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sg1 poke

Chapter 6--Fractured Mirror

headachy with the coming snow--spoonishly had it right--2-4 inches seems little to our friends in the north and west, but to us it is an avalanche. To me personally it is disaster. I was supposed to pick up the films and pathology report at the radiologist and take them with us to the breast surgeon tomorrow at 12 noon. Our street is rarely plowed early so how are we going to get out of our culdesac? More worries. My eyelid is twitching. Sigh, we'll work something out.

Here's Chapter 6.

Though Our Time Slips Away, Chapter 6--Fractured Mirror

John sat in the twilight with his arm leaning on Moya's golden-copper table top in the Center Chamber, writing in his notebook by the orange filmy light of the nebula streaming through the front view screen. He periodically took a sip from the juice-like stuff he had found in the refrigeration unit. It was green, a putrid color, but it was cool and tart. The equations were flying into his notebook at an alarming rate. He could feel the wormholes curling around his brain as he mapped their formation and the beauty of their convolutions in time and space.

He paused and scratched the scar over his right eye with the tip of his pen. He still couldn't figure out how he had gotten it but figured it had happened while he was out for the count. D'Argo had told him about that newest emergency that almost fried Moya and how he had finally decoded his ship. He was sort of glad that he had missed the explosions, Moya's pain, and the race for recovery. Another frelled day on Moya. He smiled at the vision of the Princess purple up to her elbows in bat dren. Funny that it was the Qualta Blade that held the key.

He was glad that D'Argo had a new pet and hobby. He wished he could find his key--how to unlock Aeryn's heart. He had been having weird dreams, dreams of Aeryn and life on Talyn. Why did he see himself and Aeryn wrapped in each other? Why did he see red DRDs when he knew they were supposed to be yellow? Why could he still taste the salt of Aeryn's fingers as they gently stroked his lips? Why did he feel Aeryn's phantom lips on his and her fingers in his hair? He shook his head as phantom fingers ran their way across his chest and spine. Damn, the other had Aeryn and he had nothing. Stop dreaming, John. He returned to his notebook. Wormholes were more solid than his memories these days.


Aeryn sat ramrod straight on one of the smooth black benches in Talyn's mess hall. Her black leathers and vest blended in with the shiny surface of Talyn's table. The dim starlight streaming through the front view port reflected on her pale cheeks, illuminating their gauntness and the starkness of her tightly bound queue. She closed her eyes in pain, shutting out the beauty of the stars as well as the sympathetic glances of her crew-mates who had gathered there to share a meal. She barely ate these days since they had buried John Crichton's body on that speck of earth they had passed on their winding way back to Moya. Stark reached out to awkwardly pat Aeryn's hand where it rested on the table but she withdrew it sharply and glared at him. Her gaze said clearly that approaching her in her grief would be like approaching a female keedva protecting its young--all you'd get would be your head bitten off.

"We've found Moya. Talyn confirmed communication half and arn ago and we are expecting to rendezvous in approximately 20 arns," Crais announced quietly. "Aeryn, you don't have to go. Talyn and I would be honored if you continue on with us. You know you have a standing invitation."

Aeryn said nothing, just turned her head and gazed at the stars that held no light or wonder, just bitterness. Her thoughts were far away from that meal. They were still on Valdon where something strange happened. She could feel it on the edge of her memory. She could still feel his warm breath on her finger tips as they touched his lips and his whispered words of love. She could still see the ghost of her lover as he stood in that fekkik hotel room, limned by the light of glow bars. Were there one or two visitors to her those drunken days? Her memories were a haze of raslak and fellip nectar. All she remembers are the feelings of regret and anger at his heroism and her loss and that last glance of John as he turned away in his blue sweat jacket. Was it sadness and regret on his face at her decision to never love that way again? Aeryn shook the phantom memories of his final kiss to her ghostly palm out of her mind and cleared her throat.

"Thank you for your offer, Crais. Please tell Talyn that I am honored by his and your invitation, but I have to decline. I can't stay here. The memories are too difficult. I will go to Moya because I need to say goodbye. I am going to find a mercenary outfit where I can be of some help. I am finished with all this dren. I need to find a new start."

Rygel, Stark, and Crais looked at their friend, and there was sadness and understanding at difficult choices. They each were going their separate ways and closure was always difficult.



Can I cry now? This was so damn sad Rita. God, you've done great on this story.
I just went and got all caught up on your story. You've managed to take an untenable situation and make it even more interesting and angsty. I can hardly wait to find out what happens. I can really feel for each of the characters.

On another note, good luck and positive vibes for tomorrow.

And many hugs.