TITLE: REVELATIONS 3 INSOMIA

AUTHOR: Alison M Dobell

SUMMARY: "Since escaping from the clutches of Scorpius, Crichton finds himself bound to Stark."

Rated 'R' for sensuality and m/m mild slash.

The SEQUEL to "THE BOX".

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

Comments please to: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

"INSOMNIA"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

Moya. God, it sure felt good to be back. Home. Or the nearest thing he would ever find to home in the Unchartered Terratories. He thought back to the moment Aeryn had appeared at his cell. The moment Stark had thought he had betrayed him to the PeaceKeepers. Stark's surprise when instead of killing them Aeryn had dispatched the guard then turned to them. He recalled it in vivid technicolour and cinemascope. Dolby surround sound. You name it, it was there in spades. DVD never looked so good. He could hear Aeryn's cool voice, softened with concern as she looked at him. "Are you alright?"

Then Stark. "Who's that?"

And he had replied, "That is the radiant Aeryn Sun!"

"Just how many PeaceKeepers do you know?"

That now seemed a long long time ago, though it could be no more than a couple of days. Thirty or forty arns as a leviathan flies. They had all been happy to see him. Even Rygel had been concerned, like a grumpy grandparent worried out of his mind by a wayward child. Relieved to have the cause of his concern back under the watchful eye of the family. Family. That was what this weird psychotic group of aliens was to him now. Family. And then there was Stark. Zhaan had checked him over pretty thoroughly, mixed a few potions, given him clear precise instructions on how to take them, then he had been sent off to his quarters to sleep. Sleep. How could he sleep? Every time he closed his eyes images of Scorpius appeared. His heartbeat would quicken and it would feel as if the Scarran half breed was in the room with him. So real that it scared the hell out of him. Then he would realise there was no one there. He was not sure what scared him more. The nightmare visions or the thought that he was losing his frelling mind. And then there was Stark. Stark. He smiled and looked at the man lying in his arms. He was asleep. Naked and beautiful. And his. His pliant body resting against his, flesh on flesh. He had his mask on again.

Crichton touched the mask gently. Reverently. Ran an awed finger along its' contours, marvelling at how it had been formed to the shape of Stark's face. He stroked the mask with a wondering finger, remembering. The light, the beautiful visions, the peace, the love. His heart warmed at the thought of what this man had done for him. Stark stirred softly in his sleep. Crichton's smile was tender. A blessing conferred on him in flesh. His hand drifted from the mask to the visible side of Stark's face. With incredible gentleness he touched him, drew his hand across the planes of his face. Let his fingers gently read the details for him, loving the feel of him beneath him, the way his warm body felt against his own. The sensation of being totally loved and protected with nothing expected in return. It made him want to cry but he did not. He took his hand away and leant over the
sleeping form, breathed a kiss on his lips. A sigh from the heart. Stark stirred and his left eye opened. He remained relaxed, his body open to him. Neither inviting nor denying him. Waiting. Not wanting to push, to demand, but to understand the thoughts running through Crichton's head.

"I couldn't sleep." He whispered.

Stark nodded. Silent. His look speaking for him. Crichton kissed him softly, allowing his full lips to experience the sweetness. He did not want to rush. To spoil the tenderness of the moment. He put his heart into that kiss, opening it like a rare gift. Stark opened his mouth and did nothing. He waited. Wanted Crichton to nudge him in whatever direction he wanted the
moment to go in. Crichton's smile widened slightly. He loved that about Stark. The total trust he placed in him moved him more than he could say. It touched him and that in turn intensified the feelings he had for him. Was it love? Sex? Hell, he didn't know. It was comfort. Compassion. Mutual aid and succour. But was it love? He loved him, sure he did. At least that was what he would have called it but did this kind of connection have a name? They had formed a bond. A strange exotic coupling that he knew was sex yet wasn't. It was not simply getting off. Looking for the next orgasm. That didn't do it for him and he was sure that it was not what Stark was about either. So what the hell was it? Why on earth was he lying here making love to another man and an alien one at that? Alien. Was that the clue? Or was it the condiment? The spice that made everything else about him taste so good? Darned if he knew. Damned if he cared.

Crichton smiled softly, his hands feathering the soft skin beside him. He loved the way he felt, the way his body responded to him. There was something so seductive about taking him like this. So gently, so slowly, that every sensation could be tasted, appreciated and savoured. It thrilled him, made him crazy with an odd kind of desire that started somewhere in the base of his spine and the back of his head at the same time. Weird. Exotic. Compelling. He kissed him again, dragging his lips across his as he tasted him with his tongue, his body moving in slow time, his hands caressing and smoothing the friction from his calloused hands into a touch so light that Stark shivered with pleasure at his touch. Somehow when Stark had removed his mask a connection had formed between them. Not telepathic but definitely empathic. What he felt Stark felt and vice versa. It was an erotic heightening of sensitivity. The way the anticipation would slowly build, first in individual touches, caresses, kisses - then in a medly of sensations as they gently progressed and pleasured each other until their thoughts and feelings merged in a mental coitus that presaged the real thing. When the damn burst it was like being blasted clear into orbit. They were out of the frelling solar system. Beyond the reach of anything and everything. Their senses taking them so high not even God could find them.

* * * * *

Aeryn Sun was busy but Pilot had asked to see her. She gave her prowler a last critical look then put down her scanner and went to see what he wanted. Pilot had an odd expression on his face. Since being injected with pilot's DNA by NamTar, Aeryn had formed a deep bond with him and with Moya. She could often sense what the ship was feeling, what the different sections of Moya wanted or needed. She could also tell when Pilot was upset, happy, sad or annoyed. This was different. He seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind. "Thank you for coming, Officer Sun."

She wondered why he was so formal. "You're welcome Pilot. Is something wrong with Moya?"

"No, Moya is fine."

"What about you?"

"I am fine too, Aeryn. I am worried about Crichton."

Aeryn frowned. Crichton? What had he done now? "Okay Pilot, tell me what's happened."

Pilot looked at her. "Nothing. At least, nothing *wrong* exactly..."

She looked puzzled. "Just tell me what it is and let me decide."

He tilted his head as if not sure he should tell her.

"Look, if something's wrong with Crichton I need to know."

"It was the DRDs. They were doing routine maintenance. One of them was in the vicinity of Crichton's quarters..."

His voice trailed off. Aeryn was getting impatient. "And?"

"Perhaps you should see for yourself."

Aeryn nodded. At last. Now she could find out what was troubling Pilot. "Show me."

Pilot brought up the images from the DRD in Crichton's quarters. It was at an odd angle but it showed Crichton and Stark lying on the bed. Both were naked. Aeryn's eyes widened. She went round the consol and sat next to Pilot. She tilted her head to work out exactly what she was seeing. "Tell me that isn't Crichton kissing Stark?"

"I think that is *exactly* what it is, Aeryn."

Her breath caught a little as she saw what Crichton was doing with his hands and the way Stark was arching his body into the contact. She tilted her head the other way and her mouth formed a round o shape. Pilot was tilting his clam shaped head in unison with Aeryn, both of them trying to work out what the two men thought they were doing. An absorbed clinical look
was on Aeryn's face. "I didn't know he could do that."

"Neither did I." Said Pilot thoughtfully.

Aeryn winced. "That looks painful."

Pilot tilted his head the other way. Definitely feeling out of his depth. "The opening looks too small."

Then Pilot's mouth formed a large o and both of them stared.

"Apparently not." Said Aeryn.

Pilot looked at Aeryn. "Do you want sound?"

She shook her head and grimaced. "No thank you, Pilot. I haven't eaten yet."

Pilot nodded. "What should we do?"

"Do? Why *do* anything?"

"It looks...." Pilot trailed off, not having any words for the uncomfortable feeling it gave him. Aeryn leaned over his console and shut the images off.

"It looks *private*, Pilot."

Pilot looked at her a little shame faced. "I didn't mean...It's just I thought something must be wrong."

"It's okay, Pilot. If Crichton wants to talk about it he will."

"And if not?"

She gave him a little smile. "Then he doesn't need to know we know, does he?"

Pilot raised his eyebrows and thought about that. "I suppose that would be alright."

Aeryn jumped down. "Yes it would. Now. I have work to do on my prowler. Was there anything else, Pilot?"

"No. Thank you, Aeryn."

* * * * *

Crichton was out on the terrace. He felt a confusion of emotions and needed time on his own to think about everything. Stark agreed with him. It felt as if he had been waiting for him to suggest it. He was not sure how he felt. About Stark. Aeryn. Love. The whole nine yards. He knew he loved Aeryn. Or at least, *wanted* to love Aeryn. But that particular horse had yet to be saddled. And then there was Stark. Stark. He sighed and gazed out at the stars. The view as always instilling a sense of wonder and awe, calming down the turbulent mix of emotions that seemed at odds with every definition he knew for common sense. What the hell did he think he was doing? He stood there for a couple of arns. Just thinking and no nearer to
a solution. He did not hear Aeryn come in. Had no idea how long she had been standing behind him.

"Hey!"

He turned his head enough to see her. "Hey."

A pause. "You alright?"

He looked back at the starfield. "Yeah."

Another pause. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

Aeryn nodded to herself. Looked at the field of stars and spent a moment just enjoying the view then quietly turned and left the terrace. A few minutes passed. Crichton did not realise she had gone. He turned his head to speak to her then realised she was no longer there. Story of his life. He sighed and turned his head back to the starfield. What was he going to do about Aeryn? Did she have any idea how he felt about her? Then he thought about his feelings. Trying to be as honest with himself as he could. What did he feel for Aeryn? Yes, he cared about her. Deeply. Was sure he was falling head over heels in love with her. Sort of. So why was he spending all his time with Stark? What was the attraction? Why did all his worries disappear when he was with him? With Stark he felt more than loved, he felt safe. Was that why he was drawn to the former Banik slave? Because in his arms he could be free of Scorpius? A shiver went through him. Was he being honest with Stark or just using him? He was not sure and that troubled him. Was he being honest with himself? For some reason that troubled him even more. He sighed. He did not want to be alone any more. When he was alone the nightmares would come. As if Scorpius was waiting for him. He turned around. He wanted Stark. Needed him. Aeryn would not understand. Not yet.
And if she could, would he ever have the courage to tell her? Maybe one day but not today. He loved Aeryn but he needed Stark.

Stark did not seem surprised to see him when Crichton turned up at his quarters. He smiled and Crichton was glad he had come. Stark sat with him and let him talk. He talked about his childhood. His father. His mother. DK. The folks back home. American football. Hotdogs. The Yankee Stadium. All the things he missed about Earth. All the people he might never see
again. Everything that had once given his life meaning. Stark did not interrupt. When he was all talked out Stark cradled the side of his face with his hand. "Sleep."

He shook his head. Wishing he could do something about this damned insomnia. "I can't sleep."

"I'll watch over you."

Crichton looked at him. Did not ask him why he was so good to him. They both knew why. He understood. That was why he was with Stark and not Aeryn. Crichton nodded and let Stark kiss him gently on the forehead. He was tired. Confused. Frightened to close his eyes. Stark undressed him and then undressed himself. He then climbed into bed beside Crichton and wrapped his body around the human, cradling his back to his chest, one hand lightly stroking his chest to soothe the pounding of his heart. "Go to sleep." He whispered.

He nodded, eyes starting to grow heavy. "Thanks, Stark."

Stark kissed his shoulder and closed his eye. Crichton fell into a swift and dreamless sleep. And true to his word Stark watched over him and kept the frelling nightmares at bay...

********** T H E E N D **********