Young Love

This was written after John rejoined Moya in Season Four. Rated G. Farscape is not mine, and I make no profit doing this.

Young Love

John stared suspiciously at Wynona. She looked back at him, her barrel shining and lovingly polished, a full cartridge of Chakan oil mocking him. He was sure that she was only half loaded when he went into the shower that morning. He checked her over carefully, making sure that she had not been sabotaged in any way, knowing that he was being paranoid but not the least bit inclined to berate himself about it.

Satisfied that Wynona was herself, he buckled her on and checked out the rest of his quarters. Everything looked like it was in place, but in checking to see that the chess set had not moved from its position, he noticed that the metal pieces were also gleaming and polished, instead of in the dusty state they had been in since his return to Moya.

Mentally shrugging, he decided not to worry-if there was a visitation on Moya this time, it must be an infestation of Brownies.

Later that day, he found an opportunity to ask Aeryn about it casually. He received one of the blank stares that plagued their conversations so often lately.

"I didn't touch your pulse pistol, John. Maybe Pilot had one of the DRDs do it."

She put her head and shoulders back into the Prowler she had been working on. He pulled a strand of her ponytail from a protuberance on the side that it had caught on.

"Yea, well, the DRDs know better than to touch Wynona. Maybe it was Chiana."

He hoped he wasn't imagining the hint of jealousy in the muffled 'maybe' that came from the inside of the Prowler.

He ran into Sikozu on the way out, her hair done up in the style that he had mentally dubbed, 'the parking meter ran out at the beauty shop' look.

"Cleaned your pulse pistol?" she said smartly, in answer to his query. "Is that some sort of euphemism?"

"Okay- so you have no interest in my pulse pistol- what about the chess set?"

"Well, I did take it- but I put it back. I just wanted to play with-"

"Rygel?" John said sarcastically.

"Scorpius. But I stayed outside the cell, and it didn't hurt anything," she said defensively. "I don't know why you have to keep him locked up, anyway."

"Because- he's the bad guy," John said, with exaggerated patience. "How do you know how to play?"

"Well, the rules are self-evident just from looking at the pieces."

"Right. Sure they are. Look, next time, Suzuki, make your own chess set."

This was a stupid thing to get bugged about- John had a lot more to worry about, like keeping Scorpius in his cell, and wormholes, and Aeryn- he was a little disappointed. Taking care of Wynona seemed like something Aeryn would do-might do, if she wanted to make peace with him.

He had almost forgotten the incident when he found the newly polished boots by his bed. Not the boots he had been wearing since their return, but the ones he had worn on Elack, and on the lava world, and that had been very dirty and scuffed- now were clean and shining.

"Chiana," he said to himself, light dawning. The playful Nebari also had a strong domestic streak, especially for those she cared about.

Chiana was lifting the lid of a pot bubbling on the stove, inspecting the contents suspiciously.

"Whatcha cooking, Pip?"

"I'm not," she said, picking up the herbs spread out on the counter and looking them over carefully. "I'm just trying to make sure Wrinkles doesn't poison us- again. You know, she has entirely taken over this kitchen."

"Thanks for uh.. polishing my boots," he said.

"Wasn't me- but I'd be glad to next time it's my turn to do laundry." It was obvious she wasn't really paying attention to him as she picked up a purple root vegetable and tossed it in the incinerator. "D'argo's allergic to those. You know, Crichton, I've been meaning to ask you- how close do you think Jool and D'argo got on Aranessk?"

"I think.. it doesn't matter. Because he didn't stay, he came with us," John said reassuringly.

"Yeah.. you're right." She brightened up a bit. "Thanks."

John snagged a cracker on his way out. He had been making a big mistake thinking any of the women on Moya were the least bit interested in him.

"Crichton!" Rygel said, beaming. "Just the man I wanted to see. I have a message for you. A ..secret admirer," he said with relish, "wants to meet you on the terrace tonight."

John had a moment of panic that Rygel might be speaking for himself as he handed John a bottle. "It's a vintage raslak," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"All right Rygel- give. Who is it?"

"I can't tell you that- it would spoil the surprise."

"Rygel- you rat everyone out all the time- why not this time?"

Rygel stuck his lack of nose in the air and floated away without a word.

Puzzled, but a little intrigued, John decided it was worth showing up for. After the evening meal, during which he spent most of his time with his mouth shut and his eyes open, only to discover nothing, he returned to his quarters to find another surprise- sweet-smelling herbs had been strewn across his pillow. The discovery dashed his lingering hopes that his secret admirer was Aeryn- the pulse pistol could have been her, and she certainly understood the value of polished boots- but there was no way she would have thought to put flowers in his bed. Hope rose again as he ran his fingers on his pillow- he picked up a long black hair that could only have come from Aeryn. He wound it around his finger, deep in thought. He wasn't sure he wanted to go to a romantic assignation with Aeryn, either- chances seemed good that it would only end in the same lack of communication and unanswered questions.

Primped, shaved, showered, and loaded with extra ammo, John went to his mysterious rendezvous. Stepping onto the terrace, the first thing he did was sneeze mightily. The second thing he did was to gasp at the vision of loveliness that stood before him. A woman with long, golden hair, clad in white- posture erect, breasts firm and proud, she walked slowly and seductively towards him. As she came closer, he could see the warm golden eyes, slightly darker than the fringe bangs over them, shining with a glint of mischief. She gave a little girlish twirl when she got to him. "How do I look?"

"That depends, Galadriel. Who are you?" he asked, wondering why he hadn't pulled his gun yet.

"Don't you recognize me?" she asked, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring them both drinks. "A toast- that's what you say, isn't it? A toast to my Crichton- the hero I've been waiting for. Defender of the weak, champion of the right, and Savior of the Uncharted Territories. "

"Uh-thanks," he said, not drinking. "Don't think I'm not impressed- and flattered- but you really need to tell me who you are."

She sighed heavily, then winked at him. "Well, it wouldn't have lasted much longer, anyway." She dug something out of the folds of her dress and pinched it under his nose. He watched as the woman before him underwent a transformation- folds and wrinkles appearing on her face, her body bending over, the lovely hair becoming thin and ragged. Even the smell came back. She looked at him sadly, the girlish happiness gone.

"Noranti!" he said, surprised. Covering quickly, he said, "I should have known it was you. The resemblance is obvious."

"Really?" she asked, pleased.

"But why-" he stopped, embarrassed.

"I knew nothing would come of it," she said. "I just wanted you to see me when I was young. 50 cycles ago, when I loved a young man who- was very much like you."

"Gra- Noranti," he said, "even if you were 150 cycles younger, I am not open to a relationship. I-"

"I know, I know, your heart is full- but it doesn't hurt to know someone cares about you, does it?"

"No, especially someone so beautiful," he said diplomatically. "But you don't have to do things for me."

"I like to. It gives me great pleasure. You have to allow an old woman her joys," she said with dignity.

"Your young man was very lucky," John told her gently. He put down his drink and turned to go.

"Just remember, John Crichton, when you are an old man, I'll still be an old woman!" she called after him. He grinned back at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rygel was sure to be getting a lot of mileage out of this at his expense. But it was good to know someone wanted him, and maybe if Noranti had been a few million cycles younger- but no- not while there was Aeryn," he thought as he walked down the hallway, looking at the strand of hair still wrapped around his finger.