TITLE: "BALANCING SOULS"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: No specific pairing

RATING: PG-13

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "THE DARKEST HOUR"

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

SUMMARY: "Aeryn is terrified of losing Crichton but no one seems to know what to do and time is running out."

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

"BALANCING SOULS"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

Jool had difficulty checking on Onyi. At every step there was Crais hovering. It was driving her mad. She gave him a level look. "Crais, either move back and let me do my job or leave."

"I can't, I'm worried about her..."

"How will you preventing me from doing anything help her?"

That floored him. She was right. He reluctantly stepped back, the distance he was giving seemed to be prised from his heart and soul. Jool's voice softened just a fraction before she turned away from him to give all her attention to Onyi. "After I have finished with your wife I want to take a good look at you."

"I am well, I do not need your services." He said flatly. Then in an awkward brusque tone, "Thank you."

Jool hid a smile, and got to work on the woman. Once she was able to start taking readings of her vital signs she was surprised to find them so strong. She checked her thoroughly and when she raised her head at last found herself looking directly into Crais's eyes. "Your wife is fine..."

Anger began to roll off him in waves. "How can you say that? Look at her! Does she *look* fine?"

Jool threw away any pretence at humouring him. Her calm unruffled manner stealing the thunder away from him as he collapsed back into his fear. She gave him a gentle smile. "Onyi *is* fine, Crais. Just pregnant."

Stunned he did not say anything for a moment. His mind scanning back over the time they had been together. The monens spent in his makeshift vessel, the many days and nights of passion when they had both been insatiable. Making love everytime he bathed which now was three or four times every solar day. It was the only time the crustaceans would slip off his body and give him that freedom. Not that he did not owe them his life. He did and they knew it. Pregnant. He raised shining eyes to meet Jool's, needing to know she was not mocking him. "She is with child?"

"Yes. You are going to be a father."

He did not hear anything else. Aeryn, D'Argo, Chiana and Rygel looked across from Crichton's bed and exchanged looks of surprise then pleasure. Aeryn was touched to see how obviously he cared for the woman he called his wife. Who was she? How had they met? And how in hezmana had he come to be covered in blood sucking shells? What kind of dren had he been going through while they had mourned his warrior's death? A soft moan drew her eyes back to a more pressing concern. Crichton was trying to wake up, she was sure of it. D'Argo placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Whether for moral support or to prevent him lashing out if he got violent again she did not know. At least Chiana had stopped crying. Aeryn drew her chair nearer, her hands holding his.

"John? Can you hear me? It's Aeryn."

His lips moved and he mumbled, appearing to respond to the sound of her voice. She leaned close, her ear to his mouth.

"Go.....get away..."

He did not sound angry. If anything his whispered words were full of concern, anxiety, distress. With a jolt she realised he was worrying about *her*. The thought touched her. Brought the threat of tears to her proud eyes. She bit her lip. "I am not going anywhere, John. You need to wake up."

Another mumble, harder to decipher this time but she thought she caught the word "can't".

Then he was frowning, breathing becoming rapid. Face creased in pain. She looked at D'Argo on the other side of Crichton's bed. Both worried. Chiana looked from one to the the other. "What? What did he say?"

Rygel hovered a little closer and for several microts was lost in thought. His eyes on the human. "This reminds me of the time we thought he'd died on that planet. When the magician had caught him. We almost gave him funeral rites aboard Moya."

D'Argo shot the Dominar a look of disbelief. "Maldis?" He heard Aeryn suck in a sharp breath but did not look at her. He was looking at Rygel. They all were. "Why would you think it was Maldis?"

The Hynerian moved closer. Now he was next to Chiana. He never took his eyes off the human's face, a tendril of fear running down their spines as he replied in a worried tone. "Because now he is weeping blood."

The others immediately looked down at Crichton and sure enough two distinct trails of blood were running down his cheeks from his eyes. Chiana put her hand over her mouth and began crying again. Aeryn looked in shock. D'Argo was lost. This was completely beyond his area of expertise.

"The last time I saw anything like this," Continued Rygel quietly. "Was when Maldis had him. He was fighting for his life and none of us could reach him. I remember being told that if he was injured in the other place his body would show the same injury, the same physical scars. He would also endure the same pain."

Jool came hurrying over leaving Crais to sit with Onyi. What she saw made her freeze. She had only caught the tail end of what Rygel said but it told her enough. They had seen this phenomenon before. They would be able to give her valuable information about how he had got like this and what she needed to do to save him. She looked expectantly at their faces, the hope in her heart faltering at the despair in their eyes. Looking down at her hapless patient she saw him seem to sag, his breathing becoming more regular as he drifted off to sleep. They were in the middle of the sleep cycle and nothing had been resolved. No wiser now than the microt they realised something was wrong with Crichton. Jool looked at the sad sea of faces. They were all tired, weary beyond words. Maybe not so much in the physical sense but mentally they looked drained.

"John will sleep for some arns now. It is what he needs. I suggest you all do the same."

The flurry of protests meant nothing to Jool. "I will have Pilot com you the microt there is any change."

Aeryn's mouth set in a tight line. "I will stay."

Jool shook her head. Firm but gentle. A nice balancing act if you could pull it off. "No, Aeryn. You will all go and finish the sleep cycle." She paused. "It is *not* a suggestion."

Tears shone in Aeryn's eyes. How could Jool ask her to leave him? Like this? Jool tried another approach, her voice pitched into a gentler tone. "Let me put it this way, Aeryn. John is going to need you *all* to be strong for him so you take your lead from him, okay? When he sleeps, *you* sleep. Got it?"

They looked at her. Aeryn seemed so lost that Jool felt her heart warm towards her. She really did love the human after all. For some reason Jool felt that mattered a great deal. Aeryn pinned Jool with a look as hard as granite. Her eyes like flints drilling into those of the Interon. "Very well, but you will call me the microt, and I mean *the* microt anything happens do you hear me? If you do not there is not a planet, an asteroid, a piece of dren big enough in all the Uncharted Territories for you to hide from my wrath."

* * * * *

Stark was anxious. Trying not to panic. Where was Zhaan? Why had she left him? He only had part of his attention on where he was going. The onboard computer had picked up what could be the trail of the leviathan on ship's sensors so he changed course to follow.

"Zhaan, can you hear me?"

The silence enveloped him but something *did* touch him deep inside. He desperately wanted to meditate, to try to find her, but she had been most specific. *Find Moya*. So that was what he would do. His mind began to wander, wondering what was wrong. Had something happened to the leviathan? To Pilot? He knew Zhaan had formed very deep bonds with Pilot and Moya. For a time she had been both their guide and protector. Who would look after them now? He tried to shove the thought aside. Not his problem. Theirs. Yet something pricked at his conscience when he did that. It was his problem, would always be his problem because of Zhaan. She cared about them. Cared about them all. Stark cared but not in such an intense unbroken fashion that his beloved did. His feelings were just as strong as hers, at times more so, but there was also a pragmatism that allowed him to move on to other things, explore other options, when he was not with them. Zhaan always seemed to carry a piece of the others with her wherever she went. They were ties of love that could pull her back from time to time. He trapped a little sigh and wondered who was in trouble now. It was just at that microt that the ships' computer bleeped and informed him that the leviathan was less than a thousand metras ahead of him.

"On screen," He murmured as he initiated the monitor. The familiar organic lines of the leviathan caused his eyes to mist for a microt. He opened a com to Pilot. As he did so a beautiful warmth stole into his heart and cradled his soul with light. Zhaan.

* * * * *

The foul malodorous breath caught in his throat and burned him wherever it touched. He tried to pull back as his eyes opened a crack revealing the hideous leer of his enemy. The claws dug into his throat, his feet hanging off the ground, his body wracked with pain from the incessant torture. The Scarran shook him so hard his eyes rattled in his head like peas in a drum. He was so sick of being in pain.

"Scorpiusss thinks you will give him the wormhole technology." The Scarren hissed.

His grip on Crichton's throat increased. The human was gagging now, not with the strench but from lack of air to his lungs. "He is *wrong*." Insisted the Scarren in a voice shaded with evil. A promise of death if ever there was one.

<Yeah, dead wrong. Dead men don't tell tales you jerk>

The Scarran eased off a little and narrowed his eyes at the human. Such a puny pathetic thing. How had this creature managed what the rest of them had not? What secrets did his species hold? Perhaps if he could make it talk he could find out other things. "You will tell *me*, Crich-ton."

He fought to form words then force them out of his restricted throat. "I can't give them to you. I can't give them to *anybody*, don't you understand?"

Anger flared in the chitinous bulk of the Scarren errupting in a howl of rage as he threw the human across the room. He struck the bulkhead of the dreadnought so hard that the chamber rang like a bell. The Scarren swore in his own tongue then stormed over to where he lay. He gripped the top of Crichton's head with one huge clawed hand and lifted him off the floor. The human had tears of blood slowly trickling from his eyes. Had squeezed them shut as if he could somehow block out the pain. The Scarren was too incensed at not getting what he wanted to have any concern for the captive's well being. He held him up against the bulkhead and glared at him, letting his words flare out of his mouth one at a time as if a whole sentence spoken at once would simply ignite and be consumed in the flames of his wrath before the human could take them in.

"You will tell me, *now*. Crich-ton, or you will die!"

He could not form words. Was barely conscious. His whole world was a sea of pain. The Scarran made his friend Ka D'Argo seem like the most patient being in the whole of the Uncharted Territories. The Scarran squeezed his head as he tightened his grip. Crichton squirmed, the agony so intense, the feeling that his head was going to implode - squashed like some ripe fruit - filling him with fear. He raised his right hand, trying to get to the Scarran's hand, to somehow ease the grip that was killing him. Blood was leaking out of his ears and nose now as well as his eyes but he was unaware. So far gone that all he was aware of was the pain. The Scarran laughed at his efforts and while holding his head in a vice-like grip in one clawed hand, he pinned Crichton's right hand to the bulkhead with the claws of the other. The human screamed as the claws pierced flesh. His hand pinned, the skin and flesh partly severed from the bones. Fresh blood ran down the bulkhead. His life essence was running out fast, chasing the trail of blood and taking much of his consciousness with it. The only good thing was that he had forgotten all about the pain in his head.

The Scarren leaned closer, his hot searing breath burning Crichton's skin and blistering his face. "Tell me, Crich-ton, and I may let you live."

No words were possible. Just an incoherent slur. The words little more than the prayer of the dying. The Scarren seemed to accept he would get nothing from the human. He twisted the claw that impaled Crichton's hand and relished the scream of agony torn from the man's throat just before he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

Bialar Crais was filled with wonder.

When Onyi woke he was at her side, gently holding one of her hands in his. She could see the emotion in his eyes. A softness that made her heart leap. "My love."

"Onyi, you have no idea how much you scared me."

She raised expressive eyebrows above the strips of flesh. "I'm sorry, my beloved, I did not mean to do any such thing."

He chuckled softly. "You fainted."

She looked puzzled. "Fainted?"

If anything his humour became more pronounced, enlivening his voice in a way which pleased her profoundly. At times he was such a solemn man. "Yes. I am told it is common when a woman is with child."

The look on her face brought a delight to Crais's world that he had not imagined possible. She fairly lit up the universe. At least she did his. "I...I'm pregnant?"

"Yes, my love, pregnant."

She sat up suddenly, alarming him. Then hugged him, shell encrusted or not. She loved him, loved him, LOVED him. They were back aboard his ship. He did not explain that the ship was docked inside the landing bay. He just felt happier here, it was the only home he and Onyi had made together. It was also the only place fitted out for his own personal requirements. He knew his wife would understand. Better than any other that had ever lived. He wanted her to be up and about, ready to endure the day before offering her his surprise. She sensed he was holding something back.

"Bialar?"

"Yes, my love?"

"You are up to something, husband."

"How do you feel?"

She smiled. "Loved."

His breath caught at the ease with which she filled him with such joy. "Do you feel rested enough to get up?"

"What do you have in mind?"

His dark eyes twinkled captivating her. "I thought a gentle swim or soak would help."

Her smile widened. Knew what he wanted, wanted it too. Then her smile faltered.

"What's wrong, Onyi?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering. Will our lovemaking harm the baby?"

He laughed. A gloriously rich sound of which her ears could never tire. "No, you have many monens to go before the baby comes."

She raised her eyebrows. "How do you know so much about babies?"

"I don't but Jool has examined you quite thoroughly. She says the baby is well and approximately three monens. We have calculated the gestation as accurately as we can between your species and mine. You have another couple of monens to go before it arrives."

"It?"

"The child."

"Are you....are you happy about this?"

He took her up in his arms and swung her round and round then suddenly remembered her condition and gently set her down again. "Can you doubt my joy when every microt I am with you is paradise?"

She looked confused. "Paradise? What is that?"

"A place of the Gods from Crichton's homeworld."

"Crichton?"

He sobered immediately, remembering the sight of him in the apothecary. It made him sad. "Yes, he is human. His name is John Crichton."

She picked up his change in mood. "A friend?"

"Not always," He answered truthfully.

"What about now?"

"Yes." He said softly. "We are friends now."

"Why are you so sad?"

He was not sure how to say it so just said it outright. "I am sad Onyi, because I think he is dying."

* * * * *

Aeryn refused to leave Crichton so D'Argo, Rygel and Chiana went to meet the vessel coming in to dock. Rygel put into words what the others were thinking. "Why is he coming here and why now?"

They knew what D'Argo meant. Stark was a Banik gifted with the ability to tune in to the dead and the dying. His coming to Moya could only mean that the human was closer to death than any of them had been willing to admit. D'Argo acted as if keeping the Banik off Moya would keep Crichton alive that little bit longer. The others did not believe that but none of them were too thrilled to have Stark return either. Chiana tilted her head and watched through the viewing window of the blast door as Stark's ship came into the landing bay. Trying to reassure herself that D'Argo's fears were groundless. "Maybe he just got lonely?"

D'Argo huffed and gave her a look that made her shrug, self consciously.

"Hey, it's possible. He did take Zhaan's death hard and all his people are dead." She paused. D'Argo realised he was being unnecessarily hard on the Banik. "And he is John's friend."

"Then he may wish he had gone in some other direction," Put in Rygel gloomily.

She had no words for that. It reminded her too much of the sadness weighing down on her heart. They watched as the landing bay was repressurised and the blast door hissed open. By the time they reached the ship, Stark was emerging from the vessel. He looked both anxious and nervous. Chiana closed her eyes a microt. As tactful as ever, D'Argo came straight to the point.

"What are you doing here, Stark?"

Chiana tempered the Luxan's brusque words a little by giving Stark an unexpected hug. The Banik swallowed slowly, such sadness in him yet he was calmer than they had seen him in monens. "Where is John? I need to see him."

They exchanged looks. Stark began to get agitated. "Where is he?"

"Uh, he's in the apothecary, Stark." Said Chiana.

"Aeryn is with him." Warned Rygel.

Stark nodded and started to walk off. The Luxan put a hand on his chest and stopped him in his tracks. "I will not allow you to upset him."

Startled, Stark tried quickly to reassure him. "No, no, no, you don't understand. Zhaan told me, I had to come."

"Zhaan is dead." Said Rygel.

For a moment Chiana feared the Banik was going to cry but somehow he managed to hold it all together even if his eye was brighter than it had been. "Dead to you but to me." He murmured. "I have to see John, Zhaan has to go to him. The balance of his soul is in danger. You are *all* in danger."

D'Argo grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "What are you frelling talking about? What danger?"

The Nebari gently eased D'Argo's hands off of Stark and started to walk with him. "It's okay D'Argo, I think he should see John."

Stunned D'Argo looked at her as if she had completely taken leave of her senses. How could this bartantic greebol help Crichton? Rygel saw the look on the Luxan's face and hung back to speak to him. He lowered his voice. "Chiana is right, D'Argo. If John really *is* dying he needs all the help he can get even if it comes from Stark."

They followed Chiana and Stark out of the landing bay. "You think he can help John?"

"I have no idea *what* will help John. I just don't think we should give up on him."

The Luxan grunted and said nothing. It was the nearest thing to agreement Rygel was going to get out of him and they both knew it.

* * * * *
END