just now - all I can see, all I can feel, is her, Grayza-" his breathing was ragged; she thought he might have stifled a sob. She did get up then, but forced herself to move over to him slowly.

"John, I don't understand. I see now why my touching you upset you - it brings Grayza back, but I don't understand why it brings Grayza back. If I knew just a little more, it would make it easier for me to help."

She was standing just denches away from him now, trying very hard to be non-threatening.

"How do you know?" he asked, his voice still very low. He could tell by her silence that she wasn't sure what he was asking her.

"How do you know what I tell you won't make a difference, in how you feel about me; how you see me?"

She frowned, thinking about his question, and why her answer was so certain. His back was still towards her, so he didn't see the frown fade into a sad smile. "When I first knew you, I had no idea what it meant to love someone, really love someone, and to love without conditions, without expectations. But you taught me, over the cycles, what it meant, to love beyond reason, beyond hope. When Chiana found the recording chip that proved I helped murder an innocent pilot, Moya's first Pilot, you never hesitated in your belief in me, you never wavered. It was the same when I told you what I had done to Velorek. I can't imagine a worse thing you could have learned about me-" she hesitated, the memory still painful, "but even that did not shake your belief in me; your love for me."

She moved a little closer then, but still did not touch him. "Do you think I did not learn from your example? That I love you less than you loved me then? Maybe I have not always shown you. Let me show you now."

He turned towards her. He understood that she was asking him to trust her, to believe in her love for him.

It's now or never, Johnny boy. He took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"When we were on Arnessk . . . have you ever heard of Heppel oil?"

"Heppel oil?" The coldness she'd felt earlier began to creep down her spine, settle in her stomach. "Yes . . . it's like . . . it makes you-"

"It makes you want to frell the brains out of whoever put it on you," he finished for her.

She nodded as the pieces began to fall into place. But knowing that he needed to say the words, she kept silent, willing away the tears she was afraid he would misinterpret.

"Grayza has the gland that produces it. She uses it like a drug. Uses it pretty well if I do say so . . . .  Makes it impossible for you to deny her anything. You'd say anything, tell her anything, desperate ... desperate to frell her. And she loves it." He laughed tightly, bitterly. "I think it must be the only way she gets any. Maybe that's why she got the damn gland in the first place."

He had found his way from pain to anger, and that gave him the strength to go on.

"She used it on me," he continued with a slight shudder. "We only survived because she didn't know all the right questions to ask."

He paused again, knowing that he had not directly said all he needed to say. He stole a glance at her, to try to gauge her reaction. She had her Perfect Peacekeeper mask on, the one he had come to know so well when she first returned from Talyn. He wondered idly if that meant she felt in some way he had died. He shook his head to rid himself of that thought. Give her a chance. Trust her.

Aeryn saw his sideways glance at her, knew he had comprehended her blank, unemotional gaze. She had let the coldness envelope her; she had no choice. She had to gain control of all the emotions his revelations had released in her. She was afraid they would send her careening in every direction, so full of hatred for Grayza and pain at what had been done to him, that she would be useless to him. The only way she knew to control them was to shut them all down. Then, she could decide which ones to release, and to what extent.

"Aeryn?" The fear in his voice brought her back, however, forced her to decide immediately how much to keep contained, what to release. She dropped the mask enough to show him that she did care, and understand, and would give him the support he needed. She struggled to show him mainly her love, but only a little of the pain. None of the hatred. Not yet.

"John. I'm so sorry . . . I . . . for what she did . . ." Deep, even breathing. Conscious control of tears. "Thank you, for trusting me enough-"

He grimaced, then interrupted her. "Let me finish." The urgency behind his words surprised her, as if he were on a path he was compelled to follow to the end, refusing any offered short cuts, no matter how tempting.

He looked directly into her eyes, held her in his gaze.

"I frelled her, Aeryn. I frelled her over and over again. And I spilled my guts. I told her everything she wanted to know. If she had asked me where you were, and if I had known, I would have told her."

His face twisted at the thought he was capable of betraying her.

She laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. His eyes shifted, looking down and away from her. "John, you must know that was not your fault, you had no control, no more than you would have had in the Aurora chair. Grayza is the one at fault here; she attacked you, assaulted you-"

"Raped me?" he finished for her, looking directly at her again, tears slowly streaming down his face.

She nodded slowly, feeling that perhaps the worst was over, now that he had been able to name what had been done to him. She opened her arms, and he leaned forward, accepting the comfort of her embrace. He laid his head on her shoulder, and let the tears come.

"Oh God, Aeryn she raped me." She held onto him tightly as he continued to cry, the tears intensifying into sobs.

Abruptly, the sobs became grim laughter.

"You want to know what the kicker is?" He pulled back, looking at her again. "I went back! I let her recapture me, and I went back and let her do it all over again! How's that for being a team player? I should've at least gotten the goddamned game ball!"

As his tense laughter reverted to sobs, he collapsed back onto her. Still holding him, she eased down onto the floor, and leaned them both back against the foot of the bed. Gently stroking his hair, she tried to remember and repeat all the comforting words he had said to her, tried to let him feel the depth of her love. To show him nothing had changed for her.

She cradled him there on the floor for over half an arn, as his sobs finally slowed to tears, his tears to shudders, his shudders to even, quiet breathing. Silent now, she held him until she was certain he was calm again. Kissing his forehead, she moved to reach for the box of tissues. As her body shifted to stand, he held onto her more tightly, and whispered anxiously, "Don't leave me Aeryn, please don't leave me."

Berating herself for not explaining her movements, she looked at him for a microt, and wondered how she could have ever thought of sleeping anywhere but in his arms. Gently touching his face, she clarified, "John, I just want to get you those wipes on the top of the drawers. Don't you know by now that I'll never leave you?" She smiled as she could see he remembered the promise he had once made her. He relaxed, loosened his grip and let her stand.

She got the tissues, watched as he used them, baffled that humans could have invented something so useful when she had never seen its equivalent on her end of the universe. Pure duck luck, as John would say.

She sat back down beside him on the floor. He was resting his head against the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Feeling better?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, guess so. A good cry'll do that for you." There was no joy in his smile.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure baby."

"Before, you said something about a kicker, going back . . . a team? I don't understand. What did you mean?"

He fought the urge to deflect her question, to pretend it was just another fahrbot human expression. Instead, he told her about D'Argo's plan, the need to distract Grayza so they could escape. He watched as she closed her eyes and the Perfect Peacekeeper mask came back for a few microts. Then she breathed deeply, opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I don't understand how D'Argo could ask you to do that." The tightness in her voice suggested she planned to take it up with D'Argo as soon as she saw him again.

"Baby it's ok. D'Argo only asked me to do what had to be done. I understood that. And you know he wouldn't ask me to do anything he thought would really hurt me."

But it did hurt you, she thought. D'Argo needs to comprehend that before he asks someone to -

"Aeryn. Stop baby. Please."

Looking at him, she realized that more than anything he didn't want D'Argo to know how his experience with Grayza had affected him. Deciding she could give him that, placated by knowing he had shared something with her that he could not share with D'Argo, she nodded, then changed the subject.

"Do you want me to get you anything? Some water?"

"No. I'm ok." Relieved that she understood, he realized that he did feel better. Releasing the memory of Grayza had released much of the pain; put an end, he hoped, to the panic. But still, there was something . .

She saw his frown. "What is it John? What's wrong?"

He turned his head, still resting against the bed, and stared at her for several microts.

"I don't know . . . it is better now, Grayza is pretty much out of my head. I just can't help feeling . . . I know it's stupid, but when I think about it, it feels like I cheated on you somehow; maybe because I wanted her so badly. Even though I tried to fight it, I still wanted her . . ." He paused, and when he continued, she recognized shame in addition to the pain. "I wanted her, and I enjoyed it; god Aeryn I enjoyed it-"

Frustrated, Aeryn interrupted. "Don't you see that no matter what you felt, you had no choice? How could what she did to you possibly touch what we have - could have - together? What she did was like a hundred different torture devices the Peacekeepers have. It was horror and pain and cruelty. What we have - can have - together is so pure, so perfect -"

The sound that erupted from him started as a laugh but ended as a grunt of derision.

"Yeah, so you've said. Perfect." He shot up off the floor and began pacing around the bedroom again. She stared at him, her mouth open, stunned into silence by his sudden anger.

"Newsflash, Aeryn, I'm not perfect - never have been, never will be. Me and the other guy may have started out the same, but that ended probably during the first weeken you were gone. Perfect, huh? I still can't figure out how he pulled that off. Maybe there was a time I could have done it, too. I don't know. But not now. Not now."

Shaking his head, his outburst ending as quickly as it began, he slowed his pacing, as if his dissipating anger carried his energy away as well. He stopped, looked down at her.

"For the longest time I've been trying to figure out how he did it. How he made it so perfect. I just can't quite get it; it keeps sliding away from me . . . it's worse than wormholes ever were." She recognized the look on his face as the one she'd seen earlier in the day, the look of eternal struggle with a painful puzzle.

Sighing, he sat down on the floor across from her, back against the chest of drawers, legs crossed. "I'm sorry Aeryn. You deserve perfect, and I can't give you that. Sooner or later you'd have figured it out yourself. That it's not the same with me. Not as good . . . can't be. Too much damage. I tried to find a way not to disappoint you, but I couldn't. I'm sorry." The last was barely a whisper. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to contain his tears, surprised that he had any left.

She sat across from him, not knowing what to say. She had tried to map out every possibility of how he might react to her efforts, and how she could respond. But he kept surprising her.

Her knees pulled up to her chest, she leaned her forehead on them, fingers pressing against her closed eyes. She thought back to that conversation aboard Moya, nearly a cycle ago, when she first used that word to describe her time with the other one on Talyn. What had she meant then, when she said it was perfect? What did she mean now, when she said it could be? So much had happened since then, to both of them. Neither of them was the same as those two on Talyn. Was he right? Was she chasing a dream, an illusion? She sat silently for several microts.

Finally, she opened her eyes, sat up, and looked at him.

"John Crichton. Have I ever given you the impression that I thought you were perfect?"

"Well no, Aeryn, but you just said -"

She shook her head. "I know what I said John. I never said he was perfect, or that you are perfect. When I said it was perfect between us, I meant-" She paused, frowning. All their difficulties had come from the outside, never from anything between them. She knew eventually there would have been problems; there just hadn't been time. But even then, she knew, her description would not have changed.

"When I said it was perfect, even when I said we were perfect, I didn't mean him, or me. I meant . . . the feelings between us. How we were, together. It doesn't mean I don't expect us - you and me - to have problems. I know they will come. They always have." She acknowledged his brief smile with one of her own. She thought for a few more microts, forehead crinkled, eyes inwardly focused. "It's just that . . . it's like . . . with my prowler, or your module - we have to work to maintain them, keep them running smoothly. Sometimes they break down, but we repair them, and we'll keep repairing them, as long as we're able, because when they're running well, and we're flying - it's perfect."

Damn, he thought, you just made an analogy, baby. You really have changed. Wiping away his tears, he thought about what she'd said. Perfection, not in the abstract, but in the execution. And not without breakdowns, and constant work and attention.

She watched as surprise, then understanding worked its way across his face. He nodded slowly, moving over to sit beside her. Reaching out, he trailed a finger down the side of her face.

"Aeryn Sun . . . have I told you lately just how much I love you?"

The rush of emotion that overtook her left her breathless, making it difficult for her to speak. She had not expected to hear the words so soon; had not been upset at his failure to say them. She recognized that his coming so far, so fast, was a sign not only of the resilience of his spirit, but also of the depth of his love.

Finally able to breathe again, she answered him. "No, you haven't."

"Well, then it's time I corrected that oversight." He leaned over, brushed his lips across hers, tangled one hand in her hair, while letting the other wander under her tee shirt, up, then down her back. Then he kissed her, and the taste of him sent her senses spinning. She returned the kiss, her mouth hungry for him, her hands in his hair, on his neck, across his back. While one part of her brain registered that he was not running from her, the rest of her consciousness was reveling in the pure joy of being close to him again.

He stopped kissing her, held her face between his hands, looked directly into her eyes.

"I love you, Aeryn Sun. Now and forever."

She felt the tears well up as she cradled his face in her hand.

"And I love you, John Crichton. Now and forever."

They kissed as if sealing a vow.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. He could still feel echoes of Grayza around the fringes of his awareness, but she could no longer control him. Almost giddy with the realization that his fantasy was about to become reality, he buried his hands in Aeryn's hair again, kissing her deeply, intending to take his time making love to her, savoring every microt, every sensation.

Understanding he wanted to move slowly, she focused on beating back her rising passion. Remember, it's only his second time - our second time. And he had worked so hard at freeing himself from the effects of Grayza's horrors; at making it possible for them to act on their desires, with no interference from the Commandant. Aeryn wanted to acknowledge and reward his success by ensuring that everything was just as he wanted it.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back as he moved his kisses to her neck, her ear, the spot where neck joined shoulder, gently sucked . . . but instead of the reaction he anticipated, the pang of pleasure she expected, grief at the loss of the other one clutched at her heart.

He felt her freeze up, pull slightly away.

"What's wrong baby? What's the matter?" A little breathless but completely focused on her.

She shook her head, tried to smile, to pretend there were no tears gathering. She had expected his touch to be the same, to evoke the same sensations; it was what she craved. But she hadn't expected that sameness to rekindle her sense of loss, and with such intensity.

"Aeryn. Talk to me, babe."

She shook her head again. She was afraid if she tried to speak, all the grief that had suddenly welled up inside of her would come spilling out and engulf both of them. Why was this happening now? Why would the reality of the other one's loss return to prevent this last step forward to the life she yearned for? She took a deep breath, tried to speak; couldn't.

But he could see it; pain that had attacked so swiftly and completely that she had not had time to resurrect the mask, leaving her suffering plainly visible on her face. And he knew there was only one thing that could do this to her.

"It's the other guy, isn't it? I . . . what we're doing, reminded you of him?"

She shook her head, relieved that there was no tightness, no jealousy in his voice, but needing him to know it wasn't a memory of making love with the other one that had stabbed at her. Fighting for control, she finally managed to choke out, "It's his death. I . . . it just . . . just now, it all came back to me . . . I didn't think it could still hurt this much."

"I know, baby, I know." And he did know. Years after his mother had died, a stray thought, a certain smell, a remembered emotion, could bring the sense of loss back as strong as it had been the day after her death.

As he drew her closer, rocked her, kissed her hair, he tried to think of what he could do to make it easier for her. He knew he couldn't stop the pain from coming - he had no control over that. But maybe he could help weaken the link between making love now and memories of the other guy. Maybe create a new context for their lovemaking, one that would give new meaning to the same feelings. Old wine, new bottle.

When the idea came to him, he smiled slowly, chuckled to himself. Tears finally stilled, back in control, she looked up at him, with sad but hopeful eyes. "What's so funny?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to put a challenge in her voice.

"Besides our existence?" But he grinned back at her, and she felt the warmth returning, the pain receding, not just controlled.

"Baby, have you ever had a bubble bath?" Almost certain he knew the answer, his smile grew at the perplexed look she gave him.

"A what?"

"A bubble bath. You know - a tub, water -"

"I know what a bath is John. But bubbles? What kind of frellnik human -"

"Just wait right here, ok?"

"Where are you going?"

"Ahhh . . . to get some stuff from the girls' room - you'll see."

As he left, she couldn't help but smile. Whatever this fahrbot bath idea was, it had him practically bouncing out of the room. His enthusiasm was endearing, and contagious. His quest to banish the pain meant everything to her. Pulling her knees back up to her chest, she rested her chin on them, closed her eyes, and let the reality of his love slowly settle into her, pushing the sadness aside, replacing it with a quiet contentment she had been afraid she would never feel again.

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

[shipsister]

John started across the hall to his sisters' room, then hesitated and walked down the hallway instead, to his Dad's room. He knocked on the door, and was relieved as his father opened it, still awake and dressed.

"Um, Dad? I was wondering if . . . well, if Aeryn and I could have the house to ourselves for a couple of hours . . . some privacy?" He felt himself blush. As difficult as it was to ask, he was afraid if his Dad was in the house, he would feel . . . inhibited.

Jack studied John's face for a few moments.

"So, I take it you and Aeryn had that talk?"

"Well, yeah, Dad, we did. We talked about a lot of stuff. If we talked any more they'd have to give us our own reality show."

"You feel like things are back on track for you two now?"

Jeez Dad, what's with the twenty questions? "I guess so; at least as on track as they'll ever be. We're not exactly your typical all-American couple."

Jack grinned. "No, I guess you're not."

Before Jack could ask another question, John said quickly, "Look, Dad, Aeryn's waiting; how about it? Can you give us a couple of hours?"

Jack considered for a moment, then nodded. "I think I can find something to do; a late movie, then maybe pick up a few things at the 24 hour superstore."

"Thanks Dad."

Jack smiled inwardly at the look of relief that came over his son's face. "No problem, son."

As John turned to leave, Jack couldn't resist. "Ah, son, are you sure two hours will be long enough? It's been a while, but I seem to recall that reunions, especially after major break-ups, could be quite . . . invigorating."

John blushed again, so deeply that Jack thought he might have busted something. "OK, Dad, I'm not gonna argue about that; how about three hours?"

"Sounds good, son. Or maybe you could hang a towel out a window as an all clear sign?"

John looked at his Dad, and just shook his head. "Three hours, Dad, just give us three hours, ok?"

Laughing, Jack responded, "You've got it, son."

"'Night, Dad," John said, still shaking his head as he turned to go back down the hall.

"Goodnight, son," Jack answered, convinced John was the only test pilot alive who got embarrassed talking about sex. Must get that from his mother's side of the family, Jack decided.

Despite his teasing, Jack was relieved that his son had managed to work things out with Aeryn. He sensed that John needed her strength to face whatever it was he had been dealing with out there. In fact, he realized, John no longer seemed tired, defeated. If wandering around in the middle of the night would support his son's reclaiming even a portion of his old self, he was happy to do it.

As he looked for the newspaper to decide how to spend the next few hours, Jack couldn't help but feel that his advice had played a part in the resolution of their problems. Guess the old man still knows something, he smiled to himself, as he prepared to give them the space they needed to create their own special ending to a memorable day.

**********

When John came back, Aeryn was examining the souvenirs from his youth that filled his room. After the guided tour he had given her earlier in the day, she understood most of what she saw without explanation. Gratified that she was still interested, John indicated she should continue as he went into the bathroom and closed the door. When he reappeared almost a quarter of an arn later, his lopsided grin would have been invitation enough for her. But he came over to her, held out his hand, and said with a flourish and a bow,
"M'lady, your bath awaits."

She gave him what she hoped was a look of derision, but he could tell she was working very hard not to laugh. Taking his hand, she let him lead her into the bathroom.

He had turned off the light, and placed several candles strategically around the small room. Their flickering glow cast soft shadows against the walls, creating an air of quiet intimacy. Something he called a CD player sat on the counter across from the bathtub, playing music softly.

Unable to resist, she examined the contents of the tub. It was about half filled with water, and topped with a white substance that reminded her more of soapsuds than bubbles. She wrinkled her nose at the mingled scents of the bath and candles that recalled one of Zhaan's soothing concoctions.

He watched her, satisfied that this was truly a new experience for her, pleased that he could spark her curiosity.

"Why don't you stick your elbow in and make sure it's not too hot for you?" he suggested.

"My elbow?"

"Yeah-" He stopped himself from explaining the best way to test a baby's bath water, deciding the mention of babies might spoil the mood he was aiming for. "Just try it Aeryn," he encouraged.

Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, she knelt down on the carpet, stuck in her elbow. The water was comfortably warm, not hot.

"It's fine John." As she stood, she smiled in spite of herself, no longer able to hide her pleasure at his efforts.

Rather than reassuring him, however, the smile seemed to unnerve him.

"OK, I guess the next thing is to get in." He felt like a teenager on his first date. Second date, he corrected himself. "I figured I'd get in first, and then you could . . . uh, get in and . . . ah, sit on my lap."

Her smile became a smirk as she arched a brow. "Well, don't we have to get undressed first?"

He started laughing, her lightness dispelling his anxiety. Reaching down, he scooped up a handful of bubbles and managed to spread some on her nose, chin and forehead before she scooped what was left out of his hand and smashed them into his face. They both dissolved into laughter, falling into each other's arms. As the laughter threatened to become uncontrollable, the mutual tickling began. Gasping for air, she decided it was time for defensive measures.

Sensing the change in her stance, he stopped his attack and raised his hands as if in surrender.

"Babe, if you start throwing me around in here, I'm liable to hit my head on something very hard. Even CPR won't help me then." He grinned at her exasperated look, and moved closer to her.

"There are other ways you can get me to stop tickling you, you know."

"Oh really?" she responded, knowing where he was going, but intent on making him work for it. "Such as?"

"Well," he started, wrapping his arms around her, his hands firmly planted on her butt. "There's this." Blowing the few remaining bubbles out of the way, he kissed her, slowly, deeply, his tongue lazily searching the interior of her mouth, while his hands pressed and caressed her butt with equal thoroughness.

"Ummm," she managed when he stopped for air. "I'm not sure that will be effective."

"OK, how about this?" He planted soft kisses down the side of her face, around the top of her tee shirt, while his hands moved up under her shirt, caressing and creating friction in sensitive spots.

"Not bad," she responded, attempting to hold on to rational thought. "But if you really want to convince me, you're going to have to get rid of these clothes."

"Your wish, baby, my command," he responded, lifting her tee shirt up, watching with pleasure her hair cascade from the shirt as it passed over her head. His pleasure increased exponentially as his gaze settled on the ample curves revealed by his removal of her shirt. Momentarily stunned by the vision, he was brought back to consciousness by Aeryn's persistent tugging on his tee shirt. His quickly joined hers on the floor, as he reached out to pull her towards him.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest, twisting her fingers in the wiry hair. "John, what about the sudsy bath? The water is going to get too cold for you if we keep this up." She didn't want him to think she had forgotten his effort to create something special for her. And she was curious . . .

With great difficulty he forced himself to focus on what she was saying. "Ah, right, babe; the bubble bath." Placing one hand over hers on his chest, he leaned in and kissed her, his other hand reaching inside her calvins, gripping her butt, and pulling her toward him. Feeling her moan in response, her cool skin against his, he breathed into her ear, "You know what babe? I really couldn't give a fekkik's eema about the water right now."

Spurred on by his urgency, she decided she could wait for the sudsy bath if he could, and covered his lips with an insistent kiss. At his enthusiastic response, she began to massage his chest with the hand that rested there, while her other hand tugged at his jeans. Unable to move them, she stopped tugging and slipped her hand inside his calvins, illustrating her need to be rid of them.

Getting the message, he quickly disposed of his jeans and both their calvins.

And then he stopped, all movement stilled as he looked at her in the soft glow of the candlelight, amazed at how inadequate his memory of her beauty had been. Or maybe she had grown more beautiful over time.

"Why are you staring at me?" she teased, enjoying the effect her body had on him. She understood his reaction perfectly, since she was equally mesmerized by the sight of him, reviewing every line of his body, already permanently etched in her mind. It took all of her control to delay reacquainting herself with the familiar, introducing herself to the new. But she made herself wait, to give him a chance to live out the fantasy she knew he had nourished for almost three cycles.

"Was I staring?" he finally managed to get out. Reaching into her hair again, he pulled her close, whispered "I want to know all of you, Aeryn, all of you."

She closed her eyes in anticipation, growing passion and need threatening to break loose from her careful control.

Slowly, deliberately, he began his exploration at her forehead, intent on working his way down her body, dench by dench, caressing, probing, stimulating with gentle hands and insistent mouth, determined to leave no point on her body untouched, unappreciated. Giving special attention to sensitive areas, he lingered at each one until his actions were rewarded by her breathless reaction.

As his exploration continued, she leaned against the counter, hands gripping the edges as if she feared she might levitate from pure pleasure. When he reached her waist and showed no signs of pausing, she took what she knew would be her last opportunity to remind him of his original plan, and to let him know she remembered.

"John?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'd . . . ummm . . . really like to . . . ah . . . oh! . . .ah . . .  yes, there . . . oohhh . . . try the . . . you know . . . the frothy bath."

He was on his knees now, looking up at her with a silly grin on his face, desire lighting his eyes. "Aeryn? Baby, it's ok if the water gets cold; we can always warm it up later."

She stared at him for a microt, then joined him in laughter, as he pulled her down onto the carpet, determined to continue his exploration until she affirmed - loudly and at great length - that his efforts had been an unqualified success.

***********

Several arns later, they lay in bed together, bodies entwined, Aeryn's head resting on his chest. After they'd made thorough use of the bathroom floor, they'd continued their adventures in a re-warmed bubble bath, then in the shower to remove the remnants of the bubbles, then, warm and wrinkled and softly scented, in his bed.

Skirting the edge of sleep, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other gently massaging her back, John marveled at the distance they had traveled in the last 30 hours. He knew that if Einstein hadn't pulled him into that wormhole and she hadn't followed, they'd still be on Moya, the wall between them, wasting precious time. Being on earth had given them an uninterrupted opportunity to focus on the things that were most important to them. And it didn't hurt that he couldn't get to Granny's drugs, he admitted reluctantly to himself.

Feeling her stir against him, he looked at her, smiled. "Did you enjoy your bubble bath?"

She didn't say anything, just moved up and kissed him so deeply, he thought she might be trying to climb inside him.

When she finally released him, he nuzzled her nose with his. "I'll take that as a yes," he whispered, tightening his embrace.

She gave him one of her dazzling smiles. "Good choice," she whispered back, returning her head to his chest. She felt the soldier's satisfaction of successfully completing a campaign that had many more opportunities for failure than victory. She knew, however, that it wasn't really the soldier who had succeeded, but the woman she had grown to become.

As she drifted off to sleep, she decided that earth might not be such a fahrbot planet after all. She'd have to remember to take some of those wipes back with them. And he'd have to devise a way for them to re-create the frothy baths on Moya. On a regular basis.

He felt her enter the stillness of sleep, and knew that he would soon join her. They both needed rest to prepare for the tasks ahead of them. Tomorrow they would have to tell Dad they were leaving, although he didn't think his Dad would be surprised. Jack knew as well as he did that Aeryn would be in danger if anyone found out about her. And he had to admit he didn't trust the powers that be and what they might do to him once he went back to IASA for more testing. Slipping government surveillance, getting to his module and returning to Moya would not be easy. Jack had already used his connections to get him released for this visit home; but John knew his Dad would use whatever remaining resources he had to help them escape. And no matter what the plan, it was bound to go wrong in a hundred different ways. But lying in his bed, in his room, in his home, with Aeryn sleeping in his arms, he believed they would do it. Maybe that wheel had finally, at last, come 'round.

Sighing deeply, finally sliding into sleep, he allowed himself to believe again in life's infinite possibilities.


The end.

Thanks for reading!

[shipsister]

A delightfully detailed and gripping story.  You really put our lovebirds
through the emotional wringer that they needed to squeeze
everything out into the open.  Thanks.

It's great to finally see J/A get it all out in the open, and begin to work through it successfully.  Great set of stories....

ships,
Wonderful the first time.  More so now.  Your writing is exceptionally fantastic!  Imagery is great, dialogue very realistic, characterization wonderful.
Thanks so much.

Joe,
Florida Redleg

Thank you for that thrilling ride! Finally that little talk that they needed to have so they could begin again. I love the way you write!

Very intense and compelling story! The character and emotions are very much on target. John's internal battle with the past and present are very well played. A very hard hitting tale. Thanks for sharing!:)