This is set after Fractures, and is just one scene, so imagine it as being after they’ve destroyed Scorpius’s wormhole research and are fleeing the Peacekeepers, or some such scenario.

“This is a bad plan, Crichton,” Aeryn said grimly, taking another look at the navigational controls. “A very bad plan.”

“It’s going to work,” he said softly, looking at the console as well and avoiding her eyes. She turned away from him and paced across the floor of the stolen marauder.

“They won’t follow us, Aeryn.”

“Of course, they won’t follow us, Crichton, you’re flying us into the frelling sun! They won’t follow us because *they* aren’t crazy!”

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of playing chicken,” he said lightly, trying to disguise the fear in his voice. “We aren’t flying into the sun, we’re just going to get very close. When we slingshot around it, we’ll be going far too fast for them to catch up. It’s the only chance we have.”

She stalked back. “It isn’t going to work,” she said intensely, gesturing at the environmental readouts, “because you have forgotten something. Even if the ship holds, radiation is going to leak in here and KILL you.”

John stared at her dumbly for a moment. What, did she think she was immune to radiation? “Actually, Aeryn, I was more worried about the heat- but I think the shielding will hold.”

She glared at him. “What makes you think that?” She reached a hand out to the controls, and then drew back, obviously conflicted.

“Because I know the science better than you do,” he said even more gently. “Aeryn, you touch those controls, we die.”

She gave him one last beseeching glance, searching his eyes for any indication that they did not have to do this, and then acceded, placing her fingertips on the edge of the console and away from the controls. It didn’t take long for John to realize she was shaking, and he gingerly put an arm around her, unsure if how it would be received. For a long moment they stood that way, staring at the controls that were set to take them to what was very probably their deaths.

Aeryn continued shaking and John thought that she might be crying, but quickly realized that she was having trouble catching her breath. She turned away slightly, bending over, and John slid his arm from around her shoulders to her waist, and put his other arm around her, pulling her close. She leaned back into him, and he murmured comfortingly into her ear until she stopped trembling. He wasn’t sure when it turned into something else, but he realized that she was leaning into him, her arms over the arms encircling hers, their breathing synchronized. She arched her head back, bringing her lips tantalizingly close. He hesitated, not knowing if she was sure of what she wanted or even at all aware of what she was doing.

She broke away from him with a short, barking laugh. “Look at me!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide. “When have you ever seen me...panic, like this?”

“Never,” he said, watching as she checked the environmentals again. “It’s only going to be a few hundred microts, Aeryn. Maybe we should get-comfortable,” he added, resisting the urge to phrase it as kissing their asses goodbye.

She gave him a sharp look, which he ignored as he walked over to a bench that had spacesuits hanging over it. He sat down, lounging comfortably, while Aeryn sat opposite him, her hands balled up in fists on her knees and her carriage erect. John picked up a helmet that had been lying on the bench and looked at it speculatively, offering it to Aeryn.

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t help.”

He discarded the helmet and the idea and leaned back, hands behind his head, with a sigh. “Everyone please return your trays to an upright position. We anticipate turbulence. It’s going to be a rough ride, ladies and–“ he stopped when he glanced at Aeryn, who was looking at him from under her eyelashes, a smoldering glance that took his breath away.

She stood up and walked the few steps towards him.

“Aeryn?” he asked, rising up to greet her, but she pushed him back down with a small shove to the middle of his chest and straddled him. She brushed his hair back and continued on down his cheek, stroking and caressing his face, a sad look in her eyes.

“I don’t know that this is the best time to talk about our relationship,” or lack there of, he thought.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said, and kissed him. His lips parted under hers and she kissed him thoroughly, leisurely, sure of herself and sure of him. As well she should be, he thought, as he put his arms around her and returned the kiss. When she broke away and continued on down his neck, nuzzling tenderly, he tried again. “Maybe we should discuss this.”

“We’re running out of time,” she said ferociously, attacking the buckles of the Peacekeeper jacket he was wearing. He got a good luck at her eyes and realized the crazed look was still there, mixed with sadness and longing.

“No,” he gasped, damning himself for saying it, and grabbed her wrists.

“Why not?” she asked challengingly.

“Because I’m bucking for sainthood. I figure I’m going to get there before Mother Theresa at this rate. Because…I’m not sure this is what you want...”

“Do you think I haven’t wanted to be with you ? The way we-he and I were-on Talyn? That I don’t know that you are the same person, and it would be the same?”

“That’s what I want too, Aeryn. So, why haven’t we? Why-now?” he asked, letting go of her wrist, and reaching forward to cup her face with his hands.

“Because there’s nothing left to lose,” she said, tears coming to her eyes.

“Because you don’t want to die alone?” he asked, his voice thickening.

“Because I want to die in your arms.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, pulling her head to his shoulder. “We aren't going to die, Not this time.”

“You don’t know that.” she argued. “No one ever thinks they’re going to die.”

“No, I don’t,” he said into her hair, “But I believe that we aren't. I have faith that we are going to survive this.”

“I can’t watch you die again. It killed me when you died last time,” she said, clinging to him.

“I know, I felt the same way about you. But Aeryn, it only made me want to be with you more while we still could.” John could feel the strain on the small spaceship by now...he could feel metal rattling and shrieking sounds coming from somewhere.

“I can’t watch you die,” Aeryn repeated with a sob, her voice muffled.

He held onto her more tightly, in an attempt to make them one person, with one body and one fate. “Then don’t watch- just hang on.”

In just a few of the longest microts of John Crichton’s life it was all over. The shaking and the strain on the engines had stopped, and he and Aeryn had landed on the floor of the marauder, still entwined. He looked past her head to the viewscreen, which showed black space and stars. He had no idea where they were.

Aeryn, while still wrapped around, him, was relaxed in his arms. She lifted her head and looked at him wonderingly. ”Are we still alive?” she asked in disbelief.

John looked into her eyes and smoothed a disheveled lock of hair into place, brushing her nose lightly with his. “I’m not sure,” he said, smiling. “Maybe this is heaven.”

He kissed her gently, and she smiled back at him.