By ixchup
Rating: PG for Angst
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing the characters from Farscape and I'll put them back in their owner's hands safely when I am done.
Spoilers: What Was Lost, Parts I and II
John sat in his usual seat in the Center Chamber, knees bent with his splinted arm resting gingerly on top. He loved the small alcove that wasn't really a seat so much as the ledge for Moya's view port. From his vantage point he could watch the stars as they seemed to flow past his window (although he knew intellectually that this was an illusion of Moya's speed relative to the movement of planetary and stellar bodies). The color shifts reflected off the stellar dust in patterns that reminded him of clouds in Earth's sunsets on a late summer day. He sighed and shifted then shuddered slightly as he accidentally jarred his messed up arm and leg. Yup, reality really frelled up imagination, he thought as he again looked out of the view port, now seeing only gaseous molecules, dirt, and the flotsam and jetsam of ions of time.
He had retreated to this spot knowing that the others wouldn't be coming to the Center Chamber because Noranti was cooking something that smelled like turpentine and sulfuric acid. He really didn't mind the noxious odor this time because it took his mind off the constant pain he was feeling that he didn't want to let on to Aeryn. So, he let his nose numb quickly as he ruminated on the heartlessness of science, the totally inside out nature of life in the UTs, the inevitability of death when he was around, how the blood just keeps flowing (and in Technicolor), and just the shear countless ways he could frell up his friends' and wife's lives. He shook his head and tried to get back to the point of this self-help session: getting his head straight so he could go and relieve Aeryn of the sprout for a bath and night feeding. He really needed to pull himself together. He unconsciously raised his healthy arm and stroked his lips with a slightly shaky thumb. He frankly felt like shit. Here he was, again wounded and hurting and nobody to blame but himself. Mr. "Pin-up Boy of Frontal Assaults" in more ways than one, damn it.
What brought him to his slightly secluded niche this time was a realization that he felt a growing dread about going near his son and Aeryn. Yeah, he did have a tendency to obsess about stuff; and yes, he agreed with Aeryn and Chiana that those two bounty hunters needed to die, but it was the shear magnitude of his anger that terrified him. He not only killed the lizard-king and gumball lady; he pulverized them. Chiana once asked him where he dug up all the dren he attacked her with while "tralt'ixxed". Back then, he said he didn't know; but even then he did. He carried a darkness inside. What if he some day let it out and caused harm to the baby or Aeryn? That was his driving fear. He didn't seem to have any control over life's contingencies and his reactions. Dren happened. He just couldn't figure out how to prevent his actions from backfiring on to those he loved. Man, he was tired.
Gawd, whatever Noranti was fumigating smelled to high heaven. He squeezed his eyes closed and then used his thumb to wipe away the tears that streamed down his cheeks. He had a suspicion Moya was playing tricks, blowing that terrible ordure towards where he sat because it sure was getting more pungent by the minute. He absently moved his broken arm, forgetting its shattered bones, and was rewarded with a sharp spiking pain as if someone had stuck a pig sticker into his shoulder. He yelped as the sweat replaced tears on his face.
"Crichton, what is wrong?" Noranti yelled from her place behind the large copper pot that was boiling over on the cooking surface. "Don't move, I'll be there in a jiffy with something to ease the pain."
"No, none of your dren, now Noranti. I- I'll be fine. I just have to get my breath back and I'll be leaving. Thanks, but no thanks." John used the wall and his free arm to lever himself into a standing, albeit swaying position. "It is time to bathe and feed the little guy anyway."
John quickly limped his way out of the Center Chamber. Nothing settled, and everything in his life at stake.
The mottled copper-colored grill-work on their door was actually warm to John's touch as he leaned his cheek against it. Moya, again, obviously; although why she was seeking to pull John out of his doldrums was beyond John's current comprehension. He sighed as he pushed himself upright and swiped his hand across the locking mechanism. Best to confront his demons and end them rather than flounder, as he seemed to be doing ever since the kidnapping.
John wiped his suddenly sweaty hand against his leathers and stepped into the suite of rooms Moya had carved out of the officer's quarters for the growing Sun-Crichton family. He smiled as he looked at the bed where Aeryn still lay sprawled in sleep. It had been a difficult night where it took arns of walking Moya's corridors to get the young one with the enormous vocal chords to settle down. Poor little guy also was still napping. That sore tummy wore out both guppy and mommy. John felt safe for the moment and settled himself on to the pillow-strewn chair they had scrounged on some commerce planet. He absently rubbed his sore leg. The dressings would have to be changed soon and he hoped that the infection had lessened since the last time his thigh was looked at. It didn't feel better. In fact, it felt slightly hotter and throbbing. Who knows what odd bacteria that komodo dragon was bearing and how it ultimately would frell with his system. Unique is definitely not good in this instance. John frowned as he felt something running down the inside of his leg. "Shit!" he whispered and struggled up out of the chair. He looked at the trail of blood that trickled its way from the door to the chair where he had been sitting. "No wonder it hurts worse right now," he sotto voiced, "it's like Niagara Falls down my leg without a barrel."
Aeryn turned over and opened her eyes then suddenly widened them in surprise as she saw the mess on the floor. "What the frell! Crichton, what have you been doing?" she whispered. "Wait for me to get up and don't move a dench. You need help."
"I'm sorry, babe," he said, "I guess I've been walking on this thing too much. It hurts like a bitch."
Aeryn stood quickly, and striding across the room, roughly pulled John's free arm over her shoulder so that he could take his weight off his bad leg. She shook her head bemusedly at his stubborn insistence on not taking care of himself. He smiled gratefully at her but then looked down sheepishly as he saw her head shake. "You know, I really had been feeling better and wanted to stretch my legs. I wasn't trying to overdo it, but my leg had other ideas." John swallowed a yelp as Aeryn accidentally banged his arm against the door frame on their way out. He wasn't actually sure it wasn't deliberate, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt. Together they slowly made their way down to Zhaan's apothecary after alerting Pilot so that DRDs could be sent to watch the still sleeping D'Argo.
Noranti met them in the converted maintenance bay and clucked and hummed over John's leg. It was definitely severely infected as indicated by its swollen, reddened appearance and continuous weeping of blood and pus. He sighed at the lossof his last pair of pants where they lay cut up on the floor. His thigh had swelled to the point where they had to cut the leathers to get to the wounds. The witch left the couple alone as she puttered in the back of the bay mixing who knows what with mysterious excrements John did not want to know anything about.
"John, we really need to get you to a diagnostician when we reach Hynneria tomorrow." Aeryn stated, frowning at the sweat and tears that John was trying to hide. She grabbed a towel and wiped his forehead until he shook his head and pulled her hand down with gentle squeeze and a whispered, "Enough."
Aeryn nodded and released his hand. Instead of continuing the obviously pointless discussion with her stubborn mate, she climbed up behind him. Grasping his chest with both arms, being careful to avoid his injured arm, she drew him towards her until he was leaning back on her chest. John sighed and relaxed slightly. She kissed the top of his head and then lay her chin upon it.
"No, I do not want one of those nose-breathers working on my extremities, Aeryn. Let Rygel's medical staff do their thing. You would think that the Dominar of 60 billion subjects would have doctors that can heal a scratch and a break." John gripped her arm where it circled his chest and looked down towards his leg out-stretched in front of him. His arm didn't bear thinking about, but it too throbbed and pounded reminding him that the shattered bones probably also took a hit of the alien bacteria and were feeling extreme indigestion.
Noranti returned with her herbs, cutting off their discussion. But the ancient Traskan had excellent hearing. "Crichton, I cannot handle this level of infection. I'm afraid I must concur. You must get help or the wounds could sicken your blood and you could die." She deftly wrapped clean bandages around his thigh after covering the inflamed areas with her medicine. "Hoo-man, I don't know enough about your species to cure this. And, I think you are aware that there are other things hindering your healing." Noranti's third eye glowed magenta as she looked straight into John's eyes. John looked away, unable to take her stare.
As Noranti and John continued their silent communication (John trying to force Noranti away from him with her truths and Noranti struggling to impart to John some of her wisdom to ease his pain), Chiana entered the maintenance bay carrying Little D.
"The narl was crying so I thought I would bring him to ya," she stated as she stopped suddenly in front of the pile of soiled bandages and the blood-soaked towels used to clean John's leg wounds. "Wha- what's going on here? Crichton, that's just not what I would expect of a male's leg, there. Isn't it supposed to be smaller and more solid colored at this point? Why are you being such a fekkik and refusing the doctoring you obviously need?"
John flinched as Chiana tried to pass D'Argo into his free arm. Aeryn pulled away from John and got down from the bed. She tried to hide her surprised stare at her mate and quickly quelled her unhappiness that he still would not take the baby. This had been going on too long since the kidnapping. Once or twice, she could accept, but every time? Something more than pain was bothering him. There just didn't seem to be time to get to it before they reached Hynneria. But she would.
John threw the torn leathers roughly against the back wall of his quarters. He quickly reached for his old tattered khaki cut-offs where they lay in the back shelves and unsteadily pulled them on. "Frelling shorts," he shouted when after a determined few moments struggling with the hook and eye he gave up and decided to just let them lie open. "Damn!" he grumbled loudly to the empty room as he bent to retrieve the ruined clothing. Best to salvage them for little D 'cause the minute he starts walking it is a sure bet he'll be into everything and need some padding between himself and surfaces. "Dren," he muttered more quietly. Last pair and he had finally broken them in to the point where they didn't chafe. Could his life get any more frelled? Standing up reminded him of his other worry, namely the leg that would not heal and the mystery of what was happening to his arm. God, he was exhausted and aching.
John collapsed on to the bed, jerking as his leg and arm touched its not-so-soft surface. He shoved his good arm over his eyes and frowned. He heard the door slide open but didn't bother uncovering his eyes to see who had entered. He couldn't be bothered to smile as he listened to the slobbering sounds of the baby sucking on a fist and the shushing of his wife as she readjusted his weight on to her shoulder. The noise didn't sooth him as it usually did; rather it brought back the round robin of fearful thoughts regarding how dangerous he was to his family. He could feel his chest tightening with the need to scream out all of the vile curses that he threw at the blue bitch as she ran her slobbering lips over his ear and neck. The wet dripping sucking that sounded so much like his little guy—the licks and slurps of lips grasping skin that he could still feel like running sores all down his jaw line. John jumped suddenly backward as he felt Aeryn's weight settle next to him on the bed when her shadow cast a pall over his bare arm when she settled D'Argo next to them on the bed.
"Aeryn," he mumbled. "Um, it's too crowded here. Could you put D'Argo in his cradle?" John silently pleaded with her to do as he asked.
Aeryn cursed under her breath at the stubbornness of her mate. Why didn't he just come out with what was bothering him? Why the subterfuge? "John, D'Argo takes up hardly any room. Just move closer to him so you don't fall off the bed and injure yourself further." She shook her head when he made no move to comply. In fact, he seemed to be frowning even harder.
"I came in here because we have to talk," she said as she took D'Argo back up into her arms and commenced rocking him gently.
"'Bout what?" John slowly uncovered a small portion of his face and looked up at his wife with a shuttered single eye that peaked out. He knew what was coming.
"You can't go on like this," she said.
"What is the "this" that you are referring to, Aeryn? Is it the fact that I think my leg and arm are about to fall off and at this moment I sorta welcome the idea? Or is it that every single mucked up long-tailed, big-toothed, mottled, blue plant is gunning for me? Which one is it, huh?"
"John, it is both, as you well know. I'm worried about you. Nobody expects you to handle everything that my world throws at you all by yourself yet you are determined to do just that. You tell me that I'm not alone; well the same goes for you. Let a diagnostician help you. He can heal your mind as well as your body. We won't be able to figure out a way to combat the bounty hunters if you can't calm down."
John nodded but his facial expression was at odds with the movement. "Yeah, like Sigmund Freud of the Uncharted Territories is supposed to tell me that my anger is all a figment of my over-abused imagination as well as the violence I suffered in a past life?" John slammed his fist down on the bed startling D'Argo from his drowsing. The baby opened his mouth to let out a cry. Aeryn pulled him towards her and rubbed his back, soothing him back to calmness.
"See how easy it could be—just watch D'Argo and you can learn a thing or two. Stop taking on the pain as if it is your fault. It is not, you know." She said as she reached out her arms to hand D'Argo to him.
John suddenly reared up. "No!" he screamed. He felt a rushing in his ears and a quick sensation of fire rising from his feet to his head. The room tilted and swerved around him. "Get the frell away!" He closed his eyes against an imagined glare that only he could see. It was black and yet the clawing, biting nails of her hands reached out for him. He blindly pushed against the clutching fingers but when he opened his eyes he realized that it was Aeryn and the baby that he had forced roughly on to the floor.
"No!" he cried again; this time in anguish. He felt like the room was collapsing in on top of him as he levered himself off the bed. He stood shaking with his legs straddling Aeryn where she cradled the now screaming infant on the floor.
"What was that?" Aeryn shouted as she tried to calm their hysterical son.
"That was me!" John exclaimed. "That's the real me! Get the squirt away, Aeryn. I'm no good for you guys right now. Don't you get it?"
"Yes, I get it totally, John," Aeryn responded quietly. It was the quiet of a volcano about to erupt and the calm of a soldier on a mission. John looked both aghast and red-faced and struggling for control as she pushed herself up off the floor. "I'll be back and when I am, we are talking about this outburst."
John watched her go, still shuddering with the vestiges of his rage as well as the fear that what he really wanted to do before she left was rip something into small pieces, preferably something that fought back. He tried to bottle up the feeling that continued to wash over him, and turned and slammed his healthy fist into the door grate, shattering his knuckles until the blood ran down his palm and wrist.
"God damnit to all hell!" John shouted as he dropped to his knees, ignoring the sudden rush of pain from his wounded leg and the echoing surge riding up from his bruised knuckles. "What is happening to me? They'd better lock me up 'cause I'm such bad news. I can't believe I did that. I actually pushed my child and wife. God help me." He had to pull himself together. Why couldn't he get it back together? It had been a week since those sorry excuses out of some Land Of The Lost Show had grabbed him. It wasn't the first time, why did this one bother him so much? For the sake of his family he had to suck up the grief and anger, yes; That was it; think of Little D and Aeryn, of Chiana, and even Noranti who need you. Shake it off, John. He shook his head as if the physical motion would clear away the rage at fate that was clouding his thoughts and obviously bleeding into his muscles. If he could have just a few moments of peace. That was all he needed, the peace of home and family. But when did he ever get what he wanted?
He leaned over and back, rocking away his grief with eyes closed to hold back the tears. What would his dad say if he learned what had just happened? Abuser. He would call him a child abuser and murderer. Probably lock him up. And he deserved it, too. That's what it was, abuse. He was an abuser. He'd become a sociopath. Son of Sam had nothing on him. Good thing Dad wasn't here to see this. There was no excuse, none, for what he had just done.
Aeryn stood at the door to their living quarters watching her husband where he sat rocking on the floor. John was oblivious in his pain and grief. Aeryn's heart went out to this complicated man whom she loved, even with his follies. Who was she to judge his demons when she had so many of her own? They just had to figure out a way to heal together.
John looked up blurrily from his place on the floor. "Aeryn, is the squirt okay? Are you okay?"
"We're fine, John," she stated simply as she stepped into the room. "What just happened? It seemed like you didn't even know we were in the room with you much less sitting on the bed?"
"Do you ever wonder about what made Zhaan special?" John whispered, looking down at his mangled hand.
Aeryn sat down next to him after grabbing the medicine box they kept in the room for just these types of situations. She gently took his hand and proceeded to clean the cuts to give herself time. As usual, John was going to take the long road both figuratively and verbally to get where he was going. She had a strong clue what was causing his violent outbursts, but she had to be patient and see if he would come to the same conclusions. She deftly wrapped his hand and only said, "Hmmmm?"
"I, do," John continued gruffly. "Taleen and her wacked-out philosophy almost converted Zhaan into a permanent Viseen candidate-anger sure does bring the red out. What was it Zhaan said back then? Oh yeah, if you don't channel the anger and compartmentalize it it will drive you insane. Zhaan beat it with a little help. Yup, our Zhaanie could swallow Maldis and Taleen, and even her own crimes and come out somehow clean. That sort of inner strength is what I miss most. I wish I had that ability right now… to turn away from the darkness. To be whole again." John raised Aeryn's hands to his lips with his bandaged on and kissed each knuckle. "For luck."
She looked at his bowed shoulders and took his face between her hands, "John, what is bothering you, really? What else happened during the kidnapping? You've killed before without having such a terrible reaction. There is something you are not saying. Let me help."
John shivered although the room wasn't cold. She had gotten to the crux of the matter in her typical direct fashion. "Delvians have this fourth sensation, you know?"
Aeryn pursed her lips together in impatience, although she knew that John had to get around to things in his own strange fashion. He would eventually get to the point or she would pin him to it. "Yes, and?"
"Well, um, that weird-assed Delvian who was part of the kidnapping duo, she, she obviously had forgotten all about that." John licked his lips and looked at Aeryn pleading with her to help him say what he needed to say. "That chick had the reddest eyes. They burned in the dark. They were all I could see but her hands, her frelling claws, those I felt along with her teeth in the dark, Aeryn. They were everywhere. Tearing, biting, scratching where the sun don't shine, if you get what I mean. And I, I couldn't see. And, there she was, everywhere."
Aeryn's eyes grew wide as she realized what John was trying to tell her. This man, who had endured so many mental invasions and physical indignities; who always seemed to bounce back from the worst the Uncharted Territories could throw his way; had been almost raped by a being from a species who he trusted implicitly. Oh Cholok, no wonder John was hurting.
She nodded encouragement at him as she whispered, "John, that was rape. How could you fight such a foe when she had all the advantages? And yet, as usual, you figured out a way. I guess you used Plan B, as you always do." Aeryn smiled at him and he tentatively responded with a small, sideways smile back. "Nobody can stand up to Plan B. She obviously didn't couldn't. You triumphed. She's dead and you are still here and still my impossible human. She didn't take that away from you.
"Yeah, such a triumph. I get the dren beaten out of me by a woman. Aeryn, she was so close. So close. And there is blood on my hands. Blood in my eyes. So red. Everything was red."
He could feel the heat rising in his face and he closed his eyes, remembering the streaks of pain in between the battering as the bitch sought to have her way. "No, you don't get my heart either! If the fish lady couldn't win my heart with her gunk on the ball, her Gaylord Perry trick, you won't either, you freak!" he screamed as he swung his fist.
Aeryn saw the wild swing of John's arm and ducked under the violent punch. "Frell, John! Come back. The fekkik Delvian is dead. She can't hurt you any more. Wake up!"
"My life is a movie. Ought to be filmed by Sergio Leone." John mumbled. He grabbed Aeryn and pulled her in tight. "Aeryn, I don't think I have what it takes to swallow the anger this time. I'm not Zhaan."
Aeryn was still in shock from John's words. And yet, they were exactly what she was expecting. There were always soldiers who tip over into perpetual combat. They strike out against foe and comrade alike because they can no longer compartmentalize the violence. These are usual people who should have been culled from the ranks early on because they felt too much. They couldn't shelve their emotions and just Be. She had seen that closely. John felt everything. And he wasn't a soldier. Wasn't bred for battle. Cholok knew where he got the strength to keep going. So, what could she do? She definitely couldn't use the Peacekeeper solution. She smiled bitterly. Honorable discharge? No, she had to figure out the key. What could she give him to make him see the strength in inside and the honor that was his core?
John continued to hold her tightly, almost too tightly as if he could meld her into himself. Even single-armed, he could pull her so close and she welcomed his warmth and solidity. She had been so scared. He had been so mangled and destroyed physically. And yet, here he was again, worrying and living. The love and trust was still there, the basic strength of him. That's what he was. But how could she show him? How could she convince him that the anger was a tool, a survival tool.
"I killed them, Aeryn. Smaug had me by the leg as if I was some sort of brontosaurus appetizer. Dino had it coming. But when does it end, Aeryn? There has to be an end." He shivered again in her arms and pulled her even tighter, if that was possible.
And there was more of a mystery to solve here. Obviously more had happened in John's recent past than a thwarted kidnapping and attempted rape. What had he said, she pondered? A memory out of Delos tickled but then faded away before she could grasp it. "John, have ever given a thought to why you needed to learn defensive skills? You were so innocent in your white clothes when we first met. You were such a target back then. We decided that if there was any way at all that you could learn (and we weren't sure that such a defective barbarian such as you could learn) then we would teach you how to survive here. You learned well. You surprised me. Still do. But somehow, Zhaan was right, you never truly have lost your innocence. What you did was right. When an enemy captures you it is your duty to escape and even more, to destroy them in the process. This is war, John. You did what you had to do.
"A soldier does what he has to do to survive and defeat his enemy. John, you survived and came back to us. I still don't understand why you have been avoiding the baby. You did nothing wrong. There is no shame in killing someone who is trying to kill you. I taught you that. You learned it well."
"Aeryn, how can I hold and care for our innocent with such anger in me that I feel like I am burning up. Every time I look at D'Argo I see my guilt. I have so much blood on my hands. They will never be clean enough for him. And now, I can add physical abuse to my resume. Yeah, astronaut, wormhole terrorist, and child abuser. That's me in a nutshell. The best I can do for you both is to keep away. I'm so afraid, Aeryn. There, I've said it. I'm terrified of what I can do with these hands."
Aeryn wrapped her arms tightly around John's bruised and abraded back—the back that withstood assaults from his enemies but couldn't withstand the attacks from himself. "Oh you silly human. D'Argo will love you for yourself, the man who thinks too much. He won't see the scars because you hide them so well. As we all do. What do you say again? Oh yes, we muddle along. Parenthood has no field manual. I need your strength, John. D'Argo needs you as his father. Who else could teach him how to survive with hope?"
John shook his head at her military metaphors. His soldier and wife didn't understand. He knew, deep inside. Stark knew. John swallowed the bitter bile that rose up and almost gagged him. He had taken in the evil, the darkness of his enemies. What had he said about Durka years ago? Oh yeah, it's tough to get the red out. He was full of blood and it was choking him to death. Aeryn with her strategies and single-minded outlook couldn't see the real John Crichton. He was an unfit father for his son. And, oh God, he wasn't even sure he was a fit husband for his wife. He swallowed the thought along with the burning reflux and closed his blood-shot eyes.
"You are very wise. How did you get so wise/" John whispered into her hair.
"I had a good teacher," she whispered back as she gently turned his chin towards her face and kissed him deeply. He couldn't help but respond in kind. His shoulders lost some of their tautness and he felt exhausted down to his bones. But was there a glimmer of peace in her love? Yes, he could see it now.
Aeryn rubbed his back and spoke softly, "But, I think for the safety of our son, you must keep away until you get help."
Hynneria, the planet of little people. No, that didn't sound quite accurate. Slugo's Planet. Yeah, planet of billions of Rygels. John shuddered at the thought of billions of farting, slurping, grasping, amphibians in purple robes or feathered boas. In the hours since his conversation with Aeryn, his fever had spiked and his energy levels dropped so low that he could barely move from the cot where he lay. They were circling that green swampy, murky world where mud ruled. No, Rygel now ruled, from what Pilot told them. Bishan was no more and the Dominar had managed to cowl or banish Bishan's courtiers and followers. Damn, that boy moved fast. John shivered and sweated and waited for someone to come and help him up off the bed. Frell, he hated feeling helpless. Contemplating little green men (wouldn't Mulder have a field day with this), working on his body turned his stomach. But what was he to do? He'd promised Aeryn that he would let the medics solve the problem of the aggressive bacteria that seemed to be invading his body like a plague. He closed his eyes and pondered.
Why had he reacted so violently to the blood when he killed the Delvian pirate? He had killed with his hands before and never had such a gut reaction. Was it the shock of his injuries? Was it seeing the white sap run out of her broken head from his blow? Her face had the same beautiful chlorophyll markings and stomata markings as his beloved Zhaan's face. The scars marred its surface but underneath, she was a Delvian. Was that it? Or was it a deeper injury?
Aeryn's teachings had instilled in him the brutal need to separate oneself during battle from the violence. That training had paid off during the War when he had killed so many with only a knife, a pulse rifle and his bare hands. Why had this death cause him so much grief? He knew the answer but shied away. No, face it, John. Noranti and Zhaan taught you to face your fears. What is the truth? John felt the sweat flow down his body and pool beneath his hips. It was a cold sweat and totally unpleasant. He closed his eyes and frowned but admitted that he had touched that dark place during the killing. What he had felt was personal rage towards Bluebeard. He could feel it now. Red, towering anger that had added strength to the killing blow. Her face pulped under his gun butt with a satisfying splat until the white sticky sap, her life's blood, ran down her neck and covered his hand. And he felt joy. And he had smiled for a moment just after the killing with the same sick smile that he had felt during the unrealized reality Einstein had shown him—the one where he had become a Peacekeeper. He had felt that same twisted pride at a job well done. He could be judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one.
Yes, he had felt sick to his stomach at that sociopath hiding under his skin. He still felt slimy, but his feeling of mission success hadn't gone away. He still felt it lying in wait for the next time a bad guy crosses his path who wants to mess with him or his family. Face it John, that is the reason, that you recoil from D'Argo. How can you be a moral compass to a child when deep inside you no longer have one? Was he that far gone? Obviously the answer was, yes. He was the despicable man he saw on the Carrier. But wasn't he also standing outside looking and feeling a deep grief at the loss of his soul? Didn't that count for anything? He hoped it did. He had read a book once about how disassociation works. Or was that dislocation? He definitely had a bad case. He was frelled either way. John sighed and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his bandaged hand.
He could barely open his eyes as he felt the jostling movement that accompanied the hallucination (or was it?) of at least a dozen little green hands poking into his sides, shoulders, and worst of all, legs. He let out a weak moan but nobody seemed to notice. It certainly was a weird dream, if dreams entailed awful smells and pain. He was just deciding what to say to try and end the torture when he heard heaven again.
"John, we're moving you off the transport pod now. We're going to the medical center where Rygel has arranged his personal diagnostician to take care of you. You are going to be alright." Aeryn's voice cut through the agony and bathed his dark dreams. But he found he didn't have the energy to reply. So he carefully lifted his thumb and sought to make a fist.
Next time he woke it was because a sharp spear had obviously bisected his shoulder. He screamed and tried to grab it and pull it out, but found his good arm was held immobile. "Wha, wha the frell?" he tried to yell but his mouth was dry as sawdust. The little green slug in the troll doll doctor's outfit was leaning over him with large limpid eyes. But where was its hair? I bet it doesn't have a jewel in its belly, he thought dizzily.
"Do you know where you are, Commander?" it asked.
"Sure," he slurred but then realized he had absolutely no clue.
"You are on Hynneria and we have some good news and some bad news for you," the medic continued as if he hadn't responded.
Aeryn placed her hand on his good shoulder. "John, stay with us now," she whispered close to his ear as she brushed her hand over his hair.
"We had to re-break the arm because the infection had invaded the bone causing it to grow back in pieces . Your arm would have been useless. The good news is that we were able to use our advanced Hynnerian technology and ensure that it will heal back properly to full usefulness."
Oh great, a guy with itty-bitty arms and legs was fixing me up. Why were doctors always so didactic, John thought as he tried to nod that he understood. He frowned and sucked avidly at the straw that another pair of green hands held close to his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried to respond more strongly. "Thanks," he replied scratchily. "And now, Doc, what is the bad news?"
Aeryn squeezed his shoulder indicating that he should hold on tight. He tiped his head and touched her hand in acknowledgement. He knew he didn't need the warning. He had no hope that fate was done with him. His life was weird that way and getting more tangled up in knots by the day, so nothing could surprise him anymore. He said nothing and just waited for the little troll doc to lay it on him.
"The infection in your system is raging out of control. We have cut the inflammation in your leg and inserted drains, but we cannot keep up with its mutations. You are not going to get better any time soon, but you are holding steady. We are at a complete loss. Because you are unique, and a totally alien species we do not have the antibiotics. We are most sorry."
"Story of my life," John said very calmly as he closed his eyes. The pain was receding from his arm and he felt a lethargy that was difficult to fight. He let it waft him away where hairless trolls didn't practice medicine and lizard infections didn't attack.
He sat in the sunshine on more pillows than he thought were in the universe. What passed for birds were chirping and he had to admit that Rygel had great taste in landscaping. The paths amidst the flowering trees and grasses were soothing. The murmuring brooks and waterfalls flowed past his patio. This invalid crap was getting old quickly. Chiana, sitting on the grass-like stuff by his lawn chair, had been chattering on about something or other to do with palace gossip. She was trying so hard to keep his spirits up, and he knew he needed to respond because that would boost her fragile composure as well but he just didn't have the energy or interest to rise to the occasion. "Pip, did ya ever get the feeling that somebody up there likes to frell with us mere mortals?" he asked as he brushed her straw-like hair with his hand.
"Nah, old man, it just seems like that. I'm not sure there is anyone out there who cares enough," she responded, happy to finally drop the cheerfulness she was feigning. She should know by now that John could see right through her ploys.
"How you doin', little girl? For real, now." John asked quietly.
"I- I miss him," she whispered. "It hurts in here," she said pointing to her heart. "I keep hearing him tell me we'll see each other on the other side." She looked down at her hands. "John, do you believe there is such a place?"
"Obviously, he did, Chiana; and that is what matters." John wanted so much to comfort his friend, but he was fresh out of news about heaven and hell. He knew where he was going, but how could he tell her about beliefs he no longer felt? "Pip, I was brought up to believe that good people go to a place that is full of light and happiness. I know D'Argo is there waiting for you. But in the mean time, you are young and he wouldn't want you in such pain. Live for him, okay?"
She nodded and wiped her eyes and tentatively smiled. "What about you? You still scared of yourself, old man? You know you are your own worst enemy. You once told me that we never get what we want. You have had to do many things that you weren't expecting to do in your life. You and me, we're kind of the same, there. Take it from me, just go with the flow. Accept that you killed and will kill again. It is what life is like out here. I want you around. I- I need you around. You gotta stop nozzle gaping 'cause it's no good for you."
"That's "navel gazing", Pip, and you gotta stop listening to those children's books we brought back from Earth." John sighed as he said the words, trying hard to believe that there was still good in him. He felt like shit physically and mentally. "Yeah, Pip, you and me, we're a pair, aren't we? Be good to yourself and I promise I'll try to be good to myself. But it's hard, you know?" He closed his eyes.
Chiana noticed the sweat beading on her friend's forehead. The fever was rising again. She felt the shivers in his hand where it lay on her head. He had fallen asleep, but it must not be a soothing sleep from his head rolling and frowns. She ran for help.
They had John ensconced in the sick bay hooked to blood and other body monitors. There were nutrition and hydration tubes as well as antibiotic tubes running from his arms. They had induced a medical coma to ensure his comfort as they fought to keep him alive. Aeryn held her hand to her mouth and sighed as she looked at the bed where he lay shaking his head back and forth. He was in the throes of another nightmare. Why he called out Commandant Mel-on Grayza's name was another piece of the puzzle. She knew that John hated Grayza. He had made that quite clear on Katratzi and later during his deployment of the wormhole weapon. There were awful rumors floating for years about the female officer. They said she was a disruptor who was so bad at her job that she had had the Delos Concubine gland implanted. Aeryn suddenly stood straight up from her chair. "Frell!" she cursed out loud, startling the technicians hovering around John's bedside. "Sorry," Aeryn stated. She turned sharply and quickly exited the room. There were only two people who could answer a suddenly urgent question.
Rygel felt the gorge rise up in all three of his stomachs. He could face down his cousin, stick Durka on a pole, and even torture a Charrid; but square off against an enraged ex-Peacekeeper! He looked Aeryn straight in the eyes and willed her to do her worst. There he was, pinned by two strong arms and he knew exactly what she wanted.
"Aeryn, he was miserable, delusional, drunk, and dangerous," Rygel needed time to formulate a plan. Should he tell Aeryn the truth or keep Crichton's confidence? Plainly, what was best for this Dominar to do after all the years of that probacto astronaut's gruff sympathy was to tell her straight on what happened on Arnessk. But it was so hard to be straightforward. He continued, "When we found him on that dying leviathan he was almost dead himself. He had so little and it showed in his eyes. All he wanted was you and wormholes. But you were gone."
Aeryn frowned and let up slightly on the Dominar's chest. "I would have returned sooner but there were things to take care of. I- I needed that time away to figure things out. I never intended to return. But what I thought would be a new life was the same dren as my old life. I haven't told John any of this. Rygel, by the time I figured out what I wanted, I was in too deep and they wouldn't let me leave. If it weren't for the Holkathian assassination plot, I would never have been able to return to where I truly was meant to be—by John's side. Our lives are full of ironies, Rygel. What brought me home to Moya resulted in John loosing his only safe haven," she stated quietly as she finally released him.
"Tell me about it," Rygel muttered as he waddled over and climbed into his throne-sled. He guided upwards until he again was looking Aeryn straight in the eyes. He took his time adjusting his royal robes. She had threatened murder and mayhem to his servants and sycophants and the room was empty. He sort of liked it that way, since there was no need for his subjects to know about his recent ignoble past. "Elack was a brave beast and his pilot a wise old one. They kept Crichton alive to reach Arnessk." He paused to take a chew of his stash of sweetmeats and drink from a flask he always had secreted upon his throne. He sighed and continued. "We had joined Crichton after our own bad times, Chiana and me, and we were not up to babysitting your moonstruck, half-insane lover. Having Sikozou, that red-headed hezmot of a bioloid, around didn't help matters (although in the end she did pull her weight). Do you really want to know all that happened there?"
Aeryn nodded, "I need to know, and Rygel, no lying. It is John's life that is at stake here."
"Alright," he stated, knowing that it was again up to his royal self to save the day and again they probably wouldn't acknowledge his great sacrifice of nobility or even his participation. So he continued quietly, "Aeryn, you missed a lot and yet I am glad you were not there. We met up with Jool and D'Argo on Arnessk. D'Argo had figured out more about flying and using the weapons of his farbot ship. Crichton only wanted to know about the wormhole that had swallowed up Moya thus leaving him to die in his frelling module. The old woman only wanted Cholok-knows what (who could understand her anyway?) so we ignored her comings and goings. There was an Interon archeological dig going on and D'Argo and Jool were participating (in more ways than one). Things were going pretty much par for the course for us, namely totally farbot. And then it got bad because not soon after Jool showed Crichton and Chiana (although Chiana really was not in the mood for archeology at all) around the fekkik dig, Peacekeepers came lead by Commandant Mel-on Grayza, who you may remember as the slegnot officer who captured us on the Command Carrier. She had Scorpius on a leash! That brown-nosing, two-timing, heroic Captain Braca controlled him somehow. Chiana told me that she leaned down and stroked Crichton's face and he was all over her; totally nally-whipped. We didn't know at the time what she had done or why Crichton acted the way he did. I was not there, but the girls were very explicit." Rygel drank again from his flask and then wonder-of-wonders, offered it up to Aeryn who took it absentmindedly and swallowed what it contained. She sputtered and drank more deeply. Hynnerian brandy was just what she needed at the moment, not that she would tell Rygel that. He was very surprising and had mellowed so much she barely recognized him.
"Thanks, Rygel. I didn't know you had it in you to be so generous," she stated. Inside she was trembling with rage. Oh she would so like to kill that tralk of a Commandant, and yet the tactical side, the side that planned and schemed, understood why Grayza used her gland on John. Obviously, Grayza didn't understand Crichton's motivations any better than Scorpius did. But her new mindset, the one taught to her by both John Crichtons, prevailed and she balled her fists impotently and prepared to hear the rest of Rygel's story. "Go on, I'm listening."
"We learned later from D'Argo that Grayza had 'interrogated' Crichton down at the beach using Heppel Oil. That old woman, the Traskan, who Crichton rescued from the Carrier, admitted later (during her treatment of my case of Hynnerian Dermafolica that she had caused) that she was dosing the Commander trying to educate him about the Eidolons and their peaceful ways. She saw the results of Grayza's treatment on his spirit and at the time feared for his sanity. But the crazy Traskan added to his troubles by drugging him and causing him to leap off a cliff to his certain death on the rocks below. Crichton has never had any luck with women," Rygel paused and gagged as a result of a sudden constriction of his throat. Aeryn's hand was very strong, but she loosened her grip enough for Rygel to catch his breath.
"You will tell me this story without editorializing," she whispered. Oh, if only she had known of the rape and drugs. Obviously, John's pain ran deep and she was just as guilty of adding more emotional dren. She swallowed and fought down her grief at what a shambles fate and her decisions had made on their lives. None of her thoughts showed on her face as she confronted Rygel.
The Hynnerian nodded and continued more quietly. "Aeryn, you are definitely not going to like this part of the tale," he paused and looked at his companion who just blinked at him and squared her shoulders. "Alright, on with it, then. There was a native of Arnnesk, a sea creature who Crichton called 'The Creature From The Black Lagoon', whatever that meant. This creature saved Crichton and brought him to an alcove where D'Argo and Sikozou discovered the Heppel Oil use and hatched one of their farbot plans. Aeryn, John agreed to go back to Grayza for more of her treatment so as to distract her from the rescue mission we planned. She had him for many arns and yet somehow he managed to escape, leaving her tied up in her own sick love nest. I learned of the lakka and his bravery from Chiana only after you and Crichton had been crystallized. Aeryn, it was our fault that Crichton was forced to endure the Heppel treatment over and over again. We betrayed his trust, and I'm very sorry. He was understandably very quiet on our way back to Moya."
Aeryn felt a pain similar to that endured after the death of the John on Talyn. She fought back the tears for what John Crichton had faced and obviously not conquered. She swallowed suddenly and gasped, "Frell! And then I brought Scorpius on board." The puzzle pieces now formed a complete picture and it wasn't pretty. John Crichton had always been paranoid, but never against members of his family. It suddenly made complete sense, all the terrible monens of his ignoring her and pushing her away; all the talk about coming back when she got her story straight; all the terrible stress he placed on himself; and most of all, his almost suicidal obsession with wormholes and saving her, his family on Moya, and the galaxy from both the Peacekeepers and Scarrens; all caused by her ultimate betrayal of John's trust. Her poor mate had never had the time to heal. And here we are.
Rygel looked at Aeryn and silently acknowledged their dual complicity in John Crichton's mental and physical illness. She asked quietly after reaching out and stroking Rygel's hand, "So, what can we do now? Is there anybody on Hynneria who can heal him?"
Rygel dipped his head regally and acknowledged both Aeryn's quiet apology and his role as ruler of over 60 billion subjects to find someone who could help. "I'll give the order right away. We'll find somebody, Aeryn."
John sat quietly on the medical bed with his bad leg propped up on pillows. He had barely reacted when he had first awakened and discovered that another week of his life was somehow gone. He was down to bare bones existence. Nothing fazed him. He was numb. He could look on D'Argo and merely see baby and not his son. It was as it should be. In his way of thinking, he was a goner and the sooner Aeryn figured that out and moved on, the better it would be. It was the only gift he could give her. He sat absentmindedly squeezing the soft ball they had given him to strengthen his newly healed arm. For some reason the pressure on his biceps felt good and he didn't wonder that he could fee physically and be so lacking in emotional feeling. He closed his eyes and felt the bone-deep exhaustion and newly rising feverish feeling fill his head. He was definitely in for it again.
Aeryn stood holding the sleeping baby and watched John sitting on the bed squeezing a ball in the hand on his newly mended arm. He looked like dren. He was down to skin and bones, being unable to keep any type of food in his system for long. They were feeding him intravenously (a barbaric method that the Hynerians felt was the best way to get nutrients and liquids into him given his bacterial load). His cheeks were flushed with a new fever he wasn't telling anyone about and the pain lines around his eyes and mouth had returned. They had to find a solution soon.
John smiled wanly at his wife as she approached with the baby. He made no effort to reach for or interact with his son. At least he didn't flinch away any more, Aeryn thought. Although, in her mind, this non-reaction to the proximity of D'Argo wasn't any better than the earlier more physical reaction. Aeryn smiled back and switched D'Argo to her shoulder. "He sleeps like a vorgasian slogga," she said.
"Whatever that is," John said without his usual smile at her assumption that he understood her references (and his knowledge that she made a small joke of it). "So, what brings you around?"
Aeryn looked at John and realized that he was leaving her even as he still sat there. Frontal assault was always the best way to approach immovable objects. She swallowed her sadness and fear for him and began her attack. "There is a puzzle that I have been trying to solve and I think you hold the final piece. I have been struggling with its solution while you slept but I find that I cannot solve it without your assistance. Will you forget your own problems for a moment and help me?"
John looked at his wife and raised his eyebrow but said nothing. This infuriating man was bound and determined to make healing him as difficult as possible. Aeryn felt her frustration and sadness jelling into righteous anger. That was good because anger could be honed into a sharp tool. "John, I want to know why you never told me the full reason why you avoided me all those monens. I need to know the true reason why you cheated with that despicable drug of Noranti's. Do not lie to me!"
John's mouth dropped open with shock. He never expected this after all they had been through since the Talika incident. It didn't matter now because nothing did, so he might as well explain. She wouldn't understand, but he could get it off his chest. He didn't look at her—couldn't bear to look at his lovely soldier. He was so weak and such a sorry specimen of manhood. Other men would have killed themselves after what he had been through, but he couldn't stand the idea of leaving her again.
He sighed, "Alright, you want to know why I took that stuff of Noranti's? Because I didn't want to feel anymore. Between you, Scorpy, and other things that had happened, the only thing left to feel was pain. Hell, half the time I thought I was having a heart attack and the other half of the time all I felt was, was, I don't know what. My life was one big anxiety attack. I was the poster boy for Xanax. Heck, living on Moya was a Prozac nation. Then I went home and it got worse. Losing D.K. and even Laura hurt like a bitch and there was nobody I could talk to about it. You guys wouldn't understand. That guy was like a brother to me and I had always treated him badly. Another notch in my belt, that's all he was while I was growing up. I never could tell him how important he was to me. And now I never can. I screwed up our friendship by taking him for granted and he knew it. And then Spikey went and destroyed my Dad's house to get to me. That just capped a wonderful vacation. It put the dot on the eye that I was trouble for my home planet. It was then that I finally got it through my thick skull that I ruin everything I touch, Aeryn. And then there was you. You were the only clean pure thing in my life. And I felt like you had damned me to hell. So I took that dren to forget." John panted with his long speech. He was surprised by the welling up of something, a deep sorrow, so strong that he couldn't continue. He closed his eyes and tried to hold himself together. He would not allow himself to feel. He wouldn't ruin her life again. The best thing he could do is die so that she wouldn't be burdened with bounty hunters and other folks looking to play Wild Bill Hickcock with him.
Aeryn sat quietly murmuring sweet nothings to the infant in her arms. She had expected John to have built up a litany of complaints but had never expected the outpouring of self-hatred. He had no idea how he affected people for the good. He brought hope to a disparate band of escaped prisoners. He taught a young Nebari how to grow up into a beautiful woman. He had saved not only the galaxy from itself, but he did it without bragging or posturing. John Crichton was admittedly flawed, but oh what a glorious man he was. And oh had badly he had been treated by her side of the universe. But how could she get him to understand what a treasure he was when he still wouldn't admit to the affects of the deepest wound. She reached out with their son but John turned away. She frowned and called on her comms for Chiana to come and take the baby for awhile. What she had to say was difficult enough without worrying about the safety of their child.
John watched passively as Chiana carried D'Argo out of the medical facility. He hadn't said a word to the Nebari as she gently lifted the now sleeping baby from Aeryn's arms. Aeryn was totally convinced that John was willing himself to die. Her strength had never been words, that was John's forte; but what other weapon did she have left in her arsenal? The human was the most stubborn creature she had ever encountered and he was taking this self-pity thing way too far, and yet the rational part of her could see his point, that if he figured out that he no longer felt anything and could kill without remorse, what kind of father or husband could he be? She would not let John get away with that delusion. But she did have a secret weapon, and it was time to use it.
She pulled her chair up next to John's bed and took his hand. She always loved his hands for their strength, elegance, and hidden gentleness. His hand had always fit perfectly with his thumb rubbing her jaw line and his fingers playing with the hair behind her ears. Had Grayza even realized that John was so tactile? She was about to find out. She absently rubbed her thumb on his knuckles that were so battered and bruised. He never once grasped her back or looked at her. He was "zoning," as he put it, and it freaked her out.
"You have told me how you feel and why you took that fekkik drug, but I don't think you have told me the entire reason. Since you no longer care about yourself, I want you to look at me because I need to understand what makes a man like you go from never backing down in the face of adversity to quitting. You need to tell me that. For the sake of our marriage, because I'm truly doubting that you love me beyond hope."
John finally looked at Aeryn where she sat on the chair, with her hair falling over her face, hiding her 'puss-in-boots' eyes (as he secretly thought of them after watching that silly cartoon that Aeryn loved for the umteenth). She had the most gloriously expressive eyes. He sighed. "There is nothing else to say, Aeryn. I think I've finally reached beyond hope and found death."
Aeryn's voice trembled, "I have been thinking of what you said about the attempted rape and how much you enjoyed killing the Delvian pirate. I want you to listen to me because I have seen death and I have been death. I have closed myself off to emotions because that is the only way to survive as a Peacekeeper. You have not killed your emotions, John Crichton. You don't know what it really feels like to revel in thrusting a knife in the belly of an enemy and feel nothing as the blood flows over your hand. What you did was justice, not vengeance. What you thought was enjoyment was satisfaction that one more evil has been removed from our lives." Aeryn paused and frowned as something profound occurred to her. "I have another question for you. Why did you panic so badly when the Delvian attacked you? That is not like you at all."
John was playing with the golden thermal sheet, squeezing it into bunches and pulling the resulting mess through his closed fist. He appeared fascinated with the patterns of wrinkles and didn't answer. Aeryn was patient because she knew him so well. She was sure that he was turning over what she had just said, but would he recognize what lay beneath his self hatred?
"When I was young, we had a cat. Remember I showed you his picture when we were at my Dad's house? His name was Mr. Jingles. Mr. Jingles liked to capture a mouse and bring it into the house and let it go, then corner the poor creature. He would play with that mouse, catching it and wounding it with his sharp claws, then letting it escape. By the time the critter was exhausted and bleeding and near death, the cat would pick it up and deposit it in front of my sister as a present. The mouse never stood a chance. I always felt bad for that rodent and hoped there would be a day when Jerry would come to the rescue. But it never happened. You know what, Aeryn. I'm tired of being the mouse
John stopped his fidgeting and placed his hand flat on the bed covering. He shifted his body and Aeryn was once again reminded of how sick he actually was when his face broke out in a sweat at a sudden pain. He never said a word, but merely compressed his lips until he found a more comfortable position. He continued, "That blue witch played with me as if I was a mouse. It was happening again. I don't know why I attract all these nutjobs." He clutched the covering and squeezed as if doing so would somehow force out a poison. Aeryn stared intently at this motion as John continued without noticing. "All I know is I didn't want that demented Delvian anywhere near me and she just wouldn't let me be. She toyed with me and kept up the beating until there was almost nothing left but darkness and pain. Aeryn, I- I have lost everything else to bad guys, and she...she would have stripped me of my last shred of decency and then what would I have left for you?"
Aeryn looked John straight in the eyes and pounced. "What do you mean by 'it was happening again'?
"Nothin'. Slip of the tongue," he muttered, "forget about it."
"No, I think it has happened before. Tell me about it, John. Please. I think this is important. Who did this to you before?" She squeezed his free hand and shivered.
He could feel her intensity through that hand and compulsively finally squeezed back. Somehow she knew. He didn't know how, although he figured somebody 'fessed up. It didn't matter. Oh God, how could she love damaged goods? He was so frelled. The numbness was gone and he shuddered with the sudden onslaught of emotions. He should have stayed on Elack and died with him. At least he would have been redeemed. In death, he couldn't hurt, wouldn't hurt, his loved ones any more. Instead, he kept killing. Here he was killing Aeryn's love as he drowned in his folly. His fault. Damned by wormholes and the insanity of this place. He was better off dead than telling Aeryn his sordid story and then sullying his friend's memory. She wouldn't forgive him.
Aeryn watched with growing alarm as John's face was washed of color and bathed in sweat. She sat frozen as he suddenly violently grabbed and pulled the tubes and needles from his body, crying out as he did so, "I didn't mean it! She couldn't take my heart! I'm so better off dead!" Blood spattered her face as she lunged for his flying hands, yelling, "John! It is alright! It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but you! She can't touch you any more! Stop it!"
She leaned her entire weight on his bucking body, forcing his arms down as the technicians flew their throne chairs towards the bed. He was screaming incoherently as the blood seeped into his coverings, turning their bright gold a rusty brown.
"Oh let me die," he sobbed. He thought hazily through the tranquilizer they so obviously shot him with as he felt its burning hiss; I've been dead for years. That guy who landed on the floor and talked of Spielberg and gorgeous dangerous women is dead. Grayza put the nails on that cross and the Delvian used the spear. Only I'm not gonna rise again and I'm not going to heaven. "Kill me, please," he whispered.
Aeryn looked at his tear-streaked face and saw that innocent alien in his red swollen eyes. How could she show him what she saw? How could she convince him that Grayza and the Delvian and all the others who had tortured him through the cycles didn't matter to her one iota? He measured his existence by his morality that said that loyalty and devotion mattered above everything. When he felt he lost those, he felt he deserved what he got. How could she fight such a powerful force? She had no words.
She carefully climbed up behind him on the bed and raised the dead weight of his shoulders and head so that they now rested on her chest. She grasped this man to her with all her strength and whispered into his ear, "You listen to me, you frelling space man. No one can take you from me. No one! I wasn't there to protect you from Grayza and her poisons and all the other attacks. I am to blame, not you. We are in this together. We protect each other. Didn't I tell you that monens ago? I will not let Grayza, or the Delvian, or the other aliens win. If you die, they win. Don't let them win, John. I couldn't bear it if you leave. Your son and I need you. We need your compassion and courage. We need your stubborn pride. I wasn't there for you and you did what you had to do. Those torturers couldn't take your heart because that is mine." She shook with the intensity of her words and buried her face in his short, damp hair. "Come back to me," she whispered.
John lay encircled by her arms. He was floating in a sea of feelings. He had no clue how to save himself. He heard her cries but couldn't speak. How could he raise a child or love this amazing woman as she deserved when he was so damaged? Blood on his hands, blood everywhere. Zhaan was right when she said anger was a poison and his was killing him. All he felt was rage and despair. He closed his eyes.
They lay together quietly in sadness until Aeryn felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up into the eyes of one of Rygel's courtiers. Aeryn motioned for the Hynerian in the multicolored and richly embroidered robe to move across the room. She gently pulled herself out from under her now sleeping mate, noticing with alarm that he didn't even stir during the movement and jostling. "Well, is there word of a healer?" she asked without the preamble typically expected in the Hynerian court. The small green alien was nonplused by Aeryn's directness, but swallowed his displeasure at her rudeness and responded, "Yes, we have located a Delvian priestess who has agreed to take John Crichton's case. She claims to be a 14th level Pau capable of psychological and physical healing." Aeryn swallowed and blinked back a sharp response at the news of the species of the medic. Rygel had better know what he was doing, because it was definite that John would cooperate willingly. All she said to the servant was "When will she be arriving?"
"Directly after First Meal,"
John woke suddenly and was startled by pressure on both of his wrists when he sought to raise his hand. He looked down and frowned at the bindings securing his arms to the bed. Frell, then it wasn't a nightmare and he had definitely crossed over the bend into madness. He had a vague memory of Aeryn's comfort after an agonizing session of 'let's punish the stupid earthman, round three hundred.' "Hello?" he called weakly. "Somebody wanna untie me so I can get to the little boy's room?" He shook his head trying to free it of the dizzy disconnected feeling, but was unsuccessful. If anything, he felt even more bleary by the minute. "He swallowed the bile that rose up and gagged him as he remembered more of the previous evening. God, Aeryn knew about Arnessk. It is finished, then," he mumbled.
John frowned and pulled on the straps that held him safe from himself as he saw a nightmare in blue and gold glide serenely into the medical center. He began to sweat and struggle fiercely, tearing gouges into his wrists in the process, but the Hynerians knew how to tie knots. She had betrayed him to his enemy. He knew she would not want him after she learned of his time in Grayza's hands, but to do this to him? Oh God played strange tricks on the road to Hell. He tried to shriek for help, but the room was empty except for the Delvian who now stood with her multi-ringed fingers pressed together as if in prayer in front of her azure and yellow-stipled face. Her brilliant blue hair was swept back and held in place by a series of gold and sapphire clips that matched the spirals on what were obviously vestments. She didn't say a word, but just smiled at him from where she stood over his bed.
He tried to shy away, to escape but his current circumstances made that impossible, so he did what he always did in similar frelled up situations; he talked. "So, who are you, my executioner? I couldn't manage the deed myself, so my overactive imagination conjures up my worst nightmare to help? What's it gonna be; front or back? I'm your's lady. I got no more fight left in me. Take me now." He closed his eyes and waited for the killing blow. He waited for the sharp nails to rake his chin and chest. He waited for the hand to reach down and squeeze because she had taken everything else, there was no reason to not expect her to first want his manhood and then his life. He shivered and tried not to sway with the nauseous dizziness he felt in waves. "Well, take your best shot, lady," he whispered.
Aeryn stood by the doorway and watched as John struggled with his fear and fought back with bravado laced with a death wish. This wasn't how she wanted this first session with the healer to play out. "John, calm down," she called to him seeking to cut through his rising panic. "Pau Shelak Dhran is here to help you. She is a priestess and could never harm. Listen to me, please!"
"Na-no!" he screamed, "This is all a terrible dream. I'm being punished for my sins. None of this is real! Get the frell away from me!"
The Pau began a low chant that sounded like a humming such as madium steel makes when beat upon. The vibrations traveled up the metal of John's bed and centered on his chest, repeating until it seemed as his heart beat in time with her song. He could feel himself beginning to drift with the tone as it rang in such low decibels as to be almost soundless. As Aeryn watched in amazement, John relaxed on the bed, his hands unclenching from the fists he had pulled so tightly that he had left bloody marks on his now open palms. The priestess approached his bedside and raised her hands parallel to the almost catatonic man. She passed her palms over his entire body and sighed as she continued her call to her goddess for peace. He had such a troubled aura, full of violent slashes of reds and yellows. Where her hands passed, she sensed pain and guilt and a deep terror that was old and well worn. This man had endured much, yet she was told he was from a place far away and could not have known what life was like here in this part of space. He was a child lost in the wilderness who had suffered much. She would bring him home.
The Pau motioned silently for Aeryn to come closer. "Your mate is an alien, true?" she asked quietly. "He suffers from such sorrow and has lost his center. He is dying from the insanity inflicted on him. I can heal him physically but that cannot happen until he wants to live again. Tell me about your mate. Who is John Crichton?"
Aeryn looked at the priestess and noted that like Zhaan, her eyes were a cerulean blue with yellow spiraling in and about her dark irises. She trusted this medic for some reason and raised her hand that wore his band. "John gave me this ring as a symbol that we belong together, each one half completing a single whole. He is my life and I am his. We have been through so much dren, so many misunderstandings. Yet, he said I could be more and through his love I have found peace. All he wants for us, his family, is peace. John Crichton is a complex, frelled-up, arrogant, stubborn, brilliant, foolish man who values loyalty, friends, and family. I have failed him many times, and I hope you can save him. Please help him." Aeryn looked down at her hands and turned away. It was up to the priestess and John now.
The Pau smiled at Aeryn and nodded. "Yes, this man loves you beyond life. I sense that it is his love that is the only thing keeping him alive. I will use that to bring him back. You must leave us now."
The priestess prepared herself for the arduous task of matching minds with an alien. Her meditations had prepared her for this task. It was the reason she was able to live on this planet with its gluttonous, grasping, and filthy population. She came to Hyneria because its people opened their arms to the oppressed of other worlds. They were complex, these amphibious aliens. And she had grown to love them. She felt their presence and drew strength for the task ahead.
John floated in a sea of blue where nothing could hurt him any more. He felt the fingers as they touched the sensitive place behind his ears, but he was so tired. He weakly shook his head seeking to dislodge the forehead that pressed down upon his own. He was suddenly plunged into an alien landscape. He couldn't breathe and gasped but was quickly caught in a glowing, shimmering light. He approached the core, the white-hot center and passed through into a world of bright light and beauty. He smiled and remembered his words to Zhaan the last time he experienced this awesome almost sexual giddy and jazzed up feeling. "It's like Disneyland on acid or 10 years of great sex!" he whispered and remembered his friend.
"Yes, John Crichton, all Delvians are not insane. We all reach for the darkness that is inside us and those who pull it up and wear it like a coat eventually succumb to the madness of their anger. But as I see in your memory, Pau Zotoh Zhaan had conquered hers. Do not judge us by our evil. Look into my heart and tell me what you see."
"No, na-ah. I'm not gonna play," John muttered. "Who said you could invade my thoughts like this? Who gives you the right to play God? You don't get to play repairman just because you can. Not with this spaceman." John tried to push her away, but she seemed to hold him in the light without even reacting to his feeble efforts.
"Your mate, Aeryn Sun and your friends, Rygel the 16th and Chiana the Nebari give me the right to invade your mind, as you put it. They love you and need you. So, I am here to show you their love."
"So, you gonna be Clarence, now? Is that it? I've had Harvey in my brain. You gonna show me It's A Wonderful Life, the Crichton Years? Well, lady, I don't need your help. I've lived this hell and have frelled it up all by myself. I know how to fix things if you would just let me go." He angrily turned his head away, but everywhere he looked, he saw himself.
He watched himself reaching gently down and grasping Aeryn and pulling towards him to comfort her during her intense pain at the discovery of her participation in the death of Moya's first Pilot. He saw himself sitting by D'Argo's side on Moya's hull quietly offering his friendship and sympathy. He watched as he sang to Zhaan; kissed Rygel on the head; hugged and offered brotherly advice to Chiana as she learned another hard lesson in her short life on the run. He felt a small smile at how he and Aeryn were married during that awful bombardment on the water planet exactly moments before the miraculous arrival of their beautiful son. So much compassion provided for free to his Jerry Springer family. And in return, he received his sanity. He received his haven. He received home. He wanted to go home. John felt the tears as they poured down his cheeks. All he wanted was, was to be a good father and husband. He would give his life to provide that small gift to his family. John looked up and saw Aeryn in the light. His constant and center of his map. And she was smiling.
John shuddered and pulled away from the intensity of the Pau's blue gaze. The tears glistened on his cheeks and he gasped and choked but smiled. "Thank you," he whispered. He felt as the tiny hands reappeared and loosened the bindings that held his arms down. He would sleep now and there would be no more thoughts of dying.
The Pau was tired but peaceful as she turned to where she knew Aeryn stood again in the doorway. He will mend now. He needs you more than life itself. I just reminded him of that. It was all it took. He and I can talk now about what happened and hopefully I can help him find his center again. It will take some time, but he is a good man.
Aeryn smiled and it lit up her eyes for the first time in weekens. He had found his hope again and so had she.