nymeria_dw (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nymeria_dw) wrote2010-05-12 10:59 pm
nymeria_dw) wrote2010-05-12 10:59 pm
Entry tags:
AERYN'S JOURNEY - #24 PROMISES
AERYN'S JOURNEY - Promises
(a Farscape fanfiction)
Author: Nymeria
Disclaimer: the Farscape universe and its characters do not belong to me - I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Rating: PG
Setting: Season 4 Episode 5
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*
"Pilot, Moya looks beautiful."
D'Argo's voice over the comms is a welcome sound, bringing a warm wave of relief that has nothing to do with the malignant heat coursing through my body. Burning up, I'm burning up.
There are other familiar, happy voices in the background, like Rygel's saying something about eagerness, but they all fade before the one that matters most.
"Pilot, you and Moya okay?"
He's here.
The release of the breath I wasn't aware of holding sounds loud in my ears, louder than the beat of my heart, louder than the pounding of fevered blood in my veins.
I leave the Den with a nod to Pilot, whose eyes follow me with a concern he doesn't bother hiding while he keeps up a conversation with the others. Their words wash over me because only the voices matter, confirming they are real, and near. I missed them.
At the door of the hangar bay I stop, uncertain, puzzled. I meant to do something first, but I can't remember. Thoughts are sluggish and struggle to stay afloat in a sea of smothering heat.
Then purpose surfaces again, and I remove the suit's headpiece, letting the damp hair fall around my face.
"You are compromising the integrity of the cooling system this way."
I knew he would be here, lurking in the shadows, waiting. I'm neither surprised nor startled by his voice.
"I am not meeting them looking like that," no need to elaborate, he knows what I mean.
"You may be right, Officer Sun." Smooth, so smooth. "I'll place my trust in your…bargaining devices."
Trust. What a strange word on those lips. As strange as gratitude. Well, no matter: I've repaid worst debts than this one.
The bay is deserted and silent, its shadows offering the illusion of coolness against the searing heat battering at me with renewed strength.
Each step is a struggle, each breath is torture, but I must endure. I have promises to keep.
Then I see him.
He's moving with caution, gun drawn, body language speaking of coiled wariness and something else, something new and indefinable that I never saw before, even in the worst of times.
Relief overcomes every other consideration though, and as I move toward him I feel tears fighting with a wobbling smile and mingling with feverish sweat. For the first time in my life I'm not ashamed of such weakness, because it's not.
Then he sees me.
"Aeryn…" the whisper almost carries the reverence and awe of answered prayer."You've come back."
Yes. No more running, I promised myself, and this is the first step. Coming back, being here.
This is exactly where you should be. Yes, I know that, now.
"Everything's gonna be all right."
John Crichton, always the hopeful one. The one who believes in 'all right' even when it's not possible.
Not as long as this barrier of promises and obligations remains more impenetrable and constricting than the hideous second skin keeping me alive. Keeping me apart.
There is no mistaking the puzzled, worried look on Chiana's face, even as she offers welcome support, like there's no mistaking the look of revulsion on John's face when he sees me like this, the embodiment of a nightmare.
"This is not how I pictured coming back."
"It's just fate. As usual, keeping its bargain and…screwing us in the fine print."
He is close to smiling now, and looks at me, not at my nightmarish appearance. He almost seems like the old John, warm and helpful and giving. Maybe we are going to be all right, after all.
"So how did you catch this cold? Dancing…barefoot in the rain?"
No, not quite all right, then: there are many unspoken questions hidden behind the light, Crichton-like nonsense. As there are many things that must remain buried.
And I am sorry.
Sorry that I have to cloak myself in silence, when I know how important it would be to talk - now more than any other time.
Sorry that this enforced silence is putting them all at risk, because my biggest mistake is still tracking me.
And has found its quarry.
I know I can't protect my friends from him, as I could not protect my comrades: Essok dispatched in mercy by my own hand, Yerray gone up in flames with his Prowler, running from capture. Or the Living Death.
"If any of us gets caught, the others are dead as well. Remember that."
Jacksha's voice is clear in my mind, as is my purpose.
I am the danger. I am the only obstacle to their safety.
I know what I have to do.
"Good-bye John."
Rygel.
He seems to have taken into his hands the mission of keeping me from...self-sacrifice, as he calls it.
And who would have thought there was so much strength in that small body?
Yet it was all for nothing: I feel the flames roaring in my blood, I feel myself slipping away. Soon I will not be a danger anymore.
"Before the Living Death takes hold, you have to be prepared to kill me. Promise."
"And what if other people…depend on you?"
They do, John. I am the only barrier between them and this monster's vengeance, and the only key he has for unleashing it on them. Once I'm gone, he will be powerless, and they'll be safe.
I promised.
"Ullom doesn't care about anyone else. He just wants me."
"Not as much as I do."
I know.
I know what it will be like for you once I'm gone.
I learned all about want, and need and loss, much as I didn't want to, but I also discovered how it changes you, how it makes you grow. You were the one who taught me about more, and you will remember it once you find the strength to overcome the pain.
Even if you don't feel ready now.
"Doesn't life mean anything to you? When did you become an assassin?"
"When I found a cause that required it."
You see, John, I never had one before. What I did, what I used to do, was just obey orders, follow rules. Mouth words like loyalty, sacrifice, honor, without really knowing what they meant.
But this– this was my choice: I knew it might hurt, that it might cost me, but it was mine.
I did some good things. I'm proud of my life.
"Tell me…it's worth you dying."
"It is." You taught me.
A new lease on life. Again.
And this time, maybe, with enough wisdom to avoid the same mistakes.
"I'd like to stay."
"I'm sure Moya would be very happy with that." His smile's guarded, but it's there.
Time and patience.
"I need to recover." I am tired, in body and mind both.
I took the first step by returning home to Moya, but for a new beginning I will need much more than what I have in me now. Keeping the body alive, as I told John long ago, is not enough anymore.
"I want to be here." Where I belong. "Is there a problem?"
John's face is like a mask. He's now a man of few words that leave his mouth almost grudgingly. He has become a puzzle to which I lost the key.
Time and patience.
"Any other...oaths of silence I should know about?" Behind the tightly controlled features something lurks, something I can't find a name for. "So you could tell me if…you were…pregnant."
The name's anger. Held in check, but there nevertheless, plain in the tight slapping of gloves against the other hand.
We have changed so much. Grown different, grown apart. Lost the ability to reach out to each other, the mutual understanding that went beyond words.
Struck by this revelation I miss the chance to bridge the chasm, and now it's gone.
And John with it.
Time and patience.
Going back was never an option, I know that now. Going forward takes strength and determination, I know that too, and it's never easy.
Whatever it takes.
I have promises to keep. Still.
(a Farscape fanfiction)
Author: Nymeria
Disclaimer: the Farscape universe and its characters do not belong to me - I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Rating: PG
Setting: Season 4 Episode 5
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*
"Pilot, Moya looks beautiful."
D'Argo's voice over the comms is a welcome sound, bringing a warm wave of relief that has nothing to do with the malignant heat coursing through my body. Burning up, I'm burning up.
There are other familiar, happy voices in the background, like Rygel's saying something about eagerness, but they all fade before the one that matters most.
"Pilot, you and Moya okay?"
He's here.
The release of the breath I wasn't aware of holding sounds loud in my ears, louder than the beat of my heart, louder than the pounding of fevered blood in my veins.
I leave the Den with a nod to Pilot, whose eyes follow me with a concern he doesn't bother hiding while he keeps up a conversation with the others. Their words wash over me because only the voices matter, confirming they are real, and near. I missed them.
At the door of the hangar bay I stop, uncertain, puzzled. I meant to do something first, but I can't remember. Thoughts are sluggish and struggle to stay afloat in a sea of smothering heat.
Then purpose surfaces again, and I remove the suit's headpiece, letting the damp hair fall around my face.
"You are compromising the integrity of the cooling system this way."
I knew he would be here, lurking in the shadows, waiting. I'm neither surprised nor startled by his voice.
"I am not meeting them looking like that," no need to elaborate, he knows what I mean.
"You may be right, Officer Sun." Smooth, so smooth. "I'll place my trust in your…bargaining devices."
Trust. What a strange word on those lips. As strange as gratitude. Well, no matter: I've repaid worst debts than this one.
The bay is deserted and silent, its shadows offering the illusion of coolness against the searing heat battering at me with renewed strength.
Each step is a struggle, each breath is torture, but I must endure. I have promises to keep.
Then I see him.
He's moving with caution, gun drawn, body language speaking of coiled wariness and something else, something new and indefinable that I never saw before, even in the worst of times.
Relief overcomes every other consideration though, and as I move toward him I feel tears fighting with a wobbling smile and mingling with feverish sweat. For the first time in my life I'm not ashamed of such weakness, because it's not.
Then he sees me.
"Aeryn…" the whisper almost carries the reverence and awe of answered prayer."You've come back."
Yes. No more running, I promised myself, and this is the first step. Coming back, being here.
This is exactly where you should be. Yes, I know that, now.
"Everything's gonna be all right."
John Crichton, always the hopeful one. The one who believes in 'all right' even when it's not possible.
Not as long as this barrier of promises and obligations remains more impenetrable and constricting than the hideous second skin keeping me alive. Keeping me apart.
There is no mistaking the puzzled, worried look on Chiana's face, even as she offers welcome support, like there's no mistaking the look of revulsion on John's face when he sees me like this, the embodiment of a nightmare.
"This is not how I pictured coming back."
"It's just fate. As usual, keeping its bargain and…screwing us in the fine print."
He is close to smiling now, and looks at me, not at my nightmarish appearance. He almost seems like the old John, warm and helpful and giving. Maybe we are going to be all right, after all.
"So how did you catch this cold? Dancing…barefoot in the rain?"
No, not quite all right, then: there are many unspoken questions hidden behind the light, Crichton-like nonsense. As there are many things that must remain buried.
And I am sorry.
Sorry that I have to cloak myself in silence, when I know how important it would be to talk - now more than any other time.
Sorry that this enforced silence is putting them all at risk, because my biggest mistake is still tracking me.
And has found its quarry.
I know I can't protect my friends from him, as I could not protect my comrades: Essok dispatched in mercy by my own hand, Yerray gone up in flames with his Prowler, running from capture. Or the Living Death.
"If any of us gets caught, the others are dead as well. Remember that."
Jacksha's voice is clear in my mind, as is my purpose.
I am the danger. I am the only obstacle to their safety.
I know what I have to do.
"Good-bye John."
Rygel.
He seems to have taken into his hands the mission of keeping me from...self-sacrifice, as he calls it.
And who would have thought there was so much strength in that small body?
Yet it was all for nothing: I feel the flames roaring in my blood, I feel myself slipping away. Soon I will not be a danger anymore.
"Before the Living Death takes hold, you have to be prepared to kill me. Promise."
"And what if other people…depend on you?"
They do, John. I am the only barrier between them and this monster's vengeance, and the only key he has for unleashing it on them. Once I'm gone, he will be powerless, and they'll be safe.
I promised.
"Ullom doesn't care about anyone else. He just wants me."
"Not as much as I do."
I know.
I know what it will be like for you once I'm gone.
I learned all about want, and need and loss, much as I didn't want to, but I also discovered how it changes you, how it makes you grow. You were the one who taught me about more, and you will remember it once you find the strength to overcome the pain.
Even if you don't feel ready now.
"Doesn't life mean anything to you? When did you become an assassin?"
"When I found a cause that required it."
You see, John, I never had one before. What I did, what I used to do, was just obey orders, follow rules. Mouth words like loyalty, sacrifice, honor, without really knowing what they meant.
But this– this was my choice: I knew it might hurt, that it might cost me, but it was mine.
I did some good things. I'm proud of my life.
"Tell me…it's worth you dying."
"It is." You taught me.
A new lease on life. Again.
And this time, maybe, with enough wisdom to avoid the same mistakes.
"I'd like to stay."
"I'm sure Moya would be very happy with that." His smile's guarded, but it's there.
Time and patience.
"I need to recover." I am tired, in body and mind both.
I took the first step by returning home to Moya, but for a new beginning I will need much more than what I have in me now. Keeping the body alive, as I told John long ago, is not enough anymore.
"I want to be here." Where I belong. "Is there a problem?"
John's face is like a mask. He's now a man of few words that leave his mouth almost grudgingly. He has become a puzzle to which I lost the key.
Time and patience.
"Any other...oaths of silence I should know about?" Behind the tightly controlled features something lurks, something I can't find a name for. "So you could tell me if…you were…pregnant."
The name's anger. Held in check, but there nevertheless, plain in the tight slapping of gloves against the other hand.
We have changed so much. Grown different, grown apart. Lost the ability to reach out to each other, the mutual understanding that went beyond words.
Struck by this revelation I miss the chance to bridge the chasm, and now it's gone.
And John with it.
Time and patience.
Going back was never an option, I know that now. Going forward takes strength and determination, I know that too, and it's never easy.
Whatever it takes.
I have promises to keep. Still.
no subject
I see you've been busy so yay! With a great result!
I like the best tis part -
The name's anger. Held in check, but there nevertheless, plain in the tight slapping of gloves against the other hand.
Very powerful piece.
no subject
I'm sorry about your cold: with this funny spring (funny being a *big* understatement...) colds are becoming the norm.
And let's not talk about volcanic ashes! *sigh*
Yes, I've been a little busy :-) : after a long time I finally found the energy to start the 'Journey' again.
We'll see how it goes...
Thank you SO much for stopping by and for your kind words! *wave*