Fire and Ice
DISCLAIMER: Farscape and all characters contained within belong to Rockne O'Bannon, the Henson Company, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Networks Australia, and the Sci-Fi Channel. Crichton-Sun Productions does, however, own the story contained herein. Lyrics quoted are from "Building a Mystery," written by Sarah McLachlan. Used without permission.
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Aeryn and Zhaan lagged a short distance behind D'Argo and John as they walked through the crowded marketplace. A relatively peaceful planet with infrequent Peacekeeper contact, Annota Prime proved to be the perfect place to relax. A stroke of luck for once, as the transport merchant had just informed them it would take at least three days to secure the parts needed for her Prowler. In the meantime, it looked like they would have plenty of time to enjoy themselves while they collected the rest of their supplies.
Aeryn paused to inspect a display of local delicacies, then turned to her companion. "Pilot needs to know about the delay. The merchant mentioned that this planet imposes a dusk-to-dawn communications blackout," she said, turning to squint up at the distant sun, which now hung rather low in the sky. "We should contact him now. I don't know how much longer we have, but I'd rather not take the chance." Behind her, she heard Zhaan murmur in agreement.
She had just reached for her comm when a voice floated over from the booth next to them. "Hey. We don't like having your kind around here." She turned to see a hostile-looking biped glaring at them from behind a table. He used his only arm to gesture towards Zhaan, then farther ahead to D'Argo. "I ain't gonna give you any trouble, but a lot of merchants around here might. Just a warning, you hear?"
She and Zhaan exchanged a worried look. Sighing resignedly, Zhaan said, "Perhaps it would be best if D'Argo and I returned to Moya, Aeryn. Will you and John be all right here on your own?"
Aeryn raised an eyebrow and simultaneously they turned to observe Crichton. He stood at the booth across from them, poking inquisitively at a Farblek. The small, hairless creature reared back and bared its tiny fangs at him, which just amused John further. Reaching out again, he started rubbing it between its ears. The Farblek arched happily into the caress, clearly becoming attached to the human.
Aeryn took a step forward, intent on intervening before they wound up with a new crewmate. Thankfully, D'Argo walked over and pulled Crichton aside, explaining that Farbleks generally doubled their size and weight--as well as the potency of the poison in their fangs--every weeken for the first three monens of life.
"How old is this one?"
"Probably about two weekens." Crichton's eyes widened, and with one last pat on the head, he walked away from the Farblek to examine some native flowers in the adjoining booth.
Aeryn sighed. Three days alone on a commerce planet with Crichton. Well, there were more dangerous things in the Uncharted Territories. Not that she could think of any at the moment... But really, what choice did she have? She turned back to Zhaan. "Yes, Zhaan, we'll be fine. I'll contact you when we have everything, then D'Argo can come after us."
She waved discreetly to D'Argo. As soon as he rejoined them, she and Zhaan informed him of the merchant's warning. "We'll be on our way, then," he agreed. With a nod, they departed.
******
John was inspecting a display of small knives when Aeryn appeared at his side. She had just started to say something when suddenly, he sneezed. "'Scuse me. Wow, I don't know where that came from. Must be allergic to one of those plants or something." Aeryn grabbed his arm and led him away from the booth, quickly detailing the confrontation with the merchant and the abrupt departure of their crewmates.
As he listened to her explain their predicament, he couldn't help but smile. "So it's just you and me? For three days? Here, alone, with no chaperons?" Aeryn glared. John continued to grin wickedly at her, but his lecherous smirk was ruined as he sneezed again. "Excuse me! Again! Sheesh, what is it with this place?"
Aeryn turned on her heel and started to walk away. "Let's go, Crichton. We have a lot to do in the next three days; we need to get started," she called over her shoulder. John stared after her for a moment, still not able to believe his luck. Suddenly his brow creased, and he put a hand to his forehead. Great. Hell of a time to get a headache. His disgusted grunt was punctuated by yet another sneeze.
He caught up with Aeryn a few booths later. She was examining an assortment of fresh meat, no doubt comparison-shopping for what they would take back to Moya with them. One look at the display sent his stomach reeling. He gulped, his eyes widening. "Aeryn? I don't feel so good."
Aeryn stopped and looked at him closely, worry creasing her brow. "You don't look well," she concurred. "Come on, we need to find lodging, anyway." John stumbled along behind her as they made their way through the market. With every step his head pounded louder. Fighting dizziness, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, concentrating intensely on not losing sight of Aeryn's long braid.
******
After a short walk they arrived at the small boarding house across the square from the main market. John leaned heavily against the counter as Aeryn called for the proprietor. A tiny humanoid with light green skin appeared from the back room. Aeryn nodded politely. "Yes, we were told we could find lodging here."
The proprietor grinned broadly, obviously anxious to do business. "Aaaah, a lovely room for a lovely couple. I have just the place." Aeryn immediately opened her mouth to correct him when she realized John had not made his usual witty comeback. Her concern intensified when a quick glance in his direction confirmed that he was struggling to remain upright. She leaned closer, noting that his eyes were watery and his face was flushed. Something niggled at the back of her mind, something familiar about his symptoms... Suddenly realizing that she was staring at John and ignoring the proprietor completely, she immediately pushed the thoughts aside with a silent rebuke for allowing herself to be distracted.
When she turned back to the proprietor, she found that he, too, was looking at John, his forehead furrowed in concern. Deciding it would be unwise to draw more attention to themselves by asking for two rooms, Aeryn quickly smiled. "Yes, thank you. I'm sure it will be wonderful." The transaction was easily concluded, and Aeryn grabbed John's arm to help him up the stairs. She stopped at the third door and pushed it open. Thankfully they weren't any farther down the hall; she was practically carrying the human as it was.
Making her way to the low bed against the wall, she pushed John unceremoniously towards it. He sat down heavily, and she stood in front of him. With one hand under his chin, she lifted his head to feel his cheeks and forehead. Her frown deepened. If he had been Sebacean, his body temperature would have put him well into the middle stages of Heat Delirium. If that wasn't enough, his eyes had become unfocused and his face was still flushed. Was it possible...? "Take off your shirt," she commanded.
Wincing slightly, John smiled. "Gee, darlin', you sure have rotten timing."
Aeryn snorted and dropped his chin, moving towards the water basin in the opposite corner of the small room. "Just do it, Crichton." She quickly prepared a cool, damp cloth, and walked back to the bed just as John finally succeeded in pulling his t-shirt over his head.
Her face fell when the first glimpse of bare skin was revealed. Angry red welts covered most of his chest and back, confirming her worst suspicions. "Phoxine's," she said unbelievingly. "You have Phoxine's Disease." She placed the cloth on his forehead and slowly pushed him down until he was lying on the bed. She turned away and began to rummage through the small closet, looking for more towels or something else she could use to cool him off.
John glanced down at himself, then with an exhausted groan, pulled the cloth over his eyes. "Phoxine? Izzat anythin' like Chicken Pox? 'Cause I had 'em when I was five, an' I don' think you're s'posed to get 'em more'n once."
Frustrated, Aeryn gave up and grabbed John's discarded t-shirt, wadding it up as she returned to the basin. He was losing what little coherent speech he had to begin with. "I have no idea what kind of disease humans catch from birds, Crichton--"
"No, it's--ne'er mind."
Aeryn continued, ignoring his interruption without even turning around. "Phoxine's Disease, however, is relatively common. Because of the high fever it causes, Sebaceans are fully inoculated against it as children. But apparently, humans are susceptible."
Squeezing the excess water out of the shirt, she turned back to the bed, only to find Crichton sound asleep. Carefully she spread the damp material over his chest, trying to remember all she could about the illness.
High fevers, causing delusions and, eventually, Heat Delirium. Well, that was one thing she wouldn't have to worry about. However, she imagined high fevers were dangerous for any species. Mild cases of Phoxine's Disease resulted in fatigue and loss of coordination, at the very least. There was more, she knew, but she couldn't remember it all. She couldn't even remember what caused it. She had no idea how to treat a Sebacean with Phoxine's, much less a sick human. Zhaan was the closest thing to an expert they had, but there was no way she could come back on planet. And, judging by what she could see through the small window next to the bed, the communications blackout was well underway.
Gently lowering herself to sit on the bed next to John, Aeryn sighed, wondering what she should do next.
The problem was solved for her about forty-five minutes later when Crichton's moaning woke her from a light sleep. Aeryn raised her head to look about the room in disorientation.
Well, they weren't on Moya, that was for sure. Oh, right: commerce planet, supplies, D'Argo and Zhaan leaving her and the now Phoxine-infected Crichton planetside for three days.
Speaking of Crichton, he was shivering worse than he would have had he been shoved out of an airlock without a suit, she noticed, craning her neck around to glance at him. She felt a twinge of worry at the sight of his shirtless and blanketless form curled into a tight ball on the other side of the bed.
"Crichton...Crichton...John, wake up!" she said trying to get him to sit up and put on his now-dry shirt.
"Don' wanna go school. 'm sick!" he moaned, turning away from her and pulling the pillow over his head. Aeryn sighed in frustration, wondering how he could drive her insane even when unconscious.
Scooting closer to him, she grasped his shoulder and drew him into a sitting position. "John, come on, you have to sit up and get into this shirt," Aeryn said insistently, a bit frightened at his total lack of coherency.
Finally, with a lot of effort keeping him upright on her part they got him into the shirt. John continued shivering fiercely, leaving Aeryn to stare at him in bewilderment after he curled back up under the blankets, which she had tucked snugly around him. What was she supposed to do now? It was very late and the manager was probably asleep, so she couldn't very well go asking for extra blankets.
Suddenly inspiration struck in the form of a memory from their time in the flax. When they'd been freezing their butts off, as he'd put it, right before their... *Bout with too much pure oxygen,* she finished, cutting off that dangerous train of thought. He'd muttered something about staying warm by sharing body heat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With an involuntary shudder, John Crichton jerked awake.
Squinting against the glare of the sun, he sat up and looked around. A beach. He was on a beach. A wonderfully beautiful, isolated, tropical beach, from the looks of it. Tall cliffs flanked it on both sides, while the smooth sand curved in front of him, meeting the crystal blue water about ten yards away. He swiveled his head around, noting the line of dense palm trees about five yards behind him. He didn't recognize the beach, but found it comfortingly familiar.
*This isn't right,* a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him.
It was quickly followed by a louder voice. *Not a problem.*
Stretching slightly, he got to his feet and wandered towards the water. His bare feet sifted through the sand--which was odd, considering he could have sworn he was wearing shoes... He looked down to see he was dressed in navy blue swim trunks and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The shirt looked familiar, but he honestly couldn't remember owning one like it. And he certainly didn't have one with him on Moya. His brow furrowed. Where had that thought come from?
*This isn't _right_,* the tiny voice reminded him.
*Just go with it,* the louder voice admonished.
For a brief moment, John wondered if he was dreaming. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of anywhere else he was supposed to be. He glanced around again, feeling strangely disconnected from everything around him. Suddenly chilled, he hugged his shirt around him, then quickly buttoned it with his shaking fingers. It didn't help. Hurrying back to the blanket--*Blanket?*--he dropped down and hugged his knees to his chest, trying to get warm.
After a few moments, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He lifted his head to see Aeryn walking towards him.
*What's she doing here?*
*No big deal.*
She smiled as she approached him. John smiled back, his chills momentarily forgotten. She was wearing a simple black tank suit and a sheer cover-up that reached mid-thigh. It was open, as his shirt had been, but she didn't seem to be cold. She dropped down next to him on an identical towel.
*That wasn't there before.*
*Who cares?*
As Aeryn reclined on her back, John's eyes traveled over her and he found himself agreeing with the second voice. Who cares, indeed?
His thoughts were interrupted as he shivered again. Aeryn rolled to her side, looking concerned. Sitting up, she said something he couldn't hear. At the moment, he was too cold to question it.
Shrugging out of her cover-up, Aeryn draped it around him. He could have sworn the material was too light and gauzy to make a difference, but as he snuggled deeper into it, John suddenly found it to be incredibly heavy and warm. Pulling him to her, Aeryn wrapped her arms around him and drew him down to lay beside her. Enveloped in her embrace, her warmth spreading over him, his eyes drifted closed and he once more fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Aeryn...Aeryn!" a voice over the comms crackled. Aeryn's eyes flew open and she had to immediately close them again to protect them against the harsh sunlight streaming in through the window. "Zhaan?" she said, opening them again slowly. Her eyes widened abruptly as she noticed the way she and Crichton were wrapped around each other--his arm thrown across her waist, one of her legs between his, her head tucked under his chin.
"Yes, Aeryn. It's been daylight there for several hours, and we were just wondering why you had not contacted us. Is anything the matter?"
"Zhaan, Crichton's gotten Phoxine's!"
"Gee, Aer'n, I'd no dea you thought I was foxy! Is tha why you can' keep your hands offa me?" John's bemused voice slurred two inches from her ear. Aeryn's answering glare would have been enough to silence a Luxan in full hyper-rage but John just grinned at her cheekily from his flushed face. The fever was back.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
John had shut up quickly at the murderous look his comment earned from Aeryn. If it had been any other time he would have enjoyed baiting her, but between the burning sensation that fired his skin and the pounding headache it was easier and far more comfortable to sit back, close his eyes and listen to the conversation. Maybe it would help clear the path from his brain to his mouth of whatever it was that was making him so garbled.
"Aeryn, you'll need to go back to the market. Get some Calem Root cream and some Cana tea. The root should alleviate some of the burning from the sores and the Cana..."
"I know what Cana tea does, Zhaan." Aeryn's voice still sounded annoyed. "This is great."
John truly hated feeling sick, and the sarcastic bite Aeryn's last words held didn't make him feel any better. Rolling onto his side, he pulled his knees to his chest.
"Aeryn, do you want us to come down and get John?" Zhaan's voice was calm and soothing.
John laid there, his body curled into itself, almost scared to breathe as he waited for Aeryn to answer Zhaan. While part of him wanted to go back to Moya, to be in his own bed and not be such a burden to Aeryn, he had to admit, part of him just wanted Aeryn--wanted her to want to take care of him.
"No, Zhaan. I can handle this. No need to cause any other problems."
John could hear the resignation in her voice, and he knew she was doing this more out of obligation than any desire to help him. Rolling over, he flipped his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "'M fine, Aeryn. I can take care of m'self. I'm a big boy now--don't need a mommy. Go do whatever we still hafta to do here. I'm *fine*." He tried for strong, calm, and reassuring--but he'd been unable to keep the bitterness and the pain of rejection from his voice. Turning his back on her, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door, then slid down the wall to the cool, soothing tile.
After a few minutes he heard the door slam and knew he was alone. Only then did he stop trying to fight the tears. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but right now, he just wished there was one person he could truly count on.
His mind drifted to how wonderful it had been, despite his symptoms, to wake up in Aeryn's arms. It had been comforting. He'd felt safe, and like someone had cared, and that had made everything else--the headache, the nausea, the burning skin--endurable.
Pulling himself up on anything that could support his weight, John began to cautiously make his way back to the bed. Once there, he got rid of as much clothing has he could in a vain attempt to cool off, but finally gave up. He dropped down and curled himself back into a fetal position. Closing his eyes, he prayed for sleep, prayed to return to his dream of the beach and someone to hold him and ease away the pain.
******
No matter how she tried, Aeryn couldn't get the sight of John curled up on the bed out of her mind. He looked so vulnerable and sad. Every time the image popped into her mind, she could feel the muscles in her neck and chest contract. She'd stood there watching him, fighting the urge to comfort him.
He's fine. He can take care of himself, she forcefully reminded herself. Focus on the task. Aeryn continued walking through the market place, purchasing supplies and making arrangements for their delivery.
The image of John curled on the bed popped into her head again, this time as she passed a booth displaying various herbs. Stopping, she purchased the required cream and tea.
Once she reached the hotel, she climbed the stairs quickly, stopping only when she reached the door. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to face John, whom she was sure would be annoyed at her interference. He'd probably think it was just one more example of her thinking he couldn't even take care of himself.
Opening the door, she strolled in, casually tossing the bag on the nearest chair. "John, I brought..."
Her words fell off as she caught sight of him curled on the bed, his body wracked by small tremors.
"John?" Her voice was slightly hushed as she walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed. Closer to him now, Aeryn could see the barely-faded tracks of tears that had run down his face. Slowly, she reached out and gently stroked her fingers through his soft hair. "Oh, John," she whispered. She had obviously misjudged him again. He might have been capable of taking care of himself, but obviously, he had wished for something to help him, or maybe just someone.
Her heart sank as she remembered how John had hovered over her when she'd been stabbed. What was it he'd said to her?
*"I know you can take care of yourself, Aeryn. But I want to help--it's what you do when you care about someone."*
"I'm sorry, John," she whispered, her fingers still stroking through his hair.
"Aeryn," John mumbled.
"I'm here, John. I brought the tea and cream." She rose from her perch on the bed and grabbed the bag from the chair. Quickly, she grabbed a cup and filled it with hot water from a wall dispenser, then set it on the dressing table. Placing some tea leaves in the cup, she let it steep while she walked back to John with the cream.
Opening the cream jar, she set it beside him on the bed, then pulled down the blankets that covered his shaking frame. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, Aeryn began to gently massage the analgesic cream into John's burning skin. She studied him, the tightness of his muscles and the sensation of them relaxing beneath her touch. She loved the solid feel of his chest and the way it tapered down to his waist. With each touch, she felt her own body respond--the tightness of her abdomen, the warmth that coursed through her.
Pushing the covers further aside, she repeated the cream application to his legs, trying desperately to ignore the area above his thighs. Finished, she quickly re-covered him and turned to cover the jar, only to find him staring at her--wide awake.
"Thanks, Aeryn." His voice was soft, gentle, warm. He smiled slightly at her, but she could still see some remnant of fear, sadness and loneliness in his eyes.
Smiling back at him, she rose from the bed. Walking to the table, she strained the tea leaves from the hot liquid and carried it back to John.
"Drink this. It will help with the fever and some of the pain."
John looked at it warily, sniffing it a bit, before looking back up at her questioningly. Shrugging his shoulders, he pinched his nose and chugged the tea.
"UGHHHHH! That's awful!" he cried, his face contorting. Handing her back the cup, he slouched down into the blankets and curled up again, shivering.
Aeryn sat with him for a few moments, alternating between stroking his hair and drawing what she hoped to be soothing designs on his back. When she was sure he was sleeping, she pulled away.
"Aeryn? Don't go, please," his half-asleep whisper pleaded.
Sitting in the chair, Aeryn pulled off her boots then walked back to the bed. She climbed in beside John, wrapping her arms about him. "I'm right here, John. I'm not going anywhere."
She felt him grasp onto her arm as he relaxed into sleep. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she settled herself in for what she suspected would be a long night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
John opened his eyes to bright sunlight peeking over the top of the blanket. He was still wrapped in Aeryn's arms, the heavy blanket draped over them both. Pushing at the heavy material with his chin, he lifted his head and looked around.
The beach again. It still didn't seem right, but it didn't bother him as much now. This place was familiar; comfortable. However, he immediately realized that the temperature was anything but comfortable. The sun was beating down on them, making him hot, too hot. He pushed at the blanket, suddenly startled to find that it was once again Aeryn's cover-up.
*Or is it?* asked the little voice.
*It kept you warm, so what's the big deal?*
Great. Back at the beach, back to the War of the Internal Voices. John shook his head slightly, wondering why it mattered. Something wasn't right, that he was sure of--he just wasn't sure if he cared.
With a sigh, he carefully untangled himself from Aeryn's arms and sat up. She murmured softly and rolled to her back. He studied her intently, worried about the temperature. The heat was intense, even for a Florida-boy like him, but she seemed fine. She wasn't even sweating. Reaching over, he loosely draped the light material over her to protect her from blazing sun. The least he could do was protect her from a sunburn.
Pushing himself to his feet, he stretched, then reached down and unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it off and dropped it onto the blanket behind him. No good. He was still too hot. How could he have ever thought he was cold?
*Good question,* the little voice stated matter-of-factly.
*A better one would be, 'how am I going to cool off'?* chided the louder voice.
*And what exactly happened to make you warm?* demanded the first voice.
*Who cares, as long as it worked?*
John ignored the louder voice this time. What *had* happened to make him warm? He wrinkled his nose, suddenly acknowledging the horrible taste that lingered in his mouth. He could vaguely remember drinking something incredibly nasty. Whatever it had been, it hadn't been pleasant. On the other hand, he also remembered Aeryn giving him the best damn massage he'd ever had...
Suddenly even hotter than he had been a moment ago, John walked quickly to the edge of the beach where the clear waves lapped quietly against the sand. Time to listen to the second voice, he decided. He stuck his foot in the water experimentally, then waded in up to his knees. Unbelievable. The water was as warm as a jacuzzi.
*That's not right,* insisted the first voice.
*Deal with it.*
John shook his head and splashed back to the beach. Going for a swim wasn't going to help him cool down.
He had one more option. He turned away from the water and headed towards the trees. Something about them didn't seem quite right, but at least he could find some shade. He made it all the way across the small beach before he realized what was wrong. There *was* no shade. The sun was beating down from directly overhead, yet the trees cast no shadows on the beach. Darkness reigned a few feet past the bushes, but the thick row of prickly shrubbery deterred any thought of pushing past them with bare feet and legs.
Frustrated, John returned to the blankets. Aeryn was still sleeping soundly. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked down the beach. Nothing. He could try walking around the end of the cliff, but he didn't like the idea of leaving Aeryn alone for that long. Besides, maybe she had the right idea. Maybe he should just try to sleep a little.
*How will that help?*
*Go for it.*
With a sudden yawn, John gave in to the weariness that had suddenly settled over him. He laid back on the blanket, covering his chest with his shirt. Throwing his arm over his face to protect it from the blazing sun, he quickly fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hot. Too hot.
She didn't really want to move, but the heat was getting to be too much, too high. Her gut was warning her that something was wrong. It just wasn't her that was in danger. Her eyes snapped open and she fairly leapt over John, landing on the floor beside him.
"John, can you hear me?" she called as she stroked his face. It was too frelling hot, even for a human. She could feel the adrenaline surge throughout her body screaming at her to act.
Fighting back the fear, she forced herself to be rational, to think it through.
"John, open your eyes. Come on. Look at me. John?"
"Hot, Aeryn."
She heard his mumble as he turned toward her voice. Relief flooded her. He could still talk, and was responding to stimuli, so his systems had not yet begun to shut down--that is, if this heat did to him what it did at lesser levels to Sebaceans. Still, she had to cool him down, and fast.
Water! Cool water!
Jumping up, she went to the bath room and started the water in the shower-unit. She waited for a moment then tested the water, making sure it was not too cold. The last thing she needed was for him to go into shock.
Walking back into the bedroom, she quickly stripped out of her clothes, then pulled the covers off of John. Balancing him carefully, she pulled him from the bed and half-carried him to the shower.
"Come on, John, into the shower," she said, helping him into the unit.
"You too?" he managed to murmur, holding on to her while swaying into the tiny cubicle. Letting his weight pull her with him, Aeryn gasped as she went under the stream of cold water.
"That was the idea...but I'm having second thoughts with the way you're behaving."
"Am not behaving!" he insisted, not realizing what he was saying.
"See, even you agree with me."
She was glad when he didn't respond, not really feeling like getting into an argument with him while they were in the shower. She moved behind him and guided him to sit down, maneuvering him around until his back was leaning into her. John didn't give her a second to adjust to the cold tiles touching her back, leaning instantly into her with his full weight. She gasped.
"You enjoying this? I am," he whispered. Aeryn blinked, not even wanting to know what he was talking about. "Water, so good!" His head fell back onto her shoulder.
"Oh."
"You shoulda thought of this hours ago, Aeryn." She chided herself, silently agreeing that, for once, he was right. She should have. She reached up and felt the side of his face, and felt dismay at the heat which quickly penetrated her fingers. He was still far too hot. She frowned, realizing she didn't even know how much of the fever John could withstand.
"John, how much heat can a human endure?"
He was quiet and she hoped it was thinking that caused his silence, since he was being so still. "John?"
"Uh-huh... A hundred and four...or five. Over that and there's not much left of me, and it's check-out time." Aeryn forced herself to focus on the first part of his answer. The temperature... But 104? What was that in something she could understand?
"John, I don't understand. What type of measurement are you talking about?"
"Optimal plus sixteen, more'r less, I think it works out to."
Aeryn pressed her hand tightly into his forehead, trying to figure out for certain just how hot he was, but still could not determine it solely from touch. Their only scanner had gone back to the ship with Zhaan and D'Argo. The planet they were on had to have some kind of medical system, though. Maybe she could talk them into letting her borrow it? Sure, she would wait till John had cooled down a bit and walk to the nearest one... *Oh, I have a sick friend, may I borrow a scanner?* Sure, that would work... She realized what she had just thought. *Great, now I'm thinking like John. I wonder if there's something to being human that's contagious...* John chose that moment to speak up.
"And a smile that wouldn't wash away..."
He's going insane, Aeryn thought. "John, what are you doing?"
"Singin'," he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing to be doing. "We're in the shower, so I'm singing."
"Oh," Aeryn said.
"...You're so beautiful, isn't charming? So careful-when-I'm-in your arms..."
It had to be heat delirium. "John, I'm going to go find a scanner. I'm taking you out now."
"What? Don't like my singin'?"
"Your..." She paused, thinking. Like his singing? "Your singing is fine, I'm just worried about you."
"Because I'm singing?"
She ignored the question and helped him up. After struggling to keep him upright long enough to at least partly dry him and help him slip his pants back on, she finally managed to get him back to bed. She pressed her hand to his face one more time, then made up her mind to go find a scanner, or at least someone who could help.
"Aeryn, where're ya going?" John asked, suddenly noticing she was leaving. But before she could reply, heavy pounding at the door interrupted her. It sounded as if a whole commando team was outside the room, and very much wanted to get inside. Aeryn dove for her weapon.
With the pulse gun firmly in her hand and ready to fire, Aeryn quickly made her way to the door. She motioned for John to head into the bathroom in case a fire-fight became necessary. The human didn't move. Silently, Aeryn cursed him for his stupidity. Another round of pounding began. Reminded of the situation, Aeryn prepared to face any force waiting outside the room. She reached one hand out to open the door while the other gripped her weapon tighter. She took in a deep breath to ready herself.
"Who is it?" John suddenly asked her from the bed.
*What the hezmana does he think he's doing?! Trying to get us both killed?* John's voice had caused her to hesitate. Worse yet, whoever was outside now knew for sure that someone was in the room. The element of surprise was lost. Before she could regain her concentration, a voice from outside the door answered back.
"We are here to help you."
Deciding to actually ask questions first and shoot later, Aeryn moved her hand away from the door, but kept her weapon in her grasp. "Help us? How?"
A different voice answered this time. "We are sok'laths, and if we are not mistaken, you are in need of our services."
"Sok'laths..." Aeryn whispered in surprise.
"Soka-what?" John asked as he attempted to sit up, but failed miserably at it.
Aeryn turned her body slightly so that she could see both John and the door at the same time. "They are healers," she said softly, then directed her next words to the visitors. "If what they say is true."
"Healers?" John slurred.
"Yes," Aeryn hissed. She crept closer to the door, pulse gun still positioned to fire at anyone who made a sudden move. She lightly touched her hand to the pressure-sensitive panel beside the door, and it softly slid open.
In front of her, four tall, black-garbed figures stood utterly still, as if sensing that she would seriously harm them if they even twitched. Aeryn looked at them, noting that they appeared unarmed, although the long, thickly-lined cloaks they wore could conceivably conceal a weapon nearly as large as her pulse rifle. She found herself wishing that she could see their faces better.
After a silence between them that lasted for several long moments, Aeryn asked, "Can you help us?"
The tallest one, whom she took to be the leader of the little band, answered quietly, "Let us see him."
Aeryn scrutinized them for a second longer, then nodded sharply. She backed the few steps toward John's bed, not letting the four sok'laths out of her sight. Once they reached the bed, she stood a few feet away. Her pulse gun was pointed down to the floor, but other than that, she made no concession of good will to the four strangers.
She could just see pale, thin faces under the hoods of the black cloaks the four healers wore. They stood by the bed, two on each side, their hands positioned a few inches in the air above John's form.
Aeryn had no idea what they were doing, and remained on guard, especially since John had fallen either asleep or unconscious since she had gone to answer the door.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the leader turned to her. "The fever must be broken within the next hour, or he will die. His body is not made to handle such high temperatures."
"Tell me something I don't know," Aeryn replied. She was instantly mortified to find herself using one of Crichton's human expressions.
The sok'laths didn't seem to notice or care. "We can prepare a potion for him," the one female of the group said. "It works on Sebaceans approximately ninety percent of the time."
"But with his unique physiology, there is no telling whether it will work," another broke in before Aeryn had a chance to respond.
She stared at them for a minute, almost all traces of her former suspicion gone, replaced by a deep fear for John's life. Finally, she asked, "Will this potion hurt him in any way?" She had no intention of making the illness worse.
The lead sok'lath considered for a moment, then said, "No. If it does not break the fever, it will have no effect."
Aeryn allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief.
The final sok'lath produced a small, blue vial. He--Aeryn thought it was a he--stepped over to her and held the glass bottle in his outstretched hand. Carefully, she took it, fingering the smoothness of the glass and the roughness of the substance sealing it.
"What do you want in return?"
The sok'laths looked at her in what might have passed for surprise. "We ask nothing in return," the leader said. "Our only purpose is to help." With that, they turned abruptly and left the room. Aeryn watched them go, too astonished to even call out her thanks to their retreating backs.
Several moments passed while Aeryn stood beside John's bed, contemplating the vial in her hand and the mysterious healers who had given it to her--to them. She was broken from her trance only when John moaned softly. In between the unintelligible mumblings, she thought she heard her name.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With a start, John snapped awake. Something was wrong. He reached his hand out to his side, slowly at first, then desperately.
Aeryn. Aeryn was gone.
Sitting up, he looked around anxiously, immediately catching sight of her. However, he was anything but reassured by what he saw. She was walking towards the cliff, across the stretch of sand where he had first seen her. And she wasn't alone. On either side, tall, shapeless figures shrouded in black surrounded her.
*Where is she going? What are those things? What's going on, dammit???*
*She'll be fine. So will you. Don't worry.*
To hell with the second voice, John thought wildly. Struggling to his feet, he called out to her. "Aeryn! Wait up!"
She didn't even turn around. She just kept walking; walking away from him. Foregoing the blanket and his shirt, he started after her. Something held him in place, not allowing him to follow. His heart beat faster as he felt the panic rise up inside him. "Aeryn! Please, Aeryn, what's--" John watched, helpless, as she disappeared around the corner of the cliff.
Suddenly the force that held him in place released, and with it went all of his energy. He slumped down on the blanket, darkness crowding the edge of his vision. With one last effort, he called her name again as the blackness overcame him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For an arn after she'd given John the medicine, Aeryn was on pins and needles. If John worsened, she knew there would be nothing she could do to save him. All she could do was wait and hope the healers had managed to help him.
The minutes passed, and despite herself, Aeryn began to get restless. She tried everything to keep from worrying--or, at least, to keep from admitting to herself that she was worried--up to and including staring out the window, thinking over old battle strategies, and pacing restlessly.
She became so lost in thought that she didn't hear him the first time he said her name.
"Aeryn?" John repeated hoarsely. *God, I feel like dren,* he thought blearily.
"Crichton!" Aeryn said, a little louder than she would have liked. Taking a breath, she pulled her traitorous emotions under control. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got trampled by a steamroller. You?"
Aeryn blinked, but decided not to question Crichton on how steam could trample him. "I am not ill," she pointed out reasonably. "If you're feeling better, we should get back to Moya. Communications should be open now."
John didn't answer, instead moving to pull on his shirt as Aeryn searched for a communicator. As he listened to her conversation with D'Argo, tried to remember exactly what had happened to him, but his memory of the preceding days was hazy. He remembered Aeryn saying something about healers...
"Crichton. Crichton!" Aeryn cut in. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said, standing slowly. Aeryn took his arm and helped him out of the room, refusing to catch his eye as she let intuition take over.
******
"I believe the virus has mutated to something else, something that can't harm him, or that he is immune to," Zhaan explained. "A few days of rest and he will be fine."
Aeryn nodded and thanked Zhaan quietly before stepping into John's room. "Hey," she said softly. John glanced at her, then quickly looked away.
"Hey."
Aeryn's mind flipped back to a conversation they'd once had. "Hey," she said deliberately.
John turned to face her, a faint smile crossing his face as the memory surfaced for him, too. "Thanks," he said simply, before turning back to stare out at the stars.
Aeryn was silent for a moment. "You're welcome," she answered. She turned and walked out. Alone, John smiled to himself before following.
End