Who: Moya and Cameron Mitchell When: Wednesday afternoon Where: Unit 1207 (Ruper Giles & Cameron Mitchell) What: Moya wants to see Cameron naked... Rating: Some nudity, otherwise low
It isolated her, being so separate from so many parts of people's lives, even those especially those she was so close to. Moya never saw them naked any more (having sex, relieving themselves, the shower, washing clothes, just being themselves always). There were things she wasn't welcome to (John and Aeryn having sex). They treated her differently because she was bipedal. She wasn't there like before (she knew that, felt that, lack of footsteps in her veins, never feeling Rygel climbing up her nerves, her stomach rumbling but never with Zhaan's singing) [couldn't not know it, felt it every moment of every day]. Cameron stood out worse than her other friends, than Daniel or Charles or Erik or any of them. He looked like John. Not quite (older, see the weight of wars and injury and trials and pain of different natures than John's face) and she couldn't determine how not quite. She had hardly enough information to differentiate them. It embarrassed her how long it took to determine who it was if she saw them on the street. The effect of clothes was easier with knowledge of the base. It wasn't fair. It ate at her, every time she ate food with Cameron.
She didn't know him almost at all. That she expected. The looks made her remember (every moment, every second, what were the lengths of his bones? the shape of his spine? the contours of his muscles? [everyone had been compared to John, was, he was her first human (the face, the face, she'd never forget the face)] (eyes weren't enough)). They didn't mean to hurt her, John or Aeryn or anyone. It did. She didn't talk of it because it made people uncomfortable, even John. She took it. She took pain for them before. D'Argo had encouraged her, to ask. He was Luxan, not human. Still. It encouraged her.
Cameron had said no. That'd been that. They still talked. She wasn't not talking with him (nudity wasn't a condition of friendship). Moya hadn't expected him to ask why again. She hadn't expected to tell him. He said yes! He could change his mind. One floor. Moya picked up the DRD in her room and carried it. Stairs weren't the easiest. DRDs on floors were one thing. On walls. She didn't want to scare people (like Clint Barton, it was her fault really). So she was there, knocking, DRD at her ankles, excited and nervous and wondering if he'd changed his mind in that much time.