&fic;

 

To The Rescue

by sugargroupie

PG, 781 words

Summary: Even if she couldn't understand the words it was better than the silence.

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

Notes: Written for the farscapefriday First Line challenge. Season 2ish. Thanks muchly to Stars and Kernezelda for looking it over and offering advice. Mistakes remain mine.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

"I said, thanks a lot, Montoya."

Aeryn's first instinct was to dismiss the words as more of Crichton's incessant mumblings, but she needed him to stay alert, at least until they were back on Moya. He'd been in and out of consciousness since she'd found him again on planet, and what little she knew about human physiology recognized the signs of a concussion.

Vicorsi was a far cry from anything commerce-related, but they'd been onboard the leviathan so long even her spacious halls seemed cramped. Crichton appeared to have needed the break more than anybody; pacing his quarters in the middle of the sleep cycle, agitation flaring up without a microt's notice.

Aeryn had been only too eager to fly down and see what the planet had to offer, with Crichton tagging along. It was only moments after being submersed by the dusty atmosphere that she saw the wanted beacons, and less time than that to discover John was no longer by her side.

She cursed the Human for always wandering off; for not being as cautious as she needed him to be. Cursed his existence as she tracked him to an alley where he was surrounded by a couple of Miinash bounty hunters.

Cursed herself for not acting quickly enough.

Seeing that Crichton had already been injured and lay motionless on the ground, Aeryn immediately shot the bounty hunters. She was familiar with their tactics; greatly sought-after resources, unique to their race that'd led to her unit being sent on a Search and Retrieve assignment so many cycles ago.

She remembered standing over her first capture of that mission, pressing the barrel of her rifle into the uneven skin of its head. The Miinash were a brutish race, and one of the most efficient at eluding the Peacekeeper's grasp-- until the Pleisar's. She firmly pushed back the memories of how she'd celebrated the success of that campaign...

Aeryn could only sigh in relief that she'd reached them in time to prevent any major damage.

"Crichton, what does that mean?" she asked through clenched teeth, her arms straining against the dead weight of John's body.

Risking a quick glance, she found her question was met with a blank stare. She looped his arm around her shoulders and grasped his face between her hands. "Crichton? John! I need you to focus for me... John?"

His eyes flitted erratically until they landed on her face, widening as if seeing her for the first time. "A-Aeryn?"

She nodded, biting her lip to hide the worry she wore like a shroud whenever Crichton was in trouble. That blank stare, too-bright eyes that she'd seen more than once while walking the halls of Moya; Aeryn knew something wasn't... right, she just didn't know what the frell she was supposed to do about it.

"Yes. I need you to concentrate, can you do that?"

"Yeah," he answered and forced his limbs to cooperate.

"Now, what is Mont-oya?"

"Montoya?" he repeated slowly and affected a butchered accent. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

"What?"

"Not what... Aeryn. Who."

"Well who is it Crichton? Someone you know?"

"Nah. You 'member me telling you about movies?" Crichton was leaning heavily against her, lethargy causing him to stumble over his own feet.

"And what the frell does that have to do with anything?"

"He wanted to avenge his father's death..." The words faltered and he sighed before continuing, "Right before fighting the dude that murdered his dad he said those words." John turned his head in her direction. "You're just like 'em babe... well, you're much prettier and you use guns ...but you would've killed the bastards if they killed me, I know it." He nuzzled the side of her neck and fell silent again.

Aeryn slapped his face lightly. "John, stay awake. It's just a little bit further."

He continued to mumble, breath warm against her cheek, a mingling of sweat and dirt filling her nostrils. She pulled him tighter into her side and thought about how relieved she was to hear his never-ending chatter. Even if she couldn't understand, which wasn't unusual, it was better than the silence.

Though she was almost positive she'd change her mind about that later.

Aeryn licked dry lips. "Tell me more about this movie."

John's eyes widened in surprise, but without hesitation he began a long tale. His voice rumbled in his chest, often pausing when the exertion of speaking and walking became too much. But Aeryn would pause, adjust her hold on his body and encourage him to continue.

By the time they reached her Prowler he was babbling. Babbling, and she almost wanted to smile.

*

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