A/N: Okay, here goes. This is my first foray into the Farscape world of fan fiction. Anyone who knows me from either my previous Trek or Dark Angel worlds knows I don't read fan fiction unless it's specifically referred to me by specific people, so if I'm treading on toes here, please forgive my ignorance, I meant no disrespect to those that have been in this fandom for so much longer than I.
I have absolutely no self-confidence when it comes to breaking into new fandoms, so once this is posted, you'll find me hiding away waiting for bombs to drop on my head. LOL I haven't got my feet under me just yet with Farscape, so as much as I love to write, the romantic epics I'm known for in other genres won't be forthcoming just yet in the world of Farscape.
As a warning, I have seen the final four episodes, I do tend to allude to them in most of what I write unless I choose to specifically write fictions based before Icarus Abides. I doubt I really spoil anything in this one, like I said, it's just vague allusion, but depending on how sensitive some of you are to spoilers, consider yourself on the alert.
They're not mine, they belong to the Henson Company, Rockne S. O'Bannon, and everyone involved, I'm just borrowing them for a while and mutating their inner voices. What can I say? It's fun.
Nameless Stars
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
It really is amazing what a beating heart can survive. Not so long ago, I stood staring out over a dirty city, watching the sun rise and fall, wondering what it would feel like to take a single step forward and meet the ground far below.
At the time I saw no harm in my actions; Crais would take care of Talyn; Rygel and Stark didn't need me; and John? John was the reason I found myself there at all. It still astonishes me how only a few short cycles could have changed me so drastically. A few short solar days could entrap me so deeply. A few short microts could destroy me so thoroughly.
I loved John. I can say that now without the worry or fear that used to propel me away from that particular emotion. He was my perfection. I suppose that losing him took me a step backwards in my personal evolution; I've never been soft, but his love helped to smooth away the sharpest of my edges. Of course, his love also left me in this frelled up emotional state that I could have avoided by avoiding him. Without him, I've begun shutting down once more, allowing the world to pass me by without my particular care. I figure the faster I can close off these emotions, the faster this ripping, stark black pain will leave me be.
Sometimes, I look out Talyn's windows and watch the stars pass us by, realizing in an excruciating moment that those stars no longer have names. Suns shine and blur as we carry forward in what now seems less like an adventure and more like a never-ending journey. The others have grown quiet around me, even Rygel, and I find myself left to my own devices. I prefer it this way, wandering Talyn's tiers silently, trying not to remember time spent in this spot or that. It really isn't as torturous as the others believe; after all, most times it's better than sitting in my quarters unable to stop remembering.
Those are the times I become what John would have called "human". It's the hours at night, when Talyn's lights are dimmed for sleep, that I find my cheeks wet with tears I'm barely conscious of shedding. It's when I lay down and swear I can feel John's arms around me, his breath on the back of my neck and his body pressed against mine that I begin to wonder if I'm going insane. It's when I wake in the morning, shivering without his heat to warm me that I begin to realize that I truly am alone.
Now, only a few precious solar days after he died in my arms, when I still don't believe the words, "Don't worry about me," will ever stop making me flinch, both my pain and confusion have intensified once more. Talyn has picked up a signal from Moya and changed course to intercept. We're going home. Not so long ago I would have looked forward to this day, now, I dread looking out Talyn's windows and seeing the large shape of his Leviathan mother looming before us. Moya is where *he* exists. John Crichton. Alive and well, living in ignorance, blissfully unaware of everything that has shattered my world throughout our separation. His human enthusiasm will propel him towards me, and I'm well aware of the look he'll give me when he realizes that enthusiasm is no longer returned.
It's not that I wish to abandon our friendship entirely, but how can I look at him every day and not remember? How can I pretend that life is normal once more when it's John's eyes into which I'm gazing and John's voice that is calling my name, knowing all the while that it's not my John, because my John no longer exists?
Sometimes I believe I was brought into existence just so that someone's God could amuse himself solely with my agony. "Look," he'd say, "Aeryn Sun's been relatively happy for four microts, let's see what I can do to her now."
I've come to the conclusion that life is just one big mind frell, and sometimes I wish it would all just end.
Talyn is hurtling us towards what will very likely be the final few solar days that we will all be together. I can't speak for my companions, however I don't believe I'll be remaining on Moya or Talyn much further. If I let him, John will destroy me absently; my only defense is to leave. I can take what is thrown at me, I never give up, but John is who he was born to be: an explorer, a hero, a man who will sacrifice everything for anyone who needs it, and I can't be there when he dies once more.
There are other things to consider now, and as I look out Talyn's windows one last time, my fingers resting across my flat stomach, Moya's presence in the near distance grinds that knowledge home. I have my reasons for feeling as I do and for now I'll hang on to the belief that when it comes time to walk away, John will understand and let me go without explanation. I only hope that when it is finally over, I will still have the strength to say goodbye to what remains of the only person I have ever truly loved.
End.
I have absolutely no self-confidence when it comes to breaking into new fandoms, so once this is posted, you'll find me hiding away waiting for bombs to drop on my head. LOL I haven't got my feet under me just yet with Farscape, so as much as I love to write, the romantic epics I'm known for in other genres won't be forthcoming just yet in the world of Farscape.
As a warning, I have seen the final four episodes, I do tend to allude to them in most of what I write unless I choose to specifically write fictions based before Icarus Abides. I doubt I really spoil anything in this one, like I said, it's just vague allusion, but depending on how sensitive some of you are to spoilers, consider yourself on the alert.
They're not mine, they belong to the Henson Company, Rockne S. O'Bannon, and everyone involved, I'm just borrowing them for a while and mutating their inner voices. What can I say? It's fun.
Nameless Stars
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
It really is amazing what a beating heart can survive. Not so long ago, I stood staring out over a dirty city, watching the sun rise and fall, wondering what it would feel like to take a single step forward and meet the ground far below.
At the time I saw no harm in my actions; Crais would take care of Talyn; Rygel and Stark didn't need me; and John? John was the reason I found myself there at all. It still astonishes me how only a few short cycles could have changed me so drastically. A few short solar days could entrap me so deeply. A few short microts could destroy me so thoroughly.
I loved John. I can say that now without the worry or fear that used to propel me away from that particular emotion. He was my perfection. I suppose that losing him took me a step backwards in my personal evolution; I've never been soft, but his love helped to smooth away the sharpest of my edges. Of course, his love also left me in this frelled up emotional state that I could have avoided by avoiding him. Without him, I've begun shutting down once more, allowing the world to pass me by without my particular care. I figure the faster I can close off these emotions, the faster this ripping, stark black pain will leave me be.
Sometimes, I look out Talyn's windows and watch the stars pass us by, realizing in an excruciating moment that those stars no longer have names. Suns shine and blur as we carry forward in what now seems less like an adventure and more like a never-ending journey. The others have grown quiet around me, even Rygel, and I find myself left to my own devices. I prefer it this way, wandering Talyn's tiers silently, trying not to remember time spent in this spot or that. It really isn't as torturous as the others believe; after all, most times it's better than sitting in my quarters unable to stop remembering.
Those are the times I become what John would have called "human". It's the hours at night, when Talyn's lights are dimmed for sleep, that I find my cheeks wet with tears I'm barely conscious of shedding. It's when I lay down and swear I can feel John's arms around me, his breath on the back of my neck and his body pressed against mine that I begin to wonder if I'm going insane. It's when I wake in the morning, shivering without his heat to warm me that I begin to realize that I truly am alone.
Now, only a few precious solar days after he died in my arms, when I still don't believe the words, "Don't worry about me," will ever stop making me flinch, both my pain and confusion have intensified once more. Talyn has picked up a signal from Moya and changed course to intercept. We're going home. Not so long ago I would have looked forward to this day, now, I dread looking out Talyn's windows and seeing the large shape of his Leviathan mother looming before us. Moya is where *he* exists. John Crichton. Alive and well, living in ignorance, blissfully unaware of everything that has shattered my world throughout our separation. His human enthusiasm will propel him towards me, and I'm well aware of the look he'll give me when he realizes that enthusiasm is no longer returned.
It's not that I wish to abandon our friendship entirely, but how can I look at him every day and not remember? How can I pretend that life is normal once more when it's John's eyes into which I'm gazing and John's voice that is calling my name, knowing all the while that it's not my John, because my John no longer exists?
Sometimes I believe I was brought into existence just so that someone's God could amuse himself solely with my agony. "Look," he'd say, "Aeryn Sun's been relatively happy for four microts, let's see what I can do to her now."
I've come to the conclusion that life is just one big mind frell, and sometimes I wish it would all just end.
Talyn is hurtling us towards what will very likely be the final few solar days that we will all be together. I can't speak for my companions, however I don't believe I'll be remaining on Moya or Talyn much further. If I let him, John will destroy me absently; my only defense is to leave. I can take what is thrown at me, I never give up, but John is who he was born to be: an explorer, a hero, a man who will sacrifice everything for anyone who needs it, and I can't be there when he dies once more.
There are other things to consider now, and as I look out Talyn's windows one last time, my fingers resting across my flat stomach, Moya's presence in the near distance grinds that knowledge home. I have my reasons for feeling as I do and for now I'll hang on to the belief that when it comes time to walk away, John will understand and let me go without explanation. I only hope that when it is finally over, I will still have the strength to say goodbye to what remains of the only person I have ever truly loved.
End.