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Epilogue - 'Jeremiah Crichton'
by Sarah Wait
John Crichton dutifully scraped at what remained of the beard he had grown on Acquara. It had seemed appropriate during his time on the planet, but now that he was back, it just didn't fit anymore. Not long after he arrived on Moya - a lifetime ago, it seemed - he had realized that no one had ever bothered to create a Shaving Dentic. Drawing upon his meager Boy Scout skills, he had learned how to shave with a knife. Now, after a few months' break, his fingers were again awkward - and damn, what he wouldn't give for a big ol' can of shaving cream.
Thinking back to Acquara, he groaned. He had spent the first month or so alternating between kicking himself for making his crewmates so mad they had left him, then feeling furious at *them* for ditching him so readily. After a while he had finally pushed the whole incident out of his mind, intent on making the best of his situation. Then D'Argo and Rygel showed up out of nowhere and explained about Moya's unexpected jump to warp speed. That's when the guilt really set in. Considering the things he had said during his little temper tantrum, it was amazing they had come for him at all. Thankfully, D'Argo had accepted his apology while they were still on Acquara, and Crichton rationalized that since Rygel hadn't been anywhere near him that day, he really didn't need to say anything to the crabby Hynerion. Saving his royal butt from a mob of disillusioned subjects would have to do. Once they were safely on their way back to Moya, however, he had seriously begun to worry. There were bound to be some hard feelings, and he still had some major apologies to dish out.
Removing more of the beard, John looked in what passed for a mirror on Moya and sighed. Since returning to the ship, he had spoken to Zhaan and Pilot, but had so far managed to put off his talk with Aeryn. It hadn't been difficult, since she had skillfully avoided him while they unloaded the supplies the Acquarians had provided.
In retrospect, his apology to Zhaan had gone over fairly well. She had insisted she was happy to have him back on board, but had mostly remained cool and distant. Some things hadn't changed in the last three months.
His discussion with Pilot had been more encouraging - Pilot had actually beaten him to the punch. "I do apologize for Moya's sudden starburst, Crichton. I assure you, if I had been able to stall her, I would have."
"That's okay, Pilot. I should have stuck around to finish helping out. Starbursting must be the Leviathan equivalent of pickles and ice cream, I guess."
Pilot had simply stared at the human for a moment, then blinked and continued. "The others were quite concerned, as well. Especially D'Argo and Officer Sun. At times when some thought it best to move on, they insisted we continue to search for you. They refused to give up."
This last bit of information came as a surprise. Knowing that D'Argo and Aeryn had been so determined to find him...well, that put a whole new spin on things. 'Apologizing' had just become 'serious groveling'.
"All right, Crichton, quit stalling. Just do it and get it over with." Running a hand over his now- smooth chin, he left his quarters in search of Aeryn.
*****
Aeryn stood over the main console in the Mapping Room, trailing her fingers across the smooth surface while she stared out at the stars. This small room was one of her favorites. The far wall was simply a floor-to-ceiling window. Three low steps rose from the floor a few metras in front of her and stretched the entire length of the room, creating a semi-circular platform that extended all the way to the window. She liked to study the maps, then sit in the middle of the raised floor and try to remember the names of the stars and planets. It wasn't as impressive as the Terrace, but here she could be alone.
Returning her focus to the console, she tried to lose herself in the current map. A voice from the door startled her. "Knock, knock."
She turned to see Crichton standing in the doorway. He had changed into his black pants and grey t-shirt, a vast improvement over the tattered, filthy clothes he had been wearing upon his return from Acquara. She also noted that he had removed that hideous beard. His face looked slightly red and irritated, but again, it was a vast improvement. She frowned at the direction her thoughts had taken. "Crichton."
John watched the range of emotions cross her face - surprise, confusion, curiosity, anger. Seeing her frown, he cleared his throat nervously. Her terse greeting wasn't the best, but at least she hadn't left. Or thrown anything at him... With that encouraging thought, he moved to stand next to her. She turned back to the map as he approached.
"Are you busy or do you have a minute to, um, talk?"
A non-committal shrug. Well, it wasn't a 'no'. Taking a deep breath, he plunged ahead. "Look, I, uh, wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said to you... before. I was angry, and I said some things... a lot of things...I didn't really mean. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Thank you for your apology, although it is not necessary."
"Yes, *Aeryn*, it is. Especially when I also need to say thanks." John could tell he was getting frustrated again - this wasn't exactly going as he had planned. The fact that he was talking to her ear didn't help. "Pilot said that you and D'Argo kept looking for me, even when the others wanted to leave me out there. Alone."
Pausing for a moment, he dared to ask the question that had been bothering him. "Why didn't you? Give up on an inferior species like me, I mean."
"Don't worry, Crichton. It was nothing, really. To be quite honest, you've become somewhat... useful. At times." She shrugged again. "It was actually D'Argo who was so insistent; I just went along with it to keep him happy."
That did it. Anger coursed through him as he lost his temper. "Dammit, Aeryn, why can't you admit that maybe, just *maybe*, you needed me or missed me or something other than this unemotional Peacekeeper crap?!"
Aeryn spun around to glare at him. But before the all-too-familiar mask of indifference fell over her features, he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. Suddenly he recalled the last time he had hurt her - right before his quarter-cycle joyride. She had made an effort to reach out to him, in her own way, and he had lashed out at her. Damn, he was supposed to be apologizing for that, not re-living it.
As she pushed away from the table to stalk out of the room, he grabbed her arm. "Aeryn, wait." He was surprised when she didn't instantly jerk away. "Please, I'm sorry. I came here to apologize, not pick a fight. I guess I'm just being a stupid human again." His voice drifted off as she turned to look at him. Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, something he could rarely remember seeing. Anticipating her immediate departure, he relaxed his grip. Yanking her arm from his grasp, she surprised him again by walking over to the edge of the dais. She sat down at the top of the steps, her back to the window. Intrigued, John followed and carefully settled next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.
After a few moments of silence, he hesitantly started to speak. "You know, Aeryn, it's not a weakness to show emotions toward a friend."
Aeryn had never before considered the things she was about to say, yet the words seemed to just spill out of her. "That's where you're wrong, Crichton. For a Peacekeeper, friendship itself is a weakness. It's as dangerous as fear. We are trained to act alone, fight alone, die alone - remember?" She laughed bitterly, waving her hands in the air. "And showing emotions?? You believe I simply don't *want* to feel these things, but you don't understand. I don't know *how* to feel them!"
John sat in stunned silence. He had never heard Aeryn talk like this, and considering the way her voice was rising, it was apparent her frustration was only making her angrier. "Peacekeepers are trained to not show emotions; trained to the point that we no longer allow ourselves to *feel* them. There are even additives in the food cubes we eat to help us repress emotions, to make us more efficient. But now I'm stuck on this ship - stuck with all of you and this onslaught of emotions I don't understand!"
She turned towards the human, looking slightly annoyed as the words continued to flow. "I'm not prepared to handle this friendship I feel for Pilot and D'Argo and Zhaan." She snapped her mouth shut, silently cursing her choice of words. Crichton gave her a curious look, which she deliberately misinterpreted. "And Rygel, well, he doesn't confuse me, he just irritates me."
Shifting towards her, he stopped her before she could turn away again. "And me? What about *me*, Aeryn?"
"You, John Crichton, confuse me more than anything. As a Peacekeeper I would have been punished for feeling these things for you, but even knowing that, I still feel them. And I hate myself for that weakness! I hate myself for feeling them, so I try to fight them, but I'm finding that to be impossible! And then there are times when I realize that I don't *want* to fight them, and that confuses me most of all!" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't understand you, I don't understand these emotions, and I sure as frell don't understand these tears!"
Furious with herself, she pushed away from the stairs and started to stand. Sputtering indignantly, John reached out and pulled her back down next to him. "Whoa, wait just a minute, here! You don't just drop a bombshell like that and then leave!"
Aeryn tossed her braid over her shoulder and glared accusingly at him. She brushed the back of her fist across her eyes, then stared longingly towards the door. Her shoulders sagged as the anger suddenly drained out of her, leaving only desperate confusion. John had to strain to hear her voice, now barely above a whisper. "You've made me question my training, my beliefs, everything, Crichton. You told me once that I could be more, but I don't know *how* to be more. If I'm not a Peacekeeper, who am I??"
John took her hands as the tears finally overflowed. "You are Aeryn Sun." Sniffling, she glanced at him curiously. "You are strong...both physically and mentally. You are intelligent. And loyal." He paused for a moment, pretending to think.
"And short-tempered, and argumentative, and stubborn as a mule." His boyish grin took the sting out of his words. Aeryn gave him a watery smile, wondered fleetingly what a 'mule' was, then again dropped her eyes to the floor. John slid a finger under her chin and slowly forced her to meet his gaze. With his other hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "And beautiful. Inside and out."
Aeryn's eyes filled with fresh tears. John moved his hand around to the back of her neck and gently pulled her head down to his chest, holding her as she cried.
*****
D'Argo turned into the Mapping Room, intent on finding Crichton. He froze, then silently stepped closer. They were sitting on the edge of the dais, just visible over the console. Crichton was propped against the wall, his left leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out on the bottom step. Tough-as-tarrag Aeryn Sun slept cradled against his chest, her tear-stained face nestled at the base of his neck and her arms clasped loosely around Crichton's waist. His right arm wrapped around her lower back, while the other encircled her shoulders, left bare by her sleeveless grey shirt. D'Argo had initially believed them both to be asleep, but though Crichton's eyes were closed, his fingers slowly stroked Aeryn's shoulder.
Memories of Lo'laan, and holding her while she slept, flowed over D'Argo. He regarded the pair enviously for a few moments, then turned on his heel and left as silently as he had arrived.
*****
John woke with a start, groaning as his stiff muscles protested the sudden movement. Although momentarily confused by his surroundings, he immediately realized what had awakened him. Aeryn was gone. But she hadn't been gone long, considering the lingering warmth along his body... and the slight chill where her tears had soaked the front of his shirt.
Standing and stretching, he worked the kinks out of his joints. By now, everyone but Pilot was likely asleep. He had been looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again, but on the way to his room he found himself taking the hallway to Aeryn's quarters.
He stopped outside her door, resting his shoulder against the wall as he watched her sleep. She was sprawled on her side, facing away from the wall. Her luxurious hair, unruly as always, had worked loose from its braid, spilling over her shoulders and obscuring most of her face. Crichton noted that his boxers were still her preferred sleepwear. His eyes traveled over her navy blue shirt, stopping as they arrived at a familiar logo.
*Why, you little klepto...* he thought with amusement. Sometime in the last three months she had managed to 'acquire' his favorite IASA t-shirt, as well - the one DK had jokingly stuffed behind an empty panel on Farscape, declaring it a "souvenir for the Reticulans". Last he knew, it had been in his quarters, superstitiously tucked under his pillow. Well, he'd be willing to bet it looked a hell of a lot better on Aeryn than it would on a Reticulan.....
Smiling, John pushed away from the wall and made his way back to his own quarters. Aeryn was no doubt embarrassed - yet another unfamiliar emotion for her to deal with. The next few days would be quite interesting, as she was very good at pretending certain events never happened.
No matter how much she wanted to deny it, though, *something* had happened tonight. Something had changed. Just for a while, she had let go of a little bit of that self-control; let go of the defenses that kept him - and everyone else - at a distance. She had allowed him to care.
She could make him so angry, but tonight he had finally realized exactly how much Aeryn Sun had lost. Everyone else aboard Moya had been imprisoned before he arrived. Though they had escaped, running from Crais wasn't exactly freedom. But Aeryn was different. She had *gained*
freedom - the freedom to think for herself, to act on her emotions. For someone who had spent her entire life under someone else's command, freedom must be a scary concept - probably scarier than the threat of being caged. Add to that her loss of identity as a Peacekeeper, and really, Aeryn had more to deal with than he did. He may not be understood by those around him, but at least he still understood himself.
Entering his quarters, he removed his boots and pants, then collapsed on the bed - *his* bed, he thought contentedly. As he drifted off to sleep, one final thought crossed John Crichton's mind.
*It sure feels good to be home.*
~~~~~
Sarah Wait