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Hybrid (6 and 7/x)
Writing
misaditas wrote in misaditas_fic
Characters: Bialar Crais, Aeryn Sun
Setting: Season 4. AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aeryn leaves Moya and John, heads off into the unknown. But passing the site of the Carrier's destruction she receives a signal that should not be possible...

( One | Two | Three | Four | Five )



The bar, much to Bialar’s relief, does in fact have raslak. The woman behind the counter stares at him, startled so much by his appearance that she spills the alcohol. She swears and hands him the glasses before attempting to mop up the mess. He smirks at the top of her head and crosses the room to sit at the table Aeryn has commandeered.

“You’re going to have to get used to that reaction,” she notes as he gives her a glass.

“Yes I suppose so.” He sits down and takes a large mouthful of his drink, feeling the warmth of the alcohol course down his throat. Whatever changes have occurred to his body, he is pleased to note that the raslak still has an effect.

“She’s still looking,” Aeryn says and then smirks. “Maybe you have an admirer?”

He pulls a face. “Not my type.”

“What type is that? Unattached?”

He gives her a steady look. “That is not funny.”

“Sorry.” She swirls the liquid in her cup. “I’m not going back, you know.”

Bialar doesn’t know what to make of that statement. “I… didn’t say that you would,” he says slowly. She stares into her glass, her face pale. He suddenly realises where this is going. “Your offer to remain with me needs no further… commitment, Aeryn. If you changed your mind tomorrow, I would not hold that against you.”

She glances up then. “I… thank you.”

“Is there anything else we need to cover?”

She smiles slightly. “No. I think we’re good.”

“Very well.” He lifts the glass and then pauses. “One other thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Just come out and say it next time hm? Fortunately I gathered what you were hinting at, but I think things would be better if we are honest with each other Aeryn.”

Her cheeks colour slightly and she jerks a brief nod. “Alright.”

“Right.” He finishes his drink. “You want another?”

“Yes,” she says adamantly.

He grins and sweeps up her glass. “I’ll be right back, right after I’ve charmed the bartender.”


Her laughter follows him across the room.


They are rather drunk by the time they give up on waiting for the tailor and make arrangements for a room. They stumble up the stairs. Aeryn missteps at the top and sprawls on the landing. Bialar tries to help her up but is hindered by the fact he is laughing at her.

“Shut up,” she tells him, which makes him laugh more. He grabs her hand and hauls her to her unsteady feet.

“There you go,” he says. She huffs at him but does not pull away when he takes her hand in his. He peers at the peeling painted number on the nearest door, and points down the passageway. “It’s that way.”

“If you say so.”

He leads her to the right door and, after several fumbled attempts, manages to get the key into the lock. It clicks loudly as he twists it and he opens the door. He bows extravagantly to Aeryn.

“After you, Officer Sun.” She chuckles at this display of manners and sweeps in regally. He grins at her and follows her, closing the door behind them.

The room is small and the curtains that hang at the window are faded, but everything is clean. He decides that it will suffice for the moment. Aeryn flops onto the bed and he smiles at that as he heads to the window. He opens it and allows the cool air to enter the room. Then he turns and looks at her.

“How much longer, do you suppose?”

“No idea,” she mumbles sleepily. “But I think… I think I am going to go to sleep.”

“Too much raslak,” he notes with a chuckle.

“Hm.” She shifts onto one side and bunches the pillow under her head. “Are you…?”

“I feel fine.” He does, oddly. Oh his head buzzes somewhat, but it is vague and he doesn’t feel any unpleasant effect. “You sleep. I’ll… wait.”

She doesn’t answer and he realises she’s already gone. He rolls his eyes and then crosses to the bed. Stares down at her for several microts, a soft smile on his face. He is more grateful for her remaining with him that he can put into words. Taking one of the blankets from the end of the bed, he carefully covers her over and then strokes the dark hair.

“She won’t be happy if she catches you doing that.” Talyn’s sudden observation makes him jump.

He expels a hard breath. “She won’t catch me,” he replies. “She’s deeply asleep.”

“Is that a valid excuse?”

“I am merely looking after her. I have no ulterior motive in mind.”

Talyn snorts. “I’m in your mind, Bialar,” he reminds him. “I know that is a lie.”

Bialar says nothing for a moment, just looks at Aeryn. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs aloud finally. “She is never going to see me now.”

“Us,” Talyn corrects and Bialar shrugs a shoulder.

“The point remains that I am no longer Sebacean. I am… I have no idea.”

“Unique.”

“Different.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not… exactly.”

Talyn sighs. “It is a matter of opinion. What do you see it as?”

“I was not thinking of me,” he admits, his eyes sliding down to Aeryn’s slumbering form again. “Were you aware of the stares we got just coming here? People see something different, something strange.” He pauses. “Something to fear.”

“Aeryn does not fear us.”

“No. But neither does she…” He lets his words trail off. Talyn is more than aware of his feelings for Aeryn Sun. “It might not even matter.”

Talyn sniggers. “I’m pretty sure we are… fully functional, Bialar.”

He does not answer that but hauls his mental barriers up instead, pushing the second consciousness away from his awareness as he moves from the bed. He is not ready to examine that part of himself right now.

Despite the alcohol, he feels no tiredness. It is possible this form needs little rest but he knows he could not sleep now even if he wanted to. There is a chair in the corner of the room and he throws himself into this and stares bleakly out at the darkening sky.

~ ~ ~


It is fully dark when Aeryn wakes up. At first she is not sure what has awakened her, but then she hears the banging at the door. She hauls herself out of bed, noting vaguely that she has been covered over at some point, and stumbles across to the door.

She finds the tailor on the other side and has to root for the credits she owes him. Grabbing the packages, she presses the money into his hand and then kicks the door shut. She turns and scans the room. There is a hulking shadow in the corner that she assumes is Bialar. She elbows the light switch and blinks against the sudden light.

“Ow.”

The shape is indeed Bialar. He has his legs curled underneath him and has not reacted to the light whatsoever. Her heart sinks at the look on his face.

“Bialar?” He does not move, not even to blink. Aeryn drops the packages onto the bed and goes to the chair. Puts one hand on his shoulder. “Bialar?”

“You should go,” he says in a toneless voice.

“Ah frell,” she mutters and wonders what has brought this on. “Hey, don’t you do this to me now.” There’s still no reaction so she tightens her grip. “Crais!”

“Even a copy is better than nothing. It is considerably better than… being something else.”

Aeryn breathes out slowly in an attempt to keep calm. “Being something else is better than being dead,” she asserts. “So stop it. I have made my choice and your having a snit is not going to change it.”

Finally he reacts, blinks, and she finds herself relieved at that almost normal animation. She watches his head shake slightly and smiles, slides her hand from his shoulder and down his arm. He shudders beneath her palm.

“Ah,” she says softly, and curses her earlier teasing. Even though he is radically altered, he is still male. She leans in and kisses his cheek gently. “Just because you’re different that doesn’t mean you are repulsive.”

He snorts at that and turns to face her. “Really?” he says harshly.

“Really.” She stands. “The tailor came by finally. I’m going to try mine on.” With that she leaves him and grabs a package. She opens it to find a pair of trousers in black silk. “Well they’re yours,” she notes and drops them on the bed. She tries a second and this time finds the dress. She throws him a quick smile and then ducks into the attached bathroom.

She did not think she would wear a dress again after Valldon, but this… this suits her. This dress, with its colour chosen by Bialar. She smiles slightly, half intrigued by his ability to have picked it out, half wondering if she really wants to know how – she has been witness to his fantasies before.

Still… she likes this, likes the way it looks on her. The silk swirls around her ankles, clings to her hips. She reaches up and undoes the plait, shakes her hair loose. The end result is… different. Not quite as different as he is, but still different. She chuckles and heads out, eager to show her alteration off.

And stops dead.

He is stood at the foot of the bed, the new trousers in his hands, caught in the middle of changing. Aeryn blinks and swallows. He wears nothing but regulation underwear, but it is not the level of nakedness that stops her. It’s the colour of his skin.

She has gotten used to his face – more or less – but the variations of black and red are not limited to there. They spread over his entire body, cover his chest, and travel down his arms and legs. The liquid night of his eyes regards her sourly.

“I thought you would take longer,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see me like… this.” He makes no move to cover himself but looks away, his discomfort apparent. It galvanises her into action and she crosses the room, though her steps slow as she gets closer.

His shoulder is hard and cold under her hand, and she can feel the ridging of the lines that run over his body. She follows the trail down his arm. The muscles beneath the skin are corded and tense.

“Why not?” she asks gently.

He breathes out slowly and then looks at her. “Do not pretend you have not noticed.”

“I was… surprised, yotz only knows why, but it’s not…” She pauses and moves in front of him, cups his cheek. “Bialar you are not repulsive. Just different.”

“Irreversibly contaminated,” he says. She refuses to be dissuaded and holds his gaze.

“That was the beginning of my life,” she reminds him. “This is not the end of yours.”

Bialar sighs and moves away from her hand. She watches him sit on the bed and haul on his trousers. She is not sure she has managed to get through to him, isn’t sure what else she can say. He continues to dress and ignore her. Aeryn sighs and goes to the window.

“Aeryn,” he says then.

She focuses on his reflection in the glass. “Yes?”

“I… I have not adjusted.”

She turns. “Bialar I would be very surprised if you had.” She crosses the room and sits next to him. “You need to be less hard on yourself. It is a lot to adjust to. Give yourself some time.” He shakes his head so she nudges him. “Yes?”

“I’m not so–”

“Yes, Bialar,” she says tartly. “The correct answer is yes.”

He makes an odd sound somewhere between a derisive snort and a wry laugh, reaches behind him and grabs the top. She watches him pull it on. The dark colours harmonise with his skin, soften the hard lines of his new form. The result is not unattractive. She smiles slightly, which is the precise moment he looks at her.

“Yes.”

“Anyway, it’s not that bad,” she adds blithely.

“Thank you,” he says dryly. “Such a vote of confidence.”

“Do you believe me?”

He snorts. “Not particularly.”

Aeryn frowns. She would argue her point but suspects it’s pointless. And she has a better idea. Capturing his face between her hands, she leans in and kisses him full on the mouth.

His lips are cool and dry, but softer than she expected. The beard tickles her chin and she can smell the lingering scent of soot. He tastes of raslak and bitterness and she aches for him, closes her eyes against his pain. After a long moment, he responds – one hand settles on her hip, his thumb circling over the bone. She slides her arms around his neck, deepens the kiss.

They break apart after several moments, both oddly breathless. The ruddy colourisation on Bialar’s face is more pronounced and Aeryn chuckles at the blush, traces it with her fingers. She no longer finds the lines repulsive, just a part of what he is now. Not contaminated but rather darkly exotic. Attractively different.

Her voice is husky as she asks, “I trust I made my point?”

?

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