He didn't know where he was.
Which dark part of space he was occupying at the moment.
All John could think of was, and focus on, was the tin canister in his hands.
A lot of thoughts occurred to him as he put that canister to his mouth.
A lot of possibilities, hopes and fears which tormented the insides of his closed eyes.
John sat in the diner, facing the refrigeration units and with his back to the dark window.
The heel of his boot touched the floor as he lay there by the window, repeating that one single motion of his hand.
Whenever the bitter liquid touched his tongue John grimaced and twitched.
He still had to get used to this alien drink, but he was starting to like it more and more.
There was nothing to do here anyway.
He would spend the rest of his life here on this ship, running for his life with fugitives as friends.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
Seven million species registered, but no-one's ever even heard of humans, or Earth, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Jaws.
Frell, they didn't even know Clint Eastwood!
John was stuck here with this bunch of murdering lunatics who would eagerly trade Pilot's arm, or perhaps even his arm if they were given the choice, to get home.
John held out his arm in front of him and looked at every little hair on it as he wondered if he would have given his own arm for Namtar's little crystal, if there was even the remotest chance of finding Earth.
Would he have wielded the blade which cut off Pilot's arm?
John wiped his sweaty hand on his grey shirt, suspecting he really didn't want to answer that question.
He sat up straight and gazed at the floor as he took another sip of his drink.
He realized he had no other desire than just to sit there and do nothing.
Sit there and die.
Fade to black.
Ding dong, the witch is dead.
John held the tin canister in his hands which held the bitter, brown liquid as he noticed his own muttering and the crazy words which left his mouth without him intending it.
He would go crazy out here, in this far end of the universe.
He'd come back to Earth a madman, a raving lunatic who lost his mind many, many years ago.
He wouldn't come back to Earth at all.
He was never going to find it.
He had no chance whatsoever.
Hours later, John held Aeryn in his hands.
She was gasping for breath, twitching and trembling as the stuff which had just been injected into her eyes took hold of her.
John felt the blue claw in his hands and looked down on the tough, blue face which Aeryn had turned into.
She had changed so dramatically he could barely recognise her, besides the eyes which gazed upon him filled with fear.
"What have I done?" John asked the deformed scientist.
"You saved her life," she said to him, but for all he knew she could have died in her arms then and there.
She held his hand as she trembled and suffered, the whites of her eyes shivered as she gazed into his eyes and never let go.
He placed a hand on her head and clenched his jaws together in a painful smile of comfort, and he shivered with her.
He suffered with her.
Her eyes closed with every stroke of pain as the antidote rushed through her system, cleansing her of everything which wasn't supposed to be there.
And whenever it seemed she would lose consciousness, John grabbed her tight and squeezed her blue hand which slowly transformed back to normal.
"Come on, Aeryn!" John said. "Look at me! It's happening, Aeryn! Look at me!"
As long as she would just look at him, everything would be okay.
He had to keep her awake, keep her focused.
The female, hunchbacked scientist watched and nodded as the transformation progressed
"I'm here, Aeryn," John said. "I'm taking you back to the ship."
He hoped she could hear him through the jolts of pain and twisted organs as even her thoughts were put back together again.
She was wriggling and twitching in his arms as he slowly lifted her, and the female scientist watched his every move; she was ready to jump in with her big hands if Aeryn ever were to fall.
Just as she was about to lose consciousness, she suddenly squeezed John's hand and looked directly into his eyes.
"Don't let go," she said to him.
John clenched his jaws together in a hurt, painful smile as sweat glistened on his forehead.
He squeezed back.
He watched her recover day by day, turning back to normal slowly with each hour that passed.
He paced by her door whenever times seemed bad, but whenever she'd ask how long he had been standing there he would lie, and tell her it was but a brief moment.
Finally she seemed like herself again, and she stood on her own two feet once more.
And the only thing on John's mind was Aeryn's smile.
He was desperate to make her laugh and forget her worries just for once.
She would never smile, but it worked nevertheless.
"You saved me," Aeryn said.
John looked into her eyes, but then his eyes refocused and he gazed out that dark window and glanced at the blue asteroids they were leaving behind.
Moya was travelling onwards through space, to parts of the galaxy unknown, uncharted.
But this time he gazed outside, John didn't feel as sad as he did before.
"Yeah," John said softly.