Work Text:
Transformation
by Natalie Williams
This could not be happening.
That was what she had been telling herself since she saw the new skin growing on her abdomen. Skin that was not hers. Skin that was not even of her species.
She had never volunteered for this. All she wanted was to find somewhere that she would belong. So she wouldn't be alone.
Instead, Namtar had betrayed her. He had violated her. What he had done to her was cruel, and it was sick, and wrong, and there was nothing she could do about it. At least not on her own. She had tried that already. She wasn't in any shape to take on Namtar.
Too many thoughts.
She could feel everything that was happening on Moya. No, not on Moya. To Moya. She could sense the Leviathan's thoughts, her feelings, and Pilot's.
She liked Pilot. But she didn't want to be him.
What was she becoming? She was transforming. When this was over, she wasn't even going to be herself anymore. That was obvious. Look at what had already happened to her. Namtar hadn't just changed her body, he was changing her mind. He was changing her.
And she was helpless against him. She was his experiment. A work in progress that could do nothing to stop him.
The thought of turning to Zhaan or D'Argo for help never even entered her mind. They were too crazed, too selfish to help her, to even give her a second thought. Rygel wasn't even an option normally, let alone now.
This was becoming too painful. Much more than she could handle. It was like she was overloading...
So who did that leave her with? Pilot. He would understand. He couldn't see her as a monster. Maybe he couldn’t help her, but...
Crichton? No, she couldn't even think about that. Not that she could really think about anything.
She was terrified to let him see her like this. Her skin changing. Another arm growing in through her stomach. A hand that easily matched Pilot's.
He had helped her in the past, though. He did care at least enough to help her. Or maybe he would take one look at her and head in the other direction.
She had to stop thinking. She had to. There were enough thoughts running through her without her own adding to the pressure building on her mind.
No, Pilot *could* help her. He was used to this. He could tell her what to do. He could do something to assist her, at least in knowing what was coming.
She hadn't realized it was possible for her brain to actually *hurt.*
Crichton may have seen concerned back- Wait, she had already dismissed him from her thoughts. No. She would worry about him later. Right now she just wanted to find a way to stop this. To stop the hurting, even if she couldn't stop the conversion to an entirely other species.
Too much thinking. She had to stop. But how was she even supposed to do that?
She had to go see Pilot. She had to get her feet moving to see Pilot. It almost felt as if she couldn't even control her own body anymore. Too many synapses were going off in her head...
Okay. She was moving. Slowly, she realized, but she was going.
Strange. She could sense everything wrong with the ship. Everything right. With Moya, with the DRD's... It felt incredible, and overwhelming, but it wasn't at all right.
This was not supposed to be happening. Not to her. Not to anyone. She was never meant to handle this. She was never supposed to have to handle this,
She didn't care. She just wanted to stop this. Somehow.
She *had* to stop this.
END