Work Text:
Title: Get to You
Author: perletwo
Fandom: Farscape
Paring: John/Aeryn
Rating: A nice comfy G.
Status: New, Complete.
Archive: Please archive to WWOMB
E-mail address for feedback:: perletwo@yahoo.com
Disclaimers: John, Aeryn, D'Argo and just about anything in quotation marks in this fic belong to The Jim Henson Company et al. The 40-metreh running emotional commentary is mine. Oh, and the first line belongs to Peja, issuer of the Ineffective Affirmations challenge!
Summary: My answer to the Ineffective Daily Affirmations challenge.
Possibly not the last of these I'll write, too. I don't know why I like writing Aeryn-angst so much; maybe just because she's so cute when she scowls. Furthermore, I love it when the writers relieve me of the responsibility of having to plot...
And much love and Hynerian marjoles to Lady T (aka Tiara 7) for the scene transcript!
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GET TO YOU
By Perletwo
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Does my quiet self-pity get to you or should I move up to incessant nagging? ...wondered Aeryn as she watched John rest on the pallet, a web of beaded wires glowing over his space-numbed head.
D'Argo undoubtedly knew she was watching in the shadows, but since the web covered John's eyes, she had a nice opportunity to look his body over very thoroughly. A nice body even clothed, hard and tight, straining the leather in all the right places. And soon to be Katrala's. The thought made rage flare up sharply through Aeryn's chest.
D'Argo gave her the smallest nod as he left via the door opposite. Trust the Luxan never to let her get away with anything where John was concerned. Well, frell him. Chiana'd be happy to oblige, she was sure.
"I'm very proud of you," she started, moving into the room and settling on the bench opposite his pallet.
"Really." Skepticism darkened John's voice. "Why?"
"For being Crichton," Aeryn said softly. "The Crichton I always knew." Can't hurt to remind him I knew him first, she thought.
One corner of his mouth quirked up in something a bit too bitter to be called a smile. "Getting my ass kicked all over the Universe?"
He doesn't want to believe in me, she thought. "Putting yourself in a position to get your ass kicked." After all the times I've belittled him, why should he believe me now? "Fighting, resisting -" she continued desperately, "- never giving up." And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that sooner, she added to herself.
John's eyes bored into her, daring her to lie. "Aeryn, is there a way off this planet? Have you convinced Scorpius to stop chasing me? The Empress, does she no longer intend on her daughter being heir to the throne?"
"Those are not good reasons for getting married!" Aeryn snapped, appalled at the whine creeping into her voice. But damn it, Crichton's logic felt just exactly like the needle had going into her eye.
"I know," John said gently. "Bigger picture. Let's say that the idiot son inherits the throne. He starts wars. He makes bad alliances -" Aeryn's back twinged just as he said that, reminding her of her recent brawl with the Scarran. "- millions of people die..." he let them both process that mental picture. "Eighty cycles...it's not that long of a time."
"Oh,so you've rationalized this all out have you?" The whine had grown into a full-blown sob, she realized with the part of her mind that wasn't picturing the city littered with corpses. Such a scene would never have bothered her before John, she realized.
"Aeryn, i'm tired. What am i supposed to do? What am i supposed to do when there's no fight left?"
"You run away," Aeryn said softly.
Hope glowed dimly in John's eyes when she said it, and he toyed with a lock of her long hair, pulling it off her face for a better view of her eyes. "With you?" he asked, weighting the question with emotion.
Aeryn looked away quickly. "With all of us together." He let the hair drop as if hot. Even without looking she could tell she'd landed a blow. After a long moment she felt his eyes break contact with her, and glancing back she saw him lie back on the bed, hands behind his head, displaying glorious triceps, she couldn't help but note - as she always did.
"What? you can't just quit!" she shouted.
"I'm not quitting," he said, closing his eyes. "I just can't go on."
Can't go on with me, you mean, she thought bitterly. "Was i wrong? Are you no longer the Crichton I always knew?" she cried desperately, thinking, The one who said he'd never leave me?
But John didn't move, and Aeryn could feel his emotions withdrawing further from her. Something dark and angry boiled in her chest and threatened to erupt, and she bolted from the room before she could disgrace herself further.
He doesn't want to deal with me, she thought furiously, stalking through the palace halls. All those times he's accused me of being afraid to deal with him and when I do he won't respond?!
Well, frell him. Katrala'd be happy to oblige, she was sure.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the royal cousin, Kazzanova, being cosseted into wedding robes by a tailor. Big, gorgeous and utterly vapid. She'd known dozens of grunts just like him coming up through infantry, only less well groomed.
All right then, Aeryn thought. He won't deal with me? I'll just have to make him deal with me! She turned and marched through the tailor's chamber, barking, "I'm going to explore the Barren Lands," adding over her shoulder, "if you think you can keep up!"
She heard eager footfalls hit the marble behind her. If quiet self-pity and incessant nagging won't work, I'll just use my last trick: self-destructiveness, she thought.
John will come. Chiana can be counted on to blab. He'll ditch the wedding and come save me from myself. He always does....
****FIN****