John Crichton felt an aura of gloom settle over Moya, that magnificent living ship that had become his Home, and it made him wish for happier times. Before they were being stalked by half a universe. The man sat in the room that served as a mess hall for the crew and watched the stars stretch off into eternity. The Earth scientist tried to count them, a futile and useless routine that had started years before. It calmed him and, he hoped, helped keep his sanity intact. Perhaps, instead, it was a sign of his insanity.
There had to be some crazy lurking inside his mind - with the mental clone of Scorpius following his every move - and it's size increased with every traumatic experience. He held it at bay in his own ways. Counting the stars, reciting favorite movie lines, talking about his missed planet with the others and John knew that all of these exercises helped. They had to, because otherwise he would be left adrift.
John watched the cosmos stare back at him with a smirk and a twinkle.
-THE END