Farscape Fic: Adventures
***
Adventures
a Farscape story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
G
***
Disclaimer: Kemper and Henson own the goods.
Written during the sprog_wars Sprogathon for pdxscaper, who requested: "D'Argo babysitting his namesake. Okay, that'll have to be after they go back and pick big D up from where they left him. So, I'm living in denial...what about it?" With thanks to dotsomething for the beta, and to Amilyn, who heard the options and insisted on the ... Well, you'll see.
***
Aeryn hasn't slept in almost a weeken. Crichton says it's "colic," but for all his walking and bouncing and cooing, the baby does not respond to him except with more wails.
"I'll take him," D'Argo says.
"That's great, Big D," Crichton says, hoisting D'Argo's namesake from one weary shoulder to the other, with only a breathing pause to interrupt the cries. "But we couldn't."
"Sure you could. We're near a commerce planet. Take Aeryn down there, spend the night. Let her get some sleep. You too."
"Thanks, man. We appreciate it. We do. But we're just gonna have to put up with Night of the Living Baby like everyone else." Crichton looks into D'Argo's face as he says it. He's good with that, with not staring. Aeryn stares. So does Rygel. And D'Argo hasn't seen Chiana since ...
"John."
"We'll be fine."
The baby cries all night.
***
Aeryn is pale and unhappy and if she was the type to cry, D'Argo is certain she would be weeping and screaming like her son. Overnight, her child turned from a sweet burbling infant to a howling nightmare, and he is still crying. D'Argo floats slowly into the room - his sled is built upon the same principles as Rygel's but takes significantly more energy to maneuver - and watches her hold the baby, arms extended away from her.
He thinks maybe she will toss her child to the ground, or against the wall, and when she meets his eyes he's pretty sure she was considering it.
"Please," he says, and she nods and he can see that in fact she has been crying. She is careful when she places little D'Argo into his arms. So small, and so soft, so much like Jothee when he was an infant, and D'Argo smiles regardless of the renewed screams.
"His diapers are over there."
He awkwardly scoops a few onto his sled. "How long ago did you, um, nurse him. Last."
"Not long."
He chucks the baby under the chin. The questions are going to be harder than the babysitting, he starts to think. "Do you have any ... Out?"
She folds her arms across her swollen chest. "No."
"Try to get some sleep," he advises her, and he floats out of her quarters with the baby safely in his arms. He hears her flop back onto her bed.
The baby cries and cries.
"Come, little one," D'Argo says. Jothee cried like this as an infant. Lo'Lann walked and walked with him and sang him songs, and eventually he outgrew it. D'Argo remembers this and it doesn't hurt anymore.
He starts to hum one of the songs Lo'Lann favored. He doesn't remember the words but that's fine. Maybe it soothes the baby and maybe it doesn't, but D'Argo finds it calming as the wails continue.
There is a noise. A familiar noise. The diaper covering little D'Argo's rear gets damp. Also yellow. D'Argo finds a horizontal surface as fast as he can. Changing these is a skill he could never forget. Sure enough, dull yellow excrement fills the previously white cloth. D'Argo chuckles as he wipes down the boy's bottom and puts on a new diaper.
"There you go," he says, bringing the baby against his shoulder again. He's quieter now, a little, and D'Argo continues his humming.
The noise happens again.
D'Argo quickly pulls the baby away, mindful of his small, lolling head. Sure enough, more yellow slime is oozing down little D'Argo's leg through a gap between diaper and thigh.
D'Argo swears and puts the baby back on the table. He wipes the kid clean - again - and starts to put a new diaper on.
And then ...
D'Argo has seen geysers on geologically active worlds, so he has some context for the yellow fountain of fecal matter that extends a full handspan into the air as his namesake lets go. D'Argo's eyes widen, and he floats back a few inches to avoid getting covered. Another quick burst, and the goo finally stops. D'Argo looks mournfully at the rags he's gathered, knowing they're not nearly up to the task.
The tub is big enough for Rygel to bathe in; he's going to be upset when he finds out young D'Argo has just made it his own. The water is warm, and D'Argo has it situated on the table well enough that he can reach in easily. When the water becomes too disgusting, he pulls out the baby to lie on clean rags while he empties and refills the basin.
Little D'Argo coos as D'Argo places him back in the clean water. A tiny fist flails and splashes. D'Argo cleans the scrunched face, the small tuft of hair, each and every baby part. It has been so long since he's bathed an infant, and he wants to savor the experience.
He will have no more children, not with Chiana, not with anyone. But he will live, and he will have this child that carries his name. Jothee sent word that he has taken a wife, so there may be grandchildren to bathe and hold and cherish, and this is the nature of living again after he thought he was dead.
"Hey," says John. D'Argo looks up. John stands in the doorway. "I went to check on Aeryn, but she's asleep and Little D wasn't with her."
"She needed her rest," D'Argo says, drying the baby and dressing him in warm, clean clothes. Crichton doesn't try to stop him.
"How'd you get him to stop crying?"
D'Argo hasn't noticed before now. "I'm not sure. He just stopped."
Crichton comes over and reaches down for his son. D'Argo tenses, but doesn't stop him. The baby gurgles at his father and closes his eyes.
"I'm going to try to put him down for a nap," John says. "Thanks for watching him, Big D."
"It was no trouble."
"That commerce planet. You said you wouldn't mind if we ... " It's part question, part apology.
"Just let me know," D'Argo says. "And be sure to leave a lot of clean diapers."
"Thanks, man."
D'Argo smiles.
***
Adventures
a Farscape story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
G
***
Disclaimer: Kemper and Henson own the goods.
Written during the sprog_wars Sprogathon for pdxscaper, who requested: "D'Argo babysitting his namesake. Okay, that'll have to be after they go back and pick big D up from where they left him. So, I'm living in denial...what about it?" With thanks to dotsomething for the beta, and to Amilyn, who heard the options and insisted on the ... Well, you'll see.
***
Aeryn hasn't slept in almost a weeken. Crichton says it's "colic," but for all his walking and bouncing and cooing, the baby does not respond to him except with more wails.
"I'll take him," D'Argo says.
"That's great, Big D," Crichton says, hoisting D'Argo's namesake from one weary shoulder to the other, with only a breathing pause to interrupt the cries. "But we couldn't."
"Sure you could. We're near a commerce planet. Take Aeryn down there, spend the night. Let her get some sleep. You too."
"Thanks, man. We appreciate it. We do. But we're just gonna have to put up with Night of the Living Baby like everyone else." Crichton looks into D'Argo's face as he says it. He's good with that, with not staring. Aeryn stares. So does Rygel. And D'Argo hasn't seen Chiana since ...
"John."
"We'll be fine."
The baby cries all night.
***
Aeryn is pale and unhappy and if she was the type to cry, D'Argo is certain she would be weeping and screaming like her son. Overnight, her child turned from a sweet burbling infant to a howling nightmare, and he is still crying. D'Argo floats slowly into the room - his sled is built upon the same principles as Rygel's but takes significantly more energy to maneuver - and watches her hold the baby, arms extended away from her.
He thinks maybe she will toss her child to the ground, or against the wall, and when she meets his eyes he's pretty sure she was considering it.
"Please," he says, and she nods and he can see that in fact she has been crying. She is careful when she places little D'Argo into his arms. So small, and so soft, so much like Jothee when he was an infant, and D'Argo smiles regardless of the renewed screams.
"His diapers are over there."
He awkwardly scoops a few onto his sled. "How long ago did you, um, nurse him. Last."
"Not long."
He chucks the baby under the chin. The questions are going to be harder than the babysitting, he starts to think. "Do you have any ... Out?"
She folds her arms across her swollen chest. "No."
"Try to get some sleep," he advises her, and he floats out of her quarters with the baby safely in his arms. He hears her flop back onto her bed.
The baby cries and cries.
"Come, little one," D'Argo says. Jothee cried like this as an infant. Lo'Lann walked and walked with him and sang him songs, and eventually he outgrew it. D'Argo remembers this and it doesn't hurt anymore.
He starts to hum one of the songs Lo'Lann favored. He doesn't remember the words but that's fine. Maybe it soothes the baby and maybe it doesn't, but D'Argo finds it calming as the wails continue.
There is a noise. A familiar noise. The diaper covering little D'Argo's rear gets damp. Also yellow. D'Argo finds a horizontal surface as fast as he can. Changing these is a skill he could never forget. Sure enough, dull yellow excrement fills the previously white cloth. D'Argo chuckles as he wipes down the boy's bottom and puts on a new diaper.
"There you go," he says, bringing the baby against his shoulder again. He's quieter now, a little, and D'Argo continues his humming.
The noise happens again.
D'Argo quickly pulls the baby away, mindful of his small, lolling head. Sure enough, more yellow slime is oozing down little D'Argo's leg through a gap between diaper and thigh.
D'Argo swears and puts the baby back on the table. He wipes the kid clean - again - and starts to put a new diaper on.
And then ...
D'Argo has seen geysers on geologically active worlds, so he has some context for the yellow fountain of fecal matter that extends a full handspan into the air as his namesake lets go. D'Argo's eyes widen, and he floats back a few inches to avoid getting covered. Another quick burst, and the goo finally stops. D'Argo looks mournfully at the rags he's gathered, knowing they're not nearly up to the task.
The tub is big enough for Rygel to bathe in; he's going to be upset when he finds out young D'Argo has just made it his own. The water is warm, and D'Argo has it situated on the table well enough that he can reach in easily. When the water becomes too disgusting, he pulls out the baby to lie on clean rags while he empties and refills the basin.
Little D'Argo coos as D'Argo places him back in the clean water. A tiny fist flails and splashes. D'Argo cleans the scrunched face, the small tuft of hair, each and every baby part. It has been so long since he's bathed an infant, and he wants to savor the experience.
He will have no more children, not with Chiana, not with anyone. But he will live, and he will have this child that carries his name. Jothee sent word that he has taken a wife, so there may be grandchildren to bathe and hold and cherish, and this is the nature of living again after he thought he was dead.
"Hey," says John. D'Argo looks up. John stands in the doorway. "I went to check on Aeryn, but she's asleep and Little D wasn't with her."
"She needed her rest," D'Argo says, drying the baby and dressing him in warm, clean clothes. Crichton doesn't try to stop him.
"How'd you get him to stop crying?"
D'Argo hasn't noticed before now. "I'm not sure. He just stopped."
Crichton comes over and reaches down for his son. D'Argo tenses, but doesn't stop him. The baby gurgles at his father and closes his eyes.
"I'm going to try to put him down for a nap," John says. "Thanks for watching him, Big D."
"It was no trouble."
"That commerce planet. You said you wouldn't mind if we ... " It's part question, part apology.
"Just let me know," D'Argo says. "And be sure to leave a lot of clean diapers."
"Thanks, man."
D'Argo smiles.
***