Title: When they Come
Summary: ….because Crichton's plans never work the first time.
Pairing: John/Aeryn
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to Terra Firma (season 4)
Season: It's sort of an A/U thing... because Scorpius ruins plans. So it's set sometime after they get back from Earth, but lets pretend Scorpius, Sikozu and Noranti mysteriously never showed up on Moya...
A/N : This fic is finished. gasp I know. Don't all die of shock. There are only two interesting facts about this fic. One – It is my first EVER Farscape fic that I've written, so go easy. Two – I wrote it entirely at work. Instead of actually working.
For Bubbles.
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When they come… So will I."
John Crichton stared out of his third story window, his eyes searching back and forth, almost as if he were trying to see through the high-rises blocking his view of the horizon.
Behind him, across a small hall in another room, pictures flashed across his tv screen. Death. Destruction. Suffering. A muffled voice kept a running commentary of the horrors.
John had seen it all before of course. The news report was like a "this is your life" movie, relaying his past in a full coloured nightmare, complete with sound.
"They will not stop hunting you."
He ignored the television and it's flash backs into his life, just like he ignored the insistent ringing of his telephone, his eyes still outside, looking for something he couldn't possibly see.
His own voice filled the small room, his answering machine had clicked over after the sixth unanswered ring. A shrill tone made him wince, then someone started to speak.
"John, are you there? It's me... Clayton."
A thirty-eight year old balding man with a tendency to eat with his mouth full and call Crichton 'pip-squeak', Clayton had been John's most constant companion since he'd gotten back.
"John?"
John was sure it wasn't because Clayton found his company particularly appealing. He knew his father had been keeping an eye on him. He knew they all thought he was out of his mind.
"Okay... well look, they want to talk to you. You were right, John. About everything. They want you to finish what you started."
John snorted. Now they wanted his help? John finally tore his eyes away from the window to stare with distain at the answering machine. He had told them long ago he was the only person on this planet who knew what they were dealing with. The only one...
Unless...
"Call us John. There isn't much time. If you are right... if it's really going to happen like you said, we don't have a lot of time. They're pretty freaked down here. It's a mad house."
A pause, and a mumbled voice.
"Wait... Your dad says he's coming over. He doesn't think we should wait."
John reached over and picked up the phone, "Clayton? Tell Dad to stay put, I'm coming."
----
"Come with me."
"You know I won't."
"Why not?"
"Because... we don't fit John... we've been through this... And don't say you want to stay. You've got to prepare them. They need you down there." A soft hand held his face, fingers stroking his cheek, "More then I do. When they come... so will I."
John squinted at the equation in front of him, his head slowly shaking back and forth, "This is wrong."
'I'm sorry?" She must have just been out of College, young features betraying her concern, soft blue eyes staring at him under dark lashes.
He pointed, "There." His finger moved, "And here."
It had been three days since the phone call. Three long days filled with simulations and speculations and calculations... and horror and children screaming, both inside of John's head and out.
He hadn't slept more then a handful of hours. During the time he was awake, his knowledge of what was to come kept his body full of adrenalin, letting him push himself against his own boundaries, breaking through barriers and going further. His own experiences fuelled the drive to keep him going.
And those times when his body collapsed with exhaustion , when he was so tired he literately couldn't keep his eyes open, he fell into sleep full of images. Memories of a time long past, mostly full of that which was ravaging Earth as he slept.
Waking from sleep that was far from restful, John continued to work.
-----
"You have to believe me."
"It's not that we don't believe you John… it's just that... well... we don't believe you."
"I'm not crazy."
"We never said you were."
"They are coming! Here. Hunting me. And they won't stop until they have found me, and then..."
"Then they will wipe us out anyway, yes John, you've said."
"This should have been done two years ago." John pointed out, running his hand across his face, "If you'd listened to me in the first place..."
"I know John." His father, who had been a hesitant supporter of his son since he'd returned to Earth, nodded sedately. He'd been listening to 'I told you so's.' all week, "But it's working now..."
"No." John cut him off abruptly, blood shot eyes shooting up at his fathers, "No. This is only temporary... an interim measure for the advanced guard. It won't keep them away for good."
"And... and your ship? It's still coming right? Are you sure they haven't abandoned you?"
"Moya dad. Her name is Moya and yes. When she gets here, she'll fix everything. That was the plan." John closed his eyes and took a breath.
Moya. She was coming. They'd promised.
"But we've got to be ready." He spoke each word slowly, as if it would somehow register better then the past hundred or so other times he'd mentioned it.
"We're working as fast as we can." Jack told his son patiently.
"It won't be enough." John responded quietly.
-----
3 Years Ago
Aeryn Sun eyed the end of the corridor down the barrel of her pulse pistol, ignoring the flickering lights in the dim space, barely breathing.
An explosion rocked the structure, debris floating down from the ceiling to coat everything in a fine dust. Aeryn distractedly ran a hand through her hair, dislodging all but the most stubborn flecks, wishing for nothing more then for this particular campaign to be over so she could get back to Moya.
Behind her, John Crichton mirrored her stance, the hand not tightly gripping his weapon wrapped protectively around her middle. Ever since learning of her pregnancy, John's hands rarely strayed from her person. She may have found it irritating, but his paternal concern was too endearing for her to entertain annoyance for long. Especially since they still did not know who the father was.
Aeryn shifted her grip, when another explosion, closer this time, threw them both off balance. The hand holding his pulse pistol slammed against the wall to brace himself, John tightening his grip on Aeryn so they both stayed upright.
He moved his lips behind her ear, "That was the south passage."
She nodded agreement as John's gun arm trained back on the end of the corridor, which bent sharply to the right. There were two things that could come around that corner - one of which would mean the end of life for both of them.
A moment passed. Aeryn could feel John's heart thumping against her back. Or was that her own? John's fingers moved absently across her flat belly, betraying his tension. They heard a duller explosion somewhere behind them, but they both ignored it, every sense focused on the end of the corridor.
They heard him a split second before they saw him, large heavy foot falls and rasping breath. D'argo rounded the corner at a dead run, his hand catching the opposite wall to help him around it without loosing too much speed.
"Move!"
In only a handful of footsteps he was next to them, but they were all ready moving.
Aeryn didn't need to look behind her. She knew what was there, nipping at their heels. A flash memory of it's violent capabilities, and she found another burst of speed. They rounded another bend and entered a large circular cavern. Aeryn knew most of the rock was artificial, but the design was so flawless she couldn't determine what had been pre-made by the indigenous species on this planet, and where nature took over.
D'argo hesitated only a moment, then took off down one of the varying exits of the cavern. The room may have once been used as a command post, but had long since been abandoned and vandalised to a point beyond recognition. John and Aeryn followed, trusting the Luxan to know their escape route. If he was wrong, they could very well be stuck traversing the immense maze of rock for the rest of their lives.
Not that that would be very long.
They entered another room, this one square, with only one other entrance directly opposite the one they'd come through. It was smaller then the cavern they'd been in earlier, and this one was bustling with activity.
A young female, bald and with eyes a dark indigo colour and skin as pale as moonlight ran to John, her hands holding a small box object with a rainbow mix of colours playing back and forth in a never ending shifting pattern, "It's ready." She was breathless, her voice soft with a slight twist to her words.
John didn't waste time, taking the object and placing his palm on top of the cube. It warmed to his touch, getting hotter, then suddenly it burned. Wincing in pain, he kept his hand there.
"Goddamn." He cursed through gritted teeth as the smell of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils. The pain seared up his arm as his hand started to shake with the effort. And then, when he could stand it no longer, Aeryn was by his side, clamping her hand down on top of his like a vice.
They shared a brief look; he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her in thanks for the help, or kill her for the pain she was now responsible for.
The cube let out a shrill whistle, rising in pitch.
"Throw it!"
John complied with the command as the device got louder, piercing the air with it's sound. He lobbed it back down the corridor they had come from, his eyes opening wide as their pursuer rounded the last corner and caught sight of the room.
"D'argo! Door!"
D'argo flicked a switch on the console in front of him, a large steel door slamming into place mere seconds before the assailant cleared the threshold.
A handful of heartbeats. Silence. No one dared breathe.
The explosion that followed knocked them all off their feet. The ground shuddered; the roof creaked as support beams weakened. The light dust of before was replaced by chunks of rock and dirt. John, his hand still searing, had the wind knocked out of him as a large bolder struck him on the back.
The intermittent power finally gave up its struggle and plunged the room into darkness.
More moments passed. The structure continued a sort of death song as it seemed to slowly die. The cracking of support beams and cascading rocks alerting John to the fact that they had to leave as soon as possible. He sat up, trying to get his bearings, but only darkness greeted him.
"Aeryn?"
Silence.
"D'argo?" He coughed, trying to dislodge the litre of sand he'd inhaled, when he heard movement to his left. He crawled on his knees and his one good hand, not yet trusting his legs, "Aeryn?!"
"Commander?"
It was Lindell, the indigenous girl with the eyes that seemed to reach into John's soul whenever he'd looked into them.
"Are you hurt?" she asked softly.
John assessed himself quickly. Nothing seemed broken, although his hand felt like it was still on fire, "No, I'm fine. You?"
"I'm not hurt."
John nodded, mostly to himself, and then tried to stand. A sure hand grabbed his upper arm, "Wha...?"
"I can see in the darkness." Lindell told him, surprising strength under her lithe form as she helped him stand.
"Can you see Aeryn and D'argo?"
"I'm here." Aeryn's voice came from the darkness to his right, "And..." she grunted, and John pictured her moving a plank of debris to free herself, "I'm fine."
"I think the Luxan is unconscious."
"Great." John's eyeroll was lost in the darkness.
Lindell helped John navigate the rubble strewn room, and they quickly assessed D'argo's injuries. She declared that while he'd probably sport a nice bruise on his forehead when he woke up, the Luxan would live. While his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, John worked his way to the steel door, which had been warped by the explosion, leaving a big enough opening for him to squeeze through.
Aeryn followed, achieving the same movement with a great deal more grace, a fact which John took paused to admire before turning and focusing on the hallway.
The creature that had been following them lay on the ground a few feet from the entranceway of the room John and Aeryn had just vacated, a guttering torch throwing a ghoulish light across the small corridor. From outward appearances, the creature appeared unhurt, almost as if it had just suddenly decided to lay down and rest in amongst the debris cluttering the corridor.
The alien was a dark shade, a motley collection of greys and blacks and reds. Hair sprouted at irregular intervals across it's entire body, and it was clothed in what John associated with Monk robes, minus the hood. He approached it warily, his pulse pistol Wynona clutched tightly in his hand, not that it would do much good, but he felt better for having it anyway. He and Aeryn stopped at the creatures head, and one baleful eye stared up at them.
"So this is it, John Crichton" It hissed inside of his head, the creatures mouth not moving. Although the strange telepathic aliens had disconcerted him at first, John was now used to it talking inside of his brain.
"I warned you." John responded coldly.
"And I you." The creature seemed to spasm, and John saw pain behind it's eye.
"I didn't destroy your world." John knelt down so he was inches from the eye. He stared directly into it, "Go tell your mind-link buddies that it ends here."
John detected mirth in his head. The creature was actually laughing at him, "Wrong, John Crichton. It has just begun. They will not stop hunting you." A pause. "It has been decided then. A world for a world. They will destroy that which you..."
John blinked rapidly: he could actually feel the alien die in his head before the mind-link was terminated. His eyes closed briefly as he tried to shake off the decisively odd sensation, "What did he mean by that?"
"She." Aeryn corrected him with a tug of a smile on her lips, "And 'a world for a world'? Sounds self explanatory to me."
"I don't have a world." John reminded her as he got back to his feet, "Not in these guys neighbourhood anyway."
They negotiated their way back into the room, "The Molarens are a patient race." She stopped just before the mangled door and looked him directly in the eye, "Very patient." She seemed to pause, as if gauging his reaction to her words, seeing if he actually believed her before she went on, her voice muffled as she twisted her body around the small opening in the doorway, "If it takes 30 cycles to get to Earth, they'll take 30 cycles."
"But I didn't do anything."
They entered the room as an electronic buzz invaded the small space. Moments later the lights flickered back on, and John was finally able to asses the damage they'd caused.
His original assessment has been correct. The walls weren't going to hold up much longer.
He and Aeryn helped move the dead and wounded from the enclosed space, heading through the second doorway back onto the surface of the planet.
"Okay, so here's what I know." John spoke conversationally to Aeryn, D'argo's limp body slung between them. His injured hand was wrapped tightly in bandages, a soothing balm had been applied and he could literately feel his skin healing, "We stumble into the middle of a war between these mind reading buddies, and the scary eye guys."
"The Molarens and the Pupdar." Aeryn supplied.
"Right. So we choose to join the Puppies, 'cause the other guys are a shoot first ask questions later type, and really, I never liked those. So after a bit of fighting, The Puppies pull out this fandangle bomb that messes with the mind-reading guys heads and eventually kills them. And these mind-reading guys think I have something to do with it..."
"Because the bomb didn't show up until we did."
"Exactly. So now, the mind-reading guys are hell bent on revenge against me, and they're going to take the fight back to Earth. Which means..." John and Aeryn reached the outside, lowering D'argo's body against a large, sliver tree that disappeared into the cloud cover above, "I have about thirty cycles to get back to Earth and warn them."
"Not even half that, actually."
Aeryn and John both spun around. The woman, Lindell, was a few feet away, staunching the blood of what looked like an old man with a jagged tare down his right leg.
"What do you mean?"
"The Molarens... the mind-link species we have been at war with. If they've targeted your world Commander, it won't take them 30 cycles to reach it. A closely guarded secret of theirs is advanced space flight... a trip like that could take them as little as three cycles."
John paused, a thousand implications coming to him at once. He and Moya's crew had only been on the planet for a dozen of solar days, and he already knew the extent of the Molarens destructive capabilities. He'd watched entire cities burn in a matter of arns. They were relentless, cruel victors with little in the way of morality.
And they were virtually impossible to kill with pulse weapons.
The way the Pupdar had explained it, the Molarens were, as a rule, a peaceful species who liked to keep to themselves, trading with only a select few 'outsiders'.
However, honour was a big thing among them. Insults were not taken likely, and retaliation was swift. John wasn't exactly sure what the Pupdar had done, but he knew it couldn't be worth the destruction that had ensued.
And he couldn't, even for a microt, contemplate what would happen if they got hold of Earth.
"Alright then. So I have three cycles to get back to Earth." John spoke fast, under no illusions about what needed to be done, "Lindell, I'm going to need one of those bombs your people made. We can stop them the same way you did."
"Crichton, how can you possibly expect to ..." Aeryn paused, "You're going to use the Wormhole again, aren't you? To get back to Earth in under three cycles."
John, who up until that moment had had scenario after scenario running through his head on the best way to repel the attacks against his home planet, stopped, resting a gentle hand on Aeryn's arm, "I can't just leave them. I have to go back. This is my fault and I have to warn them."
Aeryn understood, but it didn't mean she had to like the idea, "You said so yourself, last time it was a miracle they didn't have you locked away. Not to mention the fact that you can't even control the wormholes properly, you could end up..."
"Aeryn." He said her name forcefully, cutting her off mid-sentence, "It'll be okay." His hand moved to cup her cheek, his soft eyes staring into her's, "When I explain what's going on, they'll understand. And," he pulled away quickly, not quite looking at her, "I'm much better at the whole wormhole thing now."
Aeryn looked doubtful as John knelt next to Lindell, "That bomb your people made. The one that kills them first go. You think I could get my hands on one of them?"
Lindell shook her head, "It takes cycles to generate the necessary power Commander. My people have a long history with the Molarens, we knew these attacks were just a matter of time, and we were prepared. It will take time and work to prepare the bomb."
"How much time and work?"
"Depending on the help? A cycle, maybe two."
John closed his eyes. They would be cutting this all very fine, "And the structures on the planet?"
The young woman held up her palms, pressing her thumb and middle finger together, a gesture John had come to interpret as a shrug, "Another few cycles."
John let out a frustrated breath through his mouth. That did it then. He wouldn't have enough time to help the Pupdar's put together the weapon, and make sure Earth was prepared sufficiently for a world wide delivery like they had done here.
The solution, in the end, was simple.
--------
D'argo has come up with it, his words slurred from his spot against the tree, the blow to the head causing his words to come out slowly and precisely.
But they had figured out what he was proposing quickly enough.
John didn't like it. He was sure Aeryn didn't either, but they both had to concede it was a good plan, one that made sense and even had a little bit of logic thrown in, something John knew his plans weren't famous for.
John would go back to Earth. As quickly as possible. From there, he would be able to co-ordinate the mammoth effort of getting his entire planet to pull together to set up a delivery system of the device that would kill the Molarens. Earth was aware of aliens now, he didn't think it would be too much of a stretch to convince them that a few were hell bent on destroying them all for no real apparent reason.
He hoped.
The rest of Moya's crew would stay behind, and do all they could to help with the production of the device. Lindell explained about the myriad of supplies from different locations around the universe that they'd need. Moya would be a invaluable asset.
After the clean up back on the planet, John returned to Moya and spent the next three arns calculating a wormhole to Earth in three cycles that Moya would be able to get a lift in on. This was the biggest problem he had with the plan. Three cycles was a very long time. Any number of anomalies could crop up between now and then, and he wouldn't be around to adjust for them. Moya could end up anywhere. His concerns however where not shared by the rest of the crew. Their faith in his abilities seemed to be far more solid then his own... something else that surprised him.
There was one other real problem he had with the plan.
John found Aeryn in their sleeping chamber. It was actually her bedroom, but he spent so much time with her now in his mind it had transformed into 'theirs'.
Sat on the floor, she had his notebook in her lap, her eyes scanning the first scratchings of wonder he's pencilled down when he'd first arrived.
Ever since their small stay on Earth, her grasp of the written English word had progressed that she was now pouring over every bit of literature he had, most of which she had haltingly read before, now able to comprehend so much more.
"Hey."
His soft voice brought her head up, and she smiled at him, "You know, I never realised you thought this stuff about me." She gestured to the book, and John felt his cheeks warm.
"Yeah... well that was a long time ago." He sat down next to her, back against the wall, his fingers keeping themselves occupied with each other so he could concentrate on them and not have to look at her. "Check's are pretty much done. Wormhole opens in a bout an arn and a half."
Aeryn lay the notebook gently on the floor beside her, turning her head to look at him, "So this is it." She echoed the dying Molarens words, commanding his attention to her.
He studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction to his impending departure, but her face was a stony mask, enough of an indication that she was upset. Aeryn had learnt a while ago that showing emotion wasn't the end all that she had been originally taught, but she was still a master at masking it. Especially from him.
"Come with me."
Aeryn smiled. Soft, tolerant, "You know I won't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't belong on Earth. That planet and I...we don't fit John. We've been through this... And don't say you want to stay. You've got to prepare them. They need you down there." A soft hand held his face, fingers stroking his cheek, "More then I do."
She paused as he grabbed her hand, turning his face to kiss her palm.
"When they come... so will I. I promise you."
He looked into her eyes, then grabbed the collar of her shirt, tugging her towards him. In a swift, practised movement, Aeryn swung her legs over his and straddled him, his legs lay stretched out in front of him. He shifted forward enough for her to wrap her legs behind him, his arms resting against her hips.
He reached forwards, his tongue snaking out to probe the pulse against her neck. Aeryn's eyes fluttered shut as John worked lips and tongue to good advantage. His teeth nibbled gently on her earlobe, and then he breathed into her ear, "Wait for me."
Aeryn pulled away, her brows knotted together quizzically, "What?"
He stared up into her eyes, his fingers gently teasing the strip of bare flesh where her pants met her shirt, "Wait for me...until I get back."
"For three cycles?" she asked, amusement edging her words, "Without this?" Her hips shifted, and a low moan escaped John's lips, who suddenly realised that his leather pants where far too unforgiving.
His hands tightened against her hips, stilling her, "That's not nice."
Aeryn grinned in a way John could only describe as wicked, her tongue snaking out to lick her top lip, when suddenly John's hand moved down to where their bodies joined.
Aeryn's fingers dug into his shoulders, and her hips shifted again, grinding against him, causing a strangled grunt from the back of Johns throat. He stopped the movement of his fingers, and Aeryn let out a breath, settling back against his thighs.
She lent her forehead against his, eyes shining, and then she kissed him hungrily.
John never received an answer to his question.