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The lives of these two are so hopelessly intertwined that it was really hard to settle on one POV for this story I started with Aeryn, but John's POV kept getting in there so I switched to John and Aeryn was still there.
So, I took the lazy way out I present the same story from two points of view, and crave your patience.
This is, in a way, a sequel to 'Future Imperfect'
My thanks to JustPlainLisa and Yelloh for giving it the once over.
Rain on the Roof
Aeryn
"Say it again John, slowly."
"Rain," he said.
Aeryn nodded and repeated, perfectly, "Rain."
She grinned at him.
"Why, Aeryn?" he asked.
"Why not?" She had lots of reasons for learning English. For one thing, it was irritating the Hezmana out of him. More seriously, if she could get a grip on his language, she might gain some insight into his tortuous thought processes. She tipped her face to the sky savouring the heavy rain falling on her skin and remembered a downpour on a false Earth so long ago.
She read his thoughts, and smiled again, catching a few drops on her tongue. "Come on we need to get out of this - this 'rain'."
They scurried into the shelter, rigged to protect grazing animals from the elements.
Aeryn swung her hair forward and wrung the water out of it. She shook it back unselfconsciously, and the wet ends brushed her arms.
Crichton looked pained. She saw his hand hesitate by a pocket, and pull away again empty.
The rain thundered on the roof. John stood gazing out of the gaping door, with his back to her.
"So what is it in your language?" he asked.
"What?"
"Rain what's the Sebacean for rain?"
"Oh um it's miaakan," she said. Rain had not been a big part of her PeaceKeeper past.
She watched his back as he stood troubled in the doorway. He rubbed his arms vigorously, drying them, bringing back the circulation. His hair dripped, and the sleeves of his sodden T-shirt clung to him.
He shrugged his vest up round his ears and stepped towards the doorway.
"You're not really going out there?" Aeryn said with sudden realisation. "You'd rather wait in that downpour than sit here with me?" She was stunned that her presence was so hard for him to bear.
John stopped, and scrubbed his hands over his face. " Nah," he said. "Wet enough already," He came back inside, and sat at the other end of the feed bale she was sitting on.
"Do the drugs help?" she asked; curious.
"You know?"
"Of course I know. I have eyes, Crichton . . . . Do they help?"
He shook his head, refusing to catch her eye.
"Then I should leave," she told him with quiet certainty.
"No!" John almost shouted, surprising her with his vehemence. "No way!"
"Then what can I do? "
"I don't know."
The rain drummed on. The sound blotted out the world cocooning them in the shelter.
Surprisingly, he said, "I'm sorry he wasn't there."
"Uh huh." It was a blow but she would keep on searching.
"We'll find a surgeon somewhere."
"Some day . . ." (somehow somewhere - )
"Is that why you went to the assassins?"
"Mercenaries;" she corrected, "and yes, partly." She was not going there and hoped he'd let it drop.
She said, "I dont understand - why you will not trust me. I've told you I wish I could explain but I cannot. When I am free to do so I will tell you everything, and then you will understand. But for now I am asking you to trust me. Why is that not enough? I have not betrayed you or any of us. And you know in your heart that I would never betray you. Help me, John. Explain. What do I have to do?" And deep inside Aeryn was tearing up over the mighty secret that she could not share.
But still there was a new core of calm that she didn't fully understand. She cared about his pain and confusion, but against all the odds they had been reunited albeit with a huge gulf between them. Aeryn had begun to believe in fate. It would never be easy, but it would work out. Somehow.
The rain was easing, the sky lightening gradually.
"How d'you feel about a hybrid?" he asked. "What about the Sebacean pure blood line?"
She bit back her exasperation. "If that worried me you'd have known about it before now."
"HE would have."
"YOU would! If this child is not pure Sebacean then it is part human, part yours John." How could that not please her?
"Part HIS;" he said bitterly.
"Maybe. But maybe part yours, and there will be no way to tell. And if it is Sebacean then it was from before ~ when I was still a PeaceKeeper."
"What about Crais?" he asked.
"What!? Crais? I told you oh . " She hesitated. Was this always going to happen, that she'd hurt him like this? "Sorry I didn't tell you. I never recreated with Crais." She paused. "I won't apologise, John. There are many PeaceKeeper males who could be the father. But whatever this embryo is part me too, and my child will be born."
"You've changed so much. . ." John said.
"You said I could change," she reminded him. She turned to him with a quiet smile.
He studied his boots. "No not like that."
"You remember I said that I had never been alone?"
John nodded.
"Well, now I have . . ." and somewhere out there she had found a deep well of certainty inside herself.
He stared at his boots, absorbing this. "You scared?" he said.
"Yes;" she said simply. 'And I don't know how I'm going to do it alone . . .,' she thought.
The rain was pattering now like a summer shower. Sun began to break through, and a perfect arc of colour grew in the space framed by the doorway.
"Rainbow," John said.
"Rainbow," she repeated perfectly, in English.
John
"Say it again John, slowly."
"Rain," he said, with exaggerated care.
Aeryn nodded and repeated, perfectly, "Rain."
She grinned at him.
"Why, Aeryn?" Why did she persist in trying to speak English? It had to be the other guy something to do with him . . .
"Why not?" was all she offered. And she gave him that look that he could no longer read.
She tipped her face to the sky savouring the heavy rain falling on her skin. A lifetime ago it seemed to John she had stood like this on the false Earth.
She smiled again, catching a few drops on her tongue. "Come on we need to get out of this - this 'rain'," she said.
They scurried into the shelter, rigged to protect grazing animals from the elements. Just like any farm, back home.
Aeryn shook her hair forward and wrung the water out of it. Shaking it back she looked again like the naοve PeaceKeeper who had first been stranded aboard Moya. Oh it hurt, Crichton felt. It hurt to see her so unaffected, so natural. Who would think she was so changed? Who would think she guarded so many secrets? His hand went, automatically to his stash of Laka. He caught himself just in time.
The rain thundered on the roof. He felt trapped. He stood, gazing out of the gaping door, '. . .'cos the way it makes you look, makes me hope it rains some more;' his mind sang to him. Unfair.
"So what is it in your language?" he asked.
"What?"
"Rain what's the Sebacean for rain?"
"Oh! um it's miaakan," she said.
It was difficult to ignore the translation in his brain and hear instead the word in his ears. Musical, lyrical. Hard to equate with the brutal PKs he'd come to know and love. Maybe she was right about the origins of the PeaceKeepers. The peace, order, harmony bit. Or maybe it was just the molten chocolate voice she said it in.
He rubbed his arms, flattening the goosebumps. His hair was dripping his T clammy and clinging. He wondered if she was cold. Nah . . . cold-blooded the lot of them, PeaceKeepers. Oh, he was getting old and bitter. He tried not to think of her bare arms, cool skin. . . . No! . . . he couldn't bear this.
He shrugged his vest up round his ears and stepped towards the doorway. He had to get out of here.
"You're not really going out there?" Aeryn said with a small frown in her voice. "You'd rather wait in that downpour than sit here with me?"
What was it with him lately why could he not just be natural with her? he wondered. "Nah," he forced himself to say. "Wet enough already." Instead he came back inside, and sat at the other end of what looked (and felt) for all the world like a hay bale.
"Do the drugs help?" she asked him.
"You know?" John said in surprise. He wondered if D'Argo had shared his little secret with the whole ship.
"Of course I know. I have eyes, Crichton . . . . Do they help?" she insisted.
John looked deep within himself and knew knew that nothing had changed, nothing was getting any better. Every snort of the drug was like picking at a raw wound. "No . . ."
"Then I must leave," she said quite simply.
"No!" John was surprised at the vehemence with which that came out he didn't need to think about it. "No way!" That was not the answer. Wondering where she was whether she was well, wondering if she had any answers about the baby if she'd had the baby. No painful as it was, Aeryn was staying where he could know if she was alive or dead. Where maybe he could even watch over her.
"Then what can I do? "
"I don't know."
The rain drummed on. Rivulets ran past the doorway. It might have been a mighty river, marooning them there together.
As a sort of peace offering he said, "I'm sorry he wasn't there."
"Uh huh," was her non-committal reply.
"We'll find a surgeon somewhere."
"Some day . . ."
"Is that why you went to the assassins?"
"Mercenaries, and yes, partly."
He heard her saying, "I dont understand - why you will not trust me. I've told you I wish I could explain but I cannot. When I am free to do so I will tell you everything, and then you will understand. But for now I am asking you to trust me. Why is that not enough? I have not betrayed you or any of us. And you know in your heart that I would never betray you. Help me, John. Explain. What do I have to do?"
Outside, the rain was easing the sky lightening gradually.
"How d'you feel about a hybrid?" he said. "What about the Sebacean pure blood line?"
She smiled. "If that worried me you'd have known about it before now."
"HE would have."
"YOU would! If this child is not pure Sebacean then it is part human, part yours, John.
"Part HIS."
"Maybe. But maybe part yours, and there will be no way to tell. And if it is Sebacean then it was from before ~ when I was still a PeaceKeeper."
"What about Crais?"
"What!? Crais? I told you oh ." She hesitated.
'Wrong 'me',' he thought ruefully 'again!'
"Sorry I didn't tell you. I never recreated with Crais. I won't apologise, John. There are many PeaceKeeper males who could be the father of this child. But whatever this embryo is part of me too, and my child will be born."
"You've changed so much . . ." John said, (and his mind added, 'and I don't know you any more.')
"You said I could change," she reminded him. She turned to him with a quiet smile.
He studied his boots. "No not like that."
"You remember I said that I had never been alone?"
John nodded remembering that day all too well; how vulnerable she had seemed.
"Well, now I have . . ."
He could not look at her. This calm certainty - it was not designed to irritate him at all, but stemmed from the core of strength he had always known was in her.
He stared at his boots, absorbing this. "You scared?" he asked already guessing at the answer.
"Yes;" simply. It was no longer a big deal, he realised, to make this admission.
He resisted the urge to tell her all would be well with their track record . . .
The rain was pattering now like a summer shower. A shaft of light broke through. 'Perfect,' John thought. 'Cue the rainbow.'
He smiled ruefully as it appeared.
"Rainbow," he told her.
"Rainbow," she repeated in perfect, molten chocolate English.
