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John was numb. For the second time, he stood over a casket, which held the pale, cold form of the woman he loved. An accident! After all she’d been through, a stupid, frelling accident! This time, he knew, there would be no miracle; there was no Zahn to guide her back.
The night after their near-miraculous escape from the Command Carrier, she’d come to his quarters. They’d spent that night lost in each other, glorying in the fact that they were alive. Since then, they had been nearly inseparable. Each day, each encounter only deepened the joy they felt in each other’s presence… until today.
Just this morning they had been lying languidly in the warmth of each other’s embrace, having skipped breakfast to satisfy a different hunger. Now she was dead! They had been preparing to take on supplies when some mentally deficient stevedore had run a loader into a stack of cargo pods. She could have jumped clear, but pushed him to safety first.
Jool had examined her and pronounced her injuries mortal. John new what must be done. She had been born in space, a Peacekeeper, and would wish to die there… She never regained consciousness, and died en-route to Moya.
The crew stood by to honor her. D’Argo held his Qualta Blade before him in a salute. Crais was dressed in his finest uniform and Rygel in his best robes. The others were, likewise, appropriately formal and solemn. Words were said, and John kissed her one last time. He then closed the casket, and with his own hand, pushed the airlock control, ejecting her into space, and towards the heart of a blue giant star.
Later, in the quarters they had shared, John sat staring at their bed, still in disarray from the previous night’s activities.
He thought back to the day he’d informed the crew of his plan to destroy Scorpius and his wormhole research. They all thought he was crazy, but Aeryn, despite her grief over the death of her lover, John’s double, had stood with him. Crais had followed suit, and plans were laid.
It was clear, now, that they would have perished then but for the fortuitous presence of Jena. After the affair in the Sebacean Breakaway Colonies, the Peacekeeper assassin discovered that she was now considered a liability and was marked for death. She had hijacked a transport and fled. After a cycle on the run, she encountered Moya and asked to be taken in. Her subsequent actions had dispelled any doubts about her intentions. Because of her, they had a future. Who could have known it would end like this?
He took the pillow from the bed and held it to his cheek. “John?” a familiar voice asked from behind.
“I can smell her,” he said, in a choked voice. “If I close my eyes, I can hear her breathing. I can feel her warmth. I reach out to touch her, and she’s not there! She’ll never be there again!”
John turned; the tears were streaming down his cheeks. “The compatibility nectar,” he said, “from the colony. She had a vial. We shared it, so we knew we were… that we could… Oh God! She was pregnant! She told me just this morning.”
He looked up, eyes pleading. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to do what I have done,” said Aeryn, “you’re going to survive. Jena is gone, and there will always be sadness in your heart for what you have lost. But believe me, when I tell you: your wounds will heal.”
When Aeryn returned to Moya after Dam-Ba-Da she had spurned John, even though, or perhaps because, a part of her wanted run to him and bury her face in his chest. Later, when she agreed to help go after Scorpius, she tried to convince herself that it was for HER John’s sake that she did it. And during the planning for the mission, never a casual word of greeting or welcome did she give him. Then Jena arrived. Jena, who wanted his help, and was warm where Aeryn was cold; Jena, who smiled where Aeryn was grim. Jena: who in the end had saved all of their lives.
When he first saw Aeryn after the escape, John had shouted her name, and run to embrace her. Aeryn had evaded him and gone past as if he were not there, leaving him bewildered and hurt.
That evening Jena had come to her quarters and said, “John loves you, Aeryn. He’s given all he can give, and deserves so much better than you have given in return. He needs you, and, whether you choose to admit it or not, you need him. Go to him. Go to him, tonight, or I will.”
Aeryn had gazed at her and said, simply, “I can’t.”
Jena had gone, and in the monens that followed she and John had gown ever closer. In time, Aeryn’s wounds had healed and she found herself able to see and talk with John without pain. Nor could she find it in herself to be jealous or bitter. For his part, John never ceased to be a loyal and constant friend, but his heart belonged to Jena.
Now it was John, who was in pain. Aeryn placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “You have friends who love you, John. They will help you if you let them.” She held him as his tears moistened her shoulder and said, half to her self, “I wish that I had done so sooner.”
