Present day. Aeryn beats the hell out of her special punching bag, reliving the videoed moments of the other pilot's death. She smacks so hard, she knocks the bag off its pedestal, leaving it with long bloody smears. Aeryn collapses, her knuckles raw and pulped. She's sobbing in the Child's Pose (man, this episode's all about the yoga tonight, isn't it?) when Crichton finds her and softly notes, "You're making hamburger there." Okay, this isn't good because now I'm hungry. Crichton gently pulls her up, shushing her like an infant, and tries to get her to tell him what happened. Aeryn continues to draw shuddering, sobbing breaths without speaking.
Some time later, the two of them are sitting on the red-triangle-bisecting-a-white-circle-looking-like- the-IDIC-necklace sparring mat. Aeryn notes that she has kept Crichton at a distance. Crichton's noticed. Vast distances. "There's a reason for that," Aeryn tells him. "Just one?" Crichton breathes, "Go ahead." Aeryn explains that Peacekeepers are bred and raised simply for military service. Procreation is "assigned." "There's no such thing as a life-long mate," she adds. "But you have relationships," Crichton prompts, "The male-female kind." Of course -- as often and as many as they want, because the PK High Command understands biological urges and needs. Point is, you never let yourself care for anyone, and Aeryn's PK relationships were..."Empty," Crichton supplies. "Painful," Aeryn corrects. Crichton wonders what this has to do with the Rodney King tape, and when Aeryn doesn't look at him, he realizes she had a fling with Velorek.
Flashback. Aeryn checks corridors before entering a chamber. Velorek looks around at her entry. She takes off her jacket. He grabs at her. It seems rape-ish, but since they're Peacekeepers, it's foreplay. And then they make out.
Present day. "We were lovers," Aeryn admits. Crichton looks at her in forced amused disbelief at her choice of words. "Lovers," he repeats. "Lovers, um, interesting. I don't think I've ever heard you use that word before," he meanders. Aeryn stares at him as he looks away, her dark eyes pleading with him to understand. Pleading with him to still be her champion and protector in the face of the rest of the crew. Crichton hesitatingly asks if she loved him. Aeryn admits, with a stuffed-up nose, that she felt something for him she never felt for any of the other guys she "recreated" with. "Recreated," that's a great word. Gives whole new meaning to the fact that I worked at the Kenwood Rec Center as a teen. Aeryn says she didn't know what it was then but looking back, she guesses it was love. "Right," Crichton says, almost disappointed enough to twiddle with his shoelaces in order to avoid her gaze, "Well, from the way you tell the story, he sounded kinda sadistic." "No," Aeryn corrects him, making Crichton look sharp at her, "He was the opposite. That was the problem." "Officer Sun," Pilot's voice cuts in angrily, "We must talk." They look over at Pilot's projection and see him clasping something in his claws. I think it's a projection device. Hard to tell in all that static. Moya needs rabbit ears. Crichton wonders how he got hold of the Rodney King tape. Aeryn shrugs off the importance of that. All that matters now is talking to Pilot. Crichton states that he'll go with her, but Aeryn turns him down. "It needs to be just him and me," she states.