Kaz (kazbaby) wrote,

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Baby likes to rocket like a boogie woogie choo-choo train

I've actually been writing at a steady pace today. Unfortunately not on the fics I want to finish...soon! But I did this Harvey drabble. *pokes halcyon_shift awake* And I've also started a John/D'Argo buddy fic. One that I've wanted to do forever, but for some reason it wouldn't gel. Yay!

Author's Notes: Pretty much written on the fly. Set during ITLD after the scene with the generator room assination attempt. No beta on this, but thank you to Rainer, Kernezelda and One Eye for the advice given. So pretty much all mistakes are mine. All feedback is welcome.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, we'd have a Farscape channel.

Under Pressure


The water streams in the background; dense steam swirling in the cooler air. Metal beads at its touch, moisture trailing rivulets down the carrier walls. He watched just below the surface, seeing with eyes not his own. The human stands naked, barefoot, in front of the mirror, index finger prodding the bruises that darken further beneath the examination.

He sets himself aside, wanting to go unnoticed. Allows John the feeling of momentary privacy. Fatigue causes the human to close his eyes involuntarily, and with the darkness he finds himself floating closer to the surface, listening to John breathe in deeply and relax. The quiet of the room vastly different from the mind occupying it.

Failure. Torture. Death. Those three words repeated constantly, a mantra that somehow elicits calm. Heartbeat steady, John resumes his listing of injuries and placing each one beneath the long tally labeled with the heading Peacekeeper.

Feet apart, John lifts his knee against the cold sink edge and begin to work tightened thigh muscles, grunting from the twinge that darts through him. Doing this for several microts before moving onto the other leg.

He alleviates some of the pain to help; too much of himself has been spent maintaining the human's chaotic, emotional, energy signature. Alien. Sitting there among them, he listens to the varying cries of fear, self-doubt and hope for success that are well hidden from the surface.

Not even Scorpius can see the truth.

He knows the merits of subterfuge, his origins at the very heart of the word. Hiding something so important from his creator makes him laugh and he is curious if the changes in his ideology were a result of the accord struck with Crichton, but there are moments that he experiences pleasure at the thought of undoing all that Scorpius has achieved. Those moments grow in number each day. Further bleeding of their personalities over time? The thought had occurred to him, to John as well, as each has gained new traits and insights through prolonged exposure.

He can feel as John stretches his arms, neck chorded with the effort. Soon the man will step under steaming water, and simply stand there, allowing heat and pressure to further work upon the over-stressed body. Dirt and sweat flowing downward. John lifts his face up into the nozzle's spray, allows his mind to empty. They both enjoy the microt or two of peace. A rare moment.

Afterward, legs boneless, he helps John climb into the unfamiliar bed, and attempts to control the nightmares that will, more than likely, never vanish. Blocking out, if possible, the torments of past, present and future. Keeping John clear-headed enough to focus on his task, in accordance with their agreement, he begins the next level in his work. Together with John’s friends, they will destroy Scorpius' project.
Tags: fic

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