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Inspired by Kyoko Fukada's "Into the Light"
Special thanks to Unohoo for beta-reading!
"Goodbye my love..."
The alien ship flew through the wormhole wall. Zhaan could see the rush of the continuum all around her, seeping through the walls of the control room. It would be a matter of a few microts before it hit normal space, came to a dead stop, and would be atomized, her body destroyed with it. She wasn't afraid.
For many solar days her body had been ravaged by disease, enduring weakness and pain that had been growing slowly over time. But as of that moment, the pain was gone. Her mind was linked to that of her love, giving her strength and comfort. She knew that he would help her the moment her spirit left her body. The microts stretched out eternally, until finally she felt every molecule in her body being ripped apart. Then she reached her soul out to be carried into eternity by Stark's shining line.
Blackness....
She felt nothing at all. How long did she feel nothing? Even time did not seem to exist where she was. It could have been microts, days, cycles. She heard no sound, a sensation for which she had always strived during meditation. No sound, not even the sound of her fluids being channeled through her body; her body was no more. She would move to find the Goddess, but there was no "here" nor "there" where she was. There was no place to move. Perhaps if she were worthy, her Goddess would find her instead. So she waited....
She opened her eyes. Her surroundings swam in front of her. She was aware of something satiny around her and realized that this was her own bed. In her chamber. On board Moya. She was aware of something simultaneously warm and cold resting on her stomach. Straining, she raised her head and saw his head. Stark's. Asleep. His mask had a chilly metallic feel, and the flesh of his face contrasted in a comforting way. Automatically, her hand struggled up. It felt lighter than it had in a while. Was her strength returning? She stretched out and caressed his exposed cheek. His eye opened.
His eye opened wider, and his mouth opened, and at first, no sound came out. He sat up on his knees, grasping her hand and holding it against his cheek, choking, "You made it! Made it!"
Made it? She tried to speak, and sound came more easily than it had in a long time. "Stark? How did I come to be here?"
Stark nodded and trembled and held her hand tighter. "Zhaan, Zhaan, you-- we -- I --" Then he shook his head to clear it and touched his comms badge. "She's alive! Alive!" He kissed her hand and then leaned in close to touch his cheek to hers. She could feel tears. "Zhaan..."
Not even ten microts later, she could hear footsteps outside the door, which swung open. In filed her dear friends: Crichton, D'Argo, Aeryn, Chiana, Rygel, even the Interion Jool. They were flanked by frantic DRDs. Chiana looked down with her opaque eyes, which brimmed with tears, and dove to the other side of Zhaan's bed, taking her other hand, smiling, gasping. John looked incredulous. D'Argo was quiet and looked a little proud. Jool seemed astonished, and for once quiet. Zhaan could feel love, everywhere, surrounding her, sustaining her, and couldn't help but smile. But from somewhere in the room was something cold. Was it Jool? The last thing she had said to Jool was to shut up, calling her ungrateful and selfish. A little hostility, even in the face of death, was probably understandable.
Her eyes settled on Crichton and D'Argo. "Can you talk?" D'Argo asked.
"Of course," she replied. "It is wonderful to see you again. But..."
"Always 'but'," Crichton remarked with a grin. "Just kidding, Zhaan. You want to know how you ended up here?"
Zhaan looked on, inquiringly. DRDs clustered around her bed, and Pilot's voice piped into the room. "We didn't think it was possible, but we found Neeyala's craft just outside the wormhole. It was nearly destroyed, but a small part remained. Crichton insisted on bringing it aboard, and we found you inside."
"Must've been stronger stuff than we thought," Crichton remarked.
"The ship or Zhaan?" D'Argo joked.
Zhaan felt a little dizzy. "But I saw it being torn apart -- felt myself being dispersed."
"It wasn't easy getting you out of there," Aeryn continued.
"The pod was full of gas the generator spewed out," Crichton explained. "It probably knocked you out. Aeryn went in with a space suit and got you."
Rygel grunted. "You were barely alive."
"We were ready to bury you in space," D'Argo said softly.
"But I wouldn't let them!" Stark exclaimed. "I knew you'd make it."
Chiana kept stroking her hand. "You made it."
Pilot chimed in again. "And we're on our way to the planet that will restore you. We'll be there in three arns."
Stark suddenly looked up and around. "Now get out, all of you! She needs to rest!" He scrambled up and started pushing the crew out the door. Zhaan could see Aeryn leaving, and what looked like the speck of a tear in her eye. Crichton stopped looking astonished and started looking vaguely...impassive. D'Argo smiled and didn't take his eyes off Zhaan until he was out of view. Chiana left reluctantly, following Rygel. Jool, for some reason, was the last to go. Her expression was something of a vague smile, something of satisfaction. Stark remained behind and carried DRDs out one at a time. When he was done, he returned to her bedside. "Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Light?"
Zhaan sat up, the motion easier than she remembered. "Stark, why did you make them leave? I've been resting for... how long now?"
"Ten arns," he replied, embracing her. "You're here. Please please please please please don't leave again."
She chuckled softly. "Now where could I go with you keeping me here like this?" Life was flowing through her body, a sensation that felt new considering her life had been ebbing away for all that time. She pried herself away from her beautiful Banik, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She noted he had dressed her in her resting robes. Curiously her hand went to her head; the light blue covering was still there. Dare she check how her scalp looked underneath? No, she could still feel the open sores on the back of her neck.
Lifting herself to her feet, she could not help but feel a touch of disappointment. It would have been nice to have met her Goddess and learn what wisdom She could offer. Stark stood by her side, offering support. Walking was still a bit difficult. Her head swam a little, but her balance came in a few moments. "Thank you, my love." She made her way to the door-gate.
But his supporting hands would not move, and he would not move, and he held her in place. "Please, Zhaan, please, lie back down."
She smiled but felt a little frustrated. "Stark, I've done nothing but rest for ten arns, and I'd like to see Pilot again."
"Please don't leave..." he murmured. Didn't he just ask her not to leave a few microts before? Not leave -- him? Or the room? Maybe he was still distraught.
"Stark, you can come with me," she said as assuringly as she could.
"But -- but -- I can't protect you if you leave."
Protect? "From what?" she asked incredulously.
Stark looked downward, then back to the bed, his eyes seeming to plead. But he said nothing and did not move from his spot.
Zhaan sighed, drew her robe more tightly around herself, and walked into the hallway. Stark had to learn how to stop worrying. She could teach him, in time. As she stared down the hall, noting the intricate designs of Moya's interior, she suddenly realized she had the time. She had the time to do anything. And what she wanted to do most at the moment was to look in the face of her beloved Pilot. He was only two tiers away.
She stopped at the ramp that led up one tier. Even though she felt stronger, she didn't feel she could make it up the ramp alone. The last time she had tried, she had to stop in the middle in exhaustion. Luckily, she heard the hum of a motor behind her. Turning around, she saw Rygel in his throne sled, floating toward her. "You, ummmerrr... you need --?"
How she would have missed the Dominar's barely concealed altruism had she left forever! "Yes, please, Rygel," she breathed, placing a hand on the back rest. He piloted the machine slowly enough for her to keep up, at the right height for her to use it for support. A cycle ago, he would not have looked twice at her in her condition. At the moment, he was moving twice as slowly just for her. It would take several hundred microts to clear the ramp, but at length, he turned to look at her.
"So, uh, what do you think you'd have done if you did meet your Goddess?" he asked.
That was the last thing she expected to hear from him. He had been listening to her! Joy swept over her. "I would have waited for Her judgment. I hope that when I do meet her, She welcomes me into Her arms."
"Then your deity is forgiving?" His tone was a little darker. He slowed down his progress slightly.
Somehow she felt she was not receiving a compliment, but she stood her ground. She had been preparing herself for such a question, although she felt the last being to ask would have been Rygel. "Forgiveness is the highest of all virtues. I simply hope that the Goddess feels I am worthy."
Rygel grunted in an unconvinced way as they completed the ramp journey. "So do I, Zhaan." He continued ahead, faster, leaving her behind.
She stood, stunned. A wave of the past flowed over her, and she remembered the sensations of that night, in the chamber of her lover, Bitaal, when she murdered him, when he was most vulnerable. Rygel had done so much more than that, and he knew it! Why would he be so judgmental? No, no, he cared. He cared for her. He was concerned. That was all. Concentrating, she banished the wave, feeling stronger.
Further up the hall, she paused to rest on a crate of supplies. With her head downward, trying to fill her lungs with air, she could hear footsteps down the hall, which grew louder and closer, until she saw a pair of black boots in front of her. Her eyes moving upwards over a body clad in leather, they rested on the strong features of Aeryn Sun. Aeryn was smiling. "I suspect you were just as annoyed at Stark chasing us out as we were."
"He means well," Zhaan replied, returning the smile. "Before I left, I felt in his mind a terrible fear and agony. He'll need some time to put himself back together."
Aeryn nodded and sat down beside her. "It makes me feel better that my life is no longer going to be at cost to yours."
Zhaan tousled Aeryn's braid. "It was never a cost, Aeryn. It was a joy knowing that you could be with those who love you again."
Aeryn didn't resist. "But what about those who love you?"
Zhaan's mind stopped for a brief instance. She thought they might be selfish for keeping her around, but was she being selfish for thinking she could just leave? Why was she thinking of this now? "I - I would still have loved them in return," she responded. What was happening? Her resolve suddenly felt wrong. "My love for you is strong. It was right that you live now."
"If you say so, Zhaan," Aeryn said coldly and stood. "But I lived only to see you waste away. I'm glad you're going to be better." With that, she walked away toward the ramp.
A new wave, this one of icy chill, spilled over Zhaan. Was this the price of life: to be shown the ugliness of doing what was right? Was it even right to begin with? Of course it was! She drew her robe even more tightly around her. There was one more long hallway, another ramp, and an access corridor. Then she could look into Pilot's lovely eyes again.
She walked slowly, more slowly than she knew what she was capable of. She hoped she wouldn't run into Rygel or Aeryn again. Why were they assuring and accusing at the same time? She ran her hands along Moya's textured walls, feeling the warmth of the living ship. She almost thought she could feel love flowing from those very walls. Moya seemed glad to feel her hands. But abruptly a partially gloved hand rested on hers. D'Argo's face met her own. He slipped a hand onto her back, offering support silently. His green eyes were soft, despite his Luxan temper and recent hardships. She breathed into a smile.
"Are you heading for Pilot?" he asked.
She nodded, catching her breath. "He is the only one I haven't seen since my return. How has he recovered?"
"He's fine, Zhaan. Everything is getting much better." D'Argo chuckled a little as he helped Zhaan walk along the corridor. "And once you're on the healing planet, I might try to find my son again. Things between Chiana and me have gotten better lately."
Finally! Some good news! "That's wonderful," Zhaan said.
"I've often wondered what would have happened if you had been on board Moya," D'Argo started, "when I found out what Chiana and Jothee were doing."
Zhaan returned a hand around his waist. "There's nothing I can do against hyper-rage, my friend."
"Maybe instead of being busy dying, you could have talked to me before I drove my son away." His tone was not cold. It was almost jovial. But the words themselves had meaning.
She shuddered. It had all happened under her watch. Was there anything she could do to keep her own family together? "D'Argo, I'm sorry for what happened, truly."
"You might have even stopped Chiana and Jothee from recreating," D'Argo continued, this time more bitterly.
"I could not have changed what happened," Zhaan insisted, stopping in her tracks. "I will do all I can to ease the pain." She took his arm off her and continued away without his help.
"I hope it's enough!" D'Argo called after her. Not angrily. Honestly.
When she had rounded a corner, she dropped her steady exterior and sunk to her knees, looking down at the floor. She knew she did all she could for her friends. Her friends had kept her, sustained her through her difficult times. She had helped them to the best of her ability. It was enough. D'Argo would find his son again. She was sure of it. She heard his voice in the distance, and Chiana's, elevating into a shout. "Yeah, well, you've got some nerve talking to her that way!" Chiana snapped. "After all she's done for us!" She heard Chiana's footsteps closing in, rounding the corner. Finally, she reached Zhaan, huffing. "That Luxan -- he's so insensitive."
Zhaan looked up and saw Chiana's slightly aggravated eyes. Those pools of black also held concern, love. It was a welcome sight. "We'll both make it better," Zhaan said after a pause. She struggled to her feet.
Chiana helped her up. "If he's up to it. How could he forget all those times you helped us out?" She gave Zhaan's back a light, fond scratch. "Heading for Pilot's den?"
Zhaan smiled and continued walking, not needing to answer.
Chiana kept up; her posture suggested she had too much respect for Zhaan to offer a crutch. "You know, like you helped us on the Halosian ship."
Zhaan reflected briefly on the situation. Her friends seemed mad, mixed up; indeed they were, more literally than she had suspected. Rygel asked her to shoot them, which sounded ridiculous, but in actuality it had been Crichton who asked. "After the way everyone had been acting, I didn't know if I was doing the right thing at all."
"Oh, that was right," Chiana assured her with a playful smile. "But you know what was more krell than that? Remember when you got that one Halosian to attack the other?"
The familiar coldness in her stomach cavity, the churning of digestive fluids that suddenly became more violent, suddenly overtook her as she remembered the horrible sight of the one creature knocking the other to the ground, severing its neck with one snap of a beak. It wasn't frightening enough; this had happened under Zhaan's insistence. How could she have forgotten? And how did Chiana know so much? The girl had said so little, but Zhaan had already started remembering...
...remembering all that she had been fighting within herself. She herself was capable of violence. But she had invoked violence in someone else. She instigated the cycle. Evil....
Suddenly Zhaan realized she was lying on the floor on her stomach. She could not hear Chiana anywhere. Did she imagine Chiana being there in the first place? For a while, she did not want to move. Memories of pain, anger, dark impulses were washing over her, and she felt crushed under their weight. Then she could hear movement, quiet footsteps, and the rustle of hair. Whoever it was bent down, and amber curls brushed against her face.
"Delvian," Jool whispered into her ear. "Don't give up. You're almost where you wanted to go."
It was stranger than what Rygel had said, coming from the Interion that had acted so selfishly before. But the words were truth. The face of Pilot, one of the beings placed in her care by the Builders, shone in the middle of the painful mist of her memories. She focused on it. When she returned to her own chambers, she would meditate on her memories. First, she had to see Pilot again. "Thank you," she whispered and pushed herself back to her feet. But looking around, she realized she was already alone. Did she imagine Jool as well?
Her strength returning, at long last she cleared the last ramp and neared Pilot's access corridor. Out of the narrow passage emerged Crichton, his eyes a shimmering blue. He noticed Zhaan but didn't smile. "Just checked with Pilot. We're almost to the planet. Matter of microts, really."
Suddenly Zhaan remembered the chill in her own chamber, how it radiated from one of her friends. She did not feel that same chill from Jool; but now standing in front of her human friend, she realized it was coming from him. "What's happened to you, John?"
"What do you mean?" Crichton asked, moving closer to her. His steps were long strides, and the way he was walking suggested he was trying to push her away from the corridor.
Zhaan tried to move around him, but he moved with her, blocking her entrance. "You know, I never did thank you," he began. "This is the last chance I might have to see you for a while, so I just had to let you know." His voice suggested anything but gratitude.
She fought the urge to push him aside. What she wanted to hear the least of all was what he wanted to thank her for. After all the torments piled on by those she had thought to be her friends, she dreaded hearing what he had to say. But he had the right to say it. "Thank me for what?"
John looked surprised. "For helping me! For all those times you've stuck up for me, even turned against me because I was so obviously wrong. But oh --" He smiled now, in a way that made her body fluids seem to solidify. "-- the best parts were when you helped me against Scorpy."
"We had to do anything we could to get you back," Zhaan protested, remembering how he turned himself in, in exchange for Jothee. "You were going to die."
"Really?" John had backed her into the wall and now put a hand on her shoulder. "I wasn't a captive when I asked you for exploding paste." His laughter suggested being entertained more than angry. "I asked you for something that would make things explode, and you just went ahead and gave it to me. What were you thinking I'd use it for? To spread on my toast?"
That taunt topped all of the rage that had been building, the very fire she sought to quell, and before she even thought, she thrust a hand out and collided her palm with his nose. He fell over backward with a thud, barely audible over the rushing in her ears. By the time the red haze cleared from her own vision, she looked down. The last of her strength had been used, first to fight the rage, and now to carry it out. She kneeled down next to John, her weakness making her less than graceful. Immediate pangs of guilt and regret coursed through her body. Tears spilled out from her eyes as she stroked his hair. His eyes were open; his nose was bleeding. "John -- John -- I'm so sorry," she murmured, barely able to hold her voice steady. "You're right. You're so right. Everyone was right. I'm unworthy as I am. My Goddess would never accept me."
John raised his head and grinned. All the pain from his face was gone. "Really? Who do you think you've been talking to this whole time?"
Again, Zhaan's thought processes completely stopped. Wasn't she alive? On Moya? Traveling toward the healing planet? Or...
"You did make it, Zhaan," John continued, pushing himself to his feet and helping her up. "But you made it over to me."
Stunned, trembling, Zhaan reached out to touch his cheek. It felt like Crichton, nothing like she expected. "You think I'm worthy? After all the cruelty I've inflicted on others?"
He took her hand and held it. "Zotoh Zhaan, you made decisions. Hard choices. The greatest cruelty was having to make them at all." Smiling, warmly this time, he put an arm around her shoulders and turned her toward Pilot's chamber. "Besides, I don't judge. Everyone's worthy. How else could I love every living and dead being so much?" Lightly he knuckled her brow with his other hand. "Those who try to love like that really get my attention, though."
She turned to face him, pulling out of his reach. "But why the torment, Goddess?"
His face swelled up in red anger. "You dare question Me?"
For a fleeting moment, fear deprived her of all ability to move.
Just as quickly, his face cooled down and John cracked a grin. "Just kidding, Zhaan. Your human friend has a real sick sense of humor. No, seriously, calm down. You have every right to ask. Heck, ask any question you want." His arm returned to her shoulder and he guided her down the access corridor. "See, I know you got lots of questions for me. Oh, everyone who tries to find me does. But I got questions, too. I just ask them in a different way." He stopped just before the passage opened up into Pilot's enormous chamber. "I know what you did when you were alive. I was watching you the whole time."
"Then you know I've done all I could to repent," she responded slowly.
"Repent?" He seemed a little surprised. "Okay, yeah, repent is okay. But remember, I don't judge. No, I was curious. You wanted to push all those parts of you aside. Violence, self-preservation, pride. Why can't you accept them as part of who you are?"
Zhaan concentrated on the concept. She wanted to answer right way, but she wanted to be honest. The Goddess would know if she were lying. "I was striving to be more like you."
John chuckled kindly and shook his head. "But to be like me you have to be whole. You have to love everything and anything, all parts of yourself. The whole universe; that's me." He seemed to notice her discomfort. "Oh, Zhaan, relax. That might sound strange to you, but heck, even I am still trying to understand a lot of stuff in the universe. And I made the universe; you'da thought I'd catch on by now." He rubbed her back lightly. "That concept of constantly trying to 'better' oneself. Everyone's perfect. I made them; how could they get better?" He chuckled again. "But I'm starting to understand more and more."
Zhaan felt much of her strength flowing back into her in a way that made her feel 400 cycles younger. "I never thought that you'd be the one with questions."
"Surprises a lot of people," John replied with a wink.
"When I met everyone in the hall, was that you, too?" she inquired.
"Sorta. It was me, but it was drawing on your own experiences, the faces from your memory. You had some influence. In some instances, you held sway more than I did."
When was she in control that entire time? All throughout the mazes of Moya's interior, she had felt under attack, except... "You mean in my chamber. With Stark. What was he?"
"As much like the real crazy thing as you could make him."
Zhaan remembered his words. "He said he couldn't protect me if I left my room."
"Well, he's always tried to protect you. He's got this knight-in-shining-armor thing that we could probably cure with a few years of therapy." He noted her disbelief with a light amusement. "Everyone that comes over to my side, I give them a chance to avoid my questions. It can be pretty rough sometimes, you know. They don't want to face themselves. So they can stay in their safe place for as long as they want. They can even go back to it if they leave. But it's boring, boring, boring. Plus I never get a chance to see how they tick. Really tragic for them... and me."
"So he was that part of me that was afraid to face myself."
John leaned his head against hers. "And you ventured out despite that fear. You even kept going, when you coulda turned back, just so you could answer my questions. You know how honored that makes me feel?" Zhaan couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Goddess felt humbled by her own subjects.
"What about Joolushko? I hardly know her, yet I feel she was urging me onward."
John just looked at her, wordlessly telling her she already knew.
"That was my courage talking," Zhaan answered herself.
He smiled and gently helped her forward. "C'mon. I know who you want to see."
He drew her along the lit bridge to the center of the room, where Pilot sat, looking content. But Zhaan drew back. "It's not real."
Pilot seemed a little surprised but extended a claw. "I'm as real as you want me to be, Zhaan. You wanted to see me and know I was all right. Well, your Pilot is fine. I just wanted to assure you he is."
Overcome by the gesture, she took the claw and held it to her face. She knew she would never be able to do this again, so she held on as long as she could. She turned back to Crichton, but he was already gone. "Zhaan, I wanted to ask you something else," Pilot continued in his place.
"Anything," she replied through tears, pressing the smooth underside of the claw into her cheek.
"Why do you still keep your head covered? You don't need it anymore."
Projecting her senses around her own body, she realized that the sores on her neck and crown were gone, but the weight of the cloth still remained. The weight was somewhat of a comfort, even if it did invoke memories of suffering. "I suppose I never want to forget how I made it here."
"A little pride rounds you out beautifully," Pilot said admiringly. He pulled his claw back in and continued to operate the panels on his console. "So, now that you're here, what do you want to do?"
She contemplated in astonishment: the Goddess was asking her what she wanted to do. She had been so prepared to do the Goddess's bidding that she didn't even think of what she wanted. Then the answer came clear. "Can I see my friends again?"
"As often as you wish," Pilot responded, pressed a series of panels, and Starburst flared all around them, speeding them away to their goal.
