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Slash and Yaoi Fiction
Title: Mother of the Hero
Author: Juxian Tang
Fandom: Farscape
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Crais/Aeryn
Status: complete
Archive: yes
Feedback: juxiantang@hotmail.com
URL: http://juxian.slashcity.net
Disclaimer: Farscape belongs to Jim Henson Company, Hallmark and SciFi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended.
Spoilers: Mind the Baby
Summary: Aeryn stays on Talyn in the end of Mind the Baby episode.


I have never seen John Crichton again.

I thought I would. Then, leaving Moya for Talyn, I thought it'd be solar days, maybe, weekens - before I'd return. Just until I'd feel that the little one was strong enough to stand by himself. I didn't think how huge the galaxy was - how easy it was to get lost there. How every microt would distance me from the ones I left behind - not only in space but in our minds, too.

I was wrong about many things. About my chances of going back. As well as about Talyn needing me.

He'd chosen; chosen Crais over me - and all I could do after that was witness the mute interaction between them, the battle of their wills that I could influence in no way and the sweetness of their concordance where I had no place.

I could've left then; could've understood there was nothing I could do. But I stayed - out of stubborn conviction that I might change something to better for Talyn, might do for him what no one had done for me when I was separated from my family so many cycles ago. I stayed because my presence - my touch, my talking to him - might give him something that his Captain couldn't ever give him and hardly would even try.

My maternal instinct kicked in so suddenly - or my hope for redemption.

But I don't think I managed to redeem anything - and I was a bad mother - for my own son as well as for Talyn.

We fled; strove deeper into Uncharted Territories, away from the planets where the Peacekeepers' beckons announced us irreversibly contaminated, offering awards for our capture. And little by little under the strain of time and distance the thin threads that linked my heart to those whom I'd left on Moya were tearing. First it caused me terror and pain - and then somehow it hurt less and less. Time healed me; I still missed them but I got used to the thought that I would miss them for all my life.

There were two of us on the ship, Crais and I. Two - far away from home, of the same species, with the shared past of losses and shared present of dangers. Male and female. It had to happen between us. It happened. A night of raw passion, our bodies slamming into each other, our mouths ravenous. Desire that couldn't be quenched no matter how many times we coiled in one.

The next morning we found it difficult to face each other - and because of that looked into each other's eyes more defiantly than ever - and Crais' gaze told me: "It means nothing," - while mine answered: "It changes nothing."

But of course it changed everything. We still remembered who we were, what we had done to each other - and the parallels in our past were more impossible to step over than any differences might be. But being so close with him, in this forced proximity - nearly touching by our shoulders now and then - it took its toll. An accidental touch - a brush of his hair against my cheek - a reminding intonation triggered it all again and again. And, with no words exchanged, we started tearing each other's clothes, ravaging each other's mouths, our bodies fighting for every bit of pleasure we could give or get.

Then I conceived.

I didn't know it at first, didn't believe it later - and I didn't tell Crais about it until it became impossible to hide. I was not sure what I felt. I wanted this baby; I was afraid, too. I wanted it to be only my child - with him having nothing to do with it. He had Talyn, after all, had taken him away from me. But this baby had to be only mine.

It was one more time when I could've left. I thought about it - could've demanded to leave me on one of the planets, suitable for living. But the truth was that somehow the shared intimacy aboard Talyn had grown on me by then. My eyes got used to the bright red colors of Talyn's insides, found them caressing - found the flickering lights of the ship a sign of stability. I liked the nomadic life we had. Maybe, it was just the defensive mechanism of my mind - Talyn was the only thing that was left to me since I had lost everything. But I strangely realized that I liked it there.

And Crais was a part of it; a part of my new home - my new family - and I knew somehow I would miss him if I left; would miss his wildly handsome face and his velvety teasing voice that purred little endearments to me after our love-making and dropped ruthless insinuations in our rows. I would miss warmth and strength of his arms around me - and our wearing-out spars that sometimes were full of the same tormenting desire as our sex.

He said:

"I will respect your choice," - and I chose to stay - and I believed it was right. He wanted this child as much as I did.

And when our son was born - dark-haired and - unexplainably - staring at us with brilliant blue eyes, not the milk blue eyes of a baby - but sapphire blue - the eyes of John Crichton - Crais said to me:

"We'll never let anyone to take him away from us, Aeryn."

I believed him.

We named our son Miro; skipped the names of our dear ones, dead and not dead, because we wanted for him to start everything anew.

He looked a lot like me - except the eyes, that is - and I recognized my own stubbornness in him - my attempts to fight for control, over himself and over the situation - and my own belief in doing right things. But he inherited his father's violent nature as well - his arrogance - and sometimes it shocked me when so clearly I recognized in him Crais' ruthlessness and determination.

So much for thinking him to be only mine.

And yet when I saw him running to Crais along Talyn's corridor - and being caught and raised in the air - as their eyes reveled in each other - when I watched them talking, sharing secrets - I thought I had been right that I didn't deprive them both of it.

Miro grew; his intelligence was so sharp that sometimes it scared us; made us proud, too. The maturity of his decisions was far beyond his age. But living in constant danger, knowing that he was chased from the day he was born - it was what made him grow fast. But when he was five and I found him on Talyn's bridge, silent, looking to nowhere in concentration - then I thought for the first time that something was wrong.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Talking to Talyn," he answered me. Only he hadn't said anything during all this time.

He'd inherited from his father more than we could ever think; needed no words to communicate to our leviathan - but needed no hand of friendship to have the interface implanted in his brain either. He was born with it in his genes.

We kept travelling through unknown territories - to the part of galaxy where the Peacekeepers' hands never reached. There were new planets and new species - some of them were awed with the huge and thoroughly armed leviathan. Some sought our help and we provided it. Not so much out of mercy but because we could - because Talyn was strong enough - and because it gave us a chance to believe that we were doing something that was worth doing.

Miro was twelve cycles old when he told us that Talyn needed a mate. It surprised me - especially our son's certainty in it. Crais took it with the usual calm irony of his:

"Well, a mate is a good idea but where shall we get her?"

And Miro answered:

"Talyn will find her. He knows where she can be."

I don't know why something in my heart clenched painfully at these words; what kind of foreboding it was. There could be nothing bad in Talyn seeking for what every living creature wanted to find. Yet I talked to Miro trying to convince him to change their mind. But did I say he was a stubborn one?

Talyn didn't even want to listen to me. And Crais didn't share my worries:

"Let's go there, why not? Not that we have anything else to do."

I didn't know if he could hinder Talyn to do it even if he wanted to - commanding the leviathan was never an easy task. But he didn't want to hinder anything.

We had to change the vector of our movement if we were going to do it. And it would take us even farther from our world. Then I thought suddenly that we could return. In so many cycles it might be already safe for us to do it - our standing warrants had to expire - and Scorpius might be dead by now. We could go back. And, maybe, then I would meet John again.

Maybe, promising to Talyn that we would find Moya would distract him from his quest for a mate.

But as I stood in front of the mirror, looking at the first strands of silver in my hair, I felt that I was not sure I wanted to go back. Too much time passed. They all could've been dead; they probably thought me dead, too. And in a way it was true. The Aeryn they had known was gone. I had changed.

And a few weekens later we found what Talyn was looking for - leviathans, not one of them but many. Never been captured and enslaved. Talyn was happy; and I was happy for him.

But then, monans later, his mate bore him a baby - a baby that nearly killed her with its weapon-laden body. It was carrying the same arms as its father was.

History repeated itself, didn't it? But come to think about it, how could it not?

Now I knew what I feared. I reproached Miro and Talyn for their thoughtlessness - but strangely, neither of them seemed to be affected.

"Talyn is going to stay here. He needs to mate again," Miro said.

The newborn leviathan obeyed no one but our son - and Miro even didn't need to board it to command it. Staying on Talyn he could order it to do whatever he wanted.

"We need more babies like this," he said.

"Why do we need them?" I asked feeling how a cold hand squeezed my heart again.

"I want to go back," he said. "I want to return - but not as a fugitive, sneaking back into my father's world. I want to come openly there. And I want to revenge myself upon them. For everything they did to you - my mother - and to my father. For everything they did to Talyn's mother."

I didn't know what I wanted more then - to laugh or to cry. He was wrong - wrong about everything. Later I screamed at Crais:

"You had done it to him, what did you tell him about us?"

But as I looked in his eyes, recognizing their warmth and their implacability - because just a little while ago with the same compassion and coldness my son's blue eyes stared at me - I knew that no matter how I wanted to blame him for it, it was not his fault.

No one needed to tell anything to our son; he made decisions on his own.

Miro was more than simply what we could give him before his birth; just as Talyn was more than his mother and his Peacekeeper fathers.

Ironic, wasn't it? History repeated itself in more ways than one.

"We need to go away from here," I said to Crais. We went away. But we returned. We kept returning there.

More Talyn's children were born - armed and waiting for the commands of our son. And now I knew what he was dong. Building an army.

Cycles passed. He'd become a man. He married; his wives bore him children. Some of them could give the commands to the leviathans in their heads.

Talyn's children mated, giving the birth to the next generation of warship leviathans. Their weapons mutated, becoming more sophisticated and more dangerous.

In the huge body of Talyn I felt lost and lonely, meeting the awed stares of those who lived with us on the ship now - Miro's companions and followers. They adored him - and I was the mother of their hero, their liberator and their avenger.

I missed Crais; I hadn't ever thought I would. He was there, on the ship - but somehow the understanding of what our son was doing put the barrier between us, made us alien. We looked at each other - and it hurt to see the sparks of the fire that had burnt between us once. But we never even touched each other now.

He had lovers; I had mistresses. He died in the arms of a blond girl from one of the planets we'd visited in our travels.

He was mourned heavily. For seven solar days Talyn stayed with all his systems switched off, not wanting anyone on his board. After that the transport pod brought Crais' body to the planet that was chosen for his grave - and the convoy of leviathans lined around it in a solemn and frightening procession. And Miro, with his long raven hair loosened on his shoulders stood on Talyn's bridge and his eyes of startling blue were grave and determined.

Then the cannons of the leviathans aimed at the planet - and they shot all together, making the planet disappear in flame.

It was Miro's farewell to his father. And the first demonstration what his army could do.

It took a few more cycles for him to check everything, to solidify their rows, to go over strategy and tactics. And all this time I still tried to believe that he wouldn't do it.

Or, maybe, I believed that I wouldn't live long enough to see it.

I grew older. Not old enough, though. I just wished I could go as Bialar did. Why couldn't I? Why did I have to see it?

Because I was his mother.

* * *

... He's started last monan - leading the monstrous army of alive machines - back to our world. He is doing what he wanted to do - returning as a victor. Even if the victory still has to be achieved.

But he is awfully determined; as always.

And everyone that follows him - people and leviathans - are determined, too. They had never been in our world but they believe it is evil. It can't be otherwise - this world banished and chased those whom they awe and glorify.

Evil has to be destroyed.

I am in my quarters as we move on; guarded, forbidden to go out. It is said to be done in my interests - and the maids that stay with me day and night are said to take care of me. There is respect and implacability in their eyes.

My son doesn't want me to embarrass him any more. He doesn't want me to try to stop him.

I'd failed in many things in my life. I hadn't been able to change anything for Talyn when I stayed with him; I hadn't made a wise decision about my son when I could have saved both of us. But it had never so bitter as now when I could not prevent Miro from his demented attack.

Nothing is left for me but to wait for the end of it. I know I will see it - whether it will be my homeworld turning into ashes under the lethal weapons of my son's army - or the leviathans killed one by one by the forces of those whom I had been once.

I don't know who will prevail. And I try not to think about it. Lying in my bed while my body struggles to reject the food they stuff into me to keep me from starving myself to death, I resurrect in front of my eyes the face of the man I had loved and left, the feeling his fingers intertwined with mine in the last touch that we had. And I wonder if he is still alive, if he'd returned home. If he'd ever be able to forgive me.



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