Title: Ghosts

Author: Debby (entlzha@yahoo.com)

Summary: Past, present, and future are converging on the post-Choice Aeryn.

Category: Missing Scene/Epilogue – “The Choice” (gen)

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Everything is fair game up through the season three episode, “The Choice”. If the phrase, 'I'm very angry', means nothing to you in a Farscape context, consider yourself duly warned.

Disclaimer: All recognizable features of the Farscape universe belong to Henson and partners. No money was made by me, no infringement was intended. I put them back the way I found them, honest -- Kemper and Co. are doing all the truly nasty stuff.

Notes: This one is dedicated to Amy for letting me play with her and her friends, and for her always-enlightening feedback services. And to David Kemper, for his delightful and illuminating presence at the Burbank convention. Thanks, as always, to my betas.

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"Aeryn, you're, um, you're cleared to land."

"Acknowledged.” She cut off the comms before she had to hear Crais again. The module dropped into silence. Strange -- everything was silence now, all the time. No one was saying anything that mattered. And she couldn't stand to listen to them any more. Especially Crais and his simpering, apologetic voice.

//"Aeryn, I'm sorry, I..."

She turned. Wind rushed up the building's edge behind her, still carrying with it the silence that was Xhalax's death. Eternally the good Peacekeeper, she was, to die without ceremony or even a single sound. Nothing for yourself, not even death. All for the greater purpose. Cogs in the giant wheel that was the Peacekeepers. Just do the job. Never ask for anything, never expect anything.

And look what had happened when either of them had broken the rule. Had asked for something. Look at how each had paid for that audacity.

"Go."

"Aeryn...” Crais started.

But his words of regret were the last thing she could stomach right now. His pathetic attempt to make amends for a lifetime of taking things away from her. "I said GO!"//

She locked sensors onto Talyn and adjusted course to avoid Valldor's moon's gravitational pull. The module shuddered slightly at the change. As usual. Furlow had managed to copy Crichton's pieced-together ship pretty well, right down to its deficiencies. She certainly had to be the only one in the frelling universe who would possibly want to.

//Only his legs showed under his laughable little module. One arm snaked up from behind to wrap itself around the top of the nose, and the flickering light of a welding torch cast shadows on it.

"What are you doing?” she asked.

His head appeared over the module, heavy goggles covering half his face. "I'm upgrading.” He turned off the torch and slid the goggles up onto his forehead. Hair stuck out every which way around them. A look no Peacekeeper would ever dare have in public. "C'mere and look."

She did. He was smiling almost stupidly at his handiwork -- a gold hetch fin welded unevenly onto the side of the primitive Earth craft. It was an ugly, probably useless, modification.

"Hm?” He wiped one hand on his shirt. A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple, tracing a path of grime from hairline to ear. "What d'ya think?"

"I think it's a waste of a perfectly good hetch drive. Where did you get it?"

"Commerce planet. Took my whole share of those giant turnip things we got from Sykar, too."

"Those were all we had to trade with, and this is what you bought?"

"Well, yeah.” He frowned, obviously affronted. As well he should be. "What'd you spend your money on?"

What should she have? "Weapons replacements. Chakkan oil cartridges. A case of pulse pistols. Worthwhile items."

"Hey, I'll have you know that this'll be extremely useful when I get it up and running."

Useful? She looked at the little ship again. Now, she knew he was insane. "It has no weaponry, a fourth-rate thruster system, and it maneuvers like a taroth in heat. What kind of use could it possibly be?"

"I dunno. How about target practice. Good cop, bad cop. Decoy. At the very least, I can play ring and run while you save the freakin' day. Don't write me off, Aeryn. Daddy's baby here has been through a wormhole and come out in one piece."

She hadn't thought of that. Take out the Human gibberish, and it was almost... practical. A diversion might be very useful in a crisis. "We'll make a Peacekeeper out of you yet, Crichton."

He pulled the goggles back down over his eyes. And grinned like an idiot. "Not likely, sister."//

The module bucked again. Upgraded design or not, that wormhole and Jack's weapon had done a job on the finest that Human technology could muster.

Not to mention a few other things.

//She stared at it. This was it, the thing that had killed him. Furlow's module. She hated it, sitting idly in the hangar, smug and untouched. How dare it survive when he hadn't? How dare it shine perfectly, serenely, in the lights of the bay? Suddenly, everything was drowned out by the shriek of metal banging on metal. She didn't even know what she had in her hand, only that it would hurt this...this thing. She screamed at it and beat on it until her hand throbbed. Now it wouldn't survive. If he couldn't, neither could the thing that had killed him...//

It had been foolish. A stupid, impractical thing to do. And she was done doing stupid, impractical things. She would be smarter from now on. She would start by tearing the module apart and seeing what she could get at the next commerce planet for the spare parts. Yes. That was the smart thing to do. Salvage it before it broke down completely, while it still had some value.

Smart. Practical. Not burdened by useless sentiment.

//"Aeryn, my module's a research craft.” Hot breath tickled her cheek. Warm, random exhalations that echoed around his words. "It wasn't built for hairpin maneuvers."//

No, don't. Just stop. This is about the present, not the past. She closed her eyes.

//A light chuckle. His hand strong under hers wrapped around the module’s control arm. "I'm sorry... what is that smell? It's your hair.” He was breathing on her neck now, so close she could feel his nose in her hair,

light and playful. "...I like it..."

So he had noticed...//

"Enough.” She opened her eyes again and focused on the readouts.

//A bitten lip and a pout, like a small boy trying to get her share of the day's rations. "You don't... like that I like it?"//

"Crais.” She jammed the comms on. "Prepare to deploy the docking web."

"We're ready, Aeryn."

Talyn loomed in front of her now. He had turned his docking bay toward her approach, door wide open. It was dark inside. That was fine. There was nothing to see.

"Docking web engaged.” Announcing it was a waste of Crais' energy; she'd felt the web grab hold of the module already. But it was regulation. So was acknowledging it.

"Acknowledged."

Yes. Regulations were good. Rules were good. She'd almost forgotten that. He'd almost made her forget that.

"Welcome back.” Crais stopped, as though he expected her to bother to respond. When she didn't, he filled the silence again. "Talyn is...eager to leave."

"Fine.” As though she could care either way. Stay, leave. It was all the same.

No one was in the hangar when she popped the canopy. Leftover particulates and steam vented out of the module, but otherwise it was silent. At least they'd learned to leave her alone. She grabbed the IASA bag and slid down the module's side to land with a solid thump. Solid was good. Something you could count on. No mystic gibberish. No channeling, no illusions, no magic. No ghosts.

//"What the frell do you want?"

Annoying little scurries. She could tell them all easily by their footsteps. Crais was a uniform, unhesitant thump, perfectly even every time. Rygel was a drone, changing tune as he floated up and down. Stark was annoying little scurries, scraping on the floor as he walked.

And Crichton...

Well, it didn't really matter any more.

"I came to see if you need anything.” Stark came around in front of her, blocking her view. He was wringing his hands together. She didn't bother looking at his face. She knew the repulsive look of pity and arrogance it would carry.

She shifted on the floor so she could see around him. The module stood large in front of her, slightly dented now from her rampage. "I need to be left alone."

His legs shuffled a little in her peripheral vision. More annoying little scrapes and scuffles. "I thought it was very beautiful."

She fingered the butt of her holstered pulse pistol with her right hand. "What was?"

"The funeral. I thought it was particularly beautiful, and I've seen a great num--"

"Shut up."

He didn't, of course. He rarely did, even when it made a person want to beat him until he just stopped talking. She ran one finger back and forth over the pistol. He rambled on, something about the sun and jettisoning the body. It was strange how quickly it had become just a body. How quickly it had become empty. She knew it would; she'd seen it plenty of times before. But it was just so fast this time. She hadn't had time to reach out and try to grab it back....

"...Crichton would have liked it, I thought--"

Enough. She pulled the gun out and pointed it at his crotch. "Shut up before I shoot you."

"Shutting up...shutting up...shutting--” he clamped one hand over his own mouth.

She laid the pistol on the floor between her feet and watched the module again. Whether it was this thing or something else -- deep down, she'd always known something would take him away long before she was ready. He'd always had to be the frelling hero.... "Go away, Stark."

"Are you sure you don't need anything? I could bring you some food. You haven't eaten since before...."

"Go away."

"All right. I can do that.” More shuffling. "Do you want anything from the planet?"

She resisted the urge to reach for her pistol again. He was damned fortunate that she was grateful to him for helping John at... when he'd needed it. "What planet?"

"This system has a world called Valldor. Crais thinks we might find some usable parts to repair the last of Talyn's sensor damage."

Talyn. The solar flares. It all seemed like so long ago already. "No, I don't need anything."

"That's all right.” He looked disappointed. "I don't even want to go down there if we don't have to. This place has dark powers."

Maybe she should shoot him. They were all like this now. Useless and babbling. Because the one person who made this group remotely functional was gone. "What are you talking about?"

"This world. It's rather infamous, I'm afraid. It's a hiding place, a lost world for lost people. Especially for those who carry darkness."

A lost world for lost people... "Lost?"

"Lost.” He squatted down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Those who have lost their way. And those seeking a passage into death. Or a return for those they loved."

Wait a minute. Had he actually said something important? Something impossible to imagine? "What do you mean, 'a return'?"

He looked earnestly into her eyes. "There are stories that this world is a special place for the dead. That spiritists and mystics come here to commune with them. That both the dead and the living are drawn here."

Commune. Communicate. To speak. To listen. What she wouldn't give to listen to that voice again...//

//Hey, baby...//

The tattoo of her boots echoed across the hangar and followed her down the corridor. It was dark here. Quiet and dark. She suddenly missed the constant drone of Valldor. Groans and cries and moans. Pain-filled, but somehow freeing. Everywhere she'd looked, there was nothing but continuous movement. Everyone left her alone -- few were suicidal enough to come near -- but they were always everywhere around her. In pain. Like her. It was something to focus on, to drown out the sound of John in her head. The smell of his skin. The feel of his body melded up against hers.

The taste of him in her mouth.

//Aeryn, please. Don't tell me where it comes from. Just drink the beer.//

And she had. She drank fellip nectar on Valldor until she could see him standing at the window, shoulders taut with anger and disappointment, looking out at his homeworld. Until she could smell the beer on his breath and taste it in his kiss.

//That's it... Earth. Minus the sunshine.//

//I would have gone to Earth.//

A DRD scuttled down the corridor toward her. It stopped, one antenna cocked, and watched her for a microt.

Talyn.

//Talyn never trusted Crichton.//

Or Crais.

//You have taught him everything he knows. This is about you, me, and John.//

Didn't matter which one it was. They were all the same. All of them trying to control her, to make choices for her. All of them reeking of barely-disguised pity. They disgusted her -- as though they had any right at all. She pulled out her pulse pistol and pointed it at the DRD. It scooted backward. Reversed direction and headed back where it had come from.

Into Crais' quarters.

That place...

Don't look. Just walk past it. Walk past the door. Don't think about it. Don't hear it.

//Don't worry about me. I've never felt better.//

//I'm very angry.//

//To know how close I was to love. So close... And then to lose it all in an instant.//

Just keep walking. Left, right. One foot, then the other. Don't stop. Don't listen to the ghosts. Don't look for them.

//"What are you looking for?"

She turned around, startled. No one had said a single word to her at this lounge for over ten solar days. "What?"

"Ten nights in a row you've been in here.” The bartender topped off her raslak from a long, narrow bottle. "Ten nights in a row, all by yourself. You don't meet anyone, you don't talk to anyone. You just sit right here and watch the crowd."

She gulped the whole shot and signaled for another. Two lieutenants brushed past her as they stood to leave the bar. "It's not against regulations to drink after a long duty shift."

"No, it's not.” He refilled her glass. "But you don't just drink.” He leaned down on the bar and smiled calculatingly. "You watch. You search."

Frell. He'd noticed. She looked away, at the crowd. "It's good to learn the competition on a new assignment."

He let out a short burst of laughter. "Whatever you say.” And offered the bottle again.

She shook her head. She needed to leave before he asked any more questions she couldn't answer. She stood up and fished for the money in her belt.

"Satisfy me before you go.” He took the glass quickly and tucked it out of sight. "What are you looking for?"

What exactly was she looking for? What was she possibly hoping to achieve in this pointless search for something that probably had never existed in the first place? Something from a dream a long, long time ago?

"What are you looking for, Officer?"

"A ghost."

She set the money on the bar and walked away. She couldn't come back here again. Not now that she'd given up too much information. No matter -- there was no sign of that ghost here any more than there had been at

any other post.//

Ghosts. Her whole life had been chased by ghosts. Peacekeepers weren't supposed to believe in ghosts, but she knew better. She knew they were very, very real. They spoke in dreams, in the back of her head in empty rooms, in faces of crowds, in the emptiness of space. They followed her no matter how fast she flew or how many posts she was transferred to.

//Ghostly brown eyes. "That makes you special."//

//Intense dark eyes. "You can be so much more."//

//Beautiful blue eyes. "You can be more."//

But the ghosts lied. She knew that now. And she knew she couldn't believe their lies any more. She could no longer listen to them and think that, somehow, they might actually be right.

She kept walking past the door. Past that door, past others. Past DRD's and control nodes. Past the center chamber. Past the sleeping alcoves. Still no sign of the others.

She stopped at the last turn in the corridor. The end of the hall, around the corner and away from any traffic. Where no one had any reason to intrude.

//"Wait'll you see what I found."

"I can't see anything with your hands over my eyes."

He laughed from somewhere next to her right ear. It blew a few loose hairs around to tickle her ear. His hands were large and warm on her face. "Okay, okay, gimme a minute."

"Crichton, we have to be running out of ship by now."

"That's the point."

"What?"

"A little to the left here."

He moved her to the left by shifting his body against hers, his hips pressing into the small of her back. She leaned into them. One hand blindly found the edge of his pants, the backs of her two fingers rubbing up against his warm belly, and she tugged him closer.

"Just one more second, baby....” Barely a whisper in her ear.

No. Now, Crichton. Right frelling now.

He pulled his hands away from her eyes. "Tah-dah."

Light returned. She blinked a few times and looked around the small space. A few storage containers were set against the bulkhead, but otherwise it was barely more than Talyn's usual half-formed sleeping alcove. "What is it?"

"This,” he moved around her to look into her face, all beautiful eyes and silly grin, "is the one thing I can give you on this boat."

"And what is that?” She traced one finger down his chin.

He leaned in farther until his lips brushed softly against her earlobe, the stubble on his cheek prickling against her. "Privacy."

Yes. Right frelling now, Crichton...//

"We didn't touch anything."

She looked up. She was sitting on the sleeping mat. How had that happened? The white IASA bag was beside her, a bright contrast to the darkness around it. A pile of John's folded clothes sat on the far side. She didn't look at them again. "It doesn't matter."

Rygel floated around the corner. "Everything's all there. You can check."

"I'm not going to check, Rygel.” Opening the bag, she pulled out the small pouch of leftover brandar tiles. "Here. Divide these up amongst yourself and the others. And take this.” She removed the pen and notebook, then held the bag out to him.

He scrunched up his face at it. "That's Crichton's."

"It was. Put it in the cargo bay."

"But... it's Crichton's."

She reached out and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him forward. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"I just thought perhaps you might want to keep it--"

She pulled him closer until his foul breath filled her nose. "Everyone has been waiting for me to lose it, Rygel. Hovering around, staring, poking at me like some animal behind a cage. But you forget yourselves. I'm a Peacekeeper. We're soulless bastards. So do you really want me to lose it?"

He gulped. "No...."

She pushed him away from her. "That's what I thought. Now, take this,” she shoved the bag into his lap, "and leave me alone."

//You can be so much more.//

//You can be more.//

No. They were wrong. They had left her alone here now, and whatever magical thing they thought 'more' was, it was gone along with them.

"I'm... glad... you're coming with us."

She glanced at Rygel hovering in the threshold again. The only face on this ship she could stand to look at right now. "Well, that makes one of us."

He didn't say anything else, so she ignored him. Took the holster off the wall hook. John's pulse pistol was still tucked inside.

//"Winona?"

He slid the pistol down his leg and back into the holster. Looked down the hall behind them. The security alarm was faint now. "Mm-hmm."

"You named your pulse pistol?” Perfect, yet another bizarre Earth ritual. It was a never-ending parade of them. How did Humans ever get anything accomplished?

"Sure.” He looked back at her, grinning. "A man should be on a first-name basis with anything he spends this much time relying on.” He leaned in to trap her bodily against the wall. She breathed in a faint wisp of his exotic, alien scent. "I was gonna call it Aeryn, but I figured you'd kick my ass."

"I still might.” She pushed his arm away and headed to the daylight beyond the rear entrance, the sound of his laughter following her.//

She pulled the pistol out, comforted by the heavy weight of it. Somehow, it still felt warm. She traced the path of four fingers that had held it close for so long. Gentle fingers. Safe fingers. Strong fingers. Protecting fingers.

//"Last time we stood here,” somewhere out of her sight, his thumb rubbed across the center of her palm, "we didn't say goodbye."

Unable to look away from his eyes, she folded her thumb up until it brushed the back of his. Followed his hand as it lifted up between them. "And it wasn't goodbye, as it turned out."

He wrapped his fingers into hers. As he held her solidly in his firm grip, she could feel his strength filtering into her. His conviction, his belief, his ability to keep going. His... hope. She reached out to it.

"Here's hoping history repeats itself."//

"Why did you leave that planet?” Rygel asked from somewhere very far away.

She slid the weapon into her left hand. It was fully charged. Kind of him to leave it so well-prepared for her. He always was a thoughtful man. "I didn't belong there."

And where do you belong, Aeryn Sun?

She ignored the voice. Just one more ghost looking for attention.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

Ghosts. She'd gone to find a ghost. And there certainly had been plenty to choose from. Ghosts filling her mind with fairy stories. Ghosts so full of pain they couldn't bear it alone any longer. Ghosts in her bed.

"I found,” she said aloud, “what was there to find."

//High Command said I could redeem myself if... but they lied.//

No, there was no redemption. Not for either of them. And, while Aeryn was just learning the truth of it, Xhalax had known for a long time. So why had she never ended it? Had she ever sat here, fondling a weapon that could finally stop her pain? Why was she still alive, then? And why hadn't Aeryn just taken that one final step, either? Followed her mother out the window. No pain. No ghosts. No regrets. Maybe she could really see Crichton again this time. She'd thought about it hard enough. Long enough. That whole first night on Valldor, until dim sunlight filtered through the grimy atmosphere and she crept back inside.

There was nothing left to win, for either of them. So why keep fighting?

//If you are my daughter, you are a Peacekeeper.//

Well, Mother, it looks as though you finally gave me a piece of maternal wisdom. We are Peacekeepers, after all, aren't we? You and I. And a Peacekeeper never gives up, even when the battle is long over and there's nothing left to fight for. We don't know how to stop. We're nothing when we do.

//You can be so much more.//

//You were conceived in love.//

//You didn't think I planned on goin' home alone, did you?//

"Then why did you leave?” Rygel asked.

She ran her right forefinger along the top of the pistol. It was so smooth, almost delicate, and yet so powerful. Like him... "Tell me something. This woman you told me about -- Kellor -- why didn't you stay with her?"

Rygel sighed, sinking farther into his chair. "Someone in my position could never be with someone in hers."

//You can be more.//

//If you are my daughter, you are a Peacekeeper.//

//You can't bring me back, you know.//

//I'm just a soldier.//

"You know your place, Rygel. As I know mine.” She stood up, her thumb rubbing over the pulse pistol's grip. "We can pretend for a while that it's different -- that we're different -- but that doesn't make it true. And eventually, we have to face reality as it is, without the delusions. Because that's really all there ever was."

He looked at his toes and sighed again. "No matter what it costs."

"Nothing is free. We pay for everything."

//Exactly how much time have you spent with this Human?//

//My superiors knew I came to you that night.//

//It was a bad trade, Zhaan.//

//I'm different because I love you!//

//This Larraq guy, he liked you. A lot.//

//Change your mind. Whatever you did with Crais' plan, put it back.//

//No matter what happens, you... have worked your way into my heart.//

//And you've shown me that I have one.//

"Please prepare for Starburst,” Crais' voice boomed over the comms system.

Aeryn set Winona down on the mat and rubbed her hands on her pant legs until she could no longer feel John on them. Walked away from the weapon. Another part of that past she could never get back.

Rygel moaned dramatically. "I hate Starburst. Have I ever mentioned that?"

"Why are we Starbursting right now?"

"Crais did tell you, didn't he? That Talyn thinks he's found Moya."

It was suddenly hard to breathe. The stark red walls pressed in on her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on working her lungs. Breathe, soldier. In, out. In, out. In, out.

She had thought it was hard to face the ghosts on that planet, and on this ship. The ghost in this bed. But none of them could compare to the one that remained. The bloodiest ghost of them all wasn't chasing her -- it was waiting for her.

On Moya.

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~~finis~~

Feedback -- good, bad, or ugly -- is hugely appreciiated! Thanks, Debby entlzha@yahoo.com