For me, Farscape was love at first sight. We've been through a lot together, and I've jokingly titled my boxed set of all of the seasons 'my sanity in a small blue cardboard box'. It has been a wonderful new discovery, and I immediately loved John and Aeryn's relationship.
This fanfic will contain small chapters (sometimes drabbles) showing the progression of their relationship through each episode. I'm going to aim for one a day, considering their length and the fact that I will be trying to re-watch the series anyway, although the amount posted may vary. Each chapter will switch perspective from Aeryn to John starting with Aeryn in this chapter.
I don't own Farscape. (Much as I wish I did)
Now that my author's note is about as long as the chapter, I think it's about time we got started. Enjoy!
Part One- More
1-1 You Can Be More
Humans are morons.
Or at least they are if they are anything like John Crichton.
It was his fault, really, the frelling human. His appearance had killed Crais' brother, and defending him had secured her status as "irreversibly contaminated". Not that she was defending him, really. It was just blatantly apparent that he lacked the intelligence, or planning, for it to have been intentional. Besides, he had been staring at everything in that fahrbot manner of his, eyes slightly wide with either wonder or stupidity. Aeryn couldn't decide which.
And now she was stuck on a frelling prison ship, forced to flee from everything she had known. Everything that she had wanted.
And then there was his refusal to leave without her, much to her behest. Even when she insisted that she would rather stay, rather try and fight to get her life back. She should have stayed. She should have fought. She should have reasoned with Crais, found a way. But she didn't. She couldn't.
"You can be more," he had told her.
That was it. The one simple sentence that caught her off her guard. He didn't know what it meant to her, couldn't have known where she had heard it before. It captivated her, brought her into this frelling mess.
With a little time, she began to rationalize her decision. She would have been killed if she hadn't left. There wasn't really much of an option. Reasoning with herself, she noted that she was just doing it to survive, and a part of her had known that this was the only way.
The truth, however, lay in one sentence and two questions:
You can be more.
What could she become without this life as a Peacekeeper?
Why did John Crichton care?
