Disclaimer: Obviously Farscape is owned by the Jim Henson Comapany and all the other grand High Mucky Mucks. I am making no money from this and any copyright infringement is unintentional(it's all in fun) Any similarity to any other story not my own in coicidence.
"When I Saw You;" Daydream; Mariah Carey; 1995.
Rating: PG to be safe; rated for drug use(Laka) and kissing
Timeline: Somewhere between Fractures and Twice Shy, probably closer to TS
Summary: Just another exploration of angst. John receives something from Aeryn that tests his resolve.
When I Saw You
Soft heavenly eyes gazed into me, transcending space and time, and I was rendered still. There were no words for me to find at all, as I stood there beside myself I could see you and no one else.
When I saw you... When I saw you I could not breathe... I fell so deep... When I saw you... When I saw you... I'd never be I'd never be the same...
Only once in a lifetime, love rushes in, changing you with the tide. And dawn's ribbon of light bursts through the dark, waking you inside. And I thought it was all untrue, until there all at once I knew...
When I saw you... When I saw you... I could not breathe... I fell so deep... When I saw you... When I saw you... I'd never be I'd never be the same...
With no beginning, and without an end, you are the one for me, and it's evident. And your eyes told me so. Your eyes let me know...
I saw you... When I saw you... I could not breathe... I fell so deep... When
I saw you... When I
saw you... I'd never be... I'd never be the same... Never be the same...
"Tell me what to do, John. Just tell me what I need to do," Aeryn said quietly, her voice almost uncharacteristically soft and touched with a quiet desire.
"Oh, God, Aeryn," John practically gasped from where he stood mere inches from the beautiful dark haired Sebacean.
Aeryn closed those last few inches separating her from John and reached up to rest her hand lightly on his cheek. Her ocean blue eyes found his own crystal blue ones with a look so full of longing and desire that it made his heart ache.
"John," she whispered, so close now that their breaths mingled; close enough to kiss, if they only dared. Her other hand came to rest on his chest, lying lightly over his rapid heartbeat.
Before he could want to stop himself, John reached his own hand out to run it tenderly through Aeryn's long hair, his fingers slipping through the soft curls. He reached his other hand to her face, his fingers slowly and softly tracing the curve of her cheek. Aeryn leaned lightly into his caress and closed her eyes, her breath sighing out softly in response.
In a moment of vivid clarity, John remembered what it was to feel the sweet softness of Aeryn's lips beneath his own. Irresistibly, the overwhelming sense memory chased all other thought from his mind as he leaned forward, his lips so close to hers that the merest breath would cause them to touch. Aeryn opened her eyes and John knew that the love he saw in their vivid blue depths was reflected in his own.
John suddenly found himself breathless, so he simply brought his lips to Aeryn's. He softly captured her mouth in the gentle caress, breathing in their shared desire.
The kiss was tentative at first, light and whisper soft. It didn't long remain so. In that moment, they found that nothing was more important than the passion between them. In that moment, they were one breath, one heart, one need. They were drowning in each other, and still it wasn't near enough.
Aeryn pulled John to her and he pressed her up against the wall of the corridor. Her hands began to slide his black leather jacket off his shoulders. John's own hands caressed Aeryn's skin where it was exposed between her leather vest and her pants.
Suddenly, Crichton practically flung himself away from her. It startled Aeryn enough that her eyes went wide, and their rich depths reflected both her surprise at the sudden loss of John's caresses, and a desire every bit as strong as his. She watched John with a pained expression as he leaned against the far wall of the corridor, his breath coming in gentle pants as if he had been running a marathon through Moya's corridors.
"Aeryn, I don't want to do this with you," John gasped quietly in an aching voice, as if by saying so, it would make the lie true.
"Do what, John," Aeryn asked as she stepped forward, once more trying to close the distance between herself and Crichton.
This," he said, gesturing to indicate something between them. "This, Aeryn."
"John," Aeryn replied, a note of despair tingeing her voice as she saw John turning cold, shutting himself and his heart away from her.
"No," he replied, holding up a hand, as if by such a gesture he could hold back everything he felt, and Aeryn besides. "No, Aeryn."
Then, before Aeryn's yearning and aching silence could stop him, John escaped down Moya's corridors, leaving the beautiful woman behind.
After a few moments, John found himself quickening his pace until he was in a full run, trying to outrun Aeryn and everything he felt for her. The air burned in his lungs and the walls blurred into a haze of gold around him as he ran through Moya's corridors. It took only moments for him to reach his quarters and stumble into them. Violently, he flung himself to the bed and blindly groped for the bag of laka bulbs that he had already tossed on the golden sheets earlier in the day.
Desperately, he inhaled a laka bulb as he sat up on the edge of his bed, but the memories of Aeryn still crowded his mind with an overwhelming desire. John reached for another bulb, as vivid images of the beautiful Sebacean flashed through his fevered imagination. Only when the first wisps of numbness began to suffuse his system, did he begin to breath more steadily. With a conscious effort, he tried to thrust his memories of Aeryn aside.
As John lay back on the golden sheets, he heard something fall from the bed to the floor with a dull thump. He rolled on his side and looked over the edge of the bed in the direction of the sound. Looking down to the floor, John saw his small red journal where it had fallen open, it's pages to the floor. With a soft groan, he reached down and picked up the well used book. As he did so, John noticed a paper slip loose and flutter to the ground.
Carefully, he set his journal on a small table next to the bed and reached down to retrieve the loose piece of parchment. Slowly, John sat up in the bed and leaned back against the wall contemplating the neatly folded paper that he held lightly. Slowly, he turned the folded paper over, still not opening it, almost certain that he could smell Aeryn's light scent coming from it.
His hands began to tremble slightly as he recognized his name written in painstakingly precise English, the characters stark black against the cream colored paper. The simple, "John," called to him; urged him to open the letter that Aeryn had left for him in his journal.
"When did she write it?" he wondered. "When did Aeryn learn how to write English?"
Carefully, John opened the letter to be greeted by the same painstakingly scribed English characters.
"John," he read.
"Oh, God, Aeryn, I can't do this," he whispered. "Please, I don't…I can't do this," John gasped, even though he continued to read the letter, unable to not do so…
"If there's one thing that you have taught me, it is to never leave something unsaid when it needs to be spoken. And, John, this needs to be said.
When you lay in my arms, dying, I felt the best part of me die with you. I had never known such pain, and I felt broken without you. When I returned to Moya, all I wanted was to run into your arms. I wanted you to hold me, love me, heal me, as you had so many times before. But how could I do that; you were dead.
So I did what I had always done when I felt you move too deep in my heart and soul; I ran.
I didn't want to hurt you John. You must believe that. I never wanted to hurt you, but you were dead. The man that I had loved so deeply that it was almost overwhelming, had died painfully in my arms, even though I had begged the universe to let him live. I had finally allowed myself to have what I had wanted for so long, then it was gone; you were gone, but not gone. I was so hurt and confused, and you wanted me so much; too much. I wanted you too much too, needed you too much, to face that. I'm sorry.
Oh, John, I'm so sorry…"
John tore his eyes away from the pained letter, his heart aching. Tempted, he reached for the nearby bag of laka, but at the last moment, stayed his hand. Irresistibly, his eyes were drawn back to Aeryn's letter, and he continued to read the words her heart…
"I ran because I was so scared John. Me, the solider of dozens of campaigns, born and bred to be a fighter and a pilot, was scared of what I had felt and what I continued to feel for you. I looked into your eyes, and I saw him, my John, but my John was dead.
So I went back to what I knew, but changed. I was a peacekeeper again, but this time, I was fighting for the right things, and for the right reasons. I thought that it would be enough. I thought that it would be all I needed.
But, John, I was wrong. I need you. I love you.
I'm sorry that it took me so long to figure that out.
I love John Crichton.
Such a simple truth. What I realize now, is that I have loved you from the moment that I first met you.
That scared me then, knowing that loving you would be the end of Officer Sun's life, and the beginning of Aeryn's. But that doesn't scare me anymore. The only thing that frightens me now, is the thought of never holding you again, never laughing with you, never making love with you again, or not being able to raise this baby with you.
You said to come back to you when I had my story straight. Well then, John, here's my story: Once there was a Peacekeeper named Officer Sun. And one day, she met a confusing, irritating, wonderful, and handsome human from 'Erp.' Before she could even question it, she had fallen in love with him. And now, she can not imagine her life without him.
I love you, John Crichton, and there's nothing more to say…"
John's hands trembled and a silent tear slipped from his cheek to fall hopelessly onto Aeryn's letter. "Nothing," John whispered in a lost, aching voice, as he reached out desperately for another laka bulb…