TITLE: "NOT NEGOTIABLE"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/CRAIS series

RATING: PG-13.

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "UNBEARABLE TRUTHS"

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

"NOT NEGOTIABLE"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Captain Mirkot felt groggy. He felt like trat. Probably looked like it too. For some reason everyone was treating him with the greatest of care and consideration. Funny. No one had ever done that before. Before. Before what? He tried to think but his brain felt like it was in cryostatis
and he had been denied access. He closed his eyes, surprised into opening them again when a hand touched his face. Alarmed, he tried to move back but his body still would not obey him. He felt kind of numb but also hypersensitive too, as if he was picking up the impulses of his five senses before they actually kicked in. Like an odd kind of extended radar. An early warning
system whose controls he had no access to. An automotive response. Yet how was that possible? As he woke properly his strength began to return to him along with his memories and normal motor functions.

"Sir! I'm sorry to wake you sir but the Scarran Commander is asking to see you."

What in hezmana did Raknor want with him now? He was tempted to tell him to go frell himself but knew that would be the single most frodank thing he could do right now. He had been charged with a mission so sensitive, so critical, that even a small error in judgement could wipe all their gains off the map. He knew what was at stake and if he had to suffer closer ties to the Scarrans to do it he would do it. But he hated the price.

"Very well, Plessy. Help me dress."

Plessy tried not to show his distaste for the chore. The scars on his Captain's body were still tender, their raw passage trailing like lines of torture across his body. A livid reminder of the price. Is that why they had done it to him? To ensure his loyalty did not waver? He was beyond
being offended. When you had already sold your soul to the Devil it made no sense to quibble over the small change. Whatever thoughts were going through his second's mind he did not express them. Plessy was the only one the Captain had allowed to see him in this condition. And it would remain that way. If the rest of the crew had any idea of what was really going on behind
the scenes they would revolt. Peace Keeper training or no Peace Keeper training, the Scarrans had crossed the line. What they could never know was how far that line extended. How much of their dren they still had to swallow before they could call an end to it all. If they lived that long.

* * * * *

Aeryn Sun was enjoying herself. At Crichton's expense. Naturally.

"Aeryn, you have to see. There *has* to be some mistake."

She smiled and kicked him again. His knee gave way and he ploughed into the training mat with a loud humpf as the air puffed out of his lungs. Before he could get back up she was on him, imbolising him beneath her so casually that it bruised his ego more than the physical assault.

"Is that any way to talk to your God, human?" She hissed in his ear.

He was lying face down on the mat, his leg twisted beneath him. Getting pissed off but trying not to show it. Any display of emotion was a sign of weakness to Aeryn. Something else to be exploited. "Aeryn, you are *not* a God. Trust me on this."

She chuckled and licked his ear slowly. He shuddered. "Are you sure about that?"

"Let me up and I'll show you."

"Uh uh," The tongue continued its' slow moist passage down his ear canal making him tremble.

"Aeryn. What are you doing?"

"Lie still."

"Aeryn?"

She was silent, letting her hands do the talking for her. He groaned. Wanted to be up or at least allowed to roll over. His leg was killing him but she had him pinned fast. Unable to flip her off he lay still and willed himself to relax. Aeryn smiled but he could not see her face. Her fingers
stroking the back of his neck as she kissed his ear then washed her tongue down the side of his throat, pausing to feel the throb of his pulse against her mouth. He had gone quiet and she liked that. It meant his entire focus was on her.

"What in the name of Hezmot do you think you're doing?"

Aeryn sat up abruptly at the Dominar's words. She had not heard him come in, so intent on teasing Crichton that she had not picked up the distinct whine of his thronesled. She felt angry, irritated, not least because he had caught her indulging in a moment of physical weakness. Her feelings for the human were not intended for display yet here she was acting like a tralk and in no less a public place than the training area. Silently she berated herself. Rygel watched Crichton carefully roll onto his side. He did not look annoyed to see him. The Dominar caught the glimpse of pain on the human's face as he carefully straightened his right leg. Yotz, that looked painful. They exchanged a look of mutual understanding then it was back to business.

"What brings you here, Sparky? Did you come to see me or are you here on *royal* business?"

Aeryn shot him an irritated look. He rewarded her with a grin. The look on her face told him he would pay for that later. Ouch.

"You are wanted in Command. *Both* of you," He added for Aeryn's benefit. "It appears Moya has had some garbled communication from Talyn and is preparing to StarBurst."

"StarBurst?"

Before Rygel could respond the ship shook. Rygel's face took on the look of the condemned. "Oh, Yotz!" The next microt he went sailing across the room. Aeryn yelled to Crichton to find something to hang on to and made it to the doorway in time to hang on. Crichton was not so lucky. Hampered by his injured leg he had only just made it to his feet when the force of Moya's StarBurst sent him flying.

"John!"

He did not hear Aeryn. Was unable to find anything to grab onto as he was tossed and thrown in the same direction as Rygel. For the umpteenth time since arriving on Moya, he was glad that her biomechanoid surface was not created out of sharp edges but it still hurt like hell all the same. He
bounced off something that yelled back at him then was thrown across the other side with such force he had no time to throw his hands up to shield his head. In that microt he forgot all about the pain in his leg. All about the merciless teasing of the radiant Aeryn Sun. All about wormholes in fact. First the pain exploded in his head then he was consumed by blessed darkness.

* * * * *

At last Crais was allowed to sleep. Pain and exhaustion ending the near constant torture he was subjected to by Scorpius. The half-breed seemed restless, as if every microt of peace he gave Crais was begrudged. Perhaps it was. He was on his way to Command when he got the call. An
irritated and panicky sub-officer was informing him that the leviathan gunship had managed to send out a signal before they could silence him. Scorpius froze, tilted his head attentively while the sub-officer brought him up to date. A slow predatory grin peeled the mask back from his rotting teeth as he opened his mouth and laughed. Harsh ripples of heat bent the air around him. A purely Scarran roar of pleasure echoed down the corridor. When the echo died away, Scorpius adopted his usual contained expression and continued on his way. At last. Moya was coming to the aid of her son and bringing Crichton with her, whether he wanted it or not.

* * * * *

Aeryn straightened as Moya came out of StarBurst. She ran over to where Crichton lay. He was out cold, his head was bleeding. She looked up and heard Rygel groaning. Lifting his overturned thronesled she looked down at the little Dominar. He looked battered and bruised but otherwise
none the worse for wear.

"That's what I get for trying to warn you!"

"Shut up Rygel, John's hurt."

"So am I," Grumbled the Dominar but there was also a note of concern in his gruff voice. Straightening his thronesled he climbed back in and brought it down beside the human. "How is he?"

Aeryn was checking him over, her hands firm and assured. Quick but thorough. "He'll live, no bones broken that I could detect but he took a nasty crack to the head. We'd better get Zhaan to take a look at him."

Rygel nodded and accessed his com. "Zhaan, Crichton's been hurt."

"Bring him to the infirmy, I'll meet you there."

"We're on our way."

* * * * *

It was so rare to see the Scarran pleased that it took Captain Mirkot a little time to realise what the emotion was. Raknor inclined his head towards him in a gesture implying respect, his deep sonorous echo of a voice filling not only his ears but his entire head. They were alone and
speaking as if equals only Mirkot knew that was an illusion. Not for his sake but for the comfort of his Sebacean crew. A necessary deception that was but one of so many. It hardly roused a prick of conscience now. As the Scarran spoke to him he felt and saw images compounding inside his head in a living sculpture of not only what was being said but all the emotional content behind the words. He felt energised and strange but the process was ongoing, unfolding and developing from microt to microt, increasing in speed and depth so that he was unable to grasp anything but the rapid learning curve that had swept him up and was now consuming his senses. The Scarran continued to talk, watching him closely. Knowing what was happening. <How could he know that?>

"You have done well." Said the Scarran.

"What have you done to me?"

Amusement scorched the air the Scarran exhaled gently from heated lungs. His eyes burned gently. "You have been enhanced. Adapted. Do you not *feel* the power?"

Mirkot extended his senses. It was like inflating his lungs with pure oxygen. A high that affected every tissue in his body not simply his lungs. "Yes." He felt awe. He felt strength. He felt.... invincible.

Raknor smiled as much as his heavy armoured skin would allow. Whatever he thought about Sebaceans had no parallel to the affection he felt for this instrument before him now. He was the key to creating a leviathan fleet. The next stage was to take the leviathans from passive biomechanoids to fully operational Scarran based gunships. And for that to happen they needed one other thing. "Is the leviathan ready for its' pilot?"

The Captain nodded. He felt strangely protective towards the new leviathan. Did not want the Scarrans to hurt the ship. Raknor's smile widened like a grimace, showing irregular sharp teeth.

"Take me to the leviathan."

Captain Mirkot tapped a console and gave the order. The Command Carrier turned and set off in a graceful arc before embracing StarBurst. Behind it the Scarran Dreadnought hung like a bird of prey waiting for a mouse to appear. Confident and endlessly patient. Knowing the outcome was
assured.

* * * * *

Talyn was still shrieking. His cries reaching out to Crais in his extremis. Crais stirred from what could only be called oblivion not sleep and realised that he felt a little better. A little stronger. Yet
that only amplified his horror of the situation they were caught up in. All because of his anger. His uncontrollable rage leading him to imagine he could wreak his vengeance on Scorpius without suffering the consequences of his self delusion. Scorpius. How he had come to hate that name. The loathesome sychophant hovering even now, watching him as he hung suspended in the
microbiotic gel that mouthed and cleaned the last of his ruined flesh from a torso so steeped in endless agony that he no longer felt rudimentary pain. Being numb was good. Being awake was not.

He could feel washes of the leviathan's pain and felt his heart ache in response to him. "What have you done to Talyn?"

Scorpius smiled. He really was healing remarkably well. Soon they would remove him from the gel and begin the delicate task of imposing synthetic skin to allow him to finish healing until his body could regenerate new skin. The whole process fascinated Scorpius but not nearly enough to
deflect him from his main objective. "The gunship is being treated, healed. Even as you are. You should be grateful."

The word stuck in Crais's throat. The only thing he would be grateful for would be Scorpius's death at his hand. He forced himself not to give in to his anger. "How is he?"

"The leviathan is fighting us. It hampers his healing."

"You mean he's terrified and won't trust you."

Scorpius smiled disingenuously and moved closer so that he was now only a couple of dench from the container in which Crais hung. "That should give you no satisfaction, Crais, as the more he resists the more he will undoubtedly endure great agony. We can ease his pain and restore him just as we are restoring you."

"Why?"

"Why heal the leviathan?"

"No. Why heal me?"

A dark humourless chuckle scraped the remnants of Crais's eardrums and shivered down his spine, severing a heartbeat in its' echo. "To use one of Crichton's expressions, you are *bait*."

Rage began to fire through him causing Scorpius to shake his head at him through the plexiglass. "Your anger cannot save you, Crais."

"You will regret not killing me when you had the chance, Scorpius."

His response amused the half-Scarran. "Not as much as you will regret being permitted to live."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Instead of replying Scorpius looked up at his techs on the gantry above the chamber. He felt the probe, images excited in his head now appearing on that damnable screen. Scorpius had the sections of his memory marked so he could home in on them again and again and again, make him relive every intimate moment he had ever shared with Crichton. He tried to resist even
knowing that it would alter nothing except to increase his own pain and suffering. Angst ridden and tormented he tried to close his eyes but they would not even allow him that. It was tempting to lose himself in the past, allow the remembered touch of his lover to claim him but he could not do it. Could not give Scorpius that satisfaction. So he wept and raged and dreamt of revenge even as the walls of despair gathered like a cloak around him.

* * * * *

Aeryn was getting in the way. Gently Zhaan eased her over to one side so she could get to Crichton. She checked the human over carefully then began to treat the cut on his head. "He is unconscious and apart from this cut on his head and a few bruises appears to be mainly undamaged. That is," Paused Zhaan with a slightly puzzled look forming on her face. "Apart from his right leg."

"What about his leg?"

Zhaan gently examined the leg. "The leg is injured. I will need to look at it closer to see if the bone is fractured."

Aeryn looked away from Zhaan to Crichton's face. Felt the prick of conscience. If she had not been so deliberately rough with him he would not have been injured. If he had not been injured he would have been able to make it to a place where he could hang on when Moya went to StarBurst. Then he would not be here, his ghost white face filling her with guilt and not a little fear. She had not meant to hurt him. Tease him, yes. Dominant him, certainly. Hurt him like this, never. Aeryn looked up.

"Why did Moya StarBurst?"

"It seems she received a garbled message from Talyn."

Aeryn was frowning. She did not like the sound of that. "What did he say?"

"That he was in pain. That Crais was dying."

The shock on Aeryn's face rooted her to the spot. "What?"

"I do not know the details, Aeryn..."

Aeryn was no longer listening. Her brisk steps breaking into a run as she hurried out of the apothecary. What the frell had happened now? Crais dying? Talyn injured? Her heart rattled in her chest and fear raced through her veins. An unquiet fire. As she ran she saw Rygel coming the
other way. He opened his mouth to ask her what the yotz was going on but she ignored him
so he turned his thronesled and followed her. Aeryn wanted information and there was only one source she trusted to give it to her.

* * * * *

He squirmed. The violation was unbearable but he could not escape it. If it had merely been images of him and Crichton making love he could have withstood it but Scorpius made sure he felt it all, relived the emotions and sensations that accompanied all their actions. Every tender word, every beautiful loving touch. Every promise that fell from their passionate lips. Each caress turned into an implement of exquisite torture. It tore his heart to pieces even as his mind and body reacted to the stimulus again and again. His spirit cried out for Crichton. He pleaded. Begged. Anything to save the man he loved. To exact the merest microdench of mercy from the half-Scarran.

Scorpius shook his head slowly. He was enjoying this. "Nothing you say will change my mind or alter the inevitable outcome." He paused for effect. "I want that wormhole technology. I want John Crichton." Another pause. Scorpius stepped right up to the plexiglass but was careful not to
obscure Crais's view of the screen, the unfolding passion making the Sebacean's heart race, his tormented body trembling and shuddering with emotion and need. Fighting. He was still fighting it. Scorpius peeled back his lips and showed rotting teeth to Crais. "Be assured, Crais. I *will* have Crichton. It is the one certainty you can count on. The one thing that is not negotiable."

Crais could not have responded had he wanted to. His face awash with tears while his body rocked and trembled. The techs above monitoring him closely, knowing how close they could bring him to the edge without killing him. Crais closed his eyes for a precious microt before the techs made him open them again, the wash of emotions ravaging his soul as he watched.
Marvelling in his aching heart at this strange exotic human. This alien species who had so changed his universe that it had been rewritten in his image. His heart irreversibly contaminated. Whatever happened to him now, he would die the richer for knowing this man. Count himself blessed for having had the opportunity to know him, to love him, and if the Gods were kind - to die for him.

* * * * *
end