Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 30 of The Switch
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
3,471
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
6
Hits:
911

The Switch 30: A Rumour Of Angels

Summary:

FANDOM: "Farscape"
PAIRING: JOHN/D'ARGO
RATING: NC-17
STATUS: New.
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed
SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "INBETWEEN"
SUMMARY: "With Crichton so near to death, forces are gathering with the promise of war."
The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Submitted through the AdultFarscape and Makebelieve_YG mailing list.

Work Text:

The Switch 30: A Rumour Of Angels
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Crais could not believe it. They were receiving another message. Aeryn frowned. "Are you sure, Crais? It could be a trap."

He shook his head. "No, no Aeryn, if you had heard the first message you would understand."

"What does it say?"

For a moment Crais did not answer. He tilted his head back, listening via the neural transponder. The expression on his face made Aeryn take a step towards him.

"Crais? What is happening?"

He looked at her, stunned. "The droid says we must hurry. They are about to execute his mistress."

Aeryn shook her head. What dren was this? "His mistress?"

He nodded. "Yes. The Empress Novia."

She caught her breath. It could not be. "From the Royal Planet?"

"The very same."

"I don't understand."

"It seems the droid has been acting under her aegis, that and the resistance movement she has been helping."

Aeryn shook her head. "What does this have to do with John?"

"I was coming to that. The resistance movement is intelligence driven. They are attempting to subvert the Scarran plans and prevent them from obtaining wormhole technology..."

"What about John? Does the droid know where he is? Is he alright?"

"Yes. John is still aboard the vessel but he has been tortured." Crais paused. "It does not sound good, Aeryn."

Fire smouldered in eyes as black as coal. She spoke with the promise of death on her lips to any who opposed her. "Then what are we still doing here?"

"Aeryn, we cannot rush in blindly..."

Sparks flew from her eyes as she glared at him. "And *I* cannot stand idly by while John is tortured to death!"

* * * * *

The cell door was slowly opened. Empress Novia stood well back, courting the shadows and wary of anything that moved in the light. Slowly the figure revealed itself. A smile crept over the Empress's face and without a backward glance she exited her erstwhile prison oblivious to the periodic explosions of proximity mines rocking the superstructure.

* * * * *

He lay twitching involuntarily, pain his most constant companion. Mind detached and drifting. Tentative thoughts tried to throw him a lifeline, find something to hold on to so that they could find him but there was nothing to gain a purchase on. His mind was agony, his thoughts a smear in the cerebal cortex. The diagnosan was nowhere to be seen. His station post was empty. The metal frame tilted and open where he had released the human. The pitiful mess that lay upon the floor was going nowhere. Was no threat. Was not even conscious any more.

She watched from her vantage point and hesitated. He was hardly worth saving now but still felt she owed him. About to move from her position in the ductwork above him she suddenly froze. Someone was coming. The door opened and the diagnosan returned, knelt next to the quivering body. For a moment she could not see what he was doing then she saw the phial. An aparatus with a needle attached and an attenuation tube. What was this? More torture? Had he not suffered enough? Anger overcame any tiny voice of reason still crouched inside her mind. The panel swung down with a clatter and as the diagnosan's head rose she launched herself with furious venom into his dark mass. The kick snapped the diagnosan's head back, the tube in his hands dislodged and sliding across the floor away from him. He still had the needle. Still had the phial. Alarm registered in his eyes, not at the attack but because his precious instrument had fallen out of his grasp. She moved to finish him off with an assassin's grace but he made no move to defend himself. He was distracted, distressed.

"You fool! You do not underssstand. I was not trying to kill him."

She did not believe him. Another kick forced the diagnosan back a step. He could have snapped her neck with ease or flayed and roasted her flesh off her bones with his very breath but he did neither. She paused. Information was the currency of power not brute force. Only the morally bankrupt did not know the difference. "Explain, and quickly!"

The diagnosan tilted his head at her, his beady black eyes flicking down to the unconscious human. "I am trying to stablise his condition."

"Why? You were torturing him, killing him, why help him now?"

Just then another, darker voice interjected and shadows broke off from the far side of the room coalescing into two large Scarran males. "Who sayssss we are helping him?"

She spun round, realising her error too late. She put up a good fight considering, but it was one she was never going to win. Renik let her attack, the commander looking on and merely blocking her route to the door. The diagnosan quickly retrieved the tube and reconnected his apparatus then carefully started to insert the thick needle into the side of Crichton's neck. As if suddenly tiring of the game, Renik almost casually raised a clawed hand and snapped her neck. She fell like a pile of rags and received no further notice from any of the them. The commander watched the diagnosan work for a microt. "Will he live?"

The diagnosan was pumping some dark fluid into Crichton. The twitching in the body was becoming less pronounced. He could almost believe the human was able to hide from the pain in sleep but he doubted that sanctuary was open to him. Too much had been done to him. Too many violations to heal with a touch that was too little and came too late. "For a time."

"How long?"

The diagnosan shrugged. "Four maybe five arns."

"Then wake him. We do not have much time."

Another small explosion rocked the huge ship slightly as if in punctuation. They wanted to put him back in the frame but the diagnosan knew he would not survive an arn if they did that.

"Then what do you suggesst?" Intoned the commander, his words sounding more like a hissed threat that a question.

"Waking will be pain enough. These beings are not like us, excellency. They are not fortunate enough to have been created Scarrans."

It must have been the right answer because Selcrak threw back his black chitinous head and laughed, his breath warping the air with heat. "Very well, diagnosan. Rouse him."

* * * * *

Zhaan could not hold back her joy. Her pleasure at Stark's unexpected return. As soon as he stepped off the transport she embraced him. Chiana was impatient, wanted to get back to Rygel and the baby. D'Argo decided actions spoke louder than words and put an arm around Zhaan and Stark, propelling them away from the transport while he began to explain everything that had happened to Stark. Stark stopped suddenly. Looked at his friends then his eye settled on Zhaan's face. A hand gently rose to touch and caress her face as she leaned in happily to his touch.

"I did not come alone."

A wave of alarm shot through them all. D'Argo raised his qualta blade. Stark touched the blade with his hand, his look gentle, his voice soft. "They will not harm you."

Chiana tilted her head, as wary as D'Argo but curious. "They?"

Stark smiled, his look becoming radiant. He looked back at the craft but did not say anything. As they watched three figures stepped out of it. Two males and a female. Chiana gasped. Zhaan's mouth dropped open in surprise. D'Argo was speechless. Zhaan's surprise turned to joy. Joy for Stark. "You found them?"

He was smiling gently, lovingingly. "Yes, Zhaan." His beautiful smile was tinged now with pain. A lost look in his eye as he remembered. "We lost so many...so many..."

She touched the half of his face not obscured by his mask, his pain hurting her. He pushed the pain back and took Zhaan's hands in his to introduce her to them. "This is Heronn, Alphia, and Bork."

Heronn and Alphia both had masks like Stark, but Bork had none. His face was whole and sad and handsome but in an other worldly way, as if he was not completely present among them. If they stared at him too hard the edges of his outline became blurred but if they looked away at the others and saw him only from the corner of their eyes his image was as focused as any other. Chiana eyed him with open curiosity. "Hey, Bork! You're not like the others are you?"

Zhaan flashed her a look of irritated alarm, not wanting to offend Stark's people. "I'm sorry, she meant no offense..."

Bork smiled gently and looked at Chiana. Amused. "No little one, I am not like the others. I come from beyond to see what is at hand. I am the Guide."

Chiana tilted her head the other way as if this would aid her understanding. "Guide? You mean like the transport's pilot?"

He laughed, a light musical sound that was joy to the ear. "No, not that kind of Guide."

Before she could ask another question, D'Argo was propelling her forward and the group left the transport bay. Zhaan was curious but content to wait for Stark to explain. She walked beside him, her arm linked in his, their heads touching as they walked, for a moment both lost in their reunion. A look of bliss on their faces. Heronn and Alphia exchanged a small smile then their faces became blank. Calm pools waiting for the stone that would send ripples dancing across their still waters. When they saw the Hynerian still deep in trance and then gazed upon the child, all focus shifted. Stark gently moved away from Zhaan to place a hand on the Hynerian's head. He closed his eye a microt, Bork standing close to his side but not touching either Stark, Rygel or the baby. His eyes were calm, his face almost glowing. Chiana wondered what he was and whether he was real. D'Argo could feel his impatience growing but a gentle touch from Zhaan was oddly reassuring.

Stark flowed along the connection Rygel and Rion were gripping with such tenacity. It was growing fainter but he had no trouble adding his strength to theirs. His presence fed them hope, they became aware of him though they could not touch him with their thoughts or the link would have shattered. Stark knew that and continued down the link until he found Crichton. His heart faltered, his breath a ragged shock of emotion that drew Bork into the link. The warm presence helped Stark to recover, the two of them entering the frail human's mind and cradling him with their gentle light. He moaned, the soft stirring of pain revisited. The agony of tortured veins and arteries struggling to keep blood pumping while the heart flagged against impossible odds. Stark reached out with such love, such tenderness, shoring up the body while Bork repaired the spirit. His soul momentarily merging with that of the human. They were aware of dark shades around them and Stark knew they had to be careful. Crichton's enemies were present, they were implaccable and the life of one single human meant nothing to them beyond the power they could wring from his knowledge. Knowledge they sought to wreast from him with brute force. Knowledge that would forever be out of their reach. He prayed they would not realise the inevitable before he and Bork had time to help Crichton.

* * * * *

Aeryn was about to demand that Crais order Talyn to go after the Scarran vessel when they became aware of a transport pod approaching Moya. "What is that?"

"That," said Crais cautiously, "Is a transport pod."

The irritation in Aeryn's voice was dipped deep in sarcasm. "I can see that Crais! What I meant is whose transport pod is it? I do not know this design."

Crais took a moment, checking Talyn's data base. "Nor do I. Talyn is not sure but thinks he has seen the design before."

"And?"

"He is trying to access the memory."

She felt impatience knocking hard at the door. "Is it friend or foe?"

Crais divided his attention between what Talyn was telling him through the neural transponder and what he could see on the screen. He frowned slightly. "Friend. Or at least, not an enemy."

"You don't sound very sure."

"Moya has allowed it to land and..." He broke off suddenly and looked straight at Aeryn. "It's Stark."

"What? What is Stark doing here?" The unspoken question she would not voice was, how had he known? There were still things about the Banik she did not understand. She wondered whether Zhaan had contacted him and if so what she thought he could do. She had to admit to herself in an emergency Stark was the last person she would call. But she was not Zhaan. Then Aeryn had another less welcoming thought, remembering that Stark was drawn to people as they approached death. His compassion and desire to help them pass over riding any other consideration. Her heart fluttered painfully at the thought. She prayed some other reason had brought him here.

Crais looked at her with concern. "Aeryn, are you alright?"

She came out of her unwelcome reverie. "Yes. Yes. I was just surprised, that's all."

His frown deepened but he did not question her. Why would Stark's presence be a cause of alarm to her? What was Aeryn Sun not telling him?

* * * * *

When Selcrak heard the agonised groan, he indicated for them to lift him off the floor and lay him on a table. He did not want to have to crouch on the floor to hear the words they forced from the human as he lay dying. He sensed they were close, so close. Something akin to excitement skittered through him, his dark eyes glittering with cruel anticipation. He looked at the diagnosan and nodded. The diagnosan attached the tube to the back of the syringe which was still impaled in the side of Crichton's neck. He then clipped on the phial and released the drug into the human's system, the route to the artery kept open by the needle. He was cautious enough not to insert all of the drug at once, knowing how weak the human was. If he died now the commander would most certainly kill him as well.

Crichton felt something. He was not sure what it was. A dense whitish grey fog obscured his vision. He had no idea where the hell he was or what was happening to him. Then he heard a voice he knew.

Why don't you just tell them what they want to know?

The voice surprised him. Dad? What're you doing here?

Trying to avert a tragedy

That was almost funny except it hurt too much. Some wounds were closer to the heart that others. What's happening to me, Dad?

You're dying

No, *how are you son, I've missed you*. Dying?

Another voice now, another presence. Don't you remember, John?

DK?

DK chuckled but the humour sounded brittle. Forced. As if he was upset. Just tell them what they want to know John then we can get out of here

Tell who what?

His Dad spoke again. The Scarrans. They want the wormhole technology

I can't give it to them, Dad. It's in my head but I didn't put it there and I don't know how to access it. Even if I wanted to I couldn't

Then you'll die for nothing

Something stung him, jolting his thoughts into sharper focus. You're not my father

Now John...

No! This is a trap. They're messing with my mind

The images and voices faded. Pain flooded his senses. On the table his back arched up in agony, Renik dragging a sharp claw down the side of the oblivious human's face and watching fascinated as a thin red line appeared down his cheek. He reacted unknowingly to the Scarran's touch. The drug was working deeper, divorcing him from reality while heightening his sensitivity to pain. He could not wake up but neither could he sleep. They had caught him in some netherworld where the only thing that lived and breathed was agony. Every image was a lie. Every touch nailed him harder to the cross.

*Don't panic, John* Said a smooth cultured voice. *I said I would come for you*

He ached with so much pain, so much torment stripped his mind into ribbons of broken dreams. Everything hurt him but this memory most of all. Sailing on a river of blood. Get out of my head, Scorpy

*I can't do that, John. I've really become quite fond of you*

Screw you, leather face. Go torture someone else!

The image of Scorpius laughed and gradually faded, the image disappearing in the fog. His mouth fell slack. He felt something like electricity burning slowing up through his veins and wondered what the hell they were doing to him now. He would have struggled and fought it but he could not be bothered. He was dying so what was the point? They should get it over with. But part of him could not give up. Would not give up. As the realisation hit him something else slowly seeped through his faltering consciousness. A beautiful warm yellow light gradually stole through his veins and cauterised the pain, washing out the poison of the psychotropic drugs, gradually clearing his mind and easing his agony with little warm washes of a love so deep he would happily drown in it. That touch, he recognised it. Could not form the name in his mind, words momentarily lost to him but the joy slowly lifting him from the abyss and bathing him in gentle light. He burned with the need for it to be true as the memory dropped into place. Stark?

He felt the love deepen, so gentle that it drew tears from his soul and washed him. He felt Stark touch his mind, his loving presence filling him and blinding him to everything else. The merging was not as intense as his Unity with Zhaan but it went deeper, touched him on so many levels. Took him apart cell by cell, atom by atom, sub atomic particle by sub atomic particle and every tiny mote of his being was clensing and washed and bathed in love. He sighed into that other worldy caress, his heart opening to receive the gift that would heal him. That would make him whole. Felt Stark's lips on his, the touch drawing him into a kiss that merged flesh and spirit and tormented soul. Light bound them, joined them, heightened their sense of each other as they kissed, two souls twining in a bond made in Heaven and parted in Hell. He drank in Stark's every touch, soared on his breath and joyed in the strong beat of his passionate heart. Fingers touched him, drew warmth and comfort over every inch of his bruised and battered flesh. The tongue that tasted his was driving him crazy with a slowly rising desire, a passion that made him feel more vibrant and alive than any other he had ever known. Or so it seemed. He wanted to draw Stark to him, absorb him through the very pores of his skin, drown in his presence, merge with him until he became particles of light that sang and vibrated to this man's touch. A song of the divine, lifted so far above the dark tortured fate of this violent universe that the two could not coexist even in the far reaches of the most warped imagination. Stark. God, Stark, I've missed you so much my friend

The kiss deepened in his soul until it encompassed everything he was, had been and could ever be. As the love deepened and carried him with it, he responded with every last atom of his strength, his emotional centre craving the touch that now caressed him on inumberable levels. As he gave himself up completely to the love he merged with Stark and exploded into a passion of light. Impossibly, his tears of joy were dried by the beat of angel's wings...

END

Series this work belongs to: