Author: Sarah Wait

 Feedback:  Comments are appreciated, constructive criticism is fine, but  flames will be used to make S'mores.

 Summary:  Scene filler for 'The Hidden Memory' - what happened when Gilina  left John and Aeryn to look for a way off the base?

 Rating:  Let's say PG, although that's probably harsh.

 Timeline/Spoilers:  The Hidden Memory, vague references to various Season 1  eps

 Archive:  If you want it, it's yours - just keep my name and e-mail with it.  And if you'd let me know where it's at, I'd love to come visit.  :)

 Disclaimer:  The characters and situations of the TV program "Farscape"  belong to the Jim Henson Company, Rockne S. O'Bannon, the Sci-Fi Channel,  Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia, and the actors who bring the  characters to life.  They have been borrowed with love, but not permission.  No copyright infringement is intended.

 Thanks to Adele for encouraging me to do this, then beta-ing when it was  'done'.

 Copyright Sarah Wait, February 2000
 

 The figure on top of the grate slowly moved away, her boots echoing through  the hall.  Only when the sound had completely faded did the three figures  crouching under the floor breathe sighs of relief.

 "That was close," Aeryn whispered, "too close."  Gilina, her eyes wide,  murmured in agreement.  In the distance, the alarms continued to sound.

 Aeryn's brow furrowed as John coughed violently, his words tumbling out  between chattering teeth.  "We gotta get out of here.  Find a way, an exit  somehow."

 Gilina took a deep breath.  "I'll go."  John started to argue, but she cut  him off instantly.  "No, they won't be looking for me."

 Aeryn regarded her solemnly for a moment, then nodded her assent.  The Tech  had already risked so much, but it would all be for naught if they were  caught now.  "She's right.  She knows the base better than either of us do,  John."  He relented, but Aeryn could tell he wasn't happy about it.  With one last concerned glance at John, Gilina handed her panel to Aeryn.  "I'll be right back," she promised as she scrambled up the ladder,  disappearing through the grate with a soft clang of metal on metal.

 Aeryn hefted the panel to her side and deposited it carefully on the floor  to her right.  As she brought her arm back, her left hand began to shake.  With a whispered curse, she balanced her pulse rifle against her hip and  reached out to steady her hand.  Before she could, it was captured in the  strong, gentle grasp of another.

 Crichton.

 She looked up, startled, but did not pull away.  He was staring at her,  concern warring with the pain etched on his features.  His eyes were red-  rimmed and exhausted, but there was something else in his gaze.  Something  she couldn't fully explain, but wanted desperately to understand.  "What are  you doing here?" he whispered softly, lowering their linked hands to rest on  her knee.

 "Saving you," she answered matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural  thing in the world.  It wasn't, of course, and she knew it.  Peacekeepers  were not in the habit of mounting rescue missions for a single soldier.  But  then, she mused, humans probably weren't, either.  And yet that hadn't  stopped John any more than it had stopped her.

 "You shouldn't have come."

 Aeryn shook her head slightly.  Foolish human.  "I wasn't going to let you  die, Crichton."  That had never been an option.

 John smiled weakly as he recognized her words as his own.  She had hoped he  would.  D'Argo's explanation of the Aurora Chair had been brief, and while  she didn't fully understand the process, the physical and emotional toll it  had taken on John was obvious.  Yet according to Chiana he had voluntarily  stayed, willingly subjecting himself to the Chair - and refusing his only  realistic chance for a rescue.  And why?  To protect Gilina.  So Gilina  could help Chiana.  So Chiana could get back to Moya with the tissue sample  in time to save her life.  In the end, it all came back to her.  And him.

 She had given up her way of life because of him.  He had been willing to  give up his *life* for her.  Suddenly the impact of what he had done hit  her.  But *why* had he done it?

 She could name dozens of soldiers who would have sacrificed their lives for  hers, as well as more than a few who had.  She would have done the same for  them.  It was her duty as a Peacekeeper.  Or at least, it had been.

 But she knew without a doubt that none of her former comrades would have  risked their lives recklessly, against insurmountable odds and without a  realistic chance of succeeding - as John had.  This was not a battle; he was  not a soldier.  He had not been motivated by duty, or an oath, or even  orders.  But still, he had done it.  He had been willing to sacrifice his  life for hers.  And for him, the decision had been an easy one.

 She waited for the expected rush of guilt.  It never came.

 He had risked everything for her, and what had she done in return?  Essentially the same thing.  She had not hesitated once D'Argo revealed that  John had been captured.  Immediately after arriving at the base she had run  off on her own, at less than full strength, embarking on her own foolhardy  rescue mission.

 So now she asked the same question of herself - why?  She couldn't think of  a single person she would take such a risk for... except for John.  This  wasn't about duty.  This was about caring for someone.

 With a start, she realized just how much this human had come to mean to her.  No, that wasn't true, she acknowledged.  She knew exactly how much he meant  to her.  But perhaps, for the first time, she allowed herself to accept the  strength of her emotions.  The admission was unfamiliar and frightening, but  at the same time, oddly comforting.

 John suddenly shuddered, his body wracked with phantom pain.  The violent  convulsion snapped Aeryn out of her reverie, and she realized she had been  staring intently into his eyes.  'Eyes are the window to the soul', he had  told her once.  She briefly wondered just how much of her soul she had shown  him in the last few microts.  Unfortunately, this was not the time to  explore these unfamiliar feelings.  Later, she promised herself.  Once they  were out of this damn grate and off this frelling base.  But right now, she  needed to focus on John.  She studied him silently, fervently hoping that  the Chair had not caused irreparable damage - physically or emotionally.

 "So, do Peacekeepers have some sort of ritual for occasions like these?"  John drawled slowly, his hoarse voice rasping over the words.

 He was recreating their earlier conversation.  Aeryn breathed a sigh of  relief.  Whatever the Chair had done to him, the Crichton she knew was still  in there, hanging on.  He had beaten it - and them.

 Determined not to dwell on the emotions stirring within her, she  deliberately kept her tone light.  "What, you mean occasions such as  brazenly infiltrating an enemy base with only a Nebari thief as backup?"

 John smiled, his weary eyes twinkling with amusement, but did not respond.  He simply waited, watching her.

 She felt a twinge of regret as she contemplated his question.  Peacekeepers  had few rituals, and those were reserved for battle-related victories.  Everything was bound by duty; nothing was supposed to be personal.  Of  course there were exceptions, the slight bending of the rules now and then,  but never something of this magnitude.  Never.  "Actually, no.  Other than  shooting our pulse rifles in the air after a successful mission, that is."

 John's answering laugh held a twinge of desperation.  "Well, under the  circumstances, I think we'd better pass on that, don'tcha think?"

 She couldn't help but smile.

 "So," he continued, "maybe we'll have to try it the human way."  He was  still holding her hand, rubbing it slowly with his thumb as he had before.  Before he had left to risk his life in order to save hers...

 Once more pushing those thoughts firmly into the back of her mind, she  tilted her head curiously.  "And what do humans do?"

 "If it's a successful mission, there's the 'congratulations', or 'good job'.  But for something like this... something personal..."  He paused, continuing  to caress her hand.  "There's the handshake.  Again."  She nodded,  remembering.  "Followed by 'thank you'."

 Aeryn glanced at their hands as they rested on her knee.  The shaking had  long since stopped, but she didn't let go.

 She didn't want him to let go, either.

 "Thank you."  She squeezed his hand gently.  "How was that?"

 The corner of his mouth lifted in a familiar quirky grin.  She couldn't  believe how relieved she was to see it.  "Perfect," he murmured.  "But  sometimes - like, when a person sacrifices everything she believes in to  save your life time and time again, then runs off to rescue you when she's  not even fully healed - well, then, 'thank you' just isn't enough to cover  it."  Aeryn's breath caught as she realized how smoothly he had turned the  tables.  Now it was his turn.  Lifting their clasped hands to his mouth, he  gently kissed the back of her hand.  She could feel his lips burning through  her gloves, warmth spreading through her.

 Their gazes met and held, and as was so often the case, their eyes expressed  infinitely more than their words possibly could.  They always seemed to  communicate best that way, she realized.

 Moments later, on some instinctual level that had been honed by a lifetime  of training, Aeryn heard the soft footfalls ascending the stairs.  She  instantly snapped to full alert, but she was not worried.  The footsteps  were too quiet and hurried to belong to a commando.  Still, she slid her  free hand back to her pulse rifle.

 With one last squeeze, John released her hand.  "Later," she whispered,  extending her promise to him.  He smiled softly as she reached back to  balance herself on the wall, shifting slightly as Gilina opened the grate  and dropped inside.