Author's Notes:You all had to know I'd post one more for the year. I got the idea for this after noticing a license plate at work with the words 'quiet storm' on it. I worked on this most of the day to try and catch the feeling/scenes in my head. This has had drive by approval by One Eyed DRD, Flora Stuart, and Catherine Bruce. Thanks girls.
Setting:AU from Season 2 onward.
Rating:PG-13 for an earth curse word and violence.
Disclaimer:Not mine. If it was, we'd have a Farscape channel.
Sounds of the traffic, people laughing and talking, drift through the walls, furthering my loneliness.
All I have left is a price on my head, and a gun in my hand. Its lines a familiar comfort. Cold and lifeless, it’s my reflection staring back at me.
Ignoring the dancing shadows on the walls. I sit in the dark, eyes staring blankly at the far wall and I wait. Wait for a sign, a certain sound, that I know will come.
Concealed by the noises outside, it arrives.
They’ve found me. Again.
Standing, I block out everything else. The fear making my head pound, the sweat trailing down my spine. The door opens, and I back away from the lights falling through my window. Merging with the wall in the darkened corner.
Once, I thought I was better off dead. Not any longer. Now, I bring death to those that continue to hunt me. They’ve become more clever over the years, hiding themselves behind the familiar faces of those I once called friend or lover. But you can only fool me so often, and I’m a fast learner.
Death found me once. Left me in a puddle of decrepit dreams. Shattered and insane.
I am death now. Holding the universe in my hands. In my head. On a silver plate for those that try and embrace me.
Yet, I fight the urge to open myself and allow the void to swallow me.
The door to my room opens. They stand in the shadows as I do and I wait to see who moves first.
“Crichton? It’s time for you to come home,” speaks the one on the left. Her, if it really is a female, trying to sound like someone I once knew, loved. Her name escapes me now.
I kiss the gun in my hand. Almost tempted to put it against my own flesh and let her sing one more time for me.
But she warms my hand, lighting the way.
There are no more whispers speaking my name. Light reveals the same old tricks and lies, but this time they don’t bleed white or fried circuitry, but red and black. They’ve gotten better.
So have I.
Grabbing the bag I’d already packed. I step over the bodies and move on.
The sky is dark, but I can see the clouds hanging low, swirling. Cold. Shifting silently, it reminds me of the void inside.
I don’t know where I’ll stop next, if I ever will.
I hope everyone has a excellent new year. *vbg*