(Set in third season-ish Farscape. Set between Proven Guilty and White Night in Dresden Files)
"Open the door, John."
John Crichton opened his eyes to find himself already standing.
"Great, another dream." He had been having a dream about Scorpius trying to extract information from his mind. This was a weird transition though. He was in a large plain white room with a door on either side. John had just come through one of the two.
"It's not a dream, John," came a voice from inside his head. "You are physically here and awake."
This was either too elaborate a trick or the truth.
"Okay Harvey, then where are we?"
"A place outside of normal spacetime that was created entirely for one purpose."
"Which is?"
"To meet a friend."
"Scorpie, you don't have any friends."
"It does get lonely inside the concavity of your head, John."
"You are a copy! Not even that, you are a figment! You can't get lonely. How did we get here, anyway?"
"Your subconscious brain can do things your waking mind couldn't conceive of."
"Wait, I did this? You MADE me do this?"
"Oh hush now. I was only able to transport us because our host provided a location. It won't last long."
"Uh-huh. How well do you know this person."
"Never met her."
"What? Then how did you—"
The door on the other side of the room opened and a man stepped in. He was tall with shaggy hair and a tired complexion. He wore a long black leather coat and combat boots; Crichton recognized the brand. This guy was from Earth. What the frell.
They stared at each other for a few microts. John stepped forward first.
"Hi, my name's John Crichton." He held out his hand. The other man took it without making eye contact.
"I was expecting something a little more demonic. Harry Dresden."
John raised his eyebrows. "Demonic?"
"You step through a strange portal made by a fallen angel you could end up who knows where. I didn't expect a plain vanilla mortal on the other side."
"Are you for real? There is—"
John stopped suddenly in mid-sentence. Both men straightened and blinked several times.
"Well, that was going nowhere," said John in a much more English accent.
"I agree. You must be Scorpius." Harry's voice had become sultry and feminine.
"Yes, or sometimes Scorpie or Harvey."
"My host is also fond of nicknames. I am Lasciel." Harry extended his hand gracefully.
"Delighted to finally meet you." John bowed low and kissed Harry's hand. Suddenly both men wrenched themselves away.
"Woah! No way!" said John in his regular voice. He could hear Harry yelling something along the same lines to whatever was in his head.
"I thought you couldn't do that anymore since we got the chip out."
"This place has given me a rush of vitality," said Scorpius impatiently. "Now will you please do me this kindness, John, before I start killing brain cells out of boredom?"
"No. No! You do not get to use my body for a hookup!"
"No, John, I won't be using your body. I just need you to look at him."
"I don't—"
"LOOK AT HIM"
John whirled around. "Fine! What am I looking at?"
Harry seemed to have finished his conversation too. He heaved a sigh, turned and made eye contact.
There was a jolt as if the room had just dropped a foot. It was still the same room except between the two men stood Scorpius and an extremely beautiful woman in a plain white dress. They looked at each other.
"This is much better," the woman, Lasciel, said. She smiled, her eyes glistening, and John's heart felt pained by her beauty.
Scorpius bent low and kissed her hand. Creepily.
"Um, where are we now?" John asked to distract himself.
"You are sharing minds, John," Scorpius answered.
Harry was wide eyed with confusion. "Lash, how are you—"
"Harry, I created this demesne and it will bend to my will." Lasciel looked at Harry. "Please, let me have a moment."
"Okay, sharing minds," John said in his calm, rational, this-makes-no-frelling-sense voice. The room felt weird, like a projector that had run out of film. He thought he heard screams in the distance. He looked at Harry. "But, you are human, right?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm no shapeshifter."
"And you're not an alien?"
"What kind of question is that."
"A more relevant one than you would think," said Scorpius without taking his eyes off Lasciel. They hadn't let go of each other's hands. There was something going on between them that did not need words. A pure joy in physical touch that neither of their hosts would give them. It was weird watching them and being an intruder in your own head.
Through unspoken man-code Harry and John moved to one side to talk and ignore the two figments.
"So, I take it you're from Earth then," said John, eager for information.
"Yeah." Harry eyed John suspiciously. "Where are you from?"
"Well, I am from Earth. I'm an astronaut. I got sucked through a wormhole and ended up in a distant part of the galaxy. That's where I am now. I think. I've been gone almost three years," John prompted. Harry stared blankly for a minute.
"Wow, that must suck," Harry said finally. "Um, I live in Chicago. I'm a professional wizard."
John laughed. "Ha! Wizard! Any sufficiently advanced technology, am I right?"
Harry smiled back, bemused.
"I mean, I have seen some crazy stuff that I would have called magic," John continued. "I've even shared minds with a couple aliens but it has never been like this." John gestured. "So… simple."
"It usually isn't."
"So, wizards can share minds, huh?"
Harry looked troubled. "I'm sorry, but I can't be sure of who or what you are and I can't risk giving you any dangerous information."
"Oh come on, man! At least tell me who won the last Superbowl!"
It was Harry's turn to laugh. "That we can talk about."
(Would you like more? Let me know.)