Tell Me True (G)

Originally posted 3/18/04

The whole time I was writing this, I felt like I was writing some post-Fractures fic where John and Aeryn finally get to talk, LOL.... But I really wanted to explore some of the issues that their impending parenthood might bring up, especially with them basically being pretty new to this whole relationship (marriage!) thing....

Many thanks to the Bunnies as a whole for answering the occasional "question for a fic!" and to imloco2, shipsister and shipscat for encouragement (and nagging about the ending), and to MadScientist for asking the obvious about the trashcan....

Rating: G (with a bit of inuendo)
Setting: 6 or 7 months post-Bad Timing
Spoilers: Through BT
Disclaimer: These are not my characters and this is NOT my universe, and I'm eternally grateful that I get to play with them. No harm intended!

Enjoy, I hope!

Tell Me True

Slouched in a chair in Moya's center chamber, Crichton toyed with the half-empty bottle of fellip nectar standing on the table in front of him, and then decided against taking another chug. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was hiding out. No one was likely to come there so soon after mid-meal, which was fine by him.

He reached for another hard round piece of fried dough that Chiana had called a donut hole. He wasn't about to eat it -- it was in his opinion very definitely a failed culinary attempt -- but it was solid enough to serve nicely as a projectile. The waste funnel across the room made a passable target. John pulled his arm back, aimed, and let the rock-like lump fly, putting just a little spin on it.

Clang! As it hit the inner edge and circled the inside of the funnel, the donut hole made a satisfying metallic whirring sound. Keeping his mind blank, he hurled two more donuts in quick succession, grunting in satisfaction when they, too, swirled around the opening and disappeared into Moya's depths.

"Nice shot," came a gruff voice from across the room.

He looked up to see D'Argo leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, and a look of mild concern on his face. John had no idea how long his friend had been there.

"What's wrong?" the Luxan asked.

"Nothing." Clang!

"Did you have a fight with Aeryn?"

"Nope." The denial was too quick, but it was actually the truth.

D'Argo narrowed his eyes and asked, "If I asked Aeryn the same question, would I get the same answer?"

"Yep." He tossed another lump of dough at the make-shift basket. Hell, Aeryn was too wrapped up in the coming baby -- her baby, he thought, and sniffed in irritation -- to even notice he was pissed off.

D'Argo walked over and sat down next to John. "Well, something is making you disagreeable as an unmated flibisk." When John didn't reply, D'Argo's eyes widened and his mouth formed a perfect "O".

"No. No, no, no, we're fine there, thank you. Fine." Memories of this morning's wake up call almost lifted his mood.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, because Lo'laan--"

In no mood to use the effects of pregnancy hormones on a Sebacean woman's libido as a bonding experience, John glared, and his friend stopped dead.

D'Argo regarded the human for a few microts and then announced, "Well you may not have been fighting with Aeryn before, but you soon will be if you don't button out of this mood."

"Snap," John said automatically. "Snap out of it." He could swear that D'Argo's English malapropisms were worse now, after having spent some time on Earth actually speaking the language, than in previous cycles when he'd simply been trying to copy John. The stray thought was enough to push him past his annoyance with D'Argo, anyway, and he smiled at the Luxan.

"All right," D'Argo said in satisfied response. "That's better. Now, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

He contemplated sidestepping the question, but hell, if you couldn't grouse about your wife to your best friend, who could you bitch at? "It's 'the baby' this and 'the baby' that, and 'Do you think this would be safe for the baby?' Can't she give it a rest?" He looked at D'Argo with self-righteous frustration.

There was dead silence for a moment as the two men gazed at each other. The Luxan's expression did not hold the expected sympathy, and John frowned. "What?"

Never one to beat around the bush, D'Argo finally said, "You're jealous of your child."

"No. Yes." John shook his head. "I don't know." Feeling like three kinds of jerk, because what kind of man was jealous of an itty bitty baby, he said, "The kid isn't even here yet. How can I be jealous?"

D'Argo gave Crichton a look that the human hadn't seen in a few cycles, the one that suggested that D'Argo thought he was defective, and launched into an oh-so-patient lecture. "John. Aeryn has a new life growing inside of her. She can't forget about it. It kicks her. It's frelling up her balance. She can't put her boots on because she can't reach the buckles. The baby is always on her mind. How can it be otherwise?"

Well, geez.... He'd really never thought about it that way, but still....

"This is Aeryn we're talking about here," John said in his own defense. "She was raised to shoot things, not nurture them." He paused for a moment. "I'm really glad she's excited about the baby, D. It means a lot to me. I just didn't expect her to go all �ber-mom on me. It's freaking me out, man."

He was distracted for a microt by the image of Aeryn, a string of pearls setting off her usual black leather, feeding a cherubic infant while field-stripping a pulse pistol at the same time. Freaking him out, indeed! He shook his head and looked back at D'Argo.

The Luxan dropped his arm across John's shoulder. "Remember that she loves you, and she is giving you the greatest gift she can: your child. A little preoccupation is a small price to pay, don't you think?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," John said, and he meant it, but his mind wandered off again, this time to his last conversation with Aeryn, the one that had pissed him off enough that he was sitting here, sulking, instead of helping her in the baby's room.

There she stood, looking like she'd swallowed a basketball, sorting through a pile of bedding she'd unearthed from some storeroom on one of Moya's upper tiers. She wrinkled her nose and discarded several rough-looking blankets. "My child will never feel a Peacekeeper blanket on her skin!"

"Our child," he corrected with irritation. "Our child will never have a PK blankie."

"Yes. That's what I said," she replied, without looking up from herself-imposed chore.

But that wasn't what she'd said at all, and it wasn't the first time, either...and if she couldn't hear the difference....

Sitting now in the common room, John realized it was more than just feeling ignored. D'Argo was right; that was an occupational hazard of being an expectant father. And Aeryn wasn't actually ignoring him. She was just being...thorough...about making sure they were ready for the baby when it came. He might have to remind himself of that from time to time, but, he could live with it.

But somehow, lately, she'd gotten very possessive when she referred to the baby. She didn't always do it, but every time she said, "my child" or "my baby," it cut him to the quick, and he wondered why. D'Argo's presence forgotten, John dug around in his mind for the reason he was so touchy about the subject. She never contradicted him when he said "our child." She never contradicted him when he corrected her. Hell, back when she'd told him the baby was out of stasis and growing, she'd said, "It's yours." So what the frell was bothering him?

And the jealous part of him, the one that had just been brooding about how much time Aeryn was spending thinking about the baby, stepped up to the plate and said, Hey, Slugger! "It's yours" just means it has your DNA....

Yeah, so? he thought, determined not to rise to the bait his own mind was offering. The other guy was me, and we don't go there any more. Aeryn's my wife, and her kid is mine.

It'll look like you, but you didn't put it there.

What difference does that make?

Ask Aeryn, Jealous John said with a shrug.

"Go away. You're as bad as Harvey," John said out loud.

"John?" D'Argo was looking at him with concern. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, D'Argo. I should get back to Aeryn and see if she needs any help."

But he really wasn't all right. Because five minutes ago he had no conscious doubts about it, but now he was suddenly very afraid that Aeryn didn't think of the baby as his at all.... Goddamit, why did these things always come back to bite you in the ass? Why couldn't they stay decently buried? Too much thinking, Johnny Boy....

It was the green-eyed monster's fault, of course, and he shouldn't listen to it at all, but this time he was going to take its advice: Ask Aeryn. If he didn't, he knew he'd never be able to let it go. Wasn't that what being married was about? Not letting things come between them when they could work them out?

He stood up and brushed his hands together, removing the last of the crumbs from the donut holes he'd been tossing earlier in an attempt not to think.

"You're sure you're all right?" D'Argo inquired, before letting John leave the room.

Distracted, John waved his hand at his friend dismissively, and headed out into the corridor.

The closer he got to the room they were setting up for the baby, the slower he walked. The last thing he wanted to do was start a fight, but he could easily picture himself going in on the attack. You can do it, he told himself. You're a husband, and you're going to be a father, and you can handle this like a grown up. Just ask her calmly and deal with whatever she says. His stomach curdled at the thought of what she might say, but he kept walking.

As he took a deep breath and entered the room, Aeryn turned and flashed him a welcoming smile. "Hi! Where did you disappear to?" she asked without rancor.

"Oh, I just had some stuff to take care of," he said, giving her what he hoped was an innocent smile.

She frowned slightly at him, but didn't actually say anything. Damn! She knew something was bothering him. She could see through him faster than his mother ever could....

"Nothing, really," he babbled. Coward! he accused himself. "Can I help you with that?" he rushed on. "What have you got there?" he said, gesturing towards the pile of neatly folded cloth she'd been stacking on the chest of drawers he'd made for the baby's things.

"Well," she began, "I've found three ulari blankets that can be cut down to fit the bed you made, thank you again for that, by the way." She smiled again and nodded towards the crib that stood along the wall, waiting for the child that would be coming soon. "And I think the regular sheets we all use are soft enough to do nicely as well. Pilot says the DRDs can help with the sizing."

But he was hardly listening, and she knew it, and she finally turned away from her treasures and cocked her head at him. "What's wrong?"

Okay, buddy, put up or shut up, he thought. John looked across the room for a moment at the things he'd made for the baby, and then looked back at his wife. He could feel her apprehension grow as he reached out and touched the center of her chest. He drew strength from the connection to her, and took a deep breath and opened his mouth. As gently as he could, he asked, "In your heart, do you really think of the baby as mine? I mean, since I didn't, you know...." He trailed off, hoping she'd understand. He really didn't want to explain any more than that.

Aeryn looked puzzled, but she'd apparently understood the question. "We don't know that you didn't...." she said, shaking her head.

"We don't?" Even though he'd known all along there was a slight chance that the child was the product of that long ago night on the Earth the Ancients made, his not-so-better angels had convinced him it had to have been on Talyn, and that she'd known it -- and treasured that knowledge.

Swear to God, Aeryn understood everything he'd been agonizing over. "We don't," she said firmly, the expression on her face deadly serious, daring him to challenge his place in her heart and in the baby's life.

His smile broadened in relief. "We don't know," he repeated with a grin, and leaned in a planted a quick kiss on her lips.

As he straightened up and grinned at her, he could see that she was trying to come to terms with what his question might have meant. She looked him over, assorted expressions of concern running across her face. He waited her out, rather than interrupting her thoughts. "In your heart," she said finally, placing her hand on his chest as he had hers, "do you accept this baby, no matter when it was conceived? Do we have a problem?"

John could feel Aeryn's eyes on him as he searched his heart, determined to be sure he understood his own feelings regarding this child that had such an unconventional start. He poked around for even the smallest twinge that suggested he didn't accept the baby as his own. Nope. Nothing. This crisis of faith had been about his own jealous insecurities in a relationship that was barely out of the honeymoon phase, not about how he felt about the child. He let out a deep breath and smiled.

"No, Babe, no," he said gently. "We don't have a problem." He settled both hands on Aeryn's stomach. Feeling for all the world like he was swearing on a stack of Bibles, he said, "Even if it had three heads and four arms and was the color of Rygel, your child would be my child." He looked into her eyes and opened himself up completely so she could see into his soul....

Aeryn looked him over pretty thoroughly, relaxing as she read the truth of what he'd said. She reached out and cupped his cheek and said with a hint of confusion, "Then that's all that matters, isn't it? I thought we had that settled monens ago."

"I did, too," he admitted, "but, what was I supposed to think?" He was well aware that to a less charitable ear he no doubt sounded a bit petulant, but, feeling he needed to follow through now that he'd started this, he kept on. "Lately you keep saying, my baby, my baby, my baby, and I thought, well, I thought maybe you knew that," and he couldn't help a slight wince before finishing, "well, that the other guy was there at the conception, and that's why...."

A pink flush spread up Aeryn's cheeks, setting off her dark hair prettily. "Oh. No. It's nothing like that. It's just...." She struggled for words, and John was almost sorry he asked, but he really wanted to know why she kept claiming the baby for her own, so he smiled encouragingly at her. She smiled back a little wistfully, and started up again. "There's this child growing here," she said, settling her hands on her stomach. "I'm going to give her life. And I feel her kicking, and stretching, and sometimes, if I talk, she quiets down like she knows me already, and it's the most amazing feeling...." She paused again, and took a breath, and finally let it out. "And I keep thinking that my mother must have felt these things when she was carrying me. And I just keep thinking about how she gave me...abandoned me to the Peacekeepers...." She leaned her head to one side and gazed in his eyes, a world of hurt visible in hers. "I could never do that to my child!"

Oh, crap. My child. It had nothing to do with who the daddy was.... Her child....not her mother's child.... What kind of idiot was he not to have realized how impending motherhood must be making her feel, with her background? An idiot who wasn't the one who was there to pick up the pieces when she had to face her mother, he thought churlishly, but he batted the thought away and reached for her, pulling her as close as she could get with the bulge of the baby between them. She held him tightly, but he didn't think she was crying.

"Aeryn. Listen to me," he said, face buried in her hair so his lips were near her ear. "It doesn't mean she didn't care. You know she loved you when you were born. But your mother did the only thing she knew to do. The Peacekeepers -- That was the only world she knew...just like it would have been for you a few cycles ago."

She accepted that, he could feel by the way her head moved up and down against his chest. Then she pulled away just a little and looked him in the face. There were a few tears welling in her eyes, but she looked determined not to let them fall. "Then why did she have me at all?" she said plaintively. "John, she told me that she and my father chose to yield a life. Why would she do that just to give me away?"

He smoothed her hair and said softly, "Because she was growing. Learning to be more. She just wasn't as lucky as you were. She never got away from the Peacekeepers."

Aeryn took this statement in for a moment, and then, to his surprise, she laughed. "Mmmm. Only you, John Crichton, would say that being declared irreversibly contaminated and having most of the civilized races of the galaxy trying to kill you is a learning experience."

He snickered back at her, grateful that she was smiling. "I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but, yeah, that about covers it. End result's the same, anyway. You've grown."

She looked down at the bulge of her belly between them and smirked, "You would seem to be right about that."

It was on the tip of his tongue to make a joke about it being just "baby fat," but he wasn't quite sure how she'd take that, so he settled for saying, "I love you," and leaned down and captured her mouth with his. Aeryn wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him so hard that he could swear he could feel his toes curl.

Maybe it was her Sebacean hormones, and maybe it was just their need to share the depths of their connection physically after some serious conversation, but it seemed pretty likely that this wasn't going to end with them going back to work on the baby's room....

Fingers braided through her hair to keep her close, John pulled away just far enough to get out one last thing before he completely lost himself in the wonder that was his wife. "You're going to be a great mom, Aeryn. I know you're scared, but you're going to be great. I couldn't ask for a better mother for my kids."

"I've never even imagined any other father for my children," she whispered.

That felt good, and it felt right, and he knew that he'd done the right thing in asking -- and answering -- the hard questions. He leaned into her mouth again, and just before he reached it, she murmured, "I love you."

He kissed her, and she shivered and tightened her hold on him, and he knew his instincts had been right. "Love you too," he assured her, and scooped her up in his arms with a soft grunt.

As he covered the distance between the baby's room and theirs, he grinned to himself. This marriage thing was hard work, as his mother always told him -- but it definitely had its rewards!