Don't Talk
By Shaye
DISCLAIMER: Farscape is the genius of Henson, O’Bannon, Hallmark, Sci-Fi & etc. Lyrics by Natalie Merchant/10,000 Maniacs.
ARCHIVING: To the usual suspects. Others please ask.
NOTES: For Rachel, in return for the one she crossed off. This is a kind of philosophical sequel to “Talk,” a fic in which John and Aeryn try, rather unsuccessfully, to discuss what happened between them in AHR. This might make more sense having read the first one. Set sometime soon after “A Clockwork Nebari” but contains no spoilers for that episode.
Mmmm...it can’t be time to wake yet.
I feel drunk on sleep.
Peacekeepers are conditioned to wake automatically at the correct time. My whole life, I’ve never needed any kind of alarm in order to wake up. In turn, I sleep soundly through the night unless there is an emergency. But here, now, I am awake. This can’t be right. It’s not time to wake yet; I can tell by Moya’s rhythms. But to be sure...
I hit my comm. “Pilot?”
“Yes, Aeryn Sun?”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Around four arns. Is everything all right?”
Four arns. I should definitely still be asleep.
“Officer Sun?”
Come on, Aeryn. Pilot asked you a question. I shake myself. “Yes, Pilot. Everything is fine.” Having assured Pilot, I fall back against my bed, spreading out luxuriously.
There is something strange in the air, though. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. All I know is that one moment, I was sleeping. And the next, I was wide awake. Everything seems to be calm and functioning normally. So why did I wake up, not a hundred microts ago, for no reason at all?
I can’t tell. But laying here on my bed, I feel strange. Warm all over, not too hot, just...nice. I feel--I guess I would have to say I feel satisfied. I close my eyes, taking in this misplaced feeling of well-being. And I realize I want to share it.
Crichton’s door is not far away. He’s sleeping very deeply now. I’ve learned a little more about his sleeping patterns since the last time I stood here. The door opens softly, but he continues to sleep. I can feel a ridiculously wide smile stretch across my face. There is definitely something strange in the air.
~*~
///Don't talk, I will listen. Don't talk, you keep your distance for I'd rather hear some truth tonight than entertain your lies. Let me be. Let me close my eyes. So don't talk, let me go on dreaming.///
~*~
This is the best dream.
Definitely, the best. Aeryn’s here, in my room, and for no reason, she suddenly starts rubbing my chest. In fact, you know what? That’s the wrong word. She’s caressing my chest, stroking my chest. And God, does it feel good.
Ever have one of those dreams where everything seems so real, you can almost taste it? Yep, this is the best dream.
And now she’s talking to me. “John,” comes the sexy, husky sound of her voice. “Wake up.”
Hmm. Don’t wanna wake up.
But it’s useless; the dream is now gone. The manifestation of Aeryn, in my room, running her hands over me, is replaced by the real Aeryn, standing over me, demanding my attention.
It must be the middle of the night, because I just can’t shake this off of me. I mumble, “Is there an emergency?”
I could almost swear she’s smiling at me. “No.”
Frell it. Whatever she wants, it can wait for the morning. Dream-Aeryn is much more fun. As much as I love being around her, the Real Aeryn would never do something like that, not now at least. She’s too busy keeping her distance. And that dream was just too nice. I can already feel myself going back to sleep.
I wave her away with my hand. “Go ‘way. I was having the best dream, and you interrupted it.” She says nothing. “You felt so good...”
If I didn’t know better I’d think Aeryn had taken that lower lip between her teeth. Words can’t describe how good she looks. “I was in your dream?”
She’s even asking? Of course she was in my dream. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Now go ‘way. I want to get back to that...”
“I’m sure you do.” She’s laughing at me, I know. “Come on, Crichton. Wake up. I’m not going away.” I open one eye just enough to sneak a glance at this gorgeous woman. Maybe I’m dreaming again already.
She reaches out her hands again, but this time she shakes me, hard.
God, that sure wakes you up. I can see her for real now, not just through half-closed eyes. And to my utter disbelief, the Real Aeryn starts mimicking exactly what she was doing in my dream. Caressing my chest.
Suddenly it all clicks. It was real.
“That wasn’t a dream. That was you.” You can imagine how skeptical I sound.
This sly grin spreads over her face, and it takes my breath away. Holy lord. This is all real. Still smiling, she moves a little closer. “Am I in your dreams often?”
What the hell. “Darlin’, you’re in my head even more often than Scorpius.”
Bzzzz, wrong answer, bud. That changed her mood for sure. She pulls her hands away.
Damn it.
~*~
///Don't talk, I'll believe it. Don't talk, listen to me instead, I know that if you think of it, both long enough and hard The drink you drown your troubles in is the trouble you’re in now.
Talk talk talk about it, you talk as if you care but when your talk is over tilt that bottle in the air, tossing back more than your share. Don't talk, I can guess it.///
~*~
Oh, frell.
“Darlin’, you’re in my head more often than Scorpius.”
Frell. Frell, frell, frell. That’s the first time he’s willingly mentioned this thing with the ‘flashes.’
It’s all wrong. I don’t think I’ve realized before how much the past half-cycle has affected him. Of course, I know it’s all been pretty momentous, but this is even more all-consuming than I’d thought. I must approach it very carefully.
If he’ll talk to anyone about it, I know it will be me. And though I’ve asked, he hasn’t yet been willing.
Frell, why does tonight, of all nights, have to be the time?
“Yes.” It’s all I can get out for a microt. “What about Scorpius?”
His face clouds over, just as I feared it might. Then he wrinkles his nose, giving me a dismissive grin. “I don’t want to talk about it, Aeryn. Not now.”
Like frell he’s not going to talk about it now. “Crichton, you have to. It’s obviously on your mind. Half the problem is that you refuse to let me help. You can’t drown the problem in silence forever; it won’t do any good.”
He bites his lip and turns his eyes away. That’s not going to deter me. I only hesitate slightly as I reach up to stroke my fingers through the hair at his temple. “Let me help you.”
Finally, a thought occurs to me. Maybe I’ve been going about this in all the wrong ways. “You don’t have to say anything, Crichton.” I make sure my voice is barely above a whisper. “I know. I can guess how hard this all is for you. Remember, I almost didn’t tell anyone about my paraphoral nerve. And, um, this thing with Scorpius must be, in many ways, more frightening.”
He looks me in the eye, his breath catching on something that may be a sob. “Aeryn--”
“No, John. Don’t talk right now. Just listen to me. You’re not ready. If there’s anything I can understand, it’s that. But I won’t let you keep silent forever. Don’t talk about it tonight, that’s fine. But I will get it out of you eventually.”
Maybe what this man needs is to forget for a while, instead of constantly remembering. This man seated before me has been almost broken dozens of times. I cannot tell how often it can happen before the damage is irreparable. But for now, for tonight, maybe we both need to forget.
~*~
///Don't talk, well now you’re restless and you need somewhere to put the blame for how you feel inside. You'll look for a close and easy mark and you'll see me as fair game.///
~*~
Women.
I can’t understand them, but no way in hell would I want to live without them. And this one, in particular, baffles me half the time. The weird part is, the other half I know exactly what she’s thinking, full details, without even asking.
Tonight has definitely been of the baffling half.
“Don’t talk about it tonight, that’s fine. But I will get it out of you eventually.”
Is this really Aeryn Sun? There are three qualities Aeryn does not possess in abundance: patience, loquaciousness, and triviality. This smells of all three. In some ways, I can understand. It’s probably not wise to mention our worst enemy during an intimate moment. And damn my fried brain for that, but hell, she’s obviously in some kind of mood, and there just might be an invitation buried deep in there somewhere. I’d really like to revisit that creative way of waking me up. Beats Mom’s method of yanking the sheets and dumping me on the floor any day.
Oh. God. She’s doing it again. The chest thing. No, not anything with her chest...it’s...oh, God. Her hands feel so good on me.
“You’re incredible.” And she is.
But no. I can’t.
“No. I can’t.”
Did I say that out loud? Because it’s looking that way. Her face...she looks so hurt. “Aeryn--I didn’t mean...”
Frell. What did I mean? Aeryn’s...not like this. The few times she’s tried to change her ways have failed miserably. And this has just been too good to end up like that. I won’t let it happen. I can’t.
“Aeryn, you know how you never really like to talk about yourself, well, at all? I just think this is a little strange...and...I don’t want you doing this just because you’re feeling restless. And I don’t want to feel guilty afterwards because of how you feel. I just don’t want this to be some kind of way of releasing your tension, and then dealing with the fallout if you can’t handle it...”
Can I run off at the mouth or what?
The hurt is easily evident in her face, but as I stammer my way through a lousy explanation, I can see it slowly turn to something like understanding.
And maybe that scares me the most of all.
~*~
///You talk talk talk about it, talk as if you care. I'm marking every word and can tell this time for sure, your talk is the finest I have heard.///
~*~
The human talks too much. I’ve always known that, but now it’s just getting frelling irritating. Frankly, he’s ruining my good mood.
“I just don’t want this to be some kind of way of releasing your tension, and then dealing with the fallout if you can’t handle it...”
And as I listen to his words, words which should hurt me, I find I can only do one thing.
Laugh.
“Chiana was right,” I snicker. “Men really are stupid.”
That stops his rant. He bites back his words and looks at me with that frelling adorable grin, the one that’s slightly confused. The one that goes all the way from his jaw to his eyes. I can’t help but grin back.
“She said I needed to tell you exactly how I feel about you. Well, sorry, but I’m not about to do that. Talk, talk, talk. I’d rather hear you talk than anyone else, but I’m tired of talking.”
He doesn’t know quite how to take that. “But, Aeryn--”
No way. “John,” I say in my most commanding voice. When he looks up at me, intimidation written all over his face, I smile at him, laughing as I speak. “Don’t talk.”
~*~
///How your eyes they glow so fiercely I can tell you’re inspired by the name that you just chose for me. Now what was it? Oh, never mind it.///
~*~
Oh, God. Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Frell, I’m calling on deities I haven’t approached since Mom and Dad stopped making me go to church when I was ten. This has to be bad. And very, very good at the same time.
“I’m tired of talking,” she said. And she meant it. But then, she always means it.
Her eyes are positively glowing. Everything about her is glowing, and she looks so...happy. So beautiful.
And those eyes are piercing me in a way that only Aeryn’s can.
“John.” Her voice is compelling, but softens considerably as she tells me, “Don’t talk.”
Wait. What was it she called me?
She’s doing it again, with her hands on my chest.
Suddenly, I don’t care what name she chose for me.
~*~
///We will talk talk talk about this when your head is clear. I'll discuss this in the morning, but until then you may talk but I won't hear.///
~*~
I can hear his breathing hitch. Mm-hmm, that’s the reaction I was looking for.
He’s laughing, and he sounds a little nervous. And I’m going to shoot him with his own pulse gun if he bats my hands away one more time. “Aeryn, don’t you think--”
“John, I’m not in the mood to be crossed,” I warn.
He pins me with his eyes, taking my wrists in his hands. It’s the only way he can still mine. Looking at me with another of those infuriatingly attractive smirks, he does something I had not expected. He relents.
“We are going to talk about this is the morning, right? No diversions, no distractions.”
Well, if that’s all he was worried about. “Yes, John.” I smile patiently, as if to a child. “We’ll discuss this in the morning. But in the meantime...”
My position standing over him is to my advantage. I take his head in my hands, running my fingers through the hair at his temples. I could do this for arns. I use just enough force to tilt his head back to look me square in the eye. “I think I told you not to talk.”
His eyes light up. “What if I, uh, can’t exactly help it?” he leers.
I smile. Clever man. “Well, if it becomes imperative, by all means, say whatever you please. But I can’t offer any guarantees that I’ll be listening.” His lips curl invitingly, and I take full advantage.
Whatever caused me to wake tonight, I silently bless it, with all the benedictions of the lost Sebacean gods. For tonight, I was finally able to get John Crichton to stop talking.
F I N I S