&fic;

 

Spinning Tales (the two person chorus mix)

by sugargroupie

PG, 1,251 words

Summary: this tale is best left to Humans and the Nebari who love them.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Original Story: There Once Were Two People

Notes: My contribution to the Farscape Potluck Ficathon, for Kixxa. Spoilers for season three, but AU futurefic. Many thanks to Kernezelda and PDXScaper for their betas.

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i. happily never after

The guard's body provides a different type of heat at her side and she tries to scramble away from his touch, the bonds burning her wrists with each movement. He doesn't try to reach out again but she watches his hands all the same, stained with Crichton's dried blood, damp from her tears.

In the filtered light his eyes are full of something --

(hey Grey girl, won't you open those pretty thighs for me?)

-- a look so familiar that Chiana would laugh if she could. She knows how the story goes, and it doesn't begin with there once was a man and a woman.

That tale is best left to Humans and the Nebari who love them.

The vehicle sputters as the driver forces it up an incline and she presses her back further into the wall, anything to put a little bit of space between herself and the guard. He snorts in derision and squeezes her thigh before he's gone again, and Chiana sighs, lets her breath hitch and stumble over her sobs.

Crichton's body remains completely still.

* * *

ii. before everything turns to dren

"There once were two people..."

She's heard the beginning from him before, spoken just above a whisper into the curve of Aeryn's neck. They thought they were alone so she wanted to watch; held her breath when Aeryn leaned back against him, kissed him over her shoulder as he continued his tale.

It must've ended happily, Chiana had later mused to herself, because Aeryn strolled around Moya with her seldom seen well-frelled strut, and Crichton had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

Later, she remembers Crichton saying to her: "You grab the moments when you can, Chi," before taking Chiana's hand and leading her away, commanding gently, "Let's go watch some stars."

They were just two people then, and the story was a work in progress.

* * *

iii. this is what we call a plot twist

"There once were two people..."

He smells of raslak and sweat as he leans against the wall in one of Moya's corridors. "You stink, Crichton."

He laughs, as if she meant it as a compliment.

The Old Man's been trying to begin his story for arns, but the bottle of raslak interrupts his progress.

He takes another gulp. "Hmm, where was I?"

"Two people," Chiana offers. "Are they male or female?"

"Both."

"Two females would make a better story." Chiana shifts against the bulkhead, wiggling her hips to make the position more comfortable. "Two males even."

"Pip! Anybody ever tell you you got a dirty mind?"

She grins because it's true. "Don't I know it."

Chuckling softly, he finally sets the bottle on the floor, sliding it over so that it's within her reach.

Chiana takes a sip, lets the liquid wet her mouth for what she's about to say. "What... what happens when those two people become three?"

Because while she's known all along that this story has been about Aeryn, she's also certain of something else -- two John Crichtons will frell up the happily ever after.

He coughs awkwardly into his hand and she catches his eyes, tries to tell him silently that she didn't say the words to hurt him, but maybe the pain will distract him enough to veer the conversation elsewhere.

Chiana only hears the hum of Moya before Crichton clears his throat. He blinks hard once but doesn't break their gaze, just passes on the bottle of raslak as he spins a new tale.

"So, there once were three people..."

"Four," she interrupts, wiping the excess alcohol from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Really two, 'cause the first two went on their own. And, and the second two stayed on a ship and got pretty trinkets everywhere they went."

Crichton rubs a hand down his face, the slightest smile turning up the corners of his mouth. She was good at distracting, then. "Then it was four people, but two stories?"

"Exactly," she nods and the bottle switches hands again.

"Huh."

* * *

iv. the planet finds them

"...were two people," she slurs in his ear. She's not drunk, just relaxed as the breeze skims over her bare limbs, bright green grass tickling her skin. The sun bears down on them purple and pink, and Chiana curves closer into his side, not at all bothered by the two sources of heat.

Crichton moves his out-stretched arm to drape around her shoulder, fingers tapping a rhythm against the bone. "Hey, wasn't that my line?"

"Yeah. You need a better one."

She can see his smile from the corner of her eye and raises her head to get the full on effect. Chiana traces her finger across his lower lip, then leans down to replace her finger with her mouth.

"Chiana," he drawls and grabs her chin, putting distance between them. He soothes the slight with gentle strokes of his thumb on her cheek, but the rejection still stings.

She doesn't regret letting him come with her but still, she wonders, when he'll tell the story of them.

* * *

v. beginnings end

Old Man hasn't spun a tale in days and his silence makes her nervous. Chiana does it for him; whispers sweet nothings, like 'it'll be alright' or 'everything's gonna be okay' until he musters up a weak smile through cracked lips.

The guards transport them from a dingy room to the outside and she can finally catalogue the bruises marking his skin. And blood, so much blood, as he limps toward the truck like something's broken. She wants to rant and yell at their captors -- does curse at them in a language untranslatable by the microbes -- but it feels inadequate. Neither of them can take action with their hands tied behind their backs.

"I'm gonna be fine, Pip," he tells her, leaning his cheek against her hair, in close enough contact that the guards have allowed. "Just saving my energy."

Saving your energy for what? she wants to ask. So far they've only taken their aggression out on Crichton, but Chiana knows he can't take much more of their punishment.

She sighs his name, "John," as they're pulled roughly apart. The guards push her into the rear of the truck first and she gets her bearings in time to see Crichton roll to a stop in front of the bench. He lies there, groaning in pain until one of the guards hops into the back with them and begins securing her bindings to an old rail.

Chiana cringes in ghost pain as Crichton is hefted up none too gently. I'm so sorry, she thinks, that we ever found this planet.

* * *

i. nightfall

She is surrounded by stifling heat and eager hands, and each time she awakens she struggles with both.

Chiana has lost count the number of times she's blacked out.

She remembers calling out to Crichton; the sudden disoriented feeling as the guard back-handed her, taunting her with Crichton's blood. Fresh, this time, and her fighting back is more ferocious as a result.

"Is he still alive?" she hears herself ask, as if the guard would show her any mercy. There is no answer, just the sound of retreating footsteps and then a door slamming shut. Chiana falls back onto her cot and screams into her pillow, trying to remember how the story goes.

There once were two people...

*

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