TITLE: "AGENDAS"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: M/F

RATING: NC-17

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "BONA FIDA"

WEBSITE: http://www.carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Aeryn and D'Argo almost come to blows as the loose ties of friendship begin to part under the strain."

The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.



"AGENDAS"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

It was weird how quickly he found himself acclimatising to life on Eventray. The warriors of Bish's clan accepted him as if he was some kind of appendage of the boy's. It was odd. As if he had no separate physical identity of his own. Now why in hezmana would he think that and what did it mean? Most of the warriors tolerated him well enough but they did not go out of their way to talk to him. One or two would nod as they passed and that made him feel a little better but he was also baffled. He saw the old warrior Sangut watching him, taking in the human's reactions. Bish was down by the waterhole and he was on the far side of the Forest with six of the clan. His clan now.

"Sangut, may I speak?"

The warrior lowered his head slightly in affirmation. The others had fanned out, keeping the perimeter of the Forest secure. Always secure.

"Why am I here?"

For a couple of microts it seemed as if he would be ignored. Some pale light shone in the liquid of the warrior's eyes. He was not sure what emotion it presaged. Maybe it was better not to know. "You belong to Bishyin now."

"What? How can I belong to anyone? I am my own person."

The warrior snorted but it was softly done. Almost a sound like humour but not reflected in his eyes or the austere planes of his dark face. "Bishyin saved your life. It belongs to him now."

Understanding dawned with a sickening crunch. He hoped it did not mean what he thought it meant. "Am I, am I a prisoner then?" He asked softly.

"You are clan. We are clan. No harm will come to you, this I swear. My life to you is forfeit if I lie."

He was really confused now. Sangut watched the emotions play across the human's face. No wonder Bishyin Mal was fascinated with this species. Perhaps he would be useful to them after all.

"If no harm will come to me," He said slowly. "Does this mean I can
go?"

"Go? Where would you go when you are already in *paradise*?"

Crichton's mouth dropped open in surprise. Paradise. That was how he had described this world to Bish after he had recovered from the poisoned dart. Bish must have told him what they had said. It gave him an odd feeling but that was good, wasn't it? The clan discussed things, even discussed him. That made them normal, right? Except out here normal was not human.

* * * * *

Aboard Moya the crew gathered to honour their fallen comrade. The remains were placed in a statis pod so they could be jettisoned. Aeryn felt her throat constrict. Crichton would never make it back to Earth. Never go back through the wormhole. Never go home. She felt as if she had failed him. For a microt there was utter silence. Dotted around the hangar bay were dozens and dozens of little DRDs, waiting like silent sentinels. She wondered what warped parody of emotion filtered through their biomechanoid circuits right now. Was it right to call it grief? She knew Crichton had formed a link with them. As absurd as it was to her and the rest of Moya's crew the human had reached out to the small robotic helpers and they had reached back. What was it Crichton had called it? Ah yes. Humanity. How frelling human of him to name it after his species and how frelling appropriate it was.

Typically it was Ka D'Argo who spoke first. The tears filling his eyes now soaking his cheeks yet he was not embarrassed at the display of emotion. His eyes were on the makeshift casket. His thoughts were on his friend. "Over the cycles I have known you John Crichton, you have become my closest friend. More than an ally. More than a brother. You have done so much for us. Taught us so many things even as we struggled to understand your human strangeness. Now I will miss that too. I will be less than I was when you were with us. More than I could have been without you. A part of my soul is lost with you. My hearts remember you. My warrior soul walks with you. Thank you my friend for being among us. For the battles we have shared and the victories we have savoured. For your giving spirit and the wisdom that kept us from falling apart. I wish we could have taken you home so that you could have seen your world again. I wish I could have known what that world was like. Whether all humans were like you. Somehow I think I would have been disappointed, holding them up to your standard and finding that they failed to reach it. I will remember you, my friend. All the days of my life."

D'Argo put a hand out and rested them on glistening white bones. He tried not to look at the split and fractured skull, gleaming with an intensity that was eerie. The empty eye sockets holding his gaze as if his friend wanted to say something back. It made the Luxan shudder. Woke other ghosts in him that were best left sleeping. He took a step away from the statis chamber and picked up his shilquen then gently laid it alongside the gleaming bones. It seemed fitting that a gentle man should have a gentle gift to guide him to his human rest. "Goodbye, my friend." He murmured, then he strode several paces to one side to make way for Chiana.

She was crying, her solitary figure bowed in grief and looking so lost. So lonely. Even Aeryn felt a brief stir of pity for her but Chiana was unaware. Her eyes on all that remained of John Crichton. It was not fair but then the Uncharted Territories had always seemed to take a perverse delight in tormenting the one person who did not deserve it. The one person who had managed to reach her and teach her to care again. The one person who had made it all bearable. "Hey, old man," She broke off for a moment, the familiarity of her greeting catching in her throat as it raised memories that were poignant and so very precious to her. "I never thought it would end like this, you know? I wanted you to meet my brother, to be there when all the wars were over. There would have been such feasts." She smiled painfully at the unintended irony and paused a microt, her head turning slowly in a familiar angle of thought. "This is really hard. This letting go. You never warned me and now I don't know if I can do it." She paused again, made an effort to pull herself together. For him. "I always loved you, you know that? Of course you do. You always saw more than the rest of us dumb loboks together. I just wish you could have had what you wanted, you know?" Chiana did not mention Aeryn but she knew that wherever his spirit was he would know what she meant. "I want you to know I'll never forget you." Chiana took something from her pocket and put it in the chamber next to the shilquen. It was his tape recorder. The battery had long gone dead and he had run out of tapes for it cycles ago but it was a link to his homeworld. Somehow it seemed important to Chiana that he had something to take with him of home. "Goodbye, love you old man." She whispered.

For a microt no one moved as Chiana went to stand next to D'Argo. Then there was a slight whirr as Rygel approached the remains. His leathery face solemn and sad. He looked down at the skull, not flinching from the empty orbs. Wanting his words to touch whatever was left of his friend. "You once told me that doing the right thing starts at the beginning of the day not at the end. I am not an emotional creature. I have been through too much, seen too many things, but you gave that back to me. The ability to feel what others feel. To care about how my actions and words could affect others. You gave me back what a hundred cycles of torture took away from me. Thank you John Crichton for all of your gifts. The ones you were not even aware of as well as those so freely given. I pray you go to the Hallowed Realm or wherever it is your people go when they have earned a place of rest. A place of *peace*." The last word was said with especial emphasis, remembering Crichton's words to him on Aquarra. The words Ka D'Argo had repeated to the Dominar afterwards about it being the only place he had found peace. He had intended to say more but for a microt he could not speak. Emotion robbed him of words. He nodded silently at the skull. Crichton would have understood and it was that unique understanding of his that lent the human such grace. It was that which he would miss most of all. "Goodbye my friend, and may you find the peace you seek." Rygel lay a book at the bottom of the statis pod. Written in the ancient Hynerian text. A book that was blessed to bless the man who had come to mean so much to him. To them.

Aeryn stared at the statis pod. Took a dozen microts to steal herself before she could bring herself to approach it. She was crying silent tears of grief and rage made bitter by her feelings of guilt. A terrible sorrow on her face. "I should have been with you, John. Should have been there to protect you. I wasn't. I'm sorry and I will carry that regret with me until I die." She paused and fingered something small in her hand. "I don't know where to begin. You did so much and asked so little." The last words hurt her. He had asked so little of her yet right until the end she had denied him through nothing more than her own stubborn temper. And over what? Nothing. "You said I could be more." She whispered. "But how could I know I could only be more if I was with you? I don't want to do this. We don't say goodbye so I won't say it now." She opened her palm and looked at the communication device. His last link to Moya. To them. She had washed the blood off and lay it gently now on top of the nest of bones. Looked into the empty eye sockets of the skull and without taking her eyes off it took a small dagger out of her jacket and carefully hacked off a lock of her hair. She trembled as she placed it next to the communicator. Knowing the odd practice would mean something special to him. "I hope there is something beyond your light John. That everyone you have ever loved who has loved you will be waiting for you. And I hope when it is my time to die that I will also see that same light. That it will bring me back to you."

She walked away and stood next to Rygel. Nervously Jool approached the statis pod and peered inside. "I didn't know you as well as the others and at first I didn't even like you." She ignored the frown appearing on D'Argo's face at her choice of words. "But I came to respect you and forgive you for what happened. I don't know why this had to happen but we live, we die, the Uncharted Territories go on. I'm just glad I got to know you and I'm sorry that you're gone." Jool dipped her head and said a prayer for him in her own tongue. She knew that Moya and Pilot understood the words but doubted that any of the others would. That suited her just fine.

For several microts there was utter silence as Jool moved away. All the words that needed to be said had been spoken. There was nothing to do but release the chamber to the depths of space. Aeryn had chosen the spot. Out there among the stars he loved so very much. Pilot and Moya had agreed and as the statis pod was released it was fired unerringly in the direction of the brightest star. His one true constant. While his friends and its' grieving namesake looked on.

* * * * *

As the evening began to approach the warriors converged. The watering hole was not empty now. Bishyin stood with his sister Rana and many of the clan. But there were others also. To his surprised Crichton realised they were all female. It made him think of the amazons of his own planet. Tribes of female warriors as proud and as vicious as any male. He looked at them with interest. Noticed similarities between the two clans. They were definitely the same species but if the sexes were kept apart why did Bish allow his sister to remain with the men? Or was it because she was so young? Where were their parents? And why was a boy like Bish the chief of the clan? Sangut nudged his shoulder and Crichton realised a feast had been laid out for them. He moved to join the others, Bish's eye meeting his as a space opened up beside him. His look told Crichton where he was expected to sit. A solemn nod was the only communication between them. Crichton sat on the floor next to Bish and watched the other clan members take their places. A long row of foods were laid out on panapa leaves on the ground in front of them. The other side of the makeshift table was taken by the female warriors.

Crichton looked at the food. Curious as to what they would be eating. Since joining the clan he had only eaten fruit and vegetables. There had been no meat. His eye travelled over the swollen fruits, the tantalising roots scrubbed and pickled in something similar to lime juice. It sounded foul but tasted divine. He saw no meat. The clans must be vegetarian and yet he had seen skulls. Several solar days ago he had come across some by accident. Descending one of the panapa trees he had noticed the base of the trunk appeared to be hollow. He wondered why the clan did not just use the interior of the massive trees to sleep in then found out why. This was where the bones and skulls were. Not piled up or buried in the ground but laid out with care as if each one meant something to them. The bones were almost bleached white and gleaming in accusation at him for disturbing their rest. Rest. Was this their equivalent of graves? He did not know but suspected it was a holy place to them so he had come out of the bole of the tree quickly and said nothing. If he had somehow desecrated a sacred place by his innocent curiosity he was not about to open his mouth and find out what they did to transgressors.

He looked up and wondered why they were waiting. He glanced at Bish. Bish was looking at the girl sitting opposite him. A raven beauty no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Something occurred to him, made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. He looked up and down the row and noticed each male was *paired* with a female in his age group. Was that significant or manners? Somehow he did not expect the answer to come with napkins. None of the men moved. They all seemed to be waiting patiently. <Well at least the food won't get cold> Then the female opposite Bish smiled at the little chief and picked up a slice of fruit. She dipped it in the sour lime juice, took a bite then offered the other half up to Bish's lips. He opened his mouth and let her place the fruit inside. Everybody watched and waited. Bish chewed slowly, a large smile of delight flushing his face. The men relaxed, the women smiled. Crichton was about to reach for some fruit when Sangut put a hand over his and whispered in his ear. "You may look but not touch."

He frowned. "How the hell am I supposed to eat? I'm starving."

He heard a dark chuckle tickle his ear canal and realised he had never heard Sangut laugh before. <What? Was starving to death funny to these people?> "John, follow the example that has been set for you."

Then the warrior was sitting upright again, facing his host politely. Crichton frowned, frustrated. He calmed himself down and looked at the woman opposite him. Her skin was darker than his, a dusky brown with golden highlights that caught the ambient light flickering down through the canopy of leaves as she moved. Muscles rippling beneath smooth skin that shone with health and youth and vitality. Her hair was jet black with a dark blue sheen and fell to the middle of her back. The whiteness of her smile dazzled him. Her eyes were jade green with lighter flecks in their depths but they changed to a pearlescent glow of moonlight when trapped in the shade. The light brought out the green, the shadow bathed them in moonlight. He held his breath in wonder, watched her with a kind of growing awe. He found he did not mind waiting so much. She watched him become calm and focus on her then as if that was a sign she picked up a slice of fruit and dipped it in the sour lime juice. He knew what was coming now. Watched fascinated as she slowly brought her hand up to her mouth and neatly bit the fruit in half, chewing it slowly then offering the other half up to him. He opened his mouth and waited. She placed the fruit in his mouth then let her fingers brush the juice across his lips as he closed them. The sweetness burst on his tongue then the tang of the juice penetrated and drew a smile of surprise and pleasure over his face. The woman smiled back. Pleased. Man he had to get himself some of this fruit to take home with him.

He had no idea how long the meal lasted but it was unhurried, relaxing and strangely erotic. Weird but weird in a nice way. He wished all his meals were like this one. As she slowly fed him piece by exotic piece, he lapsed into her rythym and took his time following the contours of her face with his eyes, noticing the way she followed the play of his emotions. Drinking them in. The wonderful sinuous movement of her hands, the graceful dance that she had initiated between them. Now she reached the large purple fruit. His favourite. He wondered what she would taste like with that fruit on her lips. She took a large slice and bit into it, the juice running down from her lips in slow motion. Without thinking he leaned over the food between them and caught the juice on his fingers then slowly brought the fingers to his mouth and sucked the juice off. He was totally unaware that everyone else had stopped eating for a microt. Then Bish looked at the warrior opposite him and bowed low to her. She bowed back and the rest continued eating, couples drifting away as they ate their fill. Their partners with them. No one went far. Privacy seemed to be something alien to the clans. They kept their activities among them. There was danger in isolation. Safety within the clan. The concept was subtly reinforced in all that they did. From washing to sleeping to mating.

* * * * *

Ka D'Argo was finding himself doing the one thing he had vowed not to do. Argue with Aeryn. It was too soon after Crichton's death. They were all too raw with grief for this. But Aeryn had been to Pilot, insisted he ask Moya to turn around and return to Eventray. D'Argo had told Pilot not to go anywhere. Confused and distressed Moya hung in the vastness of space and grieved at the harsh words being traded in command. D'Argo was pacing up and down. Aeryn stood angry and resolute, staring right through him with something chillingly approaching hatred. He knew it for what it was and was determined to stop her giving in to the dark desolation of her soul. A desolation that could destroy them all. The others were in the mess hall. Ka D'Argo was grateful they did not have to witness this. Aeryn was not the only one in pain. He prayed his friend would forgive him for the things he was about to say but he had to find a way to reach Aeryn. To snap her out of this. By force if necessary.

"You never listened to John when he was alive. You were always turning your back on him. Now - just because he is dead - you decide to *do* something about it." He ended in a scathing tone.

Aeryn flashed dark eyes at him. "That is *not* fair, D'Argo, and you know it!"

"I don't like fair, Aeryn. It hurts too much."

"And why is my desire, my *need* to go and revenge myself on the people who did this to John so different from what you intend to do to Macton?"

"That is different Aeryn and.."

She cut him off. "How? Tell me *how* that is different, Ka D'Argo?"

"I know who killed Lo'lann. You do not know who or what killed John."

"Then I will find out."

D'Argo's voice became hushed. Pain, sadness and the futility of it all weighed in equal measure in his subdued voice. The words taking pieces of his hearts with them. "Yes Aeryn, and you will take the rest of us with you. This isn't about revenge or justice for John, it's..."

She did not let him finish. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed heavily. A sigh so deep it made his hearts ache in pain. "It's about you. Your guilt because you refused to go down to the planet with him and..."

Aeryn was seething now. "How *dare* you!"

He paused a microt to steady his voice against the tide of rising frustration. "Aeryn. For once let me finish a sentence at least with the illusion that you are actually listening."

She spat her words back at him. Each one tinged with bitterness. "I will listen when you have something worth listening to."

"How will you ever know when you will not even listen to your friends?"

But Ka D'Argo was already talking to empty air. Aeryn had already left, the heat of her passing making D'Argo flush in her wake. He opened a channel to Pilot. "Pilot, Aeryn is not herself right now. Her grief over the loss of John is making her irrational."

Pilot sounded worried. "What can I do?"

"We must stop her from trying to leave Moya. At least until we can make Aeryn see reason."

"That may be harder to do than you think, Ka D'Argo."

D'Argo closed his eyes slowly then reopened them again. "I know but we must try. John would not want her to throw her life away uselessly in vengeance."

"Moya and I agree."

He sighed. "Aeryn will try to convince you to go back to the planet, Pilot. Whatever she says you must not do it."

"Perhaps if we allowed Aeryn to go she could realise the futility of going back?"

He shook his head. "It will not work Pilot. You know Aeryn. If she cannot find out who did this to John her fury will be unleashed on the unfortunate people of that planet. I, for one, do not want her grief to propel us into war."

Pilot's voice floated back much subdued. "Moya and I will do what we can."

"Thank you, Pilot. My thanks also to Moya."

He shut the com off and stared without seeing. Crichton had been gone only a few weekens and already they were falling apart. Chiana was talking of leaving to find Nerri. Rygel was also making plans to go and try to wreast his throne back from his cousin. And he had sworn to find Macton and make him pay for what he had done to Lo'lann. Tears pricked his eyes. Was Aeryn right after all? Was his need for vengeance any different than her own?

* * * * *

The fruit was so sweet but not as sweet as her lips. Her name was Hemnoth and she was every man's wet dream come to life in startling cinemascope and surround-sound. Technicolour would not do her justice. His head was swimming with erotic thoughts, his senses awash with her taste, her touch, her scent, her fingers touching him as she plied him with more of the delicious fruit. The strange sour lime juice bringing out something in the fruit that he could not get enough of. She bit off another piece and this time transferred the fruit to him with a kiss. The kiss lingered, her tongue caressing the fruit into his mouth as he moaned softly, the fruit breaking down into a delicious pulp on his tongue flavouring her kiss as they toppled to the ground. Around them other couples were doing the same. Hardly more than a handspan between some of the slowly writhing bodies. He was oblivious to everyone except Hemnoth. She blew him away with a touch. Hands undressing him and seeking his flesh, his body moulding to hers as her scant clothing fell away. Still she plied their kisses with fruit, let the juices run down her chin so he could chase it with his lips as he sucked and licked until he reached a ripe full breast. Heaven. He was in Heaven and she knew how to keep him there. Extract every last thing she needed from him. They rolled until she was on top, her strong arms raised her body off his so she could look down on him with dark jade sultry eyes, her breasts hanging like more fruit ready to be plucked and harvested.

He lathed first one nipple then the next with his tongue, eyes closed in bliss. She rested on one strong arm and reached for a bowl of the sour lime juice. He felt her body shift slightly above him but not enough to dislodge the nipple he was caressing in his mouth between teeth and tongue. His eyes cracked open a fraction and she smiled back at him. Her hand dipped in the bowl, she arched back and watched the sorrow on his face as her breast broke free of him. His hands caressed her buttocks, stroked the curve of her hips with his sensitive fingers as he waited and watched to see what she would do. What she wanted. She dipped her hand in the bowl and rubbed the juice lavishly over her body, her breasts glistening with the juices, his body groaning with the need to taste and devour her. She now rubbed the juice all over him too, right down to the soft wiry forest that sheltered his rising manhood. Then she dipped her head to lick his chest and suck it off him as he opened his mouth to take in a full breast now flavoured for him to enjoy and savour. She lowered herself enough to let their bodies glide against each other but not to rest her full weight on him. Not just yet. She liked to watch as she made love, wanted to see the way he would fit himself inside her. How he would bring their bodies together as she orchestrated the levels of his passion to fulfill her own in climax.

Her clan usually mated once a year, more often if they found particularly compatible partners. This one was different. Gentle in his compliance but aware of her body in ways that excited her. There was nothing rushed or hurried about him. His pace suited her passion so perfectly. She was fascinated by the blue of his eyes and the way he liked to keep eye contact with her, read and react to the needs of her body as if pleasing her gave him the greatest of all pleasures. That turned her on so much. She could not look away from those beautiful blue eyes. Reflected skies that made her grow weak just looking at him. She was tempted to keep this one. If the little chief would let her. In the meantime she had work for him to do. It would be strenuous and last all through the night but she would make it worth his while.

* * * * *