1Hidden Memory, Shattered Mind
by ixchup
Rating: G
Author's Note: Thank you to my beautiful betas cathy1967 and twich.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Farscape characters and will put them back safely when I am done.
The cavernous maintenance bay chittered as lights bounced off golden bulkheads and shadows swam dizzily up and over the arched ceiling. He sat beneath the Farscape 1 fingering the stiff red leather of the Peacekeeper jacket. It rustled with his every movement as he struggled to get comfortable in the stiff, cold, and chaffing pants. He sat oblivious to the wandering DRDs even as they sent cascades of shrieks and whistles echoing into the darkness. He liked the shadows. He was a shadow, or at least he told himself that he was, as he sat bending and unbending his knees pondering the strange twists and turns of his life. His shoulders sagged. A friend died for him today. Another friend got up from her deathbed to save his sorry ass today. And what did he do? He was a dumb-ass and got caught and got his brain fried, that's what he did. He sweated, spit, and trembled as his life-guts spilt out in Technicolor with each painful jab of electricity and he screamed his throat raw, bellowing his anguish to the unfeeling corridors. Some hero.
He shuddered involuntarily with the remnants of the cold, tingling current that still periodically froze his fingers into rigidity. "Shit!" he cried out as he clumsily dropped the jacket from stiff hands on to his now trembling thighs. He bowed his head as the jerking motions stilled again. No DRD noticed. The lights from their eyes still danced and their rotors still whirred as they went about their solitary duties. Even Moya seemed oblivious to his anguish.
Nobody notices anything on this freaking boat. They were all wounded. All of them were prisoners still, stuck in a carousel of memories of suffering. He had the brass ring now and he won that ride. All he felt was drained, exhausted, and defeated. This place was sucking his soul out of his nostrils and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could feel his humanity sliding away on the slipstream of uncaring violence of this sphincter-end of a universe. Again, his body stuttered and he felt like his bones shattered from the excess energy of those jabs from that infernal chair. His arms stiffened on the jacket once more while this time his fingernails bit deeply into his palms as the paralysis struck again. He had to be strong to survive, but all he could think of at the moment was how true the taunts of the aliens were. He was a deficient creature who couldn't even tell a girl the truth. What would his family think of him now? He sucked in the chilled air of Moya's night, suddenly gasping as his diaphragm contracted over too little breath. He hiccupped and shuddered and he didn't know whether it was from unspent tears or another residual gift from that ghoul in black.
John felt his throat constrict in a deep ache as he sucked back his grief. What did he think he was doing during that wild break-neck race through the Gammack Base? He knew even then that it would end badly. How could it not? Gilina had no place on Moya and no place any more on that hideous moon that made the Exxon Valdez look like an environmental paradise. Even when they paused to hide, he wimped-out on her. He tried to make it clear to her while they sat under the grate and waited for Peacekeeper Barbie to leave. Tried to be straight with her. He never was any good at expressing how he felt when stressed. He couldn't do it with Alex and he stumbled badly with Gilina. He always avoided the tough calls.
John swallowed trying to sooth his dry throat as his memory lingered on those moments in the darkness of that claustrophobic hole. He had been so tired and tormented by the remnants of that machine. She had asked him point blank how he felt. He was too wrapped up in his own misery. Too self-centered to care that she still carried some sort of torch. And yet, he remembered now that he had felt a flicker of sadness in the midst of the fear and panic. He might have been faking his bravery as he jammed down for the meds for Aeryn, but his feelings for Gilina after the shock of seeing her wore off he couldn't fake. He felt nothing. Nothing but sadness that he couldn't love her as she wanted him to. So in the end, he had lied to give her peace. But he had no peace. John sighed and shivered again. He was so tired of pretending to be brave.
What would Dad think? Some kind of hero he was — suicidal, certifiable. Something weird happened on that oil moon. He had discovered something awful about himself. Was it only hours ago that he had just stood there in Scorpy's clutches? Where had that insanity bubble up from that had overcome him? John frowned as he thought back on what he was thinking as he was grabbed viciously from behind. It struck him now that he sat safe in the Farscape's shadow how truly bizarre the situation had been—there he was captured by a guy in the gimp's patent leather cat suit and Snoopy Red Baron helmet who had just tortured him for knowledge placed in his head by a talking insect during a hallucination trip down a rabbit hole.
He remembered that he was convinced that all of the previous three days of horror couldn't be real. There was no frigg'n way that this freak of nature was holding him so tightly that he could barely breath. Stuff like this only happened to Spiderman, not to American astronauts with PhDs and simple needs. He had felt natural optimism flee along with his reason and in that loss he heard his dare as if he was standing facing himself along side Gilina with her trembling pulse rifle. At that moment he knew he wanted to die because he couldn't face the patient malevolence of Scorpius. John shook himself out of his memories and gagged on the bile that suddenly rose in his throat. He had been so scared. Yet he would have done it. And in retrospect, his act was insane, but he had willed Gilina to shoot. He knew he was suffering from some sort of delayed shock as he sat in the dark. He still felt totally removed from himself. Gilina, simple tech that she was, had gotten up the nerve to face down Scorpy. She died for him. Would he have died for her? Spidey would have. John shook his head. Now he would never know.
Chiana crouched in the dark recesses of Moya's ribs and stared out into the shadows of the maintenance bay. She could hear Crichton's shattered breathing and muttered curses as he sat crouched under his fekkik module. She had done something today that surprised her. Not the killing of that Peacekeeper, Javio. His crisping had been sorta drad. Not the flirting with his lieutenant and his squad, which had been fun; jazzing her with its danger. Not even the lies she had told Gilina that had just come to her out of the blue. No, it was the fact that she put herself out for another being. She had done it. Had used all her wiles and survived to bring Aeryn the tissue sample and it had felt good. She had come down here to figure things out.
Chiana sat back on her heels and scratched her nose. Her life was totally out of whack. She shook her head in amazement at herself. She knew she was a survivor. She always told Nerri that she could take care of herself. But ever since coming on board Moya she found herself confused. She always figured that rules were for others. She had told Crichton that she could kick, kiss, or cry her way out of any situation. But, she knew in her heart of hearts that she wasn't really living. Everything she thought she understood about how to prosper alone, always alone, was meaningless when she looked at his selfless act. Why did he do it? Why did he go down to that Gammack base totally clueless about how Peacekeepers behaved. Hezmana! he was like a baby filibisk. And what had gotten into her? Volunteering to help like that?
She was not sure why she trusted that lonely human sitting there shivering. But she did. The surprise of that fact still bewildered her. His insane behavior floored her. Why did he do what he did? What benefit did it serve him? What did he get out of his selfless act? It was totally farbot. And yet, she had an inkling in that place in her mind where she kept her secrets safe. Nerri would have done this for her. Nerri did do it for her. She pressed her palm on her belly and felt the reassuring thump of his life disk and sighed.
John Crichton, lone human in a world gone mad hunched over his knees, huddling close as if the trembling in his thighs and calves could reassure him of his reality. He had really thought he was getting the hang of this place. Hell, he had figured out that weird-ass biological-metallurgical mishmash that was leviathan technology. He could rewire a console with the best of 'em. He had gained Pilot's trust and even thought he was finally building a relationship with the rest of Moya's passengers. He had even learned to keep down the shit they called food here, but all that changed in the flick of a switch and the slam of a set of manacles on tightening wrists. He was a fool and the Uncharted Territories had come by and smacked him upside the head. And it ached unmercifully. He buried it in his arms and shook.
Chiana quietly crept from her niche and slid closer to the trembling man. He was oblivious to what sounded in her ears monstrously loud — the slapping and sliding of her feet scraping along Moya's floor. She tentatively reached out her gloved hand and touched his shoulder, but he didn't even twitch. Slowly she reached around with both arms and hugged him from behind. Her hair was soft as it tickled his cheek and her chin was sharp where it dug into his shoulder. He felt the warm embrace and sighed. "Hey, Pip," he whispered and pulled her around to sit in front of him. He stiffly uncurled his legs, moaning with the ache of sleeping muscles. Chiana closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and pressed her head back on to his chest. His heart beat like Nerri's life disk, she sleepily thought. And their sighs bounced off the rich golden walls of the leviathan.