Chapter 15
Aug. 6th, 2003 03:07 pmChapter 15
John Crichton, astronaut, scientist, and All American boy had always had a thing for cars. He missed his Mustang, missed his truck Betty, hell, he even missed the beat up station wagon his mom used to haul them around in as kids. Aside from his Bird records, though, he’d found that he didn’t register a lot of longing for his other Terran material possessions. Oh, there’d been moments when he’d have given his left nut for a pair of Levi’s but all things considered, he was fairly content with the goodies of the Uncharted Territories. But today, he really, really missed his cars.
Bouncing over the rocky, shell ravaged roads in the shock free land vehicle, he composed love poems to his smooth suspensioned honeys and promised never again to call them bad names when they broke down. The bumps and thumps and jostling of the ride shot agony through his muscles, not aided by Aeryn’s silence, and by the time they arrived at the palace, John wanted to cry or at least throw something breakable. Between this morning’s breath taking bath and the car ride from hell, his insides and outsides were twisted and pummeled and he couldn’t tell right from left, or up from down.
Aeryn took him directly to the medical area, pushed him down on a table and disappeared, only to return 100 microts later trailed by the doc and Councilor Tyno. While she and Tyno quietly conferred in the corner, the doc shot him full of anesthetic, analgesics, antibiotics and something that made him feel light and bouncy and removed from his body. His old pal Scorpy made a cameo appearance over the doc’s right shoulder, but John just waved and stuck out his tongue, resisting the urge to grab it and wiggle it around to make sure it was still attached.
“John,” Aeryn’s voice was smooth as melted chocolate, and he smiled at her, trying to find the Crichton grin underneath the painkillers. “John,” she repeated, reaching up and tilting his face towards her so he could look in her eyes, her coolness soothing him.
“Hey baby,” he whispered, “Wanna play doctor?”
She ignored him, which he didn’t take as a bad sign, necessarily, and said, “The physician needs to do a more thorough exam and I need to check in with D’Argo and the others.”
He nodded because that sounded right, sounded normal.
“I’ll be gone for awhile, but I’ll be back to check on you.”
He nodded again, turning his cheek to rest in her palm. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone in a small caress and then she was gone.
The doctor bandaged him up, cleaned his cuts, and checked his pupils for concussion. When he was finished, he laid his examination light down on the table next to John and looked at his hands. “Dude has something to say,” John thought and floated happily in his haze, waiting for the doc to speak up.
When he got tired of waiting, he gave the physician a little nudge. “What’s up, doc?” he asked, unable to stifle the giggle that followed his words.
The physician kneaded his hands together, and then looked John in the eye, swallowing nervously. “I tried to discuss this with the Empress this morning, your highness, but she’s unwilling to listen to me. “
John shrugged, but said, “Ok, shoot.”
“Your highness, the princess, well, the child is growing steadily and someone must make a decision soon before it is out of our hands. I know you’re aware of this, but if we wait too long, there will be no choice, and you are the consort. This is your child, and I’m begging you to make a decision so that we may offer one of them better care.”
The doctor looked devastated by his words and John felt all of the air whoosh out of his lungs. “I’ve known Katralla since she was a child,” the doctor said softly, “and I want to do what’s best for her. This is, unacceptable. She wouldn’t want us waffling about, doing nothing productive for either of them. “
John tried to nod, trapped by this reminder of his duty - his child, his wife, his decision. He hadn’t put it out of his mind, exactly, but he had been avoiding it in the wake of the rebels, the struggles with the Empress, rebuilding the city, and time with Anix, and D’Argo, and Aeryn. This was real, not some Scorpified fantasy or Scarran nightmare. He had to choose between his wife and his child before they both suffered more repercussions.
The pleasant haze of the drugs had been replaced by the cold weight of this situation. He tried frantically to call back the morning’s sensations –pale light, Aeryn’s cool hands on his skin - desperate for a sense of peace in the midst of these agonizing responsibilities, and then felt sick with guilt. But he had to give the physician an answer.
“There’s really nothing you can do?” he choked out.
The doctor shook his head. “Too much of our equipment has been destroyed, and frankly we’ve never encountered a situation like this,” he paused. “The wars also make getting information from other sources and cultures very, very difficult.”
John took a deep breath, accepting the responsibility of all of this once and for all. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long. I just don’t know what to do.”
“I understand that your highness, but,” John interrupted him. “I’ll give you an answer tomorrow,” he said.
“Thank you.” The doctor packed up his things and left John lost in thought, oblivious to the passage of time.
When Aeryn returned, he was still sitting there, unaware that she had entered the room until she said his name, and he snapped back into reality with that crystalline focus that she often brought him. Clarity and distraction, she was both sides of the spectrum for him, sometimes simultaneously. When she was near it was like everything existed on the other side of clear, magnified glass but then the edges blurred as he focused until all he finally saw was her. She touched his knee, and cocked her head, silently asking if he was all right.
At that moment, he’d have given everything he had, everything he’d ever had, would ever have, to wrap around her, bury himself inside her, cling to her forever, drinking in her strength and fire and grace. So he didn’t think, didn’t revel in the sensation of being near her but instead, turned his head, lightening fast and pressed his lips to hers fiercely, wrapping his hands around her head, clawing at her skull and trying to fuse with her. Tongues danced and slid, mouths played wet and warm, teeth clinked, there was a pained moan and the taste of blood and light and airless stars and God he could fuse into her, never breathe again, never leave this pulse pounding ecstasy, and then she shoved him away, and reality returned.
There was blood on her lip, made him think of Snow White and the wicked queen, and he reached up to brush it away, but she pushed his hand down, held it to his thigh. The blood and her heaving chest the only proof that they'd just kissed.
“Teyvn is interrogating the Scarran. Do you want to hear what he was to say?” she asked.
He laughed, short and bitter, but said, ”Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”
***
Watching the big commando jab the Scarran with the pointy stick wasn’t doing much for John’s contact with reality. His stomach roiled, but the myriad drugs in his system kept him removed from the actual physicality of his body. Aeryn stood by her daughter, a tight grip on her upper arm, an impassive expression on her face as Teyvn continued to administer short bursts of neural stimulus between questions. Anix had flown at him when they’d descended the stairs, embracing him fiercely, although he suspected that some of the spontaneous affection had more to do with avoiding the wrath of Teyvn and her mother than pure joy at his survival. But there was some joy there and he was equally glad to see her healthy, whole and bound for trouble.
The interrogation wasn’t going to well, and finally Teyvn turned to Aeryn, who was standing in the shadows, “This is hopeless. His circuits are so fried he probably doesn’t know his own name.” She nodded.
“Kill him,” she ordered. “End this suffering. We’ll get the data from his ship.”
That must have triggered something in the Scarran though, because he opened his eyes widely, using all of his remaining strength to focus on Aeryn and John.
“John Crichton,” he whispered. “We know who you are,” blood and saliva slid down his muzzle and his eyes began to glaze over. “You will pay for what you did.” He closed his eyes, slumped into his chains.
John looked at Aeryn, who shook her head. She gave a signal to Teyvn and then frog-marched her daughter towards the stairs as John trailed along behind. There was a brief scream, and then silence. When they reached the top of the stairs, Aeryn let go of Anix and rubbed her temples.
“We’ll wait for Teyvn and D’Argo,” she said, still not looking at John, “And then I’ll explain.”
As it turned out, he had time to shower and change and get another shot from the doc before they were all able to assemble in the common room. Aeryn’s skin was ashy grey, her eyes dark, and he wanted to hold her hand, pull her to him, but instead, he sat across from her, watching her pull herself into dispassionate Peacekeeper mode. Teyvn and D’Argo flanked her, both looking very much worse for wear, and Anix sat by John. Her mother just hadn’t had the energy to refuse her presence as much as she clearly wanted to order her to her room.
Aeryn took a long pull from a bottle of fellip nectar, removed her com, placing it in front of her, and licked her lips. She glanced at D’Argo who nodded reassurance, and began to speak, her voice soft and scratched, like an old record. “Anix was barely a year old when Moya was sucked into a wormhole,” she began, “Although, as it turned out, it wasn’t really a wormhole. Merely a construction by the ancient you called Jack.” She looked John in the eye and he felt his mouth tighten, but stayed silent. “He was looking for you, and found us instead.”
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Date: 2003-08-06 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-12 06:28 pm (UTC)Anyway, I'm glad you haven't given up on me and are still reading!
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Date: 2003-08-06 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-12 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-12 06:28 pm (UTC)Get writing! ;)
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Date: 2003-08-12 06:50 pm (UTC)