Untitled Document

TITLE: REVELATIONS 9: ONE LAST TIME

SUMMARY: "Crichton has to give up Stark but first there is one more journey they have to share."

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

SEQUEL to "FORBIDDEN FRUIT".

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

"ONE LAST TIME"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

* * * * *

Never had his soul known such agony. Sorrow and pain twin fires consuming him. Stark could not bear it. Every thought. Every memory burned him. Tears turned to vapour before they could glisten on his cheek. Heart aching and raw with the impact of words unspoken. He looked at Crichton's face and knew. <Oh Zhaan, how could you bear to tell him? To inflict that knowledge on him? He is so young. You should have trusted me not to hurt him >

Crichton did not touch him, did not have to say a word. The connection so strong between them that the emotion flowed seamlessly from heart to heart, mind to mind, soul to soul. He dared not reach out to him though it was killing him to do nothing. He trembled with emotion. Wanted to explain but had no words. Stark reached out with his thoughts, touched Crichton so gently, so lovingly that he cried anew. His tears distressed Stark. "Sssh, John, don't cry."

He could not help it. God he loved Stark so much. Did not want to lose him. To have him shorten his life for love of him was more than he could bear. Could not stand the thought of him being shunned by his own people because of their 'sin'. Why was love a sin? What did it have to do with anyone else but him and Stark? It was so unfair. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block out the pain, the sorrow, and the emptiness that flooded his heart. When he opened them again Stark was looking right back at him, his faces inches from Crichton's. He knew what was going to happen next. Remembered Zhaan's warning to him. <Stark, we shouldn't touch...>

Stark ignored the warning, touched him anyway. One hand drifting gently over the planes of his face while mentally he echoed the touch of his hand in his mind. His thoughts caressing the one place where tears could never fall. Then slowly his other hand reached up and removed his mask, bathing them both in the warm living light that connected their souls. The light pulsed gentle and vibrant, memories so precious carried on feelings that redefined every emotion Crichton had ever known. He celebrated the union even as he accepted how fully he was damned. Understood that this would be a last gift. This would be goodbye.

His companion's loving thoughts dried Crichton's tears at their source, lips caressing his so gently while his hands touched and guided him on a journey he could never take with anyone else. His soul ached with the sweetness of it. Carried on his sweet breath it took him a microt to respond. <Not goodbye?>

Stark smiled gently in his mind and kissed him, all his thoughts fragmenting into bliss. Every heartache erased in a revelation so beautiful, so deep, so all encompassing and loving that he saw, felt, tasted, smelt and *knew* it on every level at the same time. Knowledge seared his flesh, his soul, his mind branding him with a totality of living consciousness that almost blew his mind. He was aware on all of those levels. He could feel Stark's kiss, his gentle touch, his thoughts creating a city in his mind peopled with every hope, wish and desire they had ever shared. Ever cherished. All brought into form so that he could see, taste, touch, feel the reality of what they had between them. It brought tears to his eyes, made his heart ache with a joy so exquisite it was like a sweet unbearable pain. Tears which Stark blessed with love, cherishing each one that fell from his eyes as if they were precious jewels. It reminded him oddly enough of the Emperor Nero who was said to have collected his tears in a special tiny vase. Only this was no vanity, no nepotism gone mad. This was love.

He drew him into his soul so slowly, using his own energy to cushion the effect of the experience and raise Crichton's vibrations to a level that would sync with the journey. Raising him up on wings so fine that without his aid the fire, the light, the passion would surely kill him. Loving him as he carried him, his thoughts giving gentle instruction which Crichton absorbed without conscious effort or thought. He wanted him to know how fully, how deeply, how utterly he was loved. To leave no part of him closed off or hidden. This was the last doorway, the final portal. The one behind which all his greatest joy and pain lay sleeping. Crichton wanted to tell him that he already knew but Stark wanted to tell him, to write his feelings in his flesh, imprint them in his heart and fashion their likeness in his mind forever in a merging that was beyond anything he had experienced before.
If this was to be the last time then he wanted to leave nothing unsaid, nothing unfelt, nothing unknown. It would make the parting harder in the short term because of the intensity of their feelings but the memories would be sweeter and more enduring in the long run. In the years to come they would comfort Crichton and allow his heart to heal. To love again.

Crichton gasped, his little expellation of breath drawn in by his partner and given new energy before being pumped back gently into his lungs. Unwrapped but sealed with a kiss. Another gift. So tiny. So inconsequential. So typically loving that his eyes burned. Stark wasted nothing. It was all precious to him. As Crichton was precious to him. <Are you ready?>

The thought shivered through every atom of Crichton's body and mind. Delicious, enervating. <Ready for what?> He could not imagine that there could anything else for him to see, to know, to touch. But he was wrong.

* * * * *

Aeryn could not stop pacing the apothecary. Zhaan watched her from the corner of her eye, only partly engrossed in separating and blending different combinations of the various herbs she was mixing. Making up her unique blend of medicines and tinctures, ointments and draughts. Aeryn spun round and came to a halt in front of her.

"What the frell are they doing?"

Zhaan raised her eyebrows. "I would have thought that was obvious."

"I don't mean *that*." She snapped back.

The Delvian priestess sighed and put the jar and pippet down. It was no use pretending that Aeryn would let her work while they waited. "Aeryn, this is a delicate matter. We cannot interfere."

Anger blazed in Aeryn's eyes. "How *dare* you say that, Zhaan! After all your interfering."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"No, of course not Zhaan. You just put an end to something so beautiful and then expect that everyone will thank you for your meddling afterwards."

Zhaan's eyes narrowed. She had to remind herself that Aeryn was upset, that she could not realise the full import of what she was saying but it was hard. They had never been friends exactly but they were allies and had formed a kind of truce which up until now they had stuck to. Zhaan could see the glue vanishing before her eyes, the truce disolving in Aeryn's anger. A blaze of fury that would not be silenced by calm words or platitudes. "Aeryn, I had to tell him."

"Why, Zhaan? Why did you have to be the one to ruin everything?"

"I was trying to save him, save him and Stark."

"What gives you that right?"

Zhaan looked at her for a moment, seeing herself as Aeryn saw her. She inclined her head sadly, graceful even in sorrow. "Love gives me that right. Love and a knowledge that you do not have."

"What knowledge?"

"I have shared unity with John. I have also shared unity with Stark. I know things you cannot know, Aeryn. Things John would have been unprepared for. Do not make the mistake of thinking I would have wished for this. I would not."

Aeryn glared at her for another microt then her anger evaporated in frustration. She was not really angry with Zhaan. Knew deep down that she should be grateful to her, but she had spent most of last night on the Terrace cradling John in her arms, rocking him as he wept. The memory of it pained her still. "It isn't fair. He doesn't deserve this." She murmured.

Zhaan gently touched Aeryn's arm. "No he doesn't, but he's stronger than you think."

Aeryn looked at her, blinking back the threat of tears. "He was so sad, Zhaan." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I've never seen him like that before. It was as if his heart was broken and there was nothing I could do to mend it."

* * * * *

He was amazed. He had never known anything like it. Had no words to describe the chorus that greeted him as Stark adjusted his energy. Gently wrapping him in a love that expanded his consciousness and carried him into the midst of a harmony of voices that touched, greeted, evaluated, tasted, prodded his mind with curious fingers of alien thought. He vibrated under their scrutiny, stretched so thin by distance and the rapidly rising level of his energy, that the influx of information nearly overpowered him. Sensations rocking him on a thousand levels of feeling. Every thought another hand that brushed his mind, sending tingling tendrils through a body so sensitised that he felt as if he were drowning. He did not drown. Did not even wet his face. He opened his mouth but no speech came out, his vocal chords trembling but silent. Every atom listening, absorbing directly into his consciousness the panorama of a world bathed in light. A light that sang through him as if it were playing him like some instrument. He trembled at their touch, not sure if he was hearing or sensing Stark's gentle instructions. <Be passive, John. Open yourself to them. Let them enter you, touch you, taste you, familiarise themselves with you. Accept everything. Do not judge>

He felt himself rocked with the mounting sensations. God, this was so far above anything he had ever experienced before. If it was not so frightening it would be erotic. <You want me not to judge?>

Stark smiled at the disbelief that tinged his thought. <The time for judgement is not now>

He accepted that and tried to relax, opening himself up as Stark had shown him. The moment he did so the mix of energies shifted. So subtle yet so invasive. They poured through him too fast, he was reeling, unable to hang on to his sanity. He cried out, tears pricked by sensations he could not absorb. Then he felt calm wash through him, Stark's loving presence easing his discomfort, helping him to remove the walls he was trying to rebuild to shut them out. A kiss from his lips touching his soul, quietening the panic in his heart and sheltering him with love. His heartbeat steadied, phantom fingers touching him, other hands exploring, other minds prodding, probing, not always as tactfully or as gently as they should. He winced a few times, and sometimes his reactions produced more painful explorations but he withstood it, clinging to Stark's presence while they tested the limits of his boundaries. Stark was his lifeline. The last bridge to sanity. If he lost hold of that everything would be lost. He felt a smile in his mind, growing gently, touching him with humour and love.

He frowned. Who was that? <Stark, is that you?>

The humour brushed his mind again. Not as subtle as Stark, but gentle, curious. <My name is Lenith>

<Lenith?>

He savoured the word, wondering what it meant. Who it was.

Crichton smiled for the first time since this journey had started. < Starborn? I like that, Lenith. It's beautiful>

Something that might have been laughter trickled through him, a warm rush touching him which told him his thought pleased her. Her? How had he known Lenith was a her?

Another energy. He was beginning to distinguish between them now. As he formed a reply to the new voice he could feel Lenith touching his thoughts, her energy exploring him setting off little tremors as she did so. God, this was weird. He fought to concentrate, not wanting to cause offence. <Yes. For a while at least>

He felt the energy swamp him with curiosity. <For a while?>

<Yeah. We can't stay together>

A rush of voices swamped the one who had spoken, sending little spikes of pain radiating through Crichton so he trembled and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself open to them, to not shut down. Stark intervened gently. His thoughts a hush that drove them back. The voices felt like a swarm, insects descending en masse. Now the buzz was a faint hum again, single voices
intruding gently, wanting to know him, to understand why Stark had brought him to them. Why an alien should be made a party to this greatest of mysteries.

He swallowed hard. The pain and sorrow welling in him being unconsciously transmitted to the swarm. It caused an increase in activity as they touched him with alarm. Gradually the cacophony of sensations died down, but they were closer to him now. Like a film covering his physical body, they clung to his energy and vibrated with him. Listening, touching, drinking in his thoughts and sifting through his emotions. Trying to reach him, to understand. When he cried many of them caught his tears, the echo cradled in their minds so they could examine it. Curious hands reached for him, wanting to ease his pain. It took a great effort to open himself up again but he felt something akin to a cautious approval, as if they appreciated that he was trying to meet them halfway. He had no idea why he thought that or why he felt as if he had somehow managed to pass some kind of
test. Why would they be testing him?

He did not know the energy. <No. I am human>

<Human?>

Several energies hummed. He could feel their interest, their curiosity and found himself amused. His humour surprised them and attracted more energies to merge with him. He sucked in a breath. God he was so sensitive right now. If someone breathed on him he would be ripped apart like a cobweb in a hurricane.

<What's a hurricane?>

<What's a cobweb?>

He laughed. His body rocked with the absurdity of it. The energies now ran riot through him, anxiously trying to understand his humour. To know if he was somehow in pain. <No, no, I'm alright. Really. It's a human thing>

They steadied and he could breathe again.

<Human? Explain human>

He thought about that. <I'm guessing you guys are Banik?>

The hum was a positive chorus.

<Okay. Well I'm a human. I look a lot like a Sebaccean but my DNA is different. There are a few other differences too but they're the species I most resemble. I can also tolerate heat better than they can>

Ah. That was a tricky one. <A planet called Earth. It's not in this part of the solar system. In fact, I don't even *know* where this part of the solar system is>

He felt their confusion. He could not blame them. <How did you get here? >

He paused, wondering how on earth he was going to explain the concept to them. He felt Stark touch his mind gently. <They will understand, just explain>

<Okay, Stark, if you say so> He paused to collect his thoughts and explained about the Farscape Project, how he had got sucked through a wormhole and ended up in the middle of a battle in a part of the galaxy he did not recognise and among alien races he had never known existed before. They were surprisingly patient. When he finished explaining he felt several minds now touching his. Not the tentative thought trails of energy signatures that typified what he came to think of as the swarm but minds verging on full contact. He did not know how he knew that but some instinct told him this was important. So he waited and opened himself up as far as he could. Practising the art of being passive, receptive and open. It was a lot harder than he would have thought. A new radical form of trust. It made him feel uneasy, naked, exposed. Vulnerable. A bit like stepping into a potentially hostile crowd of strangers and taking all your clothes off to show you were not armed.

He felt humour, deep and lustrous touch his mind. It was so definite that he jumped at the contact. The touch was strong, assured. It felt masculine. <You have a good mind>

He nodded. <We live on the same ship. A leviathan>

<No> The voice gently admonished. He could feel its' silky depths touch his thoughts making him shiver slightly. <Your connection not your ship>

That made him chuckle. <Sorry. The ship is how I know Stark though it's now how we met>

He could feel other voices hovering, listening, drinking in his replies. A weird sensation was crawling through his brain, a thousand fingers touching and stroking his mind, curious and more daring in their exploration. He tried not to think about them, concentrating only on what he was being asked. <I was captured. Stark was in the same Peace Keeper cell. We were tortured. Stark helped me keep my sanity>

Something sang in his heart and vibrated through his energy, touching all those who now touched him. <Yeah>

He felt a smile touch him but could not tell whose smile it was. Somehow identities no longer mattered. <You said you could only stay with him for a while>

Pain contracted his heart, his energy changed and tremours radiated out from him. <Yeah. If we stay connected then Stark's energy will deplete. As I understand it, it has to be replaced, replenished>

This time the deep voice touching his mind was much gentler. <Explain>

He sighed. <When I die, Stark wants to follow me. I can't let that happen. I don't want him to die just so he can be with me>

He fought to hold back the tide of emotion rising in him. The gentle frantic touches from the others told him his sorrow and pain distressed them. But he could not help it. Gradually the connection faded and he felt Stark cradling him in his arms. His lips on his, his mind telling him not to cry, to celebrate what they had.

Stark rocked him gently, kissed him and held him as he cried. <Do you know where you have been?> He whispered in his mind.

<No>

Stark smiled and Crichton was so surprised he stopped crying. He pulled away from his friend's embrace so he could look into his eyes.

<You've been to my home planet>

He laughed and kissed him more deeply, his hands touching him and caressing him. His mind ringing with joy.

"Wait. Stark. I don't understand."

Stark continued to kiss him deeply for a microt, wanting to taste him, to savour him a little longer. He was amused that in his surprise, Crichton had started to talk out loud. It seemed to be a peculiarly human habit. Stark would humour him for now. "I increased your energy level so I could take you to my home, introduce you to my people."

He frowned. "And?"

Stark kissed him again. <They love you>

Crichton could not believe what he was being told. He sat up. Stark draped an arm around him, looking so calm and pleased that he knew it had to be true. But he was still stunned. "How can they love me? They don't even *know* me."

He shook his head. "Yes, they do. Those thoughts you could feel? All that prodding and probing? That was them exploring your mind, living your memories."

He went cold. "Living my memories?"

Stark drew a gentle hand down his face, kissed him gently on the cheek and continued to stroke him gently down the side of his neck, his actions intended to calm him. "Yes. They *know* you. They have witnessed in our minds the way we feel about each other, how we connect, and the journey we have taken to arrive here."

Anger started to build in him. Stark soothed his thoughts, loving touches within his mind assuring him that this was not a violation. <They are not like you, John>

That hurt Stark. He was instantly sorry. Looked deep into his eyes in wordless apology. "I shouldn't have thought that."

Stark shook it off. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does. If this is to be our last intimacy together, Stark, it matters. Believe me."

He gave him a curious look. "Why?"

Crichton reached out and touched him so gently Stark sighed. "Because when we look back on this night I want it to be with joy. No shadow hanging over us, no soiled memories, no pain and most of all no regrets."

Stark regarded him for a few microts in silence. "You ask a lot."

He smiled and gently kissed him. "Then it's time you paid up."

"Paid up?"

He slid a hand between Stark's legs and deepened his kiss, only coming up briefly for air. "Oh yeah. I want to make this the longest goodbye in history."

Stark chuckled and started to undo his shirt. The human always wore too many clothes. <This isn't goodbye, John. I'll still be here>

His heart ached. "Yeah, but you won't be mine any more."

The Banik paused and looked at him. His mask was still off, the light a soft pulsating rythym that they would soon match as they made love. One last time. <I will always be yours no matter who you choose to bring into your life when we no longer merge>

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Stark kissed him gently, his kisses becoming deeper, more probing as he gently pushed him back on the bed. "Lie back and I'll show you."

END