TITLE: The Browder Strikes Back Again: More Froonium Fic
SUMMARY: To quote John-as-Larraq: 'You don't WANT to know...'
NOTES: This was never meant to be a series, but, well, if you people will go on asking for a sequel...;) Besides which, I got to see WGFA and realised that da Froon got off mighty lightly last time...
As before, any similarity to co-executive evil geniuses or devastatingly handsome (still (c) CB) male leads is entirely intentional. But don't sue me, OK?
SPOILERS: Big fat ones for Won't Get Fooled Again. Please please please don't read this if you ain't seen WGFA yet, cos I would hate to think I spoilt it for anyone. Oh, and I suppose if you haven't read 'The Browder Strikes Back' this is going to be pretty much incomprehensible...
THANKS: To the gorgeous Sorlk-Lewis (and her good friend and mine, UPS) and the equally gorgeous chipper, to all you lovely feedback people, and, of course, to Ben and Froon. Sorry, guys, and remember I still love you really...:)
FEEDBACK: to uktechgirl@scape-goat.com
OK, people, on with the fic...
The setting: some place in some big ole country called the USA. Apparently located in some weird place called 'RL'.
Locked in a sweaty, darkened room sits a familiar-looking blond man wearing a brightly-coloured Australian Mambo shirt. The only breach in the darkness comes from a glowing computer screen on the desk before him; by its light we can see him twirling his evil moustache, deep in thought.
He reaches forward to grab another forkful of birthday cake from the plate beside the keyboard, but before he can get it to his mouth, the phone rings.
'Yotz,' mutters Froon, as the piece of cake lands on the keyboard and little bits of icing get wedged between 'A' and 'Z'. Picking up the biggest chunk of cake he can see, he seizes the phone crossly and barks out a hello, before shoving the cake into his mouth.
The voice at the other end of the line makes him jump a second time, and he nearly chokes, coughing and scattering crumbs and more icing over the keyboard. He tries vainly to brush the mess away, and looks with surprise at the jumble of letters which appear on the screen.
'So THAT'S how Monj came up with the name 'T'raltixx'', he mumbles through the mouthful of cake.
The voice on the line starts up again, louder this time. Still coughing, Froon hastily swallows and manages to croak out a few words.
'No, no, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm fine. Really.'
The voice burbles in his ear again, and Froon laughs nervously, still a little short of breath.
'Sorry, Mr Kemper, what did you say?'
There is a pause, and the colour drains entirely from Froon's face. Reaching quickly for the mouse, he closes the window marked '#farscape', and opens up a word document.
'Season Three, Mr Kemper?' he says anxiously, scanning the screen. 'Oh, yes, sir, it's going very well at the moment. Very well indeed.'
The word document finally opens. At the top of the page are the words
'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE
EPISODE ONE: TITLE: ???'.
The rest of the page is completely blank.
'Oh, yes, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm sure the SACCers will have a thing or two to say,' Froon says, clearing his throat and swallowing hard as the voice on the other end of the line continues.
'Script meeting in two days, you say,' Froon says, running a sweaty hand through his hair. 'And Rock's gonna be there too?'
The voice rumbles in Froon's ear.
'Oh, no, no, Mr Kemper, sir,' says Froon, his nervous laugh bordering on hysterical, 'I'm looking forward to it already.'
With a shaky hand he replaces the receiver, and spends a few moments staring blankly and hopelessly at the screen. Sighing, he closes the document and opens up another, entitled 'FARSCAPE SEASON TWO: FINAL EPISODE CLIFFHANGER'.
'OK,' he says to himself under his breath, 'Let's see where we left them. Right, John was just about to...'
[THE NEXT THREE PARAGRAPHS HAVE BEEN CENSORED BY TPTB.]
'Phew,' says Froon, scratching his head. 'DK was right, the SACCers are gonna kill us. And I have no idea how I'm going to get John out of [CENSORED] before [CENSORED] and Chiana and Rygel [CENSORED]. Not to mention that scene with Scorpius [CENSORED] D'Argo [CENSORED] cherry pie.'
Froon drums his fingers on the desk and twirls his moustache again, hoping it will inspire thoughts appropriate to an evil genius. Before he can fully settle into his depraved trance, however, there is a loud knocking at the front door.
'Frooooooon! Oh, FROOOOOOONNNYYYYYY!' yells a familiar voice.
'Oh, no,' breathes Froon, 'not again.' Sighing heavily, he rises from his chair and goes to the front door. Through the frosted glass panels in the door he can make out a vague figure dressed in black, and apparently carrying a large cardboard box.
'Open the door, Froon, I got something for ya,' says Ben, seeing Froon appear through the frosted glass. He holds up the box, sounding over-excited.
Froon shakes his head. 'Err, thanks, Ben, but I'm a little busy right now, OK? Maybe some other time?'
Ben sighs, shakes his head, and looks down at the little West Highland terrier at his feet.
'Don't worry, Toto,' he says softly, a manic light shining in his eye. 'I'll make him pay, you'll see.'
Ben grins and leans forward, pressing his face up against the door and letting his nose get all squished up against the glass. Froon shudders slightly and backs away from the door.
'C'mon, Froon, lemme in! I brought you a birthday present!' He holds up the box for Froon to see and shakes it, still grinning.
Froon continues to back away from the door, shaking his head slowly.
Ben's face abruptly disappears from the frosted glass, and he bends down, flicking the letterbox open with his thumb. As he bends over, he becomes dimly aware of sound and movement behind him, as if hordes of young ladies had suddenly appeared from behind the parked cars along the street and started wolf-whistling.
Frowning, Ben straightens up and looks over his shoulder, but the street is empty.
He bends down again, and out of the corner of his eye sees the same vague movement, this time accompanied by what sounds like the word 'leather!' repeated several times. Shrugging, he decides to ignore it, and prods the letterbox open again, sticking his face into the hole.
'Yo, Froon, what up?' he yells, grinning madly at the cowering figure in the hallway.
'Umm...hello, Ben,' says Froon, tentatively. Then he frowns, staring hard at Ben's face.
'What?' demands Ben, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
'Err...the beard, Ben,' answers Froon, hesitantly.
'What about the beard?' says Ben crossly.
'Well...I thought you were going to shave it off.'
Ben eyes Froon suspiciously, and then breaks into a knowing smile. 'I knew it!' he yells triumphantly.
'Umm...knew what, Ben?' says Froon slowly, wondering where this is going.
'You've been trying to get me to shave this off since I grew it, haven't you, Froony? And now I know why!' Ben tries to poke a finger through the letterbox to waggle it knowingly at Froon, but the flap snaps shut on it and Ben yelps, disappearing for a moment.
Froon waits patiently for the muffled howling outside to stop. Eventually Ben's face reappears through the flap, looking grumpy.
'Yeah, Froon, now I too know the power of the beard,' says Ben, sucking on his wounded finger. 'It's kind of obvious, really.'
'OK, Ben, let's hear it,' says Froon, with a long-suffering sigh.
'See, Rock's got a beard, right?' Ben's face has brightened, and he looks at Froon expectantly. Froon nods, slowly, sighing.
'And Brian's got a beard,' Ben continues. 'And you've got a moustache. It's like Samson and Delilah, right? The source of all your evil genius abilities is facial hair!'
Froon frowns at Ben sadly, shaking his head again. 'Ben...' he begins, but is cut off by the sound of loud barking from outside.
'All right, Toto,' says Ben, his face again disappearing from the slot of the letterbox for a moment. There is a sound of tape being torn off cardboard, and then Ben's face reappears, accompanied by a very big grin.
'As Toto here has very kindly reminded me, Froon, I came here for a reason. I have a few little gifts for you.'
Froon gulps at the sounds of rummaging coming from outside, and flinches when Ben reappears, holding a pair of red stilettos.
'Yours, Froon?' says Ben with a wicked grin, posting them through the letterbox with some difficulty.
Froon clears his throat. 'Actually, they weren't in the script, Ben. Lani just wanted to...umm...explore his character.'
'Get out of town,' mutters Ben with a wide-eyed smirk, as he reaches back into the box at his feet. 'Lemme see: what have we here? Oh yeah! Complete works of Sigmund Freud!'
A dog-eared book thumps onto the mat, and falls open at the section marked 'Oedipus Complex'.
Froon steps forward and picks up the book, his expression changing from suspicious panic to genuine concern.
'Umm, Ben, the whole 'John's mom' thing...' he says uncertainly, trying not to meet Ben's eye.
Ben narrows his eyes at Froon. 'Yuhuh.'
Froon shuffles his feet, still avoiding his eye.
Ben keeps watching him. 'That was pretty harsh, Froon,' he says, slowly.
Froon stares at the floor guiltily.
'But...' says Ben, glancing around as if embarrassed. 'Well...it was...kind of heart-stoppingly great television.'
There is a moment's silence, before Froon breaks into a big silly grin which is only slightly tinged with relief.
'Hey, Ben, I knew you'd...' Froon begins, still smiling, but Ben cuts him off.
'Whoa, put the brakes on, Admiral,' says Ben, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. 'There's a little matter we haven't quite resolved yet.'
Froon frowns for a moment, confused, while Ben reaches down into the box again. He reappears, grimacing, with a small jar filled with some kind of clear goo. Unscrewing the lid, he tips the jar up and empties the goo all over Froon's doormat, and then grins.
'What is THAT?' says Froon in a small voice, looking genuinely quite perturbed.
'Ahh, just some Hynerian body fluids, Froon,' says Ben, the grin widening at the horrified look on Froon's face. 'Ya made me kiss him again, Froon,' he says, shaking his head.
'You got to kill him, too,' says Froon breathlessly, stepping back in case the goo gets anywhere near him.
'Ohhhh, no,' says Ben, starting to look slightly crazy. 'As I recall, that's not all that happened.'
He posts a whip and some very small bondage gear through the letterbox and raises his eyebrows pointedly at Froon.
Froon gulps. 'Oh, c'mon, Ben, you enjoyed that scene really,' he says, in a wheedling voice.
Ben shakes his head firmly.
'Come on, you must have enjoyed SOME of it,' says Froon, raising his eyebrows.
Ben goes on shaking his head, then stops to think, and sighs.
'Well, I guess I got to see Claudia in a new light. Not to mention Virg and Gigi...'
Ben's eyes cloud over as he drifts off on the memory, smiling to himself. Then he catches himself, and wags a finger at Froon through the letterbox, rather cautiously this time.
'Ahh, nice try, Mister Distraction, but you can't get round me that easy,' says Ben, fixing Froon firmly by the eye. 'The fact remains that you took the opportunity to have the whole of the rest of the cast snog each other - and all I got was Rygel. AGAIN.'
Froon looks at him blankly, and then hunkers down and leans forward, looking around as if there were some strange presence above him watching these events unfold.
'Hey, Ben,' he hisses in a loud stage whisper. 'Maybe you should remind the author of this fic not to use so much Britslang...apparently it confuses the natives.'
Ben looks mildly put out. 'Hey, I'm allowed, I married one - who, by the way, YOU have never written a part for,' he says, also in a stage whisper.
'Oh, whatever,' says Froon crossly, before straightening and clearing his throat. 'So, where were we?' he says as if nothing untoward has occurred.
'Well, gee, goshdarnit, y'all, but I don't rightly know, I'm sure,' says Ben, fluttering his eyelashes.
Froon rolls his eyes and gives Ben a stern look. Ben looks chastened and coughs apologetically. There is a pause, and Froon looks hopefully at his watch.
'Wait up,' says Ben, staring hard at Froon, a small smile on his face. 'I'm not done. See, you didn't just make me play tonsil hockey with the slug, didya? Oooh, no. No, this time, I had to DIE! That's twice now, Froon.'
'Hey, c'mon, the first time wasn't me!' says Froon, holding up his hands defensively.
'Yeah, but it was a whole lot more fun waking up when Monj did it,' grumbles Ben.
'C'mon, Ben, I didn't really kill you,' says Froon, in a placatory tone of voice. 'If I had you wouldn't be standing on my doorstep posting Hynerian hair gel through my letterbox - and I'm telling you now, by the way, Cheryl's gonna have a cow when she sees the mess you've made, young man.'
Ben's eyes open wide and he starts to look slightly worried.
'Anyway, weren't you supposed to be giving me a birthday present?' says Froon, staring at the gooey pile of junk on the doormat. 'I don't think any of these qualify.'
Ben smiles. 'Oh, yeah, I forgot,' he said. 'You'll like this, Froon.'
He reaches down, and a rectangular object wrapped in bright shiny paper tied with a bow plops through the door and onto the mat. Hastily picking it up before it can absorb any of the Hynerian goo, Froon shakes it to see if it rattles, or ticks, or shows any sign at all of being explosive.
'Go on, Froon, unwrap it,' says Ben with a mischievous grin.
Sighing trepidatiously, Froon pulls off the bow and tears away the paper, to reveal a hefty stack of pages. The top page bears the legend
'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE:
EPISODE THIRTEEN
'I'm So Vain, OR, Crichton Strikes Back'
by Ben Browder'
Froon swallows, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
'C'mon, Froon, why don't you read it? You're gonna love what happens,' says Ben, his face splitting into a grin so wide it won't fit through the letterbox.
Froon looks down, and starts flicking through the pages, catching glimpses of scene headings and stage directions. He notes that almost all of the scenes involve only Ben and Claudia, and that very few of them require the assistance of the wardrobe department.
'Check out scene seven,' advises Ben with an alarming smile on his face.
Froon flips the pages to find scene seven, in which 'Alien of the week (working name: 'Froon')' gets brutally sliced in two by D'Argo's Qualta blade. Froon swallows, glancing up at Ben nervously.
'Scene twelve?' Ben suggests with a grin.
Froon flicks forward in the script, to discover 'Alien of the week', who now appears to be held together by large, painful-looking stitches across his abdomen, being trapped in a power vortex which unfortunately involves his head slowly being dissolved.
'Scene twenty-five,' says Ben in a bored voice, not bothering to wait for Froon to look up.
Froon's eyes widen as 'Alien of the week' has his head reconstituted by a giant alien wasp, which decides to suck out his soul in return, forcing him to be brought back to life by mouth-to-mouth from Rygel.
'There's also scenes thirty-four through forty-two, and of course the whole of the next six episodes, but I think you get the picture, right, Froon?' says Ben, gazing at Froon through the letterbox with a big happy smile.
Froon clears his throat.
'You're dead set on this then, Ben?' he says, in a rasping, breathless voice.
'Ooh, yeah, you betcha,' says Ben, grinning.
'Then I'm afraid you leave me no choice,' says Froon, in that same rasping, strange voice, turning his head away and writhing as the skin on his face seems to buckle and twist.
Ben watches, horrified, as Froon's face splits in two, and gnarled hands rise up to pull away the mild-mannered, cheery visage of the mighty Froon. In its place is left wizened grey skin; sunken eyes; a pointed chin; a leather mask; and REALLY bad teeth.
'Holy Mission Impossible Rip-Off, Batman,' murmurs Ben, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open.
'Oh, spare me the twentieth-century pop-culture references, Ben,' says Scorpius, stepping forwards.
'C'mon, what else am I gonna say?' says Ben, pulling off the Patented Browder Gob Open Eyebrows Raised Incredulous Look once again, although the impact is slightly diminished by the letterbox. 'Besides, you're the scriptwriter, remember?'
'Well, so I thought,' says Scorpius ominously, glancing down at the script in his hand with a dismissive sneer. 'Did you really think I would allow this episode to happen?'
'Well, yeah, kind of. I wasn't aware when I was bringing it over that I was gonna be handing it to my way scary hybrid superevil nemesis, remember?'
There is a pause in the conversation; Scorpius narrows his eyes at Ben, and there is a faint sound like rushing wind. Ben blinks repeatedly, and Scorpius breaks into a smug and very very ugly smile.
'Remember what, Ben?' Scorpius says casually, holding the sheaf of paper in his hand behind his back, out of sight.
Ben keeps blinking, and looks up at Scorpius with a confused expression.
'I was...I was just...' Ben stammers, utterly bewildered.
'You were just telling me that you'd like ME to ghost-write that Season 3 episode you said you were doing,' says Scorpius with a thin-lipped, obsequious smile.
'Uh...yeah...that's right...' says Ben, frowning.
'Though of course, now you have to leave, because you have an appointment,' prompts Scorpius, still smiling.
'Yeah...an appointment, yeah,' says Ben slowly, nodding dopily. 'Uhhh...where was that again?'
'At Monj's house, Ben. Remember: you still have to make him pay, don't you?' says Scorpius, as if talking to a small child.
'Monj,' says Ben robotically, his eyes glazing over. 'Must make Monj pay.'
The letterbox flap snaps shut and through the frosted glass, Scorpius sees Ben walk slowly and stiffly away from the house, the little Westie yipping at his heels. Stepping forward, Scorpius nudges the pile of shoes, books and goo on the doormat with his toe, and remembers the script he's been hiding behind his back, the mere thought of it prompting a scary Scorpy growl.
He stares at the front page, and closes his eyes, ignoring the fact that the leather hat is starting to get a little itchy.
Outside, on the well-lit pavement (OK, OK, sorry)
Outside, on the well-lit SIDEWALK, Ben suddenly freezes mid-stride, and then crashes to the ground. He stays there for a few seconds, and then jerks awake again, to find Toto enthusiastically licking his face.
'Whoa, boy,' says Ben, pushing the dog away and scrambling unsteadily to his feet. 'Wow, that was...freaky...kind of like déjà vu all over again...again...only not...' He rubs his hand over his face, scrunches up his eyes, shakes his head, and walks on.
Only moments later, he tumbles back to the ground, and lies there, lifeless, for several seconds. When he finally stirs, Toto is perched on his chest, and is again licking his face with gusto.
'Eef...OK, knock it off, Toto, or you are going straight back to Kansas, and I am not talking executive class flights here, OK?' says Ben irritably, the stress starting to tell a little. He struggles to his feet again, dusting off the leather trousers, and carries on down the street.
His progress is watched from the doorway by Scorpius, who has a frankly quite alarmingly evil grin on his face.
'Oh, Ben, if only you knew,' he says, smirking as he throws Ben's script into the nearest bin. 'But since you don't, I am going to have SUCH a wonderful time at the next cast party...'
'But first things first,' he says, striding purposefully into Froon's small office and sitting himself in front of the desk. He stretches a bony finger towards the mouse to open the document.
'Now, let me see...' he murmurs, looking at the title 'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE: EPISODE ONE.'
''Title: Crichton Gets Captured by Scorpius and Tells Him Everything He Knows.' Now, that could have potential...'
FIN
FINAL NOTE: OK, OK, before you all email me to death, I know Ben's now shaved off the beard (woohooo!). I was just too darn lazy to do a rewrite, OK? (Great, now Ben's facial hair has a story arch all of its own...this is SO getting out of hand...)
SUMMARY: To quote John-as-Larraq: 'You don't WANT to know...'
NOTES: This was never meant to be a series, but, well, if you people will go on asking for a sequel...;) Besides which, I got to see WGFA and realised that da Froon got off mighty lightly last time...
As before, any similarity to co-executive evil geniuses or devastatingly handsome (still (c) CB) male leads is entirely intentional. But don't sue me, OK?
SPOILERS: Big fat ones for Won't Get Fooled Again. Please please please don't read this if you ain't seen WGFA yet, cos I would hate to think I spoilt it for anyone. Oh, and I suppose if you haven't read 'The Browder Strikes Back' this is going to be pretty much incomprehensible...
THANKS: To the gorgeous Sorlk-Lewis (and her good friend and mine, UPS) and the equally gorgeous chipper, to all you lovely feedback people, and, of course, to Ben and Froon. Sorry, guys, and remember I still love you really...:)
FEEDBACK: to uktechgirl@scape-goat.com
OK, people, on with the fic...
The setting: some place in some big ole country called the USA. Apparently located in some weird place called 'RL'.
Locked in a sweaty, darkened room sits a familiar-looking blond man wearing a brightly-coloured Australian Mambo shirt. The only breach in the darkness comes from a glowing computer screen on the desk before him; by its light we can see him twirling his evil moustache, deep in thought.
He reaches forward to grab another forkful of birthday cake from the plate beside the keyboard, but before he can get it to his mouth, the phone rings.
'Yotz,' mutters Froon, as the piece of cake lands on the keyboard and little bits of icing get wedged between 'A' and 'Z'. Picking up the biggest chunk of cake he can see, he seizes the phone crossly and barks out a hello, before shoving the cake into his mouth.
The voice at the other end of the line makes him jump a second time, and he nearly chokes, coughing and scattering crumbs and more icing over the keyboard. He tries vainly to brush the mess away, and looks with surprise at the jumble of letters which appear on the screen.
'So THAT'S how Monj came up with the name 'T'raltixx'', he mumbles through the mouthful of cake.
The voice on the line starts up again, louder this time. Still coughing, Froon hastily swallows and manages to croak out a few words.
'No, no, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm fine. Really.'
The voice burbles in his ear again, and Froon laughs nervously, still a little short of breath.
'Sorry, Mr Kemper, what did you say?'
There is a pause, and the colour drains entirely from Froon's face. Reaching quickly for the mouse, he closes the window marked '#farscape', and opens up a word document.
'Season Three, Mr Kemper?' he says anxiously, scanning the screen. 'Oh, yes, sir, it's going very well at the moment. Very well indeed.'
The word document finally opens. At the top of the page are the words
'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE
EPISODE ONE: TITLE: ???'.
The rest of the page is completely blank.
'Oh, yes, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm sure the SACCers will have a thing or two to say,' Froon says, clearing his throat and swallowing hard as the voice on the other end of the line continues.
'Script meeting in two days, you say,' Froon says, running a sweaty hand through his hair. 'And Rock's gonna be there too?'
The voice rumbles in Froon's ear.
'Oh, no, no, Mr Kemper, sir,' says Froon, his nervous laugh bordering on hysterical, 'I'm looking forward to it already.'
With a shaky hand he replaces the receiver, and spends a few moments staring blankly and hopelessly at the screen. Sighing, he closes the document and opens up another, entitled 'FARSCAPE SEASON TWO: FINAL EPISODE CLIFFHANGER'.
'OK,' he says to himself under his breath, 'Let's see where we left them. Right, John was just about to...'
[THE NEXT THREE PARAGRAPHS HAVE BEEN CENSORED BY TPTB.]
'Phew,' says Froon, scratching his head. 'DK was right, the SACCers are gonna kill us. And I have no idea how I'm going to get John out of [CENSORED] before [CENSORED] and Chiana and Rygel [CENSORED]. Not to mention that scene with Scorpius [CENSORED] D'Argo [CENSORED] cherry pie.'
Froon drums his fingers on the desk and twirls his moustache again, hoping it will inspire thoughts appropriate to an evil genius. Before he can fully settle into his depraved trance, however, there is a loud knocking at the front door.
'Frooooooon! Oh, FROOOOOOONNNYYYYYY!' yells a familiar voice.
'Oh, no,' breathes Froon, 'not again.' Sighing heavily, he rises from his chair and goes to the front door. Through the frosted glass panels in the door he can make out a vague figure dressed in black, and apparently carrying a large cardboard box.
'Open the door, Froon, I got something for ya,' says Ben, seeing Froon appear through the frosted glass. He holds up the box, sounding over-excited.
Froon shakes his head. 'Err, thanks, Ben, but I'm a little busy right now, OK? Maybe some other time?'
Ben sighs, shakes his head, and looks down at the little West Highland terrier at his feet.
'Don't worry, Toto,' he says softly, a manic light shining in his eye. 'I'll make him pay, you'll see.'
Ben grins and leans forward, pressing his face up against the door and letting his nose get all squished up against the glass. Froon shudders slightly and backs away from the door.
'C'mon, Froon, lemme in! I brought you a birthday present!' He holds up the box for Froon to see and shakes it, still grinning.
Froon continues to back away from the door, shaking his head slowly.
Ben's face abruptly disappears from the frosted glass, and he bends down, flicking the letterbox open with his thumb. As he bends over, he becomes dimly aware of sound and movement behind him, as if hordes of young ladies had suddenly appeared from behind the parked cars along the street and started wolf-whistling.
Frowning, Ben straightens up and looks over his shoulder, but the street is empty.
He bends down again, and out of the corner of his eye sees the same vague movement, this time accompanied by what sounds like the word 'leather!' repeated several times. Shrugging, he decides to ignore it, and prods the letterbox open again, sticking his face into the hole.
'Yo, Froon, what up?' he yells, grinning madly at the cowering figure in the hallway.
'Umm...hello, Ben,' says Froon, tentatively. Then he frowns, staring hard at Ben's face.
'What?' demands Ben, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
'Err...the beard, Ben,' answers Froon, hesitantly.
'What about the beard?' says Ben crossly.
'Well...I thought you were going to shave it off.'
Ben eyes Froon suspiciously, and then breaks into a knowing smile. 'I knew it!' he yells triumphantly.
'Umm...knew what, Ben?' says Froon slowly, wondering where this is going.
'You've been trying to get me to shave this off since I grew it, haven't you, Froony? And now I know why!' Ben tries to poke a finger through the letterbox to waggle it knowingly at Froon, but the flap snaps shut on it and Ben yelps, disappearing for a moment.
Froon waits patiently for the muffled howling outside to stop. Eventually Ben's face reappears through the flap, looking grumpy.
'Yeah, Froon, now I too know the power of the beard,' says Ben, sucking on his wounded finger. 'It's kind of obvious, really.'
'OK, Ben, let's hear it,' says Froon, with a long-suffering sigh.
'See, Rock's got a beard, right?' Ben's face has brightened, and he looks at Froon expectantly. Froon nods, slowly, sighing.
'And Brian's got a beard,' Ben continues. 'And you've got a moustache. It's like Samson and Delilah, right? The source of all your evil genius abilities is facial hair!'
Froon frowns at Ben sadly, shaking his head again. 'Ben...' he begins, but is cut off by the sound of loud barking from outside.
'All right, Toto,' says Ben, his face again disappearing from the slot of the letterbox for a moment. There is a sound of tape being torn off cardboard, and then Ben's face reappears, accompanied by a very big grin.
'As Toto here has very kindly reminded me, Froon, I came here for a reason. I have a few little gifts for you.'
Froon gulps at the sounds of rummaging coming from outside, and flinches when Ben reappears, holding a pair of red stilettos.
'Yours, Froon?' says Ben with a wicked grin, posting them through the letterbox with some difficulty.
Froon clears his throat. 'Actually, they weren't in the script, Ben. Lani just wanted to...umm...explore his character.'
'Get out of town,' mutters Ben with a wide-eyed smirk, as he reaches back into the box at his feet. 'Lemme see: what have we here? Oh yeah! Complete works of Sigmund Freud!'
A dog-eared book thumps onto the mat, and falls open at the section marked 'Oedipus Complex'.
Froon steps forward and picks up the book, his expression changing from suspicious panic to genuine concern.
'Umm, Ben, the whole 'John's mom' thing...' he says uncertainly, trying not to meet Ben's eye.
Ben narrows his eyes at Froon. 'Yuhuh.'
Froon shuffles his feet, still avoiding his eye.
Ben keeps watching him. 'That was pretty harsh, Froon,' he says, slowly.
Froon stares at the floor guiltily.
'But...' says Ben, glancing around as if embarrassed. 'Well...it was...kind of heart-stoppingly great television.'
There is a moment's silence, before Froon breaks into a big silly grin which is only slightly tinged with relief.
'Hey, Ben, I knew you'd...' Froon begins, still smiling, but Ben cuts him off.
'Whoa, put the brakes on, Admiral,' says Ben, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. 'There's a little matter we haven't quite resolved yet.'
Froon frowns for a moment, confused, while Ben reaches down into the box again. He reappears, grimacing, with a small jar filled with some kind of clear goo. Unscrewing the lid, he tips the jar up and empties the goo all over Froon's doormat, and then grins.
'What is THAT?' says Froon in a small voice, looking genuinely quite perturbed.
'Ahh, just some Hynerian body fluids, Froon,' says Ben, the grin widening at the horrified look on Froon's face. 'Ya made me kiss him again, Froon,' he says, shaking his head.
'You got to kill him, too,' says Froon breathlessly, stepping back in case the goo gets anywhere near him.
'Ohhhh, no,' says Ben, starting to look slightly crazy. 'As I recall, that's not all that happened.'
He posts a whip and some very small bondage gear through the letterbox and raises his eyebrows pointedly at Froon.
Froon gulps. 'Oh, c'mon, Ben, you enjoyed that scene really,' he says, in a wheedling voice.
Ben shakes his head firmly.
'Come on, you must have enjoyed SOME of it,' says Froon, raising his eyebrows.
Ben goes on shaking his head, then stops to think, and sighs.
'Well, I guess I got to see Claudia in a new light. Not to mention Virg and Gigi...'
Ben's eyes cloud over as he drifts off on the memory, smiling to himself. Then he catches himself, and wags a finger at Froon through the letterbox, rather cautiously this time.
'Ahh, nice try, Mister Distraction, but you can't get round me that easy,' says Ben, fixing Froon firmly by the eye. 'The fact remains that you took the opportunity to have the whole of the rest of the cast snog each other - and all I got was Rygel. AGAIN.'
Froon looks at him blankly, and then hunkers down and leans forward, looking around as if there were some strange presence above him watching these events unfold.
'Hey, Ben,' he hisses in a loud stage whisper. 'Maybe you should remind the author of this fic not to use so much Britslang...apparently it confuses the natives.'
Ben looks mildly put out. 'Hey, I'm allowed, I married one - who, by the way, YOU have never written a part for,' he says, also in a stage whisper.
'Oh, whatever,' says Froon crossly, before straightening and clearing his throat. 'So, where were we?' he says as if nothing untoward has occurred.
'Well, gee, goshdarnit, y'all, but I don't rightly know, I'm sure,' says Ben, fluttering his eyelashes.
Froon rolls his eyes and gives Ben a stern look. Ben looks chastened and coughs apologetically. There is a pause, and Froon looks hopefully at his watch.
'Wait up,' says Ben, staring hard at Froon, a small smile on his face. 'I'm not done. See, you didn't just make me play tonsil hockey with the slug, didya? Oooh, no. No, this time, I had to DIE! That's twice now, Froon.'
'Hey, c'mon, the first time wasn't me!' says Froon, holding up his hands defensively.
'Yeah, but it was a whole lot more fun waking up when Monj did it,' grumbles Ben.
'C'mon, Ben, I didn't really kill you,' says Froon, in a placatory tone of voice. 'If I had you wouldn't be standing on my doorstep posting Hynerian hair gel through my letterbox - and I'm telling you now, by the way, Cheryl's gonna have a cow when she sees the mess you've made, young man.'
Ben's eyes open wide and he starts to look slightly worried.
'Anyway, weren't you supposed to be giving me a birthday present?' says Froon, staring at the gooey pile of junk on the doormat. 'I don't think any of these qualify.'
Ben smiles. 'Oh, yeah, I forgot,' he said. 'You'll like this, Froon.'
He reaches down, and a rectangular object wrapped in bright shiny paper tied with a bow plops through the door and onto the mat. Hastily picking it up before it can absorb any of the Hynerian goo, Froon shakes it to see if it rattles, or ticks, or shows any sign at all of being explosive.
'Go on, Froon, unwrap it,' says Ben with a mischievous grin.
Sighing trepidatiously, Froon pulls off the bow and tears away the paper, to reveal a hefty stack of pages. The top page bears the legend
'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE:
EPISODE THIRTEEN
'I'm So Vain, OR, Crichton Strikes Back'
by Ben Browder'
Froon swallows, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
'C'mon, Froon, why don't you read it? You're gonna love what happens,' says Ben, his face splitting into a grin so wide it won't fit through the letterbox.
Froon looks down, and starts flicking through the pages, catching glimpses of scene headings and stage directions. He notes that almost all of the scenes involve only Ben and Claudia, and that very few of them require the assistance of the wardrobe department.
'Check out scene seven,' advises Ben with an alarming smile on his face.
Froon flips the pages to find scene seven, in which 'Alien of the week (working name: 'Froon')' gets brutally sliced in two by D'Argo's Qualta blade. Froon swallows, glancing up at Ben nervously.
'Scene twelve?' Ben suggests with a grin.
Froon flicks forward in the script, to discover 'Alien of the week', who now appears to be held together by large, painful-looking stitches across his abdomen, being trapped in a power vortex which unfortunately involves his head slowly being dissolved.
'Scene twenty-five,' says Ben in a bored voice, not bothering to wait for Froon to look up.
Froon's eyes widen as 'Alien of the week' has his head reconstituted by a giant alien wasp, which decides to suck out his soul in return, forcing him to be brought back to life by mouth-to-mouth from Rygel.
'There's also scenes thirty-four through forty-two, and of course the whole of the next six episodes, but I think you get the picture, right, Froon?' says Ben, gazing at Froon through the letterbox with a big happy smile.
Froon clears his throat.
'You're dead set on this then, Ben?' he says, in a rasping, breathless voice.
'Ooh, yeah, you betcha,' says Ben, grinning.
'Then I'm afraid you leave me no choice,' says Froon, in that same rasping, strange voice, turning his head away and writhing as the skin on his face seems to buckle and twist.
Ben watches, horrified, as Froon's face splits in two, and gnarled hands rise up to pull away the mild-mannered, cheery visage of the mighty Froon. In its place is left wizened grey skin; sunken eyes; a pointed chin; a leather mask; and REALLY bad teeth.
'Holy Mission Impossible Rip-Off, Batman,' murmurs Ben, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open.
'Oh, spare me the twentieth-century pop-culture references, Ben,' says Scorpius, stepping forwards.
'C'mon, what else am I gonna say?' says Ben, pulling off the Patented Browder Gob Open Eyebrows Raised Incredulous Look once again, although the impact is slightly diminished by the letterbox. 'Besides, you're the scriptwriter, remember?'
'Well, so I thought,' says Scorpius ominously, glancing down at the script in his hand with a dismissive sneer. 'Did you really think I would allow this episode to happen?'
'Well, yeah, kind of. I wasn't aware when I was bringing it over that I was gonna be handing it to my way scary hybrid superevil nemesis, remember?'
There is a pause in the conversation; Scorpius narrows his eyes at Ben, and there is a faint sound like rushing wind. Ben blinks repeatedly, and Scorpius breaks into a smug and very very ugly smile.
'Remember what, Ben?' Scorpius says casually, holding the sheaf of paper in his hand behind his back, out of sight.
Ben keeps blinking, and looks up at Scorpius with a confused expression.
'I was...I was just...' Ben stammers, utterly bewildered.
'You were just telling me that you'd like ME to ghost-write that Season 3 episode you said you were doing,' says Scorpius with a thin-lipped, obsequious smile.
'Uh...yeah...that's right...' says Ben, frowning.
'Though of course, now you have to leave, because you have an appointment,' prompts Scorpius, still smiling.
'Yeah...an appointment, yeah,' says Ben slowly, nodding dopily. 'Uhhh...where was that again?'
'At Monj's house, Ben. Remember: you still have to make him pay, don't you?' says Scorpius, as if talking to a small child.
'Monj,' says Ben robotically, his eyes glazing over. 'Must make Monj pay.'
The letterbox flap snaps shut and through the frosted glass, Scorpius sees Ben walk slowly and stiffly away from the house, the little Westie yipping at his heels. Stepping forward, Scorpius nudges the pile of shoes, books and goo on the doormat with his toe, and remembers the script he's been hiding behind his back, the mere thought of it prompting a scary Scorpy growl.
He stares at the front page, and closes his eyes, ignoring the fact that the leather hat is starting to get a little itchy.
Outside, on the well-lit pavement (OK, OK, sorry)
Outside, on the well-lit SIDEWALK, Ben suddenly freezes mid-stride, and then crashes to the ground. He stays there for a few seconds, and then jerks awake again, to find Toto enthusiastically licking his face.
'Whoa, boy,' says Ben, pushing the dog away and scrambling unsteadily to his feet. 'Wow, that was...freaky...kind of like déjà vu all over again...again...only not...' He rubs his hand over his face, scrunches up his eyes, shakes his head, and walks on.
Only moments later, he tumbles back to the ground, and lies there, lifeless, for several seconds. When he finally stirs, Toto is perched on his chest, and is again licking his face with gusto.
'Eef...OK, knock it off, Toto, or you are going straight back to Kansas, and I am not talking executive class flights here, OK?' says Ben irritably, the stress starting to tell a little. He struggles to his feet again, dusting off the leather trousers, and carries on down the street.
His progress is watched from the doorway by Scorpius, who has a frankly quite alarmingly evil grin on his face.
'Oh, Ben, if only you knew,' he says, smirking as he throws Ben's script into the nearest bin. 'But since you don't, I am going to have SUCH a wonderful time at the next cast party...'
'But first things first,' he says, striding purposefully into Froon's small office and sitting himself in front of the desk. He stretches a bony finger towards the mouse to open the document.
'Now, let me see...' he murmurs, looking at the title 'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE: EPISODE ONE.'
''Title: Crichton Gets Captured by Scorpius and Tells Him Everything He Knows.' Now, that could have potential...'
FIN
FINAL NOTE: OK, OK, before you all email me to death, I know Ben's now shaved off the beard (woohooo!). I was just too darn lazy to do a rewrite, OK? (Great, now Ben's facial hair has a story arch all of its own...this is SO getting out of hand...)