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Simplicity in Spades
Third Place for the 2004 Sparky Awards' Sparky's Second Chances
Originally posted on Kansas September 16, 2003
Title: Simplicity in Spades
Author: WhiteLight
Rating: PG
Spoilers: LATP trilogy
Setting: Post LATP
Author's Note : Just to let everyone know I'm not a total angst fool, I give you this. It'd been sitting on my hard drive for almost four months and I finished a few days ago after a kick from frelledbyfate. One of the lines toward the end is hers.
Drink. Fill. Drink. Fill. Drink. Fill.
Getting drunk is an art form. You don't want to drink too much where you're falling down and vomiting on people's feet. But, you don't want to drink too little, have a good buzz going on, but still remember your name, your address, and most importantly, the reason your drinking in the first place.
Nope, gotta drink until you think your name's Joe from down the street and you can just make it back to your room with a few stumbles along the way.
John Crichton picks up his glass of raslak, salutes the panoramic view of the space scape, and tosses it down his throat. He feels the acidic burn as it goes down, coating his throat, corroding his liver.
Alcohol, it does a body good.
The Royal Planet is just a twinkle in Moya's rear view mirror, his marriage and unborn child flitting away under his newly acquired drunken glow.
Give a little and take it back, that's his new motto. He's lost a child but gained the dreams of having another in the span of arns. Worth it? Not sure but thinking of future children with a woman he was falling in love with helps ease the pain of the child he would never know, would never know him.
"Having fun?" Well, speak of the proverbial devil. He turns his head, smiles, or at least he thinks he does, and waves an unsteady hand at her. Drunken man waving a pretty girl. It's high school all over again.
"Hi honey. Fun? Yep, just getting reacquainted with my old friend alcohol. Wish this was bourbon or rum. Those could always thrash me beyond repair," he says, picking up the bottle of raslak and attempting to read the Sebacean print.
"Why are you drinking?" He shakes his head, tries to clear the befuddlement, and considers her question.
"Because, drinking is necessary to my survival. And because I'm drowning my sorrows."
"Hmmm." He listens to Aeryn's feet slap the deck gently, hears the erratic step, cringes because of her audible leg injury. He looks up at her, smiles blearily, and runs a hand down her healing leg. She doesn't pull away.
"Leg all better?"
"It's fine. You, however, are not," she says matter of factly, plucking the bottle of liquor out of his hands and, consequentially, out of his reach.
"Hey! That's mine. I called it." She doesn't answer, just walks away with the bottle, sets it carefully outside the door, and shuts the door.
No more liquor. He frowns and mourns it passing. Bye bye raslak, we had good times.
"It's not very nice to come between a man and his liquor. In some instances, it can be downright dangerous. Better be glad I'm a nice drunk," he says, lowering himself onto his belly until his cheek is pressed against the cool deck.
"You can have it back when we're done," Aeryn says from somewhere close. He pops an eye open and catches an eyeful of a bent knee and booted foot. She's sitting cross-legged next to him, looking at the stars.
"What're we gonna be doing then? Cuz, I'm not good for much right now. I don't think I could even spell my name." He says it with the intention of making her laugh. She doesn't, just sighs and looks down at him sadly.
"What's wrong John?" Oh no, talking. She wants to talk. He turns his head so he's looking away from her and squirms into the deck.
"Nothin. You interrupted my bender, that's all."
"No, I don't think that's it at all. You didn't come to last meal. Now, you're drinking yourself drunk? Something's obviously bothering you."
"Wasn't hungry, felt like getting drunk. Nothing too deep Aeryn. Just me being human."
"No it's not. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? I can sit here all day and wait." He snorts into the deck and stills. She'll get bored eventually and leave just like she always does.
So, he waits. And waits. And wait.
She doesn't leave. Just sits there quietly, breathing softly, smelling so good. Damn woman, making him fall in love with her. Damn stupid human for not being able to be silent. Damn Fate.
"I lost something on the Royal Planet," he finally says, mumbling it quickly into the deck.
"Oh? What did you lose?"
"Something important. Something that can't be replaced," he says cryptically.
"Are you going to make me guess?" Would be fun, he thinks but quickly discards the idea. No, this is not a confession to play around with, especially not with Miss Frontal Assault, Aeryn Sun.
"Katralla was pregnant." There, he's said it. He's told a woman he can see himself being with for forever and all time that another woman was pregnant with his child.
She takes it surprisingly well, only gasping slightly.
"She was?" She's so strong, keeping her voice so steady. He, on the other hand, feels like crying.
"Yeah. I found out just before we left. It was going to be a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was so beautiful." The tears are finally released and he watches them spill onto Moya's golden deck. They pool into a small puddle near his nose and it makes him think of the beach from home, small water wings, and matted blonde hair plastered to a small head.
She pulls on his shirt, tugs it out of his pants, and snakes her hand onto the bare skin of his back. He starts, the sensation of her cool hand on his warm skin a little surprising.
His girl was evolving, initiating intimacy. She begins a slow caress of his lower back, giving him contact with something during his emotional release. He wonders what the hell she did during her time on the Royal Planet.
"I'm sorry John."
"I should be saying that to you. I got us into that mess."
"Maybe. But, we are all at fault in one way or another. Still, you lost the most on that planet." Might as well tack on another confession to his previous one while she's being all understanding and desirable. Hell, she'd be desirable covered in engine grease.
"I was ready to stay there. I was willing to go Han Solo again so I could be a father. I was ready to give everything I have here to be a father to that little girl."
Her hand stills for a microt, considering his newest information. It resumes the gentle rubbing a microt later and he smiles inwardly.
"You were doing what you thought was right. A child needs a father and you wanted to give it to her."
When'd she get so damn smart?
"I really wanted that kid Aeryn. In that short moment I saw her, I saw our life together, saw me dropping her off for school lessons, teaching her to ride a bike, hiding her from boys. All that jazz. Damn, I wanted to be a father so bad."
She's gone quiet again but is still caressing his back, keeping him grounded, keeping him from flying off the handle.
What she says next shocks the hell out of him.
"Maybe you'll get that chance again." His breath catches, chokes, and a pleasurable glow overwhelms his body. Fuck being drunk, being shocked by Aeryn Sun was much better. She hadn't said anything direct but he could read between the lines. He was an MIT graduate, after all.
"Thanks Aeryn." He turns his head back over so he can see her. She looks calmer than he's seen her in ages, at peace. And God, so damn beautiful it hurts.
"Your welcome."
The End
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