3/2001 –
Resolution
S. Hempel (AKA Lyme BloodTalon)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Farscape, or the characters. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little bit, but I promise I won't hurt the worse than anything DK's done to them.
All of my fiction is available at http://www.crosswinds.net/~lyme/ in the section titled 'Farscape Dren'.
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: Drama/Ep-Filler/Wishful Thinking
SPOILERS: Everything up through DMD, including big honkin' ones for DMD
SUMMARY: An attempt to clean up the horrific mess the crew is in after the events of DMD…
ARCHIVING: If you have something of mine already, take it. If not, email and ask.
FEEDBACK: lymebt@airmail.net
NOTE: My muse sucks. She made me start this, January 27th. Then she ran off, and came back with another muse, who made me do evil photomanips. This, btw, is the longest fanfic I've written to date. And, yes, I still want to beat David Kemper with all sorts of blunt objects. Oh, yeah, this is a situation that would prolly never happen on the show, too, BTW. I half-wish I had a DK-Chip to blame, hehee.
~~~
Part 1: Death
~~~
He had been lying on the operating table for an indeterminable amount of time. He didn't know how long it had been since Scorpius had reclaimed the chip and left him in a paroxysm of rage. Five microts, or five hundred? Five arns? No, it couldn't have been that long, could it?
John's throat felt raw and bloody. He swallowed, wincing. He'd lost it when Scorpius had found him. His own screams of rage, pain, and hatred had echoed through the chamber until his ears were ringing. He had spent dozens of microts trying to wrench himself free from the restraints that held him to the table, unmindful of his condition. After a while, he had given up on attempting to free himself, and he had slumped back against the table.
Control, John-boy. Control yourself, he thought. For the first time in over a cycle, he had complete control over his mind – or what was left of it. No Scorpius whispering in his ear. Somehow, he couldn't grasp that idea, fully. Under any other circumstances, his relief would have been intense. Now, it was barely noticeable.
But Scorpius had found him. Scorpius had taken the chip, and left him to the mercy of fate. And, below him, on the floor, the Diagnosan lay either dead or dying. And Aeryn. Aeryn was dead.
Dead.
Aeryn, oh, God. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed. He felt a wave of grief and guilt wash over him. Intellectually, he knew that he wasn't to blame for what had happened. He had been under control of the neurochip; at the mercy of the Scorpius clone that was in his head. He only prayed that Aeryn had understood – and that she had forgiven him for what he could not stop.
Even though he knew all of this, the largest part of his soul refused to forgive itself. He had killed the woman he loved – who loved him. After all the trials and torments they had endured, he'd lost her – mere arns after she'd told him that she loved him. Words that he'd been almost praying to hear for over a cycle. And he'd not only lost her – but he'd killed her himself.
But that was okay; it was. He was going to die, too. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last in his current condition, but it couldn't be very long. There was a hole the size of a walnut in his brain. The only creature on the planet that could help him was incapable of doing so. In a few arns, at the most, he'd be able to rejoin Aeryn.
Scorpius had won.
He closed his eyes again, and hoped that death would not be long in coming.
~~~
Scorpius strolled out of the medical lab, feeling quite satisfied with himself. He paused, catching himself humming that tune again – the one that had been with him for the past few solar days. He smiled to himself, and fingered the small container that held his chip.
At last, his cycle-long quest was at an end. He'd regained John Crichton – if only for a few microts. But in those few microts, he'd been able to retrieve the chip with the information he sought. He marveled at the irony that he didn't even have to remove the chip himself – he'd only had to kill the Diagnosan.
Scorpius felt a small pang of regret at that – after all, if it hadn't been for the expertise of Tocot, he would have died cycles ago. But Tocot had been in the way; he could have fully healed John Crichton. It amused Scorpius to no end to leave the one creature he hated more than any other alive, to live out his miserable existence alone, enraged, and unable to express it. It was only fair, after what the Human had done to his Gammak Base and Aurora Chair.
"Scorpius, sir!" Braca approached Scorpius, standing at attention. "We've secured the facility. Grunchlk is in custody."
"Very well done, Lieutenant," Scorpius said. "Bring him to me."
"Sir. And, sir?" Braca hesitated for a microt. "We've also discovered the defector Aeryn Sun. She's been frozen in one of the cryotubes. I thought you might want to know."
Scorpius paused for a moment. Aeryn Sun had been Crichton's companion. She might be useful, if it proved difficult to retrieve the information from the chip. "Yes. Secure her cryotube, and prepare to have it moved to the command carrier."
Braca nodded sharply, then turned on his heel and stalked away. Scorpius watched him leave, idly pondering the information. Aeryn Sun. She'd caused him nearly as much trouble as Crichton had. Yes, she would prove to be entertaining, if not useful.
~~~
"Look. All I am saying, D'Argo, is that I don't think it's wise to leave him down there alone!" Chiana followed D'Argo as he strode down the hallway, trying to keep up with him.
"Not now, Chiana. Stark and I have to administer the second dose of the anesthesia to Moya," he said. He entered the burned section to find that Stark had not yet arrived, and then turned to face Chiana. "After we're finished, we will go for Crichton. He wanted to be alone."
Chiana shook her head incredulously. "Right now, alone is the last thing Crichton needs to be, D'Argo. You know that. Do you remember how you felt when Lo'Laan died?"
D'Argo's expression changed immediately from one of annoyance to one of hurt. Chiana had struck a nerve, and she knew it. "Think of how you felt, D'Argo. Then multiply that by ten."
"Are you trying to trivialize what I went through?" D'Argo asked. His expression hardened. "Get out."
"D'Argo, no, I'm trying to make you understand – " Chiana protested. Frell. This wasn't going the way she'd intended.
"Just go! Leave me. And don't ever talk about Lo'Laan again." He turned away from her.
Chiana stepped forward, towards his turned back, but stopped short. Instead, she fled with tears in her eyes. She ran blindly through the corridors of Moya, hardly noticing when she passed out of the burned area and into the healthy parts. Eventually, she stopped, collapsing against a wall. Chiana didn't know what tier she was on, nor did she care.
A DRD came down the corridor, following the path of flight she'd taken. She stared at it dully for a moment, and then kicked out at it, breaking it. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and gathered herself slowly. So much had happened in the past weekan. So much had changed – and almost none of it was for the better. It seemed that for every bit of good luck that came their way, lately, there was three times as much bad dren to follow.
Chiana stood and adjusted her clothing. After a few deep breaths, she set off to find Jothee.
~~~
"Grunchlk! How wonderful to see you again," Scorpius exclaimed. He was seated rather comfortably in the Diagnosan's fine quarters, which he had taken for his headquarters for the moment.
The guards on either side of Grunchlk pushed the captive man forward. He tripped over a rug, landing on his knees in front of Scorpius. "I wish I could say the same, Scorpius. If you needed something, I could've talked with the doctor and made a deal," he whined.
"Why make deals when I can take what I like?" Scorpius stood and walked over to Grunchlk. He looked down at the filthy man, noting with disgust that there were food stains on his shirt, as well as remnants of his last meal clinging to his face.
"So, are you going to kill me, too? You've already killed Tocot. I can tell by looking at you," Grunchlk said in a defeated voice. He should've known that the Leviathan would be trouble, but they had been easy marks. He never could resist an easy mark. But he hadn't expected the Diagnosan to die as a result.
"That all depends," Scorpius said, circling him. "How difficult is it to revive someone that you've put in storage?"
Grunchlk snorted. "Too hard. Besides, they're all almost dead, anyhow. They'd be worthless to you!"
Scorpius snarled. That was not the answer he wanted. Suddenly, Grunchlk found his cheek pressed to the ground, with Scorpius' booted foot planted firmly on his neck. "I'll ask again. Can you revive someone who has been put into storage?"
Grunchlk moaned in fear. He knew what Scorpius was capable of, and relented immediately. "It depends, it depends!" he cried. "It depends on how long they been frozen for, and what they died of!"
Scorpius removed his foot. "Very well. Your life has been spared. For now." He turned to the guards. "Bring him to the command carrier, and lock him up. Do not mistreat him too badly, because I need him."
~~~
"You're going back? Why?" Jothee asked, a slightly confused look on his face.
"Crichton is my friend. No, he's more than a friend, he's like family," Chiana explained. "I have to go back. I have a really bad feeling about this."
"But I thought he wanted to be alone," Jothee said.
"Yeah, that's what he said. But would you really trust
him alone right now? And it's not safe. We're all here, on Moya. Crais is on
Talyn, Zhaan is still messed up from whatever Crichton did to her, and besides,
Pilot needs her. And, well, I'd have to be frelling insane to trust
Crais."
"So, I was your last choice?" Jothee grinned.
"No… hey! Come on, will you help me or not?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess," he said, scratching absently at the scar on his nose.
Chiana stepped closer to him, tracing her finger down the scar. "How'd you get that, anyway?"
Jothee froze, and his face hardened into a scowl. "Are we going to check on Crichton or not?" he asked, obviously avoiding the subject. That was a memory he didn't want to relive.
~~~
"Zhaan?"
The Delvian turned to face Pilot. She had been in his den for the majority of the time since they had returned to Moya. Zhaan had come there almost immediately after exiting the pod. She knew how close Pilot and Aeryn had been – and she knew that he would need comforting.
"Yes, Pilot?"
"The DRDs tell me that Chiana and Jothee are en route to the Maintenance Bay. I believe they are planning to leave in one of the transport pods," he said, in his calm tone. Even though Moya was badly injured and Aeryn had died, Pilot had somehow managed to maintain his cool and collected tone of voice.
"What?" Zhaan said, surprised. She tapped the comm on her sleeve. "Chiana? What are you doing?"
"Leaving," Chiana answered after a few microts. "Gonna go see Crichton."
"Chiana, John said that –"
"Yeah, I know, Zhaan, okay?" Chiana responded. "He said he wants to be alone. But I don't trust him, and I'm sure as hezmana not going to leave him there. He needs us, Zhaan. I'm worried about John."
Zhaan frowned, her brow creasing. Chiana never called Crichton by his first name – except when she was really scared or worried. "Chiana? Give me a few microts. I'm coming with you."
Another pause. "Sure, okay. But don't tell D'Argo, all right?"
"I'll be there in thirty microts."
Zhaan turned to Pilot, resting a hand along his cheek. He lifted a claw to softly touch Zhaan's hand, and then said, "Go, Zhaan. Crichton needs you more than I do at the moment. I… appreciate… your presence, as does Moya."
Zhaan smiled at him. "May Kahaynu bless you, Pilot." Then she turned and left.
~~~