Hanging On to Hope
Part 3
Comforting. Tender. Someone's hand eased across his temple. His tired mind latched onto the sensation as it spurted like an old engine trying to come back to life. The touch soothed him down to his very soul.
The fingers slid into his hair. The contact was so light...it felt seductive...as a lover's touch...Aeryn. His consciousness fastened on to her image drawing him further toward awareness. A sudden, forceful need tortured him. He wanted her hands all over him more then he wanted to drawn in another breath.
Something warm caressed his cheek; a husky voice whispered to him words with no meaning. Throaty, sexy...Aeryn. It flowed over him, hot and sweet. His body's most primal reaction jolted vigorously, a pulsing, throbbing need that made him feel so... Gawd, this should prove he was alive. He'd never been so grateful for the discomfort of an arousal in his life.
Struggling John opened his eyes. The brightness of the room slammed into his head causing his breath to catch. Snapping his eyelids down, a groan escaped his dried lips. His first discomfort was replaced with a more agonizing one. The husky voice spoke again.
"Easy, luv. Let me lower the lights. Now lay still as I help you to ease your bodies discomfort,"
Luv? He felt the bed slightly move as someone rose. Something was niggled at the back of his consciousness. He pushed it aside, as the soft hands returned, eased him over to his stomach. He felt as weak as a newborn. Shouldn't he be feeling...what? Why couldn't he remember?
He needed to open his eyes...yes, open your eyes. Need to see Aeryn...cast my gaze on my love. However, they were too heavy. It was just too much trouble, and his lover's hands started to do there magic. They kneaded the tense muscles of his shoulder, sending melting warmth coursing through him. He could lay there forever if she'd kept doing that to him.
The feeling of something imperative kept intruding on the bliss of Aeryn's massage. What could be more important then what Aeryn was doing to him? Ohhh, mama it felt so good. Yet the feeling remained, so he relaxed more to let the thought surface in his consciousness. It came back to him vaguely. He had been taken off Moya...Aeryn...his thoughts broke off, as the warm fingers started slow, small circles around his temples once more. He just didn't have the will or desire to open his eyes. Man, could her hands work wonders. John let the pleasure break over him like warm waves.
Much later:
John woke with a start. Something was different. Quiet. It was too quiet to be on Moya. Glancing around the practically pitch darkened room, he defiantly wasn't in Moyaville anymore.
"Hellas, hands'me. How a're you feeling toda'?"
John looked across the room towards the voice...not Aeryn after all. Rather a very over large sour-apple-green woman looked back. The Jolly Green Giant doesn't have anything over this woman.
"Who...ah...where..." his voice croaked. His throat felt like grated sandpaper.
"Here now, don't hurt yourse'f. The Collector 'ill be angry if I did not take care of his treasured prize. My name's Mz'r Jolly, Marcella Jolly," she said as she charged over to him from across the room.
Gracefully she raised a small glass, with a flexible straw. She placed it in between his teeth. Not taking his eyes off her, he sucked and the cool liquid slid down his throat soothing it. After she removed it from his lips, he tried to talk again.
"Where am I? Who..."
Sitting the glassed down the woman smiled at him lovingly...that started to worry him. She reached over and patted him on the arm. Rising she waddled over to a workstation, speaking the whole time. "I will tell the Collector that you are awake. He has been so worried for your health. "
Frowning, John started to shake his head. That was a mistake. When the room stopped spinning, he asked. "Collector? What are you taking about? Where in the frell am I anyway?"
"Don't worry, Luv, ol' Marcella will take care of you. The Collector ordered me to inform him the moment you were aw'ke and alb' to talk," she cheerfully said as she activated the comms unit.
A shadow crossed John's face as he tried to remember how he had gotten there. A jumble of images flooded his mind going almost to fast for him to handle. He spoke aloud as the pictures of the past events took form. "Damn!"
Growing angry about the past events, he knew he needed to get the frell out of there. He lurched, or at least tried to lurch, upright.
Coming around the workstation Marcella hurried over to him. "Now, Luv, don't do that. The Collector will be angry if you were to..."
"I don't give a rat ass what he thinks. I have to get back to my ship." John snarled, trying to rise again.
Marcella paused giving him a funny look. "Oh, but you mustn't think that way anymore. It can only bring you pain."
John stopped struggling; he was leaning over the side of the bed looking up at Mz'r Marcella Jolly. "What do you mean it can only bring me pain?"
A deeper, baritone voice answered him. "Because you now belong to me."
A shrouded figure moved further into the room. John couldn't make out the alien's features, only the overly large head and four arms. With a motion of dismissal, Marcella bobbed to the Collector then exited the room.
John swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently eased his weight onto his feet. Twinges of pain raced from his head down to the souls of his feet. He sat down hard before he fell on his face. It wasn't until then he realized he was naked. Pulling at the cover, he tied it around his waist, glaring at the creature the whole time.
"Where in the frell am I, and who are you?"
Two large red eyes studied him from the shadow of the hood. It wasn't until a third overly large green eye appeared in the middle of his face did John freeze. Gawd the Fly had landed and he didn't have a flyswatter. A cold chill ran down John's spine and for some reason he felt barer then he already was.
"I am known as the Collector. You will address me by that name," the Collector ordered as he started to look around the room.
"Collector of what? Why me? I'm a nobody that doesn't have anything to offer," dread colored John's voice.
The Fly picked up a strange colored bottle; he brought it up to his green eye examining it. He explained, "My species accumulate rare, desirable things. Things of value by design, rarity, and..." he paused as he glanced back at John. "And of course you fit all of those categories and more. Oh yes, much more. Uniquely so"
Unique. The very word graded John's nerves. Unique, was one of Scorpy's favorite descriptions of him. John glanced around his cell then back at the Collector. "Who is willing to pay you for me?"
"Let me see. Yes, the Peacekeepers at a princely amount. The Scarrans...Mmmm...yes. The Emperor would pay me anything I ask."
The Fly paused as if pondering his next words. "You are legendary in the Uncharted Territories and mythical in other parts. I have a fascination about legendary figures."
Slightly shaking his head John, tried explaining. "I'm just a being trying to stay alive. The stories are not..."
"True?" The Collector gave a deep laugh. "Your Leviathan, Moya and her crew are all part of your legend. Yes."
"If we're all legendary why take only me?"
"Because together you are formable. One at a time...yes, you are easy to capture and handle."
John's voice was dangerously soft with a hint of violence. "What in the hell do you want with all of us if you're not interested in the bounty?"
John could have sworn the Collector's eyes took on a deeper shade of color. The creature's eyes narrowed, and he stared at John with a saber-sharp stare. "I collect the rare, you are the only known human with the unique, and vast knowledge in your mind that so many great powers want. A legend that has destroyed a Shadow Depository, a Peacekeeper Gammic Base, Command Carrier, a Scarran Dreadnought and secret base."
The Fly incautiously moved closer to the bed caught up in his excitement. "I have been assembling much information. Yes, even the Nebari. There are tales of your ability of breaking their mind cleansing. Such a simple mind they foolishly believe. We know...yes... I know, John Crichton, you had help but still you are a leader. A man of thought. Through you, I will collect the others. Your wife the ex-Peacekeeper, Aeryn Sun...yes, she will be next."
Snarling, John lurched toward the Collector. Anger gave him the needed strength to kill the bastard, but he was brought up short by coming in contact with a personal body force shield the Collector wore. Repelled backward John hit the bed with a sharp blow to his ribcage knocking the breath out of him. He slid to the floor with a thump as he tried to breathe.
Smiling with satisfaction the Collector spoke into his comms for old Marcella to come back in to take care of her charge. Yes, the legend was everything he knew John Crichton could be.
"Breath. Soon your wife and child will be joining you and then your friends," he chanted as he left the cell. "Breath."
Marcella tutted as she helped John back on the bed muttering the whole time. Not paying any attention to her, John watched as the Collector disappeared out the door. He continued to stare even after it had closed. He had to escape to warn the others, but in all that was holy, he just didn't know how. Marcella adjusted more covering over him. Turning his awareness back to her, as he continued to gasp for breath as a plan started to take shape in his head.
Part 3
Comforting. Tender. Someone's hand eased across his temple. His tired mind latched onto the sensation as it spurted like an old engine trying to come back to life. The touch soothed him down to his very soul.
The fingers slid into his hair. The contact was so light...it felt seductive...as a lover's touch...Aeryn. His consciousness fastened on to her image drawing him further toward awareness. A sudden, forceful need tortured him. He wanted her hands all over him more then he wanted to drawn in another breath.
Something warm caressed his cheek; a husky voice whispered to him words with no meaning. Throaty, sexy...Aeryn. It flowed over him, hot and sweet. His body's most primal reaction jolted vigorously, a pulsing, throbbing need that made him feel so... Gawd, this should prove he was alive. He'd never been so grateful for the discomfort of an arousal in his life.
Struggling John opened his eyes. The brightness of the room slammed into his head causing his breath to catch. Snapping his eyelids down, a groan escaped his dried lips. His first discomfort was replaced with a more agonizing one. The husky voice spoke again.
"Easy, luv. Let me lower the lights. Now lay still as I help you to ease your bodies discomfort,"
Luv? He felt the bed slightly move as someone rose. Something was niggled at the back of his consciousness. He pushed it aside, as the soft hands returned, eased him over to his stomach. He felt as weak as a newborn. Shouldn't he be feeling...what? Why couldn't he remember?
He needed to open his eyes...yes, open your eyes. Need to see Aeryn...cast my gaze on my love. However, they were too heavy. It was just too much trouble, and his lover's hands started to do there magic. They kneaded the tense muscles of his shoulder, sending melting warmth coursing through him. He could lay there forever if she'd kept doing that to him.
The feeling of something imperative kept intruding on the bliss of Aeryn's massage. What could be more important then what Aeryn was doing to him? Ohhh, mama it felt so good. Yet the feeling remained, so he relaxed more to let the thought surface in his consciousness. It came back to him vaguely. He had been taken off Moya...Aeryn...his thoughts broke off, as the warm fingers started slow, small circles around his temples once more. He just didn't have the will or desire to open his eyes. Man, could her hands work wonders. John let the pleasure break over him like warm waves.
Much later:
John woke with a start. Something was different. Quiet. It was too quiet to be on Moya. Glancing around the practically pitch darkened room, he defiantly wasn't in Moyaville anymore.
"Hellas, hands'me. How a're you feeling toda'?"
John looked across the room towards the voice...not Aeryn after all. Rather a very over large sour-apple-green woman looked back. The Jolly Green Giant doesn't have anything over this woman.
"Who...ah...where..." his voice croaked. His throat felt like grated sandpaper.
"Here now, don't hurt yourse'f. The Collector 'ill be angry if I did not take care of his treasured prize. My name's Mz'r Jolly, Marcella Jolly," she said as she charged over to him from across the room.
Gracefully she raised a small glass, with a flexible straw. She placed it in between his teeth. Not taking his eyes off her, he sucked and the cool liquid slid down his throat soothing it. After she removed it from his lips, he tried to talk again.
"Where am I? Who..."
Sitting the glassed down the woman smiled at him lovingly...that started to worry him. She reached over and patted him on the arm. Rising she waddled over to a workstation, speaking the whole time. "I will tell the Collector that you are awake. He has been so worried for your health. "
Frowning, John started to shake his head. That was a mistake. When the room stopped spinning, he asked. "Collector? What are you taking about? Where in the frell am I anyway?"
"Don't worry, Luv, ol' Marcella will take care of you. The Collector ordered me to inform him the moment you were aw'ke and alb' to talk," she cheerfully said as she activated the comms unit.
A shadow crossed John's face as he tried to remember how he had gotten there. A jumble of images flooded his mind going almost to fast for him to handle. He spoke aloud as the pictures of the past events took form. "Damn!"
Growing angry about the past events, he knew he needed to get the frell out of there. He lurched, or at least tried to lurch, upright.
Coming around the workstation Marcella hurried over to him. "Now, Luv, don't do that. The Collector will be angry if you were to..."
"I don't give a rat ass what he thinks. I have to get back to my ship." John snarled, trying to rise again.
Marcella paused giving him a funny look. "Oh, but you mustn't think that way anymore. It can only bring you pain."
John stopped struggling; he was leaning over the side of the bed looking up at Mz'r Marcella Jolly. "What do you mean it can only bring me pain?"
A deeper, baritone voice answered him. "Because you now belong to me."
A shrouded figure moved further into the room. John couldn't make out the alien's features, only the overly large head and four arms. With a motion of dismissal, Marcella bobbed to the Collector then exited the room.
John swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently eased his weight onto his feet. Twinges of pain raced from his head down to the souls of his feet. He sat down hard before he fell on his face. It wasn't until then he realized he was naked. Pulling at the cover, he tied it around his waist, glaring at the creature the whole time.
"Where in the frell am I, and who are you?"
Two large red eyes studied him from the shadow of the hood. It wasn't until a third overly large green eye appeared in the middle of his face did John freeze. Gawd the Fly had landed and he didn't have a flyswatter. A cold chill ran down John's spine and for some reason he felt barer then he already was.
"I am known as the Collector. You will address me by that name," the Collector ordered as he started to look around the room.
"Collector of what? Why me? I'm a nobody that doesn't have anything to offer," dread colored John's voice.
The Fly picked up a strange colored bottle; he brought it up to his green eye examining it. He explained, "My species accumulate rare, desirable things. Things of value by design, rarity, and..." he paused as he glanced back at John. "And of course you fit all of those categories and more. Oh yes, much more. Uniquely so"
Unique. The very word graded John's nerves. Unique, was one of Scorpy's favorite descriptions of him. John glanced around his cell then back at the Collector. "Who is willing to pay you for me?"
"Let me see. Yes, the Peacekeepers at a princely amount. The Scarrans...Mmmm...yes. The Emperor would pay me anything I ask."
The Fly paused as if pondering his next words. "You are legendary in the Uncharted Territories and mythical in other parts. I have a fascination about legendary figures."
Slightly shaking his head John, tried explaining. "I'm just a being trying to stay alive. The stories are not..."
"True?" The Collector gave a deep laugh. "Your Leviathan, Moya and her crew are all part of your legend. Yes."
"If we're all legendary why take only me?"
"Because together you are formable. One at a time...yes, you are easy to capture and handle."
John's voice was dangerously soft with a hint of violence. "What in the hell do you want with all of us if you're not interested in the bounty?"
John could have sworn the Collector's eyes took on a deeper shade of color. The creature's eyes narrowed, and he stared at John with a saber-sharp stare. "I collect the rare, you are the only known human with the unique, and vast knowledge in your mind that so many great powers want. A legend that has destroyed a Shadow Depository, a Peacekeeper Gammic Base, Command Carrier, a Scarran Dreadnought and secret base."
The Fly incautiously moved closer to the bed caught up in his excitement. "I have been assembling much information. Yes, even the Nebari. There are tales of your ability of breaking their mind cleansing. Such a simple mind they foolishly believe. We know...yes... I know, John Crichton, you had help but still you are a leader. A man of thought. Through you, I will collect the others. Your wife the ex-Peacekeeper, Aeryn Sun...yes, she will be next."
Snarling, John lurched toward the Collector. Anger gave him the needed strength to kill the bastard, but he was brought up short by coming in contact with a personal body force shield the Collector wore. Repelled backward John hit the bed with a sharp blow to his ribcage knocking the breath out of him. He slid to the floor with a thump as he tried to breathe.
Smiling with satisfaction the Collector spoke into his comms for old Marcella to come back in to take care of her charge. Yes, the legend was everything he knew John Crichton could be.
"Breath. Soon your wife and child will be joining you and then your friends," he chanted as he left the cell. "Breath."
Marcella tutted as she helped John back on the bed muttering the whole time. Not paying any attention to her, John watched as the Collector disappeared out the door. He continued to stare even after it had closed. He had to escape to warn the others, but in all that was holy, he just didn't know how. Marcella adjusted more covering over him. Turning his awareness back to her, as he continued to gasp for breath as a plan started to take shape in his head.
