For Kat - who asked me to put my thoughts into words.

The Eye Of The Storm

By S. Nankervis Trimmer

The city spread out before John. Wind and thunder. Mist and cloud. The storm covering with rain all the wonders man could construct. Weather, one thing still untamed by man who attempted to control everything on this blue planet. His beautiful planet. His Earth. His home. The reality was he would trade it all for the chance to have these last days back to live over again.

"So what's this?"Aeryn said from behind him.

John didn't turn from the window to answer her. "It's beer. Alcohol. Trust me, its just what we need right now. Down the hatch." He tipped the bottle back and drank.

Trust me. How many times had he said that? How could she trust him after all she had been through? He pulled the bottle from his lips. The cold liquid felt good on his raw throat.

"Down the hatch," she repeated.

"You like it?" he asked. He tipped the bottle back again.

"Yes. It's like Phellip nectar. Phellip's a creature on Tarsus. And they get the nectar from...."

"Aeryn. Please. Don't tell me where it comes from, just drink the beer."

Silence.

God, why did I say that? What's wrong with me? Why am I taking it out on her? She's just trapped here. Searching for something from her past to relate to. I'm to blame for this mess. She must blame me. How could she not? Well, she can't blame me any more than I blame myself.

"Sorry," he said.

"What for?" came the question from behind him.

He couldn't think of every wrong thing he'd done to her at this moment, but she deserved an answer. "Everything," he said. Then added, "What's happened here. Getting you stuck on Moya. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be the happy little peacekeeper dominating the lessor races." She would understand that.

"Hmmm. I've gotta a lot to blame you for, Crichton."

She does blame me.

Thunder boomed outside the small room. This tiny haven on a world which was suppose to be his sanctuary. His salvation. His dream come true. Now his living nightmare.

"Look at that." The words slipped out of him as if on their own.

"What?" came another question from behind him. Aeryn's tone was tired and no more than conversational. As if she was weary. As if she spoke because she felt she must.

"That's it. Earth. Minus the sunshine." How he loved this place. How he'd missed it.

"You know, you were right. It's actually very beautiful."

A small hope bloomed in him. This last comment was an affirmation that at least once he'd been right. But how did he begin mending this gulf he felt between them? He sat down beside her. Not looking at her. He couldn't look into her eyes. He was afraid of what he would see. Their arms touched. She did not look at him either, but she didn't move away. A small start.

"Were you scared to join me when I left Moya?" he asked, casting a furtive glance in her direction. He had to know if what he'd guessed was right.

She nodded. "Yes." she answered, staring straight ahead.

He shut his eyes. It was true. His own fears confirmed. She'd found the courage to trust his last words. To believe she had nothing to fear. She'd been worried about him. She was in this mess because of him. Because she'd put aside her fears and come to see if he was okay. Now all her fears were come true. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"I won't be recaptured, Crichton," she said calmly. "They will have to kill me if they come to take me tomorrow."

There was a certainty in her voice which he knew all too well. "I know," he replied, still unable to look at her.

He couldn't met her eyes. He couldn't see the blame there. The silent recriminations. The distrust. The looks he deserved.

They were alone with only one weapon. Trapped on an island with no friends, little money and no way to get off this planet. It was only a matter of time until they were hunted down.

All of it was his fault.

I stand with you and I will die beside you, he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words. The blame is mine. I'll take it. I'll take it all just.... He placed his forehead on her shoulder.

Don't hate me.

He was more sorry for all that had happened than words could tell. How could he say this and make her believe it? Would she ever believe him again?

He moved his head upward, trying to see her expression, trying to avoid looking into her eyes at the same time. His forehead touched her cheek. Still she didn't pull away.

Hope made him braver. He moved his head higher. Aeryn's head bent down to his. He felt her lips near his. Still he couldn't meet her eyes. He didn't want to lose this chance of telling her all he felt by showing her. Tentatively he pressed his lips to hers. She did not pull away. His heart slammed against his ribs as she kissed him back. Once and then again and again.

He was the first to pull away. He needed to look into her eyes now. The uncertainty he felt he saw mirrored in her eyes. Eyes which held no hate. Eyes which searched his face for answers as urgently as his searched hers. He had none. An overwhelming sense of guilt descended on him. Guilt for all that had befallen his friends because of him. It was almost more than he could bear.

"Forgive me, Aeryn."

She sat straighter, moving farther away. His heart dropped to the floor. Don't go. I can't lose you too. It was all he could do not to scream this. Not to take her into his arms.

"Forgive you? What for?" she asked.

"Everything." It was as lame a response the second time as it had been the first. "For ruining your life," he blurted out, without thinking about the words before he said them.

For a moment she did not answer. She said nothing. Only stared into his eyes with that puzzled, thoughtful look he found at once frustrating and endearing.

"I don't consider my life ruined," she said. "I've always expected to die at the hands of my enemies. The only question has been where and when."

Her words were like a knife in his soul. She expected to die. She always had. And now she probably would. Because of him. As always, she was braver than he. He couldn't speak aloud what he dreaded, for fear saying it would make it come true. Though he wasn't sure he could find a way to give her hope or comfort, he knew that he must try. For both their sakes.

"Let's not talk about dying anymore," he said. "Let's talk about living. We're going to be alive tomorrow, Aeryn. I know that."

"And after tomorrow?"

She could be so focused. Hope was to live in this moment. Here, where they were both safe. Now, while they were both alive. Aeryn was throwing hope away with both hands. Only thinking about tomorrow and their next move. And changing the subject he suddenly realized.

"You haven't said if you forgive me," he answered.

"There is nothing to forgive," she said. To his surprise she cupped her hand against his cheek. "I made a choice. If I had it to make again, I would make the same one."

He pulled her to him and kissed her again. As tenderly as his racing heart would let him. She relaxed into his arms and let him be the strong one. Let him hold her and rock her. He found comfort in that. He hoped she did too. He held her so tight he thought he might suffocate her.

Aeryn slowly pushed herself away from his embrace. Reluctantly, he let her go. She leaned forward and placed her forehead against his lips. He kissed it once before she sat back.

"We have to think about tomorrow, Crichton."

He sighed. "Please, Aeryn, don't call me Crichton. Not now. Call me John."

"Why, Cri... John?"

"Because I asked you to," he answered, trying not to sound exasperated because she didn't understand. Trying not to plead, because it was so important to him to hear her use his name. "Because I like it when you call me John. It makes me feel..." He paused, then forged on. "It makes me feel as if you care for me as much as I care for you."

Did Aeryn understand this?

She gave him a slow thoughtful nod. "I shall call you John, if that is what you wish."

"Yes, Aeryn, it is." He took hold of her hand and kissed it. "Thank you."

For a moment he thought she would snatch her hand back the way she stared at it. She didn't. In fact, she took firm hold of his hand in return. They sat that way in silence a long time.

"I have been thinking about tomorrow," he said, bringing reality into this dream. "I need to go get you something to wear so you fit in here. That peacekeeper outfit screams alien."

The puzzled look passed over Aeryn's face again, but she nodded her agreement. He tried to stand up. Aeryn's grip on his hand tightened. She held him where he was.

"Now?" she asked.

"Now. The stores will close soon and I want to be out of here first thing in the morning."

She released his hand. He rose and put his shirt back on. It was still damp, but there was nothing to be done. The thunder sounded again. It was still raining as well. He hoped he had enough money to get something nice. Aeryn deserved something nice. He moved to the door.

"Get some rest. Lock the door behind me." He demonstrated how. "I'll be back as quick as I can."

She nodded once. His stomach knotted tight. She looked so small and alone sitting on the bed. Lost in this place so alien to her. Trying to be brave in the face of all this strangeness. He knew the feeling.

"I stand with you, Aeryn. I'll do my best for you. I promise. I'll..." The words caught in his throat. Say it! He urged himself. Tell her! "I'll die before I let them take you from me."

And he would. The truth of his words and the utter hopelessness of their situation terrified him. He bolted out the door into the storm before she had a chance to react.

Aeryn sat in the chair she had placed before the window. She had positioned it such that she could see the room's entrance, the small room John called the bathroom, as well as out the big window. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms about her legs. The gun sat perched on the arm of the chair, in easy reach.

The wind blew a fine mist of rain through the open window from time to time. Aeryn liked the coolness on her face. She did like rain. She did think this place was beautiful. What little she had seen of it. A blue planet with a blue sky. Another ominous rumbling came down from above. Thunder John had called it. She liked thunder too. If things had been different... She let the thought go, for they were not.

"Are you with me or them?" she had asked.

"I'm with you, Aeryn. Trust me. Put down the gun," he had said.

And she'd put the gun down because, despite everything, she did trust him. When he put his hand on her knee, the touch brought her comfort far greater than his words. He was the only familiar thing in this crazy place. She needed a link to what she knew. What she could rely on.

And at that moment, with those words, John became what she was. Traitor to his people. She knew the cost of that decision. She'd made the same one. He did it for her. For that she would trust him.

Then, as he left, he'd said something totally unexpected.

"I'll die before I let them take you from me."

Since John had left she had been trying to figure out what had gone on in this room. She was not sure she could figure it out. It was too confusing.

A smile spread across her face. She was beginning to think of him as John, not Crichton. He so urgently wanted her to call him John, instead of Crichton. As if this small thing was more important than anything else she had ever done.

She would never understand him. She couldn't help believing him. He would die for her. She knew that without question. He was her friend. Her first true friend. Her most trusted friend.

That realization troubled her. She had grown too fond of this human for her own good. This fondness clouded her judgement. When he had fallen through the wormhole, she should have let him go. It was what he wanted. To her dismay, she found she could not let him go that easily. Her current predicament was a result of that foolish behavior.

Yet she did not regret coming here, though she wished she'd come alone. She had spoken truly. She would do it again. Without pause. Even knowing she would be held prisoner and most likely be dead in a few short arns. She would do it all over again to know his fate.

Where had the peacekeeper gone that she once was? Where was the strong soldier she had once been? The one who could make the tough decisions without question or pause? She searched her heart. That soldier was gone. Never to return. Gone when she needed her most.

She'd said she would die before she was captured and she'd meant it. But could she let John die too? Once, to die in battle beside her comrades would have been the greatest of honors to her. Yet somehow John's life meant more than honor or freedom. More than her own life. Could she sacrifice herself to the same fate as Rygel if it meant John lived? She would never have asked herself such a question before she met John. Now this question boiled in her as violently as the storm raged outside. A tentative knock sounded at the door before she'd resolved it.

She picked up the gun and moved slowly toward the door. Soldiers didn't usually knock.

"Aeryn, it's me. Open up, I'm drowning out here."

John. Relief flooded through her. She'd been so afraid he would be caught. That he wouldn't come back. Not because he didn't want to. Never that. But because he couldn't.

She unlocked the door and pulled it quickly open.

John dashed into the room, packages tucked under his arms. She shut the door and locked it. He tossed his packages on the bed, pulled his soaked shirt off over his head and ducked into the bathroom. Aeryn moved to the bed and sat down. He emerged shortly, drying his head with a towel.

"You're gonna love what I got," John said, hitting a button on the wall causing the lights in the room to go on.

Aeryn looked quickly at the window. John caught her meaning and moved to the window, drawing across it thick folded material which hid them from view.

"Sorry about that," he said.

He pulled clothes out of the packages, waving them in the air. They were brightly colored. To her they screamed as loudly as John had said her clothes did.

"Do you like them?" he asked.

"I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I got you some chocolate too." He eagerly unwrapped a brown square which looked like a food cube, put half in his mouth and thrust the rest toward her. "Here, try it. You'll love it."

She shook her head. No food. "Perhaps later. You were gone a long time. We should be getting some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow, beginning with finding out where D'Argo is."

John looked disappointed and upset. Rightly so. After having heard them said aloud, he must have realized, as she did, how daunting their tasks were. How small their chances.

Laying down on the bed, she tried to get comfortable. She should have taken her boots off, but she might have to move fast with little notice. She kept them on.

John put the chocolate food cube back in it's package. He wandered around the room. Putting the clothes back in packages. Looking out the window. Unlocking and relocking the door.

"Turn out the lights, John," she said.

He complied, then disappeared into the bathroom. She heard him moving around, running water, making loud coughing noises, causing the waste receptacle to sound over and over again. She thought to go check on him but the noises stopped. Just as she was falling asleep, he opened the door and moved into the room. She watched him pace around in the dim light, rubbing his face with his hands. He began moving the chair toward the door.

"John, what are you doing? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "I'll just sleep here in the chair. Keep watch by the door."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, then instantly regretted it. "I mean, you don't have to sleep in the chair. There is no reason to keep watch. The door is locked. If they find us, there is no escape route from this room. We must just hope they don't find us before we leave here."

She moved to the other side of the bed, sliding the gun across ahead of her. Shifting for a comfortable spot, she indicated the bed next to her.

"Sleep here," she said. "I need you rested tomorrow. Mind and body."

John lay down on the bed beside her. He seemed tense. He lay staring at the ceiling. She lay staring at it as well. Wondering what tomorrow would bring.

"I meant what I said, Aeryn," he said softly.

"What?" she asked. He had said so many things.

Softer still, "I am with you. I would die to keep them from taking you from me."

She closed her eyes. Sick through and reassured and frightened all at the same time.

"I know," she answered.

"Good night, Aeryn," he said as softly as he had said the last.

She looked at him. He still lay staring at the ceiling. A sigh escaped him. There must have been a proper response to this last thing he'd said, but she didn't know what it was. So she said nothing. He gave a small laugh and rolled toward her, pressing his lips against her shoulder.

"Say, sleep tight, John," he said, a look of mischief on his face. Of desperate need in his eyes.

She was beginning to recognize the multitude of expressions which played across his face and what they meant. Everything he thought was written on that face. He rarely kept it as guarded as she did her own. It was a little thing he asked.

"Sleep tight, John."

His face lit up. He grinned broadly. His tender eyes crinkling at their corners. Her words pleased him. She saw that. The knowledge pleased her as well.

Suddenly, John's face grew serious. "One day, Aeryn, I hope you will tell me what I can say to make you happy."

This too seemed to require an answer. She had none. She never thought about happiness or what would make her happy. It didn't seem important. Except when she was with him.

John deserved some happiness. He had never been as unhappy as she had seen him these last days. His world was not the kind of place he'd believed it to be. He had lost his home again. She knew that disappointment. She wished she knew the right words to say to make him happy.

"Say sleep tight, Aeryn," she ventured.

"Sleep tight, Aeryn," John repeated.

The smile returned to his face. It warmed her through. It gave her hope when she knew there was none. It made her....happy. She smiled.

John lay on his side, his arm against her's, his cheek on her shoulder. His other arm slipped around her waist and he snugged himself up against her. She didn't resist. He was warm. And though she had once found it distasteful, she was becoming accustomed to his smell. In fact, she was beginning to like it. Still smiling, he closed his eyes. The tension went out of his body. A few moments later his breathing became slow and even. She knew he had fallen asleep.

She picked up the gun which lay at her side opposite John. The grip fit her hand well. The balance of the weapon was good. The cool hardness of it comforting. John's hand lay next to her's on her other side. She took hold of it and held it tight. John roused slightly. He gripped her hand firmly in return before sagging in exhausted sleep against her once more.

In her hands she had the two things in her life she knew she could count on.

Thunder broke the silence of the room. John did not stir. Tonight they were safe. Tomorrow they would step out into the storm again. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring. With John beside her, she would face it bravely. No one could take from her this night, this room or what she'd found here.

Closing her eyes, she lay her face against John's hair, breathed deeply and fell asleep.

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