Farscape: Déjà Vu All Over Again
Category: John and Scorpius
Spoilers: Up through S4-Bad Timing
Rating: Hetch 9 [for bad, bad language :)]
Words: 1,724
Disclaimer: Am not, never have been, affiliated with Henson, etc. Characters are not mine...I wish.
Story Notes: Many, many thanks to simplystars for the beta. As I knew she would, she helped to make this a better story than it started out to be. I wrote this for a farscapefriday ficathon...it was for the lovely kixxa, who didn't have many demands...just that it was John and Scorpy with no schmoop! *g*
Enjoy!
*~*~*
Déjà Vu All Over Again
Ah, but that is where you're wrong John. You will never be alone.
--Go 'way Harv. Don't want you here right now. Tired.
Do you have something better to do?
--Yeah, it's called sleep.
Yet, you don't sleep. Why is that?
--Because my stomach's growling like a caged pit bull. Because you're always makin' noise in my head. How the hell do I know?
I should think, at this juncture, you would be thankful for the company.
--Well, I'm not.
You will come to see my usefulness.
--Yeah, yeah. I used to say that to all the girls. They never really bought it either.
Ever the doubting Thomas.
--John. Name's John. I wish you'd remember that.
The buzzing stops and silence fills his mind.
--Harv?
Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
He huddles, back pressed tight against the wall, arms wrapped around himself in an effort to hold some warmth close to his body. Shivering, he mutters, "Useful my ass."
It's not as if he misses the clone when he's gone. It's just...the scary part is, sometimes he is thankful for the company.
*~*~*
After Qujaga, they'd packed up Moya and gotten the hell outta Dodge. Staying one step ahead of the Peacekeepers proved tricky, but they'd become adept at anticipating just how long they could linger in one place.
For monens, their luck had held--they hadn't been spotted. He and Aeryn had managed to find even ground, the pregnancy was advancing smoothly, they had run across a diagnosan who was helping Chiana, even Sparky had mellowed out. It made perfect sense to John that just when everything seemed too good to be true Fate had once again reared its ugly mug.
When the transport pod carrying Aeryn, D'Argo, and Chiana had disappeared on a routine supply run, it hadn't been an immediate cause for alarm. He'd only stayed behind by default. After a stupid argument with Aeryn, she'd gone off and left him. He'd gotten the message loud and clear: she'd always be able to take care of herself.
They'd had narrow escapes with the Peacekeepers before, instances when they'd had to hole up for a few days before they could safely make it back to Moya. This time, as days had turned into a weeken, concern had quickly morphed into abject fear. He and Rygel had scoured the commerce planet while Pilot and Noranti waited on Moya, eavesdropping, hoping to pick up any kind of transmission that might point to the trio's whereabouts.
Staying in one place too long was dangerous, but John couldn't leave. If D'Argo and Chiana were gone, it would be hard, but he could go on. Without Aeryn...without the baby...there didn't seem to be much point...to anything.
As weekens had stretched into a monen, Pilot and Moya had become increasingly anxious. Finally, John couldn't convince the two to stay any longer.
"Commander...there's nothing I can do. Moya is extremely distressed about the loss of Officer Sun, Captain D'Argo and Chiana, but she has made it clear. She will not be captured again. I am sorry."
Being on the Leviathan--without Aeryn, D'Argo, and Chiana was something he couldn't face, so John said his goodbyes, fired up his module, and flew with no purpose, no destination, no goal except to escape the pain.
John, you must stop this foolishness.
--And why is that Harv?
Your shipmates are lost. After everything you've endured, for you to give up now would be pointless.
Out of fuel, and out of hope, or maybe just to spite Harvey, he ended up ditching Farscape One on the first planet that was close enough. At the time, he was afraid he was going to die.
Now, he wishes he had.
He isn't sure how long he's been here. Months, probably; he gave up trying to keep track pretty early on. They keep him isolated, hungry, and cold; whether with purpose, or just neglect, he can't tell.
No one talks to him. Doesn't mean he hasn't tried to communicate with them. All he's earned for his efforts are blank looks, a half-hearted thump on the head, and harsh-sounding words in a language the translator microbes can't decipher.
He guesses they aren't going to be starting a conversational group any time soon.
Lately he wishes that something would happen...one way or another. He's never been very good at waiting, and now it's especially difficult because there really isn't anything to wait for, anymore.
*~*~*
When the two aliens (he's dubbed them Humpty and Dumpty because of their smooth, eggshell-pale skin and roly-poly bodies) come to get him, John can tell something's up. He senses it in their purposeful stride, the way they jibber-jabber animatedly back and forth, and the insistent poking that gets him on his feet and moving.
"Take me to your leader," he quips and watches as the two exchange glances. He can almost see them shaking their heads in disgust. Seems no one gets his sense of humor in this goddamn place.
After he's been marched hither and yon, he's left in a room by himself. Opulent it's not, but it is a far sight better than what he's been used to, lately. There's furniture, a clean floor, plenty of light. And it's warm...like Moya. If he closes his eyes, he can nearly hear the familiar hum.
"Hello, John."
Like Pavlov's dog, the reaction is instantaneous. Revulsion, fear, breathless panic, all of those and more, slam through John until he thinks he might scream. Tears sting his eyes, blurring his vision. He squeezes them shut as his teeth clench together.
Will. Not. Cry. Won't give that sick bastard the satisfaction of knowing. Take a moment. Just calm the fuck down.
Slowly he turns to Scorpius, sets his face in a façade of devil-may-care nonchalance, even though he's afraid his heart will pound right out of his chest and lay twitching on the table between them in a pool of scarlet.
Seems by now, he'd be used to his skin crawling at the sound of Scorpy's voice. He bares his teeth in a mocking grin as he greets the half-breed. "Fancy meetin' you here, Grasshopper."
"It seems our paths cross again, John."
"Yeah, imagine that. You're kinda like a bad penny...you just keep turning up."
The smart-ass comment earns him a slight smile from Scorpius that turns John's stomach. It's a good thing he hasn't eaten recently because he's sure he'd have hurled all over Scorpy's shiny black boots.
"Did you honestly think that I wouldn't try to find you?"
"Hmmm, honestly? I suppose not. But damn Dino, how many times do I have to put you outta the house before you learn to stay out?"
"Oh John, I had forgotten just how much you do amuse me."
"Well, I'm usually all for being the class clown, but this time...not so much. What's the deal, Scorpy?" His voice is sharper than he intends it to be. Falling back on old habits, he uses aggression to mask his fear. He is surprised how it comes so easily, even now.
"Such impatience. I had hoped you would outgrow that pointless human trait by now."
John can see the half-breed is reveling in the cat and mouse game. He always had gotten off on being the one in control, the one with all the power. Some things would never change.
"You know what they say about teaching old dogs new tricks. Well, maybe you don't," he says with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, doesn't matter. Look, I've got places to go, people to see, how's about we cut to the chase. Just tell me what you want, I'll say no way in hell, and then you can be on your merry-frelling-way back to wherever it is you're haunting this cycle."
"It seems that we have come full circle, John. You know what I require. I know what you want."
"Yeah? And just what do I want, Grasshopper?"
"Why, to reunite with Moya and your shipmates, of course."
The bastard doesn't know, or he's playing the game really well. John isn't sure. He's rusty, and too tired of running to give a shit. All he wants to do is lay down, go to sleep, and never wake up. There's peace in that, and he doesn't look at it as giving up; not anymore.
"What kind of dance are we doin' this time? Rumba, Texas two-step, Funky Chicken? Please tell me you're not gonna step on my toes again."
"I remind you, John, at one time we had an agreement. I helped you rescue Aeryn Sun in good faith, but you never held up your end of the bargain."
"That so? I remember you saying you'd trade your life for a bunch of frelling flowers. Do not tell me all that was for nothin'. You'd better not say it didn't have any affect on the Scarrans."
"Quite the contrary. The Scarrans are no longer a threat. You managed to cripple them quite effectively, John. It will be 50 cycles or more before they regain the intelligence they once enjoyed."
The delight in the son of a bitch's voice turns John's stomach again.
"So what's your problem, Scorp? Did you lie when you said the flowers would be enough?"
"Oh no, I was quite sincere--at the time. However, circumstances change, John; and in order to survive, we must adapt. You, of all people, should have learned that by now."
A weary laugh escapes him. "Yeah, you'd think."
"So, we seem to be back at square one. While the Scarrans are no longer a cause for concern, the Nebari are a much greater threat. It is imperative that I obtain the wormhole knowledge you possess."
"Déjà vu all over again. Except this time, I'm not takin' the bait. Been there, done that, definitely not goin' back."
With a curl of his lip, Scorpius continues. "Give me wormholes, and I will reunite you with Aeryn Sun, and your infant daughter. It's simple, really."
He doesn't know if the cadaverous fuck is telling the truth, but it doesn't much matter. If there is any chance in Hell they're alive, John knows he can't risk turning away now.
Aeryn Sun and your infant daughter. It's simple, really.
Aeryn Sun and your infant daughter.
It's simple, really.
End
Spoilers: Up through S4-Bad Timing
Rating: Hetch 9 [for bad, bad language :)]
Words: 1,724
Disclaimer: Am not, never have been, affiliated with Henson, etc. Characters are not mine...I wish.
Story Notes: Many, many thanks to simplystars for the beta. As I knew she would, she helped to make this a better story than it started out to be. I wrote this for a farscapefriday ficathon...it was for the lovely kixxa, who didn't have many demands...just that it was John and Scorpy with no schmoop! *g*
Enjoy!
*~*~*
Déjà Vu All Over Again
Ah, but that is where you're wrong John. You will never be alone.
--Go 'way Harv. Don't want you here right now. Tired.
Do you have something better to do?
--Yeah, it's called sleep.
Yet, you don't sleep. Why is that?
--Because my stomach's growling like a caged pit bull. Because you're always makin' noise in my head. How the hell do I know?
I should think, at this juncture, you would be thankful for the company.
--Well, I'm not.
You will come to see my usefulness.
--Yeah, yeah. I used to say that to all the girls. They never really bought it either.
Ever the doubting Thomas.
--John. Name's John. I wish you'd remember that.
The buzzing stops and silence fills his mind.
--Harv?
Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
He huddles, back pressed tight against the wall, arms wrapped around himself in an effort to hold some warmth close to his body. Shivering, he mutters, "Useful my ass."
It's not as if he misses the clone when he's gone. It's just...the scary part is, sometimes he is thankful for the company.
*~*~*
After Qujaga, they'd packed up Moya and gotten the hell outta Dodge. Staying one step ahead of the Peacekeepers proved tricky, but they'd become adept at anticipating just how long they could linger in one place.
For monens, their luck had held--they hadn't been spotted. He and Aeryn had managed to find even ground, the pregnancy was advancing smoothly, they had run across a diagnosan who was helping Chiana, even Sparky had mellowed out. It made perfect sense to John that just when everything seemed too good to be true Fate had once again reared its ugly mug.
When the transport pod carrying Aeryn, D'Argo, and Chiana had disappeared on a routine supply run, it hadn't been an immediate cause for alarm. He'd only stayed behind by default. After a stupid argument with Aeryn, she'd gone off and left him. He'd gotten the message loud and clear: she'd always be able to take care of herself.
They'd had narrow escapes with the Peacekeepers before, instances when they'd had to hole up for a few days before they could safely make it back to Moya. This time, as days had turned into a weeken, concern had quickly morphed into abject fear. He and Rygel had scoured the commerce planet while Pilot and Noranti waited on Moya, eavesdropping, hoping to pick up any kind of transmission that might point to the trio's whereabouts.
Staying in one place too long was dangerous, but John couldn't leave. If D'Argo and Chiana were gone, it would be hard, but he could go on. Without Aeryn...without the baby...there didn't seem to be much point...to anything.
As weekens had stretched into a monen, Pilot and Moya had become increasingly anxious. Finally, John couldn't convince the two to stay any longer.
"Commander...there's nothing I can do. Moya is extremely distressed about the loss of Officer Sun, Captain D'Argo and Chiana, but she has made it clear. She will not be captured again. I am sorry."
Being on the Leviathan--without Aeryn, D'Argo, and Chiana was something he couldn't face, so John said his goodbyes, fired up his module, and flew with no purpose, no destination, no goal except to escape the pain.
John, you must stop this foolishness.
--And why is that Harv?
Your shipmates are lost. After everything you've endured, for you to give up now would be pointless.
Out of fuel, and out of hope, or maybe just to spite Harvey, he ended up ditching Farscape One on the first planet that was close enough. At the time, he was afraid he was going to die.
Now, he wishes he had.
He isn't sure how long he's been here. Months, probably; he gave up trying to keep track pretty early on. They keep him isolated, hungry, and cold; whether with purpose, or just neglect, he can't tell.
No one talks to him. Doesn't mean he hasn't tried to communicate with them. All he's earned for his efforts are blank looks, a half-hearted thump on the head, and harsh-sounding words in a language the translator microbes can't decipher.
He guesses they aren't going to be starting a conversational group any time soon.
Lately he wishes that something would happen...one way or another. He's never been very good at waiting, and now it's especially difficult because there really isn't anything to wait for, anymore.
*~*~*
When the two aliens (he's dubbed them Humpty and Dumpty because of their smooth, eggshell-pale skin and roly-poly bodies) come to get him, John can tell something's up. He senses it in their purposeful stride, the way they jibber-jabber animatedly back and forth, and the insistent poking that gets him on his feet and moving.
"Take me to your leader," he quips and watches as the two exchange glances. He can almost see them shaking their heads in disgust. Seems no one gets his sense of humor in this goddamn place.
After he's been marched hither and yon, he's left in a room by himself. Opulent it's not, but it is a far sight better than what he's been used to, lately. There's furniture, a clean floor, plenty of light. And it's warm...like Moya. If he closes his eyes, he can nearly hear the familiar hum.
"Hello, John."
Like Pavlov's dog, the reaction is instantaneous. Revulsion, fear, breathless panic, all of those and more, slam through John until he thinks he might scream. Tears sting his eyes, blurring his vision. He squeezes them shut as his teeth clench together.
Will. Not. Cry. Won't give that sick bastard the satisfaction of knowing. Take a moment. Just calm the fuck down.
Slowly he turns to Scorpius, sets his face in a façade of devil-may-care nonchalance, even though he's afraid his heart will pound right out of his chest and lay twitching on the table between them in a pool of scarlet.
Seems by now, he'd be used to his skin crawling at the sound of Scorpy's voice. He bares his teeth in a mocking grin as he greets the half-breed. "Fancy meetin' you here, Grasshopper."
"It seems our paths cross again, John."
"Yeah, imagine that. You're kinda like a bad penny...you just keep turning up."
The smart-ass comment earns him a slight smile from Scorpius that turns John's stomach. It's a good thing he hasn't eaten recently because he's sure he'd have hurled all over Scorpy's shiny black boots.
"Did you honestly think that I wouldn't try to find you?"
"Hmmm, honestly? I suppose not. But damn Dino, how many times do I have to put you outta the house before you learn to stay out?"
"Oh John, I had forgotten just how much you do amuse me."
"Well, I'm usually all for being the class clown, but this time...not so much. What's the deal, Scorpy?" His voice is sharper than he intends it to be. Falling back on old habits, he uses aggression to mask his fear. He is surprised how it comes so easily, even now.
"Such impatience. I had hoped you would outgrow that pointless human trait by now."
John can see the half-breed is reveling in the cat and mouse game. He always had gotten off on being the one in control, the one with all the power. Some things would never change.
"You know what they say about teaching old dogs new tricks. Well, maybe you don't," he says with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, doesn't matter. Look, I've got places to go, people to see, how's about we cut to the chase. Just tell me what you want, I'll say no way in hell, and then you can be on your merry-frelling-way back to wherever it is you're haunting this cycle."
"It seems that we have come full circle, John. You know what I require. I know what you want."
"Yeah? And just what do I want, Grasshopper?"
"Why, to reunite with Moya and your shipmates, of course."
The bastard doesn't know, or he's playing the game really well. John isn't sure. He's rusty, and too tired of running to give a shit. All he wants to do is lay down, go to sleep, and never wake up. There's peace in that, and he doesn't look at it as giving up; not anymore.
"What kind of dance are we doin' this time? Rumba, Texas two-step, Funky Chicken? Please tell me you're not gonna step on my toes again."
"I remind you, John, at one time we had an agreement. I helped you rescue Aeryn Sun in good faith, but you never held up your end of the bargain."
"That so? I remember you saying you'd trade your life for a bunch of frelling flowers. Do not tell me all that was for nothin'. You'd better not say it didn't have any affect on the Scarrans."
"Quite the contrary. The Scarrans are no longer a threat. You managed to cripple them quite effectively, John. It will be 50 cycles or more before they regain the intelligence they once enjoyed."
The delight in the son of a bitch's voice turns John's stomach again.
"So what's your problem, Scorp? Did you lie when you said the flowers would be enough?"
"Oh no, I was quite sincere--at the time. However, circumstances change, John; and in order to survive, we must adapt. You, of all people, should have learned that by now."
A weary laugh escapes him. "Yeah, you'd think."
"So, we seem to be back at square one. While the Scarrans are no longer a cause for concern, the Nebari are a much greater threat. It is imperative that I obtain the wormhole knowledge you possess."
"Déjà vu all over again. Except this time, I'm not takin' the bait. Been there, done that, definitely not goin' back."
With a curl of his lip, Scorpius continues. "Give me wormholes, and I will reunite you with Aeryn Sun, and your infant daughter. It's simple, really."
He doesn't know if the cadaverous fuck is telling the truth, but it doesn't much matter. If there is any chance in Hell they're alive, John knows he can't risk turning away now.
Aeryn Sun and your infant daughter. It's simple, really.
Aeryn Sun and your infant daughter.
It's simple, really.
End