By Minim Calibre
Notes: Episode coda to “Dog With Two Bones.”
“Aeryn, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”
Outside the module, Alice’s rabbit hole just got looking glassed. Moya’s vanished into a wormhole, he’s almost out of fuel, Aeryn’s–”
Crichton jerks his attention back to the cool flicker of the TV, watches himself come home to some wacky mess Aeryn’ gotten herself into and the laughter of the studio audience, which grows louder as D’argo-Fred and Chiana-Ethel throw quips like punches and Aeryn’s face screws into a knot like dyspeptic baby who’s about to blow.
“John, if I might interrupt this oh-so-fascinating glimpse into the sheer banality of your race’s culture…” Harvey leans over the back of the battered plaid couch, just as Aeryn starts to blubber and wail.
“Go right ahead, Harvey. It’s a rerun. Any minute now, I pat her on the head and she tells me she just wanted to be in the show, then we go at it all again next week.”
“I was wondering if perhaps you had a plan to get us out of here.”
Crichton gestures at the bowl of popcorn and the cold six pack sitting on the coffee table. “Everything I need’s right here.” All the comforts of home. He can feel the symbols and equations burning into his arms. So close. Everything was so damn close. Wormholes, Aeryn, Earth. All of it. Now if he looks outside his head, all he’ll see is how much nothing a man can get. He went for the bone that mattered and still wound up empty handed.
Harvey opens his mouth as if to say something, then shakes his head and starts to walk away.
He stops when Crichton says, his voice barely audible over the strains of the theme song, “It should have been episode 50.”
“I beg your pardon, John?”
“Episode 50.” Crichton fiddles with the pull tab on an empty can, wiggling it back and forth until it breaks off in his hand. “‘Lucy is Enceinte.’ They had to use the French, because the censors wouldn’t let them say…” his words trail off; he can’t say it, either. “Anyhow, it should have been episode 50.”
He leaves his head as the credits fade and scans the expanse of space for any sign that his luck didn’t just run out.
“Hey, Aeryn,” he whispers as he fixes his eyes on one particular star, “I’m home.”