When You Can't See Them Coming (R)
Title: When You Can’t See Them Coming
Setting: between season 3 and 4, spoilers up to Dog With Two Bones
Rating: R for implied violence and sexual situations
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected.
She shivers, surrounded by suffocating blackness. A faint breeze kisses her bare skin, the touch unwanted. She strains to hear…anything. She has no idea how long she has been here, hanging naked by her wrists. Unable to see, not even knowing if it’s truly dark or if she’s still blind. Waiting, knowing they’ll come for her again.
She tried to fight them, at first, but it’s hard to get leverage when you can’t quite reach the ground. And by the time she did have leverage, there were too many of them. An involuntary breath, deep and shuddering, breaks the silence that cocoons her as effectively as the stifling darkness.
Her wrists hurt, as do her jaw and shoulders and the too-sensitive place between her thighs. She tries to concentrate on the pain, rather than on the fear. The pain tells her she’s still alive, can still fight, but the fear… The fear is killing her by denches. Sudden tears cause her eyes to blink, surprising her. She had forgotten they were open.
How had things gone so wrong? Rygel had warned her not to take it too far, but she hadn’t listened. She never listened. She had just been having some fun. Winning. And who could take his frogness seriously when he advised caution at gambling? But then they had come for her. Local authorities. Police. Niks. Had taken all she’d won, money she and Ryg could’ve, would’ve used.
All she had wanted was to have a little fun and see her brother again, to see for herself that he was truly still alive. But she hadn’t gotten that far, hadn’t found Nerri, and now all she wants is to go home. Back to Moya.
Tears track down her cheeks, unnoticed and unchecked. Her wrists continue to ache and burn with the fire of skin rubbed raw, torn. No one knows she’s on this commerce planet except Rygel and even he doesn’t know where they’ve taken her.
She is alone.
***
Microts, arns, days later she hears a sound. Her first impulse is to shout at them, tell them to go away, to leave her alone. Her second is to plead for whoever is there to help her. She quashes both impulses - neither will do her any good. If it’s the niks returning, either option will only cause her more pain. Instead, she holds herself very still, listening.
She thinks there might be a faint sound - a whirring coming closer to where she hangs from aching arms. “R-Rygel?” The sound of her voice, raspy and alien to her own ears, surprises her. She opens her eyes wide, straining to see through the darkness, unable to stop the surge of hope that rushes through her.
She waits, but hears nothing more. With a strangled sob, she allows her head to drop, chin to chest. She shivers. Hope runs gibbering back to its corner, to hide again in the darkness of her soul. There is no sound of a Dominar’s thronesled, slicing through the darkness - there is only the sound of her own despair.
***
An eternity later, there is another sound, genuine, not imaginary - the snick of a door closing. She jerks her head up, eyes open wide, but still unseeing. Still unsure whether it is darkness or blindness. With no warning, there is a hard slap to her eema and she is suddenly spinning by her wrists. Her arms feel as though they will tear from their sockets. The nik laughs merrily, a terrifying sound. Just as suddenly as the spinning begins, it stops, his hands grabbing her loomas in a painful grip.
“I’ve come back to play some more, little girl.”
The laughter, the predatory tone in his voice is meant to cause more fear, but she won’t give him that satisfaction. She laughs at him, wild and a little unhinged, but a laugh, nonetheless. “All by yourself, nik? Aren’t you…aren’t you afraid?” Before, there had always been three of them, talking each other up, egging each other on.
She feels him, standing in front of her, his body not quite touching hers, save for the harsh hands on her loomas. “Afraid of what?” He squeezes hard, bringing more tears to her eyes. “You?” His contempt stings.
It isn’t much, as far as leverage goes, but his hands, holding her still, are enough for her to kick out. A bare knee connects with equally bare mivonks and a strangled gasp is torn from him as his fingernails dig into her skin, tearing. She laughs again, breathy.
“Frelling whore,” he wheezes, no longer quite so cocky.
There is a grunt and she is again swinging by her wrists, the movement of the air pebbling her skin, causing the fresh welts to throb. The nik starts to say something, but his voice rises into a scream instead. The sound makes no sense. The whirring whine of a small engine returns. A dull thud. A gurgling noise. Still the sounds make no sense.
“Chiana is no whore, you sorry excuse for a sentient being. And I’m the one you should’ve been afraid of.”
Suddenly, the darkness surrounding her isn’t quite so terrifying as understanding dawns. She laughs again, the sound almost hysterical.
“Let’s get you out of here, child.” The gravelly voice and the whir of a Dominar’s thronesled slice through the darkness as the chains that hold her wrists are released from above.
Setting: between season 3 and 4, spoilers up to Dog With Two Bones
Rating: R for implied violence and sexual situations
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected.
She shivers, surrounded by suffocating blackness. A faint breeze kisses her bare skin, the touch unwanted. She strains to hear…anything. She has no idea how long she has been here, hanging naked by her wrists. Unable to see, not even knowing if it’s truly dark or if she’s still blind. Waiting, knowing they’ll come for her again.
She tried to fight them, at first, but it’s hard to get leverage when you can’t quite reach the ground. And by the time she did have leverage, there were too many of them. An involuntary breath, deep and shuddering, breaks the silence that cocoons her as effectively as the stifling darkness.
Her wrists hurt, as do her jaw and shoulders and the too-sensitive place between her thighs. She tries to concentrate on the pain, rather than on the fear. The pain tells her she’s still alive, can still fight, but the fear… The fear is killing her by denches. Sudden tears cause her eyes to blink, surprising her. She had forgotten they were open.
How had things gone so wrong? Rygel had warned her not to take it too far, but she hadn’t listened. She never listened. She had just been having some fun. Winning. And who could take his frogness seriously when he advised caution at gambling? But then they had come for her. Local authorities. Police. Niks. Had taken all she’d won, money she and Ryg could’ve, would’ve used.
All she had wanted was to have a little fun and see her brother again, to see for herself that he was truly still alive. But she hadn’t gotten that far, hadn’t found Nerri, and now all she wants is to go home. Back to Moya.
Tears track down her cheeks, unnoticed and unchecked. Her wrists continue to ache and burn with the fire of skin rubbed raw, torn. No one knows she’s on this commerce planet except Rygel and even he doesn’t know where they’ve taken her.
She is alone.
***
Microts, arns, days later she hears a sound. Her first impulse is to shout at them, tell them to go away, to leave her alone. Her second is to plead for whoever is there to help her. She quashes both impulses - neither will do her any good. If it’s the niks returning, either option will only cause her more pain. Instead, she holds herself very still, listening.
She thinks there might be a faint sound - a whirring coming closer to where she hangs from aching arms. “R-Rygel?” The sound of her voice, raspy and alien to her own ears, surprises her. She opens her eyes wide, straining to see through the darkness, unable to stop the surge of hope that rushes through her.
She waits, but hears nothing more. With a strangled sob, she allows her head to drop, chin to chest. She shivers. Hope runs gibbering back to its corner, to hide again in the darkness of her soul. There is no sound of a Dominar’s thronesled, slicing through the darkness - there is only the sound of her own despair.
***
An eternity later, there is another sound, genuine, not imaginary - the snick of a door closing. She jerks her head up, eyes open wide, but still unseeing. Still unsure whether it is darkness or blindness. With no warning, there is a hard slap to her eema and she is suddenly spinning by her wrists. Her arms feel as though they will tear from their sockets. The nik laughs merrily, a terrifying sound. Just as suddenly as the spinning begins, it stops, his hands grabbing her loomas in a painful grip.
“I’ve come back to play some more, little girl.”
The laughter, the predatory tone in his voice is meant to cause more fear, but she won’t give him that satisfaction. She laughs at him, wild and a little unhinged, but a laugh, nonetheless. “All by yourself, nik? Aren’t you…aren’t you afraid?” Before, there had always been three of them, talking each other up, egging each other on.
She feels him, standing in front of her, his body not quite touching hers, save for the harsh hands on her loomas. “Afraid of what?” He squeezes hard, bringing more tears to her eyes. “You?” His contempt stings.
It isn’t much, as far as leverage goes, but his hands, holding her still, are enough for her to kick out. A bare knee connects with equally bare mivonks and a strangled gasp is torn from him as his fingernails dig into her skin, tearing. She laughs again, breathy.
“Frelling whore,” he wheezes, no longer quite so cocky.
There is a grunt and she is again swinging by her wrists, the movement of the air pebbling her skin, causing the fresh welts to throb. The nik starts to say something, but his voice rises into a scream instead. The sound makes no sense. The whirring whine of a small engine returns. A dull thud. A gurgling noise. Still the sounds make no sense.
“Chiana is no whore, you sorry excuse for a sentient being. And I’m the one you should’ve been afraid of.”
Suddenly, the darkness surrounding her isn’t quite so terrifying as understanding dawns. She laughs again, the sound almost hysterical.
“Let’s get you out of here, child.” The gravelly voice and the whir of a Dominar’s thronesled slice through the darkness as the chains that hold her wrists are released from above.