TITLE: "JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/CRAIS series

RATING: PG-13.

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

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

"JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

Scorpius was angry and trying to hide it. He needed to stay calm if only to stop himself overheating. He had to prevent himself from going through cooling rods at this rate or he would end up spiralling into heat delerium. He was in Crichton's cell, glaring down at the human's frail body sprawled in an unconscious heap on the floor. No amount of stimulus would wake him. He
felt an unaccustomed sense of panic. Tried to force it down. The human must not be allowed to die. No matter what. Even if it meant putting off the torture sessions in order to allow him to recover. He would accept the delay because there was no option but he was having difficulty controlling his disappointment. Almost it seemed as if the human was doing it on purpose. He nodded to the guards. "Take him to the medical facility. I want a guard with him at all times. No one is allowed to speak to him or move him. He is to be monitored at all times and will be fed intraveneously."

He watched as Crichton was carried out. Not a flicker of movement in the still body. Face taut and drawn. Too pale and far too thin. He realised he had overdone his interrogations. His eagerness to find the answers blinding him to his actions. The alien was far too fragile not strong and superior like Sebaceans. He had to remind himself constantly that he was only human.

* * * * *

For once his weakness was playing into Crichton's hands. Harvey looked smug. His bright yellow suit hurt Crichton's eyes. Where were his damn shades when he needed them? Damn. The frelling clone was wearing his Raybans. They were in some kind of room. It looked like a doctor's
waiting room.

"Who's sick, Harv?"

The clone looked at him. "You are."

"Ha ha, very funny I don't think."

"That's right," Said Harvey mildly, watching the door. "You don't think, John. That's how you end up in these predicaments in the first
place."

"What's the prognosis?"

"You have to wait for the doctor to see you."

"I thought you knew what Scorpy knew?"

"Scorpius thinks you're dying."

That raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

Harvey shrugged. "How do I know? Do I look like a shrink?"

"Harvey, it's a doctor not a shrink. You only use a psychiatrist for mental problems."

The clone grinned at him and he realised he had fallen into his trap. He sighed. Sick of Harvey's jokes. Just then the door opened and his name was called. Crichton got up and realised that Harvey had not moved. "You not coming?"

Harvey's grin widened even further. "I'm next."

* * * * *

Chiana's eyes were wide as saucers and filled with genuine fear. Aeryn's grip on her pulse rifle had not slackened. "I said, you tell me now or I *will* fire, tralk!"

Before she could say anything D'Argo walked in. His deep voice boomed with irritation. "What the frell is going on?"

Aeryn eased the gun from Chiana's head. At last. Now perhaps she would get some answers. "I would ask you the same question, D'Argo. Chiana says you found Zhaan."

"Is that why you were going to blast her head off with a pulse rifle?"

Aeryn gave a cold smile. It made Chiana shiver. She edged closer to the Luxan. "No. Where is Zhaan? What happened?"

D'Argo was silent for a microt. He took in the tension between Aeryn and Chiana and realised this was something that could not be put off until the morning. "Perhaps you had better ask her yourself."

He turned and walked out. Aeryn followed him. Chiana stayed back, still shaken and not keen to get anywhere near Aeryn for some time. If Crichton had been there he would never have let Aeryn's temper erupt like this. She had lost count of the number of times the human had personally intervened to difuse a potentially hostile clash between her and Aeryn. Often placing
himself physically between them. It was one of the many things she loved about him. He was so gentle. So protective. Of all of them. A tear pricked her eyes. Why did these things always happen to Crichton? It wasn't fair. And now they had lost him.

* * * * *

Dominar Rygel XVI of Hyneria would never admit it but he was worried about Crichton. He had not felt this much concern and responsibility for another being in hundreds of cycles. Especially a lesser species. Since coming to Moya he had come to think of the ship and her crew as his Second Family, an undeserved honour for them admittedly and an awkward surprise for himself. He had of course, buried those feelings as deep as he could. No sense in making the others uncomfortable as well. He recalled the sinking feeling in the pit of all three stomachs when Scorpius had revealed his hand. The sickening look on the human's face, distraught, agonised, full
of such horrow and sadness that it was painful for him to watch. To him the human was a mere child. Offspring of a backward race. Naive, young, far too trusting, and with a tendancy to be brash, noisy and affectionate. Not necessarily in that order. He snorted to himself. Yet he had
redeeming qualities. Too many in fact for him to name without getting morbid about it. He shook himself. He had not set foot on Benryddin to get moribund. This was a healer's planet. They had come here to help Crais. To help Talyn. That was not why he was here.

It was easy enough to slip away from the others. With everyone in their own little worlds anyway he knew he would not be missed. At least for a while. He just hoped they would not actually leave orbit without him but if they did he was pretty confident he could find a way back to Moya on his own. After all, what he wanted was on this planet. He knew it. He had seen it.

Once, when he was a young Dominar he had seen the Rekalas in the outer chamber of the throne room. His mother always consulted them on things of destiny. But this time had been different. They had not been brought into the Royal Presence. The Audience Chamber lay empty. The outer foyer cleared of dignitaries and servitors. Just his mother, himself and the three Rekalas. She had wanted a smaller casting. One concerning the true path. One concerning him. The chief scryer had cast the stones and looked long and hard at him then gave his pronouncements. Declared the length of his rule would be without equal but that he had three enemies he must defeat in his own unique way. Time. Distance. And Complacency. He had not understood any of it but his mother had nodded sagely. He knew now that it was his complacency that had left him open to his enemies. Given his cousin the opportunity to usurp him, take him prisoner and sieze the throne. Time and Distance he saw as his imprisonment and exile from Hyneria. The Rekalas had said nothing of when or how he would regain what was lost only that he must overcome. He realised in hindsight why his mother had been so secretive. She had not wanted anyone to know what the Rekalas had to say. Once again she was protecting him as she had done all his life. In some small microscopic way Crichton reminded him of her. His ability for self sacrifice, the depth of his caring, his desire always to help and watch over them. For such a young race he carried such ancient wisdom. It sometimes shook the Dominar that of all the species that spanned the Uncharted Territories it was this lost human who understood the most.

So here he was. On this blessed planet. Among more lesser species than he could count. Hoping that he could find a way to help another lesser species. Find a way to turn the tables on his captors and bring him back to Moya. To his friends. To those who loved him. Not that he was one
of those but he had a debt to the human. Ties that bound him that the others would never see. If it did not work no one would ever know. His secret would be safe and Moya would merely move on. As would all of them. But he knew that if that happened, perhaps the most precious part of them would not go with them and they would all be diminished. He missed his mother. She was one of the few who would have understood. And unlike the strange babbling human she would do it all without having to say a word. Now *that* was bliss. Rygel sighed and eased his thronesled between the stalls. He was sure he had seen the tentative swish of Carridian silk disappear down this route. He knew he was close. He just needed to get closer.

* * * * *

He awoke in brilliant light. Although it hurt him on a viseral level it was so frelling welcome. Light not darkness. Was he dead? Alive? It was so weird, almost as if the light were giving him strength. Bending and flexing through the walls of his flesh and radiating through his exsanguinated body. In the name of Cholok he had never felt more alive. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer upright. Floating or suspended in that gelatinous muscos that representated the bottom end of the galactic gene pool. He silently berated himself. That was
ungrateful. The creatures had most certainly been instrumental in saving his life. He turned
his dark head slowly, eyes cracked open to limit the ingress of light.

It felt so *good*. How could his new found joy be confined to words? Why limit the expression of his existence? The warm, vibrant throb of a heartbeat thrilled him. It was as if he could feel every organ, every muscle, every cell in his body celebrating this most precious and glorious gift of life. He wanted to laugh. To cry out in the extemity of his gladness. To thank whatever fates had intervened to save him. Benighted by his folly he had not expected to survive. As he began to take in more of his surroundings his euphoria abated. His thoughts had been flying eratically in all directions like fireworks going off. Now he was coming back to his senses. Memory a cold compress to a hot brow. He closed his newly opened eyes and wept with shame. Talyn. The price of his arrogance and foolhardiness had been the loss of the leviathan gunship. *His* leviathan
gunship. The tears fell hot and bitter only partly bloodied on the journey from his scorched and re-patterned tear ducts down newly fashioned skin and flesh. Coming back from the dead was not an exact science after all.

Talyn. How could he forget him so easily? He opened his eyes fully this time, viewing his surroundings more critically now. Seeking information. Where was he? The warm quiet thrum answered him from organic pulsing walls. A leviathan? His heart leapt. Talyn? Then his hope sank, plumetting to unimaginable depths of sorrow and dispair. Not Talyn. He was dead. That
meant he had to be on Moya. Fresh tears washed the blood from his eyes until they ran clear. Moya. That meant Crichton. He had broken his promise to him. His vow. To the one being who meant more than life to him. How would he be able to forgive him when he could not forgive himself? Yet Crichton was not like other men. He would forgive him, it was one of the many
things he could count on like the permanence of the human's love. A rock that would not shift beneath the sands of time.

The ship must have alerted the crew because the next time he opened his eyes he was staring into a vision of blue. Zhaan. She smiled sweetly at him and inclined her head.

"I am glad to see you awake at last."

Crais had difficulty finding his voice. So many questions. So many horrific memories torturing him. It was almost too much for him to take in.

Zhaan looked at him in concern. "Forgive me. I will go. This is too soon."

Panic siezed him. "No, no! Don't go, Zhaan! Please."

Zhaan relented and came to stand next to his bed. She tilted her beautiful head. Serene. Only her eyes were troubled. He thought it was his injuries that worried her and hastened to reassure the Delvian P'au. "I'm alright Zhaan. I don't know by what rights I live. I should have died."

"Yes, you should." She agreed mildly.

He flinched. Memory pained him. "Talyn died because of me."

Zhaan shook her head. "Talyn is not dead."

Crais frowned. Why was she mocking him? "Explain."

"Later. We will talk more when you have rested."

He tried to sit up but it was beyond him and Zhaan did not help him. He lay there and accepted it for now. "Where is Talyn?"

"We brought you both to Benryddin."

"The planet of healers?"

A gentle smile washed her features, pleased that he had heard of it. "Yes."

He gave a small sigh and closed his eyes a microt. Of course. Crichton would have demanded nothing less. Where was he? He had to see him right away. Apologise for his foolishness. The human would chide him gently but it would be done with such love. Such caring. Amusement dancing sombrely within those eyes of china blue. A gentle man. Able to bring tears to his
eyes with a single softly spoken word. His lips curved in a smile as he thought of his lover. Crichton. His gentle John. Without realising it sleep stole over him and carried him into dreams that for now were void of nightmares. His breath became the merest hush. As he sank beneath
the weight of cherished memories Zhaan was touched by a deep sadness. When he woke again she would have to tell him but for now, let him sleep. Time enough to break the news about Crichton. She turned to find she was no longer alone with Crais. Just coming through the door was D'Argo, Chiana and Aeryn. She was tired but more than that she was concerned that they
would disturb Crais. Aeryn in particular had a look like thunder on her face. She quickened her steps and led them out of the apothecary and along the corridor towards Command. Aeryn stopped her in the corridor. Refusing to wait another microt for an explanation.

"What happened to you?"

"I needed to visit the temple."

If her answer surprised Aeryn she did not show it. Rather, anger lines deepened. "And I suppose you left Rygel there to finish your prayers? Did you think we would not be worried about you?"

Zhaan frowned, forgetting how weary she was. "Rygel? What are you talking about child? Rygel was not with me."

* * * * *

Scorpius kept pacing making the medtechs nervous. No one said anything though. Self preservation was the first rule of the Uncharted Territories. Looking after number one meant survival pure and simple. Lt Braca watched him but kept silent. After several microts he left, Lt Braca paused a microt and looked at the human. The man was a mess. He would not have have
been surprised to find he had liquified inside and that only the stubborn skin of his body kept it from leaking all over the place. But the human was suprisingly resilient. Perhaps he would surprise him again and live. He turned and hurried after Scorpius.

The small army of medtechs looked down at the unconscious human and placed masks over their faces. Invoking an environmental containment field they continued with their scans, while advanced technology filtered his blood and clensed his kidneys. Despite their efforts the heartbeat was weakening. They had to stabilise his condition so that Scorpius could continue questioning him. The chief medtech officer was scanning his brain wave patterns, anxiously trying to ascertain whether his brain had been permanently damaged when the human went into cardiac arrest. Alarms went off, the monitors were going crazy. He knew a microt of utter panic and swept his anxious eyes over his medical team. What did you do to restart a human heart? How close was it to Sebacean? They were looking at him, waiting for his decision. He swallowed hard and nodded. "We will have to restart his heart."

The female tech officer, Larindar, looked out of her depth. "How do we do that?"

"I will have to massage his heart. Now," He pointed to Crichton's chest, approximating the area for her. "You will cut down here. And hurry or we will be too late!"

She nodded, pale face bobbing. Virbo knife humming in her hands. As soon as the opening was made he dipped a hand inside and felt for the failing organ. Hands slippery with blood he found it. Gently he compressed the walls of heart, taking the rhythm from recordings they had made of
the human's heartbeat. They were all guessing and praying that it was the right thing to do. All eyes were now on the monitors. It was so quiet you could hear the sticky suction of the open wound around the surgeon's hand. After what seemed a lifetime the body trembled and the heartbeat hiccoughed back into an unsteady rhythm. They pumped him with drugs then sewed him
up again. Too much blood loss was not helping. The chief surgeon made a radical decision. In the absence of anything else he could do, he arranged to transfuse Sebacean blood to a non-Sebacean. He just hoped he was not killing the patient in his frantic efforts to save him.

* * * * *

Crais woke a few arns later. There was no sign of Zhaan but D'Argo and Chiana were talking quietly in a corner. Crais saw them and raised his voice as much as he could. "Where's Zhaan?"

They stopped talking at once. Chiana hurried over to him. D'Argo excused himself. "I'll tell Zhaan our patient is awake."

Chiana nodded at him and turned her full attention to Crais. She tilted her head at him and smiled with forced cheer. "Hey, how you doing?"

He eyed her darkly. "Better. Where is John?"

She avoided his eyes. "You know you gave us quite a scare."

"I need to see him. Now."

"And Talyn was so burned..."

That diverted him. "Talyn, how is he?"

She looked at him then, her face sorrowing. "He was hurt pretty bad. I never knew leviathans could suffer such deep burns and not die outright."

"I said, how is he?"

She swallowed, nodded carefully. "Getting better."

"Can I see him?"

She shook her head, wondering what was taking the others so long. She hated this. "Not yet. Soon."

"He must be frightened. Frantic. He needs me."

"Hey, Moya's keeping a close eye - you know? Mothers do that."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "What is it you are not telling me, Chiana?"

Just then Zhaan swept in, a bit breathlessly. Aeryn was with her and D'Argo hung back. Chiana gave Zhaan a grateful smile and went to join D'Argo. Zhaan began to check Crais over. "How do you feel?"

He was getting bad tempered. He hated being kept in the dark about anything and he hated being stuck in this bed. He needed to get up, move about, check on Talyn, see John. Right now he needed answers. "As if people are hiding things from me. Perhaps you will now please tell me,
where is John and why can't I see Talyn?"

Zhaan exchanged a look with Aeryn. Aeryn stepped back a half pace to let Zhaan break the news. Crais frowned, it was not like Aeryn to shy away from anything. Zhaan took a seat next to his bed and looked at Crais. He could not take his eyes off her. "When you left you made John a promise." He nodded and waited. "You broke that promise."

He was about to protest but Zhaan held up a hand and he fell silent. Waited for her to continue.

"We found out what happened. What you tried to do to the Command Carrier."

"I did not intend for this to happen."

"What?" Piped up Chiana. "You didn't intend for the mine to blow up in your face and take Talyn up with it or to tell us?"

Aeryn shot her a furious glare but Chiana was unrepentent. Because of Crais's stupid heroics they had lost Crichton. Damn right she was mad at him.

"No." Said Crais slowly, his deep voice evening out as he mentally calmed himself. "I intended to kill Scorpius and escape."

"Good plan." Muttered Chiana. D'Argo put a hand on her arm and she fell silent.

Crais realised something else must have happened. "Where is John?"

Aeryn took up the story. "After your abortive mission Scorpius captured you and Talyn. He put you in a healing tank and Talyn in the hold. Then he sent out a message."

He did not like the sound of that. "To First Command?" He whispered.

She shook her head but could not go on. Zhaan spoke for her. "To John."

He closed his eyes. <No, no, NO! In the name of Cholok, don't let this be happening> Zhaan continued in an emotionless voice, her hands gripped tight at her sides all the colour squeezed out of them. "John made a deal with Scorpius. The life of you and Talyn for his."

Tears hot and bitter scalded his cheeks, his heart bursting with agony and sorrow. Every cell in his body in distress. They left him then, a prisoner of his grief. His guilt and pain wracking him. Only Aeryn stayed with him, he did not know why. He did not deserve a microt of their time let alone all the efforts they had gone to in order to save him. He could not imagine how much the help from the healers at Benryddin must have cost them. Probably all they had. And how did he repay them? He had lost Crichton. The gentle, noble, self sacrificing human had done what he always did best. Given his life for them. Or more accurately, for him. He could not stop the tears, his heart breaking again and again. His body shaking with sobs. Unaware that Aeryn had now sat beside him, was holding his hand, head bowed. Tears of her own rolling down her cheeks and joining his. Keeping her own promise to Crichton.

* * * * *
END