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Onboard Moya, On a Commerce Planet...and then on the Causeway
Moya was a large ship but everyone’s sleeping quarters were in the same general area and so it was no surprise that this new temporary arrangement was very quickly discovered by others on board.
“You,” Crichton said to Chiana, eyes wide when he cornered her in a corridor after seeing her leaving Stark’s room early, “and Stark? Really? Our Stark? Same Stark we’ve known for cycles? My side your side, sees ghosts sometimes? That Stark?”
“You know another one? And why do you care?” Chiana asked, falling into a combative stance. “I’m a big girl and my bed’s my business.”
“And Stark’s, apparently!”
“It’s not yours,” Chiana told him, pushing past.
Crichton stared after her, then turned back and stood outside Stark’s door yelling for him to come out.
“What? What? What’s wrong?” Stark had asked, alarmed.
“The frell’re you doing with Chiana?” Crichton demanded.
“Nothing!” Stark had said immediately. Which was true at the moment. He took an involuntary step backward. “She…she offered. And I…we…it’s nothing to do with you. Why do you care?”
“Because it’s Pip!”
“It’s nothing to do with you,” Stark repeated.
“You, you…” Crichton said. “We’re gonna talk later!”
In spite of Crichton’s shock, and his gossiping to everyone else on board (Noranti thought it was wonderful, Aeryn pointedly asked why he was so concerned about who Chiana was recreating with, and Pilot reminded him that he and Moya were well aware of what went on onboard), things continued for a while longer. The companionship was, perhaps, something they both needed for now.
“You thinking about going back?” Chiana asked one night, a couple of weekens into this new development.
“I…I should. Sometime,” Stark said quietly. They were in her bed. He was on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and she was on his right. It was easier to talk, sometimes, in the dark and when they weren’t looking at each other.
“You’ve been here…how long now?”
“I lost track. With the dungeons and coup and…everything. 2 months? I don’t know. I don’t know how long it’s been there, either. I only…Anakin messaged once. It was still February then. They were on the trip…I missed the trip. I like the trips. Or I did, before.”
“You gonna need a ride?”
“I didn’t say I was going now.”
“You didn’t say you weren’t. It’s okay, Stark.”
“Is it? I don’t…I don’t want to do what…”
“You’re not,” Chiana assured him. “It’s not the same. This is what it is. Fun. A good way to help the loneliness. But we both knew what we were getting into, right?”
“We did,” he agreed. “I do want to go back. Soon, I think. You could come. If you wanted. Or I’ll find a portal. My phone still works.”
“Figure out how to get back and we’ll make sure you get there. Maybe I’ll come visit again sometime.”
“Would you?”
“‘Course I would.”
“Thank you.” He turned on to his side then so he could face her. “For…everything.”
“Get some sleep,” she told him.
He did, eventually. They both did. And the next morning he opened the Portalocity app on his phone to search for a way back to the island. There were options. Not wanting to rush any goodbyes this time, he opted for one a couple of solar days away, from a nearby commerce planet.
He made his farewells to Pilot and Moya first. The DRD that was being sent back with him came as a surprise but Pilot said this way ought to provide better communication than just his comms, if he wanted, and could be helpful in other ways if he chose. Then Noranti, refusing her offers of various concoctions and hoping nothing had been slipped into his belongings when he wasn’t looking.
He lingered over baby D’Argo after saying goodbye to Aeryn and Crichton (who was still acting oddly but he was Crichton and that was to be expected), whispering as many prayers and blessings as he could think of over the child, much as he’d done the last time he’d left Moya.
He had said goodbye to Chiana privately before boarding the transport pod. When it was time for the portal she had whispered something in his ear that startled a laugh out of him before sending him on his way.
That was how he found himself back on the causeway in Fandom Sunday morning, hoping coming back had been the correct choice.
[Obvs the bit about the saddest alien coming back can be for broadcast, the rest was NFB for distance. Open if someone wants to catch him walking back to his apartment.]
“You,” Crichton said to Chiana, eyes wide when he cornered her in a corridor after seeing her leaving Stark’s room early, “and Stark? Really? Our Stark? Same Stark we’ve known for cycles? My side your side, sees ghosts sometimes? That Stark?”
“You know another one? And why do you care?” Chiana asked, falling into a combative stance. “I’m a big girl and my bed’s my business.”
“And Stark’s, apparently!”
“It’s not yours,” Chiana told him, pushing past.
Crichton stared after her, then turned back and stood outside Stark’s door yelling for him to come out.
“What? What? What’s wrong?” Stark had asked, alarmed.
“The frell’re you doing with Chiana?” Crichton demanded.
“Nothing!” Stark had said immediately. Which was true at the moment. He took an involuntary step backward. “She…she offered. And I…we…it’s nothing to do with you. Why do you care?”
“Because it’s Pip!”
“It’s nothing to do with you,” Stark repeated.
“You, you…” Crichton said. “We’re gonna talk later!”
In spite of Crichton’s shock, and his gossiping to everyone else on board (Noranti thought it was wonderful, Aeryn pointedly asked why he was so concerned about who Chiana was recreating with, and Pilot reminded him that he and Moya were well aware of what went on onboard), things continued for a while longer. The companionship was, perhaps, something they both needed for now.
“You thinking about going back?” Chiana asked one night, a couple of weekens into this new development.
“I…I should. Sometime,” Stark said quietly. They were in her bed. He was on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and she was on his right. It was easier to talk, sometimes, in the dark and when they weren’t looking at each other.
“You’ve been here…how long now?”
“I lost track. With the dungeons and coup and…everything. 2 months? I don’t know. I don’t know how long it’s been there, either. I only…Anakin messaged once. It was still February then. They were on the trip…I missed the trip. I like the trips. Or I did, before.”
“You gonna need a ride?”
“I didn’t say I was going now.”
“You didn’t say you weren’t. It’s okay, Stark.”
“Is it? I don’t…I don’t want to do what…”
“You’re not,” Chiana assured him. “It’s not the same. This is what it is. Fun. A good way to help the loneliness. But we both knew what we were getting into, right?”
“We did,” he agreed. “I do want to go back. Soon, I think. You could come. If you wanted. Or I’ll find a portal. My phone still works.”
“Figure out how to get back and we’ll make sure you get there. Maybe I’ll come visit again sometime.”
“Would you?”
“‘Course I would.”
“Thank you.” He turned on to his side then so he could face her. “For…everything.”
“Get some sleep,” she told him.
He did, eventually. They both did. And the next morning he opened the Portalocity app on his phone to search for a way back to the island. There were options. Not wanting to rush any goodbyes this time, he opted for one a couple of solar days away, from a nearby commerce planet.
He made his farewells to Pilot and Moya first. The DRD that was being sent back with him came as a surprise but Pilot said this way ought to provide better communication than just his comms, if he wanted, and could be helpful in other ways if he chose. Then Noranti, refusing her offers of various concoctions and hoping nothing had been slipped into his belongings when he wasn’t looking.
He lingered over baby D’Argo after saying goodbye to Aeryn and Crichton (who was still acting oddly but he was Crichton and that was to be expected), whispering as many prayers and blessings as he could think of over the child, much as he’d done the last time he’d left Moya.
He had said goodbye to Chiana privately before boarding the transport pod. When it was time for the portal she had whispered something in his ear that startled a laugh out of him before sending him on his way.
That was how he found himself back on the causeway in Fandom Sunday morning, hoping coming back had been the correct choice.
[Obvs the bit about the saddest alien coming back can be for broadcast, the rest was NFB for distance. Open if someone wants to catch him walking back to his apartment.]