TITLE: "THE DARK"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/STARK

RATING: R

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

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

"THE DARK"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

The illuminated walls of his prison contracted. The edges so black they almost looked purple, opalescent with a dark fire. He could see the light on the other side, a transparent field between the two. So fine was its' definition yet it defied quantifying. He stilled his frantic mind as best he could, called up for the others to join with him, to strengthen him. Silence echoed upon silence. Fear, black and hungry and over reaching, clawed at his soul and shredded his nerves to ribbons. <John! John, where are you?>

There was no answer. His hands reached out, stunted by the confines that bound him. Edges invisible yet unyielding. Panic growing as he felt the shape of the hell he was consigned to. The walls of the box. Stark knew he could not reach John. Could not extend his senses beyond this most intimate of prisons. His people divorced from him and terror creeping up on his soul. Aided and abetted by a growing dread, tears washed his soul, his light unable to penetrate and free him. Eternity had never looked so bleak.

* * * * *

Rygel was deep in thought. Not for over a hundred cycles had he been lured into such introspection. The foolish but valiant human had once again placed his neck inside a noose that threatened to tighten around them all. Just because he could not see the trap did not mean it was not there. He mentally reviewed the events of the past few solar days. Crichton being irresistably drawn to the Denari Cluster. Everybody going along with what had seemed at the time nothing more than a harmless whim. Humouring him. What had drawn him here? And why? On the surface the answer now seemed obvious but to someone as used to the machinations of the imperial court as he was, the visible spectrum of possibility was hardly likely to yield the truth. Far from it. Experience had taught Rygel that what you could see was always the tip of the iceberg. Placed in plain sight to obfuscate not reveal. To take the eye off the truth that lay hidden beneath.

He knew that Stark would never knowingly entice Crichton or the rest of them into a trap. Therefore, if trap it was, the Banik had been manipulated without his knowing it. That in itself chilled him more than all the bloodhounds of Mentis Prior. By the Hynerian Gods, the stench of evil was liquifying the contents of all three of Rygel's stomachs quicker than the acids in his urine. For the first time in over a hundred cycles Rygel deliberately invoked the Markesh Sen, a kind of deep Hynerian meditative state that involved lowering the heartrate in order to tap into the central memory. It was a deliberate linking with his ancestors and the only way he knew to tap into a wisdom lost to Hyneria through centuries of war and division. It was also the quickest way to seek guidance from the Hynerian Gods. He might openly appear to ignore or even show scorn for them but deep in his heart he still believed. Passionately. As did every Hynerian since
the First Dominar. He told himself he was not doing this for the human. Crichton deserved whatever fate befell him for his foolishness. The bartantic grolash had propelled Moya and her crew into more tight spots than a Zenetan pirate caught in the flax. The human had also got them out of trouble more times that he could count, but he did not give a garanta's brax about that now. This was not about being noble or even doing the right thing. It was about survival, pure and simple. Not only his but Crichton's. If anyone had so much as suggested such a thing he would have fiercely denied it.

* * * * *

Zhaan spoke gently, explaining to Crichton that their Unity this time would be different. They would be going much deeper than ever before. The merging this time would be so utter and complete that only his ability to submit his will to hers would save him. He did not care. Had no fear for his own safety. His heart was already so open to her that she felt humble, every moment he gave to her a gift. Did he know how rare this quality of his was or how treasured such things were to a Pa'u? Somehow she knew it would not have mattered to him. He wanted only to find his friend. They knelt facing each other. The little DRD watched cautiously but stayed close to Crichton. Zhaan ignored him. For her everything had ceased to exist except the task before them. She placed her hands either side of his head and he copied her, their foreheads leaning in until they touched.

He fell much more quickly this time. His mind so open, complete in his trust, his heart passively seeking and crying out Stark's name. Zhaan's presence was both hope and comfort, her love giving him succour and strength. She was more than his guide, she was part of his soul and guardian of his heart. Zhaan chanted softly, the Goddess Kah'leen blessed this human in her name. He felt Zhaan's presence expand through him, intensify through every pore, every cell, every nerve and muscle. He felt erotic sensations ripple through him more powerful than any orgasm. The sensation was a constant wave stealing his breath and filling him with heat and impossible desires that he tried to rise above. He heard Zhaan in his mind, calm, soothing, untroubled by the fire ignitinig in his loins and shooting up his spine. She held him firmly, ignored his aching response and washed her cooling thoughts through his struggling mind. <Concentrate on my thoughts, John, ignore the sensations in your body. Let them pass>

<Uuuh, easier said than done, Zhaan>

She firmed her resolve to strengthen his. <Try. For Stark>

That got through. He hung on to that thought and felt himself begin to surface back into some kind of focus. Zhaan's thoughts invading his mind, gently expanding his consciousness so that she could look inside, explore every part of him with an intimacy only Stark had known hitherto. She touched his thoughts, relived in passing all the things that had touched him most deeply. His hopes, his fears. The things he loved. Those he cherished. His passions. His sorrows. Tears flowed from inward seeking eyes. Love gently cradled him as she probed deeper. He opened up more, willing himself to hide nothing, reveal even those parts of himself of which he had no conscious awareness. She entered his memories of Stark and he shivered with emotion. She shared every intimate thought and touch, examined them in detail. He was trembling now, his tears joining hers as memories became more vivid than reality. Zhaan calmed his breathing, her gentle soothing instructions helping him while her thoughts continued the journey within. He could see Stark so clearly. The Banik's gentle face before him, his hand touching him, his beautiful voice so full of love and wisdom it made him cry. His lips caressing his, their souls melting and merging as they gently made love. He was falling again. So deep not even the walls of eternity could catch him. He did not care. If he could not find Stark he was lost anyway. Every other love fading in his consciousness like the beat of a dying heart.

Zhaan paused. <What's this?>

It took him a microt to be able to form a thought. <Insurance>

<Insurance?> The word puzzled her. His explanation confused her. <Insurance against what?>

His soul wept in answer. Pain radiating throughout his soul, sharpened by memories that cut him so deep. Wounded him still. She hushed him, washed him with a love so devine it deadened his pain, gave his soul ease yet did not rob him of clarity. She needed him to keep his focus, to stay open to her on every level, to remain conscious.

<It was to help me survive the chair, Zhaan>

<How?>

<Stark created a safe place. He called it the box. Gave me the key. It would be the one place I could hide that Scorpy could never find me>

A chill shivered down her fibres. Crichton felt it and shook slightly in her hands. <What was that?>

<Apprehension. Fear>

<Am I frightened?>

Gently she soothed him with her thoughts, he felt heat slowly rise in him and for a moment was distracted. The ache in his groin so intense he almost came. <God Zhaan.......d...don't do that>

She did not apologise. Was unconcerned by the reaction it caused in him. So intense her sex was burning him. It was a byproduct only. Her thoughts were not on any physical effect she was triggering. She had to go deep. It had to be intense to reach this most hidden of places. She could not explain it to him so she showed him, his breath hitching as he struggled for control even as he lost it completely. Zhaan seemed not to notice. Held him gently until he started to come back to her, his heart racing as he tried to find her calm centre again. Her love washed through him, her thoughts now refashioning his own. <We have to go deeper, John>

He nodded, willing but not knowing if he would make it. If he would be able to endure. She took him deeper. He shook. She held him tight, her caress so beautiful, her thoughts directing his until they found what they were looking for. So deep now that he was verging on the point of passing out but Zhaan would not allow that to happen. Could not lose her connection to him now. They were close she could feel it. Her thoughts almost detected Stark. What was blocking her? What was keeping Crichton out? She pushed with her mind and Crichton cried out with pain. Bright searing rods of fire stabbing through him, ripping through the back of his eyeballs, shoving tongues of flame through his flesh and scorching him. Zhaan was shocked but even more detemined to press on. <Hang on John, hold on to me. We are close, I can feel it>

He was shaking so hard, only her grip on his head was keeping him upright. The little DRD was anxious, light stalks waving in distress, muted little noises telling Moya of his fear.

<Open up, John! You're closing. Open up!>

He gritted his teeth and fought, pushing back the walls of pain, the agony. Hanging on to Zhaan in his mind and Stark in his heart, thinking of all those he loved so passionately. The walls began to recede. As the gaps widened Zhaan helped him, her love flooding in and filling him, dousing out the fire of pain that was making him unable to think, to function. <Thanks, Zhaan>

<Sssh, concentrate on Stark, John>

<Ahhh, Stark> He thought of his friend, his lover, his soul mate. Tears pricked eyes he could no longer feel. <Where are you Stark? Give me a sign here, buddy>

Something brushed his heart. So light, so insubstantial, yet he knew the touch. His heart leapt with hope, joy and renewed his efforts to find him. <Did you feel that, Zhaan?>

<Yes, John>

<Stark? Stark? Where are you?>

Like treacle oozing slowly, seeping, he felt Stark's presence. So faint, so agonised, that he wept for him. Cried out his name, shared his distress. Where the hell was he? Why couldn't he see him? Touch him?

<John, open out more. You are narrowing your focus>

<Sorry, Zhaan>

It took effort, it took everything he had to comply but he did it. Zhaan augmented his failing strength and together they went deeper, beyond his conscious memories, into a darkness that would have given oblivion a run for its' money. With a shock he came up against an unseen obstacle. A kind of transparent shield that blocked out the light. Before him was untold darkness, behind him him was light, warmth, hope, life. He was confused. <Zhaan?>

<I am here, John>

<What in hezmana am I feeling here?>

She was silent for a few moments. Not sure. <John, describe what Stark created for you>

<Created for me?>

He felt her smile of reassurance. It did not reassure him at all. <The place for you to hide in>

<The box?>

<Yes>

<Okay, what do you want to know?>

<Everything.>

He flooded her with memories, she relived them with him. The beauty and depth of their love making, the desire in Stark to protect him from all harm. The wonder of the ultimate gift. She was silent for so many microts afterwards that Crichton felt a stab of fear. <Hey Zhaan? You alright?>

Her heart went out to him that he should be thinking of her at a time like this. She schooled herself to remain calm, her silent prayers increasing. <Reach out John to the obstacle before us>

<And then what?>

<Reach out with your love and...>

He hung on her thoughts, waiting for her to finish.

<....break through the barrier>

He did not hesitate. She felt his great outpouring of love, his passion, his desire, his concern for Stark. Like a tidal wave of emotion it rose up against the strange wall that rose sheer and formless before them. So intense were his feelings that they combined with her strength and illuminated the darkness beyond for a single, heart stopping microt. His scream of anguish and pain almost undid her. Like a face floating beneath a wreath of black weeds in the deepest depths of the ocean the whitened face of his beloved hung before them. His mouth open in a silent scream. His single eye filled with horror and a blinding panic. The shock of revelation tore Crichton's heart and mind to shreds. The contact broken like a taut wire snapping under extreme duress. He simply snapped. And when he fell. He took Zhaan with him.

* * * * *

Aeryn had never been any good at waiting. D'Argo found her in the gym working out and thrashing the punch bag for all she was worth. A sheen of perspiration glistened on her skin. The concentration on her face, while total, was not on her training regime. It was on Crichton. Worry filled her heart. Anxiety raced through her veins. She tried to project all her negative thoughts on to the punch bag then knock the hezmana out of them.

"Aeryn."

She paused, then turned to face him, her brows drawing close. "What is it?"

"Zhaan is attempting to find out where Stark is by invoking Unity with John."

Something flitted deep in her eyes but D'Argo did not want to go there. Did not want to know her thoughts. Aeryn and Zhaan had never been the best of friends. They grated upon each other yet through their feelings for Crichton they had become friends of sorts. A wary truce, a necessary alliance in order for them to function in proximity to each other. A stab of anger and jealousy touched her heart. She shoved it away as irrelevant. What they were doing had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with finding Stark. Discovering what the shaltan hezmana had happened.

* * * * *

Dominar Rygel XVI of Hyneria opened his eyes slowly. He could not account for the feeling of darkness that had touched his heart. He had not been able to eat for arns, a necessary prelude to the Sen. It provided a clear view and kept his thoughts sharp but he was troubled. Roused out of his meditative state by something that he could only describe as evil. He had not felt anything this sinister since Durka. Yet he had risen above that fear, had taken his revenge on his torturer and put the terrible events on board the Zelbinion far behind him. Why was he now reminded of this? Was it relevant? He said a prayer to the Gods then put away his things. It would not do for one of the others to discover he had a religious streak, albeit buried deeper than a budong's heart, always supposing it had one in the first place.

As he exited his quarters he was almost knocked off his thronesled by Chiana running passed in a blind panic. He only just managed to grab hold of her. "What's happening?"

Her eyes were wide and staring. "It's John and Zhaan. They've collapsed and no one can wake them!"

His eyes widened in horror and he let her go. Following in his thronesled, a glum look on his face. <Frell>

* * * * *

He hung chained in darkness, eyes wide with fear. Heart exploding with a longing that was destined to be unfulfilled. Now or ever. He had no tears to cry. Could not reach out to warn Crichton. To tell Zhaan. The shock of seeing them had raised the vain hope that they could free him from this prison but they had been unprepared and that had undone them. He was overcome by pain, his light dimming with sorrow. An anger rising in him that he had to control. In the confines of the box the anger could consume him and that would only do the half-Scarran's job for him. He wanted so desperately to reach Crichton. To touch him, to protect him, to love him always. He tried again to reach his people but his thoughts kept echoing back at him. Empty. Alone. Futile. All he had was the dark to bind him. Slowly, so slowly yet inexorable in its' creeping consumption, the dark edged its way through him. His light flickering from time to time as more of his energy was absorbed. He was getting weaker. Soon he would be starting to fade. It would be too late for him. By the time they found a way to reach him the box would be empty. Reset. For Crichton.

Stark did not know what to do. Desperation deafening him. Every thought wounding him anew with the totality of his frustration. He had never felt so impotent, unable to act. Tears fell in his heart, sorrow swept through him and invaded his mind while he struggled for a way out. Any little glimmer of hope. It was hard when your own light was fading. Your essence slowly dying. Leaving nothing but darkness. As his life's essence began to bleed slowly away he grew calm. Eased the sadness of his thoughts with his love for Crichton and gave himself up to prayer. Entombed by the dark. Where not even love could reach him.

* * * * *
END