Summary: Yeah, he'd be fine. He'd just never be the same.
Spoilers: What Was Lost, Terra Firma, and A Constellation of Doubt.
Notes: Amnesty. Give me amnesty. Sometimes you just wonder what goes through a characters head and why they do what they do.
Warnings: Sexual Content, Rape, Drug Abuse, Suicide
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own 'em. Etc.
Crichton rolled to his side. He couldn't sleep. Not on Earth, not on Moya. Not enough to preoccupy his mind. Too many nightmares. Wake up with a hard-on. And not because of Aeryn. The lakka wasn't working. Double dose and two arns later he was aching and sobbing, curled up on his bed.
That's why he was here. Down there, on terra firma, they were always watching. Every gesture, every word, they dissected and analyzed. He'd been able to keep it from Aeryn. But Jack? Olivia? Bobby with his fucking camera? Someone always in his face, asking questions, poking and prodding.
He shifted to ease the pressure on his groin. There was nothing he could do about it. He had tried in vain to relieve the tension himself, but had fucked it up. How he could fuck something like that up he didn't know.
What he needed was a good pity screw. Yeah, a pity screw. He laughed harshly at the idea of fumbling through that again, the sound that escaped his throat closer to a strangled sob. He'd tried that in his head. It was embarrassing. Couldn't keep it up, couldn't get it off, couldn't stop from having fucking flashbacks. In his own head. That wasn't how it was suppose to work.
Forcing himself up, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the locked door. He'd considered suicide. More than once. Explosive decompression, pulse blast to the temple, overdose. He'd taken his module out and almost overdosed, just before Einstein and the wormhole. All he got was a nosebleed and a couple of arns of bliss.
Chiana had tried to talk to him about Grayza after they'd left Arnessk. He'd brushed her off, said he was fine. He didn't want to think about it more than he already did. Talking about it would be worse. What she'd done to him... and made him do to her. He could still feel her nails digging into his back, scratching his skin, making him bleed. An addiction worse than lakka. Worse than Aeryn.
He hadn't touched the lakka in a few days. But Olivia pushing about Aeryn earlier had been a little too much a little too soon. And now he needed it again. He rolled it between his fingers, examining it for a moment in the dim light of his quarters. So much pain, so little relief.
He didn't want to think about it, but he wondered if Grayza had broken him. If this is what he could expect for the rest of his life. Every sexual impulse, dictated by the good Commandant. She didn't have to be within a 100 light years, and she'd still be screwing him over.
Holding it to his nose, Crichton snorted hard. It took a few microts to kick in, finally numbing his head and his heart. He pinched his sinuses, shaking his head clear, trying to rid himself of the burning sensation it left in its wake. His erection eased off and he relaxed a little more.
Yeah, he'd be fine. He'd just never be the same.
Fin
