TITLE: "THE HEART OF MADNESS"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/D'ARGO

RATING: NC-17

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "DESCENT INTO DARKNESS"

WEBSITE: http://www.carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Stark is on the brink of losing Zhaan. The crew of Moya fear they are losing Crichton. Meanwhile a single cause is bringing together a maelstrom."

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

"THE HEART OF MADNESS"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

It was while they were merged that the first sign that all was not perhaps as it should be filtered through to Stark. The dark blurring of Zhaan's spiritual essence grieved him, made his heart flutter with unreasoning panic. "Zhaan! What is it? What is happening?"

"Something... is... wrong."

The merging began to fragment. Stark was beside himself. "No, no, no, mustn't happen, can't happen..."

"Stark!"

"Yes, yes, I'm here Zhaan."

"I can't hold on."

He was almost in tears, his light now losing grip of her. His mind struggling to maintain contact though he knew she was still with him. "What's happening? Zhaan, Zhaan?"

"Go back, have to go back..."

The light was sparking now. Dimming and dividing despite his best efforts. "No! Don't go, Zhaan. I *need* you!"

Fainter and fainter he could feel her presence fading from him, hear the sweetness of her beloved voice becoming more distant. "Go....back...Stark..."

Tears rolled down his stricken face. "Back where? Zhaan!" His cry almost broke her heart. "Don't leave me, Zhaan...!"

* * * * *

He was working on his module when he heard a noise behind him. Crichton turned to see Aeryn walking towards him. A smile automatically formed on his lips then froze there as her lips drew back in a mocking snarl. "I thought I'd find you here you deficient little man."

Crichton tilted his head. Disbelief making his jaw sag. "*What* did you call me?"

"You heard or is your hearing defective as well?"

Well. *That* was clear enough. "Aeryn, what is the matter with you?"

She began to walk round him, a strut in her stride that he found distracting almost as much as her words but for different reasons. "What is the matter with *me*?" She laughed but it was humourless, scathing. "You really are pathetic, do you know that?"

He just looked at her, stunned. Her words taking cracks at his heart that he was powerless to fend off.

"You keep playing around with this piece of dren, dreaming of going back through some stupid wormhole to your primative homeworld. You are a coward John Crichton and I can't understand what in the name of Cholok I ever saw in you!"

"Aeryn, I..."

"Shut up you bartantic little man."

He could feel himself getting angry, tried to hold it back, to reason out just what the hell was going on. He had never seen Aeryn like this. Not without reason anyway and he was pretty sure he had not fouled up enough to warrant this little diatribe. "Aeryn, if there's something you need to talk about..."

She laughed harshly at him. Her attitude becoming more hard edged and beligerant by the microt. He felt uncomfortable seeing her slowly psyche herself up into full PK mode. "Talk? That is *all* you ever do, Crichton, all you are capable of. Why don't you crawl back to your pathetic little planet and stop wasting my time?"

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than she struck. Chest, abdomen, neck. The blows coming thick and fast, catching him unawares and bringing him painfully to his knees. He looked up, sure that if he could just get her to listen she would ease off and they could clear up this misunderstanding. Looking up had been a big mistake. Her next kick hit him full in the face with such force he heard the crack as his nose broke and the blood splattered. Just a fraction of a microt before his whole world went was swallowed in darkness.

* * * * *

Chiana was frantic. "What do you mean his heartbeat is eratic?"

Jool tried to ease Chiana back so she could get a closer look at Crichton. Having Aeryn and D'Argo both speaking at once did not help either. The whole place had turned into a mad house. Rygel cleared his throat trying to restore some order. "Let's not panic. I'm sure Jool is doing everything she can, we just have to be patient."

"Patient?" Said Aeryn incredulously.

Jool looked up anxiously. "That's it, everybody OUT!"

Aeryn shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere..."

"Yes, you are, you ALL are! I can't do anything for John while you are all in here yelling at each other so out you go..." She paused to address Pilot. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Joolusko?"

"I need quiet in here so I can help John. I am throwing everybody else out, please ask Moya to see to it that nobody is allowed to enter unless I authorise it."

D'Argo's face began to darken with rage, Chiana began to argue, Aeryn was ready to tear every last shred of hair out of Jool's head. Oddly enough Rygel came to her defence. "Jool is right, we are not helping."

Everybody looked at him. Stunned. Jool wondered what he was up to. "That means you too, Rygel."

He nodded. "I realize that. Just do what you can to help him."

She nodded warily in case it was some kind of trap but saw the concern in the Hynerian's eyes and held back any smart comment she might have made. Instead she nodded her thanks then made them all leave and shut the door. Pilot ensured it was locked. His worried voice echoed over the com to her. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Joolusko?"

"No thanks, Pilot."

The com went off and Jool checked on Crichton. His heartbeat was way too eratic. He seemed to be distressed. Jool sorted through the collection of herbs and preparations, her eyes flicking back to Crichton every couple of microts to check how he was doing. It was odd how this much maligned creature seemed to be such a stabilising and unifying force aboard Moya. What was it about humans that made them so endearingly annoying? She looked at him for a microt, saw that he was sweating, starting to mumble something she could not catch. His temperature was rising. Jool administered a sedative to ease his distress then began to take blood samples.

* * * * *

He awoke somewhere dark and confining. Where the hell was he? Then he heard the bellowing of the Luxan and remembered. Yeah, Luxan hyper rage was a bitch. He could feel his heart thudding, trying frantically to find a hiding place where he could wait out his friend's anger. He scrambled further along the duct, his ears tuned to the stomping about of his former friend. After half an arn of running, or more correctly crawling, everything went quiet. He was perspiring heavily now. Hiding behind a vent, trying to see into the corridor whether it was safe to come out and maybe move to another tier. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just beautiful peaceful silence. He carefully removed the grill then paused. Listened. Hardly daring to breathe. A slow smile sailed the curve of his lips. He had given the big guy the slip.

Crichton did not realise his mistake until he had exited the vent and replaced the cover. As he turned a massive body rammed into him knocking all the air out of his terrified lungs. <Oh crap. D'Argo!> Fear raced inside him, the Luxan pinned him up against Moya's wall. He opened his mouth to speak, to try and calm him down. "Hey D'Argo, whatever I did to piss you off I'm sorry..."

D'Argo shoved his face close. "Shut. Up. Crichton!"

He snapped his mouth closed as those huge hands pulled him away from the wall then slammed him back against the wall of the leviathan again. So hard it stunned him. Pain shot through him momentarily with confusion and fear hot on its' heels. There was a madness in the Luxan's eyes that he definitely did not like. The eyes became cloudier not clearer. D'Argo's voice became hoarser, as if he had been shouting for arns. "I have been searching for you for *three* solar days, Crichton." He accused in an angry low rumble.

"Yeah, well terrifying the life out of me is *not* the way to bring me out of hiding, big guy."

D'Argo was looking at him strangely, then Crichton became aware that the Luxan's hands were wandering. A bit too intimately for comfort.

"Uh D'Argo, shouldn't you be looking for Chiana?"

What focus D'Argo had was leaving his eyes. <Uh oh, not good>

"Hey D, stay with me here. You do not *want* to do this."

D'Argo was not listening. He had Crichton pinned, seemed to be checking him over in the sort of detail that would be embarrassing if the doctor did it let alone his erstwhile friend. Then D'Argo completely flipped him out. He paused with one large hand settling on Crichton's crotch and smiled at him as if he had just found the Holy frelling Grail. Crichton tried to keep the panic at bay. He had to stay calm. This was not happening. Not going to happen either.

"D'Argo, I'm a guy, you do not want to go hitting on guys. Trust me."

"You are male." Said D'Argo in an odd voice, inhaling the human's scent. "A rival." His breath seemed to be getting heavier, his hand undoing Crichton's clothing while the other hand held him firm against the wall, a couple of feet off the ground. The hand slid down his stomach to hold and stroke him. Crichton trembled, tried to struggle but that just seemed to focus the big guy's attention even more. The strokes of his hand more demanding.

He tried to disuade him with the last of his humour. "D...don't touch the wedding tackle, D."

Crichton was finding it difficult to breathe as D'Argo experimented with the pressure of his hand making his breath catch. This was beyond awkward. It was fast going beyond embarrassing too. Filling his head with the sort of images not even the lunatics in the asylum had thought up yet. His head was spinning with the unreality of it all. He realised that this was what he had been secretly afraid of when the Luxan had first gone into hyper rage and started to hunt him down. Not getting beaten up so much as frelled to death. "Yeah, D, male. You....you need a female, got it? Other gender, buddy. You need to go find a female...preferably your own species, you know, definitely not..."

That was when D'Argo put an end to his babbling and kissed him. On the frelling mouth. Crichton could not pull away, his back was to the wall - literally - and he was pinned by the Luxan's superior body weight. The amazing prehensile tongue delved deep into his mouth, rubbing exotic secretions slowly into his own tongue and painting the inside walls of his mouth making him dizzy as the chemicals began to interact with the human's body chemistry and work their way deep into his system. He could feel himself getting hotter, light headed. Could sense the Luxan getting more and more aroused. Could feel himself on the brink of passing out. <Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap...>

As if sensing this, D'Argo eased off him a little allowing him to gulp air into his struggling lungs, momentarily too relieved to get oxygen flowing back to his brain to absorb the full extent of the Luxan's progress. D'Argo eased Crichton's legs around his waist and was getting ready to penetrate him, using the wall to brace himself against the human. Panic flooded the human's mind as it continued to fragment and lose touch with reality. Unable to cry out or speak because of the Luxan's tongue in his mouth. He writhed and tried to resist but as the Borg would say resistance was futile. His thoughts were becoming foggy. He could feel something alien snaking down passed his belly and touching him in places that were making him jerk and tremble. The Luxan was searching for the opening his questing hand had found only microts before. Eyes closed Crichton tried to pretend it wasn't happening. Faint laughter echoing in a cruel staccato in his mind, lapping at his fear and weakening him further as the snaking head entered him. Defiled. His humanity ripped out of him by alien lusts that were more about establishing the pecking order than ensuring the survival of the species. Oh yeah, that made him feel a hell of a lot better. Way to go, D'Argo. But the laughter inside his head did not belong to the Luxan.

* * * * *

Jool was worried. He was wimpering now. She got something that looked like a sponge and immersed it in water then bathed his face and neck. His mouth sagged open and he groaned. Was that in pleasure or pain? Jool was not sure. She paused and looked at him then saw him frown. Pain then. She sighed, got something for his pain and administered it. He did not settle down for several microts. When he did it was like letting air out of a bag. She sat and just looked at him. This strange human creature called John Crichton. Baffled she had no idea whatsoever how to help him.

* * * * *

Onyi did not have to think twice about going with him. She would have done anything he asked her to no matter how bartantic it might sound. Whatever the yotz he wanted she would give. He gave her a dark smile and she felt herself go weak at the knees. Was this really happening? Had she finally found someone who would care about her, care for her, and whom she could care for in return? It was rare among her species but that did not mean to say it was not something for which they craved. Her in particular. She did not ask where he was taking her. Did not want him to think twice about it in case he decided to leave her on her home planet. Home planet. Anything had to be better than the life she had been living. The life she would be doomed to repeat until she died. *If* she stayed. A slow smile made a fleeting appearance then vanished when she realised he was watching her. She waited for him to tell her what he wanted. How she could best serve him.

He walked slowly, such power and grace in his carriage. If she looked into his eyes she completely forgot about his disfigurement. The shell encrusted body a minor detail in something far more powerful that seemed to be going on between them. Something she wanted to encourage. To cling to with all her might before the veil of death ripped it away from her. His touch was gentle. "How do you feel, Onyi?"

She wanted to say ecstatic, delirious with happiness, at peace, fulfilled. But she did not want him to think her gloating. Assuming emotions that might not mirror his own. Caution had fed and clothed her all the cycles of her life, why should it be different now? "I am well."

Her careful answer seemed to amuse him. His hand lightly danced over her face, careful not to pull on the strips of flesh that hung there. "Only well, Onyi?"

A tiny frown began to settle. He gently brushed the frown away and teased her with a kiss. Her heart skipped several beats. What was this? He made her feel like garova lak, a jelly like sensation in the bones of the skeleton. "I... uh.... I am not used to this... feeling."

The way she said it made him smile. He kissed her properly eliciting a response directly proportionate to his touch, as if she needed him to lead her into whatever would follow. He eased his lips from hers slowly and she felt immediately bereft. "What do you want, Onyi?" He asked quietly, his deep voice rumbling through her.

Nervous now she was almost afraid to look at him. He tilted her head in his hands. "Onyi?"

"I want you," She whispered.

He chuckled darkly and kissed her again. "I must leave. Come with me."

She nodded. Her heart in kaltaka, the rezni equivalent of paradise. "I am yours."

"No Onyi, you are not mine. You are not a possession. Not ever again!"

She was surprised by the passion in his voice, touched by what it meant. Easing her body against his she sighed into his waiting mouth and this time initiated contact. He let her kiss him, accepted the gift and drew her up into his arms as he kissed her back. Deeply. With feeling. "Thank you, Onyi." He said softly.

"What for, my love?"

"For making me feel again. For completing the hollow space in my soul."

She did not understand him yet instinctively she had always understood him. "Where are we going?"

"First I must heal enough to have no more need of the tartankan shells..."

That surprised her. The condition was not natural? He looked deep into her eyes and divined what she was thinking. "You thought I always looked like this?"

Puzzled she gently touched the encrusted shells that clung to his face like armour. "Yes."

His voice was gentle, not mocking. "And you?"

"My people survived a terrible war. What you see is the aftermath born in the flesh."

He felt something cold touch his heart. "You are sick?"

She shook her head. "No, just damaged." She wanted to add *but we were the lucky ones*. Something kept that thought silent. He did not need to know about the terrible war which had unleashed the power of a dozen suns on their once green and lush world propelling them into a nuclear winter and poisoning everything above ground for a thousand centuries. Onyi had a feeling he would have understood but she did not want anything approaching pity to mar his understanding of her.

"I do not know your species well, Onyi."

She laughed. He marvelled at how beautiful it sounded. How greedily he drank in her joy like a waterfall washing over him and clensing the darkness from his heart. He had been alone too long. Grieved too long. Now it was time to step back out into the light and take up the reins of his life. "I know yours not at all," She countered. "At first I thought you were Sebacean."

"I *am* Sebacean."

A pause. She considered him. "What happened?"

He smiled but she could not see it, only sense it in the rich cadence of his voice. "An overdose of stupidity that I will not repeat in a hurry."

Onyi fell silent and let him operate the modest ship. Feeling no sense of sorrow as her home world fell away beneath her feet and a new world opened tentatively before her. She looked deep into her lover's eyes and for the first time in her hard dispirited life, was content.

* * * * *

Stark was frantic. Desperately trying to find Moya and get help for Zhaan. He retraced their journey back to where they had last left the leviathan. Naturally, Moya was no longer there. Stark sank to his knees, tears of sorrow and frustration rolling down his face.

*Do not cry, my beloved*

He lifted his face in awe, such love and hope shone there. "Zhaan?"

No response. He felt panic again. "Zhaan? Don't leave me, answer me!"

*I am with you Stark, always with you...*

"What is happening?"

*Something terrible we have to stop*

He was confused. "Stop?"

Her thoughts were fragmenting, hard to touch or absorb even with a mind as evolved as his own. "Stop? What do we have to stop, Zhaan?"

Silence. His mind echoed only with his own pleading thoughts. Heart racing. His hands trembled on the ship's controls. Slowly he got himself together and began the job of tracking down Moya's movements. Instinct telling him he would find no answers anywhere else.

* * * * *
END