Title: Home and the Second Wave
Author: Meridian
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to say I own these characters (hell, as much as I'd like to just own Ben Browder and Sebastian Spence), I don't. They belong, I suppose, to the Sci-Fi Channel or whoever sells them the episodes. Whatever, they sure as hell don't belong to me, nor do I have express written or oral permission to use them. Um, not suing me would be greatly appreciated, as I am not making any money from this story, nor do I have much to begin with…thanks so much.
Spoilers: Oh boy, spoilers! Well, none really for the First Wave portion of this story, just you have to know the basic characters there…Farscape Spoilers? Let's see…Nerve, The Hidden Memory, and Bone to Be Wild…that should cover most of it, save for vague and infrequent references to past eps…
Note: This is a crossover, so knowing both shows would greatly aid in your understanding of events. It's not necessary, but it helps. Thanks to my story consultant Michelle (what would I do without her?) who proved that you don't have to watch either show to follow and yes, even like the story.
Formatting Notes:
[[…..]] Indicate memory
Italics…thoughts
********* Indicate change of scene
------------- Same setting, only separate from the action taking place previously
HOME AND THE SECOND WAVE
Salem, Massachusetts
May 10
"Lita, babe, what would I do without you?"
"You'd be drunk off your ass, Harv. Go home. You're wife is probably worried sick." Harvey Browning slid off the barstool, fishing for his keys. "You didn't drive, Harv. You live around the block. Skeedaddle, would you? I'm closing up tonight." He nodded, woozily walking out toward the exit.
"See y'around, Lita." She did not acknowledge his passing or his departing call. The sound of the swinging door told her all she needed to know.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Lithia Duncan." Lita looked up from the counter she'd been scrubbing and, in typical bartender fashion, threw her towel up over her shoulder and focused on her guest.
Not bad. No boozehound, that's for sure. Her eyes scanned his taut physique as well as his handsome, weatherworn features. Nope, definitely not her type of closing-time customer in for a last stiff drink.
"You found her. Can I help you?"
"My name is Jack Parker. I'm interested in a job, and I heard this place was hiring. Do I talk to you or the owner?" Lita raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Parker, huh? Want to meet the owner? Shake my hand, Parker, and you could say you've met the owner." Jack did as told, shaking her hand with a firm grip, matching her own, impressed by her considerable strength in just that one action.
"I'm sorry, I was told to ask for you, but I didn't know that you were…"
"Yup, ever since John Duncan passed on, I've been the owner. Not surprised if you didn't hear it. People around here don't like a woman running a tavern. They think it's a bad omen or something." Jack smiled.
"I seem to remember a tavern keeper, a female tavern keeper, being hung to death in Salem. I read up on local history when I visit, if I can." Lita smiled.
"Her name wasn't 'Goody' anything, that's why people don't like her, more than her being a witch, Parker."
"Just Jack." Lita shook her head, resting her arms on the counter.
"Nah, you look like a Parker to me. I've seen plenty of Jacks, and Joes, and Johns, and Steves. A person should be addressed by the name that suits them. You are a Parker. Although, that doesn't sit just right. Give me time, I'll think of something better." Parker smiled.
"Parker'll be just fine then." They stood in understanding for a moment before Lita took her towel back into her hands and smiled right back at him. Something in that smile was infectious; it made her trust him.
"So, about that job…"
*******************
Seventy Arns Ago
"Is it certain, D'Argo?" Aeryn tried to conceal her concern, but warrior-to-warrior, she knew D'Argo could read the panic behind her stale façade.
"Zhaan assures me it is. A weeken, maybe less." Aeryn nodded and abruptly ended the conversation by turning on her heels and stalking out to discover more from the Delvian.
A weeken, maybe less. A weeken? How were they going to find his planet by then? It could be impossible. No, less likely than that. The vastness of space had denied her shipmates their homes for so long, making Moya the only place they knew to love as a second home. Never knowing a planet of her own, Aeryn did not feel sick for anything, save perhaps, in passing, her life as a Peacekeeper. One planet, one solar system, one weeken to spend in search. One weeken to pick a single photon of light from a plasma blast. Less likely than impossible they should find this one planet? Absolutely. In one weeken, they would most likely be no closer, could even be farther away.
Then in one weeken, Crichton will die.
*******************
Salem, Massachusetts
May 12
"Parker, is that you beeping?" Lita's ears twitched at the high beeping coming from her partner behind the bar. Parker nodded and made a flimsy remark about having to answer his beeper. Beeper, my ass. Lita was anything but stupid. That sound was the abrupt ring of a cell phone. Business was too busy to stop and associate much to that recognition, but Lita tucked the thought away for later as she turned back to the counter.
"What can I get you?"
--------------------------------
"Eddie?" Cade Foster whispered. The din at the bar made such actions unnecessary, but he had not survived this long by taking stupid chances.
"Foster, it's about time. What's the story in Salem?"
"I've been kind of busy. I haven't had time to really grill the locals yet."
"Then what have you been doing?"
"Working." There was a pause. Cade could see Eddie's surprised face on the other side of the line. The mere thought made him irate. "Listen, if this is as important as we think it is, I'm going to need some long term arrangements."
" 'Kay, just don't go all respectable on me. I'd be bored." There was a shuffling noise on the other end…Eddie flipping the pages of the book. Cade had no other more appropriate name than that, The Book. "What's the quatrain say exactly?"
"Quatrain 35, Century 5…And the missing hero will be delivered by the wings of angels to a town of witches for salvation. And the lone wolf will witness his rebirth…I think Salem is our town, Foster, but have you figured out any local boy who's been missing of late…or are you too busy working?" Rolling his eyes and sorely wishing he could have strangled Eddie across the phone, Cade grunted to indicate a negative answer.
"I'm working on it."
"Well, while you're working, the Gua are digging in a little deeper, buddy. Get to it." Cade snapped off his phone without bothering to reply. Lita poked her head around the corner to catch him stuffing it back in his pants pocket.
"Any time, Parker." He smiled, nodded, and followed her back out to the counter. Lita had assigned him to the cash register as he was sans bartending skills. In her opinion, he made up for that lack and change by handling the money. She was more than content to serve the customers.
After all, her dad would never have left his bar to an amateur. Lita smiled. Her father's death had not affected her as painfully as she had expected. Working helped, especially since this bar was his baby. Now it was hers, but part of her father still lived as long as she was doling out drinks she had learned to mix long before she was of a legal age to drink any of them.
"Parker, get Harv to pay his tab tonight, will you?" Cade nodded as he handed one customer his change. As soon as that transaction was complete, he walked around the counter to Harvey's seat by the door.
"Come on, pal, time to pay the pip..." Cade's words were lost in an "Ow!" as the door smacked into him from behind. Recovering, he leaned back to see the new customer.
The 'customer' turned out to be female. She was middle height and weight, though most of her bulk appeared to be muscle. Her raven colored hair was a tangled mess. She regarded Cade with an analytical stare, and after assessing that he could not help her, she side stepped him and went to the bar. Cade watched her pull out a paper and hand it to Lita. Lita appeared amused then concerned, a change that put the hairs on the back of his neck on end.
That woman had given him a bad vibe, and he had learned to trust his instincts. They were screaming now. Suppose that was yet another flyer with his picture on it? The woman could easily have been a bounty hunter, human or alien, either was a possibility. Lita did not seem to have the same aversion and actually began a conversation with her. The conversation was completely one-sided, as the new arrival would only ever nod or shake her head.
"Hey, Parker, c'mere!" Cade kept all tension out of his stride, willing himself not to panic. It could be a coincidence. The woman regarded him in passing then returned to look at Lita. Lita pushed the note to the edge of the counter for him to read. A quick scan told him only that it had nothing to do with him. But it did have to do with the woman and why she seemed extremely hesitant to speak. Cade read it aloud, though under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
"My name is Aeryn. I cannot speak because of an injury. I am looking for a doctor for my friend. I believe he is suffering from shock. I cannot take him to a hospital."
*******************
30 Arns Ago
"What is wrong with him exactly?" The former priestess sighed, tired throughout.
"John is suffering because of some after-effects of the Aurora chair. Chiana informed me that he spent more than ten arns being interrogated in that infernal device. There was no way to know how that would affect him, and I do not believe Scorpius cared." Zhaan collapsed into her chair while Aeryn stood at attention in front of her. "Aeryn, what do you know of the effects on Sebaceans? Your similar physiologies could provide some clue to his ailment."
"After an arn in the chair, most cannot resist any longer and reveal all, that is all I know for certain. Those interrogated were rarely allowed to live long enough to suffer side effects." Zhaan nodded, her head dropping in slight surrender.
"Then I suppose there is no way to know. We must continue our search for John's Earth in hopes they will know more than I." Aeryn dropped to a crouch to meet the Delvian's gaze.
"Why can't you treat him here?" Zhaan shook her head slowly.
"That would be impossible. I would most certainly do more damage than good. This fugue state John has entered may be almost entirely psychological, but I cannot penetrate his mind to discover the malady. Something is preventing me, and I believe it may be a function of the Aurora chair." Aeryn nodded, suddenly comprehending.
"To keep anyone from resuscitating him and taking the information while he's still weak. Are you sure he will not recover?" Zhaan did not move or make a motion to indicate a response. Aeryn reached out to squeeze Zhaan's knee, a supportive gesture.
"I am almost certain. There appears to be some damage to his…I am not sure what the organ is called, but it is responsible for the filtration of toxins from the blood." Aeryn nodded, not as a gesture of understanding, but as one of question.
"Like the paraphoral nerve?"
"Yes, but it is not a nerve. I dare not try and amend it on my own. As I said, it might make matters worse. This organ is not the only one to suffer. There are two other organs that are also responsible in some way for the removal of wastes. Only one appears significantly damaged, and the other has compensated. The build up of wastes, however, could complicate matters further. It is impossible to know what kind of infections could have taken hold while he was on the base, especially in the prison. I know better than most that prisons are not the cleanliest places in the universe."
Aeryn stood again, stretching her legs out from the sore crouched position she had been in. She nodded to Zhaan as she left instead of saying goodbye. The words would not have come had she tried. Aeryn followed a direct course to John's quarters.
I'm just making sure he hasn't gotten worse. This lie propelled her over her anxiety and past the door into his room. Her worst fears were proven correct when she saw him. His body was completely flaccid, resting without strength, spilled against the bed. A few gasped breaths that would attack suddenly, fiercely, and then subside slowly for a time interrupted this condition of complete relaxation. At least he had his eyes closed now. Aeryn shivered at the memory of Crichton spasms when his eyes were blank and lifeless but staring out at them all. The memory had burned into her mind no matter how she had fought against it.
Only a weeken ago, he had been fine. Maybe not fine, but not sick, not unconscious or incoherent. At their reunion on the base, Aeryn had noticed his sickly color. More than pale, Crichton had a yellow tinge to his skin. While this hue was the norm for many species, Aeryn, frell, everyone had known it was not natural for Crichton. The color spoke of pain, exhaustion, and sickness. He had made it through the escape more or less intact, holding his own and breaking away from Scorpius.
Gilina's death had turned most of his recovery, or apparent recovery around. The trip to the Botany Asteroid had exacerbated whatever had been festering. Aeryn could recall vividly Crichton stepping back onto Moya with a sickly air. But Zhaan had been disturbed, and Aeryn hadn't been able to muster up the courage to thank Crichton then, so when the choice came, she chose to talk to the Delvian and to help her work on D'Argo. Only an arn later, Crichton was down.
[[ "Officer Sun, Chiana would like you, Zhaan, and D'Argo to meet her in the mess hall immediately." Aeryn looked up sharply.
"What's the matter, Pilot?"
"She seemed rather distressed. She indicated that there was a problem with Crichton." Aeryn could feel her heart squeeze tighter at hearing that name. "I am sending DRDs to check up on them now."
"We are on our way, Pilot," Zhaan answered and led the way to the mess. They arrived at the end of the affair, or so they guessed. Chiana was sitting on her knees, Crichton's head in her lap. Aeryn could not quell a stab of an unknown anger; she refused to believe it was jealousy. Chiana appeared all right, save for a long scratch on her cheek. Zhaan glided over to her side, but her attentions were focused on Crichton.
Aeryn soon saw why. His body was shaking, not much, but enough to be visible, even at her distance. The desperate sound of gasped breathing wrenched pity from Aeryn's heart as it incited D'Argo to join Zhaan on the other side of the fallen human.
"John? John, can you hear me?" Zhaan spoke lightly, and after failing to receive a response, she tapped him gently on the cheek. "John?" His eyes were open, staring upwards. He should have seen her there, but there was no effort to see, none that Zhaan could detect.
"What happened?" Aeryn moved toward Crichton cautiously. She did not trust herself to act rationally around the human under the best of circumstances, and this was not even close to that. Chiana allowed Zhaan to slip Crichton's head off her lap, then stood and backed away on shaky legs.
"He was eating, and then he started to gasp. I thought he was choking. I tried to help but…" she drifted off, rubbing absent-mindedly at her bleeding scratch. Aeryn approached her and used a rag to wipe the wound. "He started to scream. I don't know what happened. He was fine just a microt ago." Aeryn escorted Chiana over to the bench.
"Is that all that happened?" Zhaan looked up from her prostrate friend. Chiana shook her head.
"He wasn't making any sense. He was babbling about that frelling chair." Aeryn nearly choked at the mention of the Aurora Chair. It was clear the other two also knew exactly what the Nebari had meant. "I think it ruined his mind a bit." Aeryn almost smacked her at so callous and obvious a statement, but she understood that Chiana had only stated what was the general consensus at the moment.
"D'Argo, will you take him to medical?" D'Argo nodded and lifted Crichton like a child. Aeryn could not help but find the scene touching as D'Argo closed Crichton's eyes. It was a grand gesture on the Luxan's part, and one that made her feel better. The look of complete terror and then blank nothingness that had been in Crichton's eyes had shaken her to her very core. ]]
Such a stupid thing to happen. I could have done something sooner. Frell, we all could have! Aeryn kicked the chair away and moved to sit on the floor, leaning against Crichton's bed. Crichton's muscles were seized once more in a fit, this time, tossing him dangerously close to falling out of bed. He did not fall, but his face came to rest within inches of Aeryn's own.
The torment in that face ripped any reserve Aeryn had saved to shreds. For me. He did it for me. A tear welled up in one eye. A moan of remembered pain from his lips forced the tear from its perch on her lid. He looks like dren. He did look rather awful, especially with the persistent yellow intonation. Aeryn reached out apprehensively and wiped away a bead of sweat on his forehead.
Crichton's eyes opened to slits, startling her. The gaze behind them was focused on her; it was not the blank stare he had worn since falling ill.
"Aeryn." It was a wheezed monosyllable, but she heard it and knew the difficulty he had in producing it. She nodded, not daring to speak. "Help me." She watched his eyes as they followed the path of her tears down her cheek. She nodded again and was immensely grateful that he nearly smiled before lapsing back into his near comatose state. Leaning closer, she kissed him on the forehead.
"I will. I promise."
End of Part 1