Remix story
Apr. 3rd, 2006 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowI remain surprised that anyone didn't know this was me:) I'm such a sentence recycler, even when I don't think I'm doing it. And after re-reading my last Remix, I realize that I've recycled certain themes as well, which is not surprising so much as unexpected (not me recycling themes, but how much of a cycle these two fics can make. They're about the same thing - building and rebuilding community).
Title: Tit for Tat (The Family Feud Remix)
Remix Author: Thea
Original Story: Exchange of Goods and Services by zvi
Summary: What would you trade for a place to call home?
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Farscape
Notes: My everlasting thanks to all of the Hussies, but particularly![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rubberneck who sat me down, said, "This is what you can do." and showed me how to do it. Unsurprisingly, there are several lines of dialogue that belong to her and her alone.
Spoilers: Only for Season One
Zhaan is there to greet them when they return. Aeryn, D'Argo and Rygel have already exited the pod by the time the docking web pulls Crichton's module into the bay. Chiana sits on the edge of the table, legs swinging, waiting for something to happen. Moya had been far too quiet while the others were gone. It wasn't nearly as… entertaining to snurch Rygel's things when he wasn't there to protest, to wheedle back the goods that he himself had liberated.
Crichton stays in the module after it lands, and finally the others leave him to his own thoughts, his own time. She stays, waiting to see what he's seen, why he came back.
He pops the opening to his module, wearily hauls himself out. He's wearing the ridiculous orange suit, and when he drops to the ground he unzips it, peels it off like it's too hot, like it's hurting him and throws it back into the module.
She slips off the table, gets closer, drawn in by his fatigue, by the strange actions and the fact that he's here.
He slams the door to the cockpit so hard the small module shakes.
"Did it do something to piss you off?" she asks.
He startles, slaps his hand to his chest, "Jesus Christ, Chiana. You scared the crap out of me."
She shrugs, a half apology. "Why'd you come back, Crichton?"
His eyes are very blue, his skin ashy. He gives her a hard look, then his mouth softens. "You ever get homesick, Chi?"
The laugh catches in her throat, tastes smoky and bitter. "Sick of home," she answers, flippant.
He nods. "Wasn't really my home, though. Just some place that looked like it."
"That's completely tinked, Crichton."
"Yeah," he says, with a harsh laugh. "It really is."
He slings an arm around her shoulders. "So, didja miss me?"
She pokes him in the side with her elbow. "You weren't gone long enough to miss. But the slug and I did divvy up your things, before he...left."
"Just mine…?"
She slips out from under his arm. "I'll… uh… see you in the galley. I've gotta… go do something…"
His laughter follows her down the hallway and this time it's sweet.
*
Aeryn doesn't look at him when he enters the galley, but D'Argo shoves a half-empty bowl of greens towards him, nods at the basket of bread.
John raises an eyebrow, slides onto the bench next to Aeryn.
She swallows, reaches for the bread. John takes a roll, breaks it into bits, wishes he would have snagged some fake chocolate just for the hell of it. He could still close his eyes and pretend it was the real thing.
"Who cooked?" he asks, chewing, pretending the bread tasted like… bread. See, he knew he could do it.
"The Nebari," Aeryn answers, picks at the greens with her fingers. He tries not to like that she eats like a kid, that she'll put things in her mouth with these graceful deliberate motions that don't negate the fact that she's eating with her fingers. He's just learned a whole new repertoire of things those talented fingers can do: piloting, shooting, him - easy and efficient and effortless. Okay, not effortless and not without an answer on his part.
Zhaan interrupts his musing and it's a good thing. He's hardening under the table and he's still too raw to be having sex thoughts at dinner, too edgy to sit next to Aeryn and think about chocolate and wish for something from home. Zhaan touches his hand, the blue so stark against his hand that it's a shock.
He looks up at her, while she agrees with Aeryn. "I found some of my oils in her quarters," she says carefully. "I believe this is her… reciprocity for the theft."
"Don't you mean restitution, bluie?"
Zhaan strokes his fingers, withdraws her hand. "She's testing her boundaries, finding what can be given and what can be taken. I think reciprocity is appropriate."
"If I catch her in my quarters, there won't be any argument over what to call it," Aeryn replies tartly.
"She has many skills," Zhaan replies, wry and amused. "I believe that she's attempting to… prove her worth to us."
Aeryn snorts. "Those are not the sort of skills we need more of. If we want someone to steal and flee, we've already got Rygel."
"At least she can cook," D'Argo says around a mouthful of greens.
Aeryn purses her mouth. "I'd rather she could be trusted to leave things in their place or be good in a firefight."
John nudges her with his elbow and she kicks him in the ankle. He tries not to grin, to jostle her for the sheer pleasure of contact. "That's just 'cause you'll eat anything. The rest of us get tired of food cubes."
She glares at him and he smiles back, a little of the tension, the sorrow loosening in his chest.
Rising, taking the pitcher of water from the counter, Zhaan pours the liquid into the empty cups. "Perhaps she has skills that she has yet to display."
***
Chiana fights back, struggling at the hold on her neck, thrashing, trying to angle so she can hit or hurt or bite, gloved fingers clawing at the arm against her throat. Her struggle is futile. The grip tightens on her neck and the light of the passageway dims as her air lessens. She lets herself fall limp, goes still and quiet. Her captor's weight shifts forward as she drops.
"Thought you could get out of anything," Aeryn's voice is low, husky in her ear. "Slip any grasp."
The pressure on Chiana's throat lessens.
"U…usually," she stutters, struggling now for dignity. She doesn't think Aeryn really intends to kill her. Probably. "I'm not being grabbed from behind for those reasons."
Aeryn tightens her hold again, the hard bone in her forearm thrusting Chiana's chin up. She gasps, whimpers, kicks back with her heel. It connects but Aeryn doesn't let go. Chiana flails her elbows, knows she's hit something when Aeryn grunts, but the woman still holds tight. Blood pounds in Chiana's brain, stars and blackness throbbing behind her eyes.
"Fall," Aeryn hisses. "Stop struggling and fall."
She follows the words, follows her instincts, drops her weight again, bends her knees and falls forward. The hold loosens just enough and Chiana lets her momentum take her forward, lashes back again with her heel and slips free.
She doesn't look back at Aeryn, pride stinging like a head wound. Keeps going forward, rounds the corner and tucks herself in between Moya's ribs, screams her frustration into the golden walls.
***
"She's useless."
John tightens the bolt on the inside of the module.
"She's not useless."
Aeryn tosses a component back and forth, catches D'Argo's eye. He gazes back impassively.
"She's trouble, regardless. We should drop her at the next planet."
"Told her she could stay as long as she wanted. She's just gotta live by our rules."
"What rules?" D'Argo snorts. "On our best days we live in controlled chaos."
"I do not live in chaos," Aeryn answers primly.
D'Argo faux sneezes into his hand, "Bullshit."
"Do you even know what that means?" she curls her lips at him in disgust, shoots a glare at John who's now resting his forearms on the hood of his module, mouth twitching on the verge of amusement.
"Yes," D'Argon answers back gravely.
"I still think she's useless," Aeryn mutters.
John ducks back into the modules hood. "So make her less useless. Worked with me."
D'Argo repeats his fake sneeze and ducks as a spanner sails towards his head.
***
The wall slams against her back.
"If you touch my prowler again, I will damage you permanently."
Aeryn isn't even breaking a sweat and Chiana kicks her feet, clings to the other woman's forearm. It's a frelled reversal of the earlier ambush, but this time carries the weight of Aeryn's intent.
She uses her strength, her balance, forces Chiana against the wall, leans in so that her breath is hot against her cheek.
"Stop struggling," Aeryn orders, low and fierce. Chiana ignores her suggestion, continues to try and get free.
Aeryn thrusts her back and Chiana's head smacks into the wall. She whimpers, claws, kicks.
"If you stop struggling, you can get out of this." Aeryn's throaty voice dances around bitter amusement, but panic has set in and Chiana doesn't have a choice. She grabs and grasps, flutters and flails, and black washes over her.
She comes to slumped on the ground. Her throat hurts, eyes sore, hip bruised. Aeryn squats down beside her, takes her chin in her hand.
"When I tell you to do something, you should do it."
Chiana swats at her, knocking her hand away and holds her throat, fighting back tears. Aeryn leans into her space.
"Next time, do not struggle. Grab my thumb, yank it back and kick forward, hard."
The woman stands, and Chiana looks up at her. Aeryn's face is blank.
"Leave me the frell alone," she whispers, voice hoarse, raw.
"Not yet," Aeryn mutters, turns to go, and looks over her shoulder. "And that was a warning. You won't get another. Do not touch my ship."
***
"So you're really not going to help me?"
She's wheedling, standing too close, looking up at him, body angled so that if he drops his eyes, he'll be able to see down the front of her shirt.
D'Argo sighs, and gently moves her out of his way, big hands spanning the width of her hips. "No, I will not help you set a trap for Aeryn."
"But she's gone totally fahrbot. She's tried to kill me twice in the last weeken and then sent the DRDs after me this morning with some sort of hot glue."
"Chiana, if Aeryn had really wanted to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Besides, there are… things coming out of the walls on tier 7 and whatever they are, they are disgusting. I need to help Crichton dispose of them." He pauses, considers. "I doubt she was responsible for the glue."
She pokes him in the arm. Jab, jab. "So how am I supposed to defend myself against a psychotic Peacekeeper, then?"
D'Argo raises his eyebrow, puts his hand on her shoulder, strokes his thumb quickly over her collarbone and then widens his eyes, surprised at his action.
"Perhaps that's the point."
***
Crichton limps into the galley, dripping water and amnexus fluid. His expression is sour, fetid as the smell coming off him in waves. He drops the boot on the table in front of Aeryn, and slaps his hands down on either side of the filthy footwear. Leaning forward, he gets within denches of her face.
"I only got one pair of boots left that don't give me blisters, and now the mate of this," his eyes drop down to the shoe, flit back up to meet Aeryn's impassive gaze, "is at the bottom of the fluid chamber, and I'm damned lucky that my foot's not still in it."
Aeryn raises an eyebrow, cocks her head. "How is you losing your boot a concern of mine?"
Chiana folds into the counter, trying to make herself smaller, unobtrusive as she watches this play out. Crichton is feeling hiszoats, whatever that means. He points his finger, pokes Aeryn in the chest and grits out, "I got caught in one of your little booby traps."
Aeryn's mouth twitches, and Chiana stifles her own giggle. No matter how many times he explains the concept, booby trap still sounds delightfully dirty.
"That trap should only have taken effect in a few denches of water. Perhaps it's another symptom of the pregnancy…" her voice trails off as she considers that.
The eyebrow creeps even higher.
"So not the point. You set the trap for her." He glances up, moves that pointing finger to Chiana. "I got caught in it. And I want my boot back."
Aeryn shoves the boot aside with her wrist, takes a long drag from her cup, and stands. "Fair enough."
Crichton watches her leave, his anger imploded from having won the argument.
"Don't be so blazted, it's me she wants to kill."
"She doesn't want to kill you, Pip. It's just her way of making you part of the crew."
"Or killing me."
"She's just got a funny way of showing things, that's all."
"She do this to you?"
"Kicked my ass six ways from Sunday, 'til I learned to fight back."
"Ever try fighting dirty?"
Crichton goes quiet, curling one of his big toes against the deck until it cracks. "It only worked the once, but it was a weird situation. There was beer."
"But you won?"
He sighs, yanking his boot off the table. "Scored on a technicality, maybe."
Chiana watches him leave, and wonders if there's more to Aeryn's sudden interest than just kicking the dren out of her.
***
Aeryn is cross-legged on the bed, polishing her boots when he knocks on the wall, asks permission to enter. She glances up, tilts her chin and he comes in, flips the chair around, sits facing her, arms resting on the back of the chair.
"How're your boots?" She shines the toe, rubs off the latest scuff. It's a thankless task. Her own boots are more worn than his, the sole tilted from her gait, the leather thin around the toes. But she's stubborn, refuses to shop for new things, instead scavenging what's left in Moya's empty cells. She arrived with those boots, and swears that nothing else left behind fits right. He knows the feeling, he still wishes he hadn't ruined his old khakis.
He lifts up his heels, squelches down the arch and grimaces. "Still soggy."
John tilts his head, looks at her. Her hair is pulled back in a tail, wisps escaping around her face and he likes the intense concentration that schools her features. He likes the look of her engaged in a task.
"You know, you might wanna tell Chiana what you're doing."
Her eyebrow raises, but she doesn't look up. "And what exactly am I doing?"
"She's not me, Aeryn. She's got some survival instinct, knows how the universe works. She's gonna fight back eventually and I'm guessing that's not going to end well."
"She's a liability." Aeryn puts down the rag, looks up at him. There's a smudge of polish high on her cheekbone, a smear on the back of her wrist and he'd like to go over, brush it off her skin, feel her flesh against his palm. He stays put. "She's only concerned with her own survival."
"So's Rygel, but I don't see you jumping him in corridors. Hmm?"
Aeryn lifts her shoulders, an impatient shrug. "Rygel has as much to lose as we do by betraying any of us if he's captured. She does not. We'd be an easy trade if she found herself in a compromised situation."
He licks his bottom lip, picks up the thread of logic. "But she's not too fond of authority, so you figure she's more likely to run then stay 'n tattle."
Aeryn nods. "Possibly." She picks up the rag again, shines the side of her boot. "Peacekeepers don't play games, John. They don't get distracted by pretty little tralks. They will shoot first, and ask questions when their captive is writhing in pain. She needs to know how to escape so that we aren't captured as well."
John sighs, stands up and walks over to her. "I think you're enjoying this." He takes a risk, brushes his thumb over her cheek, removing the smudge. She glares, shoulders him in the chest. He holds up his hands in surrender. She smirks, mouth a dangerous line, turns it into a half smile. He swallows hard.
"Payback's a bitch," He backs up until he's standing in the door, until the temptation ebbs. "I'm just sayin'…"
***
"Chiana!!!"
Everyone's com screeches out her name, the rage pouring through.
John puts down his spoon, raises his eyebrow. "Do we need to circle the wagons?"
She continues to eat her breakfast, shrugs one shoulder. "I'm not afraid of her."
Crichton barks out a laugh, chokes on his breakfast then spits it across the table as D'Argo whacks him hard on the back. The glob of pasty looking cereal lands on Rygel's cheek. He wipes it off with disgust, flinging it onto the table then licks his fingers and sniffs with superiority, "Then you're even more foolish than you look."
"Chiana, get down here now or I will come up there and drag you down to the hangar by your tongue!!!"
This time it's only her com. Chiana tilts up her chin. "Mela syrup in the controls," she says by way of explanation, smirking. "It won't do any… permanent… damage."
John and D'Argo exchange a glance. "Well," Crichton sighs, "That's one way of fighting dirty."
He takes another bite of his cereal.
"If this doesn't work," she says, "then I'll try it your way."
Crichton chokes again, D'Argo hits him, and Rygel puts up his hand as a shield.
"Crichton, your table manners are revolting. And I prefer my bugs alive and squirming, not predigested thank you very much."
Crichton looks at his bowl, looks back up at Rygel. "Bugs? Predigested?"
Chiana laughs. "What the frell did you think you were eating?"
John stands up, slaps his hand over his and bolts for the waste funnel.
"Barbarian," Rygel mutters, and slurps the cereal off his fingers.
***
"I don't care if it tastes like hammered crap, I'm not eating any more bugs."
Aeryn rolls her eyes. "You say that now, but in a weeken, you're going to be whining about how foul it tastes. And besides you're the only one who objects to the ekelis paste. Everyone else but Rygel eats it without complaint."
"It's bugs!"
"Well it was bugs before and you ate it every morning for a monen."
"Yeah, but I didn't know it was bugs."
"It's better than the wheta berries." D'Argo grouses, adding in his two cents.
"Yeah, well they looked like raspberries and smelled like raspberries and it's not my fault that they tasted like alien sweat socks and gave everyone gas."
D'Argo narrows his eyes. "You did not have to spend two arns trapped in a ventilation shaft with Rygel while he was… ventilating."
"Fine, you're right, but I'm still not eating bugs."
"We should just get more food cubes, and…"
"No." John and D'Argo chorus together.
"I'd rather eat the bugs," John adds and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Fine," Aeryn sighs. "You can use your share to buy your oat meal, and we'll lay in a stock of ekelis paste which you will be begging for after a few days of that and…"
"Aeryn, John…"
Zhaan's voice is low and tight across the comm. "What is it, Blue?"
"I was looking at the zycan root, just for a microt, checking the price and when I turned back, Chiana had disappeared."
"Frell!"
John touches Aeryn's shoulder, catches D'Argo's eye.
"Any idea where she might be headed?"
"No, but she was eyeing a small jewelry stand near the market entrance right after we separated. There were several other stands long the way, perhaps the ale house…"
"We're close to there," D'Argo answers, "We'll go check it out."
"D'Argo," Zhaan's voice goes even lower, "I think there were beacons in the town square. Please be careful."
*
"I was just seeing how it would look… and I just…forgot to take it off…"
The merchant was decidedly non bi-pedal. Four gawky limbs on the floor and two short stubby arms tapped against the glass covering his high counter as he watches the proceedings.
The two burly guards holding Chiana by her arms have a more traditional set of limbs. Impervious to the girl's squirming, they dangle her half a metra off the floor.
"I hesitate to call the militia, little thief," the merchant says, coming out from behind the counter. "That would involve paperwork and bureaucracy and you could get off on a technicality."
"That's… uh… that's great. You don't need to call them into this. It was just a little misunderstanding."
"No," the merchant scuttles forward until he can look Chiana in the eye. "You stole from me. And I don't like it when people steal from me."
Chiana catches sight of D'Argo in the doorframe and her eyes go wide. He has his hand on the hilt of his qualta blad, but he makes no move to draw it from his sheath. Instead, he watches and waits.
"I uh… I'm sure I can make it up to you," she says, throaty and smooth, trying to flirt and flail at the same time. "I've got lots of… skills that you might like to,,, take advantage of."
The merchant reaches forward, drawing a stubby finger over the exposed skin of her belly. "I'm sure you do, girl. However, you're not exactly to my… taste. My guards however… will still appreciate you at the end of the weeken, after you've been beaten and sent to my labor camp to mine the gems we use in that pretty little necklace you stole."
Chiana tenses her arms, prepares for another chance at freedom and drops her eyes, looks coyly under her lashes at the merchant. "How 'bout you let me give them a little taste now," she says, breathy and desperate, "so they know what they have to look forward to."
"I don't think so." The merchant waves his limb dismissively, backs up.
"Bar'tex," he orders. The guard on the right drops her arm, and the other pulls her tightly to him in a headlock. "Why don't we give her… a little taste?"
Bar'tex brings back one meaty fist and aims for her cheek. She turns her head, drops her weight and his fist glances off the back of her skull and slams into the chin of the guard holding her. Her ears are ringing from the blow but she concentrates, strikes back with her fist, connects with his groin and they both go tumbling down.
The first shot from the qualta blade shatters the glass, the second shatters the skull of guard number two and from that point on it's all flying crockery and broken glass and shouting and cursing until someone kicks the huge guard off her back and hauls her to her feet with one hand.
"Can you run?" D'Argo asks, but she's on her way out the door before she can think to answer him. Bar'tex lays face up, chest a gaping hole, his own brutal weapon dangling from the end of his fingers. There's greenish blood covering her hands and arms that could have come from anywhere, but she's guessing it came from the merchant and she's angry and grateful and scared, barrels out the door, running smack into Crichton who takes one look at her, sees D'Argo pounding along behind her, and hits his com.
"Aeryn, we found her. And I think we're lookin' to make a quick getaway."
"Less talking, more running," D'Argo shouts, and Chiana nods vigorously.
*
Crichton comes to check on her before the beginning of the sleep cycle. She has the necklace spread out on a pillow. It's a twisting curl of silver and pale pink gems. It's lovely and delicate and she'll never wear it. She can sell it at the next planet, buy some nice Hynerian brandy or passage on another ship or… she closes her fingers over the necklace. It's insurance, an escape hatch, worth the risk she took getting it. If things go sour here, it's ready currency.
He steps into her room, rapping lightly on the grille to get her attention. His eyes flick down to the ends of the necklace spilling from her bare hand.
"Got to keep the goods, huh?"
A shiver of guilt pricks her spine, surprises her. She pushes it back, grins at him. "They didn't put this back before they decided to… punish me."
Crichton gives her a hard look. "From what I heard, you nearly got more than you bargained for."
She shrugs, holds up the necklace. "Well, I'm here now, and I'm fine and D'Argo got to play big brave Luxan warrior, so what's the problem?"
John scratches the back of his head, looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "Be glad it was D' who found you and not Aeryn. Hell, be glad it wasn't me. Aeryn would've left your ass there or shot you, and I would have been… less useful than D'Argo. You took an awful big risk for that jewelry, kid. We had to leave most of the stuff we needed behind, and me eating food cubes for the next weeken or so is the best of your problems right now. You put us all in danger. Moya can't starburst very often right now. You're lucky that guy didn't call the police."
Chiana narrows her eyes. "No one asked you to come after me."
He sighs. "Not how it works around here. You tell us you want off, and fine, we'll throw you a going away party, but until then…"
"Anything else you want?" she says, coiling up onto her knees, resting her hands on her thighs and looking him up and down.
He shakes his head, amused in spite of himself. "Chiana, you…We…No one's trying to be a hard ass, making rules for you. Hell, we can barely follow the rules we make for ourselves most days. But you…the PK's aren't after you. Not sure that's better than the people who are chasin' you, but I do know that if the Peacekeepers catch you…we're all…there're bounties, you know that…it's risky, we're takin' a risk here and I'd just hate to see it backfire."
He pauses, mutters under his breach. "Especially since it was my idea."
She leans towards him and he puts his fingers gently on her collarbone, touching but keeping her at a distance.
"D' said things were close today, that you could have easily been hurt."
"I can take care of myself," she repeats. "Could take care of you, too, if you wanted."
He barks out a laugh. "Little girl, I'm the last person you want on your side. You'd be way better off seducing your way into Aeryn's good graces."
She licked her lips. "And how would I do that? She doesn't even like me."
His mouth twitches, and he reaches up, taps her on the nose. "Might not be a bad idea to let Aeryn give you those lessons. She won't hurt you… much."
She quirks an eyebrow, plays along. "You think the offer still stands?"
John stands up, snorts through his nose. "The chance to kick your ass across the workout mat? At your request? Yeah, I'm guessing the offer's still good. And I think it'd be a relief to everyone to make the lessons mutual. I saw D'Argo scrubbing gold paint off his hands for most of the day yesterday looking mighty displeased, but that might just be Pilot and the DRDs lending Aeryn a helping hand. I'm willing to give both of you the benefit of the doubt." He grins at her.
"That's not exactly encouraging, Crichton. Besides, why would I let her beat the dren out of me for fun? I don't need her help."
He bites his lip, looks at her. "Might be good for both of you," he says.
He stops at the door, turns towards her, tapping the edge of his fist lightly against the grille. "I told you that you could stay until you wanted to jump ship, but…I think you'd better make a decision pretty soon."
***
The girl is trying to be subtle, handing Zhaan a small cloth bag, glancing around to make sure that no one can hear her.
Zhaan smiles beatifically, takes the bag.
"It is a generous offer, child."
Chiana shakes her head rapidly. "It's old and I'm tired of it. Besides, I'm as sick of eating ekelis paste as anyone."
When the pod leaves with John, D'Argo and Zhaan, Aeryn steps out of the shadows, snags Chiana around the bicep and pulls the girl towards her. "There are conduits to be cleared."
Chiana gives her a bemused look, tries to shrug out of her grasp. "And?"
"You will help me clear them, and when we're finished, we'll begin some basic self-defense."
"I know how to defend myself," she says, low and breathless, eyes sweeping up and down Aeryn's figure. "Even from you."
"I suppose we'll see then, won't we?" Aeryn moves in very close and then suddenly lets go with a flick of her fingers.
*
The first blow hurts like nothing she's ever felt, tight and low in her solar plexus and she wants to vomit onto the mat. Chiana turns, stumbles and falls to her knees.
Aeryn doesn't even ask if she's all right. Clad in loose black pants and a short tight shirt, midriff bared, Aeryn looks deadly and focused and beautiful. The workout clothes do nothing to hide her ferocity, fail to dull her presence the way the mishmash of clothing she wears normally does.
"Breathe through it, get back up."
Chiana shakes her head, stays on her knees. She understands pain, knows she doesn't want any part of being on the receiving end of it. She'll get up when she's frelling ready to.
Aeryn pads over to her, hauls her up by the elbow.
"It's always a surprise the first time. But after that, you know what's coming."
Clutching her stomach, Chiana glares up at her, expecting to see a smirk, some sort of joy at the pain she's just caused. Instead, Aeryn's features are still, a smooth mask with just a flicker of compassion in her eyes.
"You know it's going to hurt like frell. So you learn how to not get hit again."
Chiana uncurls, breathes, decides nothing's permanently damaged and wonders why the frell she's letting Aeryn beat her up for free.
She holds up her fists, and Aeryn hits her again. This time she does vomit. The DRD's whir in to clean up the mess, while Aeryn makes a disgusted noise low in her throat.
"Stand up."
She reaches for Chiana again, jumps back as Chi lashes out with her booted foot, aiming for Aeryn's vulnerable feet.
"Good," the soldier says, "Now stand up."
She struggles to her feat, cursing herself for giving Zhaan the necklace, for agreeing to this sadistic torture, and then Aeryn surprises her.
Gently, she runs a hand down Chiana's back. "Your spine, your posture is key." Her fingers brush over her belly. "Pull in here." They prod the top of her eema. "Tuck in there." Her knee nudges Chiana's. "Bend these slightly."
She takes Chiana's balled up hands, holds them in place. Aeryn's skin is cool, feels good, helps make some of the dizziness pass. Maybe Crichton was right. This is how you seduce a Peacekeeper.
She risks a glance at Aeryn's face and it's all focused intensity with traces of what could be pleasure. Peacekeepers are all about sex and violence, basic urges and giving orders. Those kinds of motives are something Chiana understands. If Aeryn wants to play this game, so be it.
"Move one foot back," she pushes at Chiana's right foot with her bare toes. "Keep your weight balanced between your feet. You want to be ready to turn, pivot, move forward or back or to the side at a microt's notice." Her hands rest on Chiana's hips, slowly adjusting her stance.
Aeryn steps away and raises her own fists. "When I hit you, try to block."
She's too fast, but Chiana knows what's coming, she curls in, drops her elbow and this time, the punch is shallow. She's only queasy for a microt or two.
"Not bad, but stand up straight and don't hunch. Drop your elbow like that, but more quickly."
The fourth time, it barely hurts at all.
*
It goes on like this for a weeken. She's given chores to do, and when she's exhausted, Aeryn drags her into the bay to fight. One day it's helping Crichton splice cable, the next assisting Zhaan in cataloguing her herbs. The tasks are always boring, and everyone but Aeryn grows tired of her complaints, lets her go halfway through.
But Aeryn and her fists and her cool hands, her warm breath and merciless lessons remain a constant. They go until Chiana's ready to sob, until Aeryn is sweaty and harassed and finished.
Chiana fights back as best she can, with her words and with her own kind of grace and quickness, but it's never enough. Aeryn ignores her taunts. "Makes you feel big and strong to hit someone smaller than you?" Her teasing. "You're just trying to get me on my back." In fact, Aeryn proves adept at ignoring everything except Chiana's body, and there her hands are constantly shifting, touching, stroking, readjusting, pushing until Chiana feels like soft clay that's being molded into something hard, unrecognizable.
She sticks around one evening, watching Crichton spar with Aeryn. The session is quick, practiced. He's hardly a threat to the ex-Peacekeeper, but he holds his own, fights dirty, talking and taunting and smiling at her as she puts him through drills and pacing and combat. They flow back and forth, answering each other with the motion of their bodies and another insight into Peacekeeper sex slides home for Chiana. This is something that's as effortless to them as breathing, this foist and parry, and what she's watching is foreplay, what she's been a part of is foreplay. It's all the same, and these two are acting out their own sort of conversation in the movement of their bodies, in the punches and kicks and blocks, the surprises that come in every session, the anticipation of what can happen next.
Aeryn doesn't pull her punches and Crichton already has a bloody lip when he ducks, feints, gets in an unexpected kick. Chiana is unexpectedly breathless, cheers when Aeryn drops to her knees for a microt, comes back at Crichton with a fast, blurred follow through. When she knocks him onto his back, knees slamming against his biceps, Chiana feels her own body flush. She leaves the room as Crichton's chest heaves, as Aeryn shifts her weight down onto his belly, as they murmur insults and accolades, blocking out everything else in the room. Chiana takes her own pleasure in her fresher, curses Aeryn for the bruises on her eema, wonders why the frell she keeps showing up when they tell her where to go, what to do.
She wonders what it would take to get Aeryn to offer her even a fraction of the kindness she shows to Crichton. She could have hurt him seriously, instead she rendered him ineffective, then smiled at him with pride, pressed her beautiful body close to his, and announced the inevitable victory.
It’s not like Chiana's got anything else to do, and sure, she's still trying to keep enough in everyone's good graces to decide whether or not she wants to stay. She's buying time, making room, but by the final day, sporting a nasty black eye, Chiana's sick of everything and everyone on this cursed ship.
The last sparring lesson ended with Chiana face down on the mat, Aeryn's knee in her back, her arm jacked at an angle that was painful even for her. If this was Aeryn's idea of a proposition, it was getting old. Chiana isn't Crichton, already trapped in that language of violence, attuned to Aeryn's moods and pleasures. She doesn't have to be. D'Argo seems to like her, as does Crichton, at least well enough. And she's starting to like Zhaan and the slug, despite the former's holier than thou attitude and the latter's smell.
She doesn't need Aeryn to like her, and she doesn't need to get her eema stomped into the ground day after day in an attempt to get the bloody Peacekeeper off her back. The sessions leave her bruised and breathless and confused. She's never met a Peacekeeper with the sort of patience that Aeryn is exhibiting. She's never met a soldier of any kind who was willing to wait to take what he or she wanted. The anticipation is killing Chiana.
When D'Argo coms her to help him store the provisions to prepare for a possible ferrying job, she ignores his hail. Instead, she spends the afternoon following Rygel around, learning his latest hiding place which turns out to be just across the hall from Aeryn's quarters.
Chiana fingers the bruise around her eye socket, and decides she isn't quite ready to concede.
Aeryn's lock is easy enough to tease open, and Chiana slips inside, stands there, at a loss. There's nothing here, barely any evidence that anyone lives in the room. The urge to mess things up, to shake the room out of order is irresistible.
She starts with the bedside table, turns out the contents – a chakkan oil cartridge, and a few tiny vials of some unlabeled substance, and a light stick. The upper shelves are no better. Colorless clothing and black socks and underwear. Nothing personal, nothing to take. Disgusted, Chiana puts the clothes back, shoving them up onto the high shelf and leaves the contents of the drawer on the floor where she's dropped them.
***
Rygel passes her in the corridor, his throne sled at maximum speed. He bangs into her shoulder, "Get out of my way, tralk."
She whaps at him as he passes, but he's too far ahead of her and all she brushes against is air. It isn't until he's around the bend that she hears the heavy slap of boots on skin steel, and then there's a hand on the back of her neck, pressing into the back of her skull as she's frog marched into the nearest cell.
She's shoved forward, trips and spins around, but Aeryn's far, far faster than she is. The solider hits her so fast there's no time to block, knocks her to the ground and drops down on top of her. She grabs Chiana's arms, slams them against the floor.
There's no way to fight free, so she falls back on her sills, rolls her hips, bites at her bottom lip, hopes this is just Aeryn's way of saying please.
"Pay attention!" Aeryn knocks her forehead against Chiana's bouncing her skull against the deck. "You need to be reliable on your own, take care of your own safety, and you can't frell your way out of this."
Chi bares her teeth and arches her back at a steep angle, Aeryn's knees lifting off the deck as she rides the buck of her captive's spine. It's now or never. "I was thinking an exchange of skills and services."
"What could you teach me?" Aeryn sneers, boots grinding into Chi's thighs as Chi grinds from below. "Market price?"
"How long has it been since you got good and sweaty from something other than violence? Or is that the only thing that gets you off?"
Aeryn dips her head down, eyes bright and tone cold. "I get off just fine. I'm more concerned right now with making sure you don't get us all killed."
"Sounds like an excuse to me." She tilts up, lips sliding along Aeryn's mouth and then howls as her head slams back into the flooring.
"What the frell was that?" Aeryn's angry now, clearly startled at the tactic and Chi goes cold and still. She's made the wrong call. Aeryn's eyes narrow and she cants down her pelvis, hard. Chi moans at the pain pleasure of the motion.
"Chiana," Aeryn tilts her head, hair tickling Chi's nose, squeezes her wrists for good measure. "What exactly do you think we're doing here?"
She licks her lips, nervous, exhilarated. "Foreplay."
Aeryn drops her wrists, swings her leg over and squats down beside the girl. "Are you frelling kidding me?"
Chi scoots up to sitting, backing away from Aeryn, keeping out of arms reach.
"You kept… waiting for me… touching me. You didn't kill me after I put syrup in the Prowler, and then Crichton… and I thought..."
Aeryn tilts her head, still looking baffled and uncomfortable, face twisted in a grimace.
"I taught you the same way I taught John…." Her voice trails off and she purses her mouth.
"Oh?" Chiana fights back a grin, angles forward.
"Oh. Oh, I, um…"
"A trade's all it is. I don't mind learning to fight, but you're so bossy, think you're always right, think everything has to be your way. I thought maybe a little fighting, a little frelling, I could pay you back for the … lessons. Maybe you'd be nicer to me."
"I wasn't looking for... I'm not… I don't…"
"Have sex? Even Peacekeepers with a frelling shock stick rammed up their eema have sex, Aeryn. And you don't seem to be getting it from anyone else on board."
Aeryn's cheeks flush and she grips the handle of her gun. On microt she's sitting there, disconcerted and a little angry, the next she's flush to Chiana, her knee riding between Chiana's legs, grinding into her sex, hand fisted in her hair.
"This is what you were offering?" Aeryn murmurs, and bites down on her earlobe. "Sex for safety?" She yanks back Chiana's neck, runs her nose along the hollow of her throat, teeth scraping at her neck. It hurts. It feels amazing, and scary, and… terribly unsafe.
Chiana grinds against Aeryn's thigh, tries to get purchase on her shirt and then Aeryn shoves her away, mouth a disgusted moue.
"Or maybe I'm wrong." Chiana wipes her mouth, stares at the other woman.
"Or maybe it's not your concern who I frell or don't frell. But one way or another it certainly wouldn't be… you."
"Why not?" That stings, just a little. What's wrong with her? "I'm good at what I do, and you're not unattractive… a little… aggressive, but that can be fun too, sometimes." She licks her lower lip. "I've been with worse."
"I didn't ask for payment. Certainly not that sort of payment." Aeryn tilts her head, reaching for some sort of understanding. Her eyes are dark, anger flashing in them, and Chiana flicks her eyes to the door, wonders if she's fast enough to get up, get past Aeryn without getting caught.
Aeryn sits back on her heels, rests her hand on her gun. Okay, the odds of escape are bad.
Chiana pulls her knees in tight, stares hard at Aeryn, offers up the only truth she has in this morass of misunderstanding. "No one does anything for free, and you hadn't asked for anything else so I thought…"
"I never asked Crichton for any sort of payment…" She's stuck on the phrase, mouth twisted around it in fury, disgust.
Chiana snorts. "Crichton gets his own kind of reward. Gets to be with you when you get all sweaty and intent, touching him, pressed up against him. He's not as dumb as he looks, Aeryn."
Aeryn flushes again, anger riding her lush mouth, but she doesn't say anything.
"Maybe neither are you." Chiana sighs.
"If I'd wanted to frell you, I'd have let you know. I'm a soldier, Chiana. Not a tralk. I don't sell my skills, don't trade on them. And I don't… you're…"
"Female?"
Aeryn narrows her eyes, looking grim. "Alien."
"But you and Crichton…"
She sets her mouth, draws her boundaries. "That is… not… that is none of your business."
Chiana blinks at that, bites back. "All of you trade yourselves. You trade Moya and Pilot. You sell everything you can find, including yourselves to keep running, to not get caught. You're no different than I am just because you don't use sex for currency. And at least I'm having a good time."
"It's not a trade," Aeryn grits out. "I'm not looking for payment for services rendered."
Chiana doesn't call her on that lie. It's something Aeryn clearly believes. The fear is receding slightly, the anger creeping back in. "So what the frell is it then? Why do you keep trying to teach me to fight, ambushing me in the hall, acting like a drannit on a rampage? I can take care of myself. I didn't ask for your help and I don't need it."
Aeryn pushes herself to standing, shakes her head. "You deliberately sabotaged our lone means of defense to get back at me. You ignored our warnings, got separated from Zhaan and almost got all of us arrested on the planet because you thought that the offer of a good frell would keep that enforcer from hurting you and you were wrong. You don't think of anyone but yourself and that selfishness puts Pilot and Moya in danger, not to mention the rest of us. You can't frell your way out of every situation when your actions affect other people."
Chi sets her jaw, blinks back the angry tears pricking in the corner of her eye at the sanctimoniousness of the speech. "Fine, if I'm so much of a risk, I'll leave at the next planet."
Aeryn shrugs. "I won't object. You know that. I think you're a danger to all of our safety. John thinks differently. I lack his… generosity. The others, well… I suppose it depends upon whether you've stolen from them or inconvenienced them. They may think you've done something to prove your worth. If you have, I've yet to see it."
She's graceful, predatory as she looms over Chiana. "The lessons are over, though. You had your chance. From now on, you are on your own. Both in here, and out there."
She stalks out of the empty cell, leaves Chiana to clutch at her knees and think about trade-offs.
A few microts later, Crichton's voice rings out over her com. "Hey little grey girl, we're makin' some dinner. Gonna have a family meeting tonight. How 'bout you come down here and help out."
She doesn't answer the com, but eventually, she gets up, goes to meet Crichton in the galley.
***
Aeryn takes a sip from her cup, watching the nebula twist and dance in the distance. Sitting propped up against the console in command, she kicks John in the ankle. He's been asleep for half an arn and he's starting to snore.
"Shut up, Crichton." But there's no rancor in it.
He opens up one eye, glances over at her and shuts it again, props his hands behind his head.
"Not such a bad day," he says, yawning widely. "Gonna have a baby, survived multi-dimensional beings and lotsa puking. Learned a bunch of dirty jokes from his Frogness."
"Mmm," she agrees. "Not a terrible day."
He extricates one of his hands, pokes her in the thigh. She grabs his fingers, squeezes hard. "Damn, you're mean," he chuckles. She relaxes her hold and he doesn't pull his hand away, taps his fingers against her thigh.
"Did you really pretend to be stupid when you were learning to fight so that I'd touch you?"
Both of his eyes fly open. "What? No. No, I really am that stupid. Really."
She snorts, takes a gulp of her tea.
"I told Chiana that I wouldn't give her any more lessons."
He let that sink in. "So no more take downs in the hallway either?"
She shrugs, shakes her head. "I can't control what she does or doesn't do. Or why. But if she puts Moya or Pilot in danger, John, I will space her."
"She did okay today," he says softly, and rolls to sitting. "She's just looking for some place to be. Same as all of us."
Aeryn looks at him out of the corner of her eye. "That remains to be seen."
He touches her knee. "She's a kid, Aeryn, trying to figure out who she is. She's not gonna betray us."
She looks at him, finishes her tea. "She thought I was looking for sex as a trade for learning to fight."
John gulps, drops his head into his hands. "I wonder how she could have gotten that kind of idea."
Aeryn's mouth twitches. "I can't imagine."
He looks up at her, a grin playing on his lips, "So, you take her up on her offer?"
Aeryn flattens her mouth, raises an eyebrow, and doesn't say a word.
He gulps heavily, nodding. "I think I'm gonna need some alone time now."
She rolls her eyes, shoves at his forehead which goes lolling , and he smiles at her, rich and wide and warm. "Thanks for not killing her, Aeryn."
"Let's just hope I made the right choice," she says, with a sigh, turns back to the nebula in the view screen.
Title: Tit for Tat (The Family Feud Remix)
Remix Author: Thea
Original Story: Exchange of Goods and Services by zvi
Summary: What would you trade for a place to call home?
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Farscape
Notes: My everlasting thanks to all of the Hussies, but particularly
rubberneck who sat me down, said, "This is what you can do." and showed me how to do it. Unsurprisingly, there are several lines of dialogue that belong to her and her alone.Spoilers: Only for Season One
Zhaan is there to greet them when they return. Aeryn, D'Argo and Rygel have already exited the pod by the time the docking web pulls Crichton's module into the bay. Chiana sits on the edge of the table, legs swinging, waiting for something to happen. Moya had been far too quiet while the others were gone. It wasn't nearly as… entertaining to snurch Rygel's things when he wasn't there to protest, to wheedle back the goods that he himself had liberated.
Crichton stays in the module after it lands, and finally the others leave him to his own thoughts, his own time. She stays, waiting to see what he's seen, why he came back.
He pops the opening to his module, wearily hauls himself out. He's wearing the ridiculous orange suit, and when he drops to the ground he unzips it, peels it off like it's too hot, like it's hurting him and throws it back into the module.
She slips off the table, gets closer, drawn in by his fatigue, by the strange actions and the fact that he's here.
He slams the door to the cockpit so hard the small module shakes.
"Did it do something to piss you off?" she asks.
He startles, slaps his hand to his chest, "Jesus Christ, Chiana. You scared the crap out of me."
She shrugs, a half apology. "Why'd you come back, Crichton?"
His eyes are very blue, his skin ashy. He gives her a hard look, then his mouth softens. "You ever get homesick, Chi?"
The laugh catches in her throat, tastes smoky and bitter. "Sick of home," she answers, flippant.
He nods. "Wasn't really my home, though. Just some place that looked like it."
"That's completely tinked, Crichton."
"Yeah," he says, with a harsh laugh. "It really is."
He slings an arm around her shoulders. "So, didja miss me?"
She pokes him in the side with her elbow. "You weren't gone long enough to miss. But the slug and I did divvy up your things, before he...left."
"Just mine…?"
She slips out from under his arm. "I'll… uh… see you in the galley. I've gotta… go do something…"
His laughter follows her down the hallway and this time it's sweet.
*
Aeryn doesn't look at him when he enters the galley, but D'Argo shoves a half-empty bowl of greens towards him, nods at the basket of bread.
John raises an eyebrow, slides onto the bench next to Aeryn.
She swallows, reaches for the bread. John takes a roll, breaks it into bits, wishes he would have snagged some fake chocolate just for the hell of it. He could still close his eyes and pretend it was the real thing.
"Who cooked?" he asks, chewing, pretending the bread tasted like… bread. See, he knew he could do it.
"The Nebari," Aeryn answers, picks at the greens with her fingers. He tries not to like that she eats like a kid, that she'll put things in her mouth with these graceful deliberate motions that don't negate the fact that she's eating with her fingers. He's just learned a whole new repertoire of things those talented fingers can do: piloting, shooting, him - easy and efficient and effortless. Okay, not effortless and not without an answer on his part.
Zhaan interrupts his musing and it's a good thing. He's hardening under the table and he's still too raw to be having sex thoughts at dinner, too edgy to sit next to Aeryn and think about chocolate and wish for something from home. Zhaan touches his hand, the blue so stark against his hand that it's a shock.
He looks up at her, while she agrees with Aeryn. "I found some of my oils in her quarters," she says carefully. "I believe this is her… reciprocity for the theft."
"Don't you mean restitution, bluie?"
Zhaan strokes his fingers, withdraws her hand. "She's testing her boundaries, finding what can be given and what can be taken. I think reciprocity is appropriate."
"If I catch her in my quarters, there won't be any argument over what to call it," Aeryn replies tartly.
"She has many skills," Zhaan replies, wry and amused. "I believe that she's attempting to… prove her worth to us."
Aeryn snorts. "Those are not the sort of skills we need more of. If we want someone to steal and flee, we've already got Rygel."
"At least she can cook," D'Argo says around a mouthful of greens.
Aeryn purses her mouth. "I'd rather she could be trusted to leave things in their place or be good in a firefight."
John nudges her with his elbow and she kicks him in the ankle. He tries not to grin, to jostle her for the sheer pleasure of contact. "That's just 'cause you'll eat anything. The rest of us get tired of food cubes."
She glares at him and he smiles back, a little of the tension, the sorrow loosening in his chest.
Rising, taking the pitcher of water from the counter, Zhaan pours the liquid into the empty cups. "Perhaps she has skills that she has yet to display."
***
Chiana fights back, struggling at the hold on her neck, thrashing, trying to angle so she can hit or hurt or bite, gloved fingers clawing at the arm against her throat. Her struggle is futile. The grip tightens on her neck and the light of the passageway dims as her air lessens. She lets herself fall limp, goes still and quiet. Her captor's weight shifts forward as she drops.
"Thought you could get out of anything," Aeryn's voice is low, husky in her ear. "Slip any grasp."
The pressure on Chiana's throat lessens.
"U…usually," she stutters, struggling now for dignity. She doesn't think Aeryn really intends to kill her. Probably. "I'm not being grabbed from behind for those reasons."
Aeryn tightens her hold again, the hard bone in her forearm thrusting Chiana's chin up. She gasps, whimpers, kicks back with her heel. It connects but Aeryn doesn't let go. Chiana flails her elbows, knows she's hit something when Aeryn grunts, but the woman still holds tight. Blood pounds in Chiana's brain, stars and blackness throbbing behind her eyes.
"Fall," Aeryn hisses. "Stop struggling and fall."
She follows the words, follows her instincts, drops her weight again, bends her knees and falls forward. The hold loosens just enough and Chiana lets her momentum take her forward, lashes back again with her heel and slips free.
She doesn't look back at Aeryn, pride stinging like a head wound. Keeps going forward, rounds the corner and tucks herself in between Moya's ribs, screams her frustration into the golden walls.
***
"She's useless."
John tightens the bolt on the inside of the module.
"She's not useless."
Aeryn tosses a component back and forth, catches D'Argo's eye. He gazes back impassively.
"She's trouble, regardless. We should drop her at the next planet."
"Told her she could stay as long as she wanted. She's just gotta live by our rules."
"What rules?" D'Argo snorts. "On our best days we live in controlled chaos."
"I do not live in chaos," Aeryn answers primly.
D'Argo faux sneezes into his hand, "Bullshit."
"Do you even know what that means?" she curls her lips at him in disgust, shoots a glare at John who's now resting his forearms on the hood of his module, mouth twitching on the verge of amusement.
"Yes," D'Argon answers back gravely.
"I still think she's useless," Aeryn mutters.
John ducks back into the modules hood. "So make her less useless. Worked with me."
D'Argo repeats his fake sneeze and ducks as a spanner sails towards his head.
***
The wall slams against her back.
"If you touch my prowler again, I will damage you permanently."
Aeryn isn't even breaking a sweat and Chiana kicks her feet, clings to the other woman's forearm. It's a frelled reversal of the earlier ambush, but this time carries the weight of Aeryn's intent.
She uses her strength, her balance, forces Chiana against the wall, leans in so that her breath is hot against her cheek.
"Stop struggling," Aeryn orders, low and fierce. Chiana ignores her suggestion, continues to try and get free.
Aeryn thrusts her back and Chiana's head smacks into the wall. She whimpers, claws, kicks.
"If you stop struggling, you can get out of this." Aeryn's throaty voice dances around bitter amusement, but panic has set in and Chiana doesn't have a choice. She grabs and grasps, flutters and flails, and black washes over her.
She comes to slumped on the ground. Her throat hurts, eyes sore, hip bruised. Aeryn squats down beside her, takes her chin in her hand.
"When I tell you to do something, you should do it."
Chiana swats at her, knocking her hand away and holds her throat, fighting back tears. Aeryn leans into her space.
"Next time, do not struggle. Grab my thumb, yank it back and kick forward, hard."
The woman stands, and Chiana looks up at her. Aeryn's face is blank.
"Leave me the frell alone," she whispers, voice hoarse, raw.
"Not yet," Aeryn mutters, turns to go, and looks over her shoulder. "And that was a warning. You won't get another. Do not touch my ship."
***
"So you're really not going to help me?"
She's wheedling, standing too close, looking up at him, body angled so that if he drops his eyes, he'll be able to see down the front of her shirt.
D'Argo sighs, and gently moves her out of his way, big hands spanning the width of her hips. "No, I will not help you set a trap for Aeryn."
"But she's gone totally fahrbot. She's tried to kill me twice in the last weeken and then sent the DRDs after me this morning with some sort of hot glue."
"Chiana, if Aeryn had really wanted to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Besides, there are… things coming out of the walls on tier 7 and whatever they are, they are disgusting. I need to help Crichton dispose of them." He pauses, considers. "I doubt she was responsible for the glue."
She pokes him in the arm. Jab, jab. "So how am I supposed to defend myself against a psychotic Peacekeeper, then?"
D'Argo raises his eyebrow, puts his hand on her shoulder, strokes his thumb quickly over her collarbone and then widens his eyes, surprised at his action.
"Perhaps that's the point."
***
Crichton limps into the galley, dripping water and amnexus fluid. His expression is sour, fetid as the smell coming off him in waves. He drops the boot on the table in front of Aeryn, and slaps his hands down on either side of the filthy footwear. Leaning forward, he gets within denches of her face.
"I only got one pair of boots left that don't give me blisters, and now the mate of this," his eyes drop down to the shoe, flit back up to meet Aeryn's impassive gaze, "is at the bottom of the fluid chamber, and I'm damned lucky that my foot's not still in it."
Aeryn raises an eyebrow, cocks her head. "How is you losing your boot a concern of mine?"
Chiana folds into the counter, trying to make herself smaller, unobtrusive as she watches this play out. Crichton is feeling hiszoats, whatever that means. He points his finger, pokes Aeryn in the chest and grits out, "I got caught in one of your little booby traps."
Aeryn's mouth twitches, and Chiana stifles her own giggle. No matter how many times he explains the concept, booby trap still sounds delightfully dirty.
"That trap should only have taken effect in a few denches of water. Perhaps it's another symptom of the pregnancy…" her voice trails off as she considers that.
The eyebrow creeps even higher.
"So not the point. You set the trap for her." He glances up, moves that pointing finger to Chiana. "I got caught in it. And I want my boot back."
Aeryn shoves the boot aside with her wrist, takes a long drag from her cup, and stands. "Fair enough."
Crichton watches her leave, his anger imploded from having won the argument.
"Don't be so blazted, it's me she wants to kill."
"She doesn't want to kill you, Pip. It's just her way of making you part of the crew."
"Or killing me."
"She's just got a funny way of showing things, that's all."
"She do this to you?"
"Kicked my ass six ways from Sunday, 'til I learned to fight back."
"Ever try fighting dirty?"
Crichton goes quiet, curling one of his big toes against the deck until it cracks. "It only worked the once, but it was a weird situation. There was beer."
"But you won?"
He sighs, yanking his boot off the table. "Scored on a technicality, maybe."
Chiana watches him leave, and wonders if there's more to Aeryn's sudden interest than just kicking the dren out of her.
***
Aeryn is cross-legged on the bed, polishing her boots when he knocks on the wall, asks permission to enter. She glances up, tilts her chin and he comes in, flips the chair around, sits facing her, arms resting on the back of the chair.
"How're your boots?" She shines the toe, rubs off the latest scuff. It's a thankless task. Her own boots are more worn than his, the sole tilted from her gait, the leather thin around the toes. But she's stubborn, refuses to shop for new things, instead scavenging what's left in Moya's empty cells. She arrived with those boots, and swears that nothing else left behind fits right. He knows the feeling, he still wishes he hadn't ruined his old khakis.
He lifts up his heels, squelches down the arch and grimaces. "Still soggy."
John tilts his head, looks at her. Her hair is pulled back in a tail, wisps escaping around her face and he likes the intense concentration that schools her features. He likes the look of her engaged in a task.
"You know, you might wanna tell Chiana what you're doing."
Her eyebrow raises, but she doesn't look up. "And what exactly am I doing?"
"She's not me, Aeryn. She's got some survival instinct, knows how the universe works. She's gonna fight back eventually and I'm guessing that's not going to end well."
"She's a liability." Aeryn puts down the rag, looks up at him. There's a smudge of polish high on her cheekbone, a smear on the back of her wrist and he'd like to go over, brush it off her skin, feel her flesh against his palm. He stays put. "She's only concerned with her own survival."
"So's Rygel, but I don't see you jumping him in corridors. Hmm?"
Aeryn lifts her shoulders, an impatient shrug. "Rygel has as much to lose as we do by betraying any of us if he's captured. She does not. We'd be an easy trade if she found herself in a compromised situation."
He licks his bottom lip, picks up the thread of logic. "But she's not too fond of authority, so you figure she's more likely to run then stay 'n tattle."
Aeryn nods. "Possibly." She picks up the rag again, shines the side of her boot. "Peacekeepers don't play games, John. They don't get distracted by pretty little tralks. They will shoot first, and ask questions when their captive is writhing in pain. She needs to know how to escape so that we aren't captured as well."
John sighs, stands up and walks over to her. "I think you're enjoying this." He takes a risk, brushes his thumb over her cheek, removing the smudge. She glares, shoulders him in the chest. He holds up his hands in surrender. She smirks, mouth a dangerous line, turns it into a half smile. He swallows hard.
"Payback's a bitch," He backs up until he's standing in the door, until the temptation ebbs. "I'm just sayin'…"
***
"Chiana!!!"
Everyone's com screeches out her name, the rage pouring through.
John puts down his spoon, raises his eyebrow. "Do we need to circle the wagons?"
She continues to eat her breakfast, shrugs one shoulder. "I'm not afraid of her."
Crichton barks out a laugh, chokes on his breakfast then spits it across the table as D'Argo whacks him hard on the back. The glob of pasty looking cereal lands on Rygel's cheek. He wipes it off with disgust, flinging it onto the table then licks his fingers and sniffs with superiority, "Then you're even more foolish than you look."
"Chiana, get down here now or I will come up there and drag you down to the hangar by your tongue!!!"
This time it's only her com. Chiana tilts up her chin. "Mela syrup in the controls," she says by way of explanation, smirking. "It won't do any… permanent… damage."
John and D'Argo exchange a glance. "Well," Crichton sighs, "That's one way of fighting dirty."
He takes another bite of his cereal.
"If this doesn't work," she says, "then I'll try it your way."
Crichton chokes again, D'Argo hits him, and Rygel puts up his hand as a shield.
"Crichton, your table manners are revolting. And I prefer my bugs alive and squirming, not predigested thank you very much."
Crichton looks at his bowl, looks back up at Rygel. "Bugs? Predigested?"
Chiana laughs. "What the frell did you think you were eating?"
John stands up, slaps his hand over his and bolts for the waste funnel.
"Barbarian," Rygel mutters, and slurps the cereal off his fingers.
***
"I don't care if it tastes like hammered crap, I'm not eating any more bugs."
Aeryn rolls her eyes. "You say that now, but in a weeken, you're going to be whining about how foul it tastes. And besides you're the only one who objects to the ekelis paste. Everyone else but Rygel eats it without complaint."
"It's bugs!"
"Well it was bugs before and you ate it every morning for a monen."
"Yeah, but I didn't know it was bugs."
"It's better than the wheta berries." D'Argo grouses, adding in his two cents.
"Yeah, well they looked like raspberries and smelled like raspberries and it's not my fault that they tasted like alien sweat socks and gave everyone gas."
D'Argo narrows his eyes. "You did not have to spend two arns trapped in a ventilation shaft with Rygel while he was… ventilating."
"Fine, you're right, but I'm still not eating bugs."
"We should just get more food cubes, and…"
"No." John and D'Argo chorus together.
"I'd rather eat the bugs," John adds and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Fine," Aeryn sighs. "You can use your share to buy your oat meal, and we'll lay in a stock of ekelis paste which you will be begging for after a few days of that and…"
"Aeryn, John…"
Zhaan's voice is low and tight across the comm. "What is it, Blue?"
"I was looking at the zycan root, just for a microt, checking the price and when I turned back, Chiana had disappeared."
"Frell!"
John touches Aeryn's shoulder, catches D'Argo's eye.
"Any idea where she might be headed?"
"No, but she was eyeing a small jewelry stand near the market entrance right after we separated. There were several other stands long the way, perhaps the ale house…"
"We're close to there," D'Argo answers, "We'll go check it out."
"D'Argo," Zhaan's voice goes even lower, "I think there were beacons in the town square. Please be careful."
*
"I was just seeing how it would look… and I just…forgot to take it off…"
The merchant was decidedly non bi-pedal. Four gawky limbs on the floor and two short stubby arms tapped against the glass covering his high counter as he watches the proceedings.
The two burly guards holding Chiana by her arms have a more traditional set of limbs. Impervious to the girl's squirming, they dangle her half a metra off the floor.
"I hesitate to call the militia, little thief," the merchant says, coming out from behind the counter. "That would involve paperwork and bureaucracy and you could get off on a technicality."
"That's… uh… that's great. You don't need to call them into this. It was just a little misunderstanding."
"No," the merchant scuttles forward until he can look Chiana in the eye. "You stole from me. And I don't like it when people steal from me."
Chiana catches sight of D'Argo in the doorframe and her eyes go wide. He has his hand on the hilt of his qualta blad, but he makes no move to draw it from his sheath. Instead, he watches and waits.
"I uh… I'm sure I can make it up to you," she says, throaty and smooth, trying to flirt and flail at the same time. "I've got lots of… skills that you might like to,,, take advantage of."
The merchant reaches forward, drawing a stubby finger over the exposed skin of her belly. "I'm sure you do, girl. However, you're not exactly to my… taste. My guards however… will still appreciate you at the end of the weeken, after you've been beaten and sent to my labor camp to mine the gems we use in that pretty little necklace you stole."
Chiana tenses her arms, prepares for another chance at freedom and drops her eyes, looks coyly under her lashes at the merchant. "How 'bout you let me give them a little taste now," she says, breathy and desperate, "so they know what they have to look forward to."
"I don't think so." The merchant waves his limb dismissively, backs up.
"Bar'tex," he orders. The guard on the right drops her arm, and the other pulls her tightly to him in a headlock. "Why don't we give her… a little taste?"
Bar'tex brings back one meaty fist and aims for her cheek. She turns her head, drops her weight and his fist glances off the back of her skull and slams into the chin of the guard holding her. Her ears are ringing from the blow but she concentrates, strikes back with her fist, connects with his groin and they both go tumbling down.
The first shot from the qualta blade shatters the glass, the second shatters the skull of guard number two and from that point on it's all flying crockery and broken glass and shouting and cursing until someone kicks the huge guard off her back and hauls her to her feet with one hand.
"Can you run?" D'Argo asks, but she's on her way out the door before she can think to answer him. Bar'tex lays face up, chest a gaping hole, his own brutal weapon dangling from the end of his fingers. There's greenish blood covering her hands and arms that could have come from anywhere, but she's guessing it came from the merchant and she's angry and grateful and scared, barrels out the door, running smack into Crichton who takes one look at her, sees D'Argo pounding along behind her, and hits his com.
"Aeryn, we found her. And I think we're lookin' to make a quick getaway."
"Less talking, more running," D'Argo shouts, and Chiana nods vigorously.
*
Crichton comes to check on her before the beginning of the sleep cycle. She has the necklace spread out on a pillow. It's a twisting curl of silver and pale pink gems. It's lovely and delicate and she'll never wear it. She can sell it at the next planet, buy some nice Hynerian brandy or passage on another ship or… she closes her fingers over the necklace. It's insurance, an escape hatch, worth the risk she took getting it. If things go sour here, it's ready currency.
He steps into her room, rapping lightly on the grille to get her attention. His eyes flick down to the ends of the necklace spilling from her bare hand.
"Got to keep the goods, huh?"
A shiver of guilt pricks her spine, surprises her. She pushes it back, grins at him. "They didn't put this back before they decided to… punish me."
Crichton gives her a hard look. "From what I heard, you nearly got more than you bargained for."
She shrugs, holds up the necklace. "Well, I'm here now, and I'm fine and D'Argo got to play big brave Luxan warrior, so what's the problem?"
John scratches the back of his head, looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "Be glad it was D' who found you and not Aeryn. Hell, be glad it wasn't me. Aeryn would've left your ass there or shot you, and I would have been… less useful than D'Argo. You took an awful big risk for that jewelry, kid. We had to leave most of the stuff we needed behind, and me eating food cubes for the next weeken or so is the best of your problems right now. You put us all in danger. Moya can't starburst very often right now. You're lucky that guy didn't call the police."
Chiana narrows her eyes. "No one asked you to come after me."
He sighs. "Not how it works around here. You tell us you want off, and fine, we'll throw you a going away party, but until then…"
"Anything else you want?" she says, coiling up onto her knees, resting her hands on her thighs and looking him up and down.
He shakes his head, amused in spite of himself. "Chiana, you…We…No one's trying to be a hard ass, making rules for you. Hell, we can barely follow the rules we make for ourselves most days. But you…the PK's aren't after you. Not sure that's better than the people who are chasin' you, but I do know that if the Peacekeepers catch you…we're all…there're bounties, you know that…it's risky, we're takin' a risk here and I'd just hate to see it backfire."
He pauses, mutters under his breach. "Especially since it was my idea."
She leans towards him and he puts his fingers gently on her collarbone, touching but keeping her at a distance.
"D' said things were close today, that you could have easily been hurt."
"I can take care of myself," she repeats. "Could take care of you, too, if you wanted."
He barks out a laugh. "Little girl, I'm the last person you want on your side. You'd be way better off seducing your way into Aeryn's good graces."
She licked her lips. "And how would I do that? She doesn't even like me."
His mouth twitches, and he reaches up, taps her on the nose. "Might not be a bad idea to let Aeryn give you those lessons. She won't hurt you… much."
She quirks an eyebrow, plays along. "You think the offer still stands?"
John stands up, snorts through his nose. "The chance to kick your ass across the workout mat? At your request? Yeah, I'm guessing the offer's still good. And I think it'd be a relief to everyone to make the lessons mutual. I saw D'Argo scrubbing gold paint off his hands for most of the day yesterday looking mighty displeased, but that might just be Pilot and the DRDs lending Aeryn a helping hand. I'm willing to give both of you the benefit of the doubt." He grins at her.
"That's not exactly encouraging, Crichton. Besides, why would I let her beat the dren out of me for fun? I don't need her help."
He bites his lip, looks at her. "Might be good for both of you," he says.
He stops at the door, turns towards her, tapping the edge of his fist lightly against the grille. "I told you that you could stay until you wanted to jump ship, but…I think you'd better make a decision pretty soon."
***
The girl is trying to be subtle, handing Zhaan a small cloth bag, glancing around to make sure that no one can hear her.
Zhaan smiles beatifically, takes the bag.
"It is a generous offer, child."
Chiana shakes her head rapidly. "It's old and I'm tired of it. Besides, I'm as sick of eating ekelis paste as anyone."
When the pod leaves with John, D'Argo and Zhaan, Aeryn steps out of the shadows, snags Chiana around the bicep and pulls the girl towards her. "There are conduits to be cleared."
Chiana gives her a bemused look, tries to shrug out of her grasp. "And?"
"You will help me clear them, and when we're finished, we'll begin some basic self-defense."
"I know how to defend myself," she says, low and breathless, eyes sweeping up and down Aeryn's figure. "Even from you."
"I suppose we'll see then, won't we?" Aeryn moves in very close and then suddenly lets go with a flick of her fingers.
*
The first blow hurts like nothing she's ever felt, tight and low in her solar plexus and she wants to vomit onto the mat. Chiana turns, stumbles and falls to her knees.
Aeryn doesn't even ask if she's all right. Clad in loose black pants and a short tight shirt, midriff bared, Aeryn looks deadly and focused and beautiful. The workout clothes do nothing to hide her ferocity, fail to dull her presence the way the mishmash of clothing she wears normally does.
"Breathe through it, get back up."
Chiana shakes her head, stays on her knees. She understands pain, knows she doesn't want any part of being on the receiving end of it. She'll get up when she's frelling ready to.
Aeryn pads over to her, hauls her up by the elbow.
"It's always a surprise the first time. But after that, you know what's coming."
Clutching her stomach, Chiana glares up at her, expecting to see a smirk, some sort of joy at the pain she's just caused. Instead, Aeryn's features are still, a smooth mask with just a flicker of compassion in her eyes.
"You know it's going to hurt like frell. So you learn how to not get hit again."
Chiana uncurls, breathes, decides nothing's permanently damaged and wonders why the frell she's letting Aeryn beat her up for free.
She holds up her fists, and Aeryn hits her again. This time she does vomit. The DRD's whir in to clean up the mess, while Aeryn makes a disgusted noise low in her throat.
"Stand up."
She reaches for Chiana again, jumps back as Chi lashes out with her booted foot, aiming for Aeryn's vulnerable feet.
"Good," the soldier says, "Now stand up."
She struggles to her feat, cursing herself for giving Zhaan the necklace, for agreeing to this sadistic torture, and then Aeryn surprises her.
Gently, she runs a hand down Chiana's back. "Your spine, your posture is key." Her fingers brush over her belly. "Pull in here." They prod the top of her eema. "Tuck in there." Her knee nudges Chiana's. "Bend these slightly."
She takes Chiana's balled up hands, holds them in place. Aeryn's skin is cool, feels good, helps make some of the dizziness pass. Maybe Crichton was right. This is how you seduce a Peacekeeper.
She risks a glance at Aeryn's face and it's all focused intensity with traces of what could be pleasure. Peacekeepers are all about sex and violence, basic urges and giving orders. Those kinds of motives are something Chiana understands. If Aeryn wants to play this game, so be it.
"Move one foot back," she pushes at Chiana's right foot with her bare toes. "Keep your weight balanced between your feet. You want to be ready to turn, pivot, move forward or back or to the side at a microt's notice." Her hands rest on Chiana's hips, slowly adjusting her stance.
Aeryn steps away and raises her own fists. "When I hit you, try to block."
She's too fast, but Chiana knows what's coming, she curls in, drops her elbow and this time, the punch is shallow. She's only queasy for a microt or two.
"Not bad, but stand up straight and don't hunch. Drop your elbow like that, but more quickly."
The fourth time, it barely hurts at all.
*
It goes on like this for a weeken. She's given chores to do, and when she's exhausted, Aeryn drags her into the bay to fight. One day it's helping Crichton splice cable, the next assisting Zhaan in cataloguing her herbs. The tasks are always boring, and everyone but Aeryn grows tired of her complaints, lets her go halfway through.
But Aeryn and her fists and her cool hands, her warm breath and merciless lessons remain a constant. They go until Chiana's ready to sob, until Aeryn is sweaty and harassed and finished.
Chiana fights back as best she can, with her words and with her own kind of grace and quickness, but it's never enough. Aeryn ignores her taunts. "Makes you feel big and strong to hit someone smaller than you?" Her teasing. "You're just trying to get me on my back." In fact, Aeryn proves adept at ignoring everything except Chiana's body, and there her hands are constantly shifting, touching, stroking, readjusting, pushing until Chiana feels like soft clay that's being molded into something hard, unrecognizable.
She sticks around one evening, watching Crichton spar with Aeryn. The session is quick, practiced. He's hardly a threat to the ex-Peacekeeper, but he holds his own, fights dirty, talking and taunting and smiling at her as she puts him through drills and pacing and combat. They flow back and forth, answering each other with the motion of their bodies and another insight into Peacekeeper sex slides home for Chiana. This is something that's as effortless to them as breathing, this foist and parry, and what she's watching is foreplay, what she's been a part of is foreplay. It's all the same, and these two are acting out their own sort of conversation in the movement of their bodies, in the punches and kicks and blocks, the surprises that come in every session, the anticipation of what can happen next.
Aeryn doesn't pull her punches and Crichton already has a bloody lip when he ducks, feints, gets in an unexpected kick. Chiana is unexpectedly breathless, cheers when Aeryn drops to her knees for a microt, comes back at Crichton with a fast, blurred follow through. When she knocks him onto his back, knees slamming against his biceps, Chiana feels her own body flush. She leaves the room as Crichton's chest heaves, as Aeryn shifts her weight down onto his belly, as they murmur insults and accolades, blocking out everything else in the room. Chiana takes her own pleasure in her fresher, curses Aeryn for the bruises on her eema, wonders why the frell she keeps showing up when they tell her where to go, what to do.
She wonders what it would take to get Aeryn to offer her even a fraction of the kindness she shows to Crichton. She could have hurt him seriously, instead she rendered him ineffective, then smiled at him with pride, pressed her beautiful body close to his, and announced the inevitable victory.
It’s not like Chiana's got anything else to do, and sure, she's still trying to keep enough in everyone's good graces to decide whether or not she wants to stay. She's buying time, making room, but by the final day, sporting a nasty black eye, Chiana's sick of everything and everyone on this cursed ship.
The last sparring lesson ended with Chiana face down on the mat, Aeryn's knee in her back, her arm jacked at an angle that was painful even for her. If this was Aeryn's idea of a proposition, it was getting old. Chiana isn't Crichton, already trapped in that language of violence, attuned to Aeryn's moods and pleasures. She doesn't have to be. D'Argo seems to like her, as does Crichton, at least well enough. And she's starting to like Zhaan and the slug, despite the former's holier than thou attitude and the latter's smell.
She doesn't need Aeryn to like her, and she doesn't need to get her eema stomped into the ground day after day in an attempt to get the bloody Peacekeeper off her back. The sessions leave her bruised and breathless and confused. She's never met a Peacekeeper with the sort of patience that Aeryn is exhibiting. She's never met a soldier of any kind who was willing to wait to take what he or she wanted. The anticipation is killing Chiana.
When D'Argo coms her to help him store the provisions to prepare for a possible ferrying job, she ignores his hail. Instead, she spends the afternoon following Rygel around, learning his latest hiding place which turns out to be just across the hall from Aeryn's quarters.
Chiana fingers the bruise around her eye socket, and decides she isn't quite ready to concede.
Aeryn's lock is easy enough to tease open, and Chiana slips inside, stands there, at a loss. There's nothing here, barely any evidence that anyone lives in the room. The urge to mess things up, to shake the room out of order is irresistible.
She starts with the bedside table, turns out the contents – a chakkan oil cartridge, and a few tiny vials of some unlabeled substance, and a light stick. The upper shelves are no better. Colorless clothing and black socks and underwear. Nothing personal, nothing to take. Disgusted, Chiana puts the clothes back, shoving them up onto the high shelf and leaves the contents of the drawer on the floor where she's dropped them.
***
Rygel passes her in the corridor, his throne sled at maximum speed. He bangs into her shoulder, "Get out of my way, tralk."
She whaps at him as he passes, but he's too far ahead of her and all she brushes against is air. It isn't until he's around the bend that she hears the heavy slap of boots on skin steel, and then there's a hand on the back of her neck, pressing into the back of her skull as she's frog marched into the nearest cell.
She's shoved forward, trips and spins around, but Aeryn's far, far faster than she is. The solider hits her so fast there's no time to block, knocks her to the ground and drops down on top of her. She grabs Chiana's arms, slams them against the floor.
There's no way to fight free, so she falls back on her sills, rolls her hips, bites at her bottom lip, hopes this is just Aeryn's way of saying please.
"Pay attention!" Aeryn knocks her forehead against Chiana's bouncing her skull against the deck. "You need to be reliable on your own, take care of your own safety, and you can't frell your way out of this."
Chi bares her teeth and arches her back at a steep angle, Aeryn's knees lifting off the deck as she rides the buck of her captive's spine. It's now or never. "I was thinking an exchange of skills and services."
"What could you teach me?" Aeryn sneers, boots grinding into Chi's thighs as Chi grinds from below. "Market price?"
"How long has it been since you got good and sweaty from something other than violence? Or is that the only thing that gets you off?"
Aeryn dips her head down, eyes bright and tone cold. "I get off just fine. I'm more concerned right now with making sure you don't get us all killed."
"Sounds like an excuse to me." She tilts up, lips sliding along Aeryn's mouth and then howls as her head slams back into the flooring.
"What the frell was that?" Aeryn's angry now, clearly startled at the tactic and Chi goes cold and still. She's made the wrong call. Aeryn's eyes narrow and she cants down her pelvis, hard. Chi moans at the pain pleasure of the motion.
"Chiana," Aeryn tilts her head, hair tickling Chi's nose, squeezes her wrists for good measure. "What exactly do you think we're doing here?"
She licks her lips, nervous, exhilarated. "Foreplay."
Aeryn drops her wrists, swings her leg over and squats down beside the girl. "Are you frelling kidding me?"
Chi scoots up to sitting, backing away from Aeryn, keeping out of arms reach.
"You kept… waiting for me… touching me. You didn't kill me after I put syrup in the Prowler, and then Crichton… and I thought..."
Aeryn tilts her head, still looking baffled and uncomfortable, face twisted in a grimace.
"I taught you the same way I taught John…." Her voice trails off and she purses her mouth.
"Oh?" Chiana fights back a grin, angles forward.
"Oh. Oh, I, um…"
"A trade's all it is. I don't mind learning to fight, but you're so bossy, think you're always right, think everything has to be your way. I thought maybe a little fighting, a little frelling, I could pay you back for the … lessons. Maybe you'd be nicer to me."
"I wasn't looking for... I'm not… I don't…"
"Have sex? Even Peacekeepers with a frelling shock stick rammed up their eema have sex, Aeryn. And you don't seem to be getting it from anyone else on board."
Aeryn's cheeks flush and she grips the handle of her gun. On microt she's sitting there, disconcerted and a little angry, the next she's flush to Chiana, her knee riding between Chiana's legs, grinding into her sex, hand fisted in her hair.
"This is what you were offering?" Aeryn murmurs, and bites down on her earlobe. "Sex for safety?" She yanks back Chiana's neck, runs her nose along the hollow of her throat, teeth scraping at her neck. It hurts. It feels amazing, and scary, and… terribly unsafe.
Chiana grinds against Aeryn's thigh, tries to get purchase on her shirt and then Aeryn shoves her away, mouth a disgusted moue.
"Or maybe I'm wrong." Chiana wipes her mouth, stares at the other woman.
"Or maybe it's not your concern who I frell or don't frell. But one way or another it certainly wouldn't be… you."
"Why not?" That stings, just a little. What's wrong with her? "I'm good at what I do, and you're not unattractive… a little… aggressive, but that can be fun too, sometimes." She licks her lower lip. "I've been with worse."
"I didn't ask for payment. Certainly not that sort of payment." Aeryn tilts her head, reaching for some sort of understanding. Her eyes are dark, anger flashing in them, and Chiana flicks her eyes to the door, wonders if she's fast enough to get up, get past Aeryn without getting caught.
Aeryn sits back on her heels, rests her hand on her gun. Okay, the odds of escape are bad.
Chiana pulls her knees in tight, stares hard at Aeryn, offers up the only truth she has in this morass of misunderstanding. "No one does anything for free, and you hadn't asked for anything else so I thought…"
"I never asked Crichton for any sort of payment…" She's stuck on the phrase, mouth twisted around it in fury, disgust.
Chiana snorts. "Crichton gets his own kind of reward. Gets to be with you when you get all sweaty and intent, touching him, pressed up against him. He's not as dumb as he looks, Aeryn."
Aeryn flushes again, anger riding her lush mouth, but she doesn't say anything.
"Maybe neither are you." Chiana sighs.
"If I'd wanted to frell you, I'd have let you know. I'm a soldier, Chiana. Not a tralk. I don't sell my skills, don't trade on them. And I don't… you're…"
"Female?"
Aeryn narrows her eyes, looking grim. "Alien."
"But you and Crichton…"
She sets her mouth, draws her boundaries. "That is… not… that is none of your business."
Chiana blinks at that, bites back. "All of you trade yourselves. You trade Moya and Pilot. You sell everything you can find, including yourselves to keep running, to not get caught. You're no different than I am just because you don't use sex for currency. And at least I'm having a good time."
"It's not a trade," Aeryn grits out. "I'm not looking for payment for services rendered."
Chiana doesn't call her on that lie. It's something Aeryn clearly believes. The fear is receding slightly, the anger creeping back in. "So what the frell is it then? Why do you keep trying to teach me to fight, ambushing me in the hall, acting like a drannit on a rampage? I can take care of myself. I didn't ask for your help and I don't need it."
Aeryn pushes herself to standing, shakes her head. "You deliberately sabotaged our lone means of defense to get back at me. You ignored our warnings, got separated from Zhaan and almost got all of us arrested on the planet because you thought that the offer of a good frell would keep that enforcer from hurting you and you were wrong. You don't think of anyone but yourself and that selfishness puts Pilot and Moya in danger, not to mention the rest of us. You can't frell your way out of every situation when your actions affect other people."
Chi sets her jaw, blinks back the angry tears pricking in the corner of her eye at the sanctimoniousness of the speech. "Fine, if I'm so much of a risk, I'll leave at the next planet."
Aeryn shrugs. "I won't object. You know that. I think you're a danger to all of our safety. John thinks differently. I lack his… generosity. The others, well… I suppose it depends upon whether you've stolen from them or inconvenienced them. They may think you've done something to prove your worth. If you have, I've yet to see it."
She's graceful, predatory as she looms over Chiana. "The lessons are over, though. You had your chance. From now on, you are on your own. Both in here, and out there."
She stalks out of the empty cell, leaves Chiana to clutch at her knees and think about trade-offs.
A few microts later, Crichton's voice rings out over her com. "Hey little grey girl, we're makin' some dinner. Gonna have a family meeting tonight. How 'bout you come down here and help out."
She doesn't answer the com, but eventually, she gets up, goes to meet Crichton in the galley.
***
Aeryn takes a sip from her cup, watching the nebula twist and dance in the distance. Sitting propped up against the console in command, she kicks John in the ankle. He's been asleep for half an arn and he's starting to snore.
"Shut up, Crichton." But there's no rancor in it.
He opens up one eye, glances over at her and shuts it again, props his hands behind his head.
"Not such a bad day," he says, yawning widely. "Gonna have a baby, survived multi-dimensional beings and lotsa puking. Learned a bunch of dirty jokes from his Frogness."
"Mmm," she agrees. "Not a terrible day."
He extricates one of his hands, pokes her in the thigh. She grabs his fingers, squeezes hard. "Damn, you're mean," he chuckles. She relaxes her hold and he doesn't pull his hand away, taps his fingers against her thigh.
"Did you really pretend to be stupid when you were learning to fight so that I'd touch you?"
Both of his eyes fly open. "What? No. No, I really am that stupid. Really."
She snorts, takes a gulp of her tea.
"I told Chiana that I wouldn't give her any more lessons."
He let that sink in. "So no more take downs in the hallway either?"
She shrugs, shakes her head. "I can't control what she does or doesn't do. Or why. But if she puts Moya or Pilot in danger, John, I will space her."
"She did okay today," he says softly, and rolls to sitting. "She's just looking for some place to be. Same as all of us."
Aeryn looks at him out of the corner of her eye. "That remains to be seen."
He touches her knee. "She's a kid, Aeryn, trying to figure out who she is. She's not gonna betray us."
She looks at him, finishes her tea. "She thought I was looking for sex as a trade for learning to fight."
John gulps, drops his head into his hands. "I wonder how she could have gotten that kind of idea."
Aeryn's mouth twitches. "I can't imagine."
He looks up at her, a grin playing on his lips, "So, you take her up on her offer?"
Aeryn flattens her mouth, raises an eyebrow, and doesn't say a word.
He gulps heavily, nodding. "I think I'm gonna need some alone time now."
She rolls her eyes, shoves at his forehead which goes lolling , and he smiles at her, rich and wide and warm. "Thanks for not killing her, Aeryn."
"Let's just hope I made the right choice," she says, with a sigh, turns back to the nebula in the view screen.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 07:45 pm (UTC)And I'm so glad you liked this:) I think it turned out really well as a story, if not so much as a Remix.
I've gotta go send feedback on all the other marvelous stories!!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 08:06 pm (UTC)I imagine I would have guessed this was you, but I hadn't gotten to it yet on the archive. Since this is my first year reading Farscape remix stories, I got all distracted by the fics from previous years that I haven't had a chance to go through the new ones yet. Such a wealth of good stuff!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 10:24 pm (UTC)I've just finished watching season one, and this story captures the dynamics of the crew so very well. I love the look at Chiana's motivations and reactions, and the reminder that she really is just a kid, trying to find her way in the universe.
I so love the Aeryn/John dance, and your story does it justice.
I enjoyed this very much.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 10:54 pm (UTC)ps. and i love this, so true: ""What rules?" D'Argo snorts. "On our best days we live in controlled chaos.""
no subject
Date: 2006-09-18 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-18 06:06 am (UTC)