Chapter 6: Paradise Lost
Aeryn trained hard. The whole ordeal with the other Crichton had frustrated her. Everyone was avoiding her. He was a spy, a frelling spy! Why in hezmana did they care? She jabbed her dummy hard. He was going to betray them all; she was doing them a favour! The impostor almost killed Gilina.
She heard footsteps coming her way. "You hurt him really bad, Aeryn. He still hasn't woken up." The Sebacean accent gave away the speaker's identity.
"He brought it upon himself," retorted Aeryn.
"He was done after the first kick, and you continued like an animal. Could you do that to the rest of us? What's wrong with your fabled Peacekeeper commando control?" Gilina asked harshly.
Aeryn barked, "I don't know!"
"Maybe you should see him."
"What would that accomplish?"
Gilina shrugged. "You tell me."
"What's wrong with him?" D'Argo growled.
Zhaan sighed. "I don't know. He won't wake, and there is nothing physically wrong with him, nothing new at any rate. My scans show his brain activity has heightened, but as to what that means, I can't be sure. He appears to have buried himself deeper within his mind."
John looked up at her. "So essentially, he's comatose."
Zhaan nodded sadly.
"Is there a way to bring him out of it?" Gilina asked.
Zhaan could only shrug. "I don't know."
Suddenly, John's eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers in excitement. "I may have an idea." He leaned over to Zhaan and whispered something into her ear.
Zhaan nodded reluctantly. "It may work, but I'm uncertain. I'll need time to prepare."
When everyone walked out, Gilina asked "What did you suggest John?"
He winked at her and replied, "Something about unity, darlin'."
Gilina rolled her eyes; she never understood what the frell he was talking about most of the time. Everyone left the room.
During the sleep cycle an unknown shape in the dark sat down next to the unconscious human. Lovingly caressing his brow, she started talking to him. Telling him her secrets and insecurities, her joys and sadness. Then she was gone and once again John Crichton was alone, in the dark.
The next day Zhaan sat, eyes closed in prayer and meditation. John and Gilina were standing behind her, ready in case something went wrong. She took a deep breath and grabbed the comatose body of John Crichton, placing her hands on his head. Gathering her spiritual energies, she touched her head to his.
She felt herself getting pulled into his mind. Almost there, her mind so close to touching his, she could sense his life essence. 'Wait, something's wrong,' she thought in a panic and then an explosion of blue light filled her senses.
Opening her eyes, she felt disoriented. Sitting in a metal contraption, she noticed she was in a whitewashed room. In the centre was a table, wooden, with rectangular pieces of paper covered in pictures of Sebaceans -- no, humans, she corrected herself -- strewn about. She picked one up and looked at it curiously, until an odd silky voice that sent a chill down her spine caught her attention.
"Magazines, they are called. Interesting things, really. Too bad John didn't read more of them."
Zhaan looked at her mysterious companion in John's mind. A shadowy figure covered in black leather sat in the corner. His face was greyish and wrinkly; a leather mask covered his head, all except for his mouth and eyes. "Who are you?" Zhaan asked cautiously.
"I'm Harvey."
"What are you doing here?"
Harvey looked at her incredulously. "Quite an odd thing to ask. Someone placed me here a long time ago. He looks a lot like me, or so I'm told. By the way, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Harvey said.
The whole statement, especially the last part, took Zhaan aback. "What makes you say that?"
Harvey moved closer to her, curious. "You don't know? Hmm, interesting. No matter. Do you know where you are?"
Zhaan nodded "John's mind, but how? Unity doesn't work this way."
Harvey shrugged. "I wouldn't know. John's planted so many defences to keep people out; I don't even know them all. Honestly, I can't say I blame him." He looked around the room. "This is what is called a waiting room, where people wait before appointments. You will be able to see John soon, but first I must attempt to dissuade you."
Zhaan shifted nervously. "Stop me, but why? John will die if he stays this way, and if he dies, I'm fairly certain you die too."
Harvey nodded solemnly. "It's true, but I'm no longer in control. This is John's mind, and he wants to stay. You don't understand; he's made a paradise in here, a place where he's happy. Do you know when he was last happy, truly happy?" he asked.
Zhaan only shook her head.
Harvey smiled sadly. "Neither does he. I care for him now; you really get to feel for this person after awhile. I'm not the same neural clone I once was; my wanderings into his mind have changed me forever. Leave him be, let him have his happiness. It's the least he deserves."
Zhaan was shocked by the heartfelt words coming from this thing. She shook her head furiously. "No, he will die if I do nothing."
Harvey sighed most uncharacteristically, "Perhaps he'll die anyway. If I show you what he's done here, you may decide to change your mind." The room swirled and disappeared into a long dark narrow hallway, completely black. Harvey motioned for her to follow, and she fell into step behind him.
A brilliantly bright golden door caught her attention. "What is that?" she asked.
He only shrugged, exactly like the human. "It's a neural block over a part of his mind. What it blocks, I have no idea. I've never seen a wall so strong; there must be a large secret hidden behind that door, something he doesn't want anyone to see."
Zhaan moved over to it and placed a hand cautiously over the door. She screamed as pain shot through her arm and snaked across her body. She withdrew it quickly and the feeling subsided, leaving only a slight tingle. Harvey only looked at her disapprovingly. "You should know better." He chided her, and then walked off. Zhaan moved to follow.
"Here we are," announced the clone, rubbing his hands together. The surroundings changed. Wind blew the shift Zhaan was wearing tightly to her body. A cry from a flying creature turned her eyes skyward. She looked back down at the sand beneath her feet that easily gave way. Crashing noises from the surf startled her. An ocean, which seemed to span on forever, was spread out before her. Long tall trees stood up lazily.
The colours around her were so vibrant, and so...colourful, for the lack of a better term. "He's enhancing the colours unconsciously. It brings much more life to the scene don't you think? Those palm trees are also a nice touch. Look how blue the water is, it's almost unreal. This is how he sees his home," Harvey commented. It was unbelievably beautiful and bright. Everything felt as if it were more, almost as if it were a higher reality, someplace more real. "It's breathtaking," Zhaan said, she didn't know what else to say.
A small wooden house of a light brownish-gold colour greeted her. It was slightly farther down the beach, but not too far. She walked towards it.
Harvey pointed. "Look over there. It's him."
Zhaan's superior eyesight caught John laughing and smiling in genuine bliss. She saw his expression change to mock horror as he ran down the beach giggling. A tall, slender figure seemed to take chase, long black hair floating in the wind. "Aeryn?" Zhaan wondered. Harvey nodded.
"He loves her, more than anything. Without her, he feels incomplete, a shadow. I have no idea why. I think he's an idiot, but of course no one cares what I think," Harvey rolled his eyes unconsciously. "He'd do everything and anything for her; has done everything for her, and still she rejects him, even to the very end. He can't take any more. If only you could understand...so lonely, so lonely," Harvey whispered trailing off.
Zhaan looked at John again. His smile seemed to radiate the surrounding area. She had to steel herself to her purpose; he had to come back alive. "What about Gilina?" she asked.
"Dead." Harvey responded. "Long time dead. Saving him." Shaking his head Harvey asked, "Do you think that taking him back is the right thing to do? Look at him! Can you honestly tell me the real world is a better place?" Zhaan shook her head. "No, but it has to be done, it's where he belongs," she said, more to convince herself then the leather clad monstrosity.
She then broke into a run, chasing after Crichton. John stopped and looked at her strangely. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to bring you back," she replied.
John's eyes widened. "You're real?" Shaking his head furiously he screamed, "No! I'm not going back. I don't want to." It sounded like a tantrum of a child.
"This isn't real, John; it's all in your mind," Zhaan explained.
"Despite what you think, Zhaan, I'm not an idiot. I know that, but I don't care! I like it here, Zhaan. It's the first time I've liked it somewhere for a long time. Leave me alone. Please, Zhaan," begged John. He twirled around to run, but Zhaan was quicker. She grabbed him and embraced him.
Placing her hands to his head, she touched their heads together. Dark thunderous clouds appeared in the sky and the wind hit hurricane force. Rain and lightening pelted down to the ground in a torrent of destruction. The sounds were deafening. The water rose and huge waves crashed into the rocks, pounding them with unmatched force. The ground shook violently, started to crack. The sky sudden ripped apart in an awesome and horrible explosion. The lightening ignited the sky as a raging inferno crossed the sky. The trees became ashes and the water transformed into blood. The world around them suddenly swirled around, it became a whirlpool of destruction and they were at the centre. Slowly, at first, the world began to collapse in on itself. Then the most horrific scream sounded. "NOOOO!" John shrieked desperately, it didn't even sound remotely human.
Suddenly, as if a damn burst, images blasted into Zhaan's mind. Wormhole, Aurora Chair, Gilina dying, Aeryn dead, herself dying, blood, pain, twinning, coldness, loneliness, hope, defeat, "you're nothing but a ghost," images, sounds -- they flooded her mind, making her relive his life. An old man looked down upon her, and she told the old man, "When I grow up, I'm going to go to the stars and be the best astronaut ever!" The old man smiled at her and looked back up at the sky to a place faraway.
The hurricane that was John's life washed over and bathed her. Such strength, such kindness, such agony. She saw it all in its painful entirety.
Then it was gone. She realized she was on the med bay floor, lying in a fetal position like a crumpled tin can. Zhaan felt a pair of strong arms picking her up and cradling her. "Shush, it's going to be okay, don't worry," the strong voice told her. She realized she was crying and shaking, but the strong arms protected her, they were walls to keep the monsters at bay. Her sobs were loud, even to her own ears. Tears streamed down in an endless river. But the arms rocked her and made her feel safe, no longer alone; someone cared.
She hugged one of the arms that held her and looked up into the teary face of John Crichton. "I'm so sorry, I didn't understand, I'm so very sorry. I was wrong, so very wrong," she wailed, hurt and ashamed at what she had done. Zhaan had done what so many others had done; she had raped his mind, made his memories her own, forcefully. The pain she felt now was but a slight sliver of what Crichton was feeling. How could he even look upon her? She didn't feel worthy.
A sad smile crossed his cracked, bloodstained lips. She couldn't understand him, why was he like this? Why didn't he hurt her or at least scream and shout? Why was he so kind? Gently John wiped her tears away with a finger. "Don't cry Zhaan, it doesn't matter. I didn't deserve it anyway. I'm just a ghost. Just a ghost," he whispered, giving her a broad smile that shone on her like a sunrise, which for Zhaan had special meaning. She cried harder. "Everything will be alright, shush now," he reassured her.
Gilina looked in through the darkness watching Zhaan looking completely devastated. 'What's wrong?' She wondered. The previously unconscious John was awake and holding Zhaan like a small child. She saw Zhaan shaking visibly from her grief. Gilina watched them like that for a least twenty microts, words passing between them she couldn't catch. The ancient blue priest suddenly closed her eyes and John gently placed her upon a cot. After caressing Zhaan's face with a feather touch, he walked out, erect with purpose, trying to look strong for prying eyes. Gilina took this as a heartening sign. She pulled a strand of her blond hair away from her eyes and chased after him silently.
Walking slowly, she crouched low and moved so her footsteps were noiseless. She rounded a corner that she saw John pass only a moment before. He was gone. Disappeared, like a wraith. Gilina kept looking around for him, but without success. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she walked down the rarely used halls.
A strange noise caught her attention. Cocking her ear, she tried to figure out what it was. Following the sound, she found herself standing outside a small, dimly lit cell. Within it was the outline of John Crichton, Saviour of the Universe, Destroyer of Evil, and all around Good Guy, slumped against the wall with his head in his hands, rambling to himself in a whisper. His eyes were tearless -- the well the tears had come from had dried up -- but the eyes-- those blue hopeful eyes were haunted and sunken in.
Looking up at her, a frown flickered across his features. Forcing a smile, he spoke. "Hey."
The voice was cracked with sorrow. Gilina couldn't stop herself; she rushed over to him and held him close. "What happened to you?" she whispered tearfully, his mood was infectious.
Crichton smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nothing did anymore, except agony, a word that had become synonymous with his name. " You mean in general or just now? Let's see, I got tortured in many different ways, some intentional, some not. Happens all the time. I'd probably be lost without it; if it didn't happen, I'd be worried something was terribly wrong with the universe. Nothing tells you your alive than a good ole' fashion mind rape."
Gilina was horrified of the coldness in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, and I was also just ripped from the most perfect dream in my entire life, a dream I would have been happy to disappear in," John said with a faraway look in his eye. "Happy," he muttered.
"But Crichton, it wouldn't be real. What's great about being in a dream knowing none of it exists?" Gilina asked.
John laughed humourlessly. "REAL!" he spat. "What is real? Real is waking up one day after another, running for my life, having people who want to kill me appear everywhere. Real is having people I care about leave me or die. Real is being beaten, putdown, tortured, and mind frelled. Real is never being happy. Real is having my humanity ripped away, piece by piece. Real is being alone."
He had started at a yell, but his rant had died slowly into a barely audible whisper. The poor tortured man looked her in the eye. Gilina could do no more than swallow loudly, his eyes were frightening. "You know when the last time I was truly happy?" Gilina could only shake her head. His haunted gaze moved away from her face. "Neither do I."
"I'm sorry for what has been done to you, but you're not alone now, not anymore."
Crichton looked up at her strangely. "Yes I am, now more than ever."
"But I'm here."
He shook his head. "You aren't here for my sake, you're here for John Crichton, and that's who you should go see."
Gilina blinked. "Who are you then?"
John gave her a small smile that did nothing to brighten his face. "A ghost." And with that, he walked out of the cell.
Gilina spent the next couple of arns walking around the empty halls of Moya, thinking about what Crichton had said. Eventually she found herself in the terrace, looking upon the back of John. He was groomed, well kept, and his eyes were wide with awe, wonder, and contentment. This was her John.
"Hey," she said. He looked up at her and smiled. A real smile that made his eyes glow. She felt herself melt. John looked so...human, and she loved that about him. She prayed to any deity that would listen that he would never become like the tortured soul that wandered the abandoned halls of Moya.
Her worry found its way to John. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Gilina sighed and walked over, placing herself in his waiting arms. "It's the other John," she admitted.
He tried to hide it, but she saw his wince. She rubbed his arm reassuringly. "He looks completely beaten, and not just physically. When he woke, Zhaan was apologizing and crying so hard it was heartbreaking. He assured her of something and placed her in bed. But when I talked to him, he seemed withdrawn. Something is really wrong with him, and I'm worried. He might do something to harm himself."
John looked into her eyes and touched her face. "He won't do anything, he's stronger than that. He's a Crichton."
Gilina wondered if that was enough. She held him closer. "I love you."
He held her tighter. "I love you, too."
Zhaan stood in command with all the others. Crichton was in the corner, seeming to blend in with the shadow. Her whole spirit ached for him; he had lost more than she could believe. He also lost the most precious thing he'd owned in the universe, his sense of humour. She also knew the terrible secret that hid behind that neural block. She would try her best to comfort him, but there was little she or anyone could do.
"He is John Crichton. Not a spy or peacekeeper trick of any sort, this I can say with utter certainty," Zhaan announced.
No one seemed surprised, though Aeryn's cheeks lost a tiny bit of colour. John's gaze was aimed directly at the back of her head, of which Aeryn was painfully aware. Zhaan looked away from the scene.
"Surprise, surprise," he muttered from the corner.
The other Crichton raised an eyebrow. "Then how the hell did you get here?"
John snorted. "One really frelled-up wormhole. I was trying to get back to Earth, after.ah.a rough encounter. I had nothing to lose. Though, on the other hand, I really had nothing to gain either. Don't know what I was thinking, I just had to get away," he replied, but he seemed very far away. It took all of Zhaan's strength not to rush over and comfort him; she knew of what incident he spoke.
"You were trying to get home?" Gilina asked.
John chuckled. "I never said that. I said I was trying to get to Earth."
Everyone looked puzzled, even the other John. "Then where is your home?" Aeryn hissed suspiciously.
The shadowy figure in the corner flinched visibly. It took all of Zhaan's willpower not to strangle Aeryn; she could be unconsciously callous at times. His voice replied, somewhat cracked and a bit manic, "Home? I wonder that too, sometimes. Moya? Hah, haven't seen her in over a monen now. Earth? Yeah, right, and get locked up for the rest of my natural life. I was living on an old Leviathan who would have been dead in another monen, anyway. I don't have a home, and I stopped bothering to search for one a while ago."
Nobody seemed untouched by what the human said. D'Argo, Aeryn, and even Rygel shifted uncomfortably. Gilina seemed sad, and the other John felt goose bumps.
John had always lived by the motto, 'home is where the heart is'. This shadowy figure ahead of him had to as well. What happened to him? He put the question aside for a private meeting. Curious, though, he had to ask one last question, "Where did you come from?"
He saw his own body shrug. "Dunno. My best guess is that a wormhole sent me to an alternate reality. Flimsy, I know, but it's the best idea I got." And with that, he walked out of the room. Everyone seemed more at ease once he was gone. Cruel, it seemed, but it was understandably uncomfortable hanging around someone who was verging on the insane.
Crichton had to talk to himself. Strange to think about it, but stranger things had happened. So he went after him.
John Crichton, traveler of parallel universes, was having a really shitty day. Actually, it had been a shitty week...no, wait, actually it had been a shitty couple of years.
He walked onto the terrace and looked out to the stars. The beauty eluded him. The great scene that he once would've killed for was no longer provoking anything within him. Crichton felt empty, emptier then he had ever been before. He sat down, watching the universe drift by painfully slow. His earlier bouts of sickness had become easier and easier to control. The waves of illness that used to incapacitate him no longer affected him in the slightest.
Footsteps echoed in the halls behind him. John couldn't place them -- they were strong, but not quite as blunt as D'Argo or purposeful like Aeryn. He smiled to himself -- whose footsteps on this ship were the ones he couldn't place? His own, of course.
Crichton walked up to the terrace. Sitting there was, well, him. The body was motionless, completely still, looking out at the stars.
"Hi John, come to enjoy the view?" his own voice sounded, though huskier and raspy.
'How the hell did he know it was me?' John wondered. Replying almost wistfully, he said, "It takes my breath away. I usually come here to think. I would've killed for a view like this back home."
The other him shrugged. "It used to do the same thing to me. Seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I stay up at night and wonder, when did things start going wrong?" Shaking his head, he asked, "How has your life been going?"
John pondered it for a moment. He went over the details of his first few days. The day he met Gilina and asked her to come with him. How they fell in love and started sharing quarters. Before he knew it, all he did was talk about him and her. He told his other self how jealous he'd been when she started paying more attention to him, and that's why he'd been avoiding him. "You know, I couldn't see it. All the caring she did for you, she did because she loved me, and you are me. Well, I see it now, thank god. Now I just have to apologize. Boy, she's going to have me eating out of her hand for a long time. I'll never hear the end of it," John finished off with a smirk.
"Are you happy?" the other human asked.
Crichton was surprised by the abrupt question. He only had to ponder the response of a moment. "Yeah, happiest I've been in a while, I guess. I've found a woman I love, friends to help me out, and I'm the best damn astronaut there ever was. I've done things -- hell, seen things -- that no one back home has ever imagined. I am what I wanted to be, and I'm loving it." He saw his reflection drop it's head. "What happened to you, to make you into this person you've become? Is she dead?" John asked boldly.
The figure sat up. "Yeah, long time dead, saving my ass. It's funny; I didn't love her; you know. She asked me, if things had been different, could I have? I guess I know the answer for sure now. She never came back with me from the Zelbinion. I never pushed, didn't want her living like us. I guess I...cared too much. Ironic, the fact that she ended up dead first because she loved me. And all because I loved someone else."
Curious, John asked, "Who?"
He heard a crooked laugh. "The high and mighty Aeryn Sun. I still love her, you know. Lucky me." His other self sighed softly, he then swallowed and got up. "If you want to know the rest, ask Zhaan," he said between clenched teeth. "This lollipop's down to the soggy white stick."
"Just one more question," asked Crichton.
The other nodded assent. "Always the inquisitive one. Shoot."
"What do you want?" John asked his other self.
A twisted grin answered him. His own blue eyes seemed crazed in the reflection of the man in front of him. "Who knows? I used to want to settle down, have kids, get together with Aeryn, maybe find a way home, but they're just dreams, and worthless ones at that. I guess my only wish now is to have a good day, an honest-to-god good day. Now there's going for the impossible." Finally he left the room.
Aeryn trained hard. The whole ordeal with the other Crichton had frustrated her. Everyone was avoiding her. He was a spy, a frelling spy! Why in hezmana did they care? She jabbed her dummy hard. He was going to betray them all; she was doing them a favour! The impostor almost killed Gilina.
She heard footsteps coming her way. "You hurt him really bad, Aeryn. He still hasn't woken up." The Sebacean accent gave away the speaker's identity.
"He brought it upon himself," retorted Aeryn.
"He was done after the first kick, and you continued like an animal. Could you do that to the rest of us? What's wrong with your fabled Peacekeeper commando control?" Gilina asked harshly.
Aeryn barked, "I don't know!"
"Maybe you should see him."
"What would that accomplish?"
Gilina shrugged. "You tell me."
"What's wrong with him?" D'Argo growled.
Zhaan sighed. "I don't know. He won't wake, and there is nothing physically wrong with him, nothing new at any rate. My scans show his brain activity has heightened, but as to what that means, I can't be sure. He appears to have buried himself deeper within his mind."
John looked up at her. "So essentially, he's comatose."
Zhaan nodded sadly.
"Is there a way to bring him out of it?" Gilina asked.
Zhaan could only shrug. "I don't know."
Suddenly, John's eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers in excitement. "I may have an idea." He leaned over to Zhaan and whispered something into her ear.
Zhaan nodded reluctantly. "It may work, but I'm uncertain. I'll need time to prepare."
When everyone walked out, Gilina asked "What did you suggest John?"
He winked at her and replied, "Something about unity, darlin'."
Gilina rolled her eyes; she never understood what the frell he was talking about most of the time. Everyone left the room.
During the sleep cycle an unknown shape in the dark sat down next to the unconscious human. Lovingly caressing his brow, she started talking to him. Telling him her secrets and insecurities, her joys and sadness. Then she was gone and once again John Crichton was alone, in the dark.
The next day Zhaan sat, eyes closed in prayer and meditation. John and Gilina were standing behind her, ready in case something went wrong. She took a deep breath and grabbed the comatose body of John Crichton, placing her hands on his head. Gathering her spiritual energies, she touched her head to his.
She felt herself getting pulled into his mind. Almost there, her mind so close to touching his, she could sense his life essence. 'Wait, something's wrong,' she thought in a panic and then an explosion of blue light filled her senses.
Opening her eyes, she felt disoriented. Sitting in a metal contraption, she noticed she was in a whitewashed room. In the centre was a table, wooden, with rectangular pieces of paper covered in pictures of Sebaceans -- no, humans, she corrected herself -- strewn about. She picked one up and looked at it curiously, until an odd silky voice that sent a chill down her spine caught her attention.
"Magazines, they are called. Interesting things, really. Too bad John didn't read more of them."
Zhaan looked at her mysterious companion in John's mind. A shadowy figure covered in black leather sat in the corner. His face was greyish and wrinkly; a leather mask covered his head, all except for his mouth and eyes. "Who are you?" Zhaan asked cautiously.
"I'm Harvey."
"What are you doing here?"
Harvey looked at her incredulously. "Quite an odd thing to ask. Someone placed me here a long time ago. He looks a lot like me, or so I'm told. By the way, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Harvey said.
The whole statement, especially the last part, took Zhaan aback. "What makes you say that?"
Harvey moved closer to her, curious. "You don't know? Hmm, interesting. No matter. Do you know where you are?"
Zhaan nodded "John's mind, but how? Unity doesn't work this way."
Harvey shrugged. "I wouldn't know. John's planted so many defences to keep people out; I don't even know them all. Honestly, I can't say I blame him." He looked around the room. "This is what is called a waiting room, where people wait before appointments. You will be able to see John soon, but first I must attempt to dissuade you."
Zhaan shifted nervously. "Stop me, but why? John will die if he stays this way, and if he dies, I'm fairly certain you die too."
Harvey nodded solemnly. "It's true, but I'm no longer in control. This is John's mind, and he wants to stay. You don't understand; he's made a paradise in here, a place where he's happy. Do you know when he was last happy, truly happy?" he asked.
Zhaan only shook her head.
Harvey smiled sadly. "Neither does he. I care for him now; you really get to feel for this person after awhile. I'm not the same neural clone I once was; my wanderings into his mind have changed me forever. Leave him be, let him have his happiness. It's the least he deserves."
Zhaan was shocked by the heartfelt words coming from this thing. She shook her head furiously. "No, he will die if I do nothing."
Harvey sighed most uncharacteristically, "Perhaps he'll die anyway. If I show you what he's done here, you may decide to change your mind." The room swirled and disappeared into a long dark narrow hallway, completely black. Harvey motioned for her to follow, and she fell into step behind him.
A brilliantly bright golden door caught her attention. "What is that?" she asked.
He only shrugged, exactly like the human. "It's a neural block over a part of his mind. What it blocks, I have no idea. I've never seen a wall so strong; there must be a large secret hidden behind that door, something he doesn't want anyone to see."
Zhaan moved over to it and placed a hand cautiously over the door. She screamed as pain shot through her arm and snaked across her body. She withdrew it quickly and the feeling subsided, leaving only a slight tingle. Harvey only looked at her disapprovingly. "You should know better." He chided her, and then walked off. Zhaan moved to follow.
"Here we are," announced the clone, rubbing his hands together. The surroundings changed. Wind blew the shift Zhaan was wearing tightly to her body. A cry from a flying creature turned her eyes skyward. She looked back down at the sand beneath her feet that easily gave way. Crashing noises from the surf startled her. An ocean, which seemed to span on forever, was spread out before her. Long tall trees stood up lazily.
The colours around her were so vibrant, and so...colourful, for the lack of a better term. "He's enhancing the colours unconsciously. It brings much more life to the scene don't you think? Those palm trees are also a nice touch. Look how blue the water is, it's almost unreal. This is how he sees his home," Harvey commented. It was unbelievably beautiful and bright. Everything felt as if it were more, almost as if it were a higher reality, someplace more real. "It's breathtaking," Zhaan said, she didn't know what else to say.
A small wooden house of a light brownish-gold colour greeted her. It was slightly farther down the beach, but not too far. She walked towards it.
Harvey pointed. "Look over there. It's him."
Zhaan's superior eyesight caught John laughing and smiling in genuine bliss. She saw his expression change to mock horror as he ran down the beach giggling. A tall, slender figure seemed to take chase, long black hair floating in the wind. "Aeryn?" Zhaan wondered. Harvey nodded.
"He loves her, more than anything. Without her, he feels incomplete, a shadow. I have no idea why. I think he's an idiot, but of course no one cares what I think," Harvey rolled his eyes unconsciously. "He'd do everything and anything for her; has done everything for her, and still she rejects him, even to the very end. He can't take any more. If only you could understand...so lonely, so lonely," Harvey whispered trailing off.
Zhaan looked at John again. His smile seemed to radiate the surrounding area. She had to steel herself to her purpose; he had to come back alive. "What about Gilina?" she asked.
"Dead." Harvey responded. "Long time dead. Saving him." Shaking his head Harvey asked, "Do you think that taking him back is the right thing to do? Look at him! Can you honestly tell me the real world is a better place?" Zhaan shook her head. "No, but it has to be done, it's where he belongs," she said, more to convince herself then the leather clad monstrosity.
She then broke into a run, chasing after Crichton. John stopped and looked at her strangely. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to bring you back," she replied.
John's eyes widened. "You're real?" Shaking his head furiously he screamed, "No! I'm not going back. I don't want to." It sounded like a tantrum of a child.
"This isn't real, John; it's all in your mind," Zhaan explained.
"Despite what you think, Zhaan, I'm not an idiot. I know that, but I don't care! I like it here, Zhaan. It's the first time I've liked it somewhere for a long time. Leave me alone. Please, Zhaan," begged John. He twirled around to run, but Zhaan was quicker. She grabbed him and embraced him.
Placing her hands to his head, she touched their heads together. Dark thunderous clouds appeared in the sky and the wind hit hurricane force. Rain and lightening pelted down to the ground in a torrent of destruction. The sounds were deafening. The water rose and huge waves crashed into the rocks, pounding them with unmatched force. The ground shook violently, started to crack. The sky sudden ripped apart in an awesome and horrible explosion. The lightening ignited the sky as a raging inferno crossed the sky. The trees became ashes and the water transformed into blood. The world around them suddenly swirled around, it became a whirlpool of destruction and they were at the centre. Slowly, at first, the world began to collapse in on itself. Then the most horrific scream sounded. "NOOOO!" John shrieked desperately, it didn't even sound remotely human.
Suddenly, as if a damn burst, images blasted into Zhaan's mind. Wormhole, Aurora Chair, Gilina dying, Aeryn dead, herself dying, blood, pain, twinning, coldness, loneliness, hope, defeat, "you're nothing but a ghost," images, sounds -- they flooded her mind, making her relive his life. An old man looked down upon her, and she told the old man, "When I grow up, I'm going to go to the stars and be the best astronaut ever!" The old man smiled at her and looked back up at the sky to a place faraway.
The hurricane that was John's life washed over and bathed her. Such strength, such kindness, such agony. She saw it all in its painful entirety.
Then it was gone. She realized she was on the med bay floor, lying in a fetal position like a crumpled tin can. Zhaan felt a pair of strong arms picking her up and cradling her. "Shush, it's going to be okay, don't worry," the strong voice told her. She realized she was crying and shaking, but the strong arms protected her, they were walls to keep the monsters at bay. Her sobs were loud, even to her own ears. Tears streamed down in an endless river. But the arms rocked her and made her feel safe, no longer alone; someone cared.
She hugged one of the arms that held her and looked up into the teary face of John Crichton. "I'm so sorry, I didn't understand, I'm so very sorry. I was wrong, so very wrong," she wailed, hurt and ashamed at what she had done. Zhaan had done what so many others had done; she had raped his mind, made his memories her own, forcefully. The pain she felt now was but a slight sliver of what Crichton was feeling. How could he even look upon her? She didn't feel worthy.
A sad smile crossed his cracked, bloodstained lips. She couldn't understand him, why was he like this? Why didn't he hurt her or at least scream and shout? Why was he so kind? Gently John wiped her tears away with a finger. "Don't cry Zhaan, it doesn't matter. I didn't deserve it anyway. I'm just a ghost. Just a ghost," he whispered, giving her a broad smile that shone on her like a sunrise, which for Zhaan had special meaning. She cried harder. "Everything will be alright, shush now," he reassured her.
Gilina looked in through the darkness watching Zhaan looking completely devastated. 'What's wrong?' She wondered. The previously unconscious John was awake and holding Zhaan like a small child. She saw Zhaan shaking visibly from her grief. Gilina watched them like that for a least twenty microts, words passing between them she couldn't catch. The ancient blue priest suddenly closed her eyes and John gently placed her upon a cot. After caressing Zhaan's face with a feather touch, he walked out, erect with purpose, trying to look strong for prying eyes. Gilina took this as a heartening sign. She pulled a strand of her blond hair away from her eyes and chased after him silently.
Walking slowly, she crouched low and moved so her footsteps were noiseless. She rounded a corner that she saw John pass only a moment before. He was gone. Disappeared, like a wraith. Gilina kept looking around for him, but without success. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she walked down the rarely used halls.
A strange noise caught her attention. Cocking her ear, she tried to figure out what it was. Following the sound, she found herself standing outside a small, dimly lit cell. Within it was the outline of John Crichton, Saviour of the Universe, Destroyer of Evil, and all around Good Guy, slumped against the wall with his head in his hands, rambling to himself in a whisper. His eyes were tearless -- the well the tears had come from had dried up -- but the eyes-- those blue hopeful eyes were haunted and sunken in.
Looking up at her, a frown flickered across his features. Forcing a smile, he spoke. "Hey."
The voice was cracked with sorrow. Gilina couldn't stop herself; she rushed over to him and held him close. "What happened to you?" she whispered tearfully, his mood was infectious.
Crichton smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nothing did anymore, except agony, a word that had become synonymous with his name. " You mean in general or just now? Let's see, I got tortured in many different ways, some intentional, some not. Happens all the time. I'd probably be lost without it; if it didn't happen, I'd be worried something was terribly wrong with the universe. Nothing tells you your alive than a good ole' fashion mind rape."
Gilina was horrified of the coldness in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, and I was also just ripped from the most perfect dream in my entire life, a dream I would have been happy to disappear in," John said with a faraway look in his eye. "Happy," he muttered.
"But Crichton, it wouldn't be real. What's great about being in a dream knowing none of it exists?" Gilina asked.
John laughed humourlessly. "REAL!" he spat. "What is real? Real is waking up one day after another, running for my life, having people who want to kill me appear everywhere. Real is having people I care about leave me or die. Real is being beaten, putdown, tortured, and mind frelled. Real is never being happy. Real is having my humanity ripped away, piece by piece. Real is being alone."
He had started at a yell, but his rant had died slowly into a barely audible whisper. The poor tortured man looked her in the eye. Gilina could do no more than swallow loudly, his eyes were frightening. "You know when the last time I was truly happy?" Gilina could only shake her head. His haunted gaze moved away from her face. "Neither do I."
"I'm sorry for what has been done to you, but you're not alone now, not anymore."
Crichton looked up at her strangely. "Yes I am, now more than ever."
"But I'm here."
He shook his head. "You aren't here for my sake, you're here for John Crichton, and that's who you should go see."
Gilina blinked. "Who are you then?"
John gave her a small smile that did nothing to brighten his face. "A ghost." And with that, he walked out of the cell.
Gilina spent the next couple of arns walking around the empty halls of Moya, thinking about what Crichton had said. Eventually she found herself in the terrace, looking upon the back of John. He was groomed, well kept, and his eyes were wide with awe, wonder, and contentment. This was her John.
"Hey," she said. He looked up at her and smiled. A real smile that made his eyes glow. She felt herself melt. John looked so...human, and she loved that about him. She prayed to any deity that would listen that he would never become like the tortured soul that wandered the abandoned halls of Moya.
Her worry found its way to John. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Gilina sighed and walked over, placing herself in his waiting arms. "It's the other John," she admitted.
He tried to hide it, but she saw his wince. She rubbed his arm reassuringly. "He looks completely beaten, and not just physically. When he woke, Zhaan was apologizing and crying so hard it was heartbreaking. He assured her of something and placed her in bed. But when I talked to him, he seemed withdrawn. Something is really wrong with him, and I'm worried. He might do something to harm himself."
John looked into her eyes and touched her face. "He won't do anything, he's stronger than that. He's a Crichton."
Gilina wondered if that was enough. She held him closer. "I love you."
He held her tighter. "I love you, too."
Zhaan stood in command with all the others. Crichton was in the corner, seeming to blend in with the shadow. Her whole spirit ached for him; he had lost more than she could believe. He also lost the most precious thing he'd owned in the universe, his sense of humour. She also knew the terrible secret that hid behind that neural block. She would try her best to comfort him, but there was little she or anyone could do.
"He is John Crichton. Not a spy or peacekeeper trick of any sort, this I can say with utter certainty," Zhaan announced.
No one seemed surprised, though Aeryn's cheeks lost a tiny bit of colour. John's gaze was aimed directly at the back of her head, of which Aeryn was painfully aware. Zhaan looked away from the scene.
"Surprise, surprise," he muttered from the corner.
The other Crichton raised an eyebrow. "Then how the hell did you get here?"
John snorted. "One really frelled-up wormhole. I was trying to get back to Earth, after.ah.a rough encounter. I had nothing to lose. Though, on the other hand, I really had nothing to gain either. Don't know what I was thinking, I just had to get away," he replied, but he seemed very far away. It took all of Zhaan's strength not to rush over and comfort him; she knew of what incident he spoke.
"You were trying to get home?" Gilina asked.
John chuckled. "I never said that. I said I was trying to get to Earth."
Everyone looked puzzled, even the other John. "Then where is your home?" Aeryn hissed suspiciously.
The shadowy figure in the corner flinched visibly. It took all of Zhaan's willpower not to strangle Aeryn; she could be unconsciously callous at times. His voice replied, somewhat cracked and a bit manic, "Home? I wonder that too, sometimes. Moya? Hah, haven't seen her in over a monen now. Earth? Yeah, right, and get locked up for the rest of my natural life. I was living on an old Leviathan who would have been dead in another monen, anyway. I don't have a home, and I stopped bothering to search for one a while ago."
Nobody seemed untouched by what the human said. D'Argo, Aeryn, and even Rygel shifted uncomfortably. Gilina seemed sad, and the other John felt goose bumps.
John had always lived by the motto, 'home is where the heart is'. This shadowy figure ahead of him had to as well. What happened to him? He put the question aside for a private meeting. Curious, though, he had to ask one last question, "Where did you come from?"
He saw his own body shrug. "Dunno. My best guess is that a wormhole sent me to an alternate reality. Flimsy, I know, but it's the best idea I got." And with that, he walked out of the room. Everyone seemed more at ease once he was gone. Cruel, it seemed, but it was understandably uncomfortable hanging around someone who was verging on the insane.
Crichton had to talk to himself. Strange to think about it, but stranger things had happened. So he went after him.
John Crichton, traveler of parallel universes, was having a really shitty day. Actually, it had been a shitty week...no, wait, actually it had been a shitty couple of years.
He walked onto the terrace and looked out to the stars. The beauty eluded him. The great scene that he once would've killed for was no longer provoking anything within him. Crichton felt empty, emptier then he had ever been before. He sat down, watching the universe drift by painfully slow. His earlier bouts of sickness had become easier and easier to control. The waves of illness that used to incapacitate him no longer affected him in the slightest.
Footsteps echoed in the halls behind him. John couldn't place them -- they were strong, but not quite as blunt as D'Argo or purposeful like Aeryn. He smiled to himself -- whose footsteps on this ship were the ones he couldn't place? His own, of course.
Crichton walked up to the terrace. Sitting there was, well, him. The body was motionless, completely still, looking out at the stars.
"Hi John, come to enjoy the view?" his own voice sounded, though huskier and raspy.
'How the hell did he know it was me?' John wondered. Replying almost wistfully, he said, "It takes my breath away. I usually come here to think. I would've killed for a view like this back home."
The other him shrugged. "It used to do the same thing to me. Seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I stay up at night and wonder, when did things start going wrong?" Shaking his head, he asked, "How has your life been going?"
John pondered it for a moment. He went over the details of his first few days. The day he met Gilina and asked her to come with him. How they fell in love and started sharing quarters. Before he knew it, all he did was talk about him and her. He told his other self how jealous he'd been when she started paying more attention to him, and that's why he'd been avoiding him. "You know, I couldn't see it. All the caring she did for you, she did because she loved me, and you are me. Well, I see it now, thank god. Now I just have to apologize. Boy, she's going to have me eating out of her hand for a long time. I'll never hear the end of it," John finished off with a smirk.
"Are you happy?" the other human asked.
Crichton was surprised by the abrupt question. He only had to ponder the response of a moment. "Yeah, happiest I've been in a while, I guess. I've found a woman I love, friends to help me out, and I'm the best damn astronaut there ever was. I've done things -- hell, seen things -- that no one back home has ever imagined. I am what I wanted to be, and I'm loving it." He saw his reflection drop it's head. "What happened to you, to make you into this person you've become? Is she dead?" John asked boldly.
The figure sat up. "Yeah, long time dead, saving my ass. It's funny; I didn't love her; you know. She asked me, if things had been different, could I have? I guess I know the answer for sure now. She never came back with me from the Zelbinion. I never pushed, didn't want her living like us. I guess I...cared too much. Ironic, the fact that she ended up dead first because she loved me. And all because I loved someone else."
Curious, John asked, "Who?"
He heard a crooked laugh. "The high and mighty Aeryn Sun. I still love her, you know. Lucky me." His other self sighed softly, he then swallowed and got up. "If you want to know the rest, ask Zhaan," he said between clenched teeth. "This lollipop's down to the soggy white stick."
"Just one more question," asked Crichton.
The other nodded assent. "Always the inquisitive one. Shoot."
"What do you want?" John asked his other self.
A twisted grin answered him. His own blue eyes seemed crazed in the reflection of the man in front of him. "Who knows? I used to want to settle down, have kids, get together with Aeryn, maybe find a way home, but they're just dreams, and worthless ones at that. I guess my only wish now is to have a good day, an honest-to-god good day. Now there's going for the impossible." Finally he left the room.