TITLE: "HEAVEN AND HELL"

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 "THE PACT"

SUMMARY: "Crichton does the only thing he can do. Meanwhile Moya is not the only one going through changes."

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

"HEAVEN AND HELL"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Captain Mirkot had never felt such freedom. Such passion. The mere routine of drawing breath had taken on a totally new meaning for him. Arns were no longer parts of a solar day adding to weekens and monens then cycles to be lived through and endured. Every microt had become precious to him. Filled with Aylsa, bonded to the leviathan in an incredibly complex symbiosis, he had never felt happier. More fulfilled. Just thinking about his beloved leviathan made him feel weak with unutterable joy. Something no Scarran would ever be able to grasp let alone understand. Now the Scarrans were planning to build a fleet of leviathan gunships. At first they would have Sebacean Pilots like him but he knew that would never be enough for the Scarrans. They would not be content until they could impose a Scarran pilot on a leviathan. The thought curdled his blood. Made him go cold with fear and dread. Bad enough to make them into Peace Keeper gunships without bonding them to the Scarrans. If ever a match was made in hezmana it had to be that one. And of course, once they had succeeded in doing that there would no longer be any need for the fragile alliance with the Peace Keepers.

He felt the leviathan stir in him and drifted along her tones and echoes. Her fluids fed and nutured him. Her love filled him with a sense of belonging and of purpose. He did not need to see the stars for she gave him every vision of the heavens he could ever yearn for. Fledgling emotions rose between them in such a beautiful song that he did not know where she ended and he began. Her soothing rythms vanquished his dark thoughts about the Scarrans. His sorrow that they were part of such destructive machinations. Aylsa had accepted him, would love him and he would love her. For now it was enough to enhance the bonding, to become familiar with every part of her and so he flowed through her senses into every part of the living ship. Felt her skin as his skin, her musical hum was part of him now, each tier diverse and precious to him. His thoughts able to touch and direct the DRDs and all the systems of the ship. As he drifted with her, his hands moved in an endless ballet over her controls, adjusting and monitering her systems to keep everything at optimum efficiency. Anything that added to the comfort of the leviathan added nothing but joy to his once cold heart.

* * * * *

"You have to stop him! That's the most fahrbot, bartantic piece of dren he's ever come up with!" Yelled Chiana, distraught. Her distress vying with fear and anger.

"Yes," Agreed D'Argo. "He must be made to see that this is no answer at all. He will just be playing into Scorpius' hands."

Aeryn had tears in her eyes. Why did they all think he would listen to her? "You don't understand. I don't have any say in this..."

"Yes, you do." Said Zhaan gently but firmly. She was careful, trying not to cause the Sebacean any more pain than could be avoided. "We *all* do." She paused a microt to let that sink in. To let other shoulders share in taking the strain. Rygel watched and listened in silence. So subdued that the others ignored him. "But we also have to face the fact that we may not be able to stop him going through with his plan."

"Plan!" Muttered Rygel softly, his voice gruff and low. The sound derisive but also sad. He sounded as if he held out no hope that they could do anything to stop him.

"You have to go, Aeryn." Pleaded Chiana. "He won't listen to me."

The Nebari was crying again. Chiana had always had a soft spot for Crichton. Aeryn knew that she would do anything for the human but this was beyond her abilities so she was placing her faith in the former Peace Keeper. Now there was irony if you liked. They had never been friends. Now Aeryn realised they had never been enemies either. One thing, and one thing alone had brought them together. Crichton. She sighed. "Very well, I will try but you know how stubborn he can be."

Zhaan inclined her head graciously. "That is all we can ask."

She left them briskly, her head spinning with all the things she could say to him. The uncertainty rising in her and making her feel sick to the stomach. What Crichton had once called rattlers were bringing her to the borders of panic. Deep down inside she knew. As they all did. That Crichton would go through with it. This last ditched attempt to divert him from the inevitable was not born of any faint hope that it would work but of their chaotic feelings for this strange alien. This deficient human who had come to mean so much to them. Who had touched them in ways that amazed and humbled them. This odd lost creature whose generosity of spirit and natural good heartedness had caused each and every one of them to find their true selves. To become better people because of him. To become a kind of family. A family that looked out for each other, that cared and thought about each other not just themselves. Now, once again, he was determined to do what D'Argo called the noble thing. For Aeryn there was nothing noble about it. He wanted to save his friend. And they each knew that he would do exactly the same thing if it were one of them out there in that hideous tank instead of Crais. It was that knowledge that was the killer.

He was preparing his module. Of course. He would take that ugly piece of dren. Stubborn frodank. She stopped and watched him. All his attention on checking the systems right through, Pilot monitoring his actions and confirming each item on the human's check list. He became aware of her and tilted his head slightly towards her but did not stop the busy fingers dancing over the control switches. "Aeryn, I have to do this."

For a moment she said nothing. Her mouth dry. Her heart squashed so that there seemed to be nothing to pump around her system. No air in her lungs, no thought in her head except *Don't go! I need you. I can't bear this. Please don't leave me*.

Her silence made his ears ache. He looked at her. Time froze. They were weightless. He swallowed slowly. She watched the rise and fall of his adam's apple, the expression in his eyes going right through to her soul and holding her so gently she could not stop the tears. He was out of the cockpit in an instant, the spell broken, movement restored to them but nothing could stop the pain. His arms folded round her and she cried as if her heart was breaking. "Ssssh, it's alright Aeryn. It's okay. I'm okay with this, you have to trust me."

"Well I'm not okay with this!"

He rocked her in the strength of his arms, so gentle, so loving, so loved. "I have to do this, you know that Aeryn. There is no other way."

"There must be. We'll find it. Together."

He leaned back a little so he could see her face. A hand rose to gently brush the hair from her eyes. She trembled at his touch. She loved his touch. Loved him. She did not want him to go. Not even for Crais.

"We don't have time, Aeryn. You heard Scorpius."

"That vile abomination!" She spat.

"I know, I know," He soothed. He did not want to leave her like this. "But I'm the only chance Crais has got. You saw him." A lump rose in his throat and he could not go on. Unshed tears shone in his eyes.

Aeryn felt angry. Not at him but at what he was doing. "Why do you have to be the hero?"

His voice was soft. So gentle. He was using every microt he had left to soothe and reassure her. So selfless. So much love. Such gentle understanding. How could they have ever thought he was deficient? Just because they had been raised to understand strength, all the attributes of the warrior, none of the peacemaker. Yet here he was. John Crichton. The greatest peacemaker of them all. Somehow his quiet strength dwarfed their warrior's rage as if by love alone he could tame a violent universe. He taught them so much and it was not over yet. At least she prayed it was not.

"I'm not trying to be a hero, Aeryn." He murmured. She felt his lips kiss her brow. Closed her eyes against the tears. Every cell in her body straining to absorb his touch, record his every word in the hushed spaces where love lay sleeping. "Just trying to do the right thing."

"How can it be right to put yourself in the hands of that monster?"

He kissed her closed eyes. His lips so soft, so beautifully tender. Every touch raised to an art form. Her body sang his song but her heart could not be still. She could not let him go.

"You know, we have a saying on Earth. Goodness is its' own reward." He could feel her frowning at the words but she did not say anything. She felt the curve of his lips and held him tighter. Keeping him close. He stroked her hair as he spoke. As if some spell had been cast over them making the microts stretch to give them this time together. "Doing the right thing is what separates the good guys from the bad guys, Aeryn."

"Are you saying that if you didn't surrender to Scorpius to save Crais you'd be another Scorpius?"

He pulled back, startled. "No Aeryn, that's not what I meant. He's a one off, at least I hope that's what he is. I don't want to think of there being more people like him though with the things I've seen the balance of probability doesn't look too good."

She let that wash over her, not sure what he meant. It was not important. What was important was that he was leaving and she could not think of a single thing she could say to stop him.

"I need you to do something for me, Aeryn." He whispered into her hair.

*Anything. Anything. Just don't go. Don't leave me*.

He drew back gently and watched her face. A prelude to parting. "Look after Crais for me. He is *not* going to handle this well."

She was crying again. She was not handling this well either. Then he was kissing her, his lips on hers, his heart calling out to her to let him go. That he *needed* to do this. He loved Crais too much to leave him in torment, a subject of whatever agonies that hideous half-breed had subjected him to. It was more than Crichton could bear. How could he live with that? He couldn't. And if Aeryn could not understand that then she did not know him as well as he thought. She had to trust him on this. Respect his decision. He was too much of a realist to expect her to like it. Aeryn was, after all, Aeryn. They broke away and Aeryn's eyes opened to focus on him.

"Don't be mad at me, Aeryn." He whispered. "I love you. I love you all."

"I love you too."

He nodded, he knew. Then he was back in the cockpit of the Farscape 1 and prepping the module for take off. Aeryn was unaware that the others had joined her. Felt nothing until strong arms guided her back behind the blast doors. D'Argo. Together they stood and watched as the diminutive little craft took off and left the gaping maw of Moya's transport hangar. Swallowed by the hungry darkness of space. She could not bear it. Aeryn turned and buried herself in the Luxan's chest. His sigh was deep and passionate, his arms a protective harbour. His tear stained face turned to Zhaan. She looked harrowed. Chiana ran, could not bear to be with them in her grief. Rygel watched her go. Sad. Solemn. The only one without a tear in his eye though sorrow swamped him as keenly as the rest. He was a Hynerian Dominar. He did not cry. But deep in his crusty old heart he knew he lied.

* * * * *

Raknor was happy that the Sebacean had been accepted. Everything had gone a lot smoother than anticipated. The Scarran had his techinicians watch Mirkot through hidden cameras and sensors. All the while recording his life signs and reaction to the bonding process. He needed to have more than a single successful merging. He needed to know why it was successful and how he could duplicate it. If Mirkot knew he was being observed he showed no sign of it and that pleased the Scarran Commander. It pleased him very much. He sent a specially encoded signal to another Peace Keeper Command Carrier. As Plessy went to StarBurst the other Carrier waited. Then when they emerged the second Carrier opened fire. The effect was stunningly effective. The encoded signal that came back to Raknor made him draw back his chitinous lips in satisfaction.

The Sebacean Captain was oblivious to the fate of his old ship. It would never occur to him that the Scarrans might jump the gun and eliminate the Peace Keeper side of the bargain before they had mastered the tricky subject of bonding species other than Pilots with leviathans. His confidence in what he had seen so far was staggering. Mirkot was so lost in Aylsa he noticed nothing else. He had never been so happy, so content. For the time being at least, he was in Heaven.

* * * * *

The smug look of pleasure on Scorpius's face made Crichton feel sick. He felt like Jonah in the belly of the Whale. Cautiously he climbed out of his module and watched the half-breed walk towards him. By the time his feet were on the Command Carrier's deck, Scorpius was only a couple of feet away. Crichton's face was taut, his breath struggling to maintain a state of calm. He tried to hide his fear but already his grip was slipping. "Where's Crais?"

"Resting."

"I want to see him."

"I thought you wanted him to be despatched to Moya?"

His expression hardened. "First I want to see him."

Scorpius looked at him for a moment. Carefully hiding the fact that he knew the true nature of their relationship. Let Crichton think he still had some secrets. He would enjoy showing him the depth of his error later. The Victor could always afford to be magnanimous. "As you wish."

Crichton watched him turn and fell into step behind him. Scorpius hid a smile and slowed until they were walking side by side. His men dropped into place behind them. Scorpius started to talk animatedly about his hopes for the wormhole technology. How critical it was for the survival of the Peace Keepers. How they needed to be united against the bigger threat, the Scarrans. Crichton was only half listening. He took careful note of where they were going, his need to see Crais, assure himself that his friend was still alive. Everything else was secondary.

When they reached the special medical facility that Scorpius had set up to care for Crais, he stopped in his tracks. Stunned and horrified. He had thought the image looked bad on the viewscreen. It was a hundred times worse to be standing feet away from his friend and see the full horror of his injuries as he hung suspended and helpless in the tank. His breath caught, his heart thudded painfully. He felt so upset. Nauseous. <Oh my God Crais, what have they done to you?>

He could not stop himself from closing the distance between them. He paused inches from the perspex tank. Crais had his eyes closed. His body appeared to be bloated in a red raw blister, only his head escaped the bloating effect. Crichton realised that this went way beyond third degree burns. This was total immolation and then some. He spoke to Scorpius but did not take his eyes off Crais. "What did you do to him?"

"I saved his life."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"It does not matter what you believe, I can prove it."

For a moment Crichton did not speak. He could feel the back of his throat closing with emotion. Tears gathered in his eyes. "Prove it? How?"

Scorpius did not smile. "I will show you."

Crichton managed to drag his eyes away from Crais to look at the half-breed. Scorpius took him to a viewscreen and had the images replayed. He watched dumbstruck as the tableau unfolded before his eyes. <Oh Crais, you stupid son of a bitch. You beautiful idiotic man. How did you think you could stop Scorpius so easily? Have you learned nothing from me?> The images then switched to show the aftermath. The Command Carrier approaching the charred leviathan as it hung crookedly and powerless. Crichton could almost smell and taste the acrid smoke of her fires. His eyes pricked with tears. He watched Talyn being taken in, the techs bringing out the charred body of Bialar Crais. His immersion in the tank and the action of the gelatinous microbes eating away the burnt flesh so that their chemicals could start to heal the red raw residue that was all that was left clinging to the skeleton and organs of the Sebacean's body.

His nemesis watched his reaction in silence. Knew the human capable of such strong emotions. It still interested the scientist in him that a being could be so fragile yet so strong. His emotional weaknesses giving him a perverse strength that he had never witnessed in another being in the Uncharted Territories. Interesting. Even without the wormhole technology this human fascinated him.

"Will he live?" He whispered in a hushed, aching voice. His eyes finally turning to Scorpius.

"Yes but it will take a long time for him to recover. He cannot be removed from the tank for several monen."

He swallowed hard and nodded. It figured. Back home someone would have died from such injuries. The Intensive Care Units back home could only do so much. The tech these people had at their disposal was something else. "Okay." He paused. "I need a favour. Can you give me a few microts?"

Scorpius just looked at him. He swallowed again.

"I just want a few microts alone with him. That's all."

For a microt Scorpius looked at him then tilted his head but he could not read the expression on the masked face. The Death's Head skull was incapable of showing warmth or feeling yet Scorpius was also subtle. He was not sure but for just a microt he thought he detected something akin to compassion. He was deluding himself of course. This was Scorpius not Mother Theresa. "Of course, John. You have a hundred microts."

He sucked in a breath, nodded once. His voice subdued. "Thank you."

Then his tormentor was gone. Crichton walked back to the tank, fanned his fingers out as he touched the plexiglass that separated him from Crais. Tears streamed down his face carrying his heart with them. "God Crais, why did you have to do it? Why didn't you listen to me?"

He knew why of course and that was what hurt most. Crais had done it out of love. Love of him. "I never wanted you to die for me, Bialar." He whispered. "All I wanted was for you to live for me. Be with me. To never leave me." He broke off as sobs wracked him, leaned his forehead against the plexiglass, his tears now running now the clear surface while he held on to the healing tank that could so easily become his lover's coffin. Scorpius had told him Crais would live and he had not lied to Crichton. Not yet. Perhaps he knew that one lie would undermine the only currency they had ever had between them. He needed Crichton. Needed what was in his head. He raised his tear stained face and looked at Crais. Now they were both in Hell.

He did not turn round as the footsteps returned. He kept his eyes on Crais, watched him suspended in the gel, eyes closed, breathing regular, the gel sliding over his blistered body. He could not stop the tears, the memories, the heartache. The footsteps stopped just behind him. Waiting. Expectant. With a determination he could not feel, Crichton straightened and without looking at Scorpius turned and walked out of the medbay. "Let's do it."

Behind him Scorpius turned to the guards who accompanied him and nodded sharply. "Take the chamber to the transport and see to it that it reaches Moya. You are to deposit Crais and return immediately. Is that understood?"

The guards nodded. Scorpius turned and walked briskly to fall into step with Crichton. The Chair awaited.

* * * * *
END