Blue Eyes - Chapter 30 A
Jan. 5th, 2004 05:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowOkay, this is for all of you who've suffered through the series of cliffhangers. Not much gets resolved here, but one question does get answered.
Chapter 30A
Her daughter’s skin smelled like sun and rain, like soap and clean, honest sweat. She was afraid to let go of Anix, afraid to lose the scent and feel of the young body in her straining arms.
She didn’t have any words for this moment, and they’d never been her strength anyway. All she had was the last of her energy and hope to pour into her child. She was equally afraid that if she let go of Anix, she’d sink down onto the cold ground of the hangar and not get up again. Her decision was taken out of her hands as a hearty slap on the back caused her knees to buckle, and the blood rushed out of her head as she slumped down, D’Argo and Anix shouting her name.
Hands caught her, supporting her weight until the stars and dots and blackness faded back and the pale, worried face of her daughter swam into prominence in front of her. Anix looked so scared that she reached out to her again, just her hand on her girl’s cheek and relief swept through them both.
“You’re all right,” Anix whispered, and Aeryn summoned up a smile for her daughter.
“I’m going to be fine.” It didn’t even feel like a lie.
D’Argo squeezed her arm reassuringly, holding her to him, holding her up, helping to propagate the illusion of strength to Anix.
His voice was neutral when he said, “The Prowler. It’s not one of ours.” Aeryn wanted to laugh at that. Neither was the one she’d almost died in. A peacekeeper dying alone in a battered prowler. There was nothing unusual or mythic about that. And yet, it wasn't the worst death she could have imagined, hadn't been the worst death she'd faced as it turned out.
D’Argo didn’t ask how or why when she’d stumbled out of the cockpit, merely uttered a wordless cry, and caught her as she slid down the stairs, her body one massive bruise, her head aching like an entire triumphal procession was marching through it. She’d barely been able to maneuver the Prowler along the coordinates and had been grateful for the sophistication of the machine, the way it cradled and cared for her, delivering her back to the ground. She’d always been able to lay her trust in flight, and this had proved to be no exception.
“Should we be expecting company?” D’Argo asked.
“No.” She started to shake her head, but it hurt too much. “The Peacekeepers should be leaving soon.”
D’Argo didn’t say anything, but she could feel his concern and curiosity. “We’re safe for now,” was all she had the energy to say and he accepted that, her word as a soldier and a Captain and a mother.
D’Argo gave her a few more microts to catch her breath and her balance, and then said gently, “ I think there are some people you need to see,” and she nodded her head, stomach tightening in anticipation and not a little fear.
They were bickering half-heartedly over the makeshift mat, the room lit by candles, making everything seem oddly proportioned. Teyvn loomed over John, but was moving slowly and awkwardly. John was loose limbed, a little arrogant in the tight shirt and loose pants, his feet bare. Even injured and in pain, Teyvn could probably still do him serious damage. But John bounced a little on his toes, skirting the danger and encouraging it at the same time as he bobbed, wove his agile body to the side and ducked a quick, unexpected punch from the bigger man, who growled at him. John laughed and danced back, out of reach.
“What in hezmana did you take?” Teyvn grumbled at the human.
“Doc gave me some of the superdrugs,” he said. “Too bad they don’t work like this for Sebaceans. You could flatten me like a pancake and I’d probably just giggle. ”
Teyvn cocked his head as if considering doing just that, and John took a more vigorous step back. “Dude, I only took half the dosage. I’m not that stupid.”
Teyvn snorted, and John smirked, and the next thing he knew the ex-PK had closed the distance between them, sending him to the floor with a well placed if not particularly vicious kick.
“You bastard,” John wheezed looking up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He rolled to his side, pulling up his legs and glanced towards the doorway as he pushed himself to his knees. He had to have seen her but his body kept moving until he was sitting on his heels and then he froze. Teyvn was watching the other man and at John’s stillness he looked over, catching sight of her.
His cry of joy made tears burn in her throat, but she just smiled at her lieutenant, equally glad to see him in one piece. Teyvn didn’t stop to think, just strode across the room as quickly as his battered body would allow him and grabbed her, lifting her off of the floor, grinding her bones together as he spun her around. It hurt like frell, churned her stomach, rattled her aching head and she couldn’t have told him to put her down even if she’d wanted to, but he finally did, stilled in his enthusiasm by an uncontained moan of pain escaping her.
“Oh, hezmana, are you all right?”
She was out of breath, but nodded and then turned to John, who was still resting on his heels, face drained of color.
“You’re dead,” he whispered, eyes narrowing in hurt, anger.
She shook her head. “No.”
But he nodded. “ I heard you die!” He insisted through tightened lips. “You said goodbye! You shut off the com. You died!” The word would have been a wail, a plea if it had been any louder and it sliced through her, short circuiting the physical pain.
She shook her head again, feeling the stinging salt in her eyes. “I’m not dead, John.”
“How?” he whispered, aggressive and still disbelieving, still rooted in place.
She swallowed back the tears. “Luck,” she said softly. “Fate.” She pursed her mouth, trying to find a smile for him. “I don’t know how, or why, but…” She took a step towards him, and her body betrayed her.
She stumbled again and Teyvn caught her arm. The motion shook John out of his trance though, and he was on his feet, crossing the room, until he was close enough to feel her breath on his face. He reached out, not to hold onto her, but tentatively, sliding his fingers over the hair at her temple, over her cheekbone and the glaring bruise that ran from hairline to jaw, brutal evidence of her head impacting with the side of the Prowler cockpit. He curled his hand, knuckles brushing her cheek as Teyvn held her up, and finally his hand wrapped warmly around her neck, fingers laced through her hair, thumb sliding delicately over her split bottom lip. She couldn’t stand it any longer then, reaching for him in silence as Teyvn released her and she slid bonelessly into Crichton’s arms.
He held onto her silently, bodies pressed together, holding each other up, until he started to shake and they both slid to their knees, still holding on. She dug her nails into his shoulders, face buried in his neck, drinking in his smell, the texture of his skin, the strength of his body. She felt tears on her cheek, could hear him whispering her name over and over again, a mantra and she closed her eyes, wishing she could have spared all of them these days of grief and worry. And then just as suddenly, he sat back, holding her at arms length, as he scrubbed at his face. He set his jaw, steeling himself, and it felt like the gesture was meant to ward her off, push her back.
“Seen D’Argo? Anix?”
She nodded, a little off balance.
“ You need to rest, I’m betting. And we,” he waved half-heartedly to Teyvn, “need to talk to D’ and to Katralla. Everyday is somethin’ new that’s falling apart around our ears.”
“I need to know what’s happening,” she said, feeling authority creep back into her tone, falling back on her role as Captain as John backed further away from her.
“Well, unless we get bombed yet again, I’m bettin’ that it can wait ‘til morning,” he said and he touched her face again, his presence flooding back between them, the distance breached once again. “You look like you’re about to come apart at the seams.”
She chuckled a little at that, knowing he wasn’t wrong, knowing that she needed rest and medical attention.
“All right,” she said. “First thing tomorrow, we all need to talk.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes filling up with something indescribable. “First thing.”
He got up then, helping her to her feet.
“Where’s Anix?” he asked suddenly, a touch of panic in his voice. “Thought she’d be glued to you.”
“Finding something to eat,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “finding the diagnosan.” She felt adrift, lost in whatever tides were swirling around her, but she didn’t have the energy or focus to fight them off. This, however, was not the reunion she’d been expecting.
“Yeah, okay,” he said softly and then looked up at Teyvn. “Aren’t you about due for your nightly once over?”
The Sebacean glared at him, but wrapped his arm around Aeryn and led her off, leaving John behind looking forlorn and solemn, watching them go.
The medication made her sleep, and her dreams rose up behind her eyes, the Prowler being knocked out of the reach of that gaping tear in the fabric of space, opening her eyes to see Scorpius malicious glare, watching it fade into an uncomfortable empathy. Wormholes, and the death of the pilots, screaming as their ships were ripped apart, the silence that accompanied her walk to a working Prowler, the click as the cockpit closed, as she left the Peacekeepers behind her, unexpected freedom, unexplained life and the dangling, idling threat of new weapons and new reasons to fear. She finally woke up, dizzy and disoriented to find herself in the small bed in the quarters she’d shared with Anix on the Royal Planet.
She rolled to her side and wanted to cry out from the pain, rage against it, but truthfully, it was better than it had been. Sleep had leached the used sandpaper feeling from her skin and started the healing process, along with the physician’s crèmes and drugs. And closing her eyes, seeing her daughter resting in the bed not two paces away had done a lot to ease her mind as she'd drifted off.
Right now though, she’d trade a limb for a hot shower. But she knew that was an impossibility. There wasn’t enough power to heat the water, and she’d have to make do with just sponging off the dirt and grime and sweat. As she slowly sat up, fighting against the stretch and pull and ache of her body, she noticed that someone had set out a basin of water and some cloths and she closed her eyes in gratitude, willing her reluctant body to get up and use the water. She had no sense of time, and the darkness of the room didn’t do much to help her. She eventually decided it didn’t matter, and stiffly pushed herself off the bed.
She’d tumbled into bed wearing her underclothes, and as she slowly made her way over to the small table where the basin of water rested, she considered stripping them off, but the chill in the air changed her mind. A few lamps were burning, and she lit the others nearest to her, sending shadows across the room. She dipped the cloth into the water, and had to bite back a moan as she ran the cloth over her face, removing the the dirt, the salt stain of tears, the sweat and scent of fear and containment.
She dipped the cloth in the water again and reached back to run it under her hair, over her neck and shoulders. She did allow herself to moan then, her muscles shaking and straining, the coolness of the water causing a shiver to run down her spine, and then a voice in her ear, soft and close, the warmth of another body suffused her. She must have been overly distracted to not hear him come in, a good way to get herself killed, or maybe she’d just been waiting for the inevitable.
“Let me,” he said, and it was a request, a plea. She didn’t turn around, just let him take the cloth from her fingers.
He set a mug of something down on the table in front of her, steam curling off the top and said in low voice,” Thought you might need that.”
He reached around her, bare arm brushing hers, making her shiver, and dampened the cloth again.
“Painkillers?” she asked.
“Mm hmm.” He agreed, lifting her heavy hair off of her neck and gently stroking the cloth over the exposed skin, sweeping movements. She picked up the drink, sipped it, letting the warmth fill her. He drew the cloth down her other arm, then stroked back up, and slipped the strap of the tank off her shoulder, drawing the cool, wet cloth along the line of her neck and down over her collarbone. She could feel her cheeks pinken as she continued to sip the drink, continued to let his ministrations slide over her body.
“You did this for me not too long ago,” he said, breath hot and damp in her ear as he pressed himself close to her. He dipped the cloth in the water again, and slowly drew her shirt up to just under her breasts, exposing her stomach and drawing slow circles over it. She closed her eyes, leaned against him just a little so that his body could warm her back, and then moaned as the rough, damp cloth slid over her breasts, her nipples hardening, her sex tightening despite the aches and pains.
Something had changed in John yet again, and she needed to know what was going on, but right now the water, his strong hands, his warm, solid body were driving away the pain and she soaked in this temporary pleasure as the painkillers did their work.
“Can you lift up your arms?” he asked and she held them up, letting him slide the shirt over her head, her palms coming to rest behind her in the softness of his hair. He held her tightly, her hair wrapping around his arms, sliding over her breasts, the water and the cloth forgotten.
Chapter 30A
Her daughter’s skin smelled like sun and rain, like soap and clean, honest sweat. She was afraid to let go of Anix, afraid to lose the scent and feel of the young body in her straining arms.
She didn’t have any words for this moment, and they’d never been her strength anyway. All she had was the last of her energy and hope to pour into her child. She was equally afraid that if she let go of Anix, she’d sink down onto the cold ground of the hangar and not get up again. Her decision was taken out of her hands as a hearty slap on the back caused her knees to buckle, and the blood rushed out of her head as she slumped down, D’Argo and Anix shouting her name.
Hands caught her, supporting her weight until the stars and dots and blackness faded back and the pale, worried face of her daughter swam into prominence in front of her. Anix looked so scared that she reached out to her again, just her hand on her girl’s cheek and relief swept through them both.
“You’re all right,” Anix whispered, and Aeryn summoned up a smile for her daughter.
“I’m going to be fine.” It didn’t even feel like a lie.
D’Argo squeezed her arm reassuringly, holding her to him, holding her up, helping to propagate the illusion of strength to Anix.
His voice was neutral when he said, “The Prowler. It’s not one of ours.” Aeryn wanted to laugh at that. Neither was the one she’d almost died in. A peacekeeper dying alone in a battered prowler. There was nothing unusual or mythic about that. And yet, it wasn't the worst death she could have imagined, hadn't been the worst death she'd faced as it turned out.
D’Argo didn’t ask how or why when she’d stumbled out of the cockpit, merely uttered a wordless cry, and caught her as she slid down the stairs, her body one massive bruise, her head aching like an entire triumphal procession was marching through it. She’d barely been able to maneuver the Prowler along the coordinates and had been grateful for the sophistication of the machine, the way it cradled and cared for her, delivering her back to the ground. She’d always been able to lay her trust in flight, and this had proved to be no exception.
“Should we be expecting company?” D’Argo asked.
“No.” She started to shake her head, but it hurt too much. “The Peacekeepers should be leaving soon.”
D’Argo didn’t say anything, but she could feel his concern and curiosity. “We’re safe for now,” was all she had the energy to say and he accepted that, her word as a soldier and a Captain and a mother.
D’Argo gave her a few more microts to catch her breath and her balance, and then said gently, “ I think there are some people you need to see,” and she nodded her head, stomach tightening in anticipation and not a little fear.
They were bickering half-heartedly over the makeshift mat, the room lit by candles, making everything seem oddly proportioned. Teyvn loomed over John, but was moving slowly and awkwardly. John was loose limbed, a little arrogant in the tight shirt and loose pants, his feet bare. Even injured and in pain, Teyvn could probably still do him serious damage. But John bounced a little on his toes, skirting the danger and encouraging it at the same time as he bobbed, wove his agile body to the side and ducked a quick, unexpected punch from the bigger man, who growled at him. John laughed and danced back, out of reach.
“What in hezmana did you take?” Teyvn grumbled at the human.
“Doc gave me some of the superdrugs,” he said. “Too bad they don’t work like this for Sebaceans. You could flatten me like a pancake and I’d probably just giggle. ”
Teyvn cocked his head as if considering doing just that, and John took a more vigorous step back. “Dude, I only took half the dosage. I’m not that stupid.”
Teyvn snorted, and John smirked, and the next thing he knew the ex-PK had closed the distance between them, sending him to the floor with a well placed if not particularly vicious kick.
“You bastard,” John wheezed looking up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He rolled to his side, pulling up his legs and glanced towards the doorway as he pushed himself to his knees. He had to have seen her but his body kept moving until he was sitting on his heels and then he froze. Teyvn was watching the other man and at John’s stillness he looked over, catching sight of her.
His cry of joy made tears burn in her throat, but she just smiled at her lieutenant, equally glad to see him in one piece. Teyvn didn’t stop to think, just strode across the room as quickly as his battered body would allow him and grabbed her, lifting her off of the floor, grinding her bones together as he spun her around. It hurt like frell, churned her stomach, rattled her aching head and she couldn’t have told him to put her down even if she’d wanted to, but he finally did, stilled in his enthusiasm by an uncontained moan of pain escaping her.
“Oh, hezmana, are you all right?”
She was out of breath, but nodded and then turned to John, who was still resting on his heels, face drained of color.
“You’re dead,” he whispered, eyes narrowing in hurt, anger.
She shook her head. “No.”
But he nodded. “ I heard you die!” He insisted through tightened lips. “You said goodbye! You shut off the com. You died!” The word would have been a wail, a plea if it had been any louder and it sliced through her, short circuiting the physical pain.
She shook her head again, feeling the stinging salt in her eyes. “I’m not dead, John.”
“How?” he whispered, aggressive and still disbelieving, still rooted in place.
She swallowed back the tears. “Luck,” she said softly. “Fate.” She pursed her mouth, trying to find a smile for him. “I don’t know how, or why, but…” She took a step towards him, and her body betrayed her.
She stumbled again and Teyvn caught her arm. The motion shook John out of his trance though, and he was on his feet, crossing the room, until he was close enough to feel her breath on his face. He reached out, not to hold onto her, but tentatively, sliding his fingers over the hair at her temple, over her cheekbone and the glaring bruise that ran from hairline to jaw, brutal evidence of her head impacting with the side of the Prowler cockpit. He curled his hand, knuckles brushing her cheek as Teyvn held her up, and finally his hand wrapped warmly around her neck, fingers laced through her hair, thumb sliding delicately over her split bottom lip. She couldn’t stand it any longer then, reaching for him in silence as Teyvn released her and she slid bonelessly into Crichton’s arms.
He held onto her silently, bodies pressed together, holding each other up, until he started to shake and they both slid to their knees, still holding on. She dug her nails into his shoulders, face buried in his neck, drinking in his smell, the texture of his skin, the strength of his body. She felt tears on her cheek, could hear him whispering her name over and over again, a mantra and she closed her eyes, wishing she could have spared all of them these days of grief and worry. And then just as suddenly, he sat back, holding her at arms length, as he scrubbed at his face. He set his jaw, steeling himself, and it felt like the gesture was meant to ward her off, push her back.
“Seen D’Argo? Anix?”
She nodded, a little off balance.
“ You need to rest, I’m betting. And we,” he waved half-heartedly to Teyvn, “need to talk to D’ and to Katralla. Everyday is somethin’ new that’s falling apart around our ears.”
“I need to know what’s happening,” she said, feeling authority creep back into her tone, falling back on her role as Captain as John backed further away from her.
“Well, unless we get bombed yet again, I’m bettin’ that it can wait ‘til morning,” he said and he touched her face again, his presence flooding back between them, the distance breached once again. “You look like you’re about to come apart at the seams.”
She chuckled a little at that, knowing he wasn’t wrong, knowing that she needed rest and medical attention.
“All right,” she said. “First thing tomorrow, we all need to talk.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes filling up with something indescribable. “First thing.”
He got up then, helping her to her feet.
“Where’s Anix?” he asked suddenly, a touch of panic in his voice. “Thought she’d be glued to you.”
“Finding something to eat,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “finding the diagnosan.” She felt adrift, lost in whatever tides were swirling around her, but she didn’t have the energy or focus to fight them off. This, however, was not the reunion she’d been expecting.
“Yeah, okay,” he said softly and then looked up at Teyvn. “Aren’t you about due for your nightly once over?”
The Sebacean glared at him, but wrapped his arm around Aeryn and led her off, leaving John behind looking forlorn and solemn, watching them go.
The medication made her sleep, and her dreams rose up behind her eyes, the Prowler being knocked out of the reach of that gaping tear in the fabric of space, opening her eyes to see Scorpius malicious glare, watching it fade into an uncomfortable empathy. Wormholes, and the death of the pilots, screaming as their ships were ripped apart, the silence that accompanied her walk to a working Prowler, the click as the cockpit closed, as she left the Peacekeepers behind her, unexpected freedom, unexplained life and the dangling, idling threat of new weapons and new reasons to fear. She finally woke up, dizzy and disoriented to find herself in the small bed in the quarters she’d shared with Anix on the Royal Planet.
She rolled to her side and wanted to cry out from the pain, rage against it, but truthfully, it was better than it had been. Sleep had leached the used sandpaper feeling from her skin and started the healing process, along with the physician’s crèmes and drugs. And closing her eyes, seeing her daughter resting in the bed not two paces away had done a lot to ease her mind as she'd drifted off.
Right now though, she’d trade a limb for a hot shower. But she knew that was an impossibility. There wasn’t enough power to heat the water, and she’d have to make do with just sponging off the dirt and grime and sweat. As she slowly sat up, fighting against the stretch and pull and ache of her body, she noticed that someone had set out a basin of water and some cloths and she closed her eyes in gratitude, willing her reluctant body to get up and use the water. She had no sense of time, and the darkness of the room didn’t do much to help her. She eventually decided it didn’t matter, and stiffly pushed herself off the bed.
She’d tumbled into bed wearing her underclothes, and as she slowly made her way over to the small table where the basin of water rested, she considered stripping them off, but the chill in the air changed her mind. A few lamps were burning, and she lit the others nearest to her, sending shadows across the room. She dipped the cloth into the water, and had to bite back a moan as she ran the cloth over her face, removing the the dirt, the salt stain of tears, the sweat and scent of fear and containment.
She dipped the cloth in the water again and reached back to run it under her hair, over her neck and shoulders. She did allow herself to moan then, her muscles shaking and straining, the coolness of the water causing a shiver to run down her spine, and then a voice in her ear, soft and close, the warmth of another body suffused her. She must have been overly distracted to not hear him come in, a good way to get herself killed, or maybe she’d just been waiting for the inevitable.
“Let me,” he said, and it was a request, a plea. She didn’t turn around, just let him take the cloth from her fingers.
He set a mug of something down on the table in front of her, steam curling off the top and said in low voice,” Thought you might need that.”
He reached around her, bare arm brushing hers, making her shiver, and dampened the cloth again.
“Painkillers?” she asked.
“Mm hmm.” He agreed, lifting her heavy hair off of her neck and gently stroking the cloth over the exposed skin, sweeping movements. She picked up the drink, sipped it, letting the warmth fill her. He drew the cloth down her other arm, then stroked back up, and slipped the strap of the tank off her shoulder, drawing the cool, wet cloth along the line of her neck and down over her collarbone. She could feel her cheeks pinken as she continued to sip the drink, continued to let his ministrations slide over her body.
“You did this for me not too long ago,” he said, breath hot and damp in her ear as he pressed himself close to her. He dipped the cloth in the water again, and slowly drew her shirt up to just under her breasts, exposing her stomach and drawing slow circles over it. She closed her eyes, leaned against him just a little so that his body could warm her back, and then moaned as the rough, damp cloth slid over her breasts, her nipples hardening, her sex tightening despite the aches and pains.
Something had changed in John yet again, and she needed to know what was going on, but right now the water, his strong hands, his warm, solid body were driving away the pain and she soaked in this temporary pleasure as the painkillers did their work.
“Can you lift up your arms?” he asked and she held them up, letting him slide the shirt over her head, her palms coming to rest behind her in the softness of his hair. He held her tightly, her hair wrapping around his arms, sliding over her breasts, the water and the cloth forgotten.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 05:48 pm (UTC)I like the way you handled this transition, just immediately resolving it by switching to Aeryn's head right after reunion, and focusing on the emotional fallout of that reunion instead of prolonging the tease. Deftly worked.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 06:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 06:56 pm (UTC)Now that I have had the latest ride on the rollercoaster, I've stowed the kleenex and brought out the popcorn. This is just great stuff! And I've only been following it for what, five or six bits?
Kernezelda's comment has me fretting, though... still, Aeryn's not dead. Yay!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:33 am (UTC)I'm so glad you've enjoyed it. And as for Kerne's speculation. Well, hmmm. Aeryn's not dead. That's gonna have to do for now:)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 08:36 pm (UTC)You still da'man, Thea. Hee.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 09:49 pm (UTC)Excellent...just excellent.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:10 am (UTC)This is the first WIP I've ever followed and I've really enjoyed it. I know you plan on chopping some but it's been fun seeing what goes on in your head while you write.
Maury
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 10:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 05:36 pm (UTC)You & Kerne have me nervous now, though ...
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:40 am (UTC)So glad you liked it though:)