A/N: Hey, folks, I realize it's been a while since I've written a serious Farscape fic, and fortunately, this may or may not be considered such. This was spawned by the postings that with the cancellation of Farscape, Pilot has already been dismantled and placed in a box for storage... unfortunately, that comment saddened me more than even the news of this great travesty was able. So, what do I do when something strikes me as ever so wrong? I write. :) Even when it is as depressing as all hell. :P
They're obviously not mine... if they were, Farscape wouldn't be able to be shown on television, or at least they'd never be taken off. :) They belong to Rockne S. O'Bannon, Hensen Production company, et. al. I just borrow them sometimes and mutate their inner voices.
Locked Away
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
Darkness surrounded him. He couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face, and was unable to twist his body to see what was behind him. His arms lay pinned at his side, useless appendages as his claws twitched and reached without cause. He was alone.
"Commander Crichton? Officer Sun? I am unable to see you and I can no longer hear Moya... can anybody hear me? Ka D'Argo? Chiana? Dominar Rygel? Please, somebody... I am very afraid."
Memories of times past flooded Pilot's thoughts as he struggled for calm amidst the sudden absolute quiet in his mind. He remembered the day they first escaped the peacekeepers, battling for their lives, rescuing their two stray comrades along the way: the first time he'd ever seen a human... the arrival of the only peacekeeper he'd ever come to trust. Pilot remembered more than just the first day, however. Four cycles of memories flittered by: the birth of Talyn, Crais's betrayal, John's insanity, Aeryn's death. Tears filled the large creature's eyes as he remembered vividly every painful moment, watching Aeryn plunge into the freezing ocean... standing by, unable to help, unable to breath as they brought her body ashore, knowing that the beautiful Aeryn Sun would be no more. His tears spilled over as he recalled the cost of her return, the death of the wise and wonderful P'au Zotoh Zhaan. Her personality had been less than stable, her own actions causing Pilot pain on more than one occasion, and yet, still, her death rocked the small crew to its core.
Turning his mind from such maudlin times, Pilot focused in on other memories... memories of stars seen, space traveled, and strangers met. Over the cycles they'd added to their ragtag crew, and Pilot thought fondly upon each new friend. Chiana, the sweet little Nebari who wanted so desperately just to be noticed. Jool, the annoying and yet somehow loveable princess whose screams had caused both Pilot and Moya to flinch on repeated occasions. Noranti, whose powders and potions had caused more mishap among the crew than even Chiana's fondness for strange men. Even Sikozu, so recently added that a firm opinion of her character could not yet be decided upon. Sikozu was an enigma, one was forced to like her at times, forced to hate her at others; nobody could be sure if the young red head would betray them, and yet still she remained, a part of them, a piece of the fragile little family four cycles on the run had forged.
"Please, anybody..." Pilot tried again, desperately searching out Moya, knowing, however, that the numbness below his waist indicated his removal from her systems, realizing at the same time that in a short while, without his Leviathan counter part, he would slowly begin to die. "Moya, I am very afraid, I can only imagine how you must feel." Pilot hung his head in shame, shame for his concentration on his own fear and displacement, realizing now that Moya must be suffering just as intensely. He had no idea how he'd gotten here, no idea what had happened to rend the separation between Leviathan and Pilot, and yet, Moya was gone, and Pilot was alone for the first time in many cycles.
Whatever he was in shifted, and Pilot felt himself being lifted into the air, swinging high over whatever scene existed below. No sunlight filtered through his airtight crate, no relief from the darkness and solitude. Ever so slowly, Pilot began to weep, for his loss, for his imminent death, for Moya's fear, for the fact that without him his crew could no longer journey to their homes. With Pilot locked away, Moya would be blind, flying into danger, finding herself soon lost and afraid. John Crichton would never find earth, never return to the family for whom he'd so desperately searched through the last four cycles. Aeryn Sun would never discover the soft, compassionate side of her nature Pilot was sure existed. She would never give birth to her child, never settle down into a peaceful life with the man she loved. She and Crichton would never find the moment they deserved to make what was between them right again. Ka D'Argo would never find Lo'laan's family; never exact revenge upon the deserving Macton. Dominar Rygel would never retrieve his throne from his usurping cousin; never again know the sweet feeling of worship. Sweet, young Chiana would never find her brother and never free their people from the deep oppression in which they live. They needed Pilot, someone to guide them, hold them together, watch over and love them as both the symbiant and the Leviathan had done for four long cycles. The crew was his and Moya's family, and each, in their own way, were deeply loved.
"Moya..."
Her name sprung to his lips much as a prayer to Zhaan's. He missed the Leviathan terribly, not due to the fact that without her Pilot would surely die, but rather because she'd grown to be his constant companion. Through out everything they'd remained together, over coming their challenges, fighting for the lives they lived joined to each other's bodies. Her voice was his soul, her song his heart, her life his life. Together they were amazing, separate, Pilot was certain they would crumble. Wherever she was, his beautiful Leviathan mate, surely Moya would survive and move on, unlike her symbiant counter part and for that Pilot was grateful. At least when it was over, when his empty tubing finally stopped searching for food, when his heart finally stopped pumping blood slowly from his severed veins, when his mind slowly stopped struggling to remain conscious in the wake of all that was before him, Pilot would live on in the hearts and minds of those who loved him, but most especially in the ever beautiful Moya.
"Goodbye, my friends," the weakening Pilot whispered, feeling the crate around him jerk and settle onto the ground. All sounds around him faded as somewhere a cargo door slid shut, and Pilot was alone once again. "I shall miss you all terribly."
He looked around himself one last time, his heart aching as he realized he would never more look out to see the beautiful skies and stars as they passed them by. He would never again see the radiant loveliness of a new planet or a new sun as they slowly drew orbit nearby. He would never again know the freedom he had come to love. Clear tears streamed over colored flesh one final time as Pilot bowed his head, focusing his sight on his ever-moving digits. Soon it would be over. Soon he would see no more, hear no more, and blessedly think no more, and then, the sweet, gentle Pilot could rest.
"Moya," his voice cracked, tears pooling upon his flesh as he struggled to keep her image in his mind, "Please, I do not want to be alone, my Moya."
The silence that came was expected, but expectation wasn't able to ease the breaking of the fragile Pilot's heart. A life lived in symbiosis did not deserve a solitary death, but when Pilot's last breath fluttered past his graying lips, he was alone.
End
They're obviously not mine... if they were, Farscape wouldn't be able to be shown on television, or at least they'd never be taken off. :) They belong to Rockne S. O'Bannon, Hensen Production company, et. al. I just borrow them sometimes and mutate their inner voices.
Locked Away
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
Darkness surrounded him. He couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face, and was unable to twist his body to see what was behind him. His arms lay pinned at his side, useless appendages as his claws twitched and reached without cause. He was alone.
"Commander Crichton? Officer Sun? I am unable to see you and I can no longer hear Moya... can anybody hear me? Ka D'Argo? Chiana? Dominar Rygel? Please, somebody... I am very afraid."
Memories of times past flooded Pilot's thoughts as he struggled for calm amidst the sudden absolute quiet in his mind. He remembered the day they first escaped the peacekeepers, battling for their lives, rescuing their two stray comrades along the way: the first time he'd ever seen a human... the arrival of the only peacekeeper he'd ever come to trust. Pilot remembered more than just the first day, however. Four cycles of memories flittered by: the birth of Talyn, Crais's betrayal, John's insanity, Aeryn's death. Tears filled the large creature's eyes as he remembered vividly every painful moment, watching Aeryn plunge into the freezing ocean... standing by, unable to help, unable to breath as they brought her body ashore, knowing that the beautiful Aeryn Sun would be no more. His tears spilled over as he recalled the cost of her return, the death of the wise and wonderful P'au Zotoh Zhaan. Her personality had been less than stable, her own actions causing Pilot pain on more than one occasion, and yet, still, her death rocked the small crew to its core.
Turning his mind from such maudlin times, Pilot focused in on other memories... memories of stars seen, space traveled, and strangers met. Over the cycles they'd added to their ragtag crew, and Pilot thought fondly upon each new friend. Chiana, the sweet little Nebari who wanted so desperately just to be noticed. Jool, the annoying and yet somehow loveable princess whose screams had caused both Pilot and Moya to flinch on repeated occasions. Noranti, whose powders and potions had caused more mishap among the crew than even Chiana's fondness for strange men. Even Sikozu, so recently added that a firm opinion of her character could not yet be decided upon. Sikozu was an enigma, one was forced to like her at times, forced to hate her at others; nobody could be sure if the young red head would betray them, and yet still she remained, a part of them, a piece of the fragile little family four cycles on the run had forged.
"Please, anybody..." Pilot tried again, desperately searching out Moya, knowing, however, that the numbness below his waist indicated his removal from her systems, realizing at the same time that in a short while, without his Leviathan counter part, he would slowly begin to die. "Moya, I am very afraid, I can only imagine how you must feel." Pilot hung his head in shame, shame for his concentration on his own fear and displacement, realizing now that Moya must be suffering just as intensely. He had no idea how he'd gotten here, no idea what had happened to rend the separation between Leviathan and Pilot, and yet, Moya was gone, and Pilot was alone for the first time in many cycles.
Whatever he was in shifted, and Pilot felt himself being lifted into the air, swinging high over whatever scene existed below. No sunlight filtered through his airtight crate, no relief from the darkness and solitude. Ever so slowly, Pilot began to weep, for his loss, for his imminent death, for Moya's fear, for the fact that without him his crew could no longer journey to their homes. With Pilot locked away, Moya would be blind, flying into danger, finding herself soon lost and afraid. John Crichton would never find earth, never return to the family for whom he'd so desperately searched through the last four cycles. Aeryn Sun would never discover the soft, compassionate side of her nature Pilot was sure existed. She would never give birth to her child, never settle down into a peaceful life with the man she loved. She and Crichton would never find the moment they deserved to make what was between them right again. Ka D'Argo would never find Lo'laan's family; never exact revenge upon the deserving Macton. Dominar Rygel would never retrieve his throne from his usurping cousin; never again know the sweet feeling of worship. Sweet, young Chiana would never find her brother and never free their people from the deep oppression in which they live. They needed Pilot, someone to guide them, hold them together, watch over and love them as both the symbiant and the Leviathan had done for four long cycles. The crew was his and Moya's family, and each, in their own way, were deeply loved.
"Moya..."
Her name sprung to his lips much as a prayer to Zhaan's. He missed the Leviathan terribly, not due to the fact that without her Pilot would surely die, but rather because she'd grown to be his constant companion. Through out everything they'd remained together, over coming their challenges, fighting for the lives they lived joined to each other's bodies. Her voice was his soul, her song his heart, her life his life. Together they were amazing, separate, Pilot was certain they would crumble. Wherever she was, his beautiful Leviathan mate, surely Moya would survive and move on, unlike her symbiant counter part and for that Pilot was grateful. At least when it was over, when his empty tubing finally stopped searching for food, when his heart finally stopped pumping blood slowly from his severed veins, when his mind slowly stopped struggling to remain conscious in the wake of all that was before him, Pilot would live on in the hearts and minds of those who loved him, but most especially in the ever beautiful Moya.
"Goodbye, my friends," the weakening Pilot whispered, feeling the crate around him jerk and settle onto the ground. All sounds around him faded as somewhere a cargo door slid shut, and Pilot was alone once again. "I shall miss you all terribly."
He looked around himself one last time, his heart aching as he realized he would never more look out to see the beautiful skies and stars as they passed them by. He would never again see the radiant loveliness of a new planet or a new sun as they slowly drew orbit nearby. He would never again know the freedom he had come to love. Clear tears streamed over colored flesh one final time as Pilot bowed his head, focusing his sight on his ever-moving digits. Soon it would be over. Soon he would see no more, hear no more, and blessedly think no more, and then, the sweet, gentle Pilot could rest.
"Moya," his voice cracked, tears pooling upon his flesh as he struggled to keep her image in his mind, "Please, I do not want to be alone, my Moya."
The silence that came was expected, but expectation wasn't able to ease the breaking of the fragile Pilot's heart. A life lived in symbiosis did not deserve a solitary death, but when Pilot's last breath fluttered past his graying lips, he was alone.
End