To Keep
Author
Notes: I posted this a
couple days ago without a beta, and writing it half-asleep. Thankfully, Sarahjane was
brave enough to trudge through it and make it more presentable, and I've very
thankful for it. This was written for CatherineBruce,
and one of my rare shippy fics,
and from Aeryn's POV, so uh...enter at your own risk.
Spoilers: None, but it does take place in the not so distant future.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, we’d have a
Farscape channel.
The sky is
alight with the glow of fire from buildings that once stood proudly reaching
for the bonosphere. She doesn't need to look through
the crumbled roof above her to know.
She sees it in his silhouette, the outline of muscle tensed, fingers
occasionally tracing the curve of the pulse pistol at his side.
He doesn't sleep. He's afraid to. Afraid of a lot of things
that are beyond his control once more.
But he doesn't speak of his fear. It’s laying in wait, coiled tight. Dangerous.
It should be her standing watch. Her training would guarantee that no one
breaks the parameter they kept lined with makeshift shrapnel filled grenades.
His idea.
He adapted so well, and a part of her still mourns the loss of the man he used
to be.
Soft words and heart, gone.
He’d told her once that she could be more. It had been beyond him then
that he could be the same. She doesn’t revel in that metamorphosis. Something
deep inside, hidden amongst lost opportunities, cries for what he's become.
She should tell him. Now. Before it’s
too late.
But she won't. She doesn’t have to. She sees it in his eyes every time they
fall on her.
He knows.
Without a sound, he turns away from the fires and patrols searching for
survivors. His face is dark, made more so by the dim lighting of the room.
Reaching out, she waits for him to take her hand. Fingers intertwine and
tighten, as if in loosening his grip she would be gone in the blink of an
eye.
Too much loss has already happened in their short time together. She will fight
wherever, whenever, whoever to keep him beside her, to keep her heart beating
deep within her chest.
To keep from drowning in more ways than one.
He sinks to his knees, pushing away disheveled dark hair, two fingers trailing
their way through the dust and blood along the jaw line. His thumb touches her
lip, traces the outline. She closes her eyes as his lips replace fingers, opens
her mouth, grants him entry.
He's paying homage to her in the only way he knows. Through tenderness and
touch, things he will ever reveal only, ever to her.
She welcomes him; hands sliding down along the curve of his spine, the narrow
flare of his hips. Waits to see if he wants, needs
more. If he does, then maybe all is lost, and they will be dead by morning
light.
His eyes take in every facet of body, kneeling in filth and ignoring the smell
of death all around them.
Lips press against her roughly; tongues intertwine as he whispers his love for
her. She swallows the words whole. Takes them inside where no one will ever
reach them.
They are hers alone, as is he.
She pulls him down onto the bedding made of dead men's clothing, presses
against him, their bodies intertwining as one. That is
all she needs at this moment.
The rest of the world can wait.
Originally
posted on October 8, 2005