TITLE: "UNBEARABLE TRUTHS"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/CRAIS

RATING: NC-17. *SLASH*. M/M.

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "RUMOURS AND LIES"

The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"UNBEARABLE TRUTHS"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

"Is anybody gonna tell me what's going on?"

The others looked at each other. Eventually Zhaan spoke, though she looked uncomfortable. "We did not think you needed to know, John."

Her words startled him. She was watching his reaction closely.

"Know what?"

Rygel spoke, sounding almost contrite in a gruff kind of way. "We had never even heard of your species before let alone that planet of yours."

"It's called Earth, Sparky. Earth. And it's not just some backwater planet, it's my home."

Everyone was silent for a microt. Zhaan tilted her head as she looked at him, her expression sad. "We had no idea the Scroll had anything to do with you."

His face was a picture of confusion. "Scroll?"

The Hynerian Dominar eased his thronesled closer. "Yes. The Scroll of Karok-ta."

Crichton threw up his hands, his voice heavy with sarcastic. "Oh yeah, well *that* explains everything just fine!"

Zhaan gave him a level look. "Calm down, John."

"The Scroll was not specific enough to identify the race," Continued Rygel. "But..."

D'Argo puffed out all the air in his lungs in exasperation. "Just *tell* him, Rygel!"

"Tell me what?"

To his surprise Rygel looked at Aeryn before continuing. "The Peace Keepers did not know. The Scroll of Karok-ta is ancient even by Hynerian standards. It spoke of a divergence."

Crichton frowned. "A divergence? What kind of divergence?"

"A biological one."

He looked blank. Not understanding but not liking the apparent direction it was going in. "Way...way... wait a microt. Is this the part where you tell me Scorpy is my father? Because if it is I have to tell you I am *not* buying that dren. Read the book, seen the film, bought the t-shirt."

No one laughed. If anything they looked even more concerned than a microt before. <What the hell is the deal here?> Crichton thought. His heart was pounding, his mouth going dry with a kind of sick anticipation. >From the looks on their faces he knew he was not going to like the answer.

* * * * *

He had never felt pain like it. Everything was pain, there was nothing else. Light hurt his skin, sound was a physical sorrow, vibration of any kind sent shockwaves of agony radiating throughout what was left of his body. All forms of sensation were torture. He had no time to think about Talyn.

"That really was quite foolish, Crais."

He would have groaned but a long low groan was already dragging its' way out of his throat. Adding another seemed somehow reckless. Scorpius. He would have closed his eyes but his eyelids had been burnt off.

"You nearly died. Even now your life hangs in the balance." A pause. "We have had to be quite.... creative."

Crais could not speak. He wondered if he still had throat muscles. The thought made his head burn. He wished Scorpius had let him die. Did not want to think about how his techs were keeping him alive. Or why.

"You will be happy to know that we can save the leviathan, though it will take time of course."

<Forgive me, Talyn. I failed you>

He was not sure whether a tear stung his ruptured flesh or whether Scorpius had touched his cheek. Either way he cried out in a voiceless quiver. His flesh a ruddy pulp sticking to his skeleton with little else to add cohesion. That he was alive at all was a miracle but hardly a mercy. Where was death's sweet oblivion now?

Scorpius walked round and round him as he hung in the plexiglass suspension tank, the clear oily microbes the only thing preventing what was left of him disintegrating. They oozed their slow methodical way over his bloodless flesh, coating the raw nerve endings with the slurry of their
passage. Like a thick glutinous gel they spread slowly drawing a creeping agony that would have made him weep had he the ability to do so. Scorpius watched the parade of emotions with curiosity. Viewing him as one would contemplate a radical form of art on display for the first time. No. Bialar Crais would not die. He was enjoying this. Savouring his agony, the sweetness of his revenge. And then of course there was the human. Crichton. That the deficient species could elude him for so long was both impressive and maddening. He was running out of time which made capturing the human an even higher priority than before.

His eyes travelled slowly over Crais. There was not a patch of epidermis left on his entire body. Some of his flesh had been lost, too badly damaged to save, but Sebaceans were a known quantity. Their physiology held no secrets from him. Patiently they would rebuild the muscles and knit together the pathetic structure that would one day have to bear his weight again. For now he floated in the sentient gel, the microbes cleaning the last of the burnt tissue and grime from him and protecting him from the air. The drugs enough to keep him conscious but not enough to relieve him of his pain. Scorpius could not use the chair on him. Could not wrench words from him and for that Crais was grateful. Scorpius did not give up hope though that he would be able to find a way to get what he wanted from the former Peace Keeper Captain. His techs had described a way that it might be accomplished. Naturally it would be excruciatingly painful and Crais was in no condition to survive the procedure but as soon as they could stabilise him and restore his ability to speak he would review that option. He had no time to be subtle about it. He wanted Crichton. Needed him more than any one thing or person in the Uncharted Territories. If Crais had even a sliver of concern for the survival of his species he would not be fighting him but helping. Perhaps he could use that as a lever. If not, he always had the other option.

* * * * *

John Crichton was stunned. Mouth open but no sound coming out. That was a novel experience for the rest of Moya's crew. Chiana shared his amazement but was more vocal about it. Naturally.

"Are you all completely tinked? The Scroll of Karok-ta is thousands of cycles old. How do we know it means humans? We never heard of humans until John came and like he said before, he's the first to leave his planet."

"Not exactly the first, Pip." Said John, mind sluggish and still a bit numb. "The others only made it to the Moon - our moon. I was the first to go beyond that, and that was a freak accident."

"Yeah, what I said. You were the first."

He did not argue. He was having a hard time believing that his friends thought Earth was an old Sebacean colony. Where did these people get their ideas from? They made Flash Gordon seem highbrow. He whet his lips slowly. Time to inject some common sense. "Look, humans and sebaceans may *look* the same but we're not." His eyes flicked over to Zhaan. "There are
differences in our DNA and then of course there's our tolerance to heat."

"Exactly!" Pounced Rygel. "And why do you think that is?"

"Rygel, I'm having a hard time here accepting that my planet is even mentioned in the Scroll let alone the idea that Sebaceans came to our world thousands of years ago and tinkered with human DNA."

Rygel shook his head. "That is not what I said happened."

Crichton frowned, a deep line forming across the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember exactly what the little Dominar had said. Aeryn, silent for too long to be a good thing, at last spoke.

"I think what Rygel's trying to say is that you were not a separate species, John. Your people, your ancesters *were* Sebacean. Earth was chosen as a far flung colony on which to try out genetic experiments and produce a strain of Peace Keepers who would have a tolerance to heat."

"Okay Aeryn, but why? Why the hell go to all that trouble? I mean, they have all these other neat tricks why not just create a suit to compensate?"

"The Peace Keepers were fighting the Scarrans. Again. A long protracted war of attrition. I only remember parts of the history as much of it has been passed on orally, from generation to generation, so naturally the details get lost along the way."

"Yeah, know what you mean. Things like accuracy. Like any war Aeryn, the Truth is the first casualty." "Only this *is* the truth, John." Said Zhaan gently.

He shook his head. "Sorry Zhaan, can't accept that. If everything you say is true then how come nobody knew anything about my solar system let alone Earth? How come no one had ever heard of a human before? How come my planet isn't crawling with Peace Keepers? How come I don't speak Sebacean? Na, you're gonna have to find another guinea pig to try that theory on."

"It isn't a theory." Rumbled D'Argo. He sounded reluctant, as if he did not want to be part of this debate.

"And what do Luxans know about it, big guy?"

"Only what is in the Scroll of Karok-ta."

Crichton's head was beginning to hurt. They were going round and round in circles. "Okay, you guys believe in this crap? Right?"

Cautious heads nodded. Only Chiana still looked doubtful. Aeryn looked sick and he could not blame her. Did that make them kissing cousins? He almost laughed but realised just as quickly that it wasn't even remotely funny. "If you believe it's true why wait until now to tell me?"

"I never believed it." Said Aeryn, her voice dull. "In fact I'm still finding it hard but it makes a lot of sense once you allow for the possibility."

His voice was incredulous. "Allow for the possibility?" He could hardly believe his ears. "Aeryn, this is a fairy tale. A nice story but it just isn't true."

"Why?" Her eyes locked on his, voice suddenly a lot firmer. "Why is it just a nice story?"

He did not answer right away. Surprised by the vehemence of her challenge. "I would have heard something about it, there would be mention of it in our ancient books, texts, histories..." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes as if in pain.

Zhaan took a step towards him, concerned. "What is it John?"

His eyes fluttered open again, a sick look on his face. "And the sons of God looked upon the daughters of men..." He mumbled.

Rygel frowned at him. "What the yotz is that?"

"We have holy books too, Sparky. One of them, the Bible, tells us that God made the world - Earth - and he made Adam and Eve. The first people. A male and a female. And from these two people the human race was born. It also talks about the sons of God coming to Earth and looking on the daughters of men and finding them fair, and they took them for their wives, had children and so on."

The others looked at each other. Aeryn had the ghost of a smile hovering on her stern face. "Your ancesters thought mine were Gods?"

Anger sparked in Crichton's eyes. "Hey! Don't get all holier than thou on me, Aeryn. Don't diss with my religion."

"Your religion, John?" Asked Zhaan, curious.

"Well, I don't go to church any more - obviously - but that doesn't mean I don't believe in God."

"What is the name of your God, John?" Said D'Argo.

"He doesn't have a name, or rather He does but there is some dispute about wether it is Jehovah or Jaweh and so on. We just call Him God, the Almighty, the Creator. Some - like those Masons I told you about - call Him the Architect of the Universe."

Everybody fell silent. After a few microts Crichton turned to Zhaan. "Hey, Zhaan. You got any asprin? I've got a real humdinger of a headache."

* * * * *

It had been three solar days and Crais was beginning to respond favourably to the intense and highly specialised treatment of his condition. The medical techs told Scorpius he was stable now though not off the critical list. It took several more arns to reconnect his voice box so that
speech could be restored. It was a gift that Crais would regret being given to the last breath in his body. That thought made Scorpius smile. He watched the Sebacean as he floated upright in the plexiglass tank, his eyes open and fixed on the half-Scarran with a look he could not read. It was
amazing how hard it was to read facial expressions when there were no eyebrows and no facial muscles to speak of. The chrome walkway had been erected to allow the techs to attend to the top of the tank with ease. Two medtech surgeons were on top of the gantry now, carefully poking around inside the top of Crais's brain while his neck and head was kept still in a frame attached to
the top of the tank. It must have been very painful, the anaesthetic used being minimal. They needed him awake to check his responses to stimuli introduced directly into his brain.

Scorpius watched with eager interest. He had the screen brought into the infirmary and wanted to see if they could excite his brain into recalling images from his memory which they could then project onto the screen. Unlike the Aurora Chair there would be little phyiscal pain but the mental
agony should suffice. Besides, he did not want to kill Crais. At least not yet. He hoped to find something in his memory that he could use in the capture of Crichton. His attention shifted from the screen to the Sebacean. He was stirring as if in some discomfort, the medtechs poking around inside his brain and watching the screen anxiously. Scorpius looked at the screen as images fragmented across it. He looked at Crais, saw him squirming and looking for all the world as if he was trying to block out the images. Good. Very good. Let him know the full extent of the invasion into his thoughts. His private places exposed to his enemy. His desires ripped from him until his mind bled.

The medtechs continued to explore. Found the nodes that affected his pain receptors, causing the body to jerk within the gel, unable to control the reactions stimulated within the cortex of the brain. Scorpius was pleased but wanted them to concentrate on his memories. They resumed their task slowly. Scorpius looked impassively at the former Peace Keeper Captain. "You will tell me what I want to know, Crais. Why make it harder than it has to be? All I want is Crichton and all this will end. I give you my word."

Crais began to stutter painfully. Emotion so strong in him that it was difficult for him to force the words up through his scarred throat. "N...n...never! G...g...go t..to h...hez...hez...mana."

Scorpius looked pleased. "I am glad to see you've found your voice, Crais."

Something unintelligible came out of the Sebacean. Scorpius ignored it, he was too busy watching the fragmented images on the screen resolve into focus as the medtechs refined their stimulation inside his brain.Scorpius had the screen moved so that Crais could see the images as well as relive them. As he had anticipated it upset Crais, his movements in the tank a clear indication of his rising level of stress. Scorpius had him hooked up to a heart stimulator in case it all got too much for him. For now all his life signs looked good. He nodded for the techs to continue and images began to scroll with more and more clarity. Whimpers of pain and anger bubbled up from Crais's throat. Then Scorpius saw something that grabbed his attention. He had the techs go back a bit and home in on those images. Crais and Crichton talking. The two aboard Talyn. There was something different about the way they spoke to each other, moved around one another. Something strangely intimate. Scorpius glanced at Crais. The man's heartbeat was going crazy, his attempts to resist becoming more frantic. He looked at the screen again. Crais had raised a hand and was gently touching Crichton's face, the other actually leaning into the caress. Both looked to be completely lost in each other.

The half-Scarran realised something with a jolt. The two had become more than crewmates. More even than friends. He watched momentarily mesmerised as Crais bent his dark head and kissed the human on the lips. Instead of stepping away, Crichton closed his eyes and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, their bodies touching as their hands began to caress each other. Scorpius could hardly believe what he was seeing. He watched as the two men progressed to the pod bay, Crais guiding the human backward until both were lying side by side. The slow ballet of their movements as they stripped their clothes off one another then made love. A broken cry escaped Crais's lips, moisture glistening on his ruined face from tears that fell from open ducts. Scorpius showed him no mercy. Did not stop the images but wanted to see it all. Crais's heart was aching, he could not bear it. To have that abomination soil his love for Crichton in such a despicable fashion. As the images were dragged from him Crais relived every touch of Crichton's lips on his, the sensation of his hands on his skin, the way his body moved and entered him. The beautiful rush of emotion and ecstasy as they found their climax.

He could not stand it. Was powerless to stop the rape of his memories. The force of the intrusions wounding him and filling him with a rage that had no outlet. A sorrow that was as debilitating to him in its' way as his injuries. He wanted to protect Crichton. Kill Scorpius in the most painful
and humiliating way possible. Instead he had unwittingly handed the half-Scarran the means to draw his lover to his death. Crichton. His beautiful gentle John. Scorpius found other images of them making love, the two men seemingly insatiable in their desire for one another. Stunned,
Scorpius turned to look at Crais.

"How does he do it?"

Crais said nothing. Scorpius nodded to one of the techs on the gantry. He prodded the pain receptors in Crais's head and while the images of him and Crichton making love continued to scroll across the screen and through his brain they were now accompanied by unbearable agony. He cried out, unable to hold the sound in. The pain so intense he almost blacked out. But his
tormentors had thought of that too and were able prevent any loss of consciousness. There was no way out for Bialar Crais. His trial by fire had just begun and he knew it.

"How does this deficient human manage to draw people to him? How does he irreversibly contaminate everything and everyone he touches?"

If Crais could have closed his eyes he would have. Anything to block out the image of the half-Scarran watching. He could feel Crichton's lips on him, the glorious feel of his hands stroking him with such tender assurance that it made his breath hitch with want and need and love. Now he was kissing him, tasting him in his mouth, inhaling his wonderful unique scent, his heart crying out the human's name. Lost. He was so completely lost with love and desire. Impossibly he could feel himself getting an erection. Even in the state he was in the excitation of his memories was completely undoing him. He had no control, he could only endure and that was torture enough. Scorpius watched, curious. The scientist in him drawn by the mechanics of the responses they could stimulate in the Sebacean. Ordered the technicians to continue, to control his sexual responses then watched fascinated as they manipulated him until he orgasmed. The techs froze. Shocked by what they had done and uncertain as to the response from Scorpius. When they
looked at him, the death's head mask leered back at them in sick triumph. Scorpius looked at Crais, knowing his humiliation was now complete.

* * * * *
END