Blue Eyes - Chapter 30B
Jan. 6th, 2004 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowSo the last post was barely half a chapter, and this is just as short. Too much exposition at the end, but I'm just such a sap sometimes and wasted my words earlier in the snippet. Thing is, I think if I don't post something everyday, no matter how minute, I won't be able to bring myself to finish it. And I have no more time to write today, so I'm gonna post what I have.
Chapter 30B
He knelt at her feet, cheek pressed against the sharp bone of her hip, hand wrapped around her waist, eyes closed. Her hands were gentle, stroking his hair, small touches, fingertips light on his cheekbone, the brush of her thumb over his eyebrow. The room was so quiet, the only noises the soft scritch of skin against skin, the swaying of bodies. Not sex, not rough, aching lust, just quiet, just skin and bone and the touch of hands and lips.
He could have stayed there infinitely, in supplication, time suspended around them, but she finally said, her voice low and thick,“ I should get dressed.”
He turned his head, lips caressing the bruises on her hip, rising up from under the band of her black briefs. He touched the healing place under her ribs where the pulse blast had ripped through skin and muscle - the one thing the PK's had bothered to fix properly. He traced the broken bone, the bruises on her torso shaped like fists, the heavy mottled lines on the top of her thighs where the straps from the Aurora chair had held her down, the bands across her forearms from the same restraints.
He wanted to weep over the damage to her body, let his tears wash them both clean, but that was silly, pointless and unnecessarily melodramatic. He wanted to tear into the Peacekeepers with their senseless violence, wanted to tear into his own skin, rage against his weakness.
He also wanted to pull her down onto his lap, hold onto her for the rest of his life and that seemed far more practical, so he pushed down slightly on her hip, laced his fingers with hers and tugged and she sank down to her knees with a wince and a hiss.
“Painkillers not kicking in?” She smiled a little, bitter and smoky, as she settled onto his lap, her bare breasts swaying. He held her, arm around her, palm resting on her long, smooth back and he let himself trace the contour of her breast with his fingertips.
She half closed her eyes. “They’re working,” she murmured. “But they can’t do much. My system’s too frelled from the stims. Everything is just going to hurt for awhile.”
“Everything?” he whispered, almost surprised that he was thinking about sex, here, in the face of all of this, even with his arms full of Aeryn, but the evidence was definitely pointing in that direction.
She encircled his neck and he nuzzled along the line of her tricep, the rope of muscle taut underneath the rich skin.
“Everything,” she said quietly, no hint of teasing in her voice. She palmed his cheek, her eyes dark pools of want and need and not a little pain, and she leaned towards him, cool mouth meeting his, sliding against his lips, tongues slowly speaking quiet verses to each other as they moved together in a gentle rhythm.
When she withdrew, her breath still warm on his lips, her forehead touching his, eyes a little unfocused, he held her face in his hands, her cheekbones cutting sharp.
“ I love you,” he said, simplest thing in the universe, this truth. And it didn’t change a damned thing. Hurt like a mother instead.
“I love you too,” she said, lashes shadowing her eyes so he couldn’t read them, found he didn’t need to with the desperation in her whisper, the words beautiful as they brushed over his mouth.
“We’ve got a weeken, probably less,” he said, lips moving over her mouth, her jaw, sliding down the sweet, fine line of her neck. "Before..."
“You’re staying,” It wasn’t a question, yet it stilled him and he found that he couldn’t say yes. Couldn’t deny it either and he reminded himself to never underestimate her.
She sighed with her whole body, ribs expanding, breasts crushed to them. “A weeken, then,” she said, acceptance and awareness and longing tingeing her voice until it burned him and he tightened his hold on her. She curled her body into his, melting against him while he held her and then she slowly moved off of him, pushing herself up stiffly.
“I still need to get dressed,” she said quietly, and he let his head fall back, eyes closed against the sting before shifting his weight, sitting against the bed to watch the clean efficiency of her movements.
***
It was the snap of the holster, the weight of her pulse pistol sliding home that did it, brought her back to herself, kept her contained as John watched her from the floor. His eyes were heavy lidded, cloaking his thoughts, and his teeth scraped his full bottom lip. He rested his chin against his fingers as he tracked her movements. She felt disoriented and clumsy as she pulled on clean clothing, zipped her vest, cinched her boots. She was tempted to kneel back down beside him, ravage his mouth, tear his skin with her nails, press into him, searing them together, ignoring the pain in her body to keep him with her.
Like so many things though, it simply wasn't an option.
Instead she stood up straight, and looked around for her gunbelt, unsurprised to see it on the chair, waiting for her. The leather was cool and smooth in her palms, and John watched her intently as she put the belt in place.
“Welcome home, Captian,” he said. She offered him a hand up, which he accepted, careful not to pull to hard on her battered limbs, and he stood up, staying very close to her. “Now what?” he asked, the words barely above a whisper, an unspoken offer of something still there.
“I come back to life,” she said, fingertips involuntarily straying to his lips. He kissed them softly.
“All right,” he answered. “Let’s go.”
It was relatively easy to assemble everyone in D’Argo’s makeshift office. She supposed it would now technically be her makeshift office. D’Argo had hugged her again when they'd entered.
“I hereby officially return these troops to your command,” he said, the somber tone of his voice belying the joking words. “Especially Atos and Teyvn.”
The big Sebacean glared at him before breaking out into a grin, and Atos, never the most expressive of men fairly bristled with pleasure at her return.
John sat sprawled in the chair, watching the scene unfold with an ease that had been missing from him since she arrived, and while D’Argo and Teyvn bickered over ways to encase the generator in a protective enclosure, she looked at John closely. He seemed calmer, looser than he had before, but there were deep circles under his eyes. He caught her staring and smiled at her, a fierce grin, and she smiled back, a little puzzled but not bothering to reign in her pleasure at seeing him here, alive, brain intact, mind whole, her with her for however long they had. The moment was short lived, however, as the Princess and Tyno entered the room, Anix at their heels.
“Captain Sun,” Katralla said formally. “We are very, very glad that you’re alive.”
“Thank you, your highness,” she replied slowly, not knowing what else to say to the younger woman, and then, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” she offered impulsively, despite the awkwardness, because it was true, and because it was real. It was something that needed to be said.
Katralla looked grateful and sober, “Thank you,” she said, sounding surprised herself.
“Well,” said John. “Gangs all here. Guess we should get started.”
The generator would be functional by the next solar day, would be reason enough to hold the crowing ceremony. Aeryn ignored the sharpness, the piercing ache that discussion of the ceremony brought. It was the right thing to do for this planet, reestablishing a government, giving the people a way to rebuild their communities.
The alliance of rebels would do what they could, and Scorpius, with his oily promises would help to keep them safe now that she and John had delivered their secrets. Scorpius' knowledge was a greater evil, and would have to be dealt with at a later time. But it would be dealt with. That was a silent promise she gave for the harm done to her daughter and to John and to herself. She would make Scorpius pay, for all of this. And while Scorpius had the information from John’s mind, she knew how to build the displacement engine, understood what it could do, and they had John on their side, his wormholes a threat she could level against all of these aggressors if she needed to. Assuming, of course, John knew how to use them, or create them or summon them, or do anything besides being consumed by them. But in most cases, the threat would be enough. She had always been willing to use the weapons at her disposal, even if those weapons were little more than rumors and empty threats.
She also needed to dispatch half of her troops the next day following the ceremony. They simply couldn’t delay any longer, and D’Argo assured her that they were ready to go. The space around the planet was Scarran free, hopefully, and the need for their assistance was so great in a neighboring region where the Nebari hung like a storm over a series of farming communities that had only recently developed space exploration.
They would also need to take transports around the planet, and over to the satellite colonies before they left. Food would soon grow scarce while the trade routes were blocked and the people would need to have someplace to plant crops. This was something that she and her soliders could facilitate, sending shipments of grains and seeds back to the Royal Planet if need be.
It all felt so normal, discussing these strategies, planning a retreat, the rebuilding of a world, her daughter’s strong, young body near her, thin knee pressing into her thigh; John’s lazy grin watching her in pride; D’Argo, sarcastic and thorough in both his dismissal and support of everyone’s ideas. If she didn’t think about the gaze of her lover’s wife, the dead child hanging silently in the air between all of them, the real possibility that what they were doing was simply futile planning, it could have been any day in the last 16 cycles. All right, so that was somewhat of an exaggeration, but it still felt like her life, felt like things were where they should be, until her daughter put her hand on Aeryn’s arm, and quietly said, “I’m staying here. When you leave, I’m staying here with John.”
And the illusion fell apart.
Chapter 30B
He knelt at her feet, cheek pressed against the sharp bone of her hip, hand wrapped around her waist, eyes closed. Her hands were gentle, stroking his hair, small touches, fingertips light on his cheekbone, the brush of her thumb over his eyebrow. The room was so quiet, the only noises the soft scritch of skin against skin, the swaying of bodies. Not sex, not rough, aching lust, just quiet, just skin and bone and the touch of hands and lips.
He could have stayed there infinitely, in supplication, time suspended around them, but she finally said, her voice low and thick,“ I should get dressed.”
He turned his head, lips caressing the bruises on her hip, rising up from under the band of her black briefs. He touched the healing place under her ribs where the pulse blast had ripped through skin and muscle - the one thing the PK's had bothered to fix properly. He traced the broken bone, the bruises on her torso shaped like fists, the heavy mottled lines on the top of her thighs where the straps from the Aurora chair had held her down, the bands across her forearms from the same restraints.
He wanted to weep over the damage to her body, let his tears wash them both clean, but that was silly, pointless and unnecessarily melodramatic. He wanted to tear into the Peacekeepers with their senseless violence, wanted to tear into his own skin, rage against his weakness.
He also wanted to pull her down onto his lap, hold onto her for the rest of his life and that seemed far more practical, so he pushed down slightly on her hip, laced his fingers with hers and tugged and she sank down to her knees with a wince and a hiss.
“Painkillers not kicking in?” She smiled a little, bitter and smoky, as she settled onto his lap, her bare breasts swaying. He held her, arm around her, palm resting on her long, smooth back and he let himself trace the contour of her breast with his fingertips.
She half closed her eyes. “They’re working,” she murmured. “But they can’t do much. My system’s too frelled from the stims. Everything is just going to hurt for awhile.”
“Everything?” he whispered, almost surprised that he was thinking about sex, here, in the face of all of this, even with his arms full of Aeryn, but the evidence was definitely pointing in that direction.
She encircled his neck and he nuzzled along the line of her tricep, the rope of muscle taut underneath the rich skin.
“Everything,” she said quietly, no hint of teasing in her voice. She palmed his cheek, her eyes dark pools of want and need and not a little pain, and she leaned towards him, cool mouth meeting his, sliding against his lips, tongues slowly speaking quiet verses to each other as they moved together in a gentle rhythm.
When she withdrew, her breath still warm on his lips, her forehead touching his, eyes a little unfocused, he held her face in his hands, her cheekbones cutting sharp.
“ I love you,” he said, simplest thing in the universe, this truth. And it didn’t change a damned thing. Hurt like a mother instead.
“I love you too,” she said, lashes shadowing her eyes so he couldn’t read them, found he didn’t need to with the desperation in her whisper, the words beautiful as they brushed over his mouth.
“We’ve got a weeken, probably less,” he said, lips moving over her mouth, her jaw, sliding down the sweet, fine line of her neck. "Before..."
“You’re staying,” It wasn’t a question, yet it stilled him and he found that he couldn’t say yes. Couldn’t deny it either and he reminded himself to never underestimate her.
She sighed with her whole body, ribs expanding, breasts crushed to them. “A weeken, then,” she said, acceptance and awareness and longing tingeing her voice until it burned him and he tightened his hold on her. She curled her body into his, melting against him while he held her and then she slowly moved off of him, pushing herself up stiffly.
“I still need to get dressed,” she said quietly, and he let his head fall back, eyes closed against the sting before shifting his weight, sitting against the bed to watch the clean efficiency of her movements.
***
It was the snap of the holster, the weight of her pulse pistol sliding home that did it, brought her back to herself, kept her contained as John watched her from the floor. His eyes were heavy lidded, cloaking his thoughts, and his teeth scraped his full bottom lip. He rested his chin against his fingers as he tracked her movements. She felt disoriented and clumsy as she pulled on clean clothing, zipped her vest, cinched her boots. She was tempted to kneel back down beside him, ravage his mouth, tear his skin with her nails, press into him, searing them together, ignoring the pain in her body to keep him with her.
Like so many things though, it simply wasn't an option.
Instead she stood up straight, and looked around for her gunbelt, unsurprised to see it on the chair, waiting for her. The leather was cool and smooth in her palms, and John watched her intently as she put the belt in place.
“Welcome home, Captian,” he said. She offered him a hand up, which he accepted, careful not to pull to hard on her battered limbs, and he stood up, staying very close to her. “Now what?” he asked, the words barely above a whisper, an unspoken offer of something still there.
“I come back to life,” she said, fingertips involuntarily straying to his lips. He kissed them softly.
“All right,” he answered. “Let’s go.”
It was relatively easy to assemble everyone in D’Argo’s makeshift office. She supposed it would now technically be her makeshift office. D’Argo had hugged her again when they'd entered.
“I hereby officially return these troops to your command,” he said, the somber tone of his voice belying the joking words. “Especially Atos and Teyvn.”
The big Sebacean glared at him before breaking out into a grin, and Atos, never the most expressive of men fairly bristled with pleasure at her return.
John sat sprawled in the chair, watching the scene unfold with an ease that had been missing from him since she arrived, and while D’Argo and Teyvn bickered over ways to encase the generator in a protective enclosure, she looked at John closely. He seemed calmer, looser than he had before, but there were deep circles under his eyes. He caught her staring and smiled at her, a fierce grin, and she smiled back, a little puzzled but not bothering to reign in her pleasure at seeing him here, alive, brain intact, mind whole, her with her for however long they had. The moment was short lived, however, as the Princess and Tyno entered the room, Anix at their heels.
“Captain Sun,” Katralla said formally. “We are very, very glad that you’re alive.”
“Thank you, your highness,” she replied slowly, not knowing what else to say to the younger woman, and then, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” she offered impulsively, despite the awkwardness, because it was true, and because it was real. It was something that needed to be said.
Katralla looked grateful and sober, “Thank you,” she said, sounding surprised herself.
“Well,” said John. “Gangs all here. Guess we should get started.”
The generator would be functional by the next solar day, would be reason enough to hold the crowing ceremony. Aeryn ignored the sharpness, the piercing ache that discussion of the ceremony brought. It was the right thing to do for this planet, reestablishing a government, giving the people a way to rebuild their communities.
The alliance of rebels would do what they could, and Scorpius, with his oily promises would help to keep them safe now that she and John had delivered their secrets. Scorpius' knowledge was a greater evil, and would have to be dealt with at a later time. But it would be dealt with. That was a silent promise she gave for the harm done to her daughter and to John and to herself. She would make Scorpius pay, for all of this. And while Scorpius had the information from John’s mind, she knew how to build the displacement engine, understood what it could do, and they had John on their side, his wormholes a threat she could level against all of these aggressors if she needed to. Assuming, of course, John knew how to use them, or create them or summon them, or do anything besides being consumed by them. But in most cases, the threat would be enough. She had always been willing to use the weapons at her disposal, even if those weapons were little more than rumors and empty threats.
She also needed to dispatch half of her troops the next day following the ceremony. They simply couldn’t delay any longer, and D’Argo assured her that they were ready to go. The space around the planet was Scarran free, hopefully, and the need for their assistance was so great in a neighboring region where the Nebari hung like a storm over a series of farming communities that had only recently developed space exploration.
They would also need to take transports around the planet, and over to the satellite colonies before they left. Food would soon grow scarce while the trade routes were blocked and the people would need to have someplace to plant crops. This was something that she and her soliders could facilitate, sending shipments of grains and seeds back to the Royal Planet if need be.
It all felt so normal, discussing these strategies, planning a retreat, the rebuilding of a world, her daughter’s strong, young body near her, thin knee pressing into her thigh; John’s lazy grin watching her in pride; D’Argo, sarcastic and thorough in both his dismissal and support of everyone’s ideas. If she didn’t think about the gaze of her lover’s wife, the dead child hanging silently in the air between all of them, the real possibility that what they were doing was simply futile planning, it could have been any day in the last 16 cycles. All right, so that was somewhat of an exaggeration, but it still felt like her life, felt like things were where they should be, until her daughter put her hand on Aeryn’s arm, and quietly said, “I’m staying here. When you leave, I’m staying here with John.”
And the illusion fell apart.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 05:12 pm (UTC)And nicely done, by the way. Great buildup, great bombshell.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:44 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it, though:)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 05:43 pm (UTC)It's like a return to baseline, when the story began; Royal Planet and John, rebellion and Aeryn. They'll try to continue as before, as if the events in between were a nightmare, but nothing can be the same again.
Aeryn's had her child for 14/15 cycles; John's lost his. It seems like a balance for Anix to stay and learn about the parent she didn't know she had.
And Aeryn will know her child is safe.
Of course, this leaves both Scorpius and Aeryn with the knowledge of John's location and utility; Scorpius knowa of his levers - Anix, Katralla, any children he and Katralla have, his life on the Royal Planet. Aeryn, if she should fall again into Scorpius's hands. If I read 30A right, he let her go, correct? That seems like a one-time grace.
All in all, a stunning and complex and enthralling story. I can hardly wait for the final chapter and for the finished product, to read in one long sitting.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:38 am (UTC)I'm debating about whether to do anymore explanation of why Scorpy let Aeryn go, but I may wait until the edit. I don't know if it will feel forced.
And you're just making me blush and dance around with your praise. Thank you so much for all of the support!!!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 05:56 pm (UTC)I am so loving this story, it's just gorgeous, and I'm getting all verklempt that it's almost finished! ::sniff::
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:34 am (UTC)I'm so glad you've enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 08:27 pm (UTC)So. beautiful.
I think John's got something up his sleeve, though...?
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:27 am (UTC)But don't count too much on John. He's desperately treading water right now.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-06 09:35 pm (UTC)Oh man...I could just SEE their faces. And the end...wow. Those words had to devastate Aeryn even though logically she might understand that Anix could be safer staying.
Even though I doubt this is going to end how I want it to end...I still just love this story!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 07:36 am (UTC)cool mouth meeting his, sliding against his lips, tongues slowly speaking quiet verses to each other
Damned beautiful, Thea.
But why is John so relaxed and smiling, especially when he knows what Aeryn doesn't know until the very end of this scene? Oh this is (immensely enjoyable) agony!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 10:09 am (UTC)And John, well, he's taking what he can get right now I think, and doesn't, didn't know that Anix was going to say that. He's also more than a little lost in all of this, and trying to figure out how to not just be glad that she's alive.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 11:34 am (UTC)Great story. Can't wait to read the rest.
CrystalMoon
no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 12:06 pm (UTC)And, um, right now? Them being together. No. Not really. Things have circled back to the beginning, and there may not be a happy ending. Of course, that doesn't mean that John has accepted that yet.