It's a terrible idea, not that they ever have a good one. Two bodies, one pulley, he'll come down, his weight will bring her up. She'll take her slow-motion look at the enemy as she glides past, so she can tell Crichton exactly what to shoot at when it's his turn.

But even if the ropes hold, even if what she sees in those frozen moments helps Crichton get rid of the invaders, there's a possibility this time that the blindness will last forever.

No more star fields, no more planets, no more of Pilot's gentle smiles. No more green or gold or red, no more soft sky blue like Crichton's eyes.

Sad now, sorry for what he's asking her to risk. Sorry for what he sees, the charcoal bruises on her face, the way she's let her hair grow over her eyes, the residual twitching of her body after all the hours of unthinkable horror it's undergone.

"I can do this," she says. Let him divine the meaning.

"Can you 'do' what might come afterwards?" Ah, the lengthened syllables he uses when his voice turns serious. One of the things she'll notice more clearly if it's true that the rest of her senses will be heightened. "Because we can find another way."

She loves him with all her heart when he's like this. And the irony is that it's his willingness to save her that makes her long to sacrifice herself.

He helps her with the harness, showing her how to make it tight enough to be safe. In trying to get it snug around her, his hands actually meet across her waist.

"Jesus, Chiana," he gasps, running his fingers further up, touching her ribs, grazing the painful broken edges. She flinches and his hands immediately come away. She'll be only too happy to live without the sadness she sees in the infinity of his eyes.

She might never see that blue again, or any other blue.

"When humans go blind, do they remember seeing, or does everything go black, even the memories?"

His fingers weave through her hair, pushing her good cheek against his shoulder, and he caresses the back of her neck. "I've been told they remember. That they still see in their dreams."

She nuzzles against him, tasting the salty flesh of his neck.

Half an arn later they're ready and she can still taste him.

"Chiana, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," Crichton calls down, giving her one last out.

She plays with the harness again. Tries not to wince at the pain. "I said I would, Crichton. Just go."

"Yeah, but if you don't wanna..."

Rygel cuts in. "Oh, for yotz' sake, she gets more blind from drinking Reslac." If it's true, and she'll trade sight for a heightened sense of smellŠwhat Crichton would term a deal-breaker.

Crichton and his frelling plans.

"All right, Pip. Your call."

She looks up at his face one last time. Memorizes.

"Let's fly."