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Callista

July 2007

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ladycallie in ladycallie_fic

Farscape Fic: Sound Falling Down

Title: Sound Falling Down
Rating: R for sex
Word count: 3368
Setting: Earth pre Terra Firma




I swore I wasn't going to write this, and behold here it is.  It can be read alone, but it might make a little more sense if you've read  Mad World. A world a thanks goes to  lyricalviolet for her beta work and unending encouragement.



Disclaimer: Henson and Co …..I just “borrow” them from time to time. Sadly, they are not like Blockbuster where if you decide you want to keep them, they just charge the full amount to your account. Damn. Lyrics by Enya.

Without further ado...


Previously on Farscape:


~*~

Part of her had secretly hoped that after being here for a while John would remember her, make good on his promise to show her his world.

Once she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, she began to relax for the first time in days. Tilting her face upwards, she let the rain pour over her, surround her like a blanket.

~*~

"What do you mean, they can't find Aeryn?"

~*~

John. Everything reminded her of him. Overhead thunder rumbled a long low roll. She continued towards the waterfront at a slow walk, the storm dancing above her.

~*~

“Okay. Where are you going?”

John pulled the side door open, the sound of the rain increasing. “I’m going to find her.”

~*~

He knew his twin was right.

She’s fading John
, the ghost continued. You’re killing her slowly. I can’t rescue her, I’m gone, done, benched, outa the game. This is going to be up to you. If you don’t want her, you need to let her go. It’s not fair to her. We used to love her, I loved her, but if you don’t anymore, you owe it to her to end it quickly.

~*~

He pressed his cheek against her forehead, surrendering to her. He looped his arms around her back, fingers toying with the edge of the towel. For a long moment, they just stood together, savoring the contact.

He sighed, “We’re really frelled up, aren’t we?” He couldn’t tell if it was a raindrop or a teardrop that fell down her cheek. It didn’t really matter.

“Yes.”

~*~

He backed towards the door. “We should go. There are some guys downstairs who’ll need to talk to you, once you’re dry.”

He saw her shoulders slump, saw the shimmer in her eyes dim.

Careful John. She’s fragile.

“I, ah, can make some coffee first. Sneak it past the suits, if you’d rather wait and explain things tomorrow.” He offered her a small smile.

The faintest hint of a smile brushed her lips, “That would be nice, John.”


And now on Farscape:


Feel the touch of tears that fall
They won't fall forever
In the way, the day will flow
All things come, all things go


 
John reached out and caught Aeryn’s hand, gently holding her slim fingers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. He stared at her hand, her skin still damp from the rain. A thousand different sensations hit him instantly, like an electrical shock coursing through his body. A memory tugged at him-

Red warmth pulsing, alive. Talyn. Aeryn beside him, resting on her arms, him on his side next to a view port. Pointing to his battered journal, “This is a star chart. These are the names I give the stars.” 

“They’ve already got names.”

He chuckles softly, not criticizing, “Yeah, I know, but... Mintaka Three sounds... boring to me. Anyway, that's Hewey, Louie, and Dewey.” The page is filled with dots and squiggly lines. “You see that one?” He taps the center point, then indicates out the window,  “That's that star right there... the bright one.”

“That's my point of reference-- my guide-- and it always becomes the center of my chart. I always name it Aeryn.”

She blinks, eyes moist, “You say it's your guide?”
 
“It's my one constant.”


John exhaled slowly, blowing the smell of warm metal, sweat and chakan oil out of his nose. On a good day he can taste her kisses, sweet honeyed wine on his lips until the lakka burns his senses, jolting him into reality and turning the visions into ash, soft grey powder crumbling and flaking and forgotten with a sigh. For a little while. Maybe it was a side effect of the lakka, maybe it was his own overactive imagination, or that of the ghost lurking in his head, but memories from the dead John Crichton had begun to bleed into his own. After Aeryn left with Talyn he had been plagued with visions the other him doing things both naughty and nice that he wanted to do with Aeryn, to Aeryn.


Aeryn shifted, tugging the edges of the towel tighter around her. Her forehead creased as she bit worriedly at her lower lip. John snapped himself out of his stupor, realizing he still had her hand in his. He released it, fumbling for words, “Um, do you need anything?” He gestured at the bathroom, “More towels or something?”
 
She shook her head, “No, I’m fine.”
 
“Oh.”
 
An awkward silence filled the room. Aeryn fidgeted with the towel again, eyes downcast, clearly uncomfortable.
 
You are such a dickhead. Look what you’ve done to this incredible woman!
 
He pulled the door open, attempting to shove out the voice of his dead twin. “Uh, I’ll be back. In a moment. With coffee. Okay?”
 
She nodded, not looking at him.

 
John shut the door quietly and leaned his temple on the dark wood. Was that from you?
 
I thought you needed a little encouragement.
 
God this was weird. After having Harvey around for so long, it was strange to talk to a different voice in his head. He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.
 
I heard that.
 
Of course you did.
 
Why are you standing in the hallway talking to me when you could be in the bedroom with Aeryn? It’s even still raining… perfect time for a long awaited encore!
 
Don’t go there.
 
Fine, you go there. What are you waiting for?
 
Where do you want me to start? Scorpius--
 
Isn’t here.
 
Earth--
 
Thinks you are shaking up already.
 
Baby--
 
Doesn’t matter. Not to her, and not to you.
 
Fine! What about trust? She finds out she’s pregnant and instead of dealing with it she takes off--again-- and then comes back refusing--again-- to talk about what happened. She didn’t say anything about the baby until I did. How am I supposed to trust her after that?

 
Raindrops pattered on the rooftop as John slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, waiting for a response.
 
Trust takes time. Like she does. Yeah, she messed up too, but this is all new to her and it’s scary. What if you lost her and then found someone who was ‘equal and original’ to her? Who smiled and laughed and walked and talked and loved you the same? Can you honestly say you'd have handle it any better? 

A memory tugged at him-clearing away debris in Moya’s atmospheric scrubbers, 'I would put my life... in your hands... but not my heart', walking away pretending not to care about the tears on her face, or those burning in the back of his eyes. Ignoring the rattlers in his belly. He stared at the door, and realized how very close he was to making the same mistake again.

 
Forgetting about the coffee, he pushed the door open. Aeryn hadn’t moved, other than letting her arms fall to her sides. Her eyes widened nervously and she licked her lips as he moved to stand in front of her. She exhaled quickly, words tumbling out, “Do you want me to go back to Moya?”
 
He shook his head, surprised by her question. “That is entirely up to you.”
 
She swallowed roughly. “Fine. Then I’ll go with whatever you’d prefer.” She stepped around him, angling herself towards the window. She brushed a piece of wet ebony hair off her cheek. “Look. I’m not trying to pressure you, John.” The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “I’m actually trying to take the pressure off.”
 
She took a quick breath, forcing the words out, “Would you be happier if I wasn’t here on Earth? You don’t have to justify it or explain it—” Her voice caught. Tears trembled on her lashes. “Just give me an honest yes or no.”
 
John stepped closer as a single tear fell down Aeryn’s cheek. This close he could see her lower lip quivering as she handed herself to him, putting the situation completely in his hands. He closed the space between them.
 
“Stay.”
 
She gasped, her mouth falling open as she sagged in relief. Her head dropped, tears streaming down her cheeks and chin. Murmuring softly, he pulled her to him, the towel from her shoulders falling to the floor with a sodden flop. She buried her face in his still wet shirt, just under his collarbone, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Shhh. Shh,” he whispered against her damp hair, pressing light kisses to her brow. Her whole body shook with the force of her tears but aside from muffled gasps for air, she was quiet. John gently soothed her, rocking slightly, holding her tight to his chest.
 
She sniffled and pulled back slightly without breaking their embrace, adjusting enough so that she could see his face. She brushed her fingertips across his cheek and along his temple, her blue-gray eyes searching his. “Yes?” Her head bobbed once, seeking more assurance.
 
He touched the tip of her nose with his, “Yes. Stay.”
 
Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath soft on his face. His own eyes closed as he brushed his lips against hers, gently at first, like that first time on Earth, in the rain, hesitant and afraid. Then Aeryn’s soft warm tongue caressed his upper lip and the world disappeared, leaving only them. His lips parted and their tongues met, fused together with lips and teeth and soft sighs and heart and soul and mind and body. Warmth and love and strength and passion swept in like the tide, pushing them together like waves against the beach. Renewing them.
 
John brought his hands to her face, threading his fingers into her dark hair, cradling her head. Aeryn responded, deepening her kisses, her tongue teasing the roof of his mouth. A very male part of his brain reminded him that she was wearing only a pair of wet jeans and a sports bra. John couldn’t quite suppress his moan of pleasure as he ran both hands up and down the length of her back, playing with the ends of her hair. He felt her smile against his mouth as she inhaled sharply though her nose, her own hum of appreciation beginning in the back of her throat, immerging as a feline purr, the vibrations rolling off her tongue.
 
He grinned back, moving his mouth to her jaw, nibbling his way to her neck. Pressing the tip of his tongue to the hallow behind her jaw and her ear, he alternated lips and teeth, teasing the delicate flesh of her earlobe gently.
 
Aeryn panted, her breath brushing across his ear, her eyes half closed in pleasure. Her hands were tracing patterns against his back, brushing away months of tension. His eyelids fluttered closed, a moan smothered against the soft skin of her neck as she pressed against a knot in his shoulder, the tight muscles loosening as her strong hands massaged his back. Her hands moved lower, fingers searching for the edge of his shirt. She made soft mewling sounds as his fingers ran down her arms to her waist, hooking into the belt loops of her pants, the pad of his thumbs stroking slow circles on her stomach, occasionally dipping just under her waistband. She shuddered in his arms, gooseflesh pebbling her skin.

She pulled back, staring at him bright eyed, every bit as intoxicated as he was. She tugged again at his shirt hem, and he acknowledged, releasing her just enough to allow her to pull his shirt off before drawing her mouth to his again. It was a slow kiss, not exactly gentle, but not torrid, either.
 
Her hands, slim fingers and smooth palms, lethal, loving, velvet and steel molded into skin and bones, moved across his chest, her knuckles lightly brushing his nipple, caressing lower, to stroke his ass. In return he reached up, massaging the curve of her breast. His fingers teased, curling under her bra to brush the cleft between her breasts, barely brushing against her hardened nipple. He learned she liked that. She moaned low in his mouth, pressing him closer, harder against her. His own arousal was evident, warm against her hip. “Bed?” he asked between kisses.
 
“Bed.” she nodded, clearly overwhelmed. John twisted, caught her around the waist and they fell back on the bed, locked together. They briefly struggled to get out of damp jeans and undergarments, hindered by a mutual need to remain in contact with each other and then, slowly, they began the gentle ballet of thrust and withdrawal that eventually sent them spiraling into oblivion.
 
The rain persisted, continued in miniature rivers down the window pane, drumming on rooftops, tapping on windows. Occasionally a thunderclap sounded, followed by lightning. Palm branches hissed as they brushed together in the wind, the sound nearly drowned out by waves pounding the shore outside the mansion. Inside, reunited lovers completed nature's symphony, their breathless cries lost in the sound of falling rain.
 

Even when this moment ends
Can't let go this feeling
Everything will come again in the sound falling down
Of the sky, as it cries
Hear my name in the rain 


-fin




Also on Farscape:


Late at night I drift away
I can hear you calling
And my name is in the rain
Leaves on trees whispering
Deep blue seas, mysteries



John’s hand grasped hers, solid and warm and so very familiar. She watched his face as he stared at their joined hands, caressing the back of hers gently. After so many monens John was looking at her unguardedly. Since her second return to Moya she had been unable to read him, finding cool uncaring blue eyes stare back at her, the few times he had kept eye contact for longer then a microt. The warmth of his hand seeped into hers, pushing away the cold that lingered from the rain. Several microts passed, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but his gaze seemed distant. Aeryn shifted uneasily as the air conditioning switched on, chilling her already damp skin. She tugged the edges of the fluffy beige towel tighter around her. Her forehead creased as she bit worriedly at her lower lip.

Startled, John’s head snapped up, and he dropped her hand, skittish again. He backed a step towards the door, “Um, do you need anything?” He gestured at the bathroom, “More towels or something?”

She shook her head, “No, I’m fine.”
 
“Oh.”
 
Except for the hum of the air conditioner, silence filled the room. Aeryn fidgeted with the towel again, unable to look up, scared she’d see that she had been shut out, pushed away, discarded once again.

He pulled the door open, “Uh, I’ll be back. In a moment. With coffee. Okay?”
 
She nodded, her hair falling over her shoulder, hiding her. She still couldn’t look at him.
 
The door shut with a quiet click.


Aeryn glared at the paneled wood, biting back tears.

“So, what's it gonna take? What do I have to do?”

“Just come back... when you have your story straight.”


Frell him. Frell that stupid human. Frellhimfrellhimfrellhim! She was sick of this game, sick of reaching out only to be shoved away.

She startled as the door opened quickly, hands falling to her sides as John stepped back into her room. He stopped in front of her, less then an arm’s reach away. She licked her lips, her mouth gone dry with nerves. Drawing a deep breath, she blurted, “Do you want me to go back to Moya?”

He shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “That is entirely up to you.”

She swallowed but didn’t back down, “Fine. Then I’ll go with whatever you’d prefer.” She stepped around him, angling herself towards the window. She brushed a piece of wet ebony hair off her cheek. “Look. I’m not trying to pressure you, John.” The corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she realized the irony. “I’m actually trying to take the pressure off.”
 
She took a quick breath, forcing the words out, “Would you be happier if I wasn’t here on Earth? You don’t have to justify it or explain it—” Her voice caught as she struggled to keep from loosing her composure. Tears blurred the edges of her vision. “Just give me an honest yes or no.”

Her self-control was dissolving as he closed the space between them. Her breath caught in her chest, waiting for his decision.
 
“Stay.”

She gasped, the tension in her breaking. Her head dropped as hot tears fell down her cheeks and chin. Murmuring quietly, he pulled her to him, the towel slipping to the floor unnoticed. She buried her face in his still wet shirt, just under his collarbone, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Shhh. Shh,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her brow. Muffled gasps for air shook her body as John gently rocked her, holding her tight against his chest.

She sniffled wetly, pulling away without loosening their embrace to much, so that she could see his face. Her fingertips traced along his cheekbone and temple, brushing his short hair. She searched clear blue eyes, needing conformation, “Yes?”
 
He brushed the tip of her nose with his, lips pulling back in a grin, “Yes. Stay.”

She was struck by something in his voice, something tender, vulnerable, something she couldn’t help but recognize as hers. She closed her eyes as his lips brushed hers, gentle and chaste. She parted her lips, the tip of her tongue brushing across his upper lip, drawing him closer. His breath tickled her cheek and then his lips parted and their tongues meet, and this time it tasted nothing like yesterday, and she was becoming liquid, becoming water, becoming rain.

His hands were on her face, threading into her hair. She deepened her kisses, needing more of him, her tongue teased the roof of his mouth. A moan of pleasure rippled across his tongue as both hands ran up and down the length of her back, playing with the ends of her hair. Her fingers curled, clutching at his shirt. She hummed her appreciation low in her throat. His mouth moved to her jaw and along her neck. The tip of his tongue teased the hollow behind her jaw and her ear, lapping the delicate flesh of her earlobe gently.
 
Aeryn panted—she was adrift and the world was water, his arms were water and she was drowning in them, and she wasn’t afraid. Eyes closed with pleasure, her hands made star charts on his back, seeking the edge of his shirt. He ran his hands down her arms to her waist, around the belt loops of her pants, the pad of his thumbs stroking slow circles on her stomach, occasionally dipping just under her waistband. She shuddered, acutely aware of every nerve, every bit of skin.

She pulled back, blinking up into burning bright eyes. She tugged again at his shirt hem, and this time he acknowledged, releasing her just enough to allow her to pull his shirt off before drawing her mouth to his again.
 
She slid her hands across his chest—nothing feels like skin—lightly brushing his nipple, caressing lower, to stroke his ass. His hand moved, massaging the curve of her breast. His fingers tease, curling under her bra to brush the cleft between her breasts, barely brushing against her hardened nipple, sending waves of warmth to her core.  She moaned into his mouth, pressing closer, harder against him, rocking slowing against his arousal.

“Bed?” he asked between kisses.
 
“Bed.” She nodded and he twisted, catching her around the waist and they fall back on the bed, locked together. They briefly struggled to get out of damp jeans and undergarments, hindered by a mutual need to remain in contact with each other and then, they were naked together, flesh to flesh, and he was warm and in her arms and nothing else mattered.

What there was, was love, and lovemaking, passion and joy and fulfillment and the gentle pattering sound of rain falling down.

 
Even when this moment ends
Can't let go this feeling
Everything will come again in the sound falling down
Of the sky, as it cries
Hear my name in the rain 


-fin





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