&fic;

 

What She Once Was (Flipping the Script Mix)

by sugargroupie

PG, 1604 words

Summary: now she's turned his world inside out with one (life saving) gesture.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Notes: Spoilers up to Green Eyed Monster. This is my Remix Redux version of You Are Me by Astro Girl. Thanks to Kernezelda and Shannon for beta duties.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

He slows his stride when he passes Rygel and Chiana in the corridor on Talyn. As always, the richness of Peacekeeper colors against Nebari skin causes his gaze to linger. Ryge and Chi are bickering again, and John is unexpectedly grateful that at least their routine hasn't been affected by the day's events.

"Hey Old Man, where you off to?"

He halts and pivots to face them, lets his fingers skim Talyn's wall as he rocks on his heels. "To see our dear Captain. Why? You wanna come with?"

Chiana jerks her head and takes one step in his direction. "Are you tinked?" After what just happened is left unspoken. "Crichton... be careful."

"I'll be fine, Pip. Just keep an eye on Talyn's systems for the next few hours."

"I'm perfectly capable of monitoring Talyn on my own, you know," Rygel interjects.

Chiana meets John's eyes once more, her gaze sharpening. She's obviously biting her tongue. He understands her reluctance, but he can't handle it on top of his own doubts.

John breaks the stalemate by waving them off and Chiana shrugs before poking Rygel's chest, laughing when he snaps at her finger with his teeth. Her voice remains teasing as she says, "Come on Toad, I'll race ya to command."

John rounds the corner and continues to the Captain's quarters, schooling his features to neutral at the open entrance. Crais stands just outside the door, his back to the corridor as he takes one step back.

"Crais," John greets, just as the former Peacekeeper circles to face him, the door shutting quietly after his retreat.

Crais eyes his sudden appearance curiously. "Crichton."

Nearly three years of sharing living space, and Crais is still a man of few words. John sometimes wonders if he isn't using both their allotted amounts.

John gestures at the door. "Is it safe for me to go in there?"

Crais tilts his head, asks, "What do you mean?"

"Talyn's not gonna try to take over again and kill me where I stand, is he?"

Understanding dawns and Crais shakes his head. "Talyn is resting, as is Captain Sun. It is she who saved you, Crichton, or do you not remember?"

"Oh, I remember all my near death experiences," John sighs. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand by habit, feeling tension seep into muscle and bone, as if he has his own neural transponder bleeding sensations into him now that he's within close proximity of Aeryn Sun.

John is pulled from his thoughts by movement from Crais, shifting from one foot to the other. "What?"

Crais continues to stare at him with a perplexed expression before amusement turns his mouth upward. "You seem uncomfortable... nervous, even."

"Just tense as all hell," John answers immediately, and snaps his mouth shut before saying more. They've had this conversation before, about tension that leads to recreation that leads to relief that was the impetus to Talyn's (and if he's honest, his own) jealousy.

"Crichton," Crais begins, "You must understand how Peacekeepers are. Captain Sun--"

He's quick to interrupt, has no intention of rehashing this topic again. Ever. "I know what you're gonna say." He raises a hand to stave off further mention of the PK vid chip that started it all. "I got it."

He wishes to god he didn't get it; that Talyn hadn't shown him what amounts to Peacekeeper porn between two of his shipmates, and he wishes to god that it doesn't matter. My head's all screwed up. It shouldn't matter.

Crais nods, sends a quick glance over his shoulder at the closed quarters and back to John. "I'll be on Command," he says quietly and takes his leave.

John listens as Crais' footfalls head further away, until the corridor is quiet, save for his breathing. He sets his palm against the door and leans his head against his hand, thinking, What the hell am I doing?

No answer, and he's not really surprised. Captain Aeryn Sun has managed to fuck up his life but good since their paths first crossed, and then got kicked out of the Peacekeepers for her trouble. She'd hunted him for nearly a year before being forced to seek asylum on Moya, and his words to her are still clear in his mind: "I keep hearing you've changed, because look at Crais, but no... Weather changes, and we just keep making the same mistakes."

And he'd stubbornly held on to the belief that, at least in Aeryn Sun's case, once a peacekeeper, always a peacekeeper. Now she's turned his world inside out again with one (life saving) gesture.

I keep hearing you've changed...

Now it seems she has.

* * *

He lets himself into Aeryn's room, ready with an explanation should she wake up and demand to know why he has invaded her privacy. He remains quiet for himself, listening for that voice of reason, an explanation -- hell, Harvey's input would be welcome right now -- anything to explain his presence in her room.

Crais says the lesions marring her pale skin are already healing, but John needs to see for himself. He wonders if they will scar, leave behind reminders of the struggle she'd waged with her hybrid ship to save his life.

He wonders if he should be preparing to say thank you the next time they speak, and thinks it's not every day the prey is drawn to the hunter.

This is what he keeps coming back to; she'd literally painted a bullseye on his ass, chasing him all over the galaxy seeking revenge over some perceived slight, because some unknown alien had escaped her grasp and she didn't know how to deal.

Because the name John Crichton was a curse on Captain Aeryn Sun's lips.

And somewhere along the way he'd stopped comparing her to Scorpius and started to observe her through a Crais filter, only not. Aeryn Sun is a product of her environment; she's ambitious, she hates to lose (like Scorpius), she has a moral compass, she will not stop.

Except, when given the opportunity to end her pursuit of him for a greater purpose.

John has never been so grateful to be set aside in favor of a gunship.

Eventually Aeryn Sun traded hunting for haunting, presenting a side to herself John didn't want to believe existed. But this change hounded him, and when he later learned that she and Talyn had helped to rescue him from Scorpy's clutches at the depository, well... the denial didn't quite fit the same.

His turn to change now. And so on, and so on.

While John's never explicitly said he's always known Crais could grow beyond his training, the words are there for Aeryn. At times they are too stifling, heavy enough to get lodged in his throat and then he has no words for her at all, only screams of indignation. Other times -- most days -- he finds enough kindness in himself, southern hospitality spiked with bravado, to see past the layers of Captain Sun. He can see the potential, the more she can be if she allows.

He stands at the foot of her bed and stares at her sleeping face. He remembers Bialar telling him Peacekeepers don't dream. Aeryn looks peaceful, her body boneless within the red and black sheets. Resting soundly, as if Talyn hadn't taken her through the wringer less than one day ago.

You can leave now, John, and Captain Sun would be none the wiser.

I was wondering when you'd show up.

Someone has to remind you of the absurdity of this crush you have.

It's not a crush.

No, John, you fancy yourself in love with her.

I... am not having this conversation with you, Harv.

You can't dismiss me simply because I'm telling you what you insist on denying. I'm your voice of reason John. You asked for my advice.

Well, I've changed my mind. Now get out of my sight.

Harvey huffs with indignation and disappears, leaving John alone to observe Aeryn's sleep. He isn't sure what he feels for the Peacekeeper (former), but its impression is a little like fear settling uncomfortably on his chest. He's not sure what to do with these feelings she's triggered, so he does nothing. He puts it away to obsess about later and cobbles out another reason for his visit as Aeryn stirs.

Bleary eyes blink slowly until they focus on his face. "Crichton," she murmurs, "what are you doing here?"

Her voice is low, strained from its previous overuse. She's always been economical with her words, never saying something without meaning it. That she's expending what energy she's managed to gain to ask him something as inconsequential as what are you doing here forces him to regroup in the face of her effort. It's shades of Bialar Crais all over again.

John considers closing the distance by coming to sit at her side, but instead reaches for the chair nearby, straddling it with ease. "I just wanted... Thanks, for earlier."

There's nothing more to say, and Aeryn nods slightly before drifting back to sleep. It occurs to John, how very different this moment is from the last time they were alone, nearly an arm's length apart. Then, they were separated by one of Moya's cell doors, tension in both their shoulders and tears running unchecked down his cheeks.

Now, John is content with the silence, with being in Aeryn Sun's presence and looking at her with new eyes. He's not sure who she is yet, but he's looking forward to seeing where her path leads.

*

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