TITLE: "BACK TO THE CRADLE"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/STARK

RATING: NC-17

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "MOYA KNOWS BEST"

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

SUMMARY: "With the crew of Moya unable to come up with a plan, Zhaan takes the iniative."

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

"BACK TO THE CRADLE"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

They quarrelled for arns. Each time one of them came up with a plan the others tore it to pieces. Zhaan was beginning to feel they were getting nowhere fast and time was running out. Rygel harumphed and proclaimed the only sensible solution. "We have to Star Burst out of here while we still can!"

D'Argo shook his head. "We cannot do that. Not until we get the masks."

"And how do you intend to do that, Luxan? You can't even think of a plan or do you simply expect to ask Scorpius to hand them over?"

"Perhaps," Growled D'Argo in a dangerously low voice. "Or perhaps I will just exchange a skinned and inconsequential Hynerian wind-bag!"

"Wouldn't work." Said Chiana mildly, eyes sparkling with mischief and only half-serious. "Who'd want him?"

D'Argo laughed. Rygel glowered at her. Zhaan interrupted before they could start another round of insults. "I agree with Rygel."

Everyone looked at her, stunned. Aeryn had been so quiet that Chiana felt uncomfortable. She wondered what was going through the Sebacean's mind. When Aeryn did not react to Zhaan's announcement, Chiana only felt more unsettled. D'Argo looked at Zhaan in surprise.

"I thought you said we could not leave without recovering those masks?"

She inclined her head gracefully. Her expression was sad but firm. "Yes. And ideally we must at least recover Stark's mask if not the others but we must also be practical. I have heard nothing that leads me to believe than we can come up with a successful plan, yet the longer we remain here the more likely we are to become the hunted not the hunter. As Rygel says we need to get away from here, as far and as fast as we can!"

Rygel straightened in his throne sled, a smug look of superiority on his face. "I said you should have listened to me."

Chiana frowned at him. "Shut it toad or I'll shut your wakket hole for you."

"Tough words, girlie, but they won't do you any good."

He eased his throne sled back out of reach just in case. Still Aeryn said nothing. Her eyes were dark, almost bleak, with a hint of something waiting coiled in their depths. Chiana had seen that look before. Zhaan looked from one face to another seeking a consensus. "Are we agreed?"

At last Aeryn spoke. "Where will we go?"

Zhaan smiled slightly. "The last place Scorpius will dream of looking for us."

* * * * *

A deadly hush fell over the crew of the Peace Keeper Command Carrier. Scorpius looked at the screen in silence. When he looked up he was not happy. "Follow the leviathan. As soon as we are within range you are to target her engines and disable her, is that clear?"

In silence the Command Carrier followed its' prey. Scorpius leaned back in his red chair, deep in thought. It was time to put aside his fascination for the masks and return to his primary objective. John Crichton.

* * * * *

Lt Braca lay in the medlab trying to still the panic from overwhelming him. He had thought there was no more frightening, no more terrifying being in all the Uncharted Territories than the half-breed abomination he was pledged to serve. The mask had shown him differently. Had shown him choices that struck both fear and awe in him. In equal measure. Made him tremble with horror yet ache with a desire that unsettled him even more than his fear. He did not understand and that was the crux of the matter. He could feel the light pulsate against his covered face. The stirring energy that seeped and flowed through every microdench of skin that the mask touched. Tingling as it gently hummed through the rest of his body. Vibrant. Alive. *Conscious*. It felt as if it were wedding with his own cells, moulding itself to his DNA, infiltrating his brain cells and insinuating its' rhythm in his heart and mind. He had no words to describe how much it creeped him out but now that he was beyond the initial terror he began to notice other qualities about it. A kind of exotic beauty that acted as a neural tranquilizer to his unreasoned fears. An agent of calm in his ocean of chaos. He felt his resistance disolve before it leaving behind an unexpected freedom. Wonder seeping through his thoughts, touching him with a tentative urge to know more. To understand. Not just what it was doing to him but what it *was*.

As he thought about it the sensation grew, not quickly, not in a way that burned like before. This time the amplification was subtle, gentle. Going at a pace he set. So that he could absorb what he needed to know. Adjust without rejecting an offer he did not know how to refuse. What made him think that? Where did that thought come from? Was it his or the mask? Did it even matter? The medtechs hovered a little longer, checking and rechecking his vital signs. Pleased that he had become much calmer. They gave him a sedative then left him, dimming the lights so he could sleep. Rest. Ah yes. Rest would solve everything. He listened as their steps vanished in the closing of the door. Waited a few microts. His thoughts turned inwards, concentrating on what the light had to show him. He did not want to lose consciousness yet, did not want to surrender to oblivion and miss this most important of lessons. The light responded to his wish, he saw with an inward eye and followed the path of the sedative. Saw it reduced to its' component parts, the way the light filtered through it and neutralised it while he watched. Amazing. It could do that? What else could it do? Could it protect him from poisoning? Heal wounds? Excitement began to pulse in him, endless possibilites opening up before him. The light responded and increased its' energy level to carry him. He felt exhilerated. Energised. No longer afraid. Reborn. A slow gentle voice washed through his eager mind. <Be careful. You are in danger if you do not hide your knowledge>

Why? Why was he in danger and from whom? Scorpius? Yes, definitely Scorpius. Who else? High Command? Who? <Everyone> The mask responded. The thought lapping his mind in gentle response, the echo of it transmitting a desire to protect him. Guide him. <If you listen you will survive and so will we> His heart almost stopped at the implication. He felt suddenly weak. Reminding him he was not alone. We? <Yes. We> For a long time he could not form a single coherent thought. He was in shock. Gently the light nudged his senses, seeking a response. <Surely you did not think you were alone?> What did he think? He did not know any more. A thought occurred to him. How many are you? <We are legion. We are numbered in thousands. We will teach you our song and hold you in our memories until we can find the one who is lost>. The one who is lost? He did not ask who that was. He knew. They were talking about the Banik. About Stark. He could not articulate even in his mind the sudden sense of loss. The grief. The knowledge that what he had was borrowed, never his.

* * * * *

He was dreaming. He had to be. The stir of echoes in his head seemed to be laughing at him but not in a cruel way. No. Never that. He felt an ancient calm rest in his heart soothing him. Zhaan. Her gift. How well he knew her. Recognised her touch even in her physical absence. Then he felt Stark smiling in his heart. A light beyond joy. It encompassed so much. It felt strange. Did wonderful things to him just knowing he was there. The two of them together in a way which made him feel cherished, blessed and awed while still retaining something of an individual presence. Was that neat or what? The key was love. The kind of unfettered passion of the heart that encompassed no jealousy, no sin, no desire to dominate another. The kind of love that was free flowing, all encompassing. A healing warmth of the heart. A passion of souls. An enlightenment of being that was conscious. That knew and responded to *him*. Just how weird was that? It had never been like this when he had eaten the morna on the cemetery planet. This went well beyond three lobes of the mushroom. The drugs of his homeworld had nothing on this. He laughed inside his brain and felt Stark's gentle touch calming the edge of his madness.

Was that what he was? Mad?

<No, John> Stark's thoughts touched his own. <You are not mad and neither am I>

<Oh yeah, buddy> He responded with light sarcasm. <That's a *ringing* endorsement>

He felt the Banik's humour, a wash of affection that he absorbed with joy. His body sighed as his heart opened. Zhaan was present but a background perfume, an essence that cradled him with distant arms. Stark was a deep and vibrant presence. He was the electricity that charged his cells. The movement of his emotions rose and fell to the pulse of the Banik's light like another heartbeat. One he cherished as much as his own. Crichton worried about him. Fretted that they would not find the mask in time. That his friend would die before he could save him. Tears fell in his heart. Stark comforted him while Zhaan watched over them. A silent protector.

<It should be me comforting you, Stark>

<Sssh, you are upset>

<Aren't you?>

A pause. A microt's grace in which to think an individual thought. <Now there's a true gift> mused Crichton.

<I was upset at first> Admitted Stark. Phantom hands brushing over him, such light touches warming his skin, delving into parts of him that had lain forgotten in the shadows. Now opened to a different kind of light. One that dazzled the sun of countless worlds and left the void a better place. <But then you offered to carry me>

He felt, sensed, *knew* the depth of emotion that one simple act had sparked in his friend. It moved him deeply. <Hey, it was the least I could do>

<No> Said Stark slowly, his phantom lips now caressing his. Such a gentle kiss leaving him wanting more as he savoured the sweetness of his breath. <You took a leap of faith, John. Faith in me>

<I love you, buddy. You're my friend. What was I supposed to do? Hold your hand as you lay dying? I'm not a *last rites* kind of guy. I prefer to love the living if you catch my drift>

He felt Stark smile, it curved all the walls of his heart and touched him heart, mind and soul with a tenderness that made his heart sing. Stark picked up the thought, amplified it a thousand-fold and embraced him in his song. The kiss deepened, their souls taking flight in the endless limitless confines of a human heart. Unnoticed by either of them, the piece of Zhaan that he carried within him withdrew her presence, sensing it was needed elsewhere. Crichton felt as if he was falling from immeasurable heights. No fear only the exhileration of trusting someone so completely not even death could harm him.

<How the hezmana do you do that to me, Stark?>

The lips burned a trail down the column of his throat, leaving his own lips grieving their loss. He loved the way Stark loved him. When they were together like this it was like watching the birth of Creation. Being the Universe as it exploded into life. Every piece of mirrored dust shone with Stark's light. Every baby's smile had found its' echo in his friend's smile. All love became one love, all desire a blind need to return to those roots, find the essence of being that was only expressed in Creation. How the hell did that work? He did not care just so long as it did. Part of him flowed in the exploring touch so gently devouring him. He ached, he longed to merge with the Banik, to be immolated by his fire and uplifted by his song. His body burned electric, his soul sang with the essence of the divine. Heat rose and soared in his loins, his mind on fire, his senses exploding. Light drove him, guided him, filled him, and washed him clean again. No harsh abrasive action of physicality delineated the feelings written in his heart. The subtle love of the Banik was beyond mortal comprehension, experienced only in the hush of two beating hearts when finally. Eventually. Blissfully. They merged to beat as one.

* * * * *

Aeryn was annoyed. Her anger rising exponentially as she paced back and forth while Zhaan guided Pilot. She did not interrupt. Did not say anything. Yet the tension rising was palpable. Chiana had felt it first and feared for the Delvian P'au. It seemed to her Nebari eye that Aeryn was going into what Crichton called her *Peace Keeper kiss-ass mode*. Whatever it was it would not be pretty.

Satisfied that Pilot would not deviate from the course set him Zhaan turned and affected to notice Aeryn. She gave a serene smile. Aeryn immediately stopped pacing. Her shoulders bunched, her hands clenched into fists that whitened her knuckles. Zhaan ignored the tension. Her voice mild, her look kindly, her eyes seeing right into the troubled heart of the Sebacean. "Aeryn, you wanted to say something?"

"Where is John? What have you done to him?"

"As I have said, John is safe. I have done nothing to him."

Aeryn crossed her arms. "I want to see him."

"That would not be a good idea right now, Aeryn."

"Why not?"

Zhaan sighed. "He is resting."

The Sebacean's look darkened. "I want to see him NOW. Not later. Not in another solar day's time. Not when YOU decide it is convenient. NOW means at this microt, Zhaan."

Zhaan tilted her head. There was something in the depths of her eyes that would have warned Chiana off. Even D'Argo would have modified his stance. But Aeryn was containing a fury that went beyond reason. She had not seen Crichton for arns. No one had. And just knowing that Zhaan knew and would not tell her, would keep her from him, lit a rage inside her that was threatening to fly out of control. What Zhaan said next surprised them all. "Aeryn, do you trust me?"

Aeryn blinked. "What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one."

Aeryn snorted softly. "None of your questions are simple, Zhaan."

A couple of microts passed. Aeryn's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know if I trust you?"

"Because that seems to be the crux of our problem."

"Our problem?" Sneered Aeryn. "Your problem Zhaan not mine."

"Then you do not trust me?"

Aeryn paused a microt. Not sure where this was leading. "I trust John."

"And John trusts me, Aeryn."

"John trusts everybody."

The Delvian P'au nodded gently. "Yes. That is his great strength."

"It is his weakness."

The P'au looked at Aeryn for a few microts then seemed to reach a decision. "Come with me, Aeryn."

"Where are we going?"

Zhaan paused alongside her. "To answer your question."

* * * * *

Scorpius stood over Lt Braca when he woke. A shudder wracked through him as if a great darkness had just blotted out the sun. Within him, the light soothed him. Gentle. Subtle. A warning.

"How do you feel, Lt?"

"Better, thank you sir."

His throat felt dry. Scratchy. He sat up slowly. He did not like the feeling of vulnerability he got when lying down in the presence of Scorpius.

"I have been thinking." Said the half-breed slowly, a look in his eyes that froze Lt Braca's blood with a dread anticipation. "The mask has caused you so much pain." He broke off a microt to watch his reaction. "We should remove it. If it will not come off willingly we will take it off by force."

Panic swept through Lt Braca like an avalanche. The light flooded him with such intensity it robbed him of breath in order to keep his heart beating. To dampen down the wall of panic before it could do irreparable harm. Not to Lt Braca but to them. Only the taint of the dark shade could dim their light.

Scorpius's eyes narrowed and he leaned a little closer. "You do not seem to approve of this action?"

Lt Braca swallowed. How much to say? What to tell him? <Just tell him you are frightened. You have already tried to remove the mask and failed. Tell him about the pain> "I'm frightened, sir. Afraid." He wet his lips with genuine nervousness. "The mask won't come off and it hurts. For now the pain has subsided."

"I am sure my technicians can give you something to ease any pain."

"No, no, no! The pain, I couldn't bear it!"

Scorpius looked at him for a few microts. "Curious. A few arns ago you begged me to take it off, now you beg me to leave it in place. Which is it to be, I wonder?"

Lt Braca said nothing. He was perspiring so heavily now, his chest heaving, his breath ragged. The light was a subtle force within him. The only thing holding him together. Did Scorpius know? Could he see how deep the light had penetrated? How even now he listened to its' siren song? Desired nothing more than to find the Banik, to give it what it wanted? Not because he cared about Stark. He didn't. Not because he wanted to do the right thing. That was never an issue. But because some small tiny part of him hoped, believed, desired to earn something back in return. A touch. A shared sensation. Movement of heat and light. A selfless love that would infiltrate and uplift every cell in his body and ask nothing in return. Just for a precious microt. A single arn. He wanted to be loved without being judged. To be found worthy. Tears pricked his eyes and he closed them quickly. Scorpius noticed he was getting emotionally upset and wondered at it. He placed a finger on the mask exploring the metal outline of another face. Lt Braca hid the shudder that quaked inside him. Inwardly recoiling from the touch. He dared a question. Anything to stop Scorpius touching him. Touching the mask.

"What will you do, sir?"

Scorpius considered him. "I will leave the mask for now. But know this. I will find a way to remove it and I will discover its' secrets."

As Scorpius walked out of the medlab, Lt Braca listened to the fading echo of his footsteps and heard the unspoken threat left hanging in the air behind him. *With or without your help*.

* * * * *

Aeryn was surprised to be led into Zhaan's quarters. She was in no mood for a lecture but Zhaan had no intention of doing any such thing. Aeryn watched her light her incense and pass her hands in front of her face in respect to her Goddess, Kah'leen. Zhaan turned to face her. "Aeryn, I do not know *exactly* where John is on the ship and I have not asked."

The Sebacean frowned but Zhaan held up a hand to forstall any outburst. "Please, let me finish Aeryn. As you know I have shared Unity with John." The P'au felt Aeryn stiffen. Ah. That was the seat of the problem was it? Jealously. She had suspected as much. "Moya has taken the unusual step of trying to protect John from his own selfless nature. The propensity he has for putting himself in danger for others."

"I would not have let him go alone. You know that. Neither would D'Argo."

"But he would still have gone?"

Aeryn nodded reluctantly. Yes. He would still have gone. That was what was so infuriating about him. They wanted to protect him, keep him safe. Yet time and time again, John Crichton was his own worst enemy.

"It is different this time, Aeryn." Said Zhaan softly.

The Sebacean jerked her head suddenly as if she had been struck. "Different? How?"

"This time he carries the essence of Stark with him."

The shock on Aeryn's face drained all the colour from her. Zhaan guided her to the simple altar and eased her into a sitting position on one of the cushions she used for prayer. Zhaan gently cupped Aeryn's left cheek in her right palm. Her look so wise, so gentle, so knowing. "I think, Aeryn, you will understand better if I show you."

* * * * *
END