Though Our Time Slips Away

by mayanscaper

Inspired by Lithiumdoll's fantastic vid from Tom Macrae "A & B". What was Moya!John doing during the time Talyn!John spent with Aeryn?

1Though Our Time Slips Away

by ixchup

Rating: PG

Acknowledgements: Thanks to Kazbaby for putting the bug in my head and urging me to write this. Thanks to LithiumDoll for that great vid to Tom MacRae's song A & B that gave me the visual feeling I want in this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Farscape, that's the Jim Henson Company; I just borrow the characters and I will put them back the way I found them. I promise.

Chapter 1

The sky was black and clouds blew across the horizon obscuring the first stars of the evening. He sat on a bench in what he would euphemistically call a park although the trees didn't have names and the ground wasn't covered with anything approaching grass. He couldn't even feed the pigeons. He sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. That buzzing sensation continued, making his ears ring and his forehead wrinkle in consernation. He shook his head in annoyance.

"They just won't let up, will they?" he mussed as he looked up to the alien sky. Ancients, wormholes, Aeryn, dren…it was all the same and he, he was stuck on another planet-his island of misfit toys. He idly wondered who the broken jack-in-the-box was and where was Rudolf when he needed him. And the call continued.

Absent-mindedly brushing his hand against his ear one more time, John pressed his comm, calling rather loudly, "D, Man, I need a drink, where are you?" LoMo, what a silly name for a planet. His life was a mess.

John sat at a table that was made for a much smaller being, balancing precariously on the also too-low stool composed of some sort of black shiny substance that caused his leather seat to slide back and forth with his every movement. The blue-green, thick jellinous concoction in front of him had a kick like a mule, but it wasn't enough to drown out the incessant calling. He bent down and sucked on the two straws.

D'Argo glanced over at his friend and bent almost in half to suck on his drink. He grunted in annoyance that the contents didn't even begin to blunt his mood of grimness. John annoyed him no end with his constant sighs and groans. Jool annoyed him with her whining and now drunken demands for his attention. Dren, his life was a mess. He needed a distraction. He didn't need to be reminded of his losses…Chiana plays with every male in the room draping her sensuous form around their shoulders and accepting drinks and favors that should be his alone.

He took another gulp of the blue-green concoction and shook his tenkas is disgust. He turned his head and threw a bruising look at John where he sat squirming on that stupid stool and caught his eyes blinking back at him. Frell, that man had pain deep inside those blue orbs. D'Argo looked away and his attention was caught by two feathered beauties standing seductively at their table. Poking John in the ribs, he smiled at the girls. John blearily grinned in turn, privately rejoicing in the distraction.

Oh this was just short of the story of his life-waking up in that frelling Macy's window-a Christmas present for aliens. And fishnets! Where the frell were his pants anyway? What was he thinking? Feather hair, fuzzy fingers, itchy fingers and what had he to show for his wild night? No money, no pants, and God, fishnets. John had jumped off of the window sill after his initial shock and backed away from the view of the crowd that had gathered to gawk at the saps who got rolled. He grabbed his pants and after shrugging them and his shirt on, nudged D'Argo with his now booted foot, blowing another feather out of his mouth. He felt like shit. How stupid could they get. Never trust a blue and purple feathered chick, that was going to be his motto for the future. He heard the groan of his friend down to his toes, the rumble joining that non-stop buzzing call he was trying valiantly to ignore.

"D'Argo, man, we are righteously frelled. How stupid could we get?"

D'Argo rolled over from his position lying on his stomach with his tenkas thrown over his aching head. He blinked at John, asking gruffly, "Do you have any idea how idiotic you look in green, Crichton? Those fishnets are definitely NOT you." He pushed himself up on his knees, and rubbing his fists into his eyes, he said, "Let's find the girls and see if they have enough credits and wits for first meal. I need a drink."

John used the edge of that frelling window to pull himself up to his feet when he staggered. A bright white light surrounded him in a startled paralysis. "John!" D'Argo yelled as he reached for his absent weapon. His hands struck a fierce electrical field when he sought to strike through the white brightness. He sucked at his knuckles as he gazed at his friend who now stood ramrod straight, his neck corded with tension, eyes closed in his slightly raised head. There was nothing he could do. John finds the most amazing dren, he thought in despair. Lost on LoMo.

John felt the thoughts of his twin even as he stared in disbelief at the visage of "Jack" as he stood with his palm raised. "What the Frell!" both Johns said in unison. "Get out of my head!" they cried as Jack proceeded to grill them as to why someone was fooling with wormholes. TalynJohn could not turn his head to acknowledge the completely identical shout of frustration of his twin where he stood caught in the same mind field as himself. MoyaJohn spoke first, totally bemused by the images projected by the Ancient of the creepy wrinkled filthy alien shown flying Farscape I, "I have no idea what that guy is doing in my module, but he had better not leave any presents in there."

TalynJohn hummed in agreement that he hadn't a clue what was going on. Jack held both twins captive as he contemplated the situation. He suddenly pushed MoyaJohn who collapsed at D'Argo's feet as the brilliant light faded. D'Argo reached down and quietly stroked his unconscious friend's shoulder, whispering, "Oh my friend, what have you gotten yourself into now?" He tugged at the dead weight, straightening John's limbs into a more comfortable position and then stepped back and crossed his arms on his chest. Leaning against the wall of the small room with the huge picture window, he settled in to wait.

Chapter 2

John rolled over on his stomach and shook his head to clear it of the alcohol, alien footprints, twinned voices and other mind-altering content he felt swimming inside. He looked sideways at his Luxan friend where the large man leaned against the wall.

"How long?"

"How long, what, Crichton? How long is your life going to be frelled up by alien visitations or how long were you sleeping, or both of the above?"

"Just, how long?" John replied, peeved by the total situation as well as D'Argo's astuteness.

"Half an arn, give or take."

"Oh, man, my head feels like it is the size of a soccer ball and just as bouncy."

"John, what just happened?"

"Oh, little of this…Ancient visitations and stereo voices…a little of that," John said darkly, but then continued on a more serious note, "D, I was standing here trying to not upchuck my stomach on to your pretty clothing when the next thing I knew I was standing on Talyn locked in some sort of light ray with Ancient Jack and my twin staring me in the face. Jack wanted to know something about somebody fooling with Farscape I and wormholes and I saw the ugliest alien, even uglier than Rygel, flying my module. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here." John leaned against the wall next to his friend and lowered his head into his hands. "Man, I wish god-like aliens would stop screwing with my head."

D'Argo reached down and picked a blue feather off of John's shoulder and then lay his hand there in quiet support. "What do you think this means?"

"Hell if I know, D," John whispered, "I think my clone is in deep dren with the Ancients and that I got rejected one more time…lucky me."

D'Argo blew air through his beard and squeezed John's shoulder. "Well, there's nothing we can do, is there? We don't know where Talyn is, exactly, nor what Jack really wanted."

"That's where you're wrong. I think this has to do with Furlow. Who else knows about wormholes and has the technology and know-how to build a copy of my module. My twin doesn't have the module, I do, so he hasn't been joy riding in it. And, we know that I've not been flying through wormholes cause I'm in this fun house. Has to be Furlow on Dam Ba-Da. Has to be. That was one mean, wicked looking alien I saw in my module doing loop-de-loos in that wormhole. If Furlow has built a replica of my module and is playing wormhole jockey with those blue meanies, then I need to know about it. And, if the Ancients are involved, there is trouble coming. I can feel it in my bones. We have to get to Dam-Ba-Da. Wonder if Pilot has any records of where it is in relation to wherever here is."

"John, I've got your back on this, but first, we have a small problem. Pilot won't let us back on Moya for another eight days. And, the girls haven't shown up. There's trouble right here and I have a feeling that little fekkik alien with the funny voice is involved. We need to find her and our stolen money as well as Chiana and Jool. Leave Dam-Ba-Da and that mechanic alone. Let Talyn and Crais handle it. It is not your job to save the universe."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point there, but I can't shake the feeling that we haven't seen the end of this thing. Right, then let's boogie on down to the beach and locate that weird chick (at least I think she's one) and get our money and a remedy for my hang-over. How 'come Luxans don't get hang overs anyway?"

John leaned heavily on Pilot's console, one hand grasping a drink and the other placed on his face with his thumb rubbing his lips. "So, that is why I need you to let us back on Moya, Pilot. This is much more urgent than whether D'Argo and I are gonna kill each other or whether Chiana is gonna swallow fire or Jool is gonna pass out from too much blood rushing to her head when doing back flips for bar tips. We're good here, Pilot. Chiana and Jool are safe and I'm playing nice with the Luxan. Please, find out where Dam-Ba-Da is located. We need to get there. I think Aeryn is in trouble."

"Commander, it is not that I don't believe your story, but it is difficult to believe that any alien could have contacted you through space and brought your mind on to Talyn. In addition, we have not heard from Talyn in monens and there does not seem to be any Scarren activity broadcasted to back up your story about Charrids (as those aliens you describe are called) or wormholes. In addition, your behavior on LoMo was childish and I cannot forgive the fact that you and D'Argo got yourselves involved with drug dealers and almost got your friends killed. In addition, we cannot have Moya's and my peace continuously distracted by your wormhole travel requirements. No, we will not look up where Dam-Ba-Da is and no, you will not be granted asylum on Moya for another eight days. I will transport you and D'Argo to the next planet over from LoMo. It is is a quiet, agricultural commune of religious people who have taken vows of silence. I have contacted them and they take on postulants for limited stays. Jool, Chiana, and I will return to pick you up in seven days."

Chapter 3

John Crichton centered his entire focus on the front viewing screen in Command. It was the third day of another marathon wormhole hunting mission. His right eye twitched with tension in unison with the pulsing pain he felt in his right shoulder blade. He knew D'Argo, Jool, and Chiana were getting antsy again by the tapping of Jool's heels, the sway of D'Argo's tankas each time he blew strongly through his beard, and especially in the jerking motion of Chiana's head back and forth as time slowly ticked by. Just a few moments before Pilot had politely informed him that there were no gravitational anomalies within parsecs of Moya, in spite of his calculations of their locations in this part of space. Those noises told him that his crew-mates were arrayed at the back of Command in protest waiting anxiously for John to finally admit his defeat. He turned towards his friends and raised his hands, but suddenly collapsed in a heap.

"What the Frell!" he thought blearily. He rolled over as he opened his eyes to behold the circus tents, the dusty ground, and the flapping flags of the midway. He took the black gloved hand and used it to pull himself up towards Harvey who was wearing a ridiculous NASCAR racing uniform in a Day-Glo orange that did little to help the ghoulish cast of his face.

"John, you must not let Jack destroy me!" Harvey stuttered. "I will not go easily. I will take you and your twin along with me."

"What are you babbling about, grasshopper?" John turned away from the distraught Pooka and faced his twin. "What is going on here? Where am I? One minute I'm standing on Moya's bridge ready to throw in the wormhole towel and the next minute I'm here, wherever here is."

TalynJohn looked at his twin with sad eyes, saying, "Jack needs Harvey gone. We need Harvey gone. It is time."

MoyaJohn shook his head in denial but suddenly found himself bound into place at the back of a roller-coaster slowly heading steeply uphill. He thought absently that the coaster reminded him distinctly of the one he had ridden years ago in Sydney harbor during his stay in Australia testing the Farscape I. TalynJohn and Harvey sat in the front seats arguing, he figured about death and life but their actual words blew away in the stiff breeze generated by the rapidly ascending cars.

"Crichton! Get me the frell off this train!" John yelled into the wind. "Jack!" John could see the yellow ooze of Harvey's overheating cooling rods begin to drip down the side of his black helmet and he knew in his gut from its sudden clenching the pain of TalynJohn's anxiety. He thought of that line from Ecclesiastes "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted…" as the front cars slowly tipped their way over the top of the peak ascent.

The next thing he knew he was lying on the cold coppery floor of Moya's Command Center. "I wish this would stop happening to me," he thought as he slowly and painfully rolled himself up on his knees. John looked up at D'Argo, Jool, and Chiana as they leaned over his kneeling form, worry etched on each of their faces. "That was a weird trip," he said huskily.

"John, don't tell me that nothing happened. We all saw it this time," D'Argo stated as he offered his hand to help John stand. John grabbed his thumb and tugged his way on to his unsteady feet. He closed his eyes, searching intently for the noisy spirit that cohabited his brain. All he felt was silence. He smiled slowly and whispered, "John did it, he really and truly did it. Harvey's gone." He edged his way over and fell into one of the benches that lined the center table. "Woah, Man, this is a rush."

Jool walked rapidly over to where he sat and laid her cool hand on his forehead. "You're burning up here. John, come with me down to Zhaan's apothecary. I need to check you over. Something's not right." John looked up at her and shook his head, "Princess, I'm fine, really. I just can't believe that he's gone." With that, John slowly slid off his chair on to Moya's deck, his eyes rolling back in his head. D'Argo and Chiana rushed over to help Jool ease John down flat, holding his shoulders and legs as the man began jerking his body violently.

"I wish somebody would explain what is going on," Chiana yelled as she tried to keep John from banging his head on the floor.

"Just hold on tight, Chiana," Jool responded as she sought a more secure hold on John's feet. His tremors were subsiding as she spoke, but his sweaty body did not look healthy to her medically trained eyes.

John opened his eyes a crack, moaned, and whispered, "It's all here, all of it," and lost consciousness once more.

Part 4

Note: I think it is really cool that there are scientists working on the theories of wormholes. Equations and theorems of general relativity, quantum mechanics, and special relativity are included in this section because I believe that the real stuff is vastly more interesting than anything that I could come up with. John Crichton is a scientist and his specialty was astrophysics, so this is the arcane mathematics he works with. A small taste of quantum physics makes my head spin, imagine what it was doing to the crew of Moya. I have included links to the actual pages where these theories are presented. If you are interested, please feel free to read further. On with the story...

"What 'cha doin', Crichton?" Chiana asked as she leaned closely over John Crichton's shoulder where he sat in the Center Chamber. She looked down at the incomprehensible symbols John was scribbling madly in his notebook. His brow furrowed in thought as he paused admiring the elegance of the equations that floated from his pen on to the paper. "You have to stop soon or later, old man, or you'll wither away from not eating or sleeping."

"I know, I know, Pip, just let me get this one idea down here. Ok? I'll stop soon." John replied absent-mindedly without looking up from his work.

"You've been at this for a weeken. Where is this dren getting you? We barely see you and when we do, you're scribbling that stuff. This isn't like you. Even the Princess notices that you aren't here even when you are."

"Hmmm?"

"Old man, you aren't even listening. This is tinked," Chiana slapped John on his face lightly, then turned sharply and marched out of the Center Chamber.

John Crichton was consumed by the wormholes swimming behind his eyelids as well as the equations that described their positions, compositions, and uses. He truly couldn't sleep or eat. He knew that there was something wrong with this single-mindedness of his. He had a feeling that he shouldn't have this knowledge and that he had to get it down on paper before it was stripped from his mind. His fears rode on his shoulders goading him on in his discovery of the depth of this knowledge he had been given so suddenly. His head ached terribly and he found that he couldn't keep any food down for long. He knew he looked haggard and drawn. That his hands trembled and he hadn't really recovered from his trips into the light fantastic. He tried not to pay attention to the strange dizzy spells where it seemed that he saw his twin in the blue swirls of the wormhole equations. He could almost reach out to him and touch but then he lost it amidst the formulas and minutia of quantum physics. He knew if he could just comprehend the entirety of the knowledge he had been handed he could figure out what was happening. So he continued to write feverishly.

Natural wormholes can be found by searching for GNACHOs (Gravitationally Negative Anomalous Compact Halo Objects).

Wormhole Model

If a mass M were compressed inside a critical radius rs, nowadays called the Schwarzschild radius, then its gravity would become so strong that not even light could escape. The Schwarzschild radius rs of a mass M is given by

rs = 2 G M / c2

where G is Newton's gravitational constant, and c is the speed of light. For a 30 solar mass object, like the black hole in the fictional star system here, the Schwarzschild radius is about 100 kilometers.

Schwarzschild's geometry is described by the metric (in units where the speed of light is one, c = 1)

ds2 = - ( 1 - rs / r ) dt2 + ( 1 - rs / r )-1 dr2 + r2 do2 .

John looked up from his writing to see Jool standing at the doorway with her hands on her weirdly clad hips. Her hair was flaming red as she stared at him. "What?" he asked.

"We've been comming you for at least half an arn," Jool said testily. "I was nominated to come up here and drag you down to the maintenance bay. D'Argo needs you and you have to take your nose out of those equations before they consume you alive. Crichton, I'm worried about you. Come down and help D'Argo with that ship of his.

John shook his head and raising his hand and distantly waving it at Jool, he said, "Tell D I'll be down shortly. I just have to get these ideas down and I'll stop. I promise."

"You said that two arns ago, Crichton." Jool said petulantly. "What is so important about these wormholes that it is eating you up alive?"

John looked up from his work and Jool noted his bloodshot eyes, unshaved pale face and whitened lips. He looked crazed. She had to get him to stop. She was seriously afraid for his sanity. She still had no explanation for his earlier losses of consciousness, but he wouldn't let her examine him. John simply returned to his computations.

The quantity ds denotes the invariant spacetime interval, an absolute measure of the distance between two events in space and time, t is a `universal' time coordinate, r is the circumferential radius, defined so that the circumference of a sphere at radius r is 2 pi r, and do is an interval of spherical solid angle.

In general relativity, clocks at rest run slower inside a gravitational potential than outside.

In the case of the Schwarzschild metric, the proper time, the actual time measured by an observer at rest at radius r, during an interval dt of universal time is (1 - rs/r)1/2 dt, which is less than the universal time interval dt. Thus a distant observer at rest will observe the clock of an observer at rest at radius r to run more slowly than the distant observer's own clock, by a factor

( 1 - rs / r )1/2 .

This time dilation factor tends to zero as r approaches the Schwarzschild radius rs, which means that someone at the Schwarzschild radius will appear to freeze to a stop, as seen by anyone outside the Schwarzschild radius.

In the case of the Schwarzschild metric, a distant observer at rest will observe photons emitted by a source at rest at radius r to be redshifted so that the observed wavelength is larger by a factor

( 1 - rs / r )-1/2

than the emitted wavelength. The redshift factor tends to infinity as r approaches the Schwarzschild radius rs, which means that someone at the Schwarzschild radius will appear infinitely redshifted, as seen by anyone outside the Schwarzschild radius.

That the redshift factor is the same as the time dilation factor (well, so one's the reciprocal of the other, but that's just because the redshift factor is, conventionally, a ratio of wavelengths rather than a ratio of frequencies) is no coincidence. Photons are a good clocks. When a photon is redshifted, its frequency, the rate at which it ticks, slows down.

John couldn't explain to his crewmates his terrible feeling that something was coming to a head. That he had a very short time to master this deluge of information that was poured into his brain by the Ancient. That something terrible was going to happen and he needed to finish his efforts. He could feel the power of the wormholes growing, yet he felt curiously weak and nauseated as if he had been stricken with radiation sickness. He continued to ignore Jool as she stood over him waiting.

Eddington-Finkelstein coordinates differ from Schwarzschild coordinates only in the relabelling of the time. The relabelling is arranged so that radially infalling light rays (yellow lines) move at 45o in the spacetime diagram. Finkelstein time tF is related to Schwarzschild time t by

tF = t + ln|r - 1|

in units where the speed of light and the Schwarzschild radius are one, c = 1 and rs = 1.

The next time John looked up, Jool was gone having given up on her crewmate and his farbot need to kill himself. John wiped the sweat from his forehead with his fist, He put his hand on the newest page of his notebook and caught the drop of blood before it landed. "What the…?" he thought to himself. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose seeking to stem the flood of blood that gushed from his nose. He used to blood to write the last equations.

.Free-fall coordinates reveal that the Schwarzschild geometry looks like ordinary flat space, with the distinctive feature that space itself is flowing radially inwards at the Newtonian escape velocity

v = (2 G M / r)1/2 .

The infall velocity v passes the speed of light c at the horizon

John was lost in the swirling of the wormhole as it collapsed into the star that destroyed the dreadnaught. He felt his twin struggle with the extreme weakness that accompanies the sores and internal bleeding of intense radiation exposure. He touched his twin's mind where it too struggled with the knowledge that he was at the end of his rope and Aeryn would be left alone. He felt that despair and shared it's intensity.

MoyaJohn felt an indescribable sadness that he wouldn't ever see his radiant Sun again or touch her hair running his fingers through its fine curls or over her cheeks where she lay on one of Talyn's bunks that lined his corridors. John shook his head at these random thoughts that didn't belong in his world. His world was bereft of Aeryn. There was no warmth left, no love, no soul. These things he gave over to his twin unwillingly, just as unwillingly he was sharing TalynJohn's last moments. Together, the twins mouthed their mantra to Aeryn as she sat beside their prone body struggling for breath, "Don't worry about me, I've never felt better."

John shook his head and shivered as if someone just walked over his grave. He struggled with his pen in suddenly numb fingers.

The shell of exotic matter has negative mass and positive surface pressure. The negative mass ensures that the throat of the wormhole lies outside the horizon, so that travellers can pass through it, while the positive surface pressure prevents the wormhole from collapsing. While the notion of negative mass is certainly bizarre, the vacuum fluctuations near a black hole are exotic, so perhaps exotic matter is not utterly impossible.

Where b(r) determines the spatial shape of the wormhole, and Phi(r) determines the gravitational redshift. This solution has the property of having no horizons or excessive tidal forces to deal with which makes it safe for humans to travel through. But it does have one unfortunate drawback. In order to hold the throat open there has to be a negative energy density inside. Though electro-magnetic vacuum fluctuations are sometimes measured to have negative energy densities and are correspondingly called ``exotic''. In order to keep the wormhole open it needs to be threaded with exotic matter that will create a tension to push the walls apart.

There is a network of wormholes and black holes is known as the quantum foam. There are certain probabilities that wormholes will pop in and out of existence at this level. If we assume that we, or some other society, are sufficiently advanced that we can observe this quantum foam and manufacture exotic matter, then it might be possible to reach into this microscopic universe and capture a wormhole. By pouring exotic matter into it we might be able to blow it up to a macroscopic size. We would then be poised to embark on the greatest journey imaginable.

His work was done, the Ancient's gifts were complete. He knew how to call, manipulate, and travel the wormhole paths.

D'Argo, Chiana, and Jool found John lying comatose on the floor of the Center Chamber in a pool of blood that streamed from his ears, eyes, and nose.

(bibliography: Traversable WormholesTraversable; Whiteholes and Wormholes; and NASA Goes FTL)

Chapter 5-On Valldon

Chiana sat on the bench next to John's bed, her head cocked to the side, black eyes closed, listening to his light breathing. She sighed in sadness at the situation. It had been a weeken and there was no change in John's comatose state. It was as if his matra had left his body and was wandering. She had this weird feeling that only John's empty shell remained lying on the bed face pale and thin in the shadowed, lightless cell. She got up from her seat and stretched like a cat, her arms high over her head, her legs slightly bent at the knees and back arched. She was slightly hungry and thirsty and wondered where Jool was. She was supposed to relieve her in their continuous vigil. She leaned down and gently stroked John's slightly clammy forehead. His eyes bounced slightly behind his closed eyelids, but he made no other reaction to her caress. She didn't even realize that she sighed again.

Aeryn Sun sat on the window sill of the decrepit hotel on the wretched planet Valldon and wondered at the strange spirals of her life. She dropped another empty bottle of Raslak off the ledge and watched it slowly spin away down the many stories its faceted surfaces reflecting the light of the myriad signposts of the city creating rainbows and flashes to finally smash on the filthy pavement with a satisfying cascade of broken glass. She smiled slightly-her life reflected in every smashed shard. She leaned her head back against the open window sill and closed her eyes and took another swig out of another bottle.

Deep in her hotel room, among the graffiti layering its dingy walls, Talyn John stood silent. His rain-soaked face gazing quiet and calm at his lover. His blue track shirt was dripping with the rain of that phantom earth where they first consummated their growing passions. His hair sparkled in the dim blinking lights of the outside advertisements for palm readers, seers, visionaries, and other crackpots. His face was pale and serene, the scar over his right eye seemed to flare in the shifting glare. Beside him, looking lost and sad, stood MoyaJohn. He stood just as silently dressed in his favorite plaid flannel work shirt and blue jeans. His shoulders hunched in dejection, blood running from his nose and ears. He clenched his fists as he too gazed at his lost love. The two men sighed in unison and as one breathed, "It's Aeryn, always Aeryn." They turned away from each other yet always towards their shared love.

Aeryn turned to the two men, like mirror images in a fun house-one man in blue and the other in flannel-both with eyes so periwinkle they drew her into their shared love. She shook her head and whispered, "Why does it have to be so hard? Why does love have to feel like my heart has been torn into shards like that bottle of Raslak? We were so happy then you had to go and be a frelling hero. What gives you the right?"

TalynJohn raised his right arm, covered in the sores and redness of his final illness and touched his palm to the mirrored palm of his brother, MoyaJohn. MoyaJohn looked bewildered and pained as he starred at his twin. He said nothing, but his longing spoke volumes. TalynJohn nodded and slowly drew his lost soul into himself. TalynJohn and MoyaJohn sighed together as they arched their heads back in the pain of their merging souls-both the same equal and true except for the difference in experiences. John felt a wrenching deep within, a shifting and completion and knew that he had been empty, missing a piece of himself that he had now found again. Their images shimmered and shook with an eerie echoing until there was only one John Crichton standing drenched in the rains of Earth.

He stood stock still, his stance peaceful and spoke in steady tones, "You never know you're gonna die. I didn't know."

Jool wrung out the cloth she was using to wipe the sweat from John's face where he lay unmoving on his bed in his quarters on Moya. He sighed and rolled his head back and forth on the pillow, suddenly agitated. Jool drew back, startled at the sudden movement. "What are you thinking? Why don't you wake, you silly Human?" she whispered as she watched John arch his head back, his neck taunt with sudden stress. Just as suddenly, he smiled, his eyes beneath their closed lids steadied from their rolling, and relaxed into immobility once more. John's head lolled on the pillow, his mouth slightly open as saliva slowly dripped on to the shimmering golden sheets. The scar on his right brow seemed to glow under Moya's diffuse light.

Jool commed D'Argo and Chiana in panic, "You'd better get down here quickly. I think that farbot man just had a seizure of some sort and I need to get the life scanner. He shouldn't be alone. There is something really weird going on here. Hurry!" She screamed the last words, here hair a flaming red as she noticed the scar that hadn't been there a microt ago. Jool poked at John's chest but he never stirred. "Come on, John, wake up. Come back to us. I hate mysteries and you are one big one."

Aeryn Sun was having a really bad run of days. She had met her mother, thought she found her lost father only to loose him again in the dead body of a stranger. She turned to the Seer, that strange multi-bodied baby in the carrier and said, "Yes, I'll try again. What can you show me?"

The Seer waved his tiny arms in anxiety as he stared at the pale face and black black hair of the Sebecean female standing before him in her brown velvet dress and bewildered eyes. He closed his four eyes in his two faces and felt something that he had rarely felt, a true vision. He opened his eyes and said, "Touch me again and you can still save John Crichton. He is in danger." John's face swam hazily in the Seer's forehead, his eyes sad and downcast, his manner pensive. Aeryn moved closer to the dreadful creature and lightly touched his face.

Aeryn felt herself wrenched apart, as if a knife had torn her in two pieces. Yet she felt herself draw closer to John's form as it materialized in Pilot's den. He had lost the protection of his flannel earth shirt and stood alone and stripped down to his white undershirt. He turned to her apparition and smiled, saying quietly, "Hey, Babe."

Aeryn touched John's face with her spectral fingers and he turned his face and kissed each pad, finishing with her palm where it lay against his lips. He spoke quietly, "There's only you. I. Love. Aeryn. You're my reason for living and breathing." Aeryn smiled in recognition of his feelings and said to him, "And there is only John Crichton. You are my soul and life." She slowly dissipated in the glow of John's fever dream. He opened his eyes and smiled at D'Argo, Chiana, and Jool where they stood next to his bed. He whispered, "Hey guys. I had the weirdest dream..."

Chapter 6-Fractured Mirror

John sat in the twilight with his arm leaning on Moya's golden-copper table top in the Center Chamber, writing in his notebook by the orange filmy light of the nebula streaming through the front view screen. He periodically took a sip from the juice-like stuff he had found in the refrigeration unit. It was green, a putrid color, but it was cool and tart. The equations were flying into his notebook at an alarming rate. He could feel the wormholes curling around his brain as he mapped their formation and the beauty of their convolutions in time and space.

He paused and scratched the scar over his right eye with the tip of his pen. He still couldn't figure out how he had gotten it but figured it had happened while he was out for the count. D'Argo had told him about that newest emergency that almost fried Moya and how he had finally decoded his ship. He was sort of glad that he had missed the explosions, Moya's pain, and the race for recovery. Another frelled day on Moya. He smiled at the vision of the Princess purple up to her elbows in bat dren. Funny that it was the Qualta Blade that held the key.

He was glad that D'Argo had a new pet and hobby. He wished he could find his key-how to unlock Aeryn's heart. He had been having weird dreams, dreams of Aeryn and life on Talyn. Why did he see himself and Aeryn wrapped in each other? Why did he see red DRDs when he knew they were supposed to be yellow? Why could he still taste the salt of Aeryn's fingers as they gently stroked his lips? Why did he feel Aeryn's phantom lips on his and her fingers in his hair? He shook his head as phantom fingers ran their way across his chest and spine. Damn, the other had Aeryn and he had nothing. Stop dreaming, John. He returned to his notebook. Wormholes were more solid than his memories these days.

Aeryn sat ramrod straight on one of the smooth black benches in Talyn's mess hall. Her black leathers and vest blended in with the shiny surface of Talyn's table. The dim starlight streaming through the front view port reflected on her pale cheeks, illuminating their gauntness and the starkness of her tightly bound queue. She closed her eyes in pain, shutting out the beauty of the stars as well as the sympathetic glances of her crew-mates who had gathered there to share a meal. She barely ate these days since they had buried John Crichton's body on that speck of earth they had passed on their winding way back to Moya. Stark reached out to awkwardly pat Aeryn's hand where it rested on the table but she withdrew it sharply and glared at him. Her gaze said clearly that approaching her in her grief would be like approaching a female keedva protecting its young-all you'd get would be your head bitten off.

"We've found Moya. Talyn confirmed communication half and arn ago and we are expecting to rendezvous in approximately 20 arns," Crais announced quietly. "Aeryn, you don't have to go. Talyn and I would be honored if you continue on with us. You know you have a standing invitation."

Aeryn said nothing, just turned her head and gazed at the stars that held no light or wonder, just bitterness. Her thoughts were far away from that meal. They were still on Valdon where something strange happened. She could feel it on the edge of her memory. She could still feel his warm breath on her finger tips as they touched his lips and his whispered words of love. She could still see the ghost of her lover as he stood in that fekkik hotel room, limned by the light of glow bars. Were there one or two visitors to her those drunken days? Her memories were a haze of raslak and fellip nectar. All she remembers are the feelings of regret and anger at his heroism and her loss and that last glance of John as he turned away in his blue sweat jacket. Was it sadness and regret on his face at her decision to never love that way again? Aeryn shook the phantom memories of his final kiss to her ghostly palm out of her mind and cleared her throat.

"Thank you for your offer, Crais. Please tell Talyn that I am honored by his and your invitation, but I have to decline. I can't stay here. The memories are too difficult. I will go to Moya because I need to say goodbye. I am going to find a mercenary outfit where I can be of some help. I am finished with all this dren. I need to find a new start."

Rygel, Stark, and Crais looked at their friend, and there was sadness and understanding at difficult choices. They each were going their separate ways and closure was always difficult.

John stood in the Hanger Bay, hands on his hips and an expectant look on his face. He waved an acknowledgement to D'Argo as he stepped up to his right side never turning his head away from the hanger doors. He felt a confusing array of emotions from fear of rejection based on his knowledge of what he himself would have consummated to an intense excitement at seeing Aeryn again. He only hoped that things would work out with this unholy trinity on the ship together. He blew out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Nice shirt, John. Black is definitely your color," D'Argo said to cut the silence that lay heavy between the two men. "I'm glad to see you took my suggestion. John, seriously, just relax. It'll be what it'll be. You can't change anything."

John glanced at his friend and was about to respond when Pilot's voice broke through with an announcement of the imminent arrival of Talyn's transport. John re-tucked his t-shirt into his pants and stood straighter and tried to seem nonchalant as the hanger doors slowly opened.

Aeryn stood at the top of the transport's steps and looked down at where Crais and Rygel stood greeting their friends. She could see that the news had been conveyed about John's death by the sudden serious expressions on both D'Argo and Crichton's faces. Chiana and Jool were nowhere to be seen, which was a curious omission but she supposed they were avoiding the possible awkwardness of meeting the other John and Aeryn together. Well, they would be glad that her John was gone, wouldn't they so as to avoid the embarrassment of having to choose sides. She steeled her spine and straightened her shoulders and picking up the two duffle bags, headed slowly down the steps. She felt her breathing slow as time stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She glanced at D'Argo and nodded her head in acknowledgement and starred straight ahead to avoid Crichton's eyes which she felt boring into her forehead.

"Aeryn, long time no see," he spoke in a seemingly relaxed voice. John felt his innerds tremble as he heard himself say that inane phrase. His mind's eye was full of images of Aeryn—crying on his arms at the seeming death of Xhalax; laying her forehead on his own, a smudge of dirt left from his touch; smacking her behind as the drexim filled their minds with lust and love; pounding on the wall playing with Rygel as their minds filled with joy at being together; showing his guiding light her star; laying with his throat swollen, reddened face gasping with his final sickness as his dimming vision beheld her tear-filled eyes. He shook himself to clear these invasions while again wondering where these memories came from. The montage felt like it took hours, lingering, yet he realized as he looked back at Aeryn that she had barely moved from in front of him.

Aeryn said nothing and didn't even glance his way as she made her way past his startled form and out of the Hanger Bay, her back rigid and her gait long. John stood by himself in the same position for a long time after the others had left for their varying destinations.

Chapter 7

John slid down the bulkhead of the Hanger Bay until he hit bottom. He sat with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. "What an idiot!" He kept repeating to himself like a mantra. There she was, her John dead and he just says, "How ya been?" How stupid can a guy get. How insensitive. No wonder she said nothing as she passed.

A small voice whispered to him of pain, tears, the agony of leaving and not knowing, the need to finish. They would have gone to Earth…He would have gone to Earth…He felt that last deep kiss as if he could suck Aeryn's love into him to revive his dying body with her spirit. He felt her tears as she tried to laugh at one last desperate joke. He was there, right there with Aeryn gasping "Don't worry about me, I've never felt better."

John gasped and raised his head from his hands, tears streaming down his face where he sat with his back to Moya's warm bulkhead, her rumbling hum seeking to sooth his confusion. Chiana found him sitting there curled up in himself. She crouched down next to him and laid her hand on his damp scalp.

"Hey, old man, talk to me."

"Pip."

"You're the strongest person I know. Aeryn is grieving. D'ont take her dren to heart. She'll come around. Remember, lead with your heart. You'll win her back."

"Is that a vision of the future, Pip, or a wish for the present?" John looked at his friend, his bloodshot eyes staring desperately at her, hoping for some sort of resolution. "Pip, I-I 'm remembering the weirdest things that I-I've no business knowing. I-I don't know who I am any more." John mumbled into his knees. "I'm remembering them…me…us…hell I don't know!" He pounded the floor with his fist.

Chiana cocked her head to the side and leaned into John's shoulder, "Hey, there's gotta be a logical answer. We've learned that there's weird dren and we get caught in it more often than not, right? May-maybe you ARE remembering the other one. M-m maybe you both are connected in some way. Maybe there IS no clone. Remember what Jool said. You both are identical, the same, no difference. Maybe that's why you feel so strange. H-he died and you lost something too that's trying to get back." Chiana lay her chin on John's shoulder and stroked his chest with her grey fingers as she thought about her terrible fears when she was twinned and that shuddering tearing feeling when that scabrous insane scientist killed her. She closed her eyes and sighed at her continued confusion about that other. "It'll be alright, old man."

Chiana reached out and grabbed John's hand and pulled him up from the floor. "Come on, let's get something to eat before Rygel grabs it all."

John squeezed her hand and quietly kissed her head in silent thanks for her wisdom and hope.

John found his duffle bag on his cot when he returned to his quarters after a quick meal with Chiana. He approached it slowly, almost fearing what he knew was in the bag-his stuff…our stuff…the other's stuff…no dammit, my stuff. He unzipped the bag and began to methodically empty it. He caressed his soft leather-like coat remembered walking on commerce planets with Aeryn by his side his hand in hers their coats swinging in unison as they strolled slowly enjoying each other's company. He found the neatly folded t-shirts and remembered teasing her about how she stretched them out when she rapidly pulled one off to hasten their lovemaking. He threw the interesting new environmental suit on the bed for later study. His hands felt the smooth cold hardness of Winnona where she lay in her holster. He drew her out and studied the new pits and dents in her surface, remembering the hammering on that jungle planet and his battle with the Colartas and Crais there. He remembered Dam-Ba-Ta and shooting her until she over-heated from exhaustion and still the critters continued to come at them. He remembered the sweat and sand and exhaustion. He remembered the yucky kiss delivered by that huckster mechanic Furlow. He remembered Jack. He remembered Aeryn and their desperation. He exchanged his current pistol for his Winnona and continued to reach into the bag as his confusion grew. He knew that he was the one left, the one by himself with nothing of his own, left on Moya to work on wormholes and hide his pain in alcohol and stupid situations, and yet, and yet, he remembered.

Then he lay hands on something strange. He pulled out Stark's mask. Touching it, he felt an intense flash as an avalanche of thoughts invaded his mind. He remembered everything-every word, every touch, every emotion, every pain, every scratch, every scream, every laugh, everything from them, from him. He raised his hands and stared at fingers that seemed alien and he gently reached up and fingered the scar on his right temple. He knew now what Stark had done in those last moments when John had placed the Banik's hand back on his forehead. He shuddered as he settled back into his skin, as if trying on clothes that were stiff with their newness. He felt weak at the knees, yet invigorated. He was unique again.

He knew why the other John did what he did. He knew the sacrifice and knew that he would have done the same, would do the same. Wormhole technology must be protected and Jack's death must not be in vain. He felt whole, connected, loved. John smiled wistfully, now if he could only convince Aeryn.

John found Aeryn as she was carting heavy containers and hoisting them into the storage compartment of her prowler. She grunted as she struggled to lift the next box in the pile over her head. Sweat ran into her eyes and she failed to see his arrival. She heard those unique footsteps as they approached her. They sounded different, more confident than the diffident foot falls of the clone, the other John, not her John. She shivered as she listened to soft squeak of his soles on Moya's metallic yet soft flooring. Dropping her load, she turned to face him. There was an apparition-a ghost-her John standing there in the long leather coat, hands on his leather-clad hips above the gun belt, staring at her with a small grin on his face. It was impossible, John was dead, buried on that lonely rock. This was a hallucination, a phantom of her deepest desires. No, not real. She turned away, saying nothing and wishing with all her might to banish this dream so she could slip back into her current reality of stoic warrior calm. She would be strong and would not succumb to this fantasy.

John cleared his throat as he watched her turn. He could understand her confusion, yet was completely at a loss at what to say that would convince her that he was John Crichton, whole and complete-her lover. "Aeryn, what are you doing? You've barely arrived back. Stay. I need to tell you something." John approached her slowly and reached out and grabbed her shouldered, turning her towards him so that she could see his face. "I am John Crichton," he said quietly. "One and indivisible. There is only me. Only us. Somehow, someway I am him and he is me. Stay, please."

"No, you died. You are dead. Ghosts do not come back. Ghosts stay dead. Go away. Let me alone. I need to leave. I need to find a new life. One that doesn't contain crazy humans who return from the dead to tear out my heart once again with their notions of compassion, love, honor, and sacrifice. I am going and you cannot stop me."

"I'm coming with you then. We promised each other we wouldn't leave each other ever again. You promised when that dren was over that you would come with me to earth. I'm saying now that i'll go anywhere with you. You pick the place and I'll come. Baby, I'd be lost without you. Stay or go, I'm coming too."

"No! He said those words. He is dead and gone, buried. My world lies in ashes. I have to build another. You are not him. You are dead, a ghost, a wraith meant to haunt me. Goodbye John Crichton." She turned and threw herself into the cockpit and reached up and slammed the hatch closed in his face. She could see his eyes, those blue orbs glisten with tears, melting in the haze of her side view ports. She started pre-flight checks, gazing at the control dials and signal lights through the film of her own tears.

John backed away from the now smoking prowler as it turned towards the Hanger Bay doors. He dimly heard Pilot's voice as he gave clearance to the ship as well as the symbiot's own sad farewells. He backed his way out of the hanger and into the Maintenance bay, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't believe that she actually left. He was not a ghost, or maybe he was. He hit the wall of the bay and slid down. He cradled his head in his arms. His life was ashes now. There was nothing left but duty. He would finish the task. All he had now were wormholes. That was all that was left.

Chapter 8

John Crichton stood with his arms leaning on the front console in Command looking out into the orange and yellow glow of a huge nebula the filled the front view port. The gasses and proto-stars flowed amidst unseen black holes and the floatsum and getsum of creation and John saw none of it. His thoughts were far away on a small metal basket of death and destruction and its sole inhabinant who had run away from his heart. He sighed and went back to his equations and calculations. He had his goals and thinking of his loss wasn't going to solve the problem of Scorpius and his wormhole reserach.

D'Argo stood at the hatchway to Command watching his friend who was lost in more ways than one. John hadn't spoken more than one or two words a day for the past monen since Aeryn had left. He simply told his crewmates what the other John had wanted to accomplish and what was left to do and left it to them to agree or disagree at their leisure. He didn't seem to care one way or another. D'Argo suspected more than just Aeryn leaving had affected his friend but he couldn't put his finger on what was different. There was a confidence and directedness to John that wasn't there previously. John seemed more like he was before the twinning but sadly without his farbot humor. D'Argo snorted in frustration at John's stubborness and his refusal to share his plans. He shook his head, tankas flying and went to relieve John and begin his own vigil on Command, lost in his own memories of betrayal and renewal.

"John, get some sleep. You look like dren."

"D'Argo, I'm fine. Goodnight."

D'Argo watched him as he ambled out of Command going who knows where, but definitely not to his quarters and bed. He shook his head one more time and turned to look at the amazing vision of rebirth playing out around Moya.

Aeryn Sun reported to the Medical Center at 0500 arns to receive the results of her request for an analysis of the fetus found to be in stasis. She quietly smiled at the results and then quickly returned to her previous perfect soldier mien before the Med Tech saw her reaction. Aeryn sighed mentally, pocketed the data chip; and after thanking the Tech, turned smartly and walked briskly back to her quarters to resume the task of cleaning her weapons and getting prepared for her next assignment. She would not act on the news of who the father of her fetus was and she would not turn back to the past. It was over. Done with. There was nothing back there for her. He was dead and buried. She kept repeating that mantra over and over, but it echoed hollowly in her heart that knew differently. No, she would not act.

Chiana found John where she expected, working on his module. She sidled up to him and pressing her breasts into his back reached around his shoulders where they leaned against Farscape's hull, she hugged him to her. "Hey, old man," she whispered, "Don't 'cha ever sleep anymore?"

"Pip," John replied without much enthusiasm, "Don't 'cha have any other human to bother?"

"Nope. Only this farbot one," she replied, ready to play his games. "Haven't seen much of you lately. We're coming up on a commerce planet in a few arns and I wanted to know if you wanted to come and get a little action. This boat is getting boring."

"Nope, go on ahead, Pip. I have work here." John shook off her arms and returned to fiddling with the interior of his ship. He never looked at her. His voice was soft and distracted, painful.

John serepticiously watched Chiana as she made her way out of the Maintenance Bay. His mind was deep into plans for how to bring down Scorpy-Sue's experiments. He remembered now how to make the displacement engine used to bring down the dreadnought and he figured that the same machine would be perfect symmetry if he used it to also take out the command carrier housing Scorpy's wormhole research. He just had to find out where the carrier was parked, play meter maid and give that guy the biggest parking ticket of his life. "Pilot!" he called, "Get Crais on the blower, pronto!"

"Commander, Captain Crais and Talyn are getting ready to leave and Talyn has shut down comms in preparation for starburst."

"I don't care if he is busy getting ready to fly off for their honeymoon, figure out a way to contact them, please, Pilot, it is really important."

"Very well, Commander. I will try. It will take a few microts."

"Thank you, Pilot."

John returned to his plans, but was interrupted shortly by Pilot's voice on his comms.

"Commander, Captain Crais is on band number 2 and is very very annoyed at the interruption."

"Crais, I need your super-spy James Bond help here," John spoke rapidly, remembering how their alliance grew on Talyn, "We worked together on Dam-Ba-Da as a team in spite of your's and Talyn's blinding. I need your help again. Find out where Scorpy's carrier is located for me, will ya?"

Crais stood on Talyn's Command and for the first time in his life was totally flummoxed. He heard Crichton's request and he readily agreed that Scorpius had to be taken down, but he was at a complete loss as to how Crichton knew of the events on Dam-Ba-Da and his subsequent help luring the dreadnought to its death. He shook his head and compartmentalized his confusion before responding, "I will attempt to find out this information. What do you have in mind?"

"Need to know basis, Crais, need to know only. Just find out the location, okay? Crichton, out."

"Frelling human," Crais thought not for the first time, "Talyn, send out a subspace message encoded Velka 10 to Lieutenant Chalmas. It is time she paid up on her obligations."

Aeryn hunkered down next to the charred remains of a wall. Her face was smudged with the soot from the many fires that still burned on the battlefield that used to be a pretty town. She was tired and thirsty and her side ached where a pulse blast had grazed her hip. She sighed and looked at her teammate. Trenn handed her a canteen of water and leaned back against the wall. He knew that the quiet was just a lull between battles. The whole plan was frelled from the start. It was supposed to be an easy assignment, get in, kill the bad guy and get out again after destroying certain data that was detrimental to the Sebecean race. The problem was that when the arrived at the target location, the target had already been secured and the data was gone. Trenn shook his head at the terrible cost.

Aeryn glanced at her commanding officer and nodded her head in silent agreement. The entire strike team was dead except for herself and Trenn. It was all a setup. She felt drained and empty. Nothing she did worked anymore. Everything she touched died. She had been thinking a lot about Moya and John Crichton as each assignment with her unit turned more and more bloody and pointless. She looked back at Trenn and took another swallow of the tepid water. "I received a comm signal a few microts ago. There'll be no backup or reinforcements. Command feels this place is too hot. We're on our own."

Trenn sighed and looked down at his hands. "Officer Sun, you are a loyal soldier and it has been a pleasure serving with you. I release you from your oath of service to this unit. Go find Moya and your friends. I know you want to. There is no honor left here."

"Milon Trenn, we have become friends as well as fellow officers. I think in this situation we are beyond formality. You risked your life to save mine back there and I owe you for that and for your ready ear to my sad story. I won't leave you. Let's find a transport and get the hezmana out of here before the soldiers return. We can't hold them off. This place is indefensible."

Milon Trenn looked at his friend and then down at his hands where they continued to clutch his stomach. He shivered and suddenly keeled over. Blood ran out of his open mouth and his eyes had the glazed look of death. Aeryn shook her head at his quiet bravery then silently bent over and touched his neck where the parapheral nerve pulse no longer beat. She sighed and straightened up. Another death on her conscience. And she was alone with her thoughts and sorrows once again.

John stood in Pilot's den, his arms on his hips as he faced the giant purple crustacean who so loyally guided the living ship. Pilot's arms moved automatically, checking the multitude of signals that kept Moya stable and her passengers safe. He looked at John and stated quietly, "Commander, although Captain Crais has given us the coordinates to the command carrier I must protest your request to rendezvous with it. Moya is quite frightened of being captured again and also of having anything to do with wormholes."

"Pilot, please do this for me. The other John died to keep wormhole technology away from the Scarrens. I have a duty to his memory to keep wormhole technology away from the Peacekeepers. I promise I won't place Moya in any danger. Please take use to the carrier. I'll do the rest."

Pilot looked into John's face and lowered his eyes down to his claws that continued to work the various levers and gauges. Pilot sighed and nodded his acquiescence. "Moya and I will take you to the carrier and we will stay to help you defeat Scorpius. You are right, Commander, we should honor his memory."

John grasped Pilot's claw and squeezed it once. Pilot looked at the human as he strode out of the den and shook his head. "Yes, Moya, John Crichton is a brave man and we hope he stays safe."

John scratched his scar and watched and listened as D'Argo continued to rant at him. They had been at this argument for over two arns and it was wearing very thin. D'Argo looked at Chiana and Jool where they sat around the strategy table in Command as if seeking their agreement, "John, your plan is farbot as usual and I will not agree to such a plan," D'Argo yelled. "Why could you not share with us before you unilaterally had Pilot rendezvous with that frelling carrier. I would never have agreed to such a dangerous scheme."

"That's why I didn't tell you, D'Argo," John stated for the ten or hundredth time. "It is my time and my plan. You all are not involved. I am going to take the displacement engine I built. I am going to install it on my module and I am going to create my own wormhole bomb and blow Scorpy's research to kingdom come. What is there to understand or agree with?"

Chiana tried a different tactic, "Crichton, you are being a complete fekkik about this. What makes you think we wouldn't have helped? We have beefs with Scorpy too. Why do you have to be a long arranger?"

John looked nonplused a second, then shook his head and said, "Pip, it's "lone ranger" and you don't understand the reference, so don't try that with me. It won't work. Look, I destroyed the dreadnought to keep the Scarrens away and Jack died. I don't want you guys to die because of my actions. This is my fight. You keep Moya safe. Okay?"

D'Argo, Chiana, and Jool looked at their human crewmate with complete shock. "John, what do you mean, you destroyed the dreadnought? You were here with us. It was the other who did that," Jool stated.

"No, Jool. It was me and I and he, and us. We are one and the same. I am him. I tried to tell Aeryn that and she wouldn't hear it. Now I'm just gonna act on it. I owe us big time. For Aeryn."

Pilot's face appeared in the "clamshell" and his voice was agitated as he stated, "Commander, we are being hailed by the command carrier from extreme range."

"Calm down, Pilot. It's show time. Open hailing frequencies, Uhura. Put them on the viewing screen, Sulu."

"Unknown Leviathan, you are entering a secure area. Please leave now or prepare to be boarded."

"Hello to the command carrier. This is John Crichton, astronaut, fugitive, clown, and wormhole magician extraordinnare. I was wondering if Scorpy would like a sample of what can be done with wormholes? You think you have the secret to rule the stars, but you don't and I do. You have two arns to evacuate your ship or you will be destroyed along with it. This research is at an end." John's eye gleamed maniacally. The others stepped back from the human. It was not safe, they learned from long experience, to get in his way when he was in this mood.

There was silence on the comms for several microts, but the quiet on Command was suddenly broken by Scorpius' visage as he starred menacingly, saying, "John Crichton, I knew you would come calling eventually. Have you come to assist me in finding a weapon that can stop the pending war with the Scarrens? What is this I hear about evacuating my ship? Are you making threats? We are on the same side. We don't have to be enemies. Come combine your knowledge with mine."

"Nothing doing Scorpy. Do you see that big blue funnel in front of your carrier. I'm going to take you and anyone who is left aboard your ship down to Oz. I will not let you have wormhole technology. There are other ways to stop the war than using this weapon. You have one and one half arns to evacuate. I suggest you use that time wisely and get off the phone."

John looked at his crew-mates seemingly one last time and turned and ran out of Command. He knew he had to install the device and prep his module and be out in front of the wormhole by the time that those life pods left the carrier. He could not give Scorpy time to prime his frag cannons and aim at Moya. "Guys and Pilot, please starburst to safety the minute my module leaves. I do not want you anywhere near that wormhole when it blows. Leave me a buoy and I'll find you later. Please get to safety. Promise me."

Aeryn lifted her duffle bag on her shoulder and then heaved it into her prowler. She stood next to its open hatch and absent-mindedly wiped her brow with her gloved hand. She had officially taken leave after delivering Trenn's body back to base. She had met with the new commander, a woman she had learned to trust with her life. She had been thoroughly debriefed. There was no use in staying to watch the internal review that would locate and negate the traitor in their midst. The rebels would be safe.

Aeryn stepped into her prowler still deep in thought as she instinctively ran the pre-flight check. She didn't know what she was or what her purpose was any more. She couldn't sleep and she barely ate. She had realized during the long silent voyage back from that hell where her comrades had died, that she really did love John Crichton. She finally recalled his last words and slammed herself repeatedly for not truly hearing him the moment he said them. He was one and unique, indivisible. Valldon was real and she had abandoned him to run off on some idealistic dream that ended in horror and more deaths. All was ashes and she hoped he would take her back. She needed his hope. She wanted to be more again. She would try and find Moya. She would honor Trenn's wish and her deep need. And the baby would have a father.

John snapped the final bolt that attached the displacement engine on to his module. He opened his comms and tapped once to ensure that they were broadcasting. "Pilot, would you please have Moya open the Hanger doors. I'm ready now. Please fly safe and I'll find you guys later. Okay?" John guided Farscape 1 out of Moya and excellerated out towards the wormhole where it flowed and circled in front of the command carrier.

Thousands of small lights flickered from the life pods as they exited the huge carrier. D'Argo watched sadly as they lit up the starry expanse with each hetch jet flare. John was really going to do it again. Frelling hero has to do it alone and there was nothing he could do about it. "Pilot, prepare to starburst the minute John starts his run on the wormhole."

"Ka D'Argo, Moya and I have decided to remain here and wait for Commander Crichton. We cannot abandon him."

"Pilot, I totally agree and I'm sure Chiana and Jool do as well. Thank Moya for her bravery."

John maneuvered Farscape 1 to begin the ten passes around the mouth of the wormhole that would guide it with the assistance of the displacement engine into the path of the star that created this system. He quietly whispered in an echo of the last time, "Jack and John, this one's for you." He felt enormous pressure as he flicked the switch that turned on the engine. "Okay displacement engine, start displacing." He knew the other smiled inside at hearing these words. All was right with his world. He would do this thing and finish his life as his twin had, a hero. Aeryn was gone and he had no reason to continue without her. He would just follow the path into the wormhole. He could feel the blue expanse twist with each circumnavigation of his craft. The star's immense gravity well pulled at the wormhole's funnel. One more turn and he would be finished, for good.

D'Argo, Chiana, and Jool stood in Command and watched the firey inferno as it sucked the now empty command carrier down its gullet. Suddenly, D'Argo spotted John's module, a white speck in the hellish light of the disintegrating carrier. "John, what are you doing?" He cried.

"D'Argo!" Pilot's voice called on his comms, "A prowler has requested to dock with Moya. I believe it is Officer Sun."

"Let her board, Pilot! I'll be down as soon as I can." D'Argo yelled into his comms as he sprinted from Command.

"John, abort, abort now!" D'Argo, Jool, and Chiana cried in unison. "Aeryn is back. She is on board Moya. Come home!"

John starred dreamily at the huge firey hurricane in his front port. He had turned his engines off and was using the huge gravity well to suck his module along with the carrier into the furnace. He had no regrets when his comms lit up with D'Argo and his other friend's pleas. "Whaa?" He exclaimed. "Aeryn!" John sat up sharply as the full import of the message hit his tired and depressed mind. "Guys I have a problem here. I have no time to turn on the engines. You gotta come get me. Save my ass. Okay. I'll be good, I promise, just get me back there."

As Moya turned towards the maelstrom, her docking web caught the small module just before it could be consumed by the wormhole weapon John Crichton had built. Aeryn was waiting at the hanger doors when John entered the Bay. There was much to be said but words were not needed. There was time now.

Epilogue

John blew the hatch and jumped from his module the minute it landed on Moya's deck. His heart was beating rapidly as he panted out his anxiety. He had almost totally lost it there in the end, drifting as he was into the maelstrom of negative energy. He remembered his feeling of loneliness and loss and why he made his decision, but it was truly a stupid one on a cosmic scale. Damn, boy, you are one dumb jock. What were you thinking? There is always hope. He was frelling lucky nobody listens to him on this boat. Only Moya's quick catch had saved him and he was grateful. "Pilot!" he called. "Thanks, man. I don't know what got into me there. Please tell Moya I am truly grateful for her Johnny Bench there at the end. I thought I was a goner."

"Commander, I am not quite certain, as usual, what you are saying, but we get the gist and you are most welcome. Aeryn Sun has recently docked and is waiting for you in Maintenance Bay Nine on the hammond side." Pilot smiled to Moya in anticipation of their rendezvous.

Aeryn, what to do about Aeryn. Was she here to stay? Did she really want him or only the ghost of things past? Would he be yesterday, or could he be tomorrow? There was only one way to find out and that was to bite the bullet and meet her head on. He was so frelling tired of this feeling of being second best. He remembered all of their life on Talyn and he knew what she felt, what he felt, what they had together. He and him had experienced it. There was no difference. He had to make her see that.

John approached the hatch to Maintenance Bay Nine, but hesitated before passing his hand over the door control. He took a deep breath and blew it out. He was so damn tired. He felt like he had run three iron man marathons in a row. He needed her. He stepped into the room and faced her where she stood leaning against her Prowler. She looked exactly like he pictured her. Her hair was in slight disarray from its tight regulation queue. Her leather vest was zipped securely and framed her lithe body leaving nothing to the imagination. He sighed and stood still.

Aeryn looked up and saw John where he stood in the entrance. He looked tired. Dark patches circled his blue eyes and his hair was standing up in all directions. He had dirt smudges on his right cheek accenting the small scar that frowned over his eye brow. He looked beautiful to her. She looked down and then up and directly into his eyes. She smiled hesitantly. "Hey," she said.

"Hey, yourself."

"I heard that you finally made a plan go right," Aeryn said with a small smile quirking her face. "Scorpius won't be pursuing wormhole research for quite awhile. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, mamma Crichton's baby boy did something right," John replied, a small smile gracing his face and up into his eyes.

Aeryn grinned and walked closer to John. She reached out and lightly touched the scar over his eye. She looked at her finger and then back at his face. "John, I was wrong. I…couldn't hear what you wanted to tell me. I thought I had lost the one thing in the world that made me whole. Only, I discovered something. I love John Crichton. It doesn't matter who he is or was or will be. What I mean is… You and he are…"

"Baby, you don't have to say it. I know you needed that time away. I know you were hurting from my death. I'm here now. I love you and I always will."

John blindly grabbed Aeryn with both his hands and sunk his face in her hair. He stroked, kissed, and hugged her closely to him as she responded in kind. Their fierce need to touch and ensure their reality overcame gravity, time, and space. They shuddered and sank down to Moya's deck as their intense emotions overcame them. Each felt finally whole and at home.

A say's he's glad to be here, b's chasing storms in the lightning state, Where everyday above ground is a good day, and life is great. A's got a cocaine body, b's got a benylin brain, A knows he's gonna be some body, b don't believe in fame.

And all our time slips away

A's got a girl for each season, b's got a mail order bride, A knows he's headed for salvation, b's afraid to die. If hell is in the detail, babe, i'm a microscope, I know i'll live to see you swinging, given enough rope.

And all our time slips away

A's growing tired of conversation, he's ready for his final scene, B's whistling hotel california, and still living out the dream. Here we are together, let's roll the dice just one more time, Odd number says we walk away now, even says we die ...don't wanna die.

And all our time slips away And all our time slips away

By Tom Mcrae