Home Again, Home Again: 1
By SE Christ
Author’s Note: This story is based on 2 premises: (1) This story assumes that the episode “Human Reaction” never took place. Why? Because I haven’t seen it yet; this is being written prior to it’s first air-ing. And because depending on what happened on that episode, this whole story is either pointless, contradictory, or repetitive. Plus, it would make things way too complicated and really mess with my storyline. (2) Chiana is not aboard Moya when it occurs. This is be-cause (a)she was not on the ship long enough to impact this story in any way and is therefore not relevant to it; or (b)she left so long ago that any impact she had is no longer relevant to the story.
The story does take place after “The Flax”, “Rhapsody in Blue”, and “Jeremiah Crichton”. When you read it, you’ll notice that when-ever Moya’s baby is actually born, this takes place beforehand. Be-yond that I’ll leave it to your imagination.A special thanks to Stone Cold for his information and assistance on NASA, space flight, and many other questions. Be assured that all errors relating to these matters are mine. Thanks also to my ever-encouraging mom, who beta-read, edited, and served as my sounding board.
Comments may be sent to spacecadet101@netscape.net.
Do not archive without the author’s permission. Please keep everything in tact when permission is given.
Now for the legalese: These characters and the show’s basic premise belong to the Sci-fi Channel, Jim Henson Productions, Hall-mark Entertainment, and Nine Network. I’m just playing in the uni-verse, and I promise to put all the toys back when I’m finished. This specific story, as well as the characters and situations I have created, are.
Copyright Susan Christ, 1999.“Is it stable?” John’s voice, tinged with equal parts exhilaration, trepidation, and caution, was barely a whisper.
Aeryn was checking the readings even before he spoke. She paused as she looked up from the sensors. Then she looked at the human, who had eyes only for the swirling vortex before them. “Yes, it’s stable,” she replied quietly.
John Crichton walked closer to the viewscreen. “Home,” he breathed. As he stared at the swirling mass, trepidation and caution gave way until only exhilaration remained. “Whoo!” he shouted, turning to face his com-panions. “I’m going home!”
A second of loud silence ensued before D’Argo responded. Crichton, you can’t be sure that this ‘wormhole’ will lead to your home planet.”
“Maybe not absolutely sure,” the human answered. “But I have to check it out. Wouldn’t you?” he asked the towering Luxan.
D’Argo had to admit that he would. Another miniscule but deafening silence ensued.
Zhaan’s voice eased into the void. “I’m happy for you, John.” The tall, blue Delvian smiled, but the smile never totally reached her eyes.
John looked from one face to the other and was surprised by what he saw. He’d expected the same jubilation he felt. As much as they might be truly happy for him, it was mixed with…what? Longing? Envy? Suddenly it hit him. They were not going home. Of course! What an insensitive lout he was.
“You’ll all find your homes, too,” he assured them. “If I can find Earth, you guys can definitely find your planets.”
Although not entirely convinced, they made a good show of it. “Of course we will,” agreed Zhaan.
D’Argo harrumphed. “If you can find a way home, human, we most certainly will.”
“Now that I’ll be out of your…tentacles?”
Zhaan laughed softly. “Perhaps your success will bring us good luck.”
“Right. Well, I’d better get my gear together.” Crichton left com-mand, not realizing in his excitement that Aeryn hadn’t said another word since confirming the wormhole’s stability.
She watched him go; Zhaan and D’Argo looked at each other, then at Aeryn; still she said nothing.
“He always was a ‘pain in the ass’”, quipped D’Argo, quoting the human.
“You don’t fool me, D’Argo,” Zhaan told him. “You’ve come to re-spect John, perhaps even to like him”
The warrior held her eye for a moment. “That’s why I’ll miss him.”
Zhaan sighed. “He has learned a lot, and has become quite useful to us. I’m sure we’ll all miss him. Won’t we, Aeryn?”
The ex-Peacekeeper was still staring at the door through which Crich-ton had exited. “Aeryn?”
This time, she blinked at hearing her name. “I should make sure eve-rything is ready in the docking bay,” she said as she, too, left the room.
The Delvian and the Luxan watched her go and shared a concerned look. “I think this will affect her most of all,” began Zhaan. “John is more a friend to her than any of us are.”
D’Argo didn’t answer, except with a sigh. He’d never talked to Zhaan about rescuing Aeryn and Crichton from the Flax or what he thought had or almost had happened there. No point in bringing it up now, he thought. There was nothing to be said, so he sighed again.
###
John looked around his quarters one last time. He’d gathered his meager belongings and had asked D’Argo and Zhaan to pack a few items for him to take back. Proof, he guessed. Nostalgia, maybe. Whatever, it had seemed a good idea. At the moment, however, he was wishing he had a camera or a video camera. Hoping the images would remain clear in his memory, John picked up his gear and walked out the door one last time.
Crichton made his way to Pilot’s chamber deep within Moya. Pilot wasn’t mobile, being in a symbiotic relationship with their living ship. So it was necessary to communicate by com or by going to pilot’s den. Goodbyes such as this needed to be done in person. It was one of the things that had haunted him when this whole crazy “adventure” started. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye.
“Yo, Pilot!”
Pilot, as usual, was busily attending to Moya’s systems. Although Moya was an intelligent living being herself, Pilot assisted in her mainte-nance and provided the necessary communication, life support, and informa-tion for Moya’s passengers. The multi-armed creature who served as Moya’s pilot returned the greeting and prepared for the farewell he knew was coming. “Commander Crichton. You are ready to leave us?”
“Yep. Everything’s packed up.”
Pilot nodded, allowing John to lead the conversation. The human sighed. “You know, Pilot, it’s crazy, but now that I’m actually saying the good-byes, going home isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”
Pilot understood. “When I left my homeworld to be joined with a Le-viathan, I, too, had a difficult time saying goodbye, even though I was get-ting what I had always wanted.”
“Tell me about it.” Pilot started to do exactly that, but Crichton inter-rupted. “I mean, I know exactly how you feel.”
“Oh.” No matter how long this human stayed on Moya, Pilot would never understand all the idiosyncrasies of his language. So he delivered the point of his untold story. “But I have a new home now, here on Moya.”
Crichton looked from Pilot to the surrounding ship. “Yeah. As much as I want to go home, I’m going to miss Moya and all of you.” He looked back at Pilot. Crichton really knew very little about the enormous creature before him. Pilot’s life was so wrapped up in Moya that he never talked about his past and very little about his species. John glanced at Pilot’s re-generating arm. He still didn’t know how Pilot had managed to cope so well with the travesty of having his arm cut off by Zhaan, D’Argo, and Rygel. The human looked up at Pilot’s face. What could he say? But Pilot could be quite perceptive.
“I will be fine, John Crichton,” he said. “Thank you for your con-cern.” Pilot’s eyes shone with compassion and respect and gratitude.
John nodded. If he didn’t get moving, he might never leave. He’d be saying goodbye until the wormhole collapsed. He already felt the euphoria diminishing in the wake of his farewells. But he couldn’t let this chance pass him by. He had to get moving – more good-byes, a wild ride home. “Listen, Pilot, thanks for everything. It’s been a wild trip, but I sure have a hell of a story to tell,” he grinned.
“You have been an asset to this ship, John Crichton. Moya appreci-ates what you’ve done for us as much as I do.”
“Tell her thank you – for giving me a lift, a home away from home.”
A DRD came scuttling toward John, beeping and whistling. John smiled slightly at the little mechanical techo-rat on wheels. Kneeling down, he spoke, remembering how he’d once communicated to Moya through a DRD. “Hey, Moya, thanks. Be careful out there. Take care of that baby. Sorry I won’t be here when it’s born.”
The DRD chirped, then moaned plaintively. “Yeah, me, too” re-sponded Crichton. Standing, Crichton turned back to Pilot. “You and Moya take care of each other. All of you take care of each other.” He looked back at the DRD. “Help them find their way home.”
Pilot looked at John sympathetically. “We’ll do all we can,” he as-sured him, “to get them all safely home.”
“Thanks. Well, ‘bye, Pilot.”
“Goodbye, John Crichton.” Pilot watched the human leave his cham-ber. Whatever else, John Crichton had always tried to do the right thing for Pilot and Moya, had always tried to help and protect them. “We shall miss you.”
Crichton sauntered down the hallway, lost in thought. He certainly hoped the others never again got it into their heads to harm Pilot in any way. Nah, he reassured himself. Aeryn would never let them. Aeryn…a dull pain entered his gut as he thought of her. She doesn’t have a home to go to, he thought.
A collision with something loud and obnoxious interrupted his rev-erie.
“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” yelled Rygel.
It took Crichton a moment to find the diminutive Hynerian. His thronesled had tumbled on top of him.
“Get me out of here!”
John couldn’t help laughing. An encounter with Rygel was just what he needed right about now. He picked up the floating chair, freeing the for-mer Dominar. It was so hard to take the little guy seriously, looking as he did like a cross between a crazed toad and a bludgeoned warthog. No, that’s not it, thought Crichton. Whatever it is, he looks like something out of Dr. Seuss, only grouchier.
“Sparky!” greeted Crichton cheerfully. “How ya doing?”
“Alive and uninjured, no thanks to you,” Rygel replied testily.
“Well, after today, you can soar through the corridors without fear of colliding with me.”
“Yes, I heard you were going home. I should have been the first, you know. I am ruler of over…”
“Six billion people,” Crichton chimed in. “I hope you get back to them quickly, Rygel. And I hope you kick the crap out of that cousin of yours,” he added, meaning every word of it.
The Hynerian was nonplussed. His traveling companions were rarely nice to him, never treated him with the respect he deserved. No, that wasn’t entirely true. They were occasionally respectful, even kind. Rygel decided to believe Crichton’s seeming sincerity. What could it hurt; he’s leaving the ship anyway. A ruler can afford to be magnanimous once in a while.
“Thank you, Crichton. I hope your return home is rewarding.”
Now it was Crichton’s turn to be surprised. It was rare for Rygel to be considerate of anyone. “Keep it up, Rygel.” John poked gently at Rygel’s chest. “There may be a great ruler in there after all.”
As he continued down the hall, John called back to an astounded Ry-gel. “Just don’t give Zhaan or D’Argo a reason to kill you in the meantime.”
Zhaan and D’Argo, Crichton sighed. Neither one is going to be easy. As it happened, Zhaan was the first one he found. Bald is beauti-ful. Crichton smiled. It was certainly true of Zhaan.
She looked up from her herbs as he entered. “John. You are ready to leave?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
The beautiful blue-skinned, blue-eyed Delvian walked over to him, her face serene. But Crichton, probably better than anyone, knew the tur-moil beneath the mask. He didn’t remember much about the unity they had shared; Zhaan was right when she said the details would fade. But he did remember the struggle she faced, then and now, to control her hate and rage – her darker impulses, as she called them. Looking in her eyes now, he saw nothing but warmth and compassion, and it pleased him greatly.
“I do hope that your home is at the end of that wormhole.”
“Yeah, me too. Hey, don’t let D’Argo and Aeryn… you know how they are…I mean…”
“I will do what I can. But they are quite headstrong.”
John laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. And don’t let Rygel sell Moya out from under you.”
“We will be fine,” she told him, just to keep him from worrying. The simple truth was that, despite their grumblings to the contrary, they had be-gun to rely on him. In time, as he learned more about life in their part of the universe, he would be a valuable member of their group. Zhaan herself had certainly counted on him on more than one occasion. If there was compas-sion or understanding needed, John was the one to turn to.
“Look, Zhaan, I know you’ve got a long road ahead of you still; but I just want you to know that I really believe you’ll make it, that you’ll be a Pa’u again.”
Zhaan smiled sadly. “Thank you for your faith in me, John. I wish I shared your confidence.”
“You haven’t lost who you were; you just have to regain control of your negative emotions.”
“It’s not that simple, John.”
“No, it’s not. But it’s something everyone, of every species, has to do to some extent – to fight the urge to hate, even to kill. I know you have doubts, Zhaan. But don’t give up on yourself; you have the strength to fight the madness. I know you can do it. Try to believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.”
“I will try.”
“Do or do not. There is no try, “ replied Crichton in his best Yoda imitation. He considered going into a spiel about not giving in to the dark side, but thought better of it. He just said, “Never mind,” in response to the Delvian’s quizzical look. They just couldn’t figure out those cultural refer-ences.
An uneasy pause ensued. “We won’t be the same without you,” she told him. “You have changed each of us, for the better. We thought you a barbarian, a…”
“An idiot?” John offered.
“A child,” she replied, not entirely joking. Considering she was 800 years old, it didn’t really bother him. “But you were the best of us. Thank you.” She moved forward to hug him.
God, this is hard! he thought, fighting back the sadness that threatened to sweep over him. As they pulled apart, he could see that Zhaan was feeling it as well. Not a good thing these days, he reflected. And so he took his leave of her and set off to find D’Argo.
“Crichton!!” bellowed D’Argo as he thundered down the corridor. The tall Luxan was a master of intimidation, due largely to his size, his fierce-looking countenance, and his bull-in-a-china-shop manner. Crichton had come to learn that beneath all the bravado, temper, and flailing tentacles was a tender heart and an intense loyalty. It was difficult to earn the war-rior’s trust, but when given, the recipient was truly worthy.
“Whoa, big guy,” responded the human. “I’m right here.”
“You weren’t thinking of leaving without saying goodbye, were you?” D’Argo used his most intimidating voice.
Crichton was not impressed. He could tell that this time it was just for show. “No. Actually I was just trying to find you.”
D’Argo grunted as though he didn’t believe him. Such an odd couple, those two, and generally at odds. But over time, they had developed a grudging respect for each other. Now they were allies. In fact, it was D’Argo who had been the most insistent about finding Crichton the time Moya had starburst suddenly, leaving the human stranded in space with only his meager, substandard ship. Go figure. Not quite friends, though; that was a huge leap D’Argo was not prepared to make. But John was satisfied with being his ally. Despite the lumbering Luxan’s verbal jabs, Crichton knew their alliance was firmly established. Oddly enough, he felt a kind of broth-erly affection for the hot-tempered warrior.
“Do you need anything else?” D’Argo asked, delaying the inevitable.
“No. I’m all packed. Thanks. I even packed some food cubes so the other scientists can amuse themselves and leave my ship alone.”
“Then I will walk you to the transport hanger.”
John paused. “Where’s Aeryn?”
D’Argo looked at him sympathetically. “In the transport hanger.” Crichton nodded and began his final walk through golden brown cor-ridors inside Moya. They walked half the length of the ship in silence. D’Argo was certain that this was the longest Crichton had ever gone without talking; but he understood. What could they say? Finally D’Argo stopped in his tracks just before they reached the docking bay.
“Crichton, we have not always… agreed during the time we have known each other.”
“Agreed? Hell, you wanted to kill me when I first came aboard.”
“And many times thereafter,” rumbled the Luxan, smiling. “But you also proved yourself time and again. You have made a good ally.”
“Thank you, D’Argo,” John responded, genuinely touched. “So you think I’ll make a good warrior?”
D’Argo looked at Crichton as he might an unrealistic child. John quickly withdrew the question.
“Although you fought well, your greatest skills lie elsewhere. And we would not have made it this far without them.”
Crichton held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not fishing for compliments.”
“I know. And I do not give them lightly.”
Crichton was starting to feel a little embarrassed at the praise. He glanced at the transport hanger’s entrance. “D’Argo, would you watch out for Aeryn? I know how you feel about Peacekeepers, but she hasn’t got anyone else. She doesn’t have a home to go to.”
“Aeryn can take care of herself. But I will help her find a place to call home. You have my word.”
“Thanks.” John glanced at the doorway again and exhaled heavily, dreading his final goodbye.
“Here,” said D’Argo, handing John some sort of medallion. “I want you to have this. I received it after my first battle.” “I can’t…”
“Please.” D’Argo placed the medallion in John’s hand. “I have noth-ing else to give you, and it is a custom among my people to give tokens of remembrance to departing friends.”
Crichton was stunned. And humbled. Friends? How on earth had he earned the Luxan’s friendship? He looked from D’Argo to the me-dallion. Damn, if I cry in front of D’Argo I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll never hear of it at all, ‘cause I’ll never see any of them again.
He finally gathered his composure and mumbled his thanks. “I hope you find your son, D’Argo.” Both wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. A long hand-shake and a longer look, and D’Argo headed back down the corridor, leav-ing John to enter the bay alone.
Aeryn sat on the floor beside John’s ship, staring at the far wall. John stopped just inside the door and studied her. As usual, she was decked out in her black Peacekeeper uniform, this time wearing the short top that bared her midriff – his favorite. Her dark hair cascaded in waves down her shoulders. God, she’s beautiful. She was such a contradiction: strong and fragile, cool and aloof, warm and funny, rigid and adaptable, proud, fearless, uncer-tain. And utterly fascinating. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d been intrigued.
There he was, captured by aliens in an unknown part of the universe. She had pulled off her helmet and…voila, another human – and a very beautiful one at that. Or so he had thought, until she had knocked him on the ground and sat on him, pinning him down.
John smiled at the memory. First impressions are not her strong suit. But lasting impressions…now, that’s something else entirely. He sighed softly at the thought of last impressions. I wonder if this is how Dorothy felt when she left Oz?
John gathered his courage, put on his best nonchalant attitude, and strode into the bay. “Hey.”
Aeryn lifted her head, but didn’t turn. “Hey.”
John went to his ship and placed D’Argo’s medallion in his duffle bag and stashed the bag in the module. When he came back around, Aeryn was standing, waiting.
“I’ve checked your ship over,” she told him. “She’s ready to go.”
“Thanks.”
“I included a few parts and some tools you might not be able to come up with on your world.”
“Yeah, that could be a problem. Thanks…again”
“Do you think they will let you keep the modifications to your ship?” she asked.
“They’d better,” he replied with a feral smile, “or I might turn into D’Argo on them.”
“You’d have to grow a bit and stretch your tongue considerably to ac-complish that one,” she teased.
“They’d still have to take her over my dead body,” he said more seri-ously. “They’ll definitely be all over it. But I’ve got as good a chance as anybody of understanding this biomechanoid technology. I’ll do my best to have as much say as possible.” He looked around at the living ship. “My head’s spinning from all I’ve learned on this insane journey, and I haven’t even scratched the surface.” He leaned against the Farscape. “You know, I never gave up on finding Earth, but somehow I wasn’t prepared for the sud-denness of it.”
Neither was I, thought Aeryn.
“Life back home is going to seem very dull by comparison,” John mused.
“You could stay,” she countered.
John turned to her, a dozen emotions flitting across his face. “I have to find out, Aeryn. I have to know.”
Aeryn nodded; she’d expected as much.
“What will you do if Earth isn’t at the end of that wormhole?” Aeryn asked, worry creeping into her voice.
“I guess I’ll start over. But I won’t give up.”
Aeryn smiled slightly. “I’d be surprised if you did.” A pause. “I hope it is your home.”
John moved closer. “You could still come with me.” His nonchalant attitude was becoming difficult to maintain. “It could be exciting!”
Aeryn looked skeptical. “A planet as backwards as yours? You don’t even have space travel.”
“Hey, it’d be like camping. You know, getting back to nature, rough-ing it…”
“I don’t think so.” She sighed. “We’ve had this conversation before, John.”
“No, we haven’t. You’ve always refused to even consider it.”
“Why should I go? They’re not my people; they’re yours. I’ve al-ready left the only home I’ve ever known, the only life I’ve ever known. Now you’re suggesting that I leave the only universe I’ve ever known?”
“Been there, done that,” Crichton interjected.
“But you didn’t do it intentionally. And now you’re going back to your old life, to all that is familiar to you. To all those things I can never have.”
“Aeryn…”
“The truth is, I have considered it. I can’t go with you, John,” she told him, her voice betraying her regret. “I can’t.”
John sighed; to be honest, he’d expected as much and wondered why he kept trying to convince her. “Your loss,” he said gently to himself, glanc-ing away from her.
“I know,” she mumbled, softly enough that John couldn’t hear her. When she looked back at him, he was staring at her.
Seconds stretched into hours, or so it seemed, as they searched for an-swers in each other’s eyes. But there wasn’t enough time. They didn’t know how long the wormhole would remain stable or when he might find another one. He’d probably already spent too much time getting ready and saying his good-byes. It could easily be now or never.
John reached out and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.”
Aeryn smiled at the inexplicable comment. Typical Crichton. “You’d better get going,” she said softly.
“Yeah, I guess I had.”
She tried to smile as he backed away, each of them unable to look away. Suddenly Crichton gave a slight wave, turned, and began climbing up the side of his ship. Each step seemed to drain his strength more than the last, invisible balls and chains wrapping themselves around his legs. At the top of the ladder he paused and turned back to her. “Aeryn?” he began. But she wasn’t there. John looked around the bay, but she had gone. He closed his eyes, warding off the lost opportunity.
Outside, in the corridor, Aeryn leaned against the wall for support and struggled against the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She’d never expected his leaving to have such an impact on her. Yes, she had. That’s why she had refused to discuss even the possibility of going back to Earth with him. It meant facing the fact that he would indeed leave someday – leave Moya, leave her. She considered giving in to the despair for a moment, just a moment. Then she willed herself to keep moving.
###
Aeryn, in full Peacekeeper composure, entered the command area just as Crichton pulled in front of Moya on his way to the vortex ahead of them.
Everyone had converged before the vidscreen to bid farewell to their comrade. Even Pilot had “arrived” via the communication console. Amaz-ingly enough, Rygel was there as well, and was being uncharacteristically civil.
“Guess this is it,” came Crichton’s voice over the com. John sat in the Farscape module, poised on the edge of the wormhole, and stared at the swirling vortex before him. Where’s all that gung-ho fearlessness when you need it? he thought. He had to go. Home might be just on the other side, and he’d always regret it if he didn’t take the chance. But he knew that a part of him would always be on Moya.
“Wish me luck. Goodbye, y’all. I’ll never forget you.”
A chorus of good wishes and farewells drifted back to him as he en-tered the wormhole. He was glad no one could see the tears threatening to stream down his face, or feel the uncertainty he felt. Then the vortex had him.
###
“Aaargh! That hurts!” grimaced Crichton, holding his head. Not as much as last time, he thought, but it definitely hurts. Must be the modifi-cations. Then, remembering the collision with the other ship that had hap-pened while he was dazed from his last trip through a wormhole, he forced his eyes open and looked carefully around. There it was, off to his left, all blue and green and white. Earth. He’d seen his home planet from space be-fore; he was an astronaut, after all. But this… this was different. Heaven could not have been a more wonderful sight.
John flipped the switch on his radio. Surely somebody was monitor-ing that frequency – he hoped. “Canaveral? … This is Farscape One.” A mischievous smile lit up John’s face. “Hi, Honey. I’m home!”
### Rygel and Pilot left quickly after John’s departure. The other three stood in heavyhearted silence for a long time, just staring at the wormhole.
Finally, Aeryn broke the silence. “Well, that’s that. We should get moving.” Without looking to Zhaan and D’Argo for acknowledgement, Aeryn walked out.
And so Moya began lumbering out of the solar system, no one having the heart to order a starburst.