TITLE: ìReluctant Witnessî
AUTHOR: Aiobheann
RATING: R Harsh language, implied m/m relationship.
PAIRING: John/DíArgo
SUMMARY: Aeryn finally realizes how she feels about Crichton, and gets more information than sheís ready to handle. My introduction to my Aeryn muse -- whoída thunk I have one of those? Some Aeryn angst here, not much sex.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me, but they do talk to me. I might as well write it all down, otherwise Iíll end up in a rubber room with one of those jackets with the extra long sleeves on. No money is being made here, so donít sue me. Story copyright Aiobheann, 1999.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. slashdiva@yahoo.com
ìFrelling dren.î Aeryn muttered. She flopped gracelessly over onto her right side, having abandoned lying on her back for lying on her left side mere microts ago. She considered putting her pillow over her head. Asking Zhaan for something to help her sleep. Or better yet, to put them to sleep with. Then at least silence unbroken by moans and indistinct thumps -- thatís the headboard against the wall, her brain helpfully supplied -- would reign and she wouldnít be lying here feeling like an idiot.
Snatching up her pulse rifle and marching down the hallway was another option. She dwelled for a moment on the shock that would be written on their faces when she swung into the doorway, rifle in hand, and threatened to blow their heads off if they did not stop this instant. My John Wayne impression, she thought sourly, and of course that brought her thoughts back to the exact spot she did not want them to be in, the deep rut they had been stuck in for the last few months. Crichton. Crichton and months spent listening to Crichton and DíArgo making -- making a frelling lot of noise, she finished in her head, unwilling to admit even to herself that she was upset about that.
Months spent damning herself for being so much a fool that she could not bring herself to see exactly what she wanted from Crichton until she saw that it could never be hers. She had stomped into the maintenance bay once, intent on yelling at Crichton over something or another -- yelling made her feel just a little better, so she perhaps indulged a bit more than she should have -- and found him shoulders-deep in the module, singing in a low, even voice which she was surprised to find was quite pleasant. He was singing quietly, mostly absorbed in whatever he was doing, and she listened despite herself, anger draining away and being replaced by an overwhelming wave of affection and warmth which left her feeling stunned and slightly stupid from the force of it.
Desperado, why donít you come to your senses...
you been out riding fences for so long now.He paused, humming absently, as if he had forgotten some of the words, and then continued:
Now it seems to me some fine things
have been laid upon your table,
but you only want the ones that you canít get...Desperado, why donít you come to your senses,
Come down from your fences, and open the gate.
It may be raining, but thereís a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you...He left off again, trailing off into humming, and Aeryn had turned and walked away before he could lift his head and see her standing there. With tears on her cheeks. Before he could chase her down and ask his questions, try to hug her -- that would have been too much. She would have said something then. The same thing that she knew she couldnít say now.
She flopped over onto her back again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Without realizing, she listened for any further noise from down the passageway -- nothing. She caught herself listening, and had the good grace to feel ashamed. Why do I care? Heís happy. I should just forget about it. But she knew she wouldnít, couldnít. It was his fault she was here, his fault for ... for being Crichton. Frell. I can pretend all I want to, she thought. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him. No amount of pretending will change it.
He was with DíArgo now. However that had happened, Aeryn wasnít sure -- one day DíArgo had been trying to kill Crichton, then the next thing any of them realized, John and DíArgo were waiting until they were sure the rest of the crew was asleep and then going to the otherís quarters, slipping back out again anyone else could wake up. They think theyíre being clever. Aeryn wouldnít have known herself if she had not been awake once to hear Crichton passing her quarters on the way back to his own. Curious, she had lain awake the next time, waiting, and had heard it again. Before, she had always slept soundly, but after that she had found herself alert even in her sleep for the slightest noise, waking, listening, gathering evidence. Awake, she had heard the noises that had not penetrated her rest before -- quiet, stealthy, at first -- but then occasionally a cry, a muffled name called. Bed noises.
She knew the what of the occurrences, but she didnít know the why -- companionship? lust? love? Why donít you just ask him? she jeered at herself. Of course. March right up to him and say, ìCrichton, I need to know if youíre in love with DíArgo. No, no real reason, except that Iím in love with you myself and I was just wondering.î Then he would look at her with those blue eyes that seemed to see nothing and everything all at once and be concerned for her -- and that would be more than she could bear. No, that was not an option. What is it Crichton says? ìLetís not go thereî?
She caught herself listening down the hallway again, and suddenly she was up and her boots were on and she was going there, she was out of her room and stalking down the corridor to Crichtonís quarters, intent on dragging him out of there and talking to him. Halfway there she realized just how loud she was being and slipped to the side of the corridor, stopping near the door to Crichtonís cell, just around the corner and out of sight. In a distant way, she was amused at herself, stopping to slip her boots off as if she were creeping into his quarters intent on an assassination instead of just talking to him. Amused at how seriously she was approaching this, as if her training, her life as a Peacekeeper would help her win this battle. A battle she was desperately afraid sheíd lost even before she knew there was a reason to fight.
Slipping forward, barefoot and silent, she peered around the corner of the door. If she had not been concentrating so hard on keeping silent, she would have gasped aloud. This was not what she had expected. She was not sure what she had thought, but not this.
In the dim light, she could see -- better than she wanted to -- DíArgo lying on his back, as if he had a perfect right to be in Crichtonís bed, eyes closed, his hand absently stroking the hair of the man lying sprawled across him. The sheet was pulled up, barely covering the curve at the base of Crichtonís spine, light and shadow pooled in the indentation at the small of his back. He rested, boneless and totally relaxed, across DíArgoís chest, head against the Luxanís shoulder, face turned away from the light spilling through the door and into the hollow of DíArgoís throat. DíArgoís face was different, younger somehow, free of the scowl that she realized she had not once seen him without. The love and quiet peace she saw in his expression, the trust in the way Crichton surrendered himself wholly to sleep in DíArgoís arms and the protectiveness with which DíArgo seemed to guard him as he slept, undid her. Without asking, she knew.
She backed away from the door, hand going to her mouth in shock. It would have been easier if they were just fucking, she thought. DíArgo turned his head, eyes opening to search out the source of the soft noise outside the door. His eyes met Aerynís -- he raised up a little, looking at her, mouth opening as if to speak.
Aeryn bolted. She lost her nerve and fled down the corridor, bare feet slapping on the warm metal of the floor, just going, just trying to get away. Away from them, away from what she had seen, away from what she knew she would never have for herself -- not just Crichton. Someone who would hold her that way, watch over her while she slept, love her so completely. She ran, away from all those things. Away from herself.
Blood Brothers series by Aiobheann Blood Brothers: BB 1 Sword Brothers: BB 2 Brothers At Play: BB 3 New Games: BB 4
Slip of the Tongue: BB 5 Dance With the One You Came With: BB 6 Sleeping Arrangements: BB 7
Reluctant Witness: BB 8 Q'uathai: BB 9 Fine Things: BB 10 Chant: BB 11
Dark Brothers