She could feel him watching her across the room, but whenever she looked over to watch him, his gaze was fixed on the rest of the crew. A deep hollow yearning filled her stomach as her eyes slipped over those eyes, those lips, that chest and further.

She was almost startled then when Zhaan called her name. "Chiana? Don't you have anything to contribute to our discussion?"

"Um...no...I...uh...don't, She stammered as she saw his smirk out of the corner of her eye."

"Well this has been fun folks, but I gotta go. See you all in the morning." John said. "Anyone else gonna hit the hay?"

The rest of the group said no, that they were going to stay up awhile longer.

"Suit yourselves, but I'm beat. Good night all."

Chiana said nothing. Instead she slipped away after a brief moment.

She ran silently toward his chambers, not knowing why or even what she was going to do when she got there.

"Going somewhere Pip?" Came his low, soothing voice as she rounded the corner.

And there he was. Standing before her, leaning against the door to his room. Like he had been waiting for her, expecting her.

Her voice came in short bursts as she replied, "I, uh, wanted to talk to you Crichton....about...well about the meeting."

"What about the meeting?"

She walked toward him, coming at him from the side, slightly at an angle, reflecting the off-kilter feeling that coursed through her. Her head turning slightly, her eyes turning even blacker with her lust and longing. She only stopped when she was inches away, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips in an effort to answer.

//Why doesnt he move? she asked herself. Why isn't he trying to leave. Why does he just lean there, staring at me? Watching me come at him?// The questions were driving her crazy, making her feel all the more off-balance, unstable.

"What do you want Chiana?" came the voice from those lips. Frell, she couldnt take her eyes off of those lips.

She felt her arm move upwards, eyes still on lips, head spinning. Her hand came to rest on his jaw, stroking the hard line over and over. She was fascinated with the feel of him.

Suddenly the tears came, she could feel them welling up in her eyes as her face contorted in a mask of grief and anger and confusion. She jerked her hand away to join the other, covering her face.

Her shoulders shook as she turned to leave, wanting to be anywhere but where he could see. See her in her moment of weakness, see her in her grief, see her in her lust and longing. She stumbled forward. "Chiana!" he called to her.

She kept walking, picking up the pace. "Leave me alone John Crichton. Just forget that I did that ok?"

But she could feel him following her...so close behind....so near.....so she stopped and turned toward the wall. Hoping he would just leave. Her hands were in front her, feeling Moya's walls as her sobs turned into silent tears. Willing herself invisible. Concentrating on the feel and the look of what was in front of her.

"Chiana?" this time it was lower and softer, more of a question. She could feel his breathe on her, the heat of his body as he closed in on her.

"Chiana....you've got to tell me what you want. I cant know unless you tell me."

"I can't John, I can't. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry..." The words turning into a mantra. Trying to make the feelings leave. Trying to make him leave.

She felt hands. Strong hands. Slipping, sliding slowly up her back, over her shoulders. Rubbing her back and neck and shoulders. Soothing. Kneading. Stopping to rest on her throat. Cupping her chin. Turning her face.

Dont cry baby, dont cry. came that voice again, in that way, that husky way that always sent shivers down to her toes.

He was kissing her jaw the same way that her hands had caressed his. Gently. Tenderly. Full of passion. More than she could ever imagine could come from just a kiss.