Part 4

Part 4

Upstairs in the office, Cordelia was at the computer with Wesley safely hovering behind her chair.

"So what are we looking for?" she asked, curious as to what would drive Wesley to a computer.

"John. His face looks familiar somehow, I just can't place it," he answered. "Try a newspaper place."

"That guy that came in with the ugly demon last night?" asked Cordelia typing in the newspaper website. That really hot guy who could use a brush? "He can't have been important because I've never heard of him. Of course, if I'd even seen him before I'd have remembered when, where, and what I was doing."

"Yes, and you'd know his income, phone number, and last name, which is what we are trying to find out," Wesley told her. The computer screen filled with the newspaper's homepage. Cordelia clicked to the archives.

"You have to know the basics about a guy before you get serious," Cordelia said over her shoulder, unconsciously shuddering. She remembered all too well waking up from her last one-night-stand pregnant with a demon. She felt Wesley's hand rub her shoulder reassuringly. "Okay, when do you want?" she asked, silently grateful for Wesley's unspoken gesture.

"Ahh, try last year. Can you check headlines?" he asked. Cordelia nodded clicking here and there, then began scrolling down a list. When her head started to hurt five minutes later, she turned the computer over to Wesley.

"You can handle this," she told him getting up and reaching for her latte. "Where did Angel go?"

"Back downstairs, I think" Wesley said squinting at the computer. "The aliens were fighting earlier and he went down to check on them." Cordelia choked over her Styrofoam cup.

"The who?" she sputtered, eyes popping out of their sockets. Wesley looked back at her and slowly grinned. He was enjoying this a bit too much for Cordelia's liking and she would definitely have to kill him for it later.

"Aeryn and D'argo," Wesley told her wisely turning back to the computer screen.

"That woman and the snaky guy?" asked the incredulous Cordelia. Aliens? She didn't know what to think about that. Demons were always bad, present boss excepted, and just about every movie from Hollywood depicted aliens as bad too - except for ET, but he was so adorable that he couldn't possibly be a kill-you, eat-you kind of guy. "What were they fighting about?" she asked nervously.

"We don't know. They don't speak English. Which reminds me, we have to set up a language spell after we finish here," said Wesley.

"Great! More sparks and explosions," said Cordelia, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Wesley, having had to deal with Cordelia's unique form of wit all too often, just ignored her.

"I think I've found it!" he suddenly shouted. "'Astronaut Lost on Experimental Mission. Commander John Robert Crichton, Jr, Doctor of both Theoretical Sciences and Cosmic Theory, (Wow! exclaimed Wesley, completely awestruck,) was lost on yesterday's experimental space mission. Crichton and childhood friend, Dennis Kist, were testing their theory of atmospheric acceleration when a radiation wave hit the Farscape pod piloted by Crichton,'" read Wesley. "It goes on about the theory and the mission. No one was willing to comment on it. He has a father, Jack, in Florida, and …that's about all it says," Wesley said turning to Cordelia who was standing behind him.

She clicked on the photo button next to the text and a picture of John Crichton in his yellow IASA uniform popped up. His hair was neatly trimmed, his blue eyes sparkled, and he had a bright, excited smile on his face. There was something almost innocent about him, like a little boy flying a kite for the first time. The man she'd seen last night had been different, wilder, harder-as if he'd been through a war.

"What are theoretical sciences and cosmic theory?" she asked Wesley, still gazing at the picture, trying to reconcile the image of the man in the picture with the man she had seen last night.

"I'm not sure," he said taking back the mouse and clicking to the next article about the mission. "I think it has something to do with interstellar travel." He quickly scanned the article and shook his head. "None of these articles seemed to say anything more about what happened. IASA is keeping the lid closed on the investigation." He got up and went to the small refrigerator across the room and pulled out an apple. "Frustrating, these government types," he said taking a bite. He sighed and looked at the door to Angel's office. "I suppose I better get to work on that spell." He looked back at Cordelia. "Care to help me?"

"Uh, no!" she replied quickly, panic washing across her face. There was no way she was getting involved with magic, especially if Wesley was the one playing magician. "I think I'll go tell Angel what we found out."

**********

John was scrambling some eggs when Angel came back downstairs. Aeryn and D'argo sat quietly at the table, each lost in their thoughts, as John quietly rambled on about the various ways one could cook an egg. He wasn't really listening to himself; he just felt the need to fill the heavy silence and to keep himself distracted. But his thoughts wouldn't stay put. They roamed to the east coast and pulled forward memories of odd Saturday mornings when he and his dad would get up before dawn, cook up some eggs at his dad's house, then take a walk on the beach and just talk about everything, from philosophy to women to space. He really missed those heart-to-hearts, and now he was so close, yet…it would never be the same.

John sighed and took the eggs off the stove. "Hey, Angel," he greeted the vampire leaning against the wall. "You know, you don't have that much food in the fridge and the blood in there is really disgusting. I feel like I've moved into Frankenstein's castle." Aeryn and D'argo gave each other the "what's-he-talking-about-now-look" as he shoveled eggs onto their plates.

Angel just smiled and joined them at the table. "That's one way of looking at it," he said. John's face broke into a large grin.

"Man, it feels good to be understood!" he told everyone holding up his arms, careful not to tip the frying pan. "Honey, I am home!" Well, almost, he amended in his thoughts.

"Does he do this often?" Angel asked Aeryn giving John a worried look. Both Aeryn and D'argo nodded emphatically.

"You have no idea," Aeryn told him with an amused smile, again forgetting he couldn't understand.

"Sometimes singing," added D'argo who glared up disapprovingly at John's all too human behavior. The erring human just grinned even wider, remembering his "medieval hero armor" for his battle with T'raltixx.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to me," he told Angel forking some eggs onto his own plate. "If they can put up with me, anyone can. You should hear them try and use human slang," he added glancing at his friends.

Angel shook his head, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"Well, you now the difference between the willies and a woody, right?" John answered with a devilish twinkle in his eye, as he slyly glanced over at Aeryn who just glared daggers back at him. Angel chuckled and a genuine smile transformed his face. John got the feeling he didn't smile that often.

"So what's up?" he asked digging into his eggs.

Angel told them about the language spell and what he had found out from Dixon. The three were apprehensive about the first and very worried about the second.

"When you say spell, you mean magic?" asked John, voicing the concerns he and his shipmates felt. Their record with magic was shaky and their resident, butt-saving priest was still on Moya.

"It a pretty simple spell," said Angel reassuringly. "It won't hurt you in anyway."

"Are you sure there's no other way?" asked Aeryn through John.

"Yeah, but don't worry, Wesley knows what he's doing," Angel replied with confidence.

"Okay," sighed John. They didn't really have a choice, Aeryn and D'argo had to be able to communicate. "Now, what about the Langston thing?" he asked.

Angel took a deep breath, then said, "Wesley's looking up some stuff for me now, and later today, I'm going to look around a little more, see if I can find out where his lair is."

A quick glance at D'argo told John that his Luxan impatience was rising once again. He clenched fists, combined with his constant staring at the table warned John that he was barely containing himself from bursting out of the apartment.

"What can we do?" John asked.

"Nothing, I work alone, that way no one gets hurt," he answered glancing at each of them with his soulful eyes. He, too, had been through too much, John realized, seen far more than any being should.

Suddenly D'argo, unable to contain himself any longer, exploded across the table and grabbed Angel by the throat. "If you think I will sit by while my son is held prisoner, think again!!" he screamed at the very surprised vampire. The tension in the room mounted.

"He's going with you," John translated, watching D'argo carefully. Angel gazed into D'argo's angry eyes, then nodded. Seeing that he had made his point, the Luxan slowly let go and retrieved his chair. Still smoldering, he sat quietly and finished his eggs.

Now that D'argo was in control of himself, John turned his attention back to Angel. "Can I use your phone, long distance?" he asked tentatively. Please, please, please, his anxious thoughts chanted.

"Who're you gonna call?" Angel asked not moving from his seat.

"My dad," John answered. Aeryn's head snapped up from her meal, her eyes searching his. John gazed back, anchored in her beautiful eyes. He'd never thought he would really be able to talk to his dad again, especially after the false earth when all his hopes had come crashing down on him. Now the very real possibility hit him like a brick wall. All the rehearsed conversations he'd had on Moya flew out of his brain, leaving only worries. What would he say? What would his dad think? John swallowed the frog in his throat and tucked those burning questions into the back of his mind as Angel nodded and rose to lead him to the cordless phone.

Alone in Angel's bedroom, John stared at the receiver before dialing his dad's number in Florida. Part of his mind still couldn't believe he was doing this - hell, part of his mind couldn't believe he was on Earth! The phone rang three times before his dad answered.

"Hello?" said a tired voice that most definitely belonged to Jack Crichton. John let out a held breath of relief. His dad, his wonderful, magnificent dad, was on the phone.

"Hi…dad, it's me, John," he said nervously. There was silence on the other end.

"Who are you?" his dad asked shakily. John's heart skipped a beat.

"Dad, it's your son, John!" he said frantically, willing his father to believe.

"What kind of sick joke is this?" demanded his father, clearly angry now. John couldn't believe his ears. This wasn't supposed to be like this! His father was supposed to know and be happy!

"Dad," he said desperately, "it's me, I went through a wormhole! I can prove-"

"My son is dead!!" and the line cut off. Stunned, John dialed again. The phone rang nine times before his father picked up again.

"Please-" was all John managed before the dial tone reached his ear. "Dad!!" Desperately he dialed DK's number.

"Hello?"

"DK?" asked John, very nervously.

"Yeah? Who's this?" his friend asked.

"DK, don't hang up! It's John…John Crichton." He held his breath. Would DK listen? The silence seemed to last forever.

"John Crichton is dead," DK finally answered. John's heart stopped completely.

"Wait, DK, it's really me," John spluttered, "I've known you since kindergarten! We did our second grade science project on volcanoes together! In tenth grade we got suspended for blowing out a window in the chemistry lab!"

"John Crichton is dead!" DK shouted. John thought he heard tears in his voice. "He died over a year ago in space! Don't call back!" and the phone was slammed down.

John's mind reeled in shock. They hadn't believed that it was him. In their minds he was dead, no longer living, finitoed. Would I believe I was alive either? he asked himself, unable to answer. He was dead to them, gone forever in the emptiness of space. The displaced human sat down hard on the bed, sobbing into his hands.

*************

A few minutes later, Aeryn, worried when John didn't come back to finish his breakfast, found him alone in Angel's room with his head in his hands. Shudders racked his body, and Aeryn's brain slowly registered the fact that he was crying. What happened? she wondered urgently as she walked toward him. Her heart went out to his tortured soul as she tentatively placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He calmed under her gentle touch, the sobs subsiding into sniffles.

"Hey," she said quietly, using what had by now become their private code, patiently waiting for him to speak. For a long while he didn't move.

"They think I'm dead," he finally said lifting his head and meeting her gaze. Aeryn saw deep pain in his red and tear filled eyes. She didn't know what to say. What could she say that would help?

"When I tried to explain, they just hung up," he continued. "God, Aeryn, I'm on the freaking Earth and I can't even talk to the two people who mean the most to me!" John stood up and started pacing about the room.

"What would you say to them?" she asked, just letting him talk it out. She hadn't seen him this distressed since Gillina's death and it worried her.

"Oh, I don't know," he sighed rubbing his neck. "Nothing that isn't already on the tapes." Suddenly he stopped pacing. "The tapes!" he cried in anguish. "I left them on my bed in my quarters!"

Those tapes, Aeryn knew, were John's link to his past; he told his father everything on those tapes. Now it was his only way of telling his father that he was alive. A part of Aeryn wished that she had the same opportunity to tell her parents what had happened to her in her life.

"I can go back to Moya and get them," she heard herself offering. John's eyes lit up in hope.

"I'll go," he started, but Aeryn cut him off. Why did he always have to argue? she thought, frustrated. Why wouldn't he let her help him the way he was always helping her?

"No, I'll go. You are in no condition to fly right now," she told him, her face and eyes signaling to John that as far as she was concerned, the issue was settled. Besides, she thought, it will give me something to do other than sitting around here feeling useless.

****************

On Moya, Chiana was restlessly roaming the halls. The giant ship felt empty with half her crew gone and so did Chiana. Gliding toward quarters, she realized that she was actually worried about her absent shipmates. Their encounter with the false earth had been far from pleasant and Chiana didn't want a repeat on the real one. Things had changed in the time she had been aboard. She had changed, she thought coming to a halt in front of D'argo's room. Memories of all the times that John and D'argo, and even Aeryn, had come through for her floated around in her mind.

And what was Earth like anyway? she wondered, moving on and pausing at John's room. What mysteries did it hold? Her eyes fell on the tapes that John had left on his bed, his - what did he call them?- message in a bottle.

Chiana opened the door and picked up a couple of the tapes. The strange ciphers on the sides made no sense to her; they were as mysterious as John's earth. He would want these, she thought, suddenly coming to a decision.

Quickly, Chiana gathered the tapes into the waiting bag and ran out the door toward the pod bay. She was almost there when, Rygel rounded a corner and bowled into her, knocking her to the floor.

"Where the yotz are you going in such a hurry?" Rygel demanded testily while Chiana stuffed the spilled tapes back into the bag.

"Earth," she said, grinning at the stunned dominar before running on through the halls.

****************

Back in Angel's room, Pilot's voice suddenly burst over John and Aeryn's comms.

"Aeryn Sun, Chiana is on her way down to the planet," he said urgently.

"WHAT?!" both she and John shouted at the news. Why that good-for-nothing, lying, little thief! Aeryn thought, furious with the young Nebari. Chiana planetside meant trouble; in fact, Chiana anywhere meant trouble!

"Why is she coming down here?" she demanded.

"She said Crichton had forgotten something," Pilot told them. "Whatever that means," he added softly. Aeryn knew exactly what it meant - the tapes.

"Pilot, where's she landing?" asked John.

"She is heading for the same place you and D'argo landed," he replied. The dump again, Aeryn sighed. She was beginning to really hate that place.

"Thank you, Pilot," she said signing off. She glanced over at John next to her.

He gave her a tired, wry smile and said, "Here we go again."

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Part 5

John craned his neck to peer down yet another alley as they slowly drove away from the dump. Chiana had all but crashed the transport pod and by the time he, Aeryn and Wesley had arrived, she'd gone. Where she'd gone was another matter. John swore another oath as they continued their search of the decidedly seedy neighborhood. Rundown apartment buildings with rusted stairs and laundry flying out the windows and empty offices with faded signs still over the doors and blown out windows walled in rubbish strewn alleys and bumpy streets. Few people were about, for which John was very grateful. Those that worked had left for their nine o'clock jobs; those that didn't were still sleeping.

John hoped like hell that they would find Chiana before the police did, then he would wring her neck - only if Aeryn didn't beat him to it, of course, he thought glancing at the stone faced sebacean next to him. She was more pissed than a disturbed rattler before a meal.

Wesley slowed the car to a stop. "What's going on there?" he asked pointing to the next alley where a street gang had something cornered. John motioned for Wesley to turn off the engine and listened closely. The snippets of conversation he heard were more than enough to convince him that his favorite little thief was down that alley.

With a glance at Aeryn, the two jumped out of the convertible and quietly came up behind the gang. Eight young toughs, no older than twenty, blocked the mouth of the alley. They were in an arc that was slowly closing around Chiana who was trying to stall for time. Her eyes only flickered away from her attackers once when she saw John and Aeryn silently approach.

"Didn't yo momma tell you never go anywhere alone?" one of the black kids mockingly asked. He was a few feet to the right of Chiana and had a gun stuffed in his belt.

"Wha's a pretty pale thing like you doin' over here?" asked another kid just in front of Aeryn.

Chiana tilted her head and slowly smiled. "Kicking the dren out of you," John heard her say. Right on cue, John and Aeryn attacked.

John spun the nearest aspiring gangster around and punched him in the nose knocking him down and out. By his side Aeryn dropped another with graceful ease. The remaining six finally woke up and started to fight back. John deflected a jab to his head and lashed out with a kick that Aeryn had taught him, sending another boy to the ground, while Aeryn easily dispatched another two with lightning speed. A third kid came up behind her, pummeling her with his fists. John roughly pulled him off and held him for Aeryn's Pantak jab, which took him out. Meanwhile Chiana had swiped the black tough to the ground and kicked him where it counts, leaving him groaning on the ground. The final gang member ran for it, only to be hit in the head with the flat of Wesley's battleaxe.

"Well, that was exciting," said a slightly stunned Wesley. John nodded surveying the unconscious and groaning bodies on the ground around him with satisfaction. It was then that he noticed that Aeryn had Chiana by the throat.

"If you ever do that again...," Aeryn shouted in the Nebari's face. Chiana had a look of pure terror on her face as she gasped for breath.

John sighed. As much as he wanted her to, he couldn't let Aeryn kill Chiana. "Come on Aeryn," he said walking over and pulling her off from behind. Reluctantly, the ex-PeaceKeeper released her grip and stormed out of the alley past a completely confused Wesley.

"Thanks," said Chiana, smiling up at him. John didn't return the smile.

"Let's go, Pip," he said turning and walking away. So he had to save her life, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

******************

Down in Angel's apartment, Aeryn, D'argo, Chiana, and Wesley sat in a circle behind the couch around a candle and a wooden bowl of what Cordelia dubbed, talking paste. The room was dark except for the candle, which threw shadows into the corners and gave everyone a ghostly appearance. Angel had all but vanished from his perch on the stairs.

Wesley started to chant in Arkanian, beginning the translation spell. "Parmir soldat, bavare inec, parmir soldat, bavare inec…" Slowly, he took the bowl of paste and painted it onto the lips and throats of the three aliens before him. To their credit, they didn't flinch away or even bite, as Angel thought they might. Wesley continued to chant and, little by little, the paste started to disappear. He continued the incantation after it was all gone, getting softer and softer till there was only silence.

Softly, he blew out the candle and Cordelia switched on the lights. The three aliens looked a little bewildered by the whole ordeal.

"Did it work?" Aeryn asked, speaking to no one in particular. Angel was a little surprised. She had a beautiful voice, and while he had known they would be able to communicate, he hadn't expected the translation to be so flawless.

"Yes," Wesley answered staring at Aeryn in wonder. Suddenly coming back to himself, Wesley shook his head embarrassed and gathered up the candle and the bowl and took them to the very messy kitchen. "Cordelia, would you help me clean up?" he asked as he passed her and John knelling over the back of the couch.

"Do I have to?" she wailed. "After all, it's not like I made the mess!" Angel saw Aeryn roll her eyes at Cordy's whining. Ever since they had come back with Chiana half an hour ago, Cordelia seemed to annoy Aeryn simply by being her charming and extremely talkative self.

"I'll help," said John unexpectedly, pulling Angel back to the present. Wesley and Cordelia both stared at him as if asparagus had just sprouted from his ears. "What?" he asked them. "I'm no Betty Crocker but I do know how to do dishes," and with that, he sauntered into the kitchen followed by Wes and Aeryn. Angel smiled at the thought of John, in his black and red leather, wild hair, and tough guy attitude in a blue striped apron scrubbing dishes while his two assistants scurried around him like Keebler Elves.

"Wow!" breathed Chiana, pulling his attention back to the two other aliens rising from the floor. "Zhaan would love that! It was amazing!"

"What it was, was unnerving!" muttered D'argo. As he spoke, Angel's whole perception of the Luxan shifted. While Angel still didn't trust him, he didn't seem as dangerous. His voice was deep and soft, nothing like the harsh, echoing sounds of his native tongue that had made him so threatening before.

D'argo shook his head and brusquely turned toward Angel "Let's go," he said without preamble. The vampire nodded, recalling his agreement to take D'argo along on the search for the Langston's lair. He really didn't want to, he worked better alone, but he knew that if he didn't let D'argo come, the Luxan would go on his own. The thought of an angry, lost, warrior alien on the streets of LA did not sit well with Angel. At least he'd be able to keep an eye on him this way.

He walked over to the weapons cabinet and unlocked it. Inside was the familiar clutter of axes, knives, stakes, and swords of various shapes and sizes. As he chose a small ax and a stake, Angel sensed D'argo behind him.

"Formidable weapons," he said clearly admiring the array. He reached past Angel and gently lifted a bastard sword out of the cabinet. After hefting it and testing it's sharpness he said, "and in good condition." Angel met D'argo's eyes over the blade and realized that the alien's estimation of him had gone up, too.

"Thank you," he answered. Angel locked the cabinet and went into his room to get a cloak for D'argo. If he were going above ground he would definitely need it, he thought returning to the living room and opening the sewer entrance.

"Would you like-" started Wesley from the kitchen as the two, cloaked and armed, stepped out of the apartment into the sewer.

"No, Wesley. I don't want you coming with us. We'll be back later," Angel replied glancing around his crowded home one last time before disappearing into the dark.

**********************

"This is a nice place," Chiana commented, turning around to take in her surroundings. It was darkish with lots of pretty things that any enterprising girl would want. "You live here?" she asked sliding over to where Cordelia was watching her from the couch.

"What? No!" the dark-haired human girl exclaimed. "This place is way too dark and dungeony for me, though it suits Angel perfectly." Chiana looked around the beautiful room again, not seeing anything prison-like about it. It was comfortable, lived in, but somber, filled with shadows. She could see what Cordelia meant when she said it was perfect for the tall, silent, man in black.

"So what's the deal with those two?" asked Cordelia lowering her voice a little as she pointed to Chiana's crewmates in the kitchen. "They together?" Chiana smirked before answering.

"Oh they are definitely together," she replied. "They haven't really admitted it yet, but they're in love," she told the human, joining her on the couch.

"How can he stand her?" Cordelia asked inspecting Aeryn from afar. "She's as cold as ice and has absolutely no taste in clothes. If you ask me, he doesn't deserve her."

"Jealous?" asked Chiana, smiling innocently. Aeryn wasn't one of her favorite people but Crichton certainly was. Anyone else who felt the same must be alright she reasoned, really starting to like Cordelia.

"Come on, no one can ignore a bod that hot, even if he is a little old," Cordy told her matter of factly. "Don't tell me you've never tried to catch him." Chiana giggled and smiled slyly, remembering her first couple weeks on Moya.

"Well, yeah, in the beginning, but he didn't trust me and was by that time way to far gone with Aeryn. He'll do anything for her," Chiana stopped, unwilling to dive into painful memories of how much John was willing to suffer to keep those he loved safe. The pair watched Crichton's back washing dishes for a couple microns in silence, sharing the moment.

"I was in love with him for a while because he stood up for me and gave me a chance," Chiana finally said. "Now it's different. Now he's more like a big brother."

Cordelia nodded. "Angel's like that," she said. "Always checking over my shoulder, keeping me safe from all the big, bad demons that hit on me. Not that I mind when it gets nasty, but it's really embarrassing when he and Wesley check out my perfectly unevil dates."

Chiana grinned knowingly. "At least you only have two people watching you; I have four!"

"John, Aeryn…" Cordelia left it hanging.

"D'argo and Zhaan," Chiana finished. "Mostly I do what I want, but I'm always the first one blamed when things go wrong."

"Aren't we always," answered Cordelia. They glanced at each other, then erupted in giggles. Chiana cherished the sound of their shared laughter. It felt so wonderful to have someone her own age to talk to who really understood some of the things in her crazy, dangerous existence.

"So who's this Zhaan?" asked Cordelia when they had regained control of themselves.

"She's the Delvian priestess who mothers all of us all the time," Chiana told her, rolling her eyes. "She's really powerful though," she added, "and you definitely don't want to make her mad."

"It's better to avoid Angel's bad side too," Cordy replied.

"Why's he so depressed all the time?" Chiana asked curiously. The man had barely spoken while she'd been there and his face had been dark and worried.

Cordelia sighed before answering. "He's got a soul," she said as if that explained it. Chiana tilted her head wondering what in the universe was a soul; there was no translation in Nebari. Cordelia explained when she realized that Chiana had no clue as to what she was talking about. "Vampires don't have souls, so now he remembers every evil thing he ever did as a vampire and has to help the hopeless to make things right again."

The explanation sent a chill down Chiana's back. A soul was a device that brought back bad memories? She quickly glanced at John in the kitchen. It sounded as bad as the Aurora Chair. "So what's this soul thing look like?" she asked.

"What?" the Cordelia said surprised. "You don't know what a soul is?" she asked with a slight smile on her lips. Puzzled by her reaction, Chiana shook her head no.

"OK, a soul," said Cordelia. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she thought. "A soul is…well…" she paused, her face scrunched up looking for the right words. "It's part of you that…tells you what's right and wrong and makes you feel bad about the wrong stuff you do." Cordelia paused not satisfied with her answer. "Look, it doesn't matter. Basically, it keeps Angel from killing us like he would if he didn't have one."

Chiana smiled partly in relief, partly at the funny expressions Cordelia made when she spoke. Nothing to hurt them here.

"Can I ask you something?" said Cordelia suddenly changing subject. "Where did you get your clothes?" she asked, eyeing Chiana's blue-gray outfit. Chiana looked herself over trying to remember where she was when she had liberated these clothes from an outdoor market. It had been well before Salis caught her.

"I don't remember."

Cordelia shook her head in mock despair. "Girl, we are going shopping."

***********************

Meanwhile, in the kitchen area Wesley, John, and Aeryn cleaned up the mess made from the breakfast dishes and the spell paste. Wesley was still surprised that John had offered to help and then Aeryn had come too. The pair of them were definitely not the domestic types. Wesley had been very impressed with their fighting skills in the alley and was actually a little in awe of them.

They were skilled warriors like Angel, roughing up those who dared to harm the helpless. Fighting against injustice and evil so that the world would be a better place. A man and a woman, the perfect team, the perfect couple, always ready with a kind word and supporting hand for the innocent…

"I can't stand that girl!" snapped Aeryn. "She's worse than you and Chiana put together!" she told John. Wesley sighed - so much for his illusions. "Did you hear her earlier?" Aeryn turning to Wesley in a sharp, too controlled manner as John started filling the sink with water. "She never shuts the frell up!"

"Aeryn, calm down," John told her squirting soap into the water. "She's just talkative."

"John, you're talkative, and compared to her you're silent," fumed Aeryn.

"Now there's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one," John told Wesley over his shoulder. The ex-Watcher smiled shyly as he stacked up the dirty dishes, not wanting to intrude upon the conversation.

"And the two of them together make me nervous," continued Aeryn, ignoring John's comment.

"Yeah, I'm with you there," answered John, glancing at the chatting girls over his shoulder. Following his gaze, Wesley wondered what Chiana was like to elicit such a response.

She didn't seem to be dangerous at all, just young and curious. And pretty, he added. Wesley shook his head, banishing the thought. With his luck he'd fall flat on his face as he was greeting her. Even if he did get a sentence out without sounding like an idiot, she'd still be leaving eventually and he would never see her again.

Cordelia caught him staring and waved causing Wesley to quickly turn his blushing face away from his beautiful coworker. He didn't want to think about his flighty friend right now. Now they have something, he thought as he watched John and Aeryn wash and dry the dishes in perfect harmony. Wesley idly wondered if he was ever going to find the right woman.

"So, Dr. Crichton," he ventured trying to distract himself from the unpleasant topic of the opposite sex, "you earned two PhDs and became an astronaut at the same time?" John's head snapped up from the frying pan he was scrubbing.

"Whoa! Where'd you find that out?" he asked searching Wesley's face cautiously.

"The Internet," was the hasty reply. John's face cracked into a crooked grin.

"Find anything there, can't you?" he smiled. "Yeah, DK and me spent about eight years working on the both of them at MIT. I flew my first shuttle mission about six years in." The smile faded as John went on a trip down memory lane.

"That's remarkable!" breathed Wesley, amazed. After reading the article, Wesley had been hesitant to believe it, but hearing it from the horse's mouth so to speak, made it real. The work it must have taken to train to fly in space and to earn, not one, but two doctorates must have been incredible. Wesley felt his knees go weak at the thought that he was standing next to the smartest man he'd probably ever meet.

"What's a P.H.D.?" asked Aeryn with a perplexed expression on her face.

John leered at her as he answered, "it means I'm really smart!" Aeryn gave him a look of disgust.

"Can't mean much then, can it?" she said dryly. Wesley saw a flicker of something cross John's face when she said that, but instead of saying anything, John just winked at them and handed Aeryn the dripping frying pan. Terrific, Wesley thought himself, he'd done it again, time to change the subject.

"I wonder how Angel and your friend are doing on their search," he tried hoping to ease the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them.

"Angel looks capable enough," shrugged John, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. Aeryn gave Wesley the frying pan to put up with concern etched in her features. "And D'argo knows what he's doing," continued John. "I hope."

"As long as he doesn't go into hyper-rage, they'll be alright," added Aeryn. The two looked at each other. Wesley could see that they felt as helpless as he did, probably even imagining the same horrors he was at the inevitable clash between the alien and the creatures that walked the Earth.

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Part 6

The assaulting stench of rot and rubbish almost overpowered D'argo's nose when he stepped through the grate into the sewer system after Angel. The tunnels were large and relatively dry but the stench was amazing. The tall vampire confidently led the way through the maze of tunnels beneath the city streets. Neither warrior spoke a word into the darkness, which suited D'argo. He didn't entirely trust the being before him in the long, black coat. He was a stranger that he was forced to follow to find his son and he was not comfortable with that thought.

"Where are we going?" he asked suddenly, not wishing to be led into a trap. Angel paused and looked over his shoulder at him

"Were going to see if we can find the Langston's lair," he answered continuing onward. "From what Wesley found out, they like quiet, open spaces but that means nothing in LA. So we're going to see somebody who usually keeps tabs on the richer demons in town."

D'argo grunted a response. It sounded reasonable. Before he could ponder the question any longer, Angel started to climb a ladder up into shadows above. With a last check to make sure the cloak was in place, D'argo followed.

They emerged into an ally that smelled as bad or worse than the sewers below.

"How do you stand the smell?!" D'argo exclaimed scrunching his face in disgust.

The vampire smiled, slightly surprised. "Just do," he replied. Angel had turned toward a side door on the left-hand building, when D'argo heard a voice behind him.

"Gimme your jewels and yo' wallet and you wont get hurt!" D'argo turned around to face his attacker. He was a smallish man, dirty, with a cloth tied onto his head. In his hand was a projectile weapon, much like a pulse gun, aimed at D'argo's middle. To the Luxon's experienced eye, he was no more than a street thug, inexperienced in real fighting. Without a second thought, D'argo zapped out his tongue and the mugger crumpled to the ground.

"What was that?" asked Angel who had watched the whole ten second exchange.

"Nothing" said D'argo joining him at the door. Angel gave him a thoughtful look before opening the door and the Luxan returned it, stare for stare. There was much that the vampire did not know about him and D'argo intended for it to stay that way as they continued their hunt for his son.

************************

His head hurt. The rest of his body ached but there was a star going supernova in Jothee's head as he slowly regained consciousness. After cracking his eyes open, he quickly decided that seeing wasn't worth the shooting stars that burned into his brain. It didn't matter anyway since he had already memorized the details of his prison. He was in a small room with a wooden floor and no windows, chained to the bed in the far corner. The only other furniture were two chairs in the center of the room - one of plain wood and one of iron, bolted to the floor.

Just thinking about the chair sent shivers of terror racing through Jothee's thin frame. Everyday since they had come to this place, the sebacean bounty hunter, Jeseri Kyff, had chained him to that chair and forced him to watch and listen to the 'truth about his heritage'.

Kyff had begun with his parents, telling of his mother, Lolaan's abduction and rape by his father Ka D'argo. The result had been him, a mongrel to be sold, when he was large enough to attract a sizable offer, to a certain scientist notorious for his extensive and often fatal research on interspecies breeding. Then Kyff showed him how the PeaceKeepers had found his mother murdered, tortured at the hands of her supposed husband.

Jothee squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of the holovid image of his mother's cut and bleeding body surfaced in his mind. From what he remembered of his parents and from what Rai G'arin had told him, Jothee could not believe that his father had killed her. But what if he had? What if Kyff was right? He had the records from not just the PeaceKeepers but the local authorities as well. Who else would kill a civilian sebacean woman? Kyff's question echoed through the boy's pounding head.

Jothee didn't know anymore. After days of hearing of his father's and Rai G'arin's crimes, of seeing the holovids of people he had grown up with killed because of his presence in their lives, all Jothee wanted was to crawl into a hole in the ground and just float into oblivion, but the pain wouldn't go away. Every time he had tried to turn away, to say it wasn't so, they injected him with a serum that burned in his blood and set off explosions in his head that amplified every word Kyff said and every image Kyff showed, so that there was no relief, no escape from the barrage.

Just stop, the young Luxan cried out in his tortured thoughts as more images of mutilated friends surfaced in his mind. Rolling over and burying his aching head in his pillow, Jothee muffled his sobs from his captors in the next room.

************************

Having been talked into joining the two young women on their shopping trip, Wesley found himself walking down the sidewalk of an outdoor shopping center carrying two bags of clothes. Why he had ever agreed to come was beyond him. Back at Angel's place, John and Aeryn had decided to come so that John could mail some things to his father and so the two of them could keep an eye on Chiana who had threatened to sneak out with Cordelia no matter what, something Wesley did not find reassuring at all. The former Watcher hated shopping, especially with Cordelia who had a habit of dropping her purchases in his arms and rushing off to the next garment that caught her fancy. Being the good friend and gentleman that he was though; Wesley never left them on the sidewalk-no matter how great the temptation.

He sighed, resigned to be Cordelia's porter and trailed behind the others into the next strange shop. This one had black walls and some very weird clothing made of fake leather and polyester in colors like electric purple and razor orange. Chains, nose and bellybutton rings, and other paraphernalia one associated with Hells Angels were everywhere. A heavily made up and disguised Chiana in one of Cordelia's spare shirts she always had at Angel's, was giggling with his esteemed colleague over yet another rack of tank-tops. The two had taken quite a shine to each other, he noted, once again marveling at the universal traits of young females. He couldn't help but shake his head and flash a wry grin at his fellow male, John, who just shrugged his shoulders, as both men noted that the twosome were not looking at the shirts, but instead were concentrating on the young man with his back to them on the other side.

Wesley sighed again, slightly relieved that they hadn't come in here for the merchandise. If they had, well, he didn't want to think about what that might mean, it was too frightening. He looked around to see what John Crichton and Aeryn were doing, suddenly wishing they hadn't left their weapons in Angel's apartment. Unlike Chiana and Cordelia, neither one had bought anything on this outing. John seemed content to show off the wonders of the world to Aeryn as if they were on a field trip, which Wesley supposed they were. They kept stopping to talk and bicker about various things such as movies and ice cream - Wesley hadn't been able to follow that conversation at all. Right now, they were discussing body piercing.

"Why would someone purposely poke holes in their body?" asked Aeryn fiddling with a belly chain.

"Got me there," replied John. "I guess they think it's cool." Aeryn snorted.

"So next time the environmentals get out of control I should simply cut a hole in my nose," she joked.

John laughed good-naturedly at Aeryn's misunderstanding of human slang. "Aeryn Sun, biker woman extrodinaire!" he exclaimed. Wesley smiled at the crack. Aeryn certainly did look like a biker chic with all that leather, he thought. "You do realize," John continued playfully, "that I would not be able to see you ever again if you did that."

"Oh and why is that?" asked Aeryn smiling.

"Because no self respecting gentleman would ever associate with that kind of riffraff," he answered standing up straight and looking down his nose at her.

"Good thing you aren't a self respecting gentleman then, isn't it?" she coolly replied, drawing another smile from her companion. Wesley sighed envying the obvious closeness between them.

Just then a woman stumbled into Wesley interrupting his thoughts and eavesdropping, sending Cordy's bags flying to the floor. She was tall and blond, wearing jeans and a red sleeveless shirt. On the whole, Wes found her quite attractive.

"Oh, excuse me!" she said as Wesley helped her regain her balance.

"No, not…not at all," he stuttered in reply. She was very beautiful and he desperately didn't want to come off as a geek.

"Here, let me help you with your bags," she said stooping to help him. Wesley smiled a thanks as they picked up the bags and put everything back in order. "So," the woman said, "do you come here often?" She was asking him a question, he thought, starting to panic. What should he say that would keep her here talking? he wondered frantically, yes or no. As he agonized over what to say, the woman waited patiently and started to play with her tongue ring.

"No, I'm here with a friend," said Wesley deflated. Just his luck: the most beautiful woman in the world had tumbled into his arms flirting, and she had a tongue ring. Maybe it could work, he mused knowing that it would never happen. The very idea of a steel post through anywhere, much less the tongue, gave him the shivers.

As the woman left, the rogue demon hunter dejectedly wandered over to where John and Aeryn were now arguing over the design of a T-shirt.

"Why would they have a picture of something that doesn't exist?" Aeryn was saying.

"Because it looks neat! I don't know," said John, clearly exasperated.

"So you lie to your people about what's real and what's not?" pressed Aeryn, clearly not comprehending.

"No, everyone knows that it's not real, that it's made up. Look, Aeryn, it's for entertainment," John tried again.

"But what if someone didn't know it was not real," Aeryn asked. Wesley could tell that the subject bothered her for some unknown reason, but he couldn't fathom why.

"Aeryn," wailed John. "Then they're stupid! This is not something we covered in Philosophy 101!" John noticed Wesley watching them with sad amusement then. "She is impossible!" he told him, throwing up his hands. Before Wesley could say anything, he saw a flicker of recognition in John's eyes as the astronaut saw something over the shoulder of the Englishman. Turning quickly to see what had attracted John's attention, Wesley only saw more racks of clothes.

"Let's just get out of here," snapped Aeryn not noticing the men's distraction.

"Right," said John coming back to himself. "You go find Chiana," he told her. Aeryn was about to protest but John had already left them, heading for whatever he had seen behind Wesley.

*****************************

Crichton's culture was so frustrating! fumed Aeryn as she crossed the store to Chiana, her mood steadily going from bad to worse. It was based completely on *entertainment*, a completely useless facet of any society. It did have its uses, she conceded, but here it was everywhere.

Aeryn quickly quelled the pang of jealousy that surged through her. She wished for one microt that she could have lived in a place where people cared about having fun, making people happy. She wished that she could have experienced the 'escape' that John described when he had told her about movies he'd seen and music he'd listened to growing up. In Aeryn's youth as a PeaceKeeper there was no 'escape'. She trained, she fought, she killed, she obeyed orders. The music she listened to was martial, the

stories - tales of legendary captains, like Durka, who won great victories, the holovids-propaganda expounding on the superiority of Sebaceans in general and Peacekeepers in particular. Entertainment - like relationships, like love, was a meaningless concept.

But why would she want to be lied to? she raionalized. There seemed to be nothing that was solidly real on this planet. The advertisements, Crichton had said, twisted the truth to present merchandise in the best way. Half the clothes bore pictures of things that didn't even exist! False newsprint, real newsprint, where did they draw the line? she asked herself. No wonder Crichton was so bizarre, his planet was more frelled than he was.

She reached the clothes rack where Chiana and the human girl were talking with another young human male. "We're leaving," she brusquely informed them, still fed up with human culture. She glanced over Chiana briefly, still amazed by the change in her appearance and was forced to admit that the human girl had done a very good job disguising her - Chiana's white hair and human colored skin looked very odd, but fitting in this shop.

"We're not ready yet," said Cordelia in reply to Aeryn's announcement. She turned back to the young man. "Just ignore her," she said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah the audition for Pete Malenkov…"

Fine, thought Aeryn angrily, she can stay. "Come on, Chiana," she said holding her anger in check. The human could stay and prattle all she wanted, for all Aeryn cared, but she wasn't about to let Chiana loose on the city since all that meant was a mess that she and Crichton would have to clean up, as usual.

"Look, lady, we are in the middle of a conversation here," snapped Cordelia turning to face Aeryn, before Chiana could answer. "Chiana doesn't have to do what you say and she is part of this conversation too. So why don't you back off?"

Aeryn clenched her teeth and choked down the urge to kill the girl. She turned instead and glared at Chiana who was smirking at her. What was it Crichton had told her about Chiana? Count to ten slowly before even thinking about punching her out. Too late, she thought savagely as she walked a little ways off, counting down the numbers.

Cordelia turned back to the young man. "Control freak," she told him unaware that Aeryn was still in hearing distance. "I have no clue what her problem is."

"Is she always like this?" the boy asked. Chiana grinned, and, glancing at Aeryn behind them, wisely chose to stay silent on the subject, apparently remembering the time the crew had discussed leaving Moya when Pilot could hear. Cordelia just continued talking, oblivious to Chiana's attempted warnings and Aeryn clenching her fists behind her.

"I don't know, but from what I've seen, she has a major attitude problem. She glares at me all the time and when I try to have a friendly little conversation with her she storms off acting all superior. And you should see the guy she came in with, now he's messed up. He talks all the time and makes the dumbest jokes you've ever heard, running around like some idiot tour guide for Miss High and Mighty there. He's like a big slobbering puppy that she just pushes away with her Ice Queen look. And that hair - let's not even go there." Aeryn listened to Cordelia rant with fire blazing in her eyes, barely containing the rage she felt inside. She had had enough of Crichton's insufferable culture, enough of the looks Chiana and Cordelia gave her over their laughter, and enough of the insults and incessant babbling. So when Cordelia finished her tirade with, "No offence Chiana, but he's more than a little crazy," she had gone too far.

"Uh, Cordy?" ventured Chiana in warning, but it was too late. Aeryn swung Cordelia around and delivered a knockout jab to her head.