Title: Revelations 2: The Box

Author: alison M Dobell

SUMMARY: "Crichton accepts help from Stark not realising what it will cost him."

SEQUEL to "A FAIR TRADE".

Rated 'R'. WARNING: M/M

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

Comments to: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

"THE BOX"
A "Farscape" Slash Story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

* * * * *

Crichton woke with a start. The PeaceKeeper guards had come for him. Stark was at his manic best.

"No! Take me! My chair, not his. My chair!"

The guards shoved Stark roughly back then ignored him, grabbing Crichton and dragging him to his feet. Just before they dragged him out of the cell Crichton caught Stark's eye. He knew what the Banik slave was trying to do. Appreciated him trying to save him from another bout in the chair but he knew it would not work. Scorpius wanted what was in his head too badly. When he got to the chair it was even worse than last time. Scorpius was convinced he was deliberately holding back the information on wormhole technology. Crichton laughed. It was the only escape mechanism left to him. Infuriated, Scorpius turned up the power bleeding his brain of every image, thought and feeling he had before he passed out. The pain was excruciating, unbearable, totally incapacitating. Stark could hear his screams from their cell. He sat huddled in a corner and hung his head.

They had to carry him back this time. The guards dumped him on the cell floor and left without a backward glance. Stark warily watched the heavy cell door clang shut then waited until he was sure they had left. He scrambled over to Crichton, concern etched on his face. Crichton was completely out of it. Stark dragged him over to the side of the cell and cradled him, trying to soothe him as best he could as his body trembled and shook in unconscious spasms of agony. He kept hovering on the brink of consciousness then drifted off again, wedded to the pain he could not stop. Stark stroked his head, muttering softly words that made no sense. He was almost in tears. While he could block the chair and had done so over a hundred times, this fragile human was already falling apart. Defiance would not save him. Stark closed his eye and entered Crichton's fractured thoughts. His mind was a mess, a tableau of blood red imagery and disjointed thoughts that made little sense. He found Crichton sitting on a quayside, hands round his knees as he rocked himself back and forth, gazing with unseeing eyes out across the water. Stark sat next to him and watched for a moment.

"It's beautiful."

Crichton did not react. Stark put a hand on his shoulder and looked into the tortured eyes. "Where is this place?"

"My father used to bring me here, to go fishing."

Stark placed a hand either side of Crichton's head so he would have to look at him. "I can help you."

"No one can help me, Stark."

"You know who I am?"

"Yeah and this is a lost cause. Don't you get it? Scorpy's won."

"Scorpius has only won if you lose." Stark paused. "Did he find what he wanted?"

"No. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know anything." He paused. "You said you could help."

He nodded and stroked his thumb back and forth along his cheek, never breaking eye contact. "Yes, but only if you trust me."

He frowned. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because of the alternative."

Crichton thought about that and shivered with reaction, his nerves like jelly. "What can you do?"

"Extend my mask to protect you."

The human gave a manic laugh. For a moment there he had nearly believed him. <Oh yeah, I am definitely losing it mama - big time> He thought. "Don't you think old Scorpy is gonna notice when I turn up in his chair wearing a mask?"

Slowly Stark ran a hand over Crichton's face, head tilting as he looked at him, a ghost of a smile leaking out from under his mask. It was as if he was outlining the position of the mask superimposed on Crichton's face. "You won't be wearing it John, I will."

Crichton hardly noticed that Stark had switched to the use of his Christian name. For a moment his fugue cleared and his mind was lucid. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"All I have to do is trust you and that's it?"

Another nod. Crichton considered his offer. A shudder went through him and he closed his eyes, hardly registering that Stark was now sitting facing him, using his hands to calm his mind. He opened his eyes. "If this is a trick I'll kill you."

"It's no trick. I *can* protect you."

Crichton nodded, his mind made up. "What do I have to do?"

"Open yourself up to me."

"How do I do that?"

"Whatever I do, whatever I ask of you, you must give without question. Do you understand?"

He frowned. "No I don't understand. What are you going to do?"

Stark brushed his lips with a kiss, then touched Crichton's lips with his index finger, a look of wonder on his face as he observed the human's reaction. "So sweet, innocent almost..."

Crichton started to get up but Stark put a hand his shoulder. "Sssh, it's alright, you have to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Then keep your frelling hands off me!"

"I have to make a connection, the deeper the better."

"Why?"

"To build you a safe place." He tapped Crichton's forehead gently with his hand. "In here. A place they cannot find."

"You'd better explain and explain fast Stark because I'm beginning to lose patience with all this dren."

Stark removed his mask. Crichton was transfixed. Forgot all about everything except the light that poured out of Stark. Then Stark kissed him and drew Crichton into his mind. Crichton felt a rush of motion, a blur of light and sound and sensation. He journeyed deep within Stark's caress, a weird exotic alien joining that threw every notion of human intimacy out of the window. He had no idea exactly what was happening to him only that he was powerless to do anything but go along for the ride. He felt as if he were being consumed, as if his flesh were being melted in a fusion of thoughts, feelings and sensations that completely nullified his moral compass. Up was down, forward and back had no meaning, and the ground beneath his feet was formless. He had no idea where the hell he was, what was going on or where it was all going to lead. Breathless, confused and excited he felt himself orgasm and energy shot through him like a bolt of lightening, frying his synapses and making him cry out. Stark soothed his mind with a touch, a caress of thought and physical being, playing him like a master. His breath caught, heat excited his nerve endings, made him tremble with something akin to desire but not of any earthly emotion he had ever known still less touched.

He was gasping now, carried on and on along a journey that seemed to have no end. Then the heat of passion cooled enough for him to form thoughts. "What the *hell* was that?"

Stark did not reply, he was too busy mapping pathways deep in Crichton's mind while giving him the most incredible rush he had ever experienced. On some weird level he realised that the sex was meant to distract him, keep him occupied so Stark could reach a level that was beyond his normal scope. Oh yeah, he did that one alright. Crichton wanted to ask him, to question, but Stark had other ideas. He gave him another raft of sensations, more erotic even than the last time. He was trembling continually now, unable to contain the spasms that were starting to wrack his body with multiple orgasms. He started moaning, unable to still the reaction, his body reacting to stimulus that he had no control over. A thought from Stark was enough to speed up his heartrate and make his mouth go dry. A simple touch was like a rod of fire shooting up his spine and taking all his higher brain functions with it. The pleasure was like an exquisite pain, almost too sweet to be bearable. He cried out, wanted Stark to stop, would have begged if he could have but nothing coherent would come out.

At last the incredible sensations stopped. He had only just been able to hang on without passing out. He was drenched in perspiration, totally exhausted and quivering with oversensitivity. Stark was gentle with him, knowing a simple touch could start him off again. That would not have been fair, not now that he had done what he had set out to do. Crichton looked at him, slowly managing to get his vocal chords to work again. "What the hezmana did you do to me?"

"I made you a safe place."

Anger tightened in Crichton's gut. "You call this a *safe* place? You messed with my hormones, Stark. You blew me off and jerked me around. What do you call that?"

"I had to distract you."

"Distract me? I don't give a rat's ass what you call it, I did *not* give you permission to do that!"

Stark looked at him for a moment. "You can withstand the chair now. At least, for a little while."

Crichton looked confused. "What did you do?"

"This safe place, it's like a box. You can put your deepest secrets in it and no one will ever find it. Or.."

His voice trailed off as if reluctant to tell him. "Or what?"

"Or you can hide in it."

"Me hide? In the box?"

Stark nodded. "The box, John, is the last resort."

"Then why did you give it to me?"

Stark started to stroke the planes of his face. Crichton tried to suppress a shudder of excitement. He could feel the finger touch every part of his body at the same time. From his head to his toes and all parts imbetween. He was still too sensitive to be able to stand it. It was driving him nuts. "Don't do that."

He paused and looked at Crichton. "Does it distress you?"

"Not *exactly* distress."

"Then what?"

He struggled to find the words, his own hand unconsciously reaching out to touch Stark. Wanting to explore the side of his face now revealed while the mask was off. He had a little boy's curiosity but as he touched Stark's face it was as if he could feel the man's emotions. That in turn triggered a burning need that shocked him. Stark wanted to comfort him, tell him it was
alright, that he could take whatever he wanted but humans had different ideas of morality. He would let Crichton decide what he wanted to do. He went to put his mask back on. Crichton put his hand on his arm and stopped him. For a moment they just looked at each other. A hunger and thirst building in Crichton that had to be assuaged. Stark realised he was silently asking him for permission. Very slowly he smiled and put the mask down.

Crichton woke in Stark's arms. The Banik slave had his eyes closed, appeared to be in some kind of deep meditation. They were in the PeaceKeeper cell. It was dimly lit as if it were night time though in space there was no day and no night. He watched Stark's face, saw that the mask was back in place. Had he ever removed it? Had those incredible things really happened to him? Had they made love in their minds and not their bodies? Why did he ache to put that right? As if feeling eyes on him, Stark opened his eye. Crichton looked up at him. Felt comforted being in his arms. Safe, protected. In a strange way he could not comprehend, he knew he was understood. Stark did not speak, he just looked at him. It was as if he was
waiting to see what Crichton would do. The human stirred slowly, enjoying the feel and warmth of the body that cradled him so gently. Drank in the compassion in Stark's face, longed to feel those hands caress him, the sensitive fingers draw out every sensation imaginable. He wanted their love making to be written in the flesh not just the mind. He sat up, sliding a hand between Stark's legs as he did so. The Banik slave sat very still and watched him. Crichton paused then started to stroke him between the legs, his other hand gently touching the uncovered half of his face. Stark closed his left eye and light again engulfed them. Without any word passing between them, Crichton gently drew Stark into his arms and kissed him. After they had made love, they slept. It was the most peaceful sleep Crichton had enjoyed in a long time. Stark woke first. Looked at the man lying in his arms as if he expected to find that it had all been a dream. The vulnerability of the human touched him as few other things could. A solitary tear coursed down his face and blessed Crichton as he slept. Stark replaced his mask just in time before the guards came.

As they led Crichton away they exchanged one last look. <Remember the box > Thought Stark. <It is the only thing that can save you now>

Crichton nodded once then was gone. In the awful silence and loneliness of his prison cell, Stark scurried over to the other side and started to furtively remove something he had kept hidden. It was a small electronic device. It had taken him two cycles to scrounge the parts and build it. It would enable him eventually to unlock the code to the cell door. Crichton had said he would never get out of here if he was waiting for that thing to unlock the door but it was all he had. Well. Not all. A slight smile
relieved the burden of his heart. Not now. Now he had Crichton.

********** T H E E N D **********