Well, lookie here, I've actually managed to finish a fic! It's been quite a while, hasn't it? This is just a bit of fluff in the Family Ties universe. If you've never read any of my Family Ties stories, check 'em out
through this list on Terra Firma.
Rating: PG (a little implied sex....)
Setting: About 18 cycles after PKW, about 4 years after my story Getting Away from it All (Ain't What it's Cracked Up to Be)
Spoilers: through PKW (sorta vaguely)
Disclaimer: Not my universe, not my characters (except for Pip!), no money being made. Just playing with them to keep the universe alive (and because I love 'em)
Many thanks to Loco and Shipsister for the beta duties, and to Shipscat for taking a looksee!
And before anyone tries to whap me upside the head for the quiddich reference (and this came up with both my betas
), John's been back to earth a number of times in this future universe -- and even in canon, John was on earth in December 2003, by which time there were 5 books and 2 movies out, and there was a 13-year-old nephew who probably would have loved to sit Uncle John down with a DVD!
I hope you enjoy this.
Still Not in Kansas....
John Crichton put his feet up, leaned back in his chair, and took a gulp of fellip nectar from the bottle in his hand. As he swallowed, he set the bottle down on the table next to him and turned his attention back to the game he was watching. The home video transmission system was near enough to television that he had never bothered to remember the actual name. Since the Sun-Crichton family had settled on this planet, John had developed an appreciation for the favorite local spectator sport. Sonda was something between baseball and quiddich, if he had to try and describe it in earth terms, complete with flying (though the players flew on antigrav floats, not on brooms). The city they lived in had a spectacularly good team, which usually made watching their matches a pleasant afternoon pastime, either with the kids, or, as today, by himself. Aeryn had 13-cycle-old Hope out for her beloved piloting lessons, and D'Argo and Pip had headed for the local commerce center together. With a little luck, D, nearly grown at 17, could keep his 10-cycle-old brother in line. Only Nel, age 6, and the baby were at home with John, and the baby was napping.
Unfortunately, the game today was not going so well for the home team. "Come on, come on, come on!" he urged the player who was flying front and center on the holographic display, only to groan as the goal went to the other team. "Frelling Alligators," he murmured, mangling the team's name, and reached for his drink, intending to take another pull.
A wail from the next room signaled the end of his "me" time, such as it was. Their youngest child had woken from her nap. The half-cycle-old would need changing at least and probably a small snack, not to mention some good old-fashioned attention from her dad. Ah, well, the way the game had been going, he wouldn't be missing much.
Leslie was sitting in the middle of her bed, looking a bit befuddled yet with sleep. "Come on, Leelee girl," he cooed, picking her up and giving her a quick cuddle when he saw she wasn't soaking wet. He brushed her wavy brown hair back from her forehead and planted a kiss. She smiled and squeaked, "Da!" and his heart melted just like it always did.
This wasn't the life he'd expected, growing up back on earth, but it was a hell of a lot closer to it than he'd feared, back when he'd finally realized he could never go home again – not to live, anyway. Maybe in some unrealized reality there was a John Crichton who was still running from place to place, being chased and shot at by Scarrans and Peacekeepers and Sheyangs and whatever the next race was that he managed to piss off. But nothing even close to that had happened here since the Nebari had come after Aeryn and Pip four cycles ago. John could feel his jaw clench as his mind lurched back to that little adventure. Don't go there, John, he told himself sternly. No, it was nice to just have the usual domestic dramas to deal with. With five kids, those came aplenty.
He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and settled the baby back in her bed to clean her off. She kicked cheerfully as he changed her diaper. "Hold still, missy," he admonished, and remarkably, she did. Whistling absently, he went back to his musing about the family. Today, it was D'Argo who was pissed off at them. D's best friend Joren was off world flying in an asteroid race that was just this side of legal, and pretty-much unregulated. The teen had been invited to go along as co-pilot, and had wanted to desperately, but neither John nor Aeryn thought his piloting skills or his common sense were up to it, and they'd said no. There was a difference between an adventure and foolhardiness, though youth rarely saw it. There'd been a lot of begging and bargaining, plus some yelling on all sides, but there was never any doubt what the outcome would be. When Joren left yesterday, D'Argo had been left behind to brood.
Yup, they were the most unreasonable parents on the planet, no, make that in the entire galaxy. Actually, John was pretty sure both he and Aeryn would have thought exactly the same thing as D'Argo back when they were teens, but that didn't mean he was going to change his mind. In any event, D'Argo had still been grumpy as hell a few arns ago when he took off to hang out at the commerce center, Pippin in tow.
John sighed, then bent down and blew bubbles on Leelee's tummy. The baby reached for him and squealed happily. Who could resist a baby's smile? John grinned in return, and started to put her clothes back on. You lose some, you win some, when it came to kids. And on the plus side as far as his firstborn went, not many teens would willingly take their little brother with them when they went to hang out at the mall, though that might have been more because Pip was just plain fun to be with no matter how old you were, when he wasn't making you crazy pushing the limits. Hopefully they were having a good time.
With one clean and now-dressed baby in his arms, he headed for the kitchen. "Hey, sweetie," he called to Nellie as he passed her in the living area. She waved at him with a smile that made her look even more like her mother than her black hair, T-shirt and pants already did, and then went back to her drawing. He'd have to make a point of checking it out later. Meantime, the baby waved her arms enthusiastically, knowing there was going to be food. He settled her down in her seat, and pulled out her favorite snack. He scattered some crumbly pieces of dried prousa fruit in front of her. With a squeal of delight, she reached for the nearest chunk and started to gnaw.
John sat down next to her and started up a running patter about the fruit, how yummy it was, how clever she was to pick it up, and all the silly things adults said to infants. As he was chattering and Leelee was making goofy faces at him, he heard the main door open in the next room. Pip's excited voice announced the return of the boys, rather than the girls – who were probably stretching out Hope's lesson as long as they could, since they both loved flying about as much as breathing.
Pip was talking a mile a minute, with D chiming in occasionally, his voice distinctly deeper with maturity. Pleased that the boys seemed to be happy now, considering the foul mood D'Argo had been in when he left, John let their voices wash over him, even when Nel exclaimed in admiration, "Wow!" It wasn’t until she asked sharply, "Did it hurt?" that his curiosity – and first level of parental concern – kicked in. What had their wild child done this time? He grabbed the baby, letting her keep the fruit lump she had in her fist, and headed for the living area, taking care not to look like he was running.
There in front of him stood D'Argo, Pip, and Nellie. The first thing that caught his eye was that Pip had pulled up his shirt sleeve to expose a dark patch on his upper arm, which he was showing off proudly. Nel was leaning close, examining it with admiration. John assumed it was blood...until he realized with a start that there was an intricate pattern to the deep blue coloring, and that D'Argo had the same design on
his upper arm. John couldn't make it resolve into anything in particular, but it had a stark, "tribal" look.
What the frell? Apparently he'd said that out loud, because all three of his offspring turned to look at him.
"Tell me those are fake," he said hopefully, bouncing the baby in his arms. Pip grinned and D'Argo raised his chin defiantly, which was not the response he'd wanted. John set the little one down on the floor and turned his attention back to the boys.
"It was my idea," Pip said proudly, turning so his father could get a better look at his arm.
It was unmistakably ink...and John heard his father's voice come out of his mouth. "Tattoos? You went and got tattoos?" he bellowed, as every tattooed biker cliché of his youth sprang to mind. "What were you thinking?" He fixed Pip with the evil eye, and then swung towards the older boy. "D'Argo, you were in charge. How could you let him get a tattoo? Not to mention
one of your own!" His voice pretty much reached a roar on the last four words, though he really hadn't intended that level of pissed off.
D'Argo set his jaw and pulled himself up to his full height, which was nearly that of his father. "Why not?" he demanded. "Everyone has them at school. Joren has one."
Oh, lord, this was payback for the missed trip. John closed his eyes and begged for strength. "I don't care if everyone else has one. In this family, we do
not have tattoos! Especially when we are 10," he added, glaring at Pippin.
"Mom has one!" Pip protested.
"Don't lie to me, boy!"
Nelja entered the fray on her brothers' side. "But she does, Daddy," she said, eyes wide and earnest, and D and Pip backed her up, nodding their heads vigorously.
John shook his head back and forth for emphasis. "I know every dench of your mother's body, kids, and trust me, she does
not have a tattoo!"
The three kids were looking at him in confusion now. "Dad, she does," said D'Argo.
"All right," John said, figuring to trip them up: "Where?"
Without hesitation, all three kids slapped a spot on the inside of their arms, just above their right wrists.
Okay, now that gave him pause. He couldn't believe they'd had time to collude on something like that. But before he could start with the third degree, the front door slid open again, signaling the arrival of Aeryn and Hope. All right! The cavalry!
Aeryn stopped dead, sensing the atmosphere in the room. Hope, smart girl that she was, stopped right behind her mother and kept her mouth shut. The boys, too, kept quiet. Rightly assuming that Nel was a bystander, Aeryn looked from the boys to John. She caught his eye and asked, "Is there a problem?"
"Yes, there is a problem," he declared, glad to have backup. "Look at what these kids did! Go on, show your mom," he prompted D and Pip.
D'Argo scowled, but complied, and Pip happily turned and showed off his prized tattoo. Behind her mother, Hope's eyes sparkled with interest.
Aeryn's face darkened as she examined the intricate circles, looking from one to the other, comparing. "What have you done?" she demanded.
Ah, the joys of team parenting! Just as a triumphant grin escaped past John's best intentions, she pointed at Pip's tattoo. "Do you know what that symbol means? Either of you?"
Pip and D'Argo looked at each other, rebellion and payback gone from their faces and body language. D'Argo apparently decided to take responsibility for the situation. He cleared his throat and said cautiously, "Ta Tuva said it was the emblem of the Akbar regiment on Tanka 7. A combat emblem."
Aeryn looked at Pip, who agreed with a silent nod.
Aeryn shook her head. "Well it isn't. It's the sigil worn by tralks on Hyneria. Cheap tralks!" The boys continued to stare at her in silence while she let that sink in. After a few microts, she pointed to the door. "Go back right now and get those removed, and if you get something else, be sure you know what it means!"
It was John's turn to gape. Something
else? What happened to no tattoos? Before he had time to recover from the shock, the boys were halfway out the door.
"D'Argo!" Aeryn called sternly, and both boys paused. "You tell the artist – What was his name? Tuva? – you tell him that if I don't like what I see when you get home, he'll have to answer to me!"
The boys snickered, and took off pronto.
Hope, seizing the moment, asked, "Can I get a tattoo, too?"
"No," said John, even as Aeryn shrugged and said, "Sure."
Human and Sebacean exchanged a long look, and then John sighed. "Later!" he told Hope. "When I can go with you!" He was damn well going to maintain a certain level of control here! After a pause he looked at Nelja, and said, "Don't even ask!" He glanced up at Aeryn just in case. She nodded firmly. "You're too young!"
Ah, at last, parenting solidarity….
Leslie, who had apparently been enjoying the drama, chirped, "Ma!" The baby waved sticky hands at her mother.
Aeryn gave John one last amused look before she went to pick up the baby.
John sighed, and sat down with Nelja to look at her latest drawings.
* * * * * * * *
The evening had gone relatively smoothly after the excitement of the afternoon. The boys had returned with new tattoos that passed maternal inspection, and John assumed that was the end of the issue. He had to admit, there wasn't any good reason for him to have reacted so badly. When he thought about it, D'Argo was right. Many of D's classmates – and Hope's, too, for that matter – did have tattoos, some of them even on their faces. It just didn't have the negative connotations here that John had grown up with. Hell, his teenage niece back home on earth had some kind of butterfly tattooed on her ankle. But, these were his kids, not somebody else's, and he couldn't help the knee-jerk reaction even after all this time in the UTs.
Way to go, John. He was going to have to work on that fuddy-duddy thing....
As he and Aeryn were getting ready for bed, though, he found that his wife was still annoyed about the original designs. "
Cheap tralks!" she muttered, pulling off her pants, leaving them both standing in T-shirts and underwear. "I think I should talk to that artist—"
"Aeryn, baby, let it go."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"You told the boys to get it fixed, and they did. You'll only embarrass them if you go gunning for the artist now."
Aeryn considered this, and sighed. "It was upsetting seeing that on them, though."
"I got that." He contemplated pointing out that that was exactly how he'd felt about the tattoos, period, never mind the meaning, but sticking to his new resolution, he decided to distract her instead. "Before you got home, they were trying to divert me from what they'd done, saying you have a tattoo. Pretty crazy, huh?"
Her face crinkled in puzzlement."I do."
"What?"
"I have a tattoo. Right here," she said, holding her arm out and offering her right wrist for inspection. It was the same place kids had indicated.
John gave her a look that said,
You're joking, right?"You can't see that?" Her eyes narrowed, and her tone just barely avoided suggesting his vision was deficient.
He leaned forward and squinted at her wrist carefully for any hint of ink or color, then shook his head, still wondering if this was some kind of elaborate practical joke.
She grabbed his hand and ran a finger over her skin in what seemed to be a series of small symbols. When he looked up and shook his head, she shrugged. "I've had it all my life. It tells what carrier I was born in, and which crèche."
Intrigued, and still a bit skeptical, he said, "Show me."
Aeryn grabbed a datapad off the night table and drew a roundish bird-like symbol with a Sebacean number beside it. The overall effect reminded him disturbingly of concentration camp IDs that he'd seen once or twice growing up.
Repressing a shudder that was utterly irrelevant to the topic at hand, he realized she was serious. His wife had a tattoo. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
"I thought you knew! I had no idea you couldn't see it."
"The fact that I never mentioned it didn't clue you in?"
Aeryn shrugged again despite the sharpness of his tone. "Why would you? It only means I was born a Peacekeeper, which you've known from the moment we met."
Frell and damn! John shook his head at the strength of his reaction to this little revelation. Once again he'd had his nose rubbed in the fact that he was living in another universe, both because she had the tattoo in the first place, and because his unaltered human vision didn't allow him to see it, while his half-Sebacean (and full Nebari) children could. More than that, though, he and Aeryn had been together for over twenty cycles, married for nearly eighteen, and...how could he not know something so basic about her? That was very unsettling. "Damn, baby," he said softly. "I hate surprises."
She looked him up and down, assessing his mood, and then purred, "Isn't that a good thing? Not being predictable?"
The tone of her voice reached right into him, and just like that he found himself standing at attention. It was all he could do to keep from groaning out loud. Hmmm.... Maybe a surprise or two now and then wasn't such a bad idea at that. He cleared his throat. "Got any more of 'em I don't know about?"
"Tattoos?"
"Uh-huh."
"Did the kids mention any others?"
"No...but that just means you might have them in places they haven't seen."
She gave him a come-hither look that was all the encouragement he needed. He tugged her T-shirt over her head, then pulled her onto the bed, landing solidly beside her. Slowly and deliberately, he leaned in and kissed the top of her right breast. "How about here? Any tattoos?"
She shook her head with wide-eyed mock innocence.
He moved on to the left. "Here?"
Aeryn smiled and shook her head again.
Moving just a little lower, he asked, "How about here?"
Aeryn gasped, then sucked in her lower lip and grinned.
John smiled happily. He had a lot of territory to cover, and he hadn't even moved further south yet. It was going to be a long and very pleasant night....
It didn't really matter if he wasn't in Kansas anymore. He was home.
Author
