TITLE: "THE KEY"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/STARK

RATING: NC-17. M/M. *SLASH*

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

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

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

It was so utterly dark. So devoid of any redeeming feature. Yet songs without words, music without form, light without vision, lifted his soul and bore him ever upward. How he knew this he did not know. Life or death was irrelevant when every means to measure them by was denied to him. He knew only that what he had thought, what he had dreamed of, had not even reached the realms of a pale echo of what was. Truth really did outmatch reality. In every sense of the word.

* * * * *

Zhaan wanted to keep them connected so that entering would not leave them floundering. Crichton she had faith in to adhere to her presence however diaphanous it might become. As for Aeryn, her own strength of will could be her undoing. Sensing the thought, Aeryn recoiled from her. Crichton's presence touched her so gently it was like a mental cobweb brushing her senses. Warmth eased her too ready irritation and soothed that which had never known how to be gentle. He was a balm more addictive than any alcohol or drug. Whether he knew it or not he was the air she breathed. Now, in this dark benighted place where they had lost Stark, he was the only compass she still trusted.

<Aeryn. Listen to Zhaan>

<I don't know if I can>

<Fail and we all fail>

Aeryn felt a deep sorrow scour her heart, a touch of shame awakening her sense of responsibility. She was giving in to selfishness when what was required was a total commitment of self sacrifice. <I'm sorry>

She felt Zhaan's acceptance. Crichton's happiness and pride. It made her feel better, more determiined to keep her focus. Then the fingers of the dark laced their seductive evil through her thoughts and made her shiver. Ribbons of fear locked her thoughts in limbo. Crichton felt the change like a drop in temperature, a sudden siezure of the heart that struck him like instinct. Alarm bells rang. <Aeryn?>

She could not reply. Her mind struck out blindly as if she was drowning. His thoughts cushioned her panic, his warmth breathing life back into a mind struck by an agony of lost sensations that was more terrifying than feeling too much. Zhaan was calm, concerned, soliticious. <What happened?>

<I...I don't know. I felt trapped, frozen, unable to move or communicate with you>

Zhaan felt Crichton's thought as clearly as if it were her own. <Scorpius is closer than we thought>

He did not hear or feel the fell laughter. Scorpius watched, listened, and begged audience with the shadows that defined the limit of his clandestine existence. He tweaked Aeryn's subconscious enough for her to send out a mental cry. As expected Crichton was with her in an instant, his presence seeking to soothe her, give comfort and define the nature of the threat. That he could not see or feel it was not the point. Something was frightening Aeryn and he would not allow that to continue. The clone was amused. <Just a little closer>

<I'm alright, John. I don't know what's the matter with me>

Crichton said nothing. He had his suspicions. <Come on Aeryn, we have to go deeper>

He felt her quail but then in the same instant fortify her will to go on. He felt so damn proud of her. Knew Stark would too. He felt Zhaan brush his thoughts. <Yes, Zhaan?>

<The box. It is just in front of us, can you sense it?>

He reached out with his thoughts. Slowly extending his feelings until the smooth plane of the box prevented him going further. He could not see it with his mind, yet he could touch it with his senses. Feel the shape of it even as he wondered how they would trace Stark. He stretched his thoughts out to Zhaan. <What do we do now?>

Just at that moment the side of the box he was examining disolved. Without thinking he drifted into the space and began to feel his way around. Empty. The sensation of loss was so profound that it took him a microt to realise that it was really a very confined space. He turned his thoughts and made sure there was nothing before coming back to the others. He reached out mentally. Nothing. He tried to sense their presence. Nothing. A feeling of unease began to grow as he tried to reach either Aeryn or Zhaan but it was as if he were the only one there. The box was closed again. He could feel the side that had vanished at his touch now solid again. He thought about what it meant. Tried to still the rising panic. The box was closed. Sealed like some exotic invisible tomb. The trouble was, he was now trapped inside it.

* * * * *

Their bodies lay sprawled on the cushions in the apothecary. The two DRDs watched over them quietly, light stalks swaying gently as they drifted their inbuilt visual sensors over the three people now in the thrall of Unity. Blue was next to Crichton and noticed a change in the human's demeanour. He seemed to be getting distressed. Blue turned all his attention on him, anxious little sounds spilling out as he noticed signs of deep anxiety and trauma. He alerted Moya and Pilot. He was worried. Afraid. The other DRD trilled at him from the side of Zhaan, assuring Blue that Zhaan and Aeryn appeared to be alright but Blue was hardly taking in his input. He rolled close to the human's side, biomechanoid surface agaiinst the human's cooling mortal flesh. Why was his temperature falling? He chittered anxiously to Moya. Moya sent a directive to Pilot.

* * * * *

Chiana had not been sleeping. Brief snatches of nightmares were what passed for the sleep cycle. Pilot's request was actually welcome though her heart was hammering inside her at the anxious tone in his voice. She did not walk but ran. As she neared the apothecary she saw D'Argo and Rygel also making their way, their grim expressions not reassuring her in the slightest. Neither looked as if they had slept any better than she had. When they got inside they noticed that both Zhaan and Aeryn appeared to be sleeping but Crichton had become very still indeed, his lips starting to turn blue with cyanosis. Was that natural? She did not know.

"Pilot, what is wrong with them?" Asked D'Argo.

"Zhaan and Aeryn appear to be still in the trance state referred to as Unity."

"And John?"

"Moya is not sure but a few microts ago he became distressed then his temperature started to fall. Moya is afraid he is no longer in Unity."

Rygel shook himself. "What? How the yotz did that happen?"

"Moya does not know, but she is concerned for Commander Crichton."

Chiana touched Crichton's face and recoiled. "He's freezing!"

D'Argo checked. Chiana was right. The human was losing body heat so quickly it was dangerous. "We need to keep him warm. Chiana. Get blankets, plenty of them."

The Nebari nodded and ran out of the apothecary to get some. D'Argo looked down at his friend's face and gently shook his head. His hand touching the cold cheek, his eyes sorrowful. "Why does everything have to happen to you?" He whispered softly.

"Because he's a frelling human, that's why." Grumbled Rygel, but not unkindly. "Scorpius is obssessed with finding the wormhole technology."

D'Argo looked at Rygel. "Yes but he has the chip. He should not be torturing John any longer. This has got to be stopped."

"Agreed but how? We don't even know what he's done to him so how do we put it right?"

The Luxan sighed. "I do not know."

He looked at Zhaan and Aeryn. "Pilot. Have you checked Zhaan and Aeryn's vital signs?"

"Yes, Ka D'Argo, and they are stable."

"Body temperatures?"

"Normal for their species."

D'Argo nodded and looked at Crichton. "As I thought, this is directed at John."

Rygel eased his throne sled nearer, ignoring the momentary alarm of the little DRD almost standing guard alongside Crichton. "What about Stark?"

At that point Chiana ran in laden down with blankets which she hurriedly started to wrap around the human. Rygel frowned. "I hope none of those came from *my* quarters."

"Don't worry your flatulence, no one would want to borrow anything of yours." Growled D'Argo.

Rygel opened his mouth to say he had not meant it like that then closed his mouth. What was the use? Luxans had little or no sense of humour anyway. How would they even begin to understand irony? "Stark." He said. "We still don't know what happened to him."

"I think he's dead, Rygel." Said D'Argo.

Chiana said nothing. It was her fear as well. She knelt beside Crichton and stroked his forehead, hoping the blankets would somehow help. She noticed the little DRD and gave him a faint smile. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Chiana?"

"Isn't there anything Moya can do to help?"

They all heard the deep regret and sorrow in Pilot's voice. "Moya regrets she can do nothing except monitor their life signs. She is as anxious as the rest of us."

D'Argo looked down at his three friends. "What happened?" He whispered quietly.

* * * * *

Crichton was wondering the same thing. His mind in turmoil. The darkness creeping through him on icy fingers. Dread inched it's way to his heart while his mind reeled with the implications of this prison. <I'm not gonna get outta here, am I? This is what you did to Stark?>

The laughter was so quiet at first that he thought he had imagined it, then the sound amplified as if the source was drawing nearer to him. He tried to block out the intense feeling of panic.

<John! How nice of you to join me>

Scorpy! What that hell....? <What're you doing here?>

The clone chuckled disingenuously. <Is that any way to talk to your saviour?>

<Saviour?> He almost choked on the very notion. <The only person you care about is yourself>

The clone gave a smug smile. <Of course. As it *should* be>

<You didn't answer my question. What're you doing here?>

<Keeping you company>

<I don't need any company. Leastways not *that* kind of company>

The clone's hideous smile actually grew. His projected image dancing around inside the confines of Crichton's mind while sharing the box with him. This was *far* too close for comfort. <I know *exactly* what type of company you like, John>

A horrible thought occurred to Crichton, one he tried to keep out of his mind but there was no hiding anything from the clone. He immediately transformed his features into those of Aeryn Sun. Crichton felt rage rise up in a formless bile inside him. <Stop that!>

<Stop what, John?> Asked Scorpy with Aeryn's voice, her image reaching out to touch him in the remembered caresses the clone had stolen from his mind.

He screamed. Every atom of his mental body tensed to defy the intrusion, block out the machinations of Scorpius's abomination but all to no avail. He could not even close his eyes for they were gifts of his sleeping flesh. Now that flesh, like his mind, was in thrall to this hideous apparition from hell.

<Do you want me to *entertain* you, John?>

<Get the hezmana out of my frelling head!>

The clone seemed amused, drawing an Aeryn-like finger down the ghost of his vibrating flesh. Phantom hands and features frelling with his mind here in the very heart of madness. <Leave me alone!> He pleaded, but no mercy echoed back to him. Instead the phantom hand was joined by phantom lips, the obscenity stroking the planes of his mind with sweet remembrances that now burned every thought they touched in remembered flesh. He had to give Scorpy this, he was nothing if not a thorough bastard. Terrified and trapped, he could not think of a way out or a way to endure this violation.

Crichton tried so hard to think of other things, anything but what the Scarran half-breed's clone was doing to him. He could feel his talon like nails scrape slowly up the inside of his leg, touches of his tongue dancing on his flesh, toying with him as he was kissed, licked, nipped gently and suckled, but with the familiarity of Aeryn breathing passion into his resisting lungs. Then he sensed Stark. <Oh God, he was going to use Stark as well. Rot in hell Scorpius, why don't you? Be my frelling guest>

He was trembling so bad with the desperate effort to establish some kind of control, to prevent himself responding but the clone had access to all his memories, his emotions, his most intimate thoughts. All now handy implements of torture. The clone was in his element and Crichton was falling. Falling into a darkness formed in ice, a complete and utter damnation so profound that the most painful of deaths would have been preferable.

* * * * *

Aeryn was crying. Not in tears but the emotion of the heart. It was bleeding out of her and affecting Zhaan. The Delvian tried to calm her. <This isn't helping, Aeryn>

<How can you be so damn calm, Zhaan? Can't you see what's happened? He's got John, trapped in that frelling box>

<Yes, Aeryn, but you have the key. Remember?>

Silence. Utter. Stunned. Then a gradual coming to the senses. Tentative thoughts reaching out to the Delvian Pa'u, hardly daring to believe. <Stark said I was the Key but he didn't explain how>

She felt Zhaan smile in her mind. Impossibly it freed her mind to think. <There is only one Key I can think of that could open a lock such as this. Love>

<Love?>

<Yes>

Aeryn hesistated. <Are you saying I have to love the box open?>

<Unless you have another way?>

Aeryn said nothing. Her notion of reality had changed a thousandfold since coming to Moya anyway. What was one more incomprehensible step among so many others? <Okay, Zhaan> A pause. <H...how do I do this?>

Laughter, bright, gentle, so light it weighed nothing at all stole a smile from her heart. <Join with me child, and we will do this together>

* * * * *
END