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Rating: R
Setting: Post-Fractures (no final four input)
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, no money is being made, and I don’t think I’ve done them any damage. <g>
This is a companion piece to “Body Heat,” the same story from Aeryn’s point of view. I blame it on Wiscaper, who suggested I do it, and didn’t let me get out of it when I said, “But she’s unconscious except for the sex!” Many thanks to my beta readers, Imloco2, Shipscat, Atana_Mirtai, huzzlewhat, Tazey and my husband, and to everyone else who read this.
*John is not going to die like this,* she thought. He was not going to die at all if she had anything to say about it. She’d watched him die once, helpless to prevent it. This time, his life was rather literally in her hands.
Aeryn pulled hard on the controls as the damaged pod lurched to the right.
“Can you get me any more power?” she yelled over the whistling of the atmosphere and the whine of the engines.
In the back of the pod, John yanked on a cable and twisted two wires together, pulling his fingers back as sparks flew. He yelled back, "Does that help?"
The bucking of the pod stabilized somewhat as the wounded craft responded to her efforts, and she hollered, “Yes, better!”
When the ship lurched to the left this time, nearly jerking the controls out of her hands, John came back up to the front. “That’s it, that was my last option,” he grunted, falling into the copilot’s seat.
Aeryn looked at the weather front they were moving into as they dropped like a stone. The pod had nearly no power, and definitely no lift, and she could see nothing beneath the dark clouds they were entering. “What’s our altitude?” she asked, sparing John a brief glance.
John grunted again, tapped the gauge in front of him, and said, “I’ve got no idea. This thing’s busted, and I can’t see a damn thing in this pea soup!”
“Strap yourself in,” Aeryn ordered. “I have no idea how much warning we’re going to get before we hit the ground!” And you are not going to die, she thought again.
As they plunged through the massive storm, the only sound in the pod was that of the atmosphere whistling through the tiny cracks the pod had suffered when they had been hit by the shock wave from some kind of detonation. Weapon, natural phenomenon, intentional, accidental, they had no idea. All they knew was, the ship was mortally wounded, and they were plunging towards an unknown planet somewhere beneath them.
“Ah, hell, Aeryn,” John shouted suddenly, “those are trees!”
“I see them,” she snapped, desperately trying to level off.
They were bounced side to side and thrown against their restraints as the ship jerked along, bouncing off of branches large and small with a series of slapping impacts.
“We’re going to land soon,” she warned sharply, and John braced for the shock.
Aeryn heard John grunt as air was forced out of his lungs when the ship made a sudden downwards lurch into a clearing in the trees. Her own stomach wasn’t very happy with the buffeting, but she ignored the distractions, focusing on getting them down the last little way in one piece.
The pod hit the ground with a thud and then twisted around 90 degrees. They ended up in a disorienting slow-motion sideways skid along the ground.
It was out of her hands now. All she could do was hope the pod didn’t roll. She glanced at John, saw that he was looking at her….and then the ship slammed against something large and solid and came to a stop with a tremendous wrench and the shriek of rending metal.
For a moment they both sat as they were, strapped in their seats, the wind knocked out of them, and let the noise of the crash die down. When the only sounds left in the pod were their labored breathing and the pelting of the rain on the roof, they turned and looked at each other.
John broke into a big grin, and gasped, “Good God! Where did you learn to fly like that?”
Aeryn smiled back at him and allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction that they were both still alive.
But when the crackling sound of flames joined the rain, she jerked her seat belt free and smacked John on the shoulder.
“Come *on,*” she told him. “We have to get out of here *now*!”
Sobering, John nodded, and started fumbling with his belt.
Trusting that he would be right behind her, Aeryn started towards the door, praying there was power to open it, praying that it wasn’t blocked by trees or rocks or anything else that shouldn’t be in front of the door of a ship. Her sigh of relief as the stairs lowered was cut off as she realized that John wasn’t there, and the pod was filling up with acrid smoke.
No. No, no, no, he was not going to die on this ship, not when they were so close to safety. The fact that he hadn’t called out for help scared her to death.
Aeryn took a deep breath of cold, wet air from the doorway, and plunged back into the ship, heading for the copilot’s seat in front. To her relief, John was still conscious and the flames were still some distance away from him. He’d pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and mouth as a make-shift breathing mask, and appeared to be struggling with the belt. As she reached him, she saw he had Winona out and was aiming the pulse pistol at the seat belt, trying to hit it from underneath.
“John, wait!” she said, heart in her throat. He’d surely injure himself with the blast if he tried that.
He coughed and looked up at her, something near panic visible in his eyes, which were all that she could see of his face. She hoped he couldn’t see the fear in hers.
“Let me try!” Aeryn said, reaching for the belt.
John pulled Winona out of the way as Aeryn tugged on the release. When it didn’t come loose, she rapidly unsheathed the knife she kept attached to her belt.
“Hold still,” she told him, knife blade flashing towards the restraints.
He didn’t bother to answer, just closed his eyes and waited for her to cut him free.
Aeryn’s blade parted the belt swiftly, and she could feel her panic subsiding, to be replaced with more manageable concerns of just getting out of there with all due speed.
Without waiting for him to get up, she hauled John to his feet and jerked him a metra or so towards the door. He stumbled, and she grabbed him, fingers touching soft bare skin over hard muscles where his t-shirt was still partially pulled up.
Looking at his face, Aeryn saw the trust in his eyes, and she couldn’t help herself – She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, savoring the taste of his mouth for as long as she dared, which wasn’t very long under the circumstances. He hadn’t even had time to react when she pulled away and grabbed his hand.
“This way,” she said urgently, dragging him towards the door, and he allowed himself to be led across the pod. At the door, she pushed him out ahead of her. “Go. Now!” she insisted, and took a quick look behind her. Most of the interior was burning now, not a roaring fire yet, but small flames licking through the entire pod. It was going to be a total loss, and she didn’t think it was wise to go back to try to retrieve anything.
John scrambled down the stairs into an icy rainstorm, and Aeryn followed quickly. At the bottom, she hissed, “Hurry! We can’t stay here.”
Coughing, John looked at the ruined pod and agreed. “Yeah, the fuel’s likely to go up any time.” He looked around briefly, assessing what they could see of the environment.
The pod had wrapped itself around a boulder at the edge of a small clearing in what appeared to be a forest. John and Aeryn exchanged looks. Simultaneously, they took off in the direction that had the longest clear path, which happened to be straight out from the foot of the stairs. They rushed about 50 metras away from the pod, slipping and sliding in the wet grasses and natural litter of the meadow, then skidded to a halt together near a stand of tall trees that afforded some slight shelter from the rain.
They stopped there, catching their breath, and turned to watch the pod burn, both grateful to be alive. What the Hezmana they were going to do now was another matter. They had nothing with them except their gunbelts, not even their coats. The rain dripped through the trees and dropped down on them despite the leaves.
After a few microts, Aeryn could feel John’s gaze on her. She looked up at him. He was wondering what that kiss had meant, she knew, but they didn’t have time to get into that now. She wasn’t sure *she* knew what it meant, but she knew she didn’t regret it. And if he touched her, she was afraid they’d get into something *else* they didn’t have time for…
“Why the frell didn’t you call me to help you?” she snapped.
“I thought I could handle it,” he said, which was a lie, and she knew it.
“You were trying to protect me,” she accused. “So I wouldn’t come back after you and get hurt.”
Before he could answer, the flames in the wreck reached the fuel, and the pod exploded in a huge fireball, shrapnel flying in every direction.
“Whoa, there goes the Death Star!” John exclaimed.
Aeryn didn’t bother to ask. “I think we’d better get well away from the wreck,” she said, shivering suddenly.
John looked down at her dripping hair. “Shouldn’t we stay here? This is going to be the first place D’Argo looks for us.”
She shook her head. “Yes, but it’s also the first place anyone else will look for us, if there *is* anyone else looking for us. We don’t know what hit us.” After a pause in which he acknowledged her point, she added, “We’ve got our comms, we should be able to contact D’Argo from anywhere.”
Aeryn shivered again, and John didn’t miss it. “Okay,” he said, “let’s see if we can find someplace to get you out of this rain.”
Like it wasn’t bothering him too. She snorted, but followed him further into the forest.
*************
The cold was beginning to take its toll on both of them. Aeryn could feel her body slowing down. She was grateful it was extreme cold, not heat, because at least she didn’t have to fear the living death, but she was afraid she might not make it through this one. Frelling dirt ball! Planets had no proper temperature regulation. There was something to be said for the controlled environment of the command carrier she had grown up on.
At least John seemed to be doing a little better than she was, and she guessed he knew that this was very bad for her. He kept insisting they keep moving, though that was taking them farther and farther from the wreck. He was clearly hoping that the exercise would help keep them warm. Unfortunately, the freezing rain continued to pelt them, negating any warmth they might have gotten from the physical exertion.
“Damn!” he said, stumbling over a root he apparently hadn’t seen. “There has *got* to be some kind of shelter around here!”
Aeryn ran into his back, not realizing he had stopped trudging. “There is no frelling shelter on this planet,” she snapped, taking her frustration out on him. “I thought you said this rain was going to stop!”
He turned to face her, and took hold of her upper arms. Squinting in the rain he told her, “It *does* have to stop sometime. But we don’t have any idea when. This could be real Noah’s Ark weather.” When she looked at him blankly he added, “Forty days and forty nights of rain.”
Was he trying to cheer her up? She had no idea if he was making a joke. She didn’t care. “Well if it is, we’re definitely going to be dead,” she told him.
She caught the glint of alarm in his eyes before he was able to hide it again. “No we’re not,” he told her, clearly based on nothing more tangible but his own desire that they survive. The man was impossible.
“Well, John,” she told him, laying it out for him, “I’m getting very cold, and I doubt you’re much warmer. This rain is icy cold, it’s showing no signs of stopping, and there doesn’t seem to be a thing on this frelling planet besides trees. I don’t know how you can say we’re not going to die.”
He looked so miserable at this pronouncement, she regretted it immediately. It wasn’t fair to take *his* hope away. And since when did *she* give up?
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “That’s just the cold talking. Let’s go. Maybe we can find a cave or something.” She shook his hands off her arms, and started out again, taking the lead this time.
The found a stream, fast-moving, but not too deep if their eyes could be trusted in the overcast. John suggested they should follow it in the downstream direction. “Civilization’s usually that way,” he told her. “At least on Earth. I haven’t actually had to test that theory here in the UTs…”
Aeryn looked at him through narrowed eyes and considered. Well perhaps he was right. At least they wouldn’t be wandering in circles. She grunted her agreement, and led them along the side of the stream. She suspected John was happy with the arrangement because if he was following her, he knew where she was at all times. Even now, after everything that had happened, he was still so protective of her…. She smiled faintly to herself, careful to make her expression more neutral whenever she turned around briefly to see that he was following.
The cold was sapping her energy and making her clumsy, but she tried to hide it by bulling on ahead as fast as she could. That meant more frequent checks to make sure John was close behind her, and it finally caught up with her. With her head turned and her eyes on John, she stepped into a muddy puddle, turning her ankle and throwing herself totally off balance.
John reached for her, but wasn’t quite close enough to snatch hold of anything, hair, clothing, arm, hand.... As she fell headfirst into the icy stream, she heard his voice screaming her name.
The shock of plunging into the ice-cold water brought memories of her death vividly to mind, and she felt the edge of panic creeping into her mind. Frell! This was *not* the same kind of situation! She shoved the memories away and struggled to orient herself and get her face above water. There. Her feet touched the bottom. She pushed with them, and her head broke the surface easily. The water couldn’t be more than two metras deep, probably less.
She could hear John’s panicked voice once again and tried to see where he was.
“Aeryn!” he screamed, scrambling alongside the bank. “Baby, I’m coming! I’m coming!”
She had neither time nor energy to waste replying. She could feel the current shoving her, but not too strongly. It was too much to allow her simply to stand up and walk out, but if she could stay near the bank, she should be able to get herself out of the water without too much trouble.
Aeryn swam awkwardly with the current, towards the edge of the stream. By the time she reached the bank and tried to scramble out, John was there to grab her wrists and haul her up so she didn’t have to contend with the slippery mud and grass.
They landed in a heap several metras away from the stream, and John wrapped his arms around her tightly. Aeryn allowed herself to rest in his embrace for a few microts. It was strong and safe and comforting. She felt the change when he realized what he was doing, and carefully loosened his grip.
She was disconcerted to realize she regretted it when he let her go. Something else to ponder, when there was time.
She was shivering violently now, the time in the icy water having reduced her core temperature even more than the rain was doing. John pushed her along at a safer distance from the stream, but she slowed down more and more. She could feel her body struggling to keep going.
After perhaps half an arn, John insisted on stopping for a rest. Truth be told, she needed one; she was exhausted with the effort of keeping one foot in front of the other. But, she also knew that the only thing giving her any warmth at all was the heat of her exertion while she kept on walking.
He put his arms around her, held her close, while they sat together miserably in the rain. He was soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, too, but she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She had wasted so much time, since she’d lost his twin. She wanted to tell him so, but the words wouldn’t form.
John seemed to sense her drifting away, and turned her face towards him. “Aeryn?” he said sharply. “Aeryn! Stay with me here, Aeryn. Stay awake!”
She thought he was shaking her, but she wasn’t sure.
Aeryn’s focus narrowed to John. Nothing else mattered. She tried to assess his condition, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. Still, he seemed to be doing better than she was. That was good. He would make it this time, even if she didn’t.
His worried voice was the last thing she heard as she drifted into darkness.
*************
The first thing she noticed was the jerky rhythm of movement. Somehow, she was moving. She knew she was cold. And wet. It was dark, or maybe her eyes weren’t open. She tried to concentrate, but the only thing she could isolate was the fact that she seemed to be hanging over something. Sideways. Oh. Someone’s back. Someone was carrying her. That was good. Good. Cold. So cold. She drifted off again.
*************
Her back was propped up against something. She was sitting, her legs stretched out in front of her, she thought. She couldn’t really feel them, but the muscles seemed to pull out, not in. It was dark. Still dark. And it was noisy. And cold. Where was she? She almost remembered….something. Loud. Something loud. A ship crash. John. Did she get him out? She didn’t remember, couldn’t think. She whimpered softly.
Cold hands gripped her face. “Baby.” It was John’s voice. John’s voice. She stopped trying to figure anything out. He was safe. She was safe. He was still talking when she drifted off again.
*************
She was being lifted up again. She knew it was John. Knew the strength of his arms, recognized the soothing tones of his voice. She wanted to see his face, but her eyes wouldn’t open, her head wouldn’t turn. She felt herself being carried jerkily, rotated around….oh, a door. They went through a door. Still cold, but maybe she wouldn’t…wouldn’t what? Die. Maybe she wouldn’t die.
And then John put her down, on her back, on something lumpy. If she wasn’t so frelling cold, she would have felt something of the texture. Smooth? Rough? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell. She felt a slight warmth beneath her arms, though. Something not quite so cold.
She heard John’s voice again, her name. Something about a fire, about being safe. Of course she was safe. She was with him. Silly man. She tried to tell him so, but she just didn’t have the energy to speak.
She sank into the warmth beneath her and drifted off again.
*************
Something warm. Hands. John’s hands, warm on her forehead. On her arms. Warm.
*************
What the frell? Someone was tugging on her clothes. She should stop them, but that would mean doing things she couldn’t do. Moving. Opening her eyes. Finding her voice.
Voice. She could hear it now, someone’s voice, talking nervously. John. There must be some reason…. The way things were, he wouldn’t….
She felt cold air as her vest came open, a sudden halt in his efforts. And then he lifted her up and tugged some more, pulling her arms through the armholes, and she could hear him talking again. Talking, murmuring. About the cold. Wet clothes. Ah. Wet clothes off. Inside her head, in her dark little world, she nodded approvingly.
He wouldn’t let her die.
She must be naked, she thought. He’d stopped. Stopped talking, stopped tugging on her clothes and her body.
John, the other one, had done such wonderful things to her body. She shivered, remembering.
She could feel something soft – fur? – under her fingertips. And then John tucked something warm, warmer than she was, anyway…something warm and soft over her, around her, and she sighed, grateful for his concern, grateful for his care.
She relaxed, and her head turned to the side, as she drifted off again.
*************
Things were a little clearer this time. She knew she was lying on a pile of furs, with more furs covering her up. Except that John had lifted the top furs, had leaned down to touch her body….carefully….forehead….then her hands, held tightly between his own warm hands….torso and legs….a gentle touch, the intake of his breath and he straightened up again….
There was a fire, she could hear it…and that must be why his hands were warm, from holding them in front of it. He had been as wet and cold from the storm as she was, she remembered suddenly.
Stupid man. He needed to warm up, too. Why was he standing out there? She heard the sounds of him struggling with something as she drifted off again.
*************
She felt the furs shift, under her and over her, as John climbed into the makeshift bed with her.
So familiar. So familiar, she almost thought he was the other one, but the other one was dead.
And this man, this man was terrified of her, as much as he wanted her. She could feel it in the way he settled carefully next to her, not touching her body with his. If she’d had the energy to speak, to move, she would have reassured him, told him he was welcome in her life, in her bed.
She felt a little better when his fingers grazed her cheek and he pushed some hair off her face. Good. He loved her hair. It was good that he felt safe enough to touch it.
John moved over closer to her, their unclothed bodies touching at last. That was good, too. She almost had enough energy to smile.
When he covered her legs with his and started rubbing her arm, blissfully warm, she surrendered to the darkness one more time.
*************
She didn’t open her eyes, but she thought she could this time.
John. She could feel him, smell him, all around her. It was intoxicating, and terrifying, even though she couldn’t begin to move, still felt as if her body weighed twice as much as normal.
He was sliding one leg over hers to warm her. His hands traced a careful, regular pattern down one of her arms, across her stomach, back to the thigh, up the arm, and then he caressed her cheek….
It was warm, and sensual, and electrifying, and terrifying.
She lay there silently still, reveling in his touch, still unable to do more than think.
It was long past time for her to tell him what she wanted. She wanted John Crichton in her life. This man was her center. He completed her. He made her more.
His fingers slid across her belly, and a moan escaped her lips.
His hand froze in mid-caress, and he whispered her name. “Aeryn?”
The touch of his skin on hers, the sound of her name on his lips, broke through the lethargy that had surrounded her since she lost consciousness. Every part of her body responded to his presence, ached for his touch. She needed him, she needed him now. She moaned again, arched her body eagerly towards his hand….
She could feel his body respond, knew he’d been ready since he’d joined her in the bed – and she felt him panic and pull away from her, afraid that she didn’t want this, didn’t want him.
His voice was nervous, apologetic. “Aeryn? Baby, are you feeling warmer? Are you okay? You were so cold, I….” So afraid she would be angry with him for loving her.
That was her fault, she knew. She’d held him at arm’s length, even after she’d begun to let go of the man she lost. He hadn’t deserved that, even though she hadn’t been able to help it. She’d almost lost him today, without ever having him. It was time to stop this, time that he knew how she felt about him.
But first she had to take away his fear. John Crichton had taught her how to be careful, how to go slow. She had learned a lot by example from this one, and the other one.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. He was on his side, facing her, his limbs carefully, tensely, pulled back to his own body, making sure he wouldn’t touch her accidentally.
She smiled at him, gently, hiding her need. “I’m okay,” she said, answering his question, searching his face for signs he was okay too. He seemed unsure, concerned, but…hungry, too. His need for her rolled off of him in waves, and it only made her want him more.
Careful.
She reached her right hand out and touched the smooth skin of his forehead just above his left eyebrow, assuring herself she knew the difference between the man she’d lost, and the man she was finally ready to share her life with.
He shivered at the touch of her fingers. It couldn’t have been because they were cold -- She was burning up now.
“John?” she said, softly, tentatively, trying to reassure him, make him understand. “Make love to me.”
*************
But he didn’t understand. She saw it instantly in the stricken look on his face, just before he closed his eyes….
She didn’t know what to do, wasn’t sure what he was thinking, wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t good with words. Words were *his* strength. She watched him come to some kind of decision; even with his eyes closed, the emotions played across his face.
He opened his eyes again, looked at her, oh so earnestly, oh so sadly. “Aeryn, it’s me, John,” he said. His voice faltered for a moment, and he swallowed nervously, then began again. “I’m the other one. I’m just trying to warm you up, we’ve been out in the cold.”
Ah. She should have realized he would think that, think she didn’t know who he was. Now the words were easy, simple, direct. She rolled over on her side, facing him, looking in his eyes, letting him look in hers. Unhesitatingly, she reached out and ran her fingers down his arm, smiling when he trembled as she had known he would. She let the words out: “No you’re not.”
And still, he didn’t understand, was afraid to understand. “What?” he said.
She was already tired of going slowly. She didn't know how he'd managed it for so long. “You’re not the other one,” she told him firmly. “He’s dead,” she added, closing the door gently on the man who died. There. If that wasn’t enough, she didn’t know what was. “And I want *you* to make love to me,” she reiterated.
He wanted to believe her. She could tell by the longing in his face.
She was just going to have to demonstrate. She knew his body, she knew what he liked, knew what he responded to, knew what he liked to do….
She trailed her fingers down his arm again until she reached his hand where it rested tensely on his thigh. She picked his hand up and pulled it to her mouth, kissing his fingertips, moving them solidly down to her bare hip. More, the gesture said. Touch me. Kiss me. Here. Everywhere.
His body didn’t fail her expectations. While she could see his brain trying to catch up, his hand caressed her hip, moved up along her side to cup her breast gently in his fingers….and she shuddered under his touch, gasped, let him see her desire, her need…
Breathing heavily, she looked in his eyes and saw her own yearning mirrored there, saw him struggle to control it. She knew if she simply took him, he wouldn’t fight her, but that wasn’t want she wanted, not this first time. Time enough for that later. She wanted him to understand that she wanted him for as long as they had left to them, not just for tonight.
*Come on, John,* she thought, restraining her body with a shudder. *I can’t take much more of this….*
She reached her hand out and caressed his cheek, and his face changed just like that. In an instant, the restraint was gone. He groaned, and surrendered, to himself, to her, to the two of them….
He wrapped his arm around her back, crushed her to him, covered her mouth with his. He was warm and fierce and gentle, all at once, and he tasted like heaven.
It had been far too long. She abandoned any self-control she’d been clinging to, kissing him back without any reserve, reaching her tongue into his mouth, pressing her body into his, trying to mold the two of them into one body, one being, even before they were ready to couple. There was nothing but John, would never be anything but John.
He groaned again, rolling them over so he was on top, burying his face in her neck, his fingers in her hair, tasting her skin, breathing her exhaled breath… His desire for her seemed fierce, insatiable, and she wanted that, needed that, it matched her own need for him.
When he entered her, it was so right, it was so perfect, she struggled to remember that this was his first real taste of her, and hers of him. She wanted to slow time down, savor the moments, commit every microt, every feeling, to memory…. But it was impossible to hold back and all too soon they were spent, and he was nuzzling her neck and whispering into her hair in awestruck tones, “Oh, my god….”
She understood the sentiment, but couldn’t find the words to voice it… So she pushed him over onto his back and straddled his waist, running her hands over his sweat-covered body, the same, and not the same as the man she lost. She traced lazy circles around his nipples, watching his smile grow wider with every movement of her fingers…and as his smile grew, so did hers. She had never imagined she could feel this joy again, and yet, here it was….
She bent to kiss him, up one side of his neck, tasting his lips again, then down the other side, and while she did, John wordlessly tangled his fingers in her hair. Some things never changed, she thought.
She lifted her head again, and gazed into his eyes. He was so beautiful….
“Um, Aeryn,” he said finally, summoning the energy to speak.
“Mm?” she murmured, brushing his hair with her fingers, wondering what he needed to say.
“Damn, we’re good together,” he said, looking at her slightly sideways.
She almost laughed out loud. She knew what he meant to tell her. He understood. She gave him a blinding smile and said the one word that kept running through her head. “Perfect.”
John sighed then, a huge contented sigh.
Aeryn bent down and kissed him, then rolled off of him into the furs, giving him his turn to reach out and caress her and play with her body, beginning to learn its secrets as lovers do.
Sometime soon they were going to have to figure a way off this frelling mudball of a planet. But for now, it was far more than enough to enjoy each other and the warmth, and rejoice in the fact that they had a future together.
