TITLE: "THE DARKEST HOUR"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: M/F

RATING: PG-13.

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "THE HEART OF MADNESS"

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

SUMMARY: "The descent into madness continues. Stark looks for Moya and the
hunt is on to save Crichton."

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

"THE DARKEST HOUR"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL


He was back in the chair. The pain was unbearable. His head felt as if it was being reduced to pieces no bigger than subatomic particles. He had never felt closer to dying than right now. Liquifying as he tried to hang on to what was left of his mind. Scorpius looked at him expectantly, his voice maddeningly calm and as smooth and disingenuous as an oil slick. "All you have to do is give me what I want John and this will end."

"Yeah, you get the wormhole technology, I get the basket to put my head in."

Scorpius gave him a stern look. "You do not know the danger you are in, John."

"I know, Scorpy, it's just I can't give you what you want."

He paused, a look of mock sorrow coming over his face. "I'm sorry to hear that, John."

Then the power was being piled back on. Higher and higher. He shook, every cell in his body defying the laws of gravity, the phlegm flying from his mouth, the air rent with sickening screams that bubbled away as everything in his body broke down. The phlegm turning to blood, turning to liquified remains as his body collapsed into a messy puddle of chemicals and water. The only good news in his demise was the fact that Scorpius was covered from head to toe in the last mortal remains of John Robert Crichton Jnr. He hoped he would spend months finding bits of him stuck to his clothing and caught between the leather creases of his mask.

He was laughing. Hard hysterical laughter that hurt his ribcage and brought painful tears to his eyes. A cool hand touched his face, a gentle voice soothed ears that had for too long been denied the sound of her voice. He opened a teary eye and a new grief assailed him. Another battering ram assaulted the walls of his heart with a much more subtle engine of siege. Drawing breath was as painful as forming words to him. His hand trembled violently as he reached out to touch her face. <Oh God, it's solid. I've died, it's solid>

"John? It's alright John, I'm here. I'm never going to leave you again."

He wept as she embraced him. "Mom, oh God Mom, I've missed you so much! Why did you have to leave me and die, why Mom?"

She rocked him gently, one hand stroking his damp hair. "Ssssh, John, it's going to be alright. I love you and nothing can ever change that."

"Mom, I want to go home."

"Shhh," She kissed his forehead and petted his hair. Upset because he was.

For a moment he lost himself in the familiarity of her. The burning pain of wanting something so bad he would have torn himself to pieces to get it.

"You *are* home, John."

His arms held on tight. He was frightened to let go. Terrified that if he did she would be gone and he would lose her all over again. If dying brought her back to him then it wasn't so bad. <Just please God don't let me lose her again. I don't think my heart would survive>

* * * * *

Aeryn was alarmed. Distressed. Jool had done everything she could do for him. When she touched him he either shrank back and cried out as if in terrible agony, or clutched her in a death grip as he called for people she had never heard of. He did not once open his eyes. Aeryn looked at Jool's face, saw the compassion and the sadness there. Knew what it meant but refused to accept that there was nothing they could do for him.

"Let me sit with him a while."

Jool hesitated. "He may become violent..."

Aeryn saw that she had restraining straps in her hands. Big wide leather straps with heavy iron buckles on. She shook her head, anger coursing through her with a power that would brook no argument. "You are *not* tying him up!"

Jool tried to be reasonable. "Aeryn you don't understand..."

But Aeryn did. She had already taken in the bruise on Jool's cheek. The nervousness with which she approached Crichton in his extremis. Knew something of the nightmare visions that haunted him. That tore him apart. But she also knew this. Crichton was her friend. The most important person in her life. The one who gave her own life meaning. His faith had enabled her to leave behind the constrictions of the past and become *more*. To learn what it was to love and be loved in return. She knew she still had so much to learn but she also knew she did not want to learn it from anyone else. If she lost Crichton she would never love again. Her heart ached. Her soul drowing in tears for him. Anger raging that this should be happening to him at all. She did not hear D'Argo come in behind her. For a big man he could be amazingly quiet on his feet. His hands rested gently on her shoulders grounding her. She looked back at him, saw the pain in his eyes and the understanding. His presence calmed her. It was all she needed.

"You can go Jool, D'Argo will sit with me and hold John if he starts to thrash about again."

Jool nodded. She was worn out, needed to rest and take nourishment but more than that she needed a break from the emotional rollercoaster of caring for someone so far out on the edge that she did not know if he could be brought back again. The human's tenuous hold on sanity seemed to have finally snapped.

* * * * *

Chiana was sitting with Rygel in the mess hall. Not so much eating her foodcubes as crumbling them beneath her fingers as she gazed off into space. Rygel was hardly doing any better. Chiana looked at him, her eyes luminous with worry. "Do you think he'll die?"

The Hynerian's voice was gruff as he tried to hide his emotion. "We are all going to die, Chiana."

"I know that, it's just....I mean....now. Is John going to die now?"

He gave her an irritated look. He did not want to have this question. "How the yotz should I know? Do I look like a diagnosian to you?"

Seeing her face fall he was immediately sorry. Patted her arm awkwardly. "The truth is I don't know. John is resiliant Chiana. He has surprised us before."

Chiana shook her head a little trying to keep from crying. "I don't understand, Ryge. Why now? Everything was going right for us, you know? Aeryn was losing her Peace Keeper chip, we hadn't been chased or fired on for monens, and things were - you know - good for once."

Rygel did not correct her. He knew what she meant was from an emotional standpoint not a physical one. They had become family and when one of them was hurt or threatened they all felt the pain. "Perhaps Jool can help him?"

The Nebari bit her lip and dipped her head. She did not think what ailed Crichton could be cured with herbs, potions or a lot of high pitched screaming but she was not about to say so. Jool was doing her best and that was all any of them could ask of her. Rygel patted her arm again and said nothing, his food forgotten. It was Pilot's voice that galvanised the pair of them into actually moving.

"We are being hailed by an unknown vessel. Please come to command at once."

Quickly they hurried along Moya's corridors. As they entered command they saw that D'Argo and Jool were there but there was no sign of Aeryn. That meant she had elected to stay with Crichton. D'Argo was trying to get an image of the craft on screen. "Pilot, did they identify themselves?"

"No, Ka D'Argo."

"Are they armed?"

"Yes but Moya does not detect any powering up of weapons."

"Open a com channel Pilot," Said D'Argo. "It is time to ask them their intentions."

Pilot opened the com.

"Approaching vessel this is the leviathan Moya. Do not come any closer. State your purpose and identify yourself."

There was no response. The ship slowed but did not stop. Annoyed, D'Argo wished he had frag cannons. "You *will* identify yourself or we will launch fighters."

The com crackled then a voice came across in distorted fragments. "Peaceful.....no harm......board.... speak.... Supplies...... Help."

They exchanged glances. D'Argo tried again. "Identify yourself. Now!"

The vessel was heading slowly towards Moya's docking bay. She appeared to be listing. Chiana tilted her head. "Hey, it looks damaged."

Jool looked nervous. "Surely you're not going to let that thing come aboard? It could be anyone."

Rygel seemed amused by her reaction. "John would. He would only need to hear the words *need help* and before you could say *what the yotz are you doing?* he would have the ship docked and our medical supplies ready to treat all and sundry." He snorted but there was a hint of pride and affection in the sound. D'Argo gave the Hynerian a stern look.

"Do not complete that thought, Rygel."

Chiana looked thoughtful. "Yeah, but if they've been damaged, you know - drifting with no one to help them - they could use a little help."

D'Argo was getting angry, frustrated. "We don't know who is on board that ship. It could be a trap."

"Or it could be just what it looks like. A ship in trouble." Chiana paused. "You've got the biggest rifle D'Argo, bring it to the docking bay and let's see what we got."

He was about to protest but somehow did not have the heart. If Aeryn were not sitting with Crichton in the apothecary he knew she would have erred on the side of caution along with him. He sighed and spoke into the com again. "Unknown vessel, you may dock but you are advised to make no sudden moves and to wait until you are told you may step out of your craft."

Static crackled back at them which they chose to decipher as an affirmative. D'Argo led the way, his qualta rifle at the ready, the others following close behind. Truth be told they were actually relieved to have something else to think about apart from the human they wanted to help but could not heal.

* * * * *

It had to be his Dad. Of all the people who hung around to speak to him it would be him. He sucked his bottom lip and looked off across the lake.

"John, this is a big step."

"I know Dad."

"It's not that I don't think you and DK can pull this off..."

His voice trailed away as Crichton lifted his eyes to meet his. Those blue depths seemed to look right through him making him feel so damn uncomfortable.

"Okay," His father admitted. "Maybe there is a little of that," He paused as his son sighed. Same old reservations and arguments.

"Look Dad, it's just a test flight. Nothing more than that. We've been working on this project for years."

"You still have to abide by IASA rules, John. Scientist or not they're gonna treat you like a flight jockey and you'd better be prepared for that."

He nodded. His voice and eyes both calm and steady. "I am, Dad."

In that moment he knew his son really was ready. Had grown up a lot in the last few years. Most of them without seeing much of his father except in newspaper headlines. He looked at him for a long moment, so many emotions going through him. "I'm proud of you, son."

The words almost undid him. His father was not one to heap praise or affection on his children. Especially not his son and heir. The girls were different. They could wrap him around their little fingers and they all knew it. With John it was different. He was expected to walk in his father's footsteps not plough a lonely furrow of his own. The dream of going to the stars was one which connected each Crichton all through history and the latest one to take to the big blue was no exception.

They did not hug or get sentimental. Instead they cracked open a few beers, leaned on the rail and made small talk as they looked out over the water. Tomorrow John would start his quarantine then he would be confined to base and the tension and excitement of getting the Farscape 1 into her maiden launch would begin. Jack Crichton would be on tenderhooks for his son but he would not have had it any other way. His son would only have changed one thing. He would have had his mom there to share in this moment. To stand with his father and sisters and DK while he pursued his dream. To be standing there waiting to pick him up off the deck if he fell flat on his face or to share the champagne toast of success. A tear crept into the corner of his eye but he bit it back.

* * * * *

It was an ugly ship. Looked as if it had been made up of the spare parts other vessels had thrown out. Scavenged and sealed together in a miss-matched hodge podge that hurt the eye. D'Argo could not believe the pilot had got this collection of dren into the air let alone managed to fly it. The seal popped slowly. D'Argo lifted his rifle and waited. A hiss of air escaped then there was the clatter of a rusty landing ramp lowering into place. The footsteps descending down the ramp were heavy, slow and uneven. D'Argo narrowed his eyes and sighted along the rifle for a good clean shot. Chiana tilted her head curiously, trying to see up the ramp. Rygel hovered nervously and Jool was openly terrified. At first D'Argo thought the pilot was dressed in armour that had somehow been melted on to him, then he took an involuntary step back as he saw what looked like marine crustaceans covering his face and every bare bit of skin he could see. In the man's arms he carried a female. She looked young though age was hard to judge in other species. He had never seen a female like this one before. Her face had strips of flesh hanging down like an obscene curtain. She was otherwise humanoid and lithe. Her skin was patchy and flaking with a greenish tinge. She was a lot smaller than the male. He wondered if that meant they were different species or whether he was in some stage of physical transformation. The man stopped at the bottom of the ramp and waited.

D'Argo watched him warily. "Who are you and what do you want?"

The voice sounded rough and ragged but strangely familiar. "Ah Ka D'Argo." The head turned to identify each one of them in turn.

The Luxan felt a sliver of ice run down his back. He tightened his grip on the qualta blade. "Who are you?"

"You do not recognise me and I don't blame you. I am Bialar Crais and this unfortunate is Onyi. She needs emergency medical treatment or she will die!"

* * * * *

The dreams were coming thick and fast now. From one painful memory to another. His trauma deepened, his feeling of being trapped in hell grew. There was no escape. No relief. Just pain and sorrow and heartache. Suddenly the images ended and he was in a large square room, the marble floor shining below his feet, the room almost empty apart from a few oversized sculptures. He recognised the place. As he turned Maldis appeared.

"What do you expect to accomplish, Maldis? Isn't failing twice enough for you?"

"Ah, but I don't intend to fail this time John-boy."

"Isn't there some house that needs haunting?"

Maldis smiled and walked up to him, slowly looked him up and down. "You don't look well, John. Not eating your greens?"

Crichton felt a surge of anger. He was sick of this. "Enough of this crap, Maldis!"

His smile widened into genuine pleasure. His eyes sparked with anticipation. "Not until they're all here."

Crichton felt his heart lurch. "Who?"

"Why your friends of course."

He snapped, lunged at Maldis and roared in frustration. "You keep your damn hands off them! You got a problem with me, here I am!"

Maldis looked happy, amused. Took a moment to savour all the anger coming off the enraged human. "You are so predictable, John."

"What do you do when you can't find any lifeforms to torment?"

He smiled. "Oh, there are always substitutes to be had." He paused to watch Crichton closely. "You for one."

"This won't work, Maldis. Give it up. Go crawl back inside your coffin."

"I always admired that about you, John. Your unfailing faith that you would win in the end. So sad to have come so far, achieved so much only to end up as the main course in my next meal. Still," He added brightly. "Your loss is my gain." He burped, grinned and smiled at him. "Beg your pardon, guv." He said, dropping into a cockney accent. Maldis paused suddenly and cocked his head as if listening to something. "Sorry mate, have to leave you and greet my guests. You know how it is? Ta ta, back soon."

Maldis disappeared. Crichton looked around him slowly, at a loss to know how to fight him. He was so tired and Maldis seemed to be holding all the cards. He put his head in his hands. "Think, John, Think. There *has* to be a way." He sighed and looked up, his eyes red rimmed and bleary. "If only Zhaan were here."

* * * * *

Aeryn looked up in alarm when everybody trooped into the apothecary. Crichton was restless again, sweat pouring off his face, mumbling incoherently and occasionally crying. Nothing she did helped though she tried to convince herself that just being with him was something. She frowned when she saw the two strangers enter. D'Argo left them to be seen to by Jool and went over to explain to Aeryn. His voice was low, gentle even. Aeryn's eyes narrowed. It was the voice D'Argo used when he had bad news to impart.

"Aeryn, a ship hailed us asking for medical help..."

"A ship?"

He nodded. "Yes." He paused feeling uncomfortable. Wishing for all the money in the Uncharted Territories that he did not have to be the one to break this to her. But she had to be told. "Aeryn, it is Crais."

Her eyes widened then she looked as if she was going to laugh outright. "Crais? Did you hit your head D'Argo? Crais is *dead*."

Just then a voice she would have recognised anywhere spoke behind her. "No, I'm not Aeryn."

She spun round expecting a trick. What she saw made her mouth drop in shock and surprise. <Oh frell, it couldn't be> "Crais?"

He nodded. "Hello, Aeryn."

She shook her head, dazed. "You were blown up when Talyn went to Star Burst inside the command carrier. This has to be some kind of trick."

"I can assure you I am quite alive and well."

It took her a few microts to find her voice. He said he was well but to her he looked like a monstrosity. The encrusted shells disfiguring him and making him look grotesque. What in hezmana had happened to him? She pushed such thoughts from her mind and hesitated to ask the one question she wanted to know most of all. "What about Talyn?"

This time Crais hesitated, his voice tinged in pain. "He didn't make it, Aeryn."

Aeryn felt tears prick her eyes. "How did you... I mean..."

"It's alright Aeryn, I will explain everything after we see to Onyi."

She looked puzzled. "Onyi?"

Even though she could not see his face she heard the smile of pride and affection in his voice. That was a wonder in itself. "Yes, Aeryn. My wife."

"Peace Keepers don't have wives, Crais, you know that!" She blurted out without thinking. Afterwards she wanted to kick herself for being so insensitive.

"I am not a Peace Keeper any more, Aeryn. Any more than you are."

She bit her tongue and watched as his eye was drawn to where Crichton lay. "What happened to John?"

She shook her head, trying hard not to cry. "We don't know but he's getting weaker and we can't find out what's wrong or wake him up." She sucked in a breath. Her eyes looked bleak and fearful. "I think he's dying..."

* * * * *
END