Penelope's Bed

by Shaye

DISCLAIMER:  Farscape is the genius of Henson, O'Bannon, Sci-Fi &etc.  The
Odyssey is public domain, so nyah.

SUMMARY:  Aeryn is sleeping with another man.  Interlude to "The Locket."

SPOILERS:  The Locket, obviously; also The Flax and AHR.  Hail Monjo!  Oh,
and TWWW.  Let's face it, it's The Shippiness Greatest Hits Collection.

RATING:  Go with a safe PG-13, though it's probably not even.

ARCHIVING:  Same old, same old.  I'll email copies when I'm satisfied with
the format--if you're not on my little list, just ask.

NOTES:  Shortly after The Locket aired, the lovely Sarah Wait made the evil
suggestion that I write an Aeryn piece as a companion to "I Will Not Sleep,"
my evil John-stays-with-Katralla Look at the Princess fic, courtesy of
Matchbox 20's song "Bed of Lies."  Well, my response was basically 'hell
no,' but the suggestion did get the ball rolling on this one.  It turned
into something else, but don't they always?

~*~

"I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:  Penelope did this
too."  ~Edna St. Vincent Millay, "An Ancient Gesture"

---

Wrapped in the darkness of night, this bed seems impossibly huge.  During
the day, it's ordinary enough, but I feel lost in it when I am expected to
sleep in it.  Sleep in it with my husband.  It's the cold season on the
Favoured Planet, but I cannot bring myself to huddle next to him for warmth.
Instead I'm curled on the edge of this large bed, and though he sleeps close
enough to reach out and touch, I have never felt more alone.

Sometimes I ask myself why I ever married him.  It's not that I hate him, of
course.  I feel a great deal of affection for him, and he genuinely seems to
love me.  But I suppose that it's not because I love him so much as that, in
a small way, he reminds me of every man I've loved.

He has John's smile.

And Velorek's hands.

In the daylight, these things warm my heart and draw me to him.  At night,
it's not enough.  I think I know why--during the day, I see John's smile.
But in the dark, I feel Velorek's hands.

There is moonlight coming in through the bedroom window.  I can see my
breath it's so cold; we don't have a fireplace in this room.  Perhaps I'll
see about that.  No matter how cold it gets, however, I know that I will
stay where I am.  It's better this way.

Many years ago now, John told me a fable from Earth.  He'd made some comment
about feeling like Ulysses trying to find his home, only he didn't have a
Penelope waiting for him.  Though I'll never know why, for some reason I
actually asked him what he meant.  He told me he was referring to a story
everyone read in school, about a man who, like John, met many challenges in
his journey home.  The challenges were laughable, really, but not much more
fantastic than what John had faced.

He also told me about Ulysses' wife, about how she waited for her husband
and refused to marry again.  Apparently this woman had very bad eyesight,
because the only way she could be sure it was her husband was that he knew
the secret of their marriage bed, which was carved out of a tree.  (I know
I'm forgetting details, but they are, after all, irrelevant.)  John had
laughed, and said he was glad he didn't have a Penelope on Earth, that it
was stupid anyway.  He had commented that he'd want his Penelope to move on,
to live her life.  And that he'd never understood what was so frelling
important about the marriage bed anyway.

From where I lay, the marriage bed looks pretty frelling important.  And
though I can't bring myself to touch him, I did what John would have wanted.
Though John will always be the great love of my life, I brought someone else
into my bed.

*

It's even colder outside than it was in the bedroom.  But I couldn't sleep,
and after a while the room started to feel oppressive.  I know my life has
changed greatly; I never used to feel oppressed by even the smallest spaces.
Now, I find I start to panic if I'm indoors too long.

My clothing is warm, but the air stings my face.  It's a short walk to the
top of the hill, to a clearing in the woods that has become one of my
favorite places.  It looks over many of the trees I have planted, and for a
moment my heart swells at the work of my hands, no longer used for
destructive purposes.  The feeling quickly fades as I remember why I'm here.

Sometimes I look at the sky and wonder what barriers of time and space
managed to separate John and I.  The night sky is foreign here; there are no
stars.  I know it's because the mist surrounds us and blocks everything but
our sun, but I cannot help but be reminded of the time John and I were
caught in the Flax.  This, however, <is> different.  Then, we were both left
with no way out.  Now, I am left with nowhere to go but forward.

If I were allowed to go backward, just for a moment, I know where I would
go.  I shared a bed with John Crichton only once, and I would like to be in
that moment again, with the moonlight on 'Earth' streaming in through the
curtains.  That bed was so different from the one I sleep in now.

I know I should go back to the house.  The temperature is dropping even
further, as it seems to just before daybreak here.  Soon, the sun will come
up, and I'll be imagining John's smile once again.

I should mention, there is something else about this woman Penelope that
gives me hope.  

Eventually, her true love returned.

FINIS