(no subject)
He killed her
Grunchlk and Tocot led him back to the surgery room, D'Argo and the others trailing behind slowly. John went placidly, his hands still bound, dragging chains behind him. He knew why they were doing this. He understood.
He killed her
He laid down on the surgical table, and closed his eyes as Tocot strapped him in, then busies himself with getting supplies ready. A moment later, the lights go out and the germ-killing light replaces it. Tocot removed his headgear as Grunchlk leaned his smelly body over to look at John. "Are you sure you don't want your friends here?"
"No. I don't want 'em here."
Tocot spoke up, whistling and clicking and burbling in his strange language, and John didn't even try to decipher what he was saying. Grunschlk looked at him, then back down at John. "Doc says, 'cause of that thing in your brain, there's no way you were responsibile for what happened to that Sebacean.
John spared him a cold glance and then looked back up at the ceiling. "Yes I am."
The doctor spoke again and Grunchlk nodded. "Right. After the Doc's cut the tendrils that have hijacked your brain, he's gonna try to take out the neruochip completely. But he needs your help."
Crichton stared straight ahead, resigned. "What do I gotta do?"
Grunchlk gestured with his hands, "Because there is no template of your brain pattern on our database, he doesn'tknow what bits of gray do what. So when he probes, you tell him."
John nodded. "Right. Where will you be?"
"Anywhere else." Grunchlk shook his head. "I vomit when things get messy."
John smiled slightly at the idea as the man left the room.
Time passed. The doctor touched each tendril, and in turn John told him what it was. Critters. Specifically ones from this Galaxy. Keep it. American politics: Nixon to Clinton, lose it. All his dogs. Keep it if you can.
"This one?"
John started. Memories that hadn't surfaced in a very long time. Scorpius took him over once before...in another place. A blonde girl's face flitted before his eyes; Meg...and another's face...
Angelina. He choked a little at the memories. Andrew. Milliways. A place he'd never go back to, he was sure of it. Not when he was living in this hell. Life was not so kind.
He killed her
"Old memories. Uh..." His face twitched a little at the conflicting emotions. Get rid of the memories forever so he never has to remember a place where he wrecked just as much havoc as he did here, or keep them so he could remember the faces of those he cared about.
But what was the point in caring, if he never saw them again? "Get rid of 'em."
He killed her
"This...section?"
John gasped. Aeryn, in all their most intimate and dangerous times, played out in front of his eyes. He opened his eyes quickly, desperate to not see her face anymore. Please just no more.
"Keep...this?"
John stayed silent, fingers twitching at his sides, closing his eyes slowly. Silently. Then, softly: "Keep it."
More time. More memories. Some he kept, some he lost. He was growing tired of it, tired of seeing his life flash before his eyes, tired of--
Blue swirling masses, his module disappearing against a wall of it, hitting the edge of the electromagnetic wave, disappearing within it with a wink.
"Whoa!" Crichton yelled out. "Wormholes--that's it!"
"Good job..." Tocot whistled out. "From you?"
Crichton grins and laughs, in a sort of manic glee. Tocot whistled and clicked. "I should...desist?"
"No frellin' way."
No. Frellin'. Way.
And then the shit hit the fan.
He killed her
Grunchlk and Tocot led him back to the surgery room, D'Argo and the others trailing behind slowly. John went placidly, his hands still bound, dragging chains behind him. He knew why they were doing this. He understood.
He killed her
He laid down on the surgical table, and closed his eyes as Tocot strapped him in, then busies himself with getting supplies ready. A moment later, the lights go out and the germ-killing light replaces it. Tocot removed his headgear as Grunchlk leaned his smelly body over to look at John. "Are you sure you don't want your friends here?"
"No. I don't want 'em here."
Tocot spoke up, whistling and clicking and burbling in his strange language, and John didn't even try to decipher what he was saying. Grunschlk looked at him, then back down at John. "Doc says, 'cause of that thing in your brain, there's no way you were responsibile for what happened to that Sebacean.
John spared him a cold glance and then looked back up at the ceiling. "Yes I am."
The doctor spoke again and Grunchlk nodded. "Right. After the Doc's cut the tendrils that have hijacked your brain, he's gonna try to take out the neruochip completely. But he needs your help."
Crichton stared straight ahead, resigned. "What do I gotta do?"
Grunchlk gestured with his hands, "Because there is no template of your brain pattern on our database, he doesn'tknow what bits of gray do what. So when he probes, you tell him."
John nodded. "Right. Where will you be?"
"Anywhere else." Grunchlk shook his head. "I vomit when things get messy."
John smiled slightly at the idea as the man left the room.
Time passed. The doctor touched each tendril, and in turn John told him what it was. Critters. Specifically ones from this Galaxy. Keep it. American politics: Nixon to Clinton, lose it. All his dogs. Keep it if you can.
"This one?"
John started. Memories that hadn't surfaced in a very long time. Scorpius took him over once before...in another place. A blonde girl's face flitted before his eyes; Meg...and another's face...
Angelina. He choked a little at the memories. Andrew. Milliways. A place he'd never go back to, he was sure of it. Not when he was living in this hell. Life was not so kind.
He killed her
"Old memories. Uh..." His face twitched a little at the conflicting emotions. Get rid of the memories forever so he never has to remember a place where he wrecked just as much havoc as he did here, or keep them so he could remember the faces of those he cared about.
But what was the point in caring, if he never saw them again? "Get rid of 'em."
He killed her
"This...section?"
John gasped. Aeryn, in all their most intimate and dangerous times, played out in front of his eyes. He opened his eyes quickly, desperate to not see her face anymore. Please just no more.
"Keep...this?"
John stayed silent, fingers twitching at his sides, closing his eyes slowly. Silently. Then, softly: "Keep it."
More time. More memories. Some he kept, some he lost. He was growing tired of it, tired of seeing his life flash before his eyes, tired of--
Blue swirling masses, his module disappearing against a wall of it, hitting the edge of the electromagnetic wave, disappearing within it with a wink.
"Whoa!" Crichton yelled out. "Wormholes--that's it!"
"Good job..." Tocot whistled out. "From you?"
Crichton grins and laughs, in a sort of manic glee. Tocot whistled and clicked. "I should...desist?"
"No frellin' way."
No. Frellin'. Way.
And then the shit hit the fan.
He killed her