Title: She Said, She Said
Author: Marguerite
Classification: Beatles Song Title Challenge
Spoilers: Die Me, Dichotomy, Season of Death, and Infinite
Possibilities: Icarus Abides. So, yeah, angst. Also contains
a minor spoiler from the deleted scenes portion of the
"Season of Death" DVD.
She Said, She Said
Huddling beneath the covers, body to body, was supposed to keep her warm. Never
mind that the covers and the very bed itself were the provenance of another man,
displaced from his sanctuary. Never mind that huddling worked best when both
bodies were unclothed, not clad in black leather. Never mind that one of the
bodies would never be warm again.
Aeryn wrapped her arms around Crichton, her trembling lips against his
motionless heart, rubbing her hand along his bicep as the flesh cooled and the
muscle stiffened beneath her palm. Try as she might, the last little remnant of
warmth was leaving her lover's body. Dissipating into the molecules of the
bedclothes along with the sharp salt of her tears.
He'd wept for her, D'Argo had once told her over a shared bottle of raslac.
Crichton had wept for her as they'd waited for her corpse to be recovered, grief
flooding out of him in waves. D'Argo and Crais had to tie him up to keep him out
of the frozen lake while Rygel cut the harnesses to let Aeryn's body float back
to the surface. John had cried like no man D'Argo had ever seen, sobbed until at
last he was able to keep a terrible, chilled calm as Zhaan gave her the last
rites.
Such a terrible flow of mourning-blood. Zhaan had given herself up to staunch
it.
Aeryn had no memory past the horrific intake of icy water where air should have
been. Just the black nothingness. Not Crichton's light, not even the Sebacean
void, but a liquid blackness in which she was suspended. Birthing fluid, almost,
and almost peaceful.
John would be warm there, she knew. She knew all about being dead. What she
didn't know yet was how to deal with the sorrow. Aeryn shivered beneath the
blood-red covers. Soon, Stark would come for her, would gently take her away
from John - not John, not anymore - and prepare the body for the capsule Talyn
would provide. She'd have to accept Rygel's clumsy's condolences with grace and
perfect the shadow of a smile she'd need to counter Crais' conflicted sadness.
Mourning was new to her, but she'd learn. She'd learn.
***
END
***
Feedback is welcome at [email protected].
Back to assorted fic.
Author: Marguerite
Classification: Beatles Song Title Challenge
Spoilers: Die Me, Dichotomy, Season of Death, and Infinite
Possibilities: Icarus Abides. So, yeah, angst. Also contains
a minor spoiler from the deleted scenes portion of the
"Season of Death" DVD.
She Said, She Said
Huddling beneath the covers, body to body, was supposed to keep her warm. Never
mind that the covers and the very bed itself were the provenance of another man,
displaced from his sanctuary. Never mind that huddling worked best when both
bodies were unclothed, not clad in black leather. Never mind that one of the
bodies would never be warm again.
Aeryn wrapped her arms around Crichton, her trembling lips against his
motionless heart, rubbing her hand along his bicep as the flesh cooled and the
muscle stiffened beneath her palm. Try as she might, the last little remnant of
warmth was leaving her lover's body. Dissipating into the molecules of the
bedclothes along with the sharp salt of her tears.
He'd wept for her, D'Argo had once told her over a shared bottle of raslac.
Crichton had wept for her as they'd waited for her corpse to be recovered, grief
flooding out of him in waves. D'Argo and Crais had to tie him up to keep him out
of the frozen lake while Rygel cut the harnesses to let Aeryn's body float back
to the surface. John had cried like no man D'Argo had ever seen, sobbed until at
last he was able to keep a terrible, chilled calm as Zhaan gave her the last
rites.
Such a terrible flow of mourning-blood. Zhaan had given herself up to staunch
it.
Aeryn had no memory past the horrific intake of icy water where air should have
been. Just the black nothingness. Not Crichton's light, not even the Sebacean
void, but a liquid blackness in which she was suspended. Birthing fluid, almost,
and almost peaceful.
John would be warm there, she knew. She knew all about being dead. What she
didn't know yet was how to deal with the sorrow. Aeryn shivered beneath the
blood-red covers. Soon, Stark would come for her, would gently take her away
from John - not John, not anymore - and prepare the body for the capsule Talyn
would provide. She'd have to accept Rygel's clumsy's condolences with grace and
perfect the shadow of a smile she'd need to counter Crais' conflicted sadness.
Mourning was new to her, but she'd learn. She'd learn.
***
END
***
Feedback is welcome at [email protected].
Back to assorted fic.