Aeryn Sun contemplated the red padding of her workout center for a microt, perhaps two. With a small grin flitting across her features, she reared back and smacked the training dummy hard enough to make it rock. She struck it again and spun around, her ponytail whipping around with her, and kicked it. She jumped up and lashed out again with her leg, striking the dummy on the upper edge. Her daily regimen was designed to do more than keep her skills sharp. It was a release, a sweet, violent explosion of released tension and frustration. She knew it made her easier to live with but, frankly, she found it made the others easier to deal with. She'd lost count the number of times she might have broken limbs among the crew had she not had the workouts to purge some of her natural, inbred aggression. More than that, she just plain liked it. Sometimes, most times she admitted, it felt really good to beat the hell out of something.

Somedays, she assigned the training dummies with names. Aeryn would never admit it to the crew, but in her own fashion, she'd kicked the crap out each one of them more than once. Yesterday, it had been Chiana. Then again, the Nebari's gray visage was one that Aeryn often took into her workouts. Today, why today, it was the ever frustrating and inherently confusing image of John Crichton that drove her on. She chuckled in amusement as she whacked the dummy with the side of her hand and drove her knee into its red form. Crichton would have no end of comment if he knew how she dealt with most of the frustration he caused her. Aeryn punched the dummy with one hand and then the other, alternating so quickly that her hands were a blur. Of course, he should be thankful that she didn't take her aggression out on him. Not that it wouldn't be fun, for her anyway.

She'd contemplated on more than one occasion taking Crichton on as a sparring partner. On the one hand, she reasoned that it would be good for him. He'd improved, gotten quicker and more decisive in his physical assaults. In reality, he was doing just fine on his own. But his technique lacked finesse. It wouldn't hurt for him to brush up on his fighting skills. Then again, she thought as she gleefully kicked the dummy again, he would likely just tell her that it did him more good to exercise his mind. Certainly, it had been his quick thinking that had gotten them out of more than one scrape. The real deterrent to offering to work on Crichton's fighting skills had nothing to do with his likely lack of willingness. She'd probably get him to agree to it now and again. The real problem was Crichton himself and, she was willing to admit, herself as well. When they spent time together outside of crisis situations, everything got, well, weird. Strange in a way that she didn't like to admit she enjoyed. How long would they grapple each other physically before one or both of them was stimulated in a more lusty fashion? Aeryn figured it would be less than a quarter of an arn. What was decidedly annoying was that she still contemplated the notion, knowing the sexual tension that it would create.

It was, she decided, just her luck that Crichton should wander in while she pondered such things. Aeryn took no noticed of him, but continued to strike out at the dummy, her joy in attacking it increasing with the knowledge he was watching and likely disapproving.

"You know, you keep beating the hell out of that and you'll ruin your best toy."

"And here I thought it had been rather efficiently constructed for just this purpose," Aeryn replied as she kicked again. "Or perhaps that's just my, what did you call it this morning? Ah, yes. My flawed Peacekeeper logic."

Crichton cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, I was, uh, coming to apologize for that. Guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the leviathan this morning."

"Don't be absurd, one side of Moya is hardly more right or wrong than the other."

"It's an expression, Aeryn."

"Isn't it always?" she asked. As an after thought, she spun around, grabbed him by the collar of his vest and threw him to the floor. She dropped hard on his chest, pinning him to the mat.

"Christ, Aeryn!"

"What?" she asked in mock innocence. "Am I displaying my usual amount of unthinking violence again? Is this an example of my disturbing natural aggression?"

John lurched up, bringing his lower body up sharply, dislodging her. "Is this how we're going to do this? You try to beat the crap out of me and throw every stupid thing I've ever said to you back in my face?"

"Pardon me, but did you say try?"

Crichton looked at her for a moment and then shrugged out of his vest. He tossed it off of the mat and beckoned her with his finger. "Yeah, I said try. You wanna tackle me? Fine, give me all you've got, Aeryn."

She stood, the corner of her mouth twitching with a small grin. "You sure? Maybe we should get you some padding or protective gear first," she taunted.

"Cute," he replied as he lunged at her. He landed the first blow to her midsection, but Aeryn easily blocked the second. She dropped and lashed out with her leg, meaning to knock his feet out from under him. She was pleased to find that he jumped, foiling her attempt. He was not however, prepared when she grabbed him by the belt as he jumped. She used his own momentum to toss him hard to the mat.

"You're getting better," she said. "You at least anticipate the first move, but never become so cocky that you fail to plan for the second. There is always a second move, Crichton."

"Yeah, I noticed," he replied. He jumped to his feet and rushed at her. As she moved to step out of his path, he grabbed her arm and swung her around, pinning her against the training dummy. Aeryn smiled up at him and stomped down on his foot. When he jerked away, she took the advantage and leapt up, locking her legs around his midsection.

He grinned at first, but it faded as she began to squeeze mercilessly with her thighs. "Crap, Aeryn! Fine, I give!"

"Oh, I don't think so. You have two choices, get out of this or pass out. Either one is acceptable from my standpoint."

He grabbed hold of her arms, trying to dislodge her. "Dammit, Aeryn, I'm not kidding!"

"Neither am I," she said with a smile.

With a grunt her grabbed her head and knocked it soundly with his own. She let out a sound of surprise or displeasure, but did not relent. "You wanna play dirty?" he asked. "I can play dirty."

"Really? Then prove it, Crichton."

"Just remember, you asked for it." He grabbed a lock of her hair again and pulled her close. She steeled herself, preparing for the blow. She let out a yelp of surprise when he pressed his lips roughly against hers. John took advantage of it and yanked her off, tossing her to the mat. He dropped on her and pinned her wrists to the mat with his hands. "Score one for the human," he said breathlessly.

"Yes, that was inventive."

"Inventive? You didn't enjoy it in the least?"

Aeryn's lips twitched into a small smile. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, really? Then what if I repeated that particular maneuver?"

"I suppose you'd just have to try it and see."

"And risk the ass kicking of a life time?"

"Perhaps."

Crichton bit his lip, weighing the possible ramifications. "Well, you only live once. Unless you're Shirley MacLaine."

"Mac who?" Aeryn asked. John silenced her further questions with his mouth. When she responded eagerly, he let out a small moan and released her wrists. For a moment, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as she continued to kiss him back. She then grabbed him roughly by the back of his shirt and flipped him on his back. Aeryn rolled on top of him and stared down at him, smiling. "Crichton?"

"Yeah?"

"Apology accepted," she said and stood up. She chuckled and picked up a towel that she'd left near the mat.

"You're kidding me, right? Please tell me that you're kidding."

"No, I really mean it," she said as she slung the towel over her shoulder. "I accept your apology for your behavior earlier. We are now.even."

John covered his face for a moment, making a piteous face. "Man, that's just.harsh. You can't leave me like this."

"Oh, you'll be fine, Crichton. Feel free to use the mat and the training dummies. I find them excellent tools for working out one's," she smiled wickedly, "tension." She turned and left the area, still smiling. She broke into a laugh as she heard the tell-tale sounds of the dummies enduring more abuse. "And he says I have violent tendencies."