Work Text:
Revealed
Author/pseudonym: Destina Fortunato
Email address: destinaf@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John Crichton/Stark
Date: 1/16/2000
Archive: yes
Series: no
Category: angst, vignette
Disclaimer: Belongs to someone else...
Summary: Stark muses about his life, and about Crichton
Warnings: Spoilers for "Nerve" and "Hidden Memory"
Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/destinaf
Revealed
By Destina Fortunato
I have never known what it is to be free. Not in the strictest sense, in the way others move through time and space without concern for capture or death. I was fated to be born a captive, enslaved because of my race, shunned by those I serve. Although I have had many masters, none have truly owned me; this is my one source of pride, my only consolation.
When I first came to this place, I withdrew inside my mind, taking all my memories deep into a place where they could not be retrieved. My people have a sacred history that must not be violated. I have fooled them with my shouting, with strange laughter and curses, and the frantic flailing of my arms.
But I have not fooled you.
Two cycles have passed since they made me a prisoner, locked me away from contact with the universe beyond this door, outside these walls. My people are dead, or scattered throughout the cosmos in far-away hiding places I will never see. There has been nothing to sustain me. No words of comfort, no distractions from the torture. They love to inflict pain. It pleases them to see me suffer. I have become accustomed to it now.
Your intrusion into my routine was unexpected. You threatened the order of things and caused disruption to my plan of escape. I knew it was foolish to believe in the device, but I had nothing else to cling to, until you came. Until I saw your need, and took you in my arms, holding you to my body, offering what little I possessed to ease your agony.
It is so much worse for you, Crichton. You pretend to be brave, and you laugh at their attempts to crush your mind, but there is despair in your eyes. I saw it myself, felt your pain as I stroked your hair. You shuddered in my arms, choking with fear and weakness, and tears of hurt and disbelief wet your face. My instinct was to soothe you, to show you the peaceful place within. A few thoughts, nothing more.
It has been so long since I touched another with kindness. I had nearly forgotten...
There was no reason to remove the mask. I could have given you everything you required without revealing my nature. It seemed the natural course of action, and I unbuckled the strap without a second thought, bringing what I am into view. I think I wanted you to know, to understand.
Your eyes told me all I wished to know as I moved into your mind, touching and retreating, leaving behind an image of bliss. It connected me to you in ways I could only dream, and I left those dreams with you, an impression of coupling among my people. Just a remnant of memory, to show you the ecstasy you will never know. I saw your understanding as the rapture claimed you. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a soft moan fell from your lips, pleasing me.
"What is that? What'd you just show me?" you gasped, and I had no answer for you which would be enough. I searched for words to tell you as you turned your face to see me. When your eyes met mine, I knew you thought me beautiful, that my light did not frighten you. I caught my breath, but the moment did not belong to me. It was something I gave to you, and I could not reclaim it.
I turned away from your scrutiny. Perhaps that was for the best.
Now I wonder if you understood what you saw. It was all I had to give, and it may have been too much. I have nothing more to offer, and there is only uncertainty for me. I will not give way, nor will I surrender. If the Peacekeepers try to take me again, I will die rather than return to slavery. There is precious little here to bind me, but I owe you my loyalty, and it is yours without question.
This first taste of life outside the box is sweet. Still, my thoughts have always been free, and what I know deep inside can never be taken from me. What I feel is mine alone, and cannot be touched.
For you, I would show my heart. But even outside the box, some dreams of freedom cannot be.
End
1/16/2000
destinaf@hotmail.com