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Aeryn was prowling. Sleep having eluded her, she silently walked Moya’s darkened passageways, savoring the quiet and solitude.
She had begun the practice shortly after returning from Dam-Ba-Da, stricken by the death of her beloved. At first it had helped keep her sane. Ultimately it gave her the time and space to begin healing her emotional wounds. Eventually, the terrible grief, which had threatened to crush her, had lifted. There remained a gentle, abiding sadness at her loss, but the pain was gone. Now, when she was sleepless, or when she just needed to think, Aeryn would wander the vast, comforting spaces of the great Leviathan.
Presently, she found herself outside the maintenance bay. Light was streaming through the open door… someone else was awake tonight. Aeryn moved quietly to the doorway and looked within. As she had suspected, John was seated at a workbench, going over the data from the wormhole experiments one more time. He was tantalizingly close to cracking the phase-instability problem, but the key remained hidden. He knew it was there, and he wouldn’t quit until he found it. Persistence: that had always been his… had always been their, greatest asset.
Watching him, Aeryn recalled another time when she had stood, unseen, outside John’s quarters while he viewed the holographic message stored in Stark’s mask. John was facing the image of his double, listening intently. (Odd… when had she come to think of this one as John?) The twin spoke of the awesome power of wormhole technology, and of the terrible risk it posed in the wrong hands. He spoke of other things as well. “Be smart,” he said, “don’t push her. She takes… time.” (Could either of them have imagined how long it would take?)
Aeryn had stood transfixed, as the two played a last round of Rock-Paper-Scissors, as they had done endlessly on the day they came into being. It ended in a tie, as had all the others. But those had been a challenge. This was an affirmation: You and I are the same!
Later, John had informed the crew of his decision to go after Scorpius. They all, Aeryn included, thought it was a suicide mission. Still, she had been the first to stand with him. Why? Because she knew he was right? Because action, however suicidal, was preferable to dwelling on her pain? Or was it because the prospect of life in a universe without John Crichton was intolerable to her? To this day she wasn’t sure.
She was still amazed that they had survived that mission. Perhaps the Fates had taken pity upon righteous fools, or maybe they had just been lucky. Somehow they had come out of it alive. Afterwards she remained on Moya because, like John, she really had nowhere else to go.
And in all the days that followed, John had heeded the advice given by his other self. He hadn’t pushed her, nor had he abandoned her. He had respected her needs and given her the space she required. But when the dren hit the fan he was there, working beside her, or guarding her back, as reliable and constant as the Law of Gravity.
She recalled an incident, not long ago. They’d been hauling cargo to earn much-needed currency and the recipients figured it would be cheaper to just murder them and take the goods. They were badly mistaken. Aeryn and John had stood back to back between the containers, protecting the wounded D’Argo until Jool and Chiana had arrived like twin Furies, routing the locals and capturing their leader.
After satisfying herself that D’Argo was not in danger, Jool had turned her attention to their prisoner. Aeryn could still see the expression on his face as Jool had calmly explained, in graphic detail, just what was going to happen to his mivonks if he did not immediately pay for the cargo. Of course, under the circumstances, the price was doubled, and there was the matter of compensation for D’Argo. And, naturally, the ammunition expended by the crew during the fight would be replaced. Who ever would have thought that spoiled, arrogant Jool would become such a formidable warrior… or such a persuasive negotiator?
Everyone changes, Aeryn realized. Life changes them, reshapes them. The possibilities are infinite. And of all the people each of her shipmates might become, she could hope to know only one… excepting John. In his case she’d had the great privilege of knowing two. She stood for a moment, contemplating the familiar figure hunched over the workbench: he looked so tired… and so alone. Then, taking a deep breath, she strode into the maintenance bay.
Sensing her presence, John turned to face her, wondering what was up. Aeryn rarely approached him unless there was some urgent problem or issue that needed his attention.
She stopped in front of him and with a shy smile said, “Hey.”
“Hey,” John replied, puzzled.
Aeryn gently took his face in her hands and bent down until her lips touched his. She lingered for a microt, then drew back and said, “Thank you, John, for being who you are.”
John smiled up at her and asked, quietly, “Who else would I be?”
Aeryn’s own smile broadened as she said, “Who else, indeed? Good night, John.”
“Good night, Aeryn,” he replied, “sweet dreams.”
She touched his cheek and said, “You too,” then turned and left for her quarters.
John watched her depart and slowly ran the tip of his tongue across his upper lip. Then he smiled, and turned back to his work with renewed energy.
