Rating: PG if that.

Archiving: please ask first, I’ll probably say yes.

The usual disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, yada, yada, yada, you know the drill...

“You just take it easy, let me do the driving this time.”

“Yes, perhaps you’d better.” Aeryn smiled at John and allowed herself to be eased into the copilot chair without a protest. John fought to keep his expression cheerful, or at least neutral, tried to keep his face from betraying the unease he felt. She wasn’t giving him a fight over this? Never once, in over a half century, had she turned the controls of a transport over to him without a long wrangle over who was more qualified. Sometimes he won, more often he lost, but he had come to enjoy the game. She never gave him an inch, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

But lately … lately it had been different. She was stubborn, would die rather than admit anything was wrong, but he knew better – she had been leaning on her walking stick a lot harder lately, got tired faster, slept more fitfully. Fifty-five years had given him a pretty good idea of her rhythms, and he knew her ‘clock’ had been slowing down for some time now. Please, God, just a little longer, he prayed silently, feeling his heart catch and skip for a moment. We’re goin’ home, please just a little longer.

“Strap in, baby, we’ll be home before you know it.” It took her two attempts to fasten the buckle, John noticed, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Back to Moya. Damn, but I never thought I’d see her again. Don’t mind tellin’ ya that now. Fifty years might be a drop in the bucket to a Sebacean or Delvian, but us poor Earth critters – it’s a long time, the machinery don’t usually last that long.”

“You’re stubborn, if there was a way for you to do it, I knew you would. You’re an old pip … “

“That’s ‘poop’,” John corrected her, grinning.

“All right, ‘poop’, just like that vid character you told me about. He was stubborn, and cranky, and … “

“Baby, if you think I’m stubborn and cranky, you shoulda met my granddaddy. Robert Crichton could make a rock look soft. My gramma, his sister, and my mom were the only ones who could get him to bend. The Crichton men have always had a weakness for the ladies. It’s in our blood.”

Aeryn laughed, and John smiled in response. Keep her going, old man, keep her with you. “Yep, it’s always been that way. Think Adam – ‘cording to the Bible, one of our holy books, he was the first man – I think he musta been a Crichton, his woman Eve just walked all over him. Mom could get Dad to do about anything for her, he thought she hung the moon. Same with my gramma and granddaddy. “

“Do I ‘walk all over’ you, Crichton?” Aeryn’s voice was soft, and sounded tired. John stole a glance at her, and she snapped, with a little of her old tenacity, “And pay attention to what you’re doing, old man.”

“Who’s callin’ who old, huh? And yeah, you walk all over me, have from day one. There I was, in that cell, just tryin’ to be friendly and polite, welcomin’ you to the neighborhood ‘n all, and what did you do? You went and knocked me on my ass! You punched my lights out with that pantak jab, and I don’t even want to think about all the other bruises over the years. Hell, even when you were … when you were dyin’, you had to take a swing at me. And I can’t even have the last word in a fight, forget about winning one. If I say white, you say black. You can be a real irritatin’ bitch sometimes.”

“So why do you put up with me?”

Because I love you, he almost blurted, but he bit the words back. Even after all this time, he didn’t think she’d accept them. So he framed a flip answer: “Told ya, the Crichton men have a weakness for the ladies. And it’s kept life interesting. God knows, I needed something on that damn planet to keep my mind sharp. Trust you to find the most boring place in the entire universe to get yourself stranded on.”

“You act like I chose it deliberately. And I didn’t ask you to follow me in, you know. You did that all by yourself.”

“See, that’s what I mean, never once lettin’ me have the last word.”

“Well, if you ever came up with a good argument, I might let you.” Aeryn’s voice slowed and faded on the last words, and John looked over at her, alarmed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady but shallow.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat that migrated to his chest. “Aeryn, baby, you still with me over there?”

Blue eyes opened with an annoyed spark in them. “I can’t even take a nap with you around!”

“This ain’t no time to be takin’ a nap, we’re almost home. Look!” It was still far enough away for the outline to be indistinct, but the golden shape hovering in the mist was definitely Moya. John boosted the engines as much as he dared – they were old and fragile, just like the occupants of the pod. “Just a few more microts, and we’re there. You can nap after we get you back aboard. Nobody’s gonna believe the difference in you, baby. From Peacekeeper to farmer – who’da thought it? Zhaan’s gonna be comin’ to you for gardening tips. So many changes … “ John smiled. “That’s what I always liked best about you, y’know. You always tried, even when you were scared, even when you didn’t really know what you were doing. You always gave it your best shot. You didn’t know what a pilgrim soul you could be.”

“A what?”

“Pilgrim soul. There’s a poem by a fella named Yeats, says something about loving the pilgrim soul. Always figured that meant liking the changes, watching someone be more. ‘Member when I told you that? That you could be more? And you said Velorek told you the same thing. You have been more, baby, so much more. And it’s been a wild ride – I’m glad I got to take part of it with you.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand, but she didn’t respond. He froze for an instant, part of him wanting to scream at her to wake up, talk to him. But he forced himself to keep looking straight ahead, keep his mind completely on docking with Moya, and not think of anything else. Not yet ....

The transport pod lighted with a soft thud in the landing bay, and John shut the engines down. “We’re home, baby,” he whispered, still not looking over at her. He couldn’t, he had to preserve the illusion for a little longer. “It’s good to be back. Hope Chiana’s got somethin’ good waiting for us in the messroom. Think I’d even settle for a plate of fresh food cubes .... “ His voice cracked and faded, and at last he turned to look at her.

Aeryn was leaned back in her seat, head tilted to one side, and John could have thought she was asleep and dreaming something happy – the lines on her face had softened, and there was a hint of a smile around her generous mouth. With a trembling hand he brushed a white hair back from her face, feather soft. “’When you are old and gray and full of sleep … ‘” he quoted in a whisper, as if in fear of waking her. “Do you know, baby? Do you know we’re here? I think you do. Let’s go on down, they’re waitin’ on us.”

Gently he scooped her into arms still strong despite his years and carried her down the gangway. She seemed to weigh nothing, her head nestled against his shoulder. He felt he could carry her forever ....

As his foot touched the floor of the landing bay, reality crashed in, and he sank to a sitting position on the gangway, the ache of loss growing in his chest. The doors whooshed open, and he saw his friends, the faces he never truly expected to see again. D’Argo, Zhaan, Chiana, even Rygel all wore the same expression of shock and sorrow. They already knew, but something made him put it into words:

“I ... I tried to get her back here, before … ” he said, fighting to keep control for a moment more, and losing more ground with each painful syllable, “… so we could … you could … but she ... she died on the way. She’s gone. Aeryn’s gone.” He pulled her to him and sobbed against her shoulder, rocking slowly back and forth ...

John woke with a start, heart pounding and tears standing in his eyes. Dream, reality, or an uneasy combination of the two? He didn’t know. All he knew for sure was that he had to see Aeryn, now, this minute. He waited for his breathing to settle to a normal rhythm, got his voice under some semblance of control, then picked up his comlink and asked softly, ”Pilot, you there?”

“Yes, Crichton.”

“Do you know where Aeryn is?”

“Asleep in her quarters, I should imagine. I have not been monitoring her. Would you like me to check for you?”

“No thanks, Pilot, I’ll do it myself.” He deactivated the comm, got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants. Padding barefoot down the corridor, he cursed himself for an idiot – it was a dream, nothing more. But his feet kept going until he stood outside the door of Aeryn’s quarters. Silent, he watched the steady rise and fall of the bed cover as she slept, drank in the lines of her face, fixing every detail in his mind. Then he said, so softly he could barely hear the words: “’How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true; but one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face .....’ Sleep sweet and dream happy, Sunshine.” He smiled in the dimness, and walked back to his own quarters with a lighter heart than he’d had in days.

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.