TITLE: "FORGED IN FIRE"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: Stark/Zhaan John/Aeryn

RATING: PG-13

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: First in the 'Firestorm Series'.

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

SUMMARY: "Stark takes Bork, Alphia and Heronn home then heads back to Moya. Not realising that the past is about to catch up with him."

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


"FORGED IN FIRE"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

The ship was not lighter than air but it could have been. The bright luminescent cluster caught at his heart and did weird and wonderful things to his insides. Voices he had long missed sang through him with the music of the spheres. Light and colour lent him their song, the solar winds danced to his resounding joy, amplified and beatified by Bork's shining presence. Stark was sorry to part from Alphia and Heronn but happy to see them join with the others. Death was always a moment of exquisite parting, joy and sorrow twin agonies of flesh and spirit each seeking their union with the divine. He held their masks, unclasped his own and for a few arns only the brilliant waxing of their joint suns filled his universe. A universe full of light, of love, of companionship and joy without ending. They gave of their memories to each other, shared emotions so poignant it would have broken mortal hearts. Beyond laughter or tears they did not touch perfection they dwelt within it. A state so close to bliss that even the gentle winds of heaven could not find a crack to admit the darkness that threatened but could never intrude.

Stark was awash with tears, his spirit expanding and burning through the confines of his mortal flesh. Bork joined with him and they partook of the last leave-taking. Bork knew his mind, his spirit, his soul. Shared his essence. <You could stay>

He smiled. <I could never leave Zhaan>

<Yet you did>

<To bring them home, Bork>

He felt the warmth of that gently pulsating light that Crichton had called an Angel agree with him. Not in words. Not even in song. But in intent. It soothed and caressed him in a way that strengthened his thoughts and healed him.

<I should come with you>

Stark shook his head slowly. Such calm joy flashing through his semi-transpicuous body that he might as well have been a shimmer of gossamer, the fibres of his being had become so thin. <No, my friend, you belong with them>

<I am a part of you>

<That is why you must stay>

There was silence in their minds as they expanded to share in the consciousness that bathed them so selflessly in love. Understanding outshone the stars, immortalized every thought and emotion, shared every tear and smile. Promises were bequeathed not spoken. Deeds a dust finer than any powder. Only the memories held power over them for they were invested with emotion. A myriad voices sang his name and the harmony they made was so faultless that he would rather die than have it end. It flowed like blood through mortal veins. Phantom hands touched him and embraced him, layer upon layer upon layer. No weight, no burden. Their love freed him in ways that were impossible to share without the expansion and absorption of consciousness that was the ultimate gift of his people. Scorpius thought they were dead but he had no concept of what true death really was. Not the cessation of mortal flesh but the complete absence of light, warmth, emotion. Love. Evil lived in a long dark night of the soul that ate hopes and dreams and wishes and vanquished anything that carried that merest hint of goodness. No comfort in the shallow world of negativity such beings wrapped around themselves. A selfish cloak that did not conserve energy and heat but consumed it.

He felt Bork's warmth in his mind and knew he must go soon. While he still could. Waves of sadness touched his thoughts, missing him already. The longing almost painful in its' gentle intensity. What words were there for this? He had none but they knew. Understood. Cared and accepted. When his time came they would be waiting still. His place among them already prepared. Space too for Zhaan should she join him. He could not imagine any life thereafter without her. For a moment he thought of the countless Baniks who had been enslaved by the very masks that now gave him such freedom. Almost he could thank their enemy for the unintended gift but the price had been too high. Too high. Too many Baniks had been unable to hold the pieces of themselves together and had fragmented into the chaos of madness. He sailed the edge but always the light rescued him, gave him a compass for his soul. Crichton knew. Had seen it close up when they were imprisoned together on the Peace Keeper ship. He had not told Crichton everything. The tests, the tortures he had endured at the hands of Scorpius as he tried to fathom out the secrets of his mask. He was Stykera, a Banik attuned to the dead and the dying. Not all Baniks had the gift. Zhaan knew some but not all. On his return he would show her the rest. It was a necessary opening up that would take their merging to the final stage. If she could accept what she found there then they would be together always.

* * * * *

"Crichton!"

D'Argo's bellow was filled with irritation. DRDs scattered out of his way as the Luxan stormed through Moya's corridors looking for the human. Crichton did not hear him. He was deep in the bowels of the leviathan trying to repair some broken connections. Unfortunately the section he was working on was also rapidly filling with amnexus fluid and he was covered in it. His eyes were beginning to smart but he could not stop now. He was so close. Just another half arn and he would have it. Plug the leak, crawl out and get cleaned up. He was tired. Close to exhaustion. What had started out as a routine repair had become the leviathan equivalent of a marathon. On a scale of one to ten it rated nine and three quarters. No sooner did he fix one broken connection that Pilot would direct him to another one. He took a deep breath and dived back down beneath the fluid, eyes stinging as he tried to keep them open long enough to locate what he was looking for. There it was. The last connection. Hands slippery, fingers going numb, it took him four tries to make the connection. He had just finished when D'Argo burst into the section he was working in releasing enough fluid to completely drench him. The full blown hyper rage that followed gave Crichton the most painful of flashbacks. Uh oh. And he was stuck in a narrow conduit in the bowels of the ship far from the others. This was *not* good.

"Uh D'Argo, what's up?"

"Crichton! What the frell do you think you are doing?"

Crichton, not John. He could almost see his life flashing before his eyes. He was not up to this right now. All he wanted was a nice hot shower and his bed. "Moya had some broken connections, I was just fixing them."

"Do you know what you have done, human?" D'Argo growled darkly.

He flinched at the way he said it. Weariness seeping into his voice as he tried to sound calm, soothing. His eyes were so sore. He tried not to rub them. "Saved you from doing a job you hate?"

D'Argo grabbed him and dragged him out of the conduit then slammed him into a bulkhead, his head snapping back and making contact. Lights flashed before his eyes. Dizzy but still conscious he found D'Argo's enraged face inches his own. "You have cracked at least three main soakaways one of which goes into my cell. Do you know what that means?"

He could not speak even if he wanted to. The hand round his throat was holding him a foot off the ground and pinning him to the wall of the ship. He tried not to pass out.

"I thought not." Growled D'Argo. "I will show you!"

He let go of Crichton then grabbed him up as he fell to the floor. Seemingly unconcerned about whether he had hurt him, D'Argo dragged the human back to his cell and shoved him inside. Crichton was tired, dizzy and more than a little pissed off but you did not say that to a Luxan in the throes of hyper rage. Especially when you were trying as hard as possible to gulp air into your flagging lungs while your head felt as if it were splitting in two.

Vaguely he was aware of being up to his knees in fluid. He thought it was water but to be honest he did not really care what it was. He wanted to throw up. D'Argo was yelling something at him. When he did not respond the Luxan threw him across the room and then he was under water again. This time taking in water and struggling not to choke. D'Argo yelled into his com. "Pilot!"

"Yes, Ka D'Argo?"

"My cell is full of water." He bellowed angrily.

"I'm sorry, Ka D'Argo but Moya is having difficulty releasing the valves to clear it. John was working on the problem..."

"Yes," Sneered D'Argo angrily. "And he is just making it worse."

"Actually the Commander has repaired all the broken connections very efficiently and within the arn Moya should be able to evacuate the excess water and amnexus fluid."

D'Argo grumbled something unintelligible and turned his head. Where the frell was the human now? He looked all around him but there was no sign of him. Then he saw the bubbles. Oh frell! Quickly he waded over and knelt down in the water feeling with his hands until he caught hold of Crichton. He pulled him up out of the water and was alarmed to see that the human was no longer conscious. His face was going an odd colour. His anger evaporated immediately. He began to feel alarmed. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Ka D'Argo."

"Ask Zhaan to meet me in the apothecary."

"Are you injured?"

The Luxan felt uncomfortable at the note of concern in Pilot's voice.
"No, but John is."

Zhaan was waiting when D'Argo got to the apothecary. Carefully D'Argo lowered the unconscious human on to a bed then hovered anxiously while Zhaan examined him. "Why does he not wake up, Zhaan?"

The Delvian P'au looked worried. "He appears to have ingested water into his lungs."

Just then Aeryn walked in. Her voice was sharp. "What happened?"

Zhaan began to explain. "John was fixing some broken connections for Moya and became injured while in the water. I think he may have water in his lungs."

Aeryn frowned. "Injured?"

Chiana and Rygel entered the apothecary just as D'Argo began to explain. "It was my fault, Aeryn. Water was coming into my cell and I blamed John."

"Yes but you are not responsible for his injuries, D'Argo." Said Zhaan.

D'Argo felt embarrassed. Ashamed. He dipped his head for a microt. "Um, I was very angry Zhaan. I went to find John and..."

Chiana tilted her face as sudden understanding turned her question into an accusation. "You went into hyper rage, didn't you?"

Anger began to fill him but Aeryn wanted answers. He could feel angry, guilty and sorry for himself later. "What did you do, D'Argo?"

"The same thing the bartantic Luxan always does!" Grumbled Rygel.

Aeryn glared at Rygel. "Shut up Rygel, we need to know what happened to John." She looked at D'Argo, her eyes demanding answers.

"I lost my temper, Aeryn." He looked down at Crichton and felt his two hearts contract. "I dragged him out of the conduit and rammed him against the wall then I took him to my cell to show him all the water..."

Zhaan's concern deepened. "D'Argo, was John still conscious when you got to your cell?"

"Yes."

"What happened then?" Asked Aeryn.

"I threw him across the room." He paused a microt, his voiced pained. "I did not mean to hurt him but I was angry. I took my eye off him and when I looked round I couldn't see him. It was only when I saw the bubbles that I realised he had sunk beneath the water..."

"You stupid frelling Luxan you could have killed him!" Spat Rygel.

D'Argo turned angrily on the Hynerian. "Have a care your lowness or I will rip you to pieces."

Chiana stepped quickly between them. "Hey! Nobody's ripping anyone to pieces, right? We're here to help John, okay? Yelling at each other won't help him."

The silence that followed was painful and strained. Aeryn's voice was small. "Will he be alright?"

Zhaan would not lie to her. "I do not know."

She rolled Crichton on to his side to see what injuries he might have on his back. The movement produced a deep groan. Then the human began to splutter and gag. Zhaan kept him on his side and rubbed his back to encourage him to vomit and clear his airway. "Get a bowl, Aeryn. Quick!"

Aeryn only just got the bowl in time. Once he was sick his eyes fluttered and closed again. He groaned softly then lost consciousness. Zhaan eased him gently on to his back and got a cloth to wash his face and neck. While he was unconscious she would see to the cut on the back of his head and tend any other physical injuries. With luck they would be mainly superficial. The most important thing was that he was breathing much easier now and his colour was returning. She looked up at the sea of anxious faces. "He needs to rest."

D'Argo hesitated. "He will recover?"

Zhaan smiled gently at him, knowing that D'Argo would never intentionally hurt Crichton. Sometimes he seemed to forget that he was not Luxan. "Yes."

* * * * *

Stark was happy. It had been painful leaving the others but he would be with Zhaan in less than a solar day. He could hardly wait to be reunited. He could still feel Bork's light dancing in his veins, the many voices harmonising into one. He was so intent on his memories that only the proximity alarm of his vessel warned him of the Command Carrier closing in on him. Panic siezed him.

"No, no, no, no, no! Not happening, no, can't be happening. Not Scorpius, can't be Scorpius!" He was rambling, his eye wide in alarm, his body reduced to a frantic racing heartbeat trying to get away. Trapped. Trapped. He could not outrun a Peace Keeper Command Carrier. Images from the past burned him. Torture. Pain. So much pain. Memories of his first enslavement. A child. He had been so young. Five cycles old and not yet bonded to the mask. The fire raged through his body, the torment unbearable but increased to force him into bondage. Pain. Lancing. Piercing. It took his right eye to make the connection pure. To drive all his images inward. Feeding on himself. Agony. Unbearable. Unending. They had tried to suffocate his memories. To stop him from seeing. From being what he was. The heat burning his flesh. The mind probe fragmenting everything he was. Precious treasures ripped from his mind but unable to touch the sacred places. So they had used the mask. Forged it along the contours of his face, blending steel and flesh and blood together. His torment and his prison. No escape. They used the things he loved to betray him.

He was crying now, muttering continually as if his words of denial could change fate. Knew what Scorpius wanted but he could not allow that to happen. Not only to protect Crichton but Zhaan. If Scorpius found out where Crichton was he would find the leviathan and everybody aboard her. No one would be safe. <No, no, no, no, no!> He could not let it happen. Not now. Not again.

* * * * *

Aeryn was amazed. She had expected Crichton to still be sleeping but he was not only awake but trying to get up. Zhaan saw Aeryn and smiled. Aeryn spoke to the P'au but she was looking at Crichton. "How is he?"

"Bruised, battered but he will recover."

Inclining her head gently she left to give them some privacy. Crichton looked at Aeryn, both mutually silent until the Delvian priestess had gone. Aeryn smiled and helped him to sit up. "How do you feel?"

"Apart from a King-sized headache and my whole body aching as if it's been in a meat grinder, I've never felt better."

"What did you say to get D'Argo so mad?"

He looked surprised. "What did I *say*? Aeryn, you know D'Argo." He chuckled lightly. "The last time he went into hyper rage I spent solar days hiding from him only to be nearly hugged to death when he found me."

Aeryn was amazed that he could joke about it. "I don't understand you, John. D'Argo almost killed you!"

He gave her a gentle look. "But he didn't. Aeryn. I'm okay."

"What about next time?"

"There won't be a next time. D'Argo didn't mean to hurt me. It was an accident."

She shook her head. Annoyed as much by Crichton's loyalty to D'Argo as her own anger at the Luxan. "It was *not* an accident, John, it was hyper rage."

"What do you want me to say, Aeryn? That I'll rip his head off and feed it to him for dinner? It was an accident and D'Argo feels bad enough about it. Punishing him won't help and it won't solve anything. I just want to forget it happened."

She noticed his face had gone ashen. He looked tired, worn out. Whatever he said he still had not fully recovered. She was not really angry at him. Her voice softened as her hand cradled the side of his face. "I don't want to lose you." She whispered softly.

He dazzled her with a smile. "You won't."

She kissed him then drew back, her look once more critical. "You look like dren."

"I feel like dren."

Aeryn wrinkled her nose. "You smell like it too."

"Thanks, Aeryn. I really needed that boost in confidence."

She laughed and made him lie back down. "Get some sleep then in the morning you can take a shower."

"Thanks, mom."

Aeryn turned to go.

"Aeryn?"

She looked back at him. "What?"

"Sit with me a while?"

Her smile was light and teasing but her eyes were soft with love. "Just until you fall asleep."

He nodded and took her hand in his. Content to have her close. It was enough and more than he could dream of. His eyes were so frelling heavy. She noticed and stroked his face with her free hand as he drifted off into a deep sleep. Her words so light he might have imagined them. "I love you, John Crichton."

* * * * *

He was in the chair. <Oh no, not the chair!> The grinning mask leered over him, enjoying the anticipation of his agony. "You know what I want, Stark. Just give me Crichton and you can go free."

"I don't know where he is!"

Pain leapt through his body, assaulted his senses, lit up the demonic screen that turned everything into a living nightmare. He tried to hang on, not to scream, but Scorpius kept piling on the power. He was being stretched, his deepest thoughts and memories buried. Hidden. Safe. His surface thoughts stripped and dismantled, his body peeling back in an horrific display of agony.

"Crichton! Where is Crichton?"

"I....don't...KNOW!"

Scorpius slid the handle down to the bottom of its' arc. The power faded away to nothing. The piercing agony stopped but the reverberations continued. He felt like a gong that had been struck so hard his whole body was still ringing with the blow. Scorpius walked slowly around the Aurora chair, watching Stark try to catch his breath. His chin reflecting the spittle under the harsh lights. Lt Braca stood just inside the door awaiting Scorpius's slightest command. Scorpius stepped up to the Banik, his hard cruel eyes drilling into him while his voice remained deceptively soft, cultured even. An oily evocation of purest evil.

"You would like the torture to stop wouldn't you, Stark?"

"I can't tell you anything."

Scorpius looked at him for a moment as if considering something. "Oh, but I think you can."

Then Scorpius looked passed him towards Lt Braca. An unreasoning fear began to sweep through Stark.

"What....what are you going to do?"

Scorpius smiled slightly then nodded towards Lt Braca who was now standing to his left, within a handspan of Stark's head. "You know Lt Braca?"

He was shaking now. Sure something terrible was going to happen. "Let me go, I can't tell you anything."

Scorpius leaned closer to him. "You hide behind that mask, Stark, but it can't save you now." He paused a microt. "Nothing can." His voice hardened. "Give me Crichton or I will drag the information out of you."

Even though he was trembling so hard he could not speak without his voice shaking, his determination did not waver. Zhaan. He had to protect Zhaan. "I don't know!"

Scorpius nodded then turned to Lt Braca. "Remove his mask."

Panic pure and primative swept through his body, mind and soul. They were going to emasculate him. Take from him the only thing left he had in this miserable excuse of an existance. As Braca's nimble fingers undid the straps of his mask, Stark screamed in a blaze of unfettered light.

* * * * *
END