not quite a minivanHe likes to watch her sleep, chest rising and falling, stone silent but for the occasional dream, when he can hear her talking to unseen foes. Snoring was obviously a habit Peacekeepers didn't allow—understandable when numerous soldiers share sleeping quarters. Even her breath makes no noise, not even the occasional whistle, of which she has accused him of more than once.
He doesn't know what she dreams about; the words and guttural noises she makes are incoherently Sebecean, and when he asks, she doesn't understand. She never remembers what fills her head at night---another Peacekeeper habit, no doubt to keep the screams of their victims out of the barracks.
There's a slight swell to her waistband tonight, and it will be considerably larger tomorrow, he knows and in several days a new addition will be made to Moya's crew. Another hybrid. Another little Sun-Crichton in the universe. The anticipation is nearly killing him.
The only worry lies within their first child—will he welcome the
one step closerHis arms and hands waved erratically in front of her face. "Wait, wait. Hold up," he yelled, "What?"
And she thought she'd been clear.
"I," Aeryn placed her index finger on her chest, "am," with a sweeping motion she gestured over her abdomen, "pregnant. Again." She even spoke it in English, although she wasn't quite sure of the word 'pregnant', but the man was a frelling tech. He could figure it out.
The look on his face strongly reminded her of Arnessk, when she'd suggested a name for their first child. Aeryn's lip quivered. Goddess help her if she started laughing.
His mouth moved for a few microts before any words actually came out, but, in Crichton fashion, they were jumbled. "Another one? But, but D'Argos only…what? Two? Are we ready for another one? What happened to 'three is a scary number'? Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"
Aeryn smiled at the scared and joyous expression on his face. At least this time she wasn't hiding it from him, or worried that it belonged to someone el
give hugs, not drugsHis family's unspoken pleas echoed around in his mind and he found himself wondering if he really could stay, on Earth, and resume a somewhat normal life.
Did it matter?
"Well, why not?" Harvey asked, arms crossed against his chest as he leaned into a decaying brick wall. The lighting was bad, but he could still see that Harvey was bored, annoyed. "As long as I've been here," he taps his forehead, "You've had a few recurring themes circling around. Aeryn--although that's faded recently--Earth, wormholes, Scorpius---quite frankly, you've thought about this too frelling much."
"Sorry you're bored, Harv," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. He wasn't in the mood, but he knew he needed to sort this out. And as bad as it sounded, Harvey was the only candidate he felt comfortable rationalizing this out with. Which scared him a little.
A frighteningly ugly grin lit up Harvey's leather clad face. "You like me! You really like me!"