Chapter 3

A/N: Let me just say how sorry I am that it's taken so long to get this posted. You guys can thank PrettyArbitrary for reminding me that I had a story hanging around, unfinished, unloved. Here you go: a whole new chapter! Aren't you excited? I am!

Scorpius sat in the dim dank jail cell and wondered what he'd be doing right now if he had not appointed himself John's bodyguard. Probably sitting in his room, perhaps eating something, maybe meditating upon the vagaries of life.

Definitely not sitting here listening to John try out his imbecilic humor on anyone who would listen. He'd told one about the Hynerian who crossed the road that Scorpius had found to be especially pointless. Who cared whether the Hynerian crossed the road? He'd likely cross it again. To get to the other side? Was there food on the other side? John didn't appreciate the questions, actually going so far as to get snippy when Scorpius tried to explain that he was only asking for clarification, as John's details were murky at best.

On the other hand, John's attempts at humor were worlds better than Stark's drivel. He'd woken up Scorpius the one time he'd actually managed to fall asleep in an intense conversation with Crichton about why exactly John had been so ill upon waking. After deciding that it was probably whatever drug they'd used to get him here (they'd probably figured on his being a Sebacean, which he clearly was not), Stark had gotten caught up in a repetitive murmering of "My side, your side," which had nearly driven Scorpius to murder.

More than anything else, he wished he hadn't followed John the day before.

"Okay, Scorpy, try this one on for size: This Delvian walks into a bar – THUNK!" John stood back expectantly, face shining with anticipation.

Scorpius raised his eyebrow.

"Because, like, the bar – you know, what, never mind." John rubbed his eyebrow, frustrated. Scorpius had no sympathy. He knew frustration, knew it quite well, and the pouting human in front of him was the main cause of it.

Stark stared at the floor, biting his lip. "I – I don't get it."

Scorpius leaned back against the wall and frowned. "I find your thirst for mindless violence somewhat disturbing, John."

John shrugged, gave that devil-may-care grin that so irritated Scorpius, and had probably driven that madman Crais into his decline. "Well, I am an American."

Stark looked up, mouth open, even more confused. "I thought you said you were human?"

John looked blank for a moment, then threw his hands in the air in disgust. "You know what? That's it. If no one here can appreciate my talents, I might as well just leave."

Scorpius's eyes widened. "What? You're going to go all the way to the other room? Really, I don't know how we'll stand your absence."

John pointed a finger. "That's just catty, Grasshopper. Other room, hell, I'm bustin' outta this joint!" He strode into the other room with purpose, disappearing from Scorpy's sight.

About time, really. Any longer with him in the room and Scorpius might have had to decapitate him. Which, while it would have been eminently satisfactory in the short term, might have put a crimp in Scorpius's long-term plans for the eradication of the Scarrans through John's brain's wormhole technology.

There were days when Scorpius allowed himself to wonder if the wormhole tech was really worth all this. Whether it was worth the time he had to spend with this—this human.

Of course, spending time with the ever-irritating John Crichton had its advantages. Their enormous new Luxan friend, G'ranik, had been seething for the last hour or so. The whole reason G'ranik had decided to build a new door between their two cells was to stop John's ceaseless chatter, and he looked like he might be considering a new effort in that direction. While Scorpius was confident that he'd be able to stop the Luxan from killing the human, even in a fit of hyper-rage, he wouldn't mind too terribly if John got a little bludgeoned. It might build character.

Someone crouched beside him, disturbing his musing. Stark.

"If you want me to explain the joke to you, I don't have a clue why Crichton thought it was funny."

Stark blinked, mouth gaping. There was a Peacekeeper saying about that – "Open mouth catches flies"—and Stark would do well to remember it.

"Er, Scorpy—" Stark broke off, wringing his hands.

Scorpius smiled beneficently. "Yes, Stark?"

Stark dithered some more. Scorpius had forgotten how much the Bannik irritated him. When Scorpius growled, Stark came right to the point: "Scorpy, ah, will John be able to escape?"

Scorpius frowned. "What?"

Stark gestured towards the other cell. "He's trying to escape. Do you think—"

Scorpius was on his feet in an instant. He strode through the collapsed wall into the cell with John, who was fiddling with the door. He'd ripped a long strip from the bottom of his shirt and had tied a knife to the bottom. He was at this moment actively engaged in dangling the knife out the tiny window slot from the shirt strip.

"John," said Scorpius in what he liked to think of as his most reasonable tone of voice, "just what are you doing?"

"I had an idea. I saw it on MacGyver once."

Scorpius paused, hand in the air for effect. "You know, I have a theory about you, John Crichton. Would you like to hear it?"

When John grunted an affirmation, Scorpius continued. "All this things you say, all these nonsense words—they used to puzzle me. The only way it made sense was to imagine that your culture had to have been vastly different from ours, if every other word out of your mouth is untranslatable. Then, for a while, I thought that it was to drive everyone around you insane. I don't believe either anymore. Do you know what I believe now, John?"

John paused in his labors and looked up at Scorpius. "What, Grasshopper?"

"I think you can't help yourself. I think your gibberish is all you have left of your home, and your stubborn clinging to phrases and names no one here can possibly understand is simply due to your inability to acclimatize to our end of the universe." Scorpius stroked his chin thoughtfully. "What do you think, John?"

John refused to meet eyes with Scorpius, instead focusing all of his attention on his escape attempt. "I think you're full of crap, Scorpy."

Stark chimed in from behind them. "Dren, John. He's full of dren, you mean."

Scorpius felt a full-on headache blooming behind his right eye. His current cooling rod would only last for so long. He'd been trying to make it stretch, because after that he'd be on his own. Which would not be pleasant. At that point, Stark and John probably could potentially make his head explode.

As cheerful as that thought was.

There was a clunk from the other side of the door, and the door handle on their side of it turned just slightly.

Perhaps John wasn't as much of an idiot as he appeared. This actually might work. "If you don't mind my asking, Crichton, where did you get the knife?"

Without pausing in his efforts, Crichton said, "I got it from D'arGinormous over there. He said I could have it if I left him alone. Nice guy."

There was another clunk from the other side of the door, and this time the handle turned completely. The door opened.

John looked blankly back at Scorpius and Stark. "It worked," he said.

Scorpius stared at the door. "I don't know what's worse, the surprise in your voice or the fact that you might have just saved all of our lives. You're going to be insufferable for

the next few solar days."

While Stark went back into the other cell to get G'ranik, John eased the door inward. When it creaked, he paused, spit on the hinge, and tried again. This time it moved relatively smoothly and quietly.

"You continue to impress me, John," Scorpius said quietly. When he wasn't being unbearable, the man could actually come through from time to time. No wonder the crew of Moya hadn't abandoned him long ago.

John put his eye to the hand-sized gap in the doorway. "Can't see anyone. Looks like the coast is clear."

That brought to mind the seaside for Scorpius. When he thought about it, John's confusing sayings had a certain genius to them. If the coast were clear, he mused, a swimming assassin could sneak onshore without being noticed. He made a mental note to pay more attention to the things that came out of Crichton's mouth in the future.

John opened the door the rest of the way, carefully creeping into the hallway. He looked left and right.

Scorpius did the same. The hallway was lined with cells in both directions and stretched for a vast distance.

"So. Scorp. I got us out. Where do we go from here?"

Scorpius realized that he had absolutely no idea which way would lead to the outside world. He'd been as unconscious as John when he'd been brought here. "You know, John, I have no idea." The statement left a sour taste in his mouth, and his apprehension kicked up a notch, bringing his cooling rod that much closer to burnout.

John glanced at the hallway. He whispered, "Eenie, meenie, miney—we're going down this way." He took off down the left tunnel, Stark following close behind, G'ranik lumbering in their footsteps.

After a moment, Scorpius got in line. "We are utterly frelled," he said to himself. John had taken charge—they were never getting out alive.