Disclaimer: I do not own the Farscape characters, just borrowing them promise to return them back to their proper use so others can reuse them as well. Please do not sue, you only get a German Shepherd that smells like Rygel and a computer that is named Ploppy.
P.S. – I have not forgotten Redemption, this was the first story since I gotten back from NYC that I felt like writing but I will update that when I get the chance and my muse wakens up again. Thanks to those who reviewed!
Sands of TimeSand that feels grimy against his hands, cold and untouched until it runs coarsely through his fingers. The sand of time that flows downwards in an hourglass falling into a soft mound half gone, his time all most spent. That hourglass that is counting down is his life and he started the clock leaving him not much time left.
Chance, was his middle name ever since he got catapulted into the Uncharted Territories and his life he once knew as simple was turned upside down like a twisted mirror in a carnival fun house. Close calls, near misses and just plain good old fashion luck on their side, mostly against them then with them. It was a miracle that they had stayed out of the hands of Peacekeepers as long as they had, and most of the time stayed unscratched from other aliens trying to stake their claim on his friends and himself. So many times when he did not believe they could pull a rabbit out of the hat, they did and found a way out of their predicament. But this time, this was not the case. The inevitable had come. All the cards were out on the table, every lifeline spent, no more chances for the gig was up. Only a few hours more at the most before his body would begin to betray him, start the frightening process of shutting down on him.
Thoughts quickly spiraling out of control in his head, as he was just the passenger on the doomed voyage. Even if you do not want to think about it, being human you go right to that thought process. Science class, teacher babbling about radiation and what it would do the human body. Knowing exactly what that kind of abuse would do the body, and he could not help but sit there and think how he was going to die, and how painful it truly was going to be. If John Crichton were a selfish man, he'd probably take his own life by putting Wynona to his head and blasting himself into the next life. But he was to prideful and to stubborn to quit for his own good. Besides why would he want Aeryn to have that memory of him along with the fact the Scarrans were still coming.
The Scarrans are coming, the Scarrans are coming! The terror that he felt in his mind and soul at the very idea of them not being able to stop the Scarrans was beyond any words in his mind. Now he truly knew how Paul Revere must have felt but this time the British were being played by something far more dangerous and uglier. No he still had a mission to fulfill and John Crichton always kept his promise.
In the distance he could hear the motor of the dune buggy/golf cart that looked like it came right out of the Mad Max movies, making it's way towards his location. His radiant Aeryn Sun. Oh God, what did he do?
Could this have been avoided like the plague if she had been there with him? Maybe she would have prevented him from ramming Furlow's golf cart, starting the chain reaction of spilling the displacement engine and setting it off. But then again maybe she would have gotten hurt, or worse be in his situation.
There was nothing he could have done differently, or Aeryn for that matter that would have stopped the events that were meant to transpire. Knowing that did not make him feel any better, and how would it? It made him feel down right sick to his stomach, or was that the radiation doing that?
It made him feel like he could crawl into the darkest deepest hole and never come out, for it was the fact he would have to look Aeryn in the eye and tell her. To have to be the barer of soul shattering news, to be the one to watch as she realized there was nothing she or anybody could do this time. Watch as that love in her eyes, the one that she finally allowed to be open up by working his way into her heart, be slowly squeezed as though somebody had a hold of your internal organs and would not let go no matter how hard you shook. He was going to die and Aeryn would have to watch it, and that is something John would not wish upon even his own worst enemies.
John had a first hand account watching somebody deteriorate right in front of you until there was nothing left. Though he never saw his mother breathe in her last breath, he still watched as the remarkable woman that he knew as his mother slowly turned into a shell of what she use to be. Tears that would come and leave, praying she would let go so she would no longer suffer yet hoping a miracle would transpire right there in front of his eyes. How your feelings go one way then immediately turn the other way on a split second notice making you feel as though your entire body is being ripped apart. God did he know the feeling, and now he had just condemned the woman he loves to the same fate all because he had to be the hero.
She was all most here, where he sat in the sand and then there would be no stopping what was about to come to pass. He would stop the Scarrans, and then die shortly afterwards with them. Least two good things came out of this, if that was possible. Scarrans would die, and the displacement engine would also go to the grave with him, so nobody else had to lose their life because of it. Nobody should know how to make such a weapon and use it on innocent souls. Though there were pretty good chances the other him would figure out how to make one.
Rage; insanely utterly mad rage that the other one would get to live on and ultimately probably ending up with Aeryn. After all, they were made for each other, destined to become lovers. But why him? Why could he not have the happy ending? Why did he have to die and cause so much pain to the one he did not want to hurt, while the other one got to still carry on? The other one had it lucky, though John had to admit to himself; least he no longer had to deal with Scorpius ever again. It still made him bitterly mad that he would no longer make her laugh, but the other one would more then likely accomplish this. He'd get to touch and smell her hair, be her knight and shinning armor, or more likely be her punching bag. Though in the long run it didn't matter, what was done was done, and though you love to change things, there was no such thing as changing the past.
John Crichton looked one more time out towards the future that was growing dim by the microt, knowing the hourglass was on the stretch of running out and being done. When he heard the dune buggy stop and Aeryn get out,
"You okay?" She asked him.
"Yeah,…I'm fine." Liar John! Lying piece of rat shit that you are. "We have to hurry."
It was now time to set the plan into motion, finish the job that had been laid out before him. Time to set things right, and play the hero one. last……time.
Finis