FSL Exchange Fic for: marieelise0928
Title: Human Nonsense
Rating: PG-13
Written For: marieelise0928
Written by: buddikins
Notes: Written for Marieelise0928’s prompt in the Farscapeland fic exchange: John apologizes to Aeryn for his freakout, set after Jeremiah Crichton. MERRY (frelling) CHRISTMAS.
When he set foot back on Moya, after three months - monens, maybe - away, Zhaan greeted him with open arms and tears on her face.
Aeryn was nowhere to be seen.
…
He found her in Command. She had her back to him, her head lowered and her fingers tracing over the console. He knew she must have heard him, but she didn’t turn, and he admired the view, waiting for her to crack. She didn’t.
He cleared his throat. ‘Don’t I get a hug?’
‘I imagine Zhaan already gave you one,’ she said, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes traced down his body, settling somewhere around his chin. Any other time, he’d have told himself it was because she wanted to kiss him, but he had to concede that, right now, she was probably working out his beard.
‘How about a hello, then?’
‘Hello, Crichton.’
…
The first month, he’d hated them, all of them, for leaving him, for being petty and stupid, and leaving him to die.
‘Yeah? Yeah?! Screw you too!’ he’d screamed up at the sky, standing on the beach and shaking his fists. ‘Last time I save you from mad scientists and, and, giant cockroaches! When I get outta here, I’m gonna track you down and explain the plot of Zaat! You think I won’t? Human nonsense! I’ll give you human nonsense! Frell! Frell frelling frell fuck!’
That was how the islanders had found him, throwing fistfuls of sand at the sky.
Lishala had explained later, that at first they’d thought (hoped) he was a god, then maybe a prophet, then simply a man, though she’d paused as if she really wanted to say ‘freak’. Apparently this process had happened rather quickly, and he thought he should probably be offended. But, he guessed that if Jesus had been swearing at the sky, he’d have been relegated back to crazy too.
…
‘You look like dren,’ Aeryn said. This wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured Crichton. She figured when they found him, he’d been skinny, unable as he was to take care of himself. Though, maybe a little tougher, a little more wild.
(She’d sort of thought it would be good for him, actually, but she didn’t tell people that.)
She didn’t think he would be more or less the same, but she found she liked it.
…
Somewhere around the second month, he noticed Lishala’s attraction to him, despite (or perhaps because of) his Robinson Crusoe inspired beard. That’d make sense. Caroline had loved Brosnan’s beard.
‘Would you like me to bring you a razor?’ she said, delicately, toes in the water.
He scratched his chin. ‘When a white guy gets stuck on an island, they grow a beard, get some dreads,’ he said. ‘I ain’t one to ruin tradition.’
She looked at him. ‘This happens often to your species?’
He grinned. ‘Not often. But it’s well documented.’
He’d cut his hair after one of the lobster things had grabbed hold of it and pulled like a schoolgirl with superpowers, but he kept the beard. It amused him, made him feel like the whole thing was a joke.
Because the guys with beards always made it back to shave ‘em off.
…
He touched his chin, the hair scratching at his fingers. He wanted to say something witty, but all he could manage was, ‘You don’t.’
She gave a half smile, and turned away from him. ‘You should get some rest.’
…
‘Well, he’s not here,’ Rygel said. The other three glared at him. ‘What? He isn’t. And it’s terribly sad, but can we say some frelling words and get the hezmana out of this system? We’re wasting our time.’
Aeryn wondered what frelling words they would end up saying, when the time came. He was a good man, and an idiot, and he was sick of me, and I wish he was here anyway. Which made no sense.
‘No,’ D’Argo said. ‘There are other planets he could have made it to.’
‘We must not give up,’ Zhaan said, her eyes bright.
Aeryn scanned the landscape again to avoid looking at any of them. Her eyes itched - she was tired, she supposed, having spent so many days looking at trajectories and rough charts.
Rygel gave a world-weary sigh, turning his throne sled in the direction of the transport pod. ‘So long as the Peacekeepers don’t find us first.’
D’Argo offered Aeryn a smile as he passed, and she determinedly ignored it. Ever since the Flax, he’d been keeping a closer eye on her- smugly at first, and now, she thought, sadly.
It drove her mad.
…
‘I don’t need rest,’ he said. ‘I came to see you.’ He laughed. ‘Well, really, you came to see me, I guess. Just in time for our da-’ He broke off.
She felt awkward, tense, like her arms were suddenly too heavy. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally.
He coughed. ‘I came to say sorry. Well, hello and sorry.’
…
He imagined at length what he’d say if he ever saw any of them again, which led to a rather interesting conversation with head-Aeryn one night, after a copious amount of the local equivalent of beer.
He’d cuddled up to her, said: ‘Why’d you leave me? I thought we had something.’
She’d laughed. ‘You sound like someone from freaking Titanic. Grow a pair, Crichton.’
He’d looked at her, reimagined her chin, her hair. It looked like Aeryn. ‘You don’t really sound like you. At all. I think I fucked up this daydream.’
‘Your human nonsense fucks everything up.’ But she’d been undressing, and he figured that all a good daydream needed was a pretty someone naked, so he’d gone with it.
He’d grabbed her by the arms, pushed her down, and said: ‘I’ll give you human nonsense.’
It had been satisfying.
Which wasn’t exactly what she’d said. But, well, she was out of character anyway, so it didn’t count.
…
She looked puzzled. ‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘I feel like I do.’
‘Right.’ She raised her eyebrows.
He wondered if she even remembered what he’d said, if she paid that little attention to his opinion. ‘I appreciate you looking for me, even after I was a huge dick to you. To everyone.’
She blinked. ‘I don’t think I understood that one.’
‘It means I was an idiot, a meaniepants.’ He grinned.
‘I see.’ She smiled back, and he thought that maybe that would be that; Butch and Sundance once again. ‘Looking for you wasn’t my idea,’ she said abruptly.
He almost laughed, watching her fold back into herself. ‘So who do I give credit to, then? ‘cause I think it was a great plan. Probably the best one ever.’
‘Unlike letting the pressure in Moya’s amnexus systems build to dangerous levels.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah. Unlike that one. Uh. The problem got fixed?’
‘Eventually. There was a backlog to deal with.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘It was unpleasant.’
‘I remember that. Kinda like the kid’s choice awards, but not as much fun.’
‘If you say so, Crichton.’
He sighed. ‘Human nonsense,’ he muttered.
Her face twitched back into a smile. ‘Yes.’
…
He woke up with the sun, to the sound of birds and running water, and he figured that he could probably get used to it. Or re-used to it, anyway.
He’d always wanted a little cabin by the water, with someone to curl up with. Two out of three wasn’t the worst thing he could think of.
So, he gave up on Earth, and tried to figure out how to have a life here instead.
‘I would’ve liked cable, though,’ he said to Lishala, who was stretched out on the beach, watching the clouds. ‘The sky’s nice, but it ain’t HBO.’
`
She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. ‘You are very odd,’ she said, voice teasing, flirty.
It pained him, and he nearly kissed her just to make it stop.
…
He leaned up against the console. ‘So, what’s new?’
Her brow wrinkled. ‘Well. You’re back.’
‘Yeah, I noticed that.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s nothing else.’
‘Something must have happened while I was away.’
‘No.’
‘What, do you need me here to have adventures?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just quieter. Although D’Argo nearly got arrested, once.’
‘What happened?’
‘We left before they could.’
‘No, I mean… oh, I’ll just ask him. How’s, uh, Pilot been?’
‘You should go talk to him,’ she said. ‘He’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘More pleased than you?’
…
John grew to expect Rokon’s visits, usually timed to allow Lishala to see John fail and Rokon succeed. As far as John could tell, it did no good; Lishala apparently loved losers with sunburnt skin.
So, he wasn’t surprised to hear Rokon’s laugh as he pounced towards the cat/alligator/horse/ thing he’d managed to sneak up on.
‘You aren’t a very good hunter,’ Rokon announced, looking on with disdain as John’s meal scampered away into the trees, bleating like a sheep.
John huffed, hands on his knees. ‘You’re pulling my leg, ain’t you? No way can you catch those things.’
Rokon puffed out his chest - John would need to pad a bra to get that kind of chest - and smiled smugly. He was reminded irresistibly of D’Argo.
Rokon stalked up to the trees, and emerged five minutes later with the deer/lizard/lion thing draped over his shoulders like a feather boa.
‘See?’
‘You gonna teach me to do that?’
‘I don’t think you can be taught,’ Rokon said, dumping the carcass at his feet. ‘But here you are.’
John saw Lishala walking up the beach out the corner of his eye, and sighed. ‘You’ve got a big heart, Rokon.’ To go with your other freakish muscles.
…
Aeryn turned back to the console, facing away from him. ‘Did you apologise to Zhaan?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
She glanced at him. ‘For the sake of the relationships on Moya.’
‘What? You care about how Zhaan feels? That’s new.’ His voice had a bite to it and her back stiffened.
‘I simply do not wish for her to be so completely disagreeable for the next three monens,’ Aeryn said, tone clipped.
‘You and Zhaan disagreeing? Yeah, that’s new.’ He trailed off, and she didn’t say anything. ‘Well, I guess… I apologised, and… said hey, so…’
…
‘I am not leaving Moya again,’ Zhaan snapped, glaring around the small square. ‘This is foolish.’
Aeryn sighed. ‘”We have to try”, as you said.’ Their questions had gotten them nowhere: no one had seen him.
‘That was over two monens ago,’ Zhaan said.
Aeryn brushed her hand over her pulse pistol to stop herself shouting. ‘Don’t priests have to practice patience?’
‘Patience is not the same as this wilful stupidity.’ Zhaan waved her hand, encompassing the market stalls and the sky in one expansive sweep.
Aeryn followed the arc of her hand, before setting her eyes firmly on the Delvian. ‘I call it hope.’ She tried to stop herself from thinking that’s exactly what he’d have said.
‘Call it what you like. I am not participating in this farce any longer.’
‘Fine. Continue to act like a child.’ She turned to examine the food on display. ‘It’s very helpful.’ She wished once more she’d brought D’Argo, but lately, he’d seemed to want to talk about his feelings - how he worried they wouldn’t find John, how he wanted to find home, how he was confused about how he felt (like she could help). It was alarming and Crichtonesque, and she just couldn’t deal with it right now.
‘Me, the child?’ Zhaan smiled. ‘You’re the one continuing to wish for something that’s not real.’
I’m sick of you. Aeryn squashed the thought. ‘What’s not real, Zhaan? There is a very real chance he’s alive, and we owe it to him - ‘
‘We? Or do you just regret - ‘
Aeryn turned. ‘I regret nothing,’ she snapped, glaring.
Zhaan nodded, once. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But I will not be searching any longer. He is dead.’
‘We shall see.’
…
‘I’m happy to be back,’ he said to her spine.
‘I just hope you learnt your lesson,’ she said. ‘You could have been - you could have hurt Moya.’
‘Yeah, and I said sorry. But three months in time out is a pretty big incentive not to do it again.’
‘I suppose.’
‘I wouldn’t want to do it again.’
‘Alright.’
‘I missed you, Aeryn.’
She looked at him. ‘You were sick of me,’ she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact rather than hurt.
‘No, I was being a meaniepants,’ he said, with a grin. ‘And I said sorry for that.’
‘It didn’t bother me,’ she said quickly. ‘So you don’t have to apologise.’
He tilted his head. ‘You just brought it up.’
‘Not because it bothered me.’
‘Alright. It didn’t bother you. I get it.’
‘Good.’
He stepped closer. ‘So, did you miss me?’
‘You have your uses, Crichton.’
‘Coming from you, that’s the best compliment ever,’ he said. ‘I might use it in my CV.’
…
He’d go into the village once or twice a week to trade, swapping lobster meat for seasonings, bread, tools. He thought they took pity on him, as he came away with far more than he gave them, considering how many hunters they had.
He hoped that, for the villagers’ sake, they never encountered Dominar Rygel’s idea of a fair trade, made with an impatient Aeryn hovering in the background. He figured those two could probably walk away with the whole village.
…
‘Cee vee? The thing you watch pictures on?’
‘And I thought you didn’t listen. No. It’s like, a list, of everything you’re good at.’
‘So yours would be rather short, then.’
John grinned. ‘You’re kinda expected to lie.’
‘Then what’s the point?’
‘I’m not sure.’
…
‘Are you well, Officer Sun?’
‘Of course, Pilot,’ Aeryn said, looking up from her place in front of his console. She was tinkering with one of the DRDs - it had been damaged in one of D’Argo’s temper tantrums at Rygel. ‘Why?’
‘I enjoy your company, but you’ve been in here a lot more than I’ve come to expect since, since Crichton’s disappearance.’
Aeryn smiled quickly and turned back to the DRD. ‘I am enjoying the quiet while it lasts, Pilot.’
‘You aren’t, missing, him then?’
She reminded herself that Pilot probably didn’t deserve to be yelled at for showing concern. ‘No,’ Aeryn said. ‘I - I suppose I’ll be glad to see him again. But I’m not missing him.’ And she wasn’t crying. Her eyes were just sore, tired and sore.
…
He sighed, and took a step away from her.
‘Well, I guess, I’ll see you around,’ he said. ‘You know, small ship and all.’
‘Not that small.’
‘Smaller than the entire universe,’ he said, smiling. ‘I really did miss you. I want you to know that.’
‘I know.’
He grinned. ‘And I know you missed me.’
She paused, smiled. ‘Whatever you say, Crichton.’
Rating: PG-13
Written For: marieelise0928
Written by: buddikins
Notes: Written for Marieelise0928’s prompt in the Farscapeland fic exchange: John apologizes to Aeryn for his freakout, set after Jeremiah Crichton. MERRY (frelling) CHRISTMAS.
When he set foot back on Moya, after three months - monens, maybe - away, Zhaan greeted him with open arms and tears on her face.
Aeryn was nowhere to be seen.
…
He found her in Command. She had her back to him, her head lowered and her fingers tracing over the console. He knew she must have heard him, but she didn’t turn, and he admired the view, waiting for her to crack. She didn’t.
He cleared his throat. ‘Don’t I get a hug?’
‘I imagine Zhaan already gave you one,’ she said, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes traced down his body, settling somewhere around his chin. Any other time, he’d have told himself it was because she wanted to kiss him, but he had to concede that, right now, she was probably working out his beard.
‘How about a hello, then?’
‘Hello, Crichton.’
…
The first month, he’d hated them, all of them, for leaving him, for being petty and stupid, and leaving him to die.
‘Yeah? Yeah?! Screw you too!’ he’d screamed up at the sky, standing on the beach and shaking his fists. ‘Last time I save you from mad scientists and, and, giant cockroaches! When I get outta here, I’m gonna track you down and explain the plot of Zaat! You think I won’t? Human nonsense! I’ll give you human nonsense! Frell! Frell frelling frell fuck!’
That was how the islanders had found him, throwing fistfuls of sand at the sky.
Lishala had explained later, that at first they’d thought (hoped) he was a god, then maybe a prophet, then simply a man, though she’d paused as if she really wanted to say ‘freak’. Apparently this process had happened rather quickly, and he thought he should probably be offended. But, he guessed that if Jesus had been swearing at the sky, he’d have been relegated back to crazy too.
…
‘You look like dren,’ Aeryn said. This wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured Crichton. She figured when they found him, he’d been skinny, unable as he was to take care of himself. Though, maybe a little tougher, a little more wild.
(She’d sort of thought it would be good for him, actually, but she didn’t tell people that.)
She didn’t think he would be more or less the same, but she found she liked it.
…
Somewhere around the second month, he noticed Lishala’s attraction to him, despite (or perhaps because of) his Robinson Crusoe inspired beard. That’d make sense. Caroline had loved Brosnan’s beard.
‘Would you like me to bring you a razor?’ she said, delicately, toes in the water.
He scratched his chin. ‘When a white guy gets stuck on an island, they grow a beard, get some dreads,’ he said. ‘I ain’t one to ruin tradition.’
She looked at him. ‘This happens often to your species?’
He grinned. ‘Not often. But it’s well documented.’
He’d cut his hair after one of the lobster things had grabbed hold of it and pulled like a schoolgirl with superpowers, but he kept the beard. It amused him, made him feel like the whole thing was a joke.
Because the guys with beards always made it back to shave ‘em off.
…
He touched his chin, the hair scratching at his fingers. He wanted to say something witty, but all he could manage was, ‘You don’t.’
She gave a half smile, and turned away from him. ‘You should get some rest.’
…
‘Well, he’s not here,’ Rygel said. The other three glared at him. ‘What? He isn’t. And it’s terribly sad, but can we say some frelling words and get the hezmana out of this system? We’re wasting our time.’
Aeryn wondered what frelling words they would end up saying, when the time came. He was a good man, and an idiot, and he was sick of me, and I wish he was here anyway. Which made no sense.
‘No,’ D’Argo said. ‘There are other planets he could have made it to.’
‘We must not give up,’ Zhaan said, her eyes bright.
Aeryn scanned the landscape again to avoid looking at any of them. Her eyes itched - she was tired, she supposed, having spent so many days looking at trajectories and rough charts.
Rygel gave a world-weary sigh, turning his throne sled in the direction of the transport pod. ‘So long as the Peacekeepers don’t find us first.’
D’Argo offered Aeryn a smile as he passed, and she determinedly ignored it. Ever since the Flax, he’d been keeping a closer eye on her- smugly at first, and now, she thought, sadly.
It drove her mad.
…
‘I don’t need rest,’ he said. ‘I came to see you.’ He laughed. ‘Well, really, you came to see me, I guess. Just in time for our da-’ He broke off.
She felt awkward, tense, like her arms were suddenly too heavy. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally.
He coughed. ‘I came to say sorry. Well, hello and sorry.’
…
He imagined at length what he’d say if he ever saw any of them again, which led to a rather interesting conversation with head-Aeryn one night, after a copious amount of the local equivalent of beer.
He’d cuddled up to her, said: ‘Why’d you leave me? I thought we had something.’
She’d laughed. ‘You sound like someone from freaking Titanic. Grow a pair, Crichton.’
He’d looked at her, reimagined her chin, her hair. It looked like Aeryn. ‘You don’t really sound like you. At all. I think I fucked up this daydream.’
‘Your human nonsense fucks everything up.’ But she’d been undressing, and he figured that all a good daydream needed was a pretty someone naked, so he’d gone with it.
He’d grabbed her by the arms, pushed her down, and said: ‘I’ll give you human nonsense.’
It had been satisfying.
Which wasn’t exactly what she’d said. But, well, she was out of character anyway, so it didn’t count.
…
She looked puzzled. ‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘I feel like I do.’
‘Right.’ She raised her eyebrows.
He wondered if she even remembered what he’d said, if she paid that little attention to his opinion. ‘I appreciate you looking for me, even after I was a huge dick to you. To everyone.’
She blinked. ‘I don’t think I understood that one.’
‘It means I was an idiot, a meaniepants.’ He grinned.
‘I see.’ She smiled back, and he thought that maybe that would be that; Butch and Sundance once again. ‘Looking for you wasn’t my idea,’ she said abruptly.
He almost laughed, watching her fold back into herself. ‘So who do I give credit to, then? ‘cause I think it was a great plan. Probably the best one ever.’
‘Unlike letting the pressure in Moya’s amnexus systems build to dangerous levels.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah. Unlike that one. Uh. The problem got fixed?’
‘Eventually. There was a backlog to deal with.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘It was unpleasant.’
‘I remember that. Kinda like the kid’s choice awards, but not as much fun.’
‘If you say so, Crichton.’
He sighed. ‘Human nonsense,’ he muttered.
Her face twitched back into a smile. ‘Yes.’
…
He woke up with the sun, to the sound of birds and running water, and he figured that he could probably get used to it. Or re-used to it, anyway.
He’d always wanted a little cabin by the water, with someone to curl up with. Two out of three wasn’t the worst thing he could think of.
So, he gave up on Earth, and tried to figure out how to have a life here instead.
‘I would’ve liked cable, though,’ he said to Lishala, who was stretched out on the beach, watching the clouds. ‘The sky’s nice, but it ain’t HBO.’
`
She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. ‘You are very odd,’ she said, voice teasing, flirty.
It pained him, and he nearly kissed her just to make it stop.
…
He leaned up against the console. ‘So, what’s new?’
Her brow wrinkled. ‘Well. You’re back.’
‘Yeah, I noticed that.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s nothing else.’
‘Something must have happened while I was away.’
‘No.’
‘What, do you need me here to have adventures?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just quieter. Although D’Argo nearly got arrested, once.’
‘What happened?’
‘We left before they could.’
‘No, I mean… oh, I’ll just ask him. How’s, uh, Pilot been?’
‘You should go talk to him,’ she said. ‘He’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘More pleased than you?’
…
John grew to expect Rokon’s visits, usually timed to allow Lishala to see John fail and Rokon succeed. As far as John could tell, it did no good; Lishala apparently loved losers with sunburnt skin.
So, he wasn’t surprised to hear Rokon’s laugh as he pounced towards the cat/alligator/horse/ thing he’d managed to sneak up on.
‘You aren’t a very good hunter,’ Rokon announced, looking on with disdain as John’s meal scampered away into the trees, bleating like a sheep.
John huffed, hands on his knees. ‘You’re pulling my leg, ain’t you? No way can you catch those things.’
Rokon puffed out his chest - John would need to pad a bra to get that kind of chest - and smiled smugly. He was reminded irresistibly of D’Argo.
Rokon stalked up to the trees, and emerged five minutes later with the deer/lizard/lion thing draped over his shoulders like a feather boa.
‘See?’
‘You gonna teach me to do that?’
‘I don’t think you can be taught,’ Rokon said, dumping the carcass at his feet. ‘But here you are.’
John saw Lishala walking up the beach out the corner of his eye, and sighed. ‘You’ve got a big heart, Rokon.’ To go with your other freakish muscles.
…
Aeryn turned back to the console, facing away from him. ‘Did you apologise to Zhaan?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
She glanced at him. ‘For the sake of the relationships on Moya.’
‘What? You care about how Zhaan feels? That’s new.’ His voice had a bite to it and her back stiffened.
‘I simply do not wish for her to be so completely disagreeable for the next three monens,’ Aeryn said, tone clipped.
‘You and Zhaan disagreeing? Yeah, that’s new.’ He trailed off, and she didn’t say anything. ‘Well, I guess… I apologised, and… said hey, so…’
…
‘I am not leaving Moya again,’ Zhaan snapped, glaring around the small square. ‘This is foolish.’
Aeryn sighed. ‘”We have to try”, as you said.’ Their questions had gotten them nowhere: no one had seen him.
‘That was over two monens ago,’ Zhaan said.
Aeryn brushed her hand over her pulse pistol to stop herself shouting. ‘Don’t priests have to practice patience?’
‘Patience is not the same as this wilful stupidity.’ Zhaan waved her hand, encompassing the market stalls and the sky in one expansive sweep.
Aeryn followed the arc of her hand, before setting her eyes firmly on the Delvian. ‘I call it hope.’ She tried to stop herself from thinking that’s exactly what he’d have said.
‘Call it what you like. I am not participating in this farce any longer.’
‘Fine. Continue to act like a child.’ She turned to examine the food on display. ‘It’s very helpful.’ She wished once more she’d brought D’Argo, but lately, he’d seemed to want to talk about his feelings - how he worried they wouldn’t find John, how he wanted to find home, how he was confused about how he felt (like she could help). It was alarming and Crichtonesque, and she just couldn’t deal with it right now.
‘Me, the child?’ Zhaan smiled. ‘You’re the one continuing to wish for something that’s not real.’
I’m sick of you. Aeryn squashed the thought. ‘What’s not real, Zhaan? There is a very real chance he’s alive, and we owe it to him - ‘
‘We? Or do you just regret - ‘
Aeryn turned. ‘I regret nothing,’ she snapped, glaring.
Zhaan nodded, once. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But I will not be searching any longer. He is dead.’
‘We shall see.’
…
‘I’m happy to be back,’ he said to her spine.
‘I just hope you learnt your lesson,’ she said. ‘You could have been - you could have hurt Moya.’
‘Yeah, and I said sorry. But three months in time out is a pretty big incentive not to do it again.’
‘I suppose.’
‘I wouldn’t want to do it again.’
‘Alright.’
‘I missed you, Aeryn.’
She looked at him. ‘You were sick of me,’ she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact rather than hurt.
‘No, I was being a meaniepants,’ he said, with a grin. ‘And I said sorry for that.’
‘It didn’t bother me,’ she said quickly. ‘So you don’t have to apologise.’
He tilted his head. ‘You just brought it up.’
‘Not because it bothered me.’
‘Alright. It didn’t bother you. I get it.’
‘Good.’
He stepped closer. ‘So, did you miss me?’
‘You have your uses, Crichton.’
‘Coming from you, that’s the best compliment ever,’ he said. ‘I might use it in my CV.’
…
He’d go into the village once or twice a week to trade, swapping lobster meat for seasonings, bread, tools. He thought they took pity on him, as he came away with far more than he gave them, considering how many hunters they had.
He hoped that, for the villagers’ sake, they never encountered Dominar Rygel’s idea of a fair trade, made with an impatient Aeryn hovering in the background. He figured those two could probably walk away with the whole village.
…
‘Cee vee? The thing you watch pictures on?’
‘And I thought you didn’t listen. No. It’s like, a list, of everything you’re good at.’
‘So yours would be rather short, then.’
John grinned. ‘You’re kinda expected to lie.’
‘Then what’s the point?’
‘I’m not sure.’
…
‘Are you well, Officer Sun?’
‘Of course, Pilot,’ Aeryn said, looking up from her place in front of his console. She was tinkering with one of the DRDs - it had been damaged in one of D’Argo’s temper tantrums at Rygel. ‘Why?’
‘I enjoy your company, but you’ve been in here a lot more than I’ve come to expect since, since Crichton’s disappearance.’
Aeryn smiled quickly and turned back to the DRD. ‘I am enjoying the quiet while it lasts, Pilot.’
‘You aren’t, missing, him then?’
She reminded herself that Pilot probably didn’t deserve to be yelled at for showing concern. ‘No,’ Aeryn said. ‘I - I suppose I’ll be glad to see him again. But I’m not missing him.’ And she wasn’t crying. Her eyes were just sore, tired and sore.
…
He sighed, and took a step away from her.
‘Well, I guess, I’ll see you around,’ he said. ‘You know, small ship and all.’
‘Not that small.’
‘Smaller than the entire universe,’ he said, smiling. ‘I really did miss you. I want you to know that.’
‘I know.’
He grinned. ‘And I know you missed me.’
She paused, smiled. ‘Whatever you say, Crichton.’