Aeryn's Journey - #17 THE CHOICE
Nov. 12th, 2009 09:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nymeria_dw Aeryn's Journey - The Choice
(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 3 - episode 17
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How do I stop feeling?
How do I hide behind the walls that guarded me all my life?
I can't. Not since they were torn down leaving me exposed.
You tore them down and then left me to face all this. Alone.
No, not completely alone, because I see you everywhere, and that's even worse.
How dare you look so sad and lost, when I am the one who's left to cope with this?
Or come as an old man, asking me to remember a life we never had?
A life we will not have, because you're gone and all that's left is the pain. It's just the same old pain - same pain.
And the memories.
I try to flee from them, from you, yet you just keep coming back, haunting me.
And when I give in, desperately seeking some of your warmth, of your remembered solidity, you vanish like the wisp of smoke you are.
This is my world now. I think I liked yours better.
A world of shadows. And ghosts. That's what I have become.
"Crichton loved you Aeryn. He wouldn't want his death to lead you here."
But it did, Rygel, it did.
You see, he died, and I can't tolerate the living any more, not when they come knocking at my door, reminding me they are here when he's not. Flaunting their lives, wants and needs, when he is no more.
For a moment I wanted them to pay for this, for being alive. I wanted them to bleed as I was bleeding.
But it brought no comfort, it did not fill the screaming abyss.
Go away, Rygel, before you, too, fall into it…
"He can bring Crichton back?"
"Perhaps. Don't lose hope…y-yet..."
Hope. I have hope, or I have nothing.
I never cared much about hope, before, when I was not used to it (promotion…retirement…death…) and now I hang on to its barest travesty, offered by this deformed creature brought by a misshapen ghost.
And why not? Why the frell not? I returned from the dead. Why can't he?
"You can't bring me back, you know."
That's cruel. Teaching me hope and then snatching it away.
"Was it easy to be a hero? Leave me behind?"
Now I have nothing left.
"Let me go. I died a long time ago. You live– for me."
Watching a once-proud soldier fall to her death, embracing it, I understand our terrible mistake. We do nothing for love. Not one thing. Because when we make that choice, we pay for it. I killed your father so you could live. I did that– for love.
Love kills.
He made me better.
But he forgot to tell me that it would be so frelling painful.
To know how close I was– to love. So close... And then to lose it all in an instant.
"If you'd lived I could have truly changed. But you are gone." I'm tired of hurting. "And I am– what I was bred to be."
This I know how to do on my own: taut braid, straight back, weapon strapped to my thigh.
The ghost in the mirror does not approve, does not understand.
"Aeryn…come here."
"No." You lose them - everything - instantly. And suddenly nothing can replace them. Nothing. "You have to go now."
And so do I. There is nothing for me here. Nothing.
"Wait!" The…thing's entreaty is too strong to be ignored. "Most of the time…Aeryn…what we do is a distortion…a hoax. But…with you…Aeryn Sun…it may…have been…real. Shall we try? One…more…time?"
You can't bring me back…
Nothing.
(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 3 - episode 17
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*
How do I stop feeling?
How do I hide behind the walls that guarded me all my life?
I can't. Not since they were torn down leaving me exposed.
You tore them down and then left me to face all this. Alone.
No, not completely alone, because I see you everywhere, and that's even worse.
How dare you look so sad and lost, when I am the one who's left to cope with this?
Or come as an old man, asking me to remember a life we never had?
A life we will not have, because you're gone and all that's left is the pain. It's just the same old pain - same pain.
And the memories.
I try to flee from them, from you, yet you just keep coming back, haunting me.
And when I give in, desperately seeking some of your warmth, of your remembered solidity, you vanish like the wisp of smoke you are.
This is my world now. I think I liked yours better.
A world of shadows. And ghosts. That's what I have become.
"Crichton loved you Aeryn. He wouldn't want his death to lead you here."
But it did, Rygel, it did.
You see, he died, and I can't tolerate the living any more, not when they come knocking at my door, reminding me they are here when he's not. Flaunting their lives, wants and needs, when he is no more.
For a moment I wanted them to pay for this, for being alive. I wanted them to bleed as I was bleeding.
But it brought no comfort, it did not fill the screaming abyss.
Go away, Rygel, before you, too, fall into it…
"He can bring Crichton back?"
"Perhaps. Don't lose hope…y-yet..."
Hope. I have hope, or I have nothing.
I never cared much about hope, before, when I was not used to it (promotion…retirement…death…) and now I hang on to its barest travesty, offered by this deformed creature brought by a misshapen ghost.
And why not? Why the frell not? I returned from the dead. Why can't he?
"You can't bring me back, you know."
That's cruel. Teaching me hope and then snatching it away.
"Was it easy to be a hero? Leave me behind?"
Now I have nothing left.
"Let me go. I died a long time ago. You live– for me."
Watching a once-proud soldier fall to her death, embracing it, I understand our terrible mistake. We do nothing for love. Not one thing. Because when we make that choice, we pay for it. I killed your father so you could live. I did that– for love.
Love kills.
He made me better.
But he forgot to tell me that it would be so frelling painful.
To know how close I was– to love. So close... And then to lose it all in an instant.
"If you'd lived I could have truly changed. But you are gone." I'm tired of hurting. "And I am– what I was bred to be."
This I know how to do on my own: taut braid, straight back, weapon strapped to my thigh.
The ghost in the mirror does not approve, does not understand.
"Aeryn…come here."
"No." You lose them - everything - instantly. And suddenly nothing can replace them. Nothing. "You have to go now."
And so do I. There is nothing for me here. Nothing.
"Wait!" The…thing's entreaty is too strong to be ignored. "Most of the time…Aeryn…what we do is a distortion…a hoax. But…with you…Aeryn Sun…it may…have been…real. Shall we try? One…more…time?"
You can't bring me back…
Nothing.
