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Epilogue for Twofold

<<Continued from Twofold, page 1

By: Can

Rating: G

Summary: After DWTB

Disclaimer: I don't own them

Thanks to Neuroscpr for reading, and Alison M. Dobell for encouraging me to continue this.

She kept her eyes on the scanners, only occasionally glancing at the sleeping figure. Her concentration was directed on finding Moya. All the other thoughts that threatened to intrude were pushed away. 'Too much right now,' as a single hand wiped away the dam that threatened again.

Aeryn had been sitting for an arn in the same position. She knew it was time to move about, as she felt her muscles stiffen.

Rising to her feet she went to check on John. She studied the peaceful look on his face, wishing he could always look so. His life since coming here had been more than any human was prepared for. Still he had handled it well after all was said and done.

Aeryn eased herself down by his side. She lightly traced her fingers over the contours of his innocent face, longing to wake him. There was so much that had to be said. So much hurt that needed to be healed. The sigh from her lips was filled with pain, pain for the fragile human and herself.

She didn't feel him stir beneath her, as she was so deeply lost in her own thoughts.


John felt himself drifting. He could feel the light caress of a hand stroking his face, but it just propelled him deeper into his memories, the memories of her and the sins that marked his life even in death.

The scenes flashed before his eyes, Zhaan, the nurses, the Gammak Base, Gilina and the latest, the command carrier. The remorse he felt was overwhelming as he groaned in his own tormented world.

The dark turned to light as he thought of his constant, Aeryn. He saw her smile, remembered her touch. The happiness he felt quickly turned to sadness as the other appeared in his memories and the loneliness encompassed him.

All he could remember now was all the arns he had been without her. Aeryn in someone else's arms, the yearning that had almost been his demise. The final kiss, 'What does that remind you of?' Her answer 'yesterday.' A knife plunging his heart, the pain so intense he wanted to cry. 'No please no! I can't do this again!'

John started crying, feeling intense pain in his ribs, the throbbing in his head getting worse.

'Pain?' The thought suddenly penetrated his groggy mind. 'If I can feel pain I can't be dead.'

He felt the hand that caressed his face, afraid to move. Well if this was heaven, he didn't want it to stop. John didn't want to open his eyes, fearing the soft hand would leave. The ache in him was intense as his longing increased.

' Oh God please don't let this be a dream!' He screamed in his mind.

He dared to open his eyes, afraid of what he would find. The light was intrusive as his lids fluttered, trying to adjust. Slowly he focused, holding his breath, for fear of losing the incredible warmth his soul was feeling. He wanted to hold onto it as long as he could. For once he felt safe and secure.


Aeryn was startled out of her thoughts by the immense emotion John displayed. He was crying in his sleep. Her heart stirred for him, knowing he must be facing some inner turmoil. She feared she was the cause of it.

Stroking his forehead, she knew she had to bring him out of it.

Quietly she called his name. "John...John." All the while running her fingers across his face. "You're safe, but I need you to wake up now. You need to tell me what happened to Moya."

He heard the voice and his breath caught in his throat, afraid he was hallucinating. He could still feel the hand stroking his face and savored it.

"John! You need to talk to me," Aeryn said soothingly.

Still feeling he might be in the surreal; he ventured forth and raised his hand to feel hers. Meeting it, he felt her flesh, solid. This was not a dream. He was sure of it now.

Slowly he turned his head to meet her face above him. All he could do was stare, taking in every feature. He had no words for the moment.

Aeryn reciprocated, just stoking his face. There was nothing that could be said that made any difference. She took all of him in, seeing the reddened eyes, finding herself being drawn into them totally without regret.

She knew this was where she belonged. The other one still was with her, but time would take care of that. This man lying before her was alive. He was the one who needed her now.

"Aeryn," John said in a cracked voice, holding onto her hand tightly, "please don't leave me again. I..."

" Shh, I'm not going anywhere," she replied as she glided her hand over his parched lips. Reaching for her water and bringing it to his lips, she asked about Moya.

John was having difficulty concentrating, his mind still fuzzy from lack of oxygen. He took a deep labored breath before telling her the story of the wormhole.

When he finished, she simply nodded in thought for a few microts. She felt his body shiver slightly and reached for a blanket. Covering him with it she spoke, "It's not your fault, so get that out of your head now. We'll find Moya together."

John smiled slightly before closing his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired. "Aeryn?"

She looked down at him. "What John?"

"Why'd you come back?" He asked, reaching for her face and gliding his hand over her smooth skin. "I thought you were so sure about what you wanted."

Aeryn struggled with his question, not really sure how to answer him. After several microts she answered him from her heart. "You asked me a question. 'Do you love John Crichton?'. My answer to you was yes. At that time I was wrought with emotion. After I left Moya and was flying free, I realized there was only one, and that one was here."

John struggled against the fuzziness in his mind. "Aeryn...I'm me."

She looked upon him smiling. "I know John. Now sleep. I need you completely recovered so we can find Moya."

Peacefulness encompassed him as he heard her words, allowing him to settle into a deep sleep, free from any dreams or nightmares.

She slowly rose to her feet as he slept and picked up the recorder. Opening it she carefully took out the tape, clutching it closely to her chest. She slid it into her vest, with no plans of ever speaking of it. These were the words of a dying man, words that deserved to remain in the heart, but ones she would never forget.

The end

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