Posted on the bunny board on November 7, 2003.
This and it's sequel, What Goes Around... are some old stories I had forgotten about until the title 'what goes around' caught my eye and I remembered once again.
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This is the prequel to....(when I think of it I'll post it*g*) [update: "What goes around..."]
Rated: R (for violence)
A future fic, but not as future as the first story.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Healing Touch
John watched as the skeletal face that had graced all of his nightmares turned and grinned at him.
“I'm disappointed in you, John. Did you and your friends really think I could be fooled so easily?” Scorpius drew a thin leather clad finger down the side of John's face, catching a drop of blood from his chin and examining it carefully.
“The information you gave us was good. Very good. It fooled the technicians completely. Imagine the surprise on their faces when they realized they were going to die an excruciating death as a result of your lies.” He moved to stand in front of John, reaching out a hand to lift the humans face upward.
“I, on the other hand, am not quite as naive.” He shook his head.
“You forget, I know you too well. I've had your neural clone in my head as well, though not quite as long as you've had mine in yours. The John up here..” Scorpius tapped his head lightly. “..well, he died rather than give me the wormhole knowledge I seek.” He leaned closer, his mouth just inches away from John's face. “Why would you be any different?”
John's body convulsed once again, as he hung from the pillars on either side of him. Each wrist was bound tightly to one of the posts, which were the only things holding him up. His bare chest was crisscrossed with thin lines that dripped red down into the small puddle of blood below. His legs had long since given out as the PK Barbies had proven they were more than just pretty faces. Nope they were more than that, that's for sure. They were also grade A, first class, sadistic bitches. And the pain ripping through his body proved it. They had made sure not to kill him though. He figured Scorpius had reserved that privilege for himself.
He just couldn't figure out why Scorpius was bothering with all this. He had all the wormhole knowledge John could give him. Not enough to say he'd conquered the technology, but enough that with a little more research he have it. He'd discovered what John had been doing on the command carrier and had given him enough rope to hang himself. And he had, all by himself. He could only hope the others were gone by now. That had been the deal, to send them back to their homes, but he couldn't even be certain of that. Why would Scorpius keep that end of the bargain when he had lied about everything else?
Pain washed over him and sweat stung his eyes.
His voice was weak and he had a hard time getting the words out. “What are you waiting for…….you sick, twisted piece of …?” He couldn't control the cough or the spasms that came with the movement. Spittle mixed with blood left a metallic taste in his mouth. He knew his insides must be a mess, not to mention it hurt like hell. He felt tears running down his face, but there was nothing he could do about them. He gathered enough energy to rasp “Just do it!”
God, if only Scorpius 'would' kill him. Even more than the pain, was the fact that he was so tired. And what was the point? There was no reason to keep fighting the bastard. Scorpius had won and John had lost. Everything. No chance to go home, no Aeryn, no saving the universe. It was over.
“Kill you John?” Scorpius walked around the human hanging there and felt a twinge of pity for him. He had been a worthy adversary for a while. He had enjoyed their game.. It really would be kinder to kill him.
“You're right of course. It would be the sensible thing to do. But I've learned so much from you. Perhaps I can learn more.”
He looked at the fragile human with sweat running in rivulets down his body, and blood trickling from his mouth and sighed.
“No. I don't believe there is anything more I can learn from you John. I shall have to speak to my…helpers. I think they did their job a little too well.” He picked up a blade from a nearby table and moved next to him. He held it to John's throat and smiled to see the relief in his eyes. The human knew death was here and he welcomed it. As he himself would have. It made it easier.
“I want to thank you John. You've given me many cycles of adventure. Always one step behind you. Until now.” His eyes narrowed. “No one else has ever given me as much pleasure as you.” He brought the blade up behind John's ear and pressed slightly, bringing an involuntary groan. “And because you have given me so much, I will do you this one last favor.” He brought the knife down quick and deep along John's throat leaving a gaping wound that spewed blood.
Scorpius smiled at him. “It will be quick John. I promise you.”
Suddenly the command carrier rocked violently and Scorpius grabbed on to one pole to keep from falling. Lights flickered until there was nothing but shadows.
Scorpius heard Bracca's voice over the comm. “Sir. The command carrier is under attack and has been boarded. What are your orders?”
“Get my marauder ready Lieutenant. I will be there immediately.”
Scorpius spared one last look at his former foe before leaving. “Your friends?” He smiled again. “No matter. It's over. Goodbye John.” His retreating steps were the last thing John heard before his mind sank into unconsciousness.
Only a few microts had passed when a new form entered the room. Dressed in black, with pulse pistol drawn, the figure slid along the walls in the dark and stopped to activate the light stick she had brought with her. As the light grew she saw John's limp form hanging there, apparently lifeless. She hadn't yet reached him when she began issuing a barrage of orders into her comm.
“D'Argo! I need help with John. Level 3, lab 2. Have Chiana meet us at your ship.”
Part of her knew he might already be dead, but she refused to think about it. Dead or alive he was leaving with her. She aimed her pulse pistol to shoot through the bonds that were holding him up. She was barely in time to catch him as he fell to the floor. In the dim light she could see the pool of blood on the floor and the blood coming from his neck. She saw where the wound was located and blanched. Oh frell, not there! She comm'd Jool directly. “Jool! He's badly hurt. Get the new synth blood and be ready when we get him to Moya!”
She gazed at his wound and felt the panic rise. It was in the one place sure to kill one of her kind. Would it kill him? Just the thought threatened to immobilize her for a moment, until she gathered some control and made herself move. She caught him against her, his face against her breasts.
“No! You are not going to die.” Her voice caught in her throat. “Not this time.” There was no response from him. But he had to be alive, surely the blood would stop flowing if he were dead. She remembered the time on Kanvia, so long ago, just after he'd been twinned. The other had barely survived the blood loss from his wounds. Only the man laying here in her arms had saved him then. In desperation she put her hand against his throat, trying to stem the warm liquid gushing between her fingers. What had John told her to do once? Press hard…that's it. She must press harder.
It was a mantra she kept repeating to herself and she kept her hand there even when D'Argo came in and lifted him up in his arms. She kept it there as they hurried through the command carrier to D'Argo's ship. Firefights broke out as they went, but they ignored them as they continued on through corridor after corridor. No time to stop and join in. No time to hide. By this time, the carrier had been overrun with mercenaries who blessedly knew who their employers were and left them alone. She kept it there as they took off in D'Argo's ship, heading towards Moya at maximum speed. She wouldn't let go, even as D'Argo carried him out and into one of Moya's hangers to meet Jool, waiting for them with her medical equipment. D'Argo had relayed John's condition to her and she knew she didn't have much time.
She still didn't move when Jool came around the cot where John lay to look at the wound. “Aeryn. You can take your hand away now.” Jool spoke as gently as she could, but Aeryn didn't seem to be inclined to move.
“Aeryn.”
D'Argo's booming voice finally roused her and she tore her gaze away from John and looked around in a daze.
“You can let go.” He was trying to be gentle, but they didn't have much time. Her hand trembled as she slowly moved it away and Jool took over the task of stopping the precious fluid from escaping.
While Jool worked, D'Argo came over to Aeryn, who remained unmoving as she watched Jool trying desperately to cauterize and repair the damage to John's neck.
“He's lost a lot of blood.” Her voice shook. “They cut his neck, right where…”
D'Argo nodded, he knew the consequences of a wound in that area. “Aeryn. He is not Sebecean. Perhaps it won't be so bad.” He was having a hard time believing it himself, but he had to try.
“Perhaps.” She looked up suddenly and a thought struck her. “Scorpius?”
He nodded his head. “He did just as you thought, and the explosives went off as promised as soon as his marauder was away. He won't be back this time, Aeryn.”
D'Argo sniffed and looked down, realizing that Aeryn's clothing was liberally splotched with red. She was covered in John's blood.
“Listen. You go and get cleaned up.” He pointed to her clothes. As she started to protest he looked at her. “I'll stay here with him.”
She knew she had to get out of these clothes, but the thought of leaving him was harder than she had thought it would be. What if he died while she was gone? But then, they hadn't said goodbye, so he couldn't, could he? They had never said goodbye before and he had always come back to her. They had broken that cycle on Talyn and it had cost him his life. Well, she wouldn't say goodbye again. No, not again. She nodded to D'Argo and moved quickly for the door.
*********
It was much later when Chiana found Aeryn, still in her room. She had on a fresh outfit and was in the process of cleaning her gun. At first glance everything seemed normal but one glance at the pale skin, the circles under the eyes, the slight quiver of her mouth and Chiana knew Aeryn couldn't take much more.
As a result, her voice came out softer than she’d originally planned.
“Hey. What ja doin'?”
That got a slight snort. “You've been around Crichton too long Chiana. Now you're asking the obvious.” She held up her gun and then went back to the task of cleaning it. Never mind that she had been cleaning it for two arns and she might actually frell it up if she didn't stop soon.
“Well, we were wondering where you were.” Chiana didn't wait to be asked in. She came to stand in front of Aeryn. “So, you've been here all this time? I..D'Argo..well, we thought you'd want to see how Crichton was doing.” She tilted her head in puzzlement. After the way Aeryn had acted when they came on board, they had been surprised when she had not come back to check on John or even try and find out how he was.
“Jool is trying that new synth blood she concocted to try and replace some of the blood he's lost, but... he's not doing too good. There isn't anything else to try.” Aeryn's head was still bent over the gun, her hand wiping the cloth down the side. Over and over.
“Except you. It might help if he knew you were there.” Chiana suddenly didn't care how fragile she was. This wasn't helping either John or Aeryn. “Don't you want to see him?”
“No.”
“I don't understand you. First you act like a deranged habnot trying to get him out of there, then after you find him you won't leave his side, and now you won't even go to him when he needs you. You could keep him alive, you know. If he knew you were there, that you cared, he might fight to stay alive.”
Chiana looked at the bent head and couldn't take any more. She grabbed the gun from Aeryn's hand and threw it to the side of the room. Her hand swung, intending to give the trelk the slap she deserved, when Aeryn's hand came up and stopped her in mid swing. As Aeryn's head came up, Chiana found she was looking into a face filled with so much pain that it made her catch her breath. She had never realized just how close to losing it Aeryn really was. Her tight Peacekeeper facade had kept them all in the dark about what was going on inside their friend. Seeing her now, Chiana couldn't help but wonder how Aeryn lived with such pain. Well, perhaps she couldn't. She hadn't exactly been living since she came back from Talyn had she? She'd just been going through the motions.
Now, though, her eyes were brimming with tears. No point in keeping up the pretense of not caring. She let Chiana go slowly.
“I can't Chiana. I can't see him.”
“But why, Aeryn? He loves you. And this..” she gestured around the room where Aeryn had been hiding. “.. is killing both of you.”
Aeryn shook her head. “If he dies... I've been there before, Chiana. I..I just can't watch that happen, again.”
“Yeah..well, what if he does? What if he dies and you're not there? Do you think you'll ever forgive yourself? I know I won't forgive you.” She moved from one foot to the other, agitated. “You weren't here, you didn't see him while you were gone, driving himself and everyone around him crazy, while you were off with the other one. I know he was Crichton too, but so is this one. He loves you just as much as the other one. You didn't see him.” She repeated. “He was lost without you.” She saw Aeryn stiffen at her last words. She moved closer. “Will you stop thinking of yourself for once? You've got to help him.” Her face worked as she tried to think of what might persuade her.
“Please.” Crichton used that trick all the time. Maybe it would work this time too.
As Aeryn watched the young Nebari plead with her, she realized the girl was right. What had John said on Talyn? 'It's always about what you want…' She straightened her shoulders and with a deep sigh she gave up the fight.
“You're right. I should be there.” She'd just have to see if either one of them survived it.
Chiana watched as Aeryn left the room, and she cocked her head to one side as she considered what had happened.
“Please? That's all it took? Crichton was right.” A powerful word indeed, to get the ex-peacekeeper to do something she didn't want to do. She'd have to try it out on someone else. She grinned to herself as moved out the door.
** ** **
Aeryn watched him lying there on the table, the bandage around his neck hiding the damage underneath. He was so still she had to watch carefully to see his chest rise and fall with each breath. Sometimes she would lose focus and miss the rhythm, causing her heart to race until she saw it once again.
Jool had said she thought the synth blood she had created was working, but she couldn't be sure. There had been some internal injuries, but Jool was certain she had fixed them in time. It was the blood loss from the neck wound that worried her. He had been very lucky as it was. Apparently, Sebecean anatomy was slightly different than a humans. A half a dench forward and the knife would have cut the large artery in his neck. Nothing would have saved him then.
Aeryn waited while Jool finished up her tests and headed to her room for the sleep cycle, exhaustion evident in the slump of her shoulders and the darkness of her hair. It was up to John now, whether he lived or died. She had done all she could.
Aeryn let out a heavy sigh as she watched her go. She was finally alone with him.
She stood up, and moved a stool as close to the bed as possible. It wouldn't do him any good if he didn't know she was here. Not that she was sure her being here would help him. She didn't know a lot of things about him now. They hadn't really talked since she had come back from Talyn. Oh, they had talked about some things. Things like.. 'What news from Crais?' and 'How are the repairs coming'? So far they'd found it too hard to say things like, 'How did you sleep?' and 'What are you thinking?' She'd taken those conversations for granted a cycle ago. She missed them. She didn't know if they could ever get that back again, but now, with the possibility of losing him so strong, she was beginning to see that she had been wrong to push him away. The hurt was no less when they were apart and she had denied herself the only comfort she might have found.
She loved John Crichton. In any form, no matter how many there were. She would have stayed with the other one to the end of his days, but she knew that she would have thought of this one often. It was a frelling mess, but one that she was just beginning to see didn't have to end with them alone. Her John had known this day would come and he had given his blessing of sorts in the message he had left for the man with her now. It had taken her time, and she still wasn't sure, but whatever the cost, she had to take a chance that this could work, because the alternative was unthinkable.
Now that she was closer, she could hear the faint rasp as his lungs struggled to get enough air and she wondered if it was already too late.
Her hand trembled slightly as she picked his hand off the bed and held it. She examined it closely looking for differences between this hand and the hand of the John she had lost. Except for a single small scar on his thumb she could see no difference at all. The sprinkling of hair on the back of his hand was the same, the same crooked finger that didn't quite straighten out. She had always loved his hands. She stroked the long fingers, tracing the callused fingertips with hers. So strong, and yet, so tender when he wanted to be. She remembered the feel of them on her skin. Bending down slightly she smoothed her cheek over the back of his hand and then turned it upward to press a small gentle kiss to his palm. She looked up to watch his face, still unmoving. Could he feel her there, holding his hand? Feel her loving him?
She shifted until her hand reached his face. It was odd, but when she saw his face now, it was not the face of her dead lover, but the face of the man she had come to know only after her lover had died. They were exactly alike, and yet, not. Perhaps it was the extra gray she saw hidden in his hair, or the frown lines on his face that had not been there before. Whatever the reason, she suddenly saw him for the man he was, not the man she had lost. If only she could tell him. Make him believe it.
She smoothed his hair back and realized his breathing was shallower than before. The rise and fall of his chest was becoming less and less. Frell! No, she could not let this happen. Not now. She rose up and bent over him with arms to either side of his body. Her mouth lowered until it was next to his ear.
“Listen to me Crichton. I lost you once, I don't want to lose you again.” The tears were dripping down onto his face but she didn't try to stem them. “I know it's been hard. It will always be hard, for both of us, but you've got to fight. I couldn't help what happened to you. To us. But if you live, we can try and make it right. I'll try and make it right.” She moved slightly to press her lips to his softly, hoping that somewhere, somehow he would know that she was waiting for him.
********
His first thought was that he had died and gone to heaven. It was dark in here though, and there didn't seem to be any family members around, so he wasn't too sure about the whole thing. A soft familiar hand was touching his face, smoothing his hair back, running up and down his arm. The soothing sensations lulled him back to sleep before he could figure out who it was.
********
The light was hurting his eyes and he wished someone would just unscrew the light bulb. He didn't want to see any light, ever. He liked it here in the darkness. It was safe here. No worries, no pain, just the hand brushing his lips, tracing his ear, holding his hand. He'd grown used to the sensations and he knew somehow, that if he opened his eyes, it would all be gone. His body wasn't ready to let go of the feelings just yet. He was so tired, but the touch always brought him back to life. He felt sleep coming for him once again and he fought it. He didn't want to lose the feel of the hand to the darkness. Finally, he felt the gentle touch of a finger tracing his cheek and, reassured, he gave up the fight and slept.
******
There was the light again and he sensed a difference this time. The soothing touch he had come to depend on was gone, and he felt its absence keenly. He could hear someone moving around and he felt a hand on his forehead, but it wasn't the hand he wanted, the hand he needed. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He could hear the person moving away and he decided it was time. He had to open his eyes sooner or later. Now was as good a time as any.
To be continued....
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