Aeryn's Prowler flies into Moya's hanger bay, where a huge trolley of junk is rolled out. "All the food goes to my chamber," says Rygel, indicating a huge bag of cop porn and some BK. Chiana asks what to do with John's presents: "You wanna put 'em in his quarters?" Aeryn shakes her head: "Not the right time. Cargo bay for now." She pushes the payload forward. D'Argo informs them they're leaving as soon as John gets on board. He lends her a hand with the trolley. The easy rhythms of family. Aeryn pulls Noranti aside, proffering the laka bulb. "What's this?" Oh, fuck say all three of Noranti's eyes.
Noranti looks away, keeps walking. Aeryn follows, protesting that Noranti must have made it. "It's for Crichton," Noranti says noncommittally, and keeps walking. "What does it do?" No response, but Noranti stops. "What does it do?" She finally -- with a "you asked" look -- turns to look at Aeryn. "It's to help him move on. Surmount his feelings and forget." Forget who? Noranti looks at her deeply; her barely open third eye glows blue. She turns and leaves, and Aeryn stands in the middle of nothing, staring at that tiny drug. Thinks about her culpability; puts it away again. Perhaps she pockets it. Perhaps she cries, I don't know. I'm just happy she finally found out.
Olivia holds out an open jeweler's box, holding an elegant diamond band. "I was gonna give you this on Christmas," she says, crying. John takes off his shades and looks at her. "This is Mom's." A tear runs down Olivia's cheek. "She left this to you," he says, but Olivia shakes her head. "I want you to have it. Mom'd love that." He snaps the box shut, a plane flies overhead. They'll do their best to make a home and a family, just the two of them. Olivia will never marry. It's just the two of them. Her voice breaks, just a whisper: "Don't go," and he whispers back, "I have to go." His father's ring was a puzzle: figure it out and you find your way home. But this ring is a puzzle, too. It means home, and it means that home is whatever star you choose to sail by. It started with his father's ring, and a thousand different possibilities; it ends literally with his mother's ring, and all the promises you can guarantee from an ending.
Jack steps over, stops moving as John -- in his long black duster -- embraces his sister. They take a deep breath; another jet flies by. Olivia is crying. John kisses her on the forehead and whispers, "You take care." He touches her cheek; she cries harder, and looks away. John looks down and sniffs, rubbing at his eyes. Jack, his face a portrait of longing, says just one word: "Stay." John shakes his head; he can't even speak. "Look, we'll guard the wormhole. We'll...we'll set up a defense shield. Nothing'll get through." Except SciFi, if you like that show. "No," John says, "I have a job to do." He never even got to tell him about the wormholes; life interfered. He has a job to do. "Your words again," he grins, pointing at his father. "I don't want to lose you, son," says Jack. And his voice is so old, and sad, and small. His breath is ragged. "I can't shake this feeling that you're not comin' back." John promises he'll return; Jack bites his lip. So much worse, this time. Son disappears, you can mourn. But when your child leaves for good, where do you put it? Ask any father ever. "You take care of my home," says John, nearly destroyed. "It's a promise." You can barely hear him. John wraps his arms around his father, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Take care of yourself," he whispers. Jack sniffs, close to breaking, and watches his son walk away, shades on, into the light, and hopes he'll come back. But you and I both know this shit was a cakewalk compared to what will happen then.