Mercy

Author: Nerys (nerys@smartania.com)
Classification: Episode addition/Liars, Guns, And Money Part III
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Part III Liars, Guns, & Money
Summary: Post ep
Disclaimer: Farscape is owned by Hallmark, Number 9 Australia, Henson Television, yadda, yadda. I own nothing and dream about a great deal.
Feedback: Please! And to the above addy
Flames: Smoke if ya got 'em!
Archive: Yes, keep headers attached and notify me please.
Author's note: Every time I say I'm retiring from fanfic…well, frell, here I go
again. Also, I don't do spoilers for the most part. So, there's no attempt here to bridge it to the next ep…which I haven't seen. This will become outdated very quickly, but for the moment…here you go.
p.s. You know, odd thing here. It went pretty much as I thought it would…and then it got…well…odd. Took a bit of a left turn there at the end. I say we just all accept and move on. *LOL*
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'There is a sound in the calm
Someone is coming to harm
I press my hands to my ears
It's easier here to forget fear'
-Depeche Mode, 'Waiting for the Night'
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Aeryn stood rigid, resisting the urge to put her fist through the closest object. The fact that the closest object was D'Argo, who seemed intent on reminding her that which she was all too keenly aware of, only made that struggle more difficult. "All I'm saying," Aeryn said with forced calm, "is that we try to help him first."

"Do you think I don't want that?" D'Argo asked.

"I don't presume to know what you think, D'Argo," Aeryn replied.

"John is my friend. And my friend is in pain, Aeryn."

"I know."

"Then how can you continue to let him suffer?"

"Because we can help him!" Aeryn shouted.

"How?" D'Argo asked gently. "Aeryn…he's mad. He's suffering. Before we left for the depository, you said yourself that if he was too far gone you would spare him. He is now that far gone."

"I know what I frelling said," Aeryn retorted. "I don't need to be reminded. But Scorpius is dead. He can't get to him now, no matter how badly that frelling thing in John's head wants to lead him on. There's no where for him to go. We have time now, D'Argo. Time. That wasn't an option before, but now it is. And before we put a frelling pulse pistol to his head, I for one would like to be secure in the knowledge that we did all that could be done. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes," D'Argo relented. "But I would sacrifice my own comfort if it spared him more agony. You have to ask yourself how much you're willing to let him endure."

Aeryn took a slow breath and shook herself slightly, as if the act could keep pained, frustrated tears at bay. "I will do what needs to be done when the time comes, but hear me on this, D'Argo. I will be the one to decide. No one else. Not you. Not Zhaan. Not Crichton. I will personally put a gun to the head of anyone else who thinks to make that decision. Is that clear?"

"Very," D'Argo replied. "What are you going?" he asked as Aeryn nodded sharply and turned on her heel.

"To see him," Aeryn said shortly. She left before D'Argo could reply once more, certain that his gentle concern for her own wellbeing would only serve to undo her. She walked quickly through the burned, seeping corridors of Moya, more aware at that moment how much had been lost for the one life gained. She didn't begrudge D'Argo his son, nor did she feel any bitterness towards the boy himself. It was, however, very difficult for her to equate all of the recent suffering with what little they had been given. It was a point that would be argued by D'Argo and most certainly Rygel, but it was one she couldn't stop herself from thinking. So much pain. So much suffering. If this was the whole point of being 'more' then Aeryn wasn't sure she wanted it any longer. Even in her unhappy, violent isolation as a Peacekeeper, there had been peaceful silence.

There was no silence on Moya any longer. And when there was, it was a pained, agonizing tense silence. One that waited to be broken again by Crichton's shouting or screams. Aeryn had never given credence to the notion of a broken heart and now that she was feeling that very thing, she was at a loss. There was no hope, despite her insistence not to give up on Crichton, there simply was no hope. She very much wished she could simply give into her own misery at the moment and crumple in the corner, weeping like a broken child. But, to now give into the selfish indulgence of that would seem like the greatest injustice. Compared to Crichton's torment, what was hers? Nothing, she thought as she drew close to his cell. It was nothing.

That thought did nothing to stop her heart from clenching painfully as she heard Crichton singing maddeningly in his cell however. She had to force breath into her lungs and to keep her feet moving. She was caught in the bitter dilemma of wanting to see him so badly and knowing that what she would see would make her want to run. Never one to give into fear, Aeryn crossed the last steps to Crichton's cell, wondering despairingly how long it would be before they would have to lock him inside of it.

"John," Aeryn said quietly as she entered the cell. Crichton was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, clutching his knees as he sang. She felt a staggering surge of hope as he looked up to smile at her, but it was quickly dashed when he brushed angrily at his head.

"Scorpy's pissed, Aeryn," Crichton said with almost desperate glee. "Pissed as hell."

"Scorpius," Aeryn said slowly as she approached him as she would a wounded animal, "is dead, John. He's dead. He can't hurt you any longer." She knelt down in front of him, touching him lightly on the knee.

Crichton grinned and chuckled slightly. "Yep, that's why he's pissed. In my head. Oh, he's so frelling in my head." He twitched and then shuddered, raising his hands to strike at his skull. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! Not my fault. It's not my fault!"

"John…"

"It's not my fault!" John screamed as he struck himself in the face, drawing blood.

Aeryn grabbed both of his hands, having to clench them with all of her strength to keep them in her grasp. "No, it's not. It's mine, John. Mine and Talyn's. Tell him. If he's in your frelling head, tell him it's me to blame. Not you."

"I…Aeryn…"

"Shh, John," Aeryn said gently. "Tell him and be still." She shifted her grip on him, holding both of his hands in only one of her own and reaching up to wipe the blood from his lip. "It will be all right. Somehow…it will be. We've not come this far to give up now. Just try, John. That's all I want. Just that you try."

Crichton nodded, his red rimmed eyes brewing with pained, helpless tears. He did nothing for several moments and Aeryn couldn't tell if he was reaching into that dark place where Scorpius taunted him still or if he had simply lapsed into a fugue state. "John?" she asked after another moment. She reached out with her free hand to stroke his cheek. "John?"

"He's pissed at you too now," Crichton said finally, chuckling again. "Yep, he's just right frelling pissed at us both. "He wants to kill you, Aeryn."

"That will be rather difficult for a corpse to achieve," Aeryn replied with a sad smile.

"No, no, no!" Crichton shouted. "In my head, Aeryn. He's in my frelling head! How long do you think I can stay in control? How long until he swallows me up and I'm gone? Scorpy," he said in a low whisper, leaning forward to breathe into her ear, "is still alive. He's alive in here. In my head. And when he takes over, Aeryn. He's going to kill what's left of me and he's going to kill you too."

"No," Aeryn said in negation. "No, I won't allow it."

"Aeryn…"

"I won't!" Aeryn replied loudly. "I'll…before that time comes…I'll…"

"Do it now," Crichton interrupted.

"What?"

"Kill me now," he said insistently.

"Don't be absurd," Aeryn snapped. "How far have we come, John? How far? If you think that I'm going to frell away everything that we've fought and suffered for…"

"Kill me."

"Shut up."

"Kill me."

"Frelling shut up!" Aeryn shouted as she pushed him roughly back against the wall. She straddled him and pinned his arms on either side of his head, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his own. "Don't you give up, John. Don't you dare frelling give up on me now. You fight."

"I'm tired, Aeryn," John said quietly. "I'm tired of hearing him. I'm tired of his whispering and I'm scared and it hurts. Jesus, Aeryn, I can't take any more. I'm losing. Please, Aeryn, please. It hurts. Don't let it. Don't let it keep hurting."

Aeryn took a low, shuddering breath, biting back the sob even as a tear trickled from her eyes and spilled down onto Crichton's cheek. "I know it hurts, John, but you have to…"

"Please," John pleaded in a whisper, shifting his head so that his lips pressed against hers for the smallest, most painful second.

"I can't," Aeryn said, her voice now as broken as his. "I can't, John."

"Yes, you can. You…you can do anything," Crichton replied, his voice gentle and awed, even his its desperation. "Never…never met anyone who could do so much, Aeryn. I think if you wanted to, you could reach out and pull a star into your hand. This isn't so much by comparison. Please. You promised. You swore to me."

Aeryn pulled back and nodded, her face contorting as she tried not to sob or scream. Her hand shook so much that it took several moments to free the pulse pistol from its place at her side. She looked at it and then slowly raised it, placing it against his temple. A shudder worked through her and her vision was distorted by tears intent on blinding her. "John…"


"You can do it," he encouraged softly. Crichton reached up and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it as tightly as she was squeezing the weapon. "It'll be okay, Aeryn," he whispered. "And so will you." He turned his head to look at her and smiled. It was the smile that caused her hand to shake and the gun to tremble dangerously in her hand.

Aeryn's breath came in harsh pants and she gripped the pistol so tightly that her knuckles turned white under the pressure.

"Go on," Crichton urged. "Damn baby, just do it."

Aeryn's finger pressed against the trigger and she was only vaguely aware of the low, keening whine that was coming from her throat. The entire universe seemed to have slowed down to impossible proportions and it felt as though days passed between one rapid, painful thump of her heart and the next. She forced herself to look into his eyes as she continued to depress the trigger.

Crichton smiled at her again. "God damn if you aren't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Aeryn's despairing moan grew into a negating scream of pained rage and she jerked her hand away, throwing the pulse pistol across the room. "You frelling coward!"

Crichton twisted beneath her and raised one hand to strike her across the face. "God dammit, you promised, you bitch!" he screamed. He lunged across the floor, his hand snaking towards her discarded weapon.

"No!" Aeryn shouted as she surged to her feet. Her leg snapped out and she kicked Crichton in the hand, sending the gun flying out of it. She lashed out and struck him across the face as hard as she could. When he fell to the floor, Aeryn dropped down with him and held him in a tight, unrelenting embrace, keeping his arms pinned to his side. "I'm not going to let you give up. I'm not going to sit here and have you smile at me and ask me to kill you! You fight it. You fight it until you think your frelling head is going to explode."

"Aeryn!" John wailed angrily, "I can't take it any more! I can't!"

"Yes you can!" she shouted back. "I'm not going to let you take the easy way, Crichton. You're going to hold on until we can get that frelling thing out of your head."

"Don't you understand? He's driving me insane!" Crichton twisted in her grasp, but only weakly. "Please don't do this to me."

"Frell you," Aeryn snapped. "You took me away from everything I ever knew, John. And you know what? I'm glad. I'm frelling glad that you did, but that doesn't mean that you can do that to me and then leave me here alone."

"You're not…"

"Shut up!" she yelled, knocking her head against his. "I'm not going to let you be a coward. You held me up when everything was frightening and wrong. You keep me centered when nothing made sense to me anymore. It's my turn. Just stay in control, John. Just fight it and let me find help. Let me find someone who can get that thing out of your head."

"Control?" Crichton asked incredulously. "Control? I don't have any control, Aeryn. He's in my damned head! There's no where to hide. No where to run."

"Then stop hiding. Stop running," Aeryn pleaded gently. "It's your frelling head, Crichton. Fight him. Teach him who's in control."

"And what if I lose?" he asked her quietly.

"Then I'll keep my promise," Aeryn whispered.

Crichton said nothing and then he slowly nodded. He didn't try to free himself from her, but instead leaned into her embrace, shuddering as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm losing already, Aeryn. He's eating away at me. But…I'll try. I'll try to regain control."

Aeryn sighed and held him tightly, her hands stroking his back soothingly. "You can do it, John. You can beat him or at least hold him off long enough for someone to get that thing out of your head."

"I hope so," Crichton replied, "and if not…don't go back on your promise again, Aeryn," he said in a forceful whisper even as he raised his head to nip lightly at her earlobe. "Scorpy and I wouldn't like it."

Aeryn gritted her teeth, fighting very hard to repress the shiver that tried to work through her. "Scorpius can frell off."

"Mmm," Crichton replied as he traced a light path across her neck with his tongue, "he might just like that."

"Stop it, John," Aeryn spat as she grabbed his head and pulled him away from his neck. "Stop it and remember that you are in control."

"You see," Crichton whispered, reaching out to touch her lips with his fingers "that's the really scary part, Aeryn. Sometimes, I think I might just like it. Sometimes, I think that it might just be damned fun to let it go and live my life as him."

Aeryn did shudder then and she pulled back from him. She took hold of his head and lurched forward, bringing her hand, and his head, sharply against the floor. She scooted away from him and brought her knees up under her chin, not ignorant that she was now mimicking the pose she had found him in. She stayed as she was, watching him for moments and then arns, despairing that, even unconscious, his features twisted in pain, fear, and occasionally a wicked sort of smile that was somehow all together more disturbing.

END