Have we sent the "Don't shoot, we're pathetic" transmission yet?

It's a rare moment on Moya these days, when the crew gathers together for dinner. But, schedules seemed to have aligned and there they sit, all of them.

D'Argo and Chiana bicker halfheartedly over a dish that, to John, looks a lot like a pile of leaves covered in mayo, but he's not the best to gauge what's what on the menu. Rygel, like usual, is stuffing his face with whatever he can get his grubby little hands on; Grandma seems more interested in mixing things together and spitting on them than eating.

Even Scorpy and Sikozu are at the table, though neither is eating much, and looking at them is definitely setting John's stomach to "vomit".

Aeryn sits across from him, her foot against his under the table. Secret, comforting. Can't let Scorpy know.

As for John himself, he's barely picking at his meal. Wormholes and equations flit through his brain, punctuated by flashes of Harvey uttering nonsense to him in a nauseous whirl that has him grimacing down at his plate.

"John," D'Argo sighs when the astronaut stands from the table suddenly. "What's wrong--"

He doesn't answer, just waves him off, stopping only to grab 1812 off the floor, tucking the DRD under his arm (who flails his little flashlight eyes and beeps indignantly at him). When he reaches his room he sets 1812 down and whistles the first few bars of the overture, indicating that the DRD should continue. Which he does, as always.

His hand shakes a little as he grabs his pen, flipping through his journal for a blank page. Something just clicked, at the dinner table, something he'd been missing about wormholes. He's got to get this down. Food can wait, his body can wait, right now he has to get this out.

HOW'S MY DRIVING? Let me know how I'm doing. Nicely, though, please. John has a problem with his feelings being hurt :/

John brings Jo in through a door on some random planet they had stopped at for some R&R. He doesn't have to keep a hand on hers, but he does...just in case. There are plenty of sketchy people around here who would like nothing more than to steal such a pretty blonde.

They make it back to the shuttle fine, and head back up to Moya. John's formulating a story about Jo for the crew and at the same time, trying to explain things to Jo without crashing them into the side of Moya (he uses his hands a lot ok).

"Okay, so there's D'argo, the big guy with tentacles on his face...Jool, the crazy shrieky redhead, Chiana, she's the grey one...and Rygel is the frog lookin' thing that is really annoying. Pilot uh...is the pilot. Moya the ship. Have I missed anything?"

Time moved forward again.

(Time always moved forward. Forward, forward, forward.)

He settled in with Elak and her Pilot. He painted a DRD red, white and blue, taught it the 1812 Overture...

every inch of available space is covered in wormhole equations. It's Scorpy's wet dream.

A strange red-headed alien (he knew this one. Sputnik. She's less tolerant in real life than Milliways) shows up, followed by the bad guys. They want Pilot for...something. Sikozu started talking and John stopped listening.

Until they started shooting. Then he listened real good. They run, there's some kind of hound after them, they run run run run--

1812 shoots and protects, making it easier for them to get away. It would be even easier to get away if John could stop daydreaming about a pregnant Aeryn Sun.

Chiana and Rygel show back up (completely randomly, it seems. Seriously, weren't they in the middle of a battle just now? And...John chooses this moment to shave? He really is going insane) and are both worth millions now, thanks to Grayza putting bounties on their heads.

It's fantastic.



They win that battle. They always do...even if it means Sikozu has lost her hand (Chiana better not drop it, no one wants to hear Sputnik insult them more). He told Aeryn that he wouldn't be coming back. He's got work to do, gotta re-write all of the equations now that Sputnik messed 'em up. He's no one to her now, not even in his own mind.

He's no one.

Neither one of them was quite sure how it happens.

(But it happened, and that's the important part).

All he knew is that black shirt John took his gun...took his journal...took Aeryn. And when he ranted to Aeryn about it in Milliways, she only gave him pained looks...or no looks at all. He finally gave up on the subject.

He had her there, after all. And that's what made it so hard to leave again. But one morning he woke her up (which was weird in itself, as she was constantly bugging him to get out of bed...but the hour had been so obscene that even she hadn't been awake yet. He could remember the time distinctly.

3:23 am. He'd always remember that time. Time is something John always remembered). One morning he woke her up with a gentle shake and a breathy Aeryn, and she rolled over to look at him, squinting in the darkness.

"It's time to go." He murmured, drawing his hand down her side. Her gaze sharpened in the night, calculating and seemingly calm but underneath her knitted eyebrows, John could tell she was thinking. Asking herself questions.

How does he know it's time and how does he sound so sure and how will this happen it's going to fail and--

Maybe those were just his thoughts he had been projecting onto her. Because John was terrified and it showed in every misbuttoned button, every shoelace left untied. Aeryn told him he looked like a mess. He had to agree. He felt like a mess.

He almost chickened out running down the stairs, tugging her along but when he looked back behind his shoulder, she was there. And he wanted her back in his world. He slipped through the door, tugging her with him and she didn't end up beside him.

But the next time he was back in Milliways, she wasn't there. So something had to have gone right. Something.

Time passed and he didn't know where she was and then one day a shuttle from Talyn appeared (at the rendezvous point, just like they promised) and she stepped off that ship. There was something different but it was Aeryn and dear gods he had missed her.

And then they told him. The other him was dead. Radiation. He died.

He had died. John Crichton, son of Jack and Leslie Crichton...was dead.

John Crichton finally understood what everyone had said when they whispered the words "you're dead" to him. And while it hurt and it hurt seeing Aeryn upset...he felt relieved.

He kept his promise to Plourr. He found a way out of death...unless, of course, he was stupidly going to trip out of an airlock within the next few months, which was always a possibility when dealing with Crichton.

(He made sure to be careful around airlocks after thinking this thought. It'd really suck to have to come back to Milliways and explain to Plourr that yeah, he survived nuclear shit but damn those two left feet!)

And before he can figure anything out? Before he can really talk to to Aeryn about what happened?

He trips through a doorway and ends up back in Milliways.

Well this was not fun. Not fun at all.

He knew that he would end up back here, on this dying Leviathan, full of dead creepy people and their dead creepiness. And he knew that the mad scientist guy would be following him around.

But he didn't expect to be encased in one of these bubble things at the last second. That was the part that really sucked. He couldn't see. It was black.

And suddenly...suddenly he was back out on the ground, gasping for breath.

And he heard his name. D'Argo, calling his name. John bolted up and ran towards it, ducking explosions left and right. He reached D'Argo and skidded to a halt. "D'Argo!"

"Are you okay?" The Luxan looked at him intently.

An explosion erupted behind John and he ducked. "Yeah, we'll talk about it later."

He grabbed D'Argo's shoulder and pushed him towards the maintenance bay. He paused as he saw Jool standing halfway between the pod and the rest of the hangar. "Jool, you're alive!"

Jool looked exasperated and rushed. "Come on, hurry up! Chiana, let's go!"

"Chiana!" John cried out, looking at the pod as he and D'Argo moved past Jool, towards the pod doors. He was halfway up the steps when--

"Hold the door!"

That voice sounded frelling familiar. John turned to look behind him. Where John stood. What.

"Jool, you're alive!" John said to the red-head, while Jool and D'Argo just stared. John raised his eyebrows, and blinked. A lot.

The two Johns stared at each other, both tilting their heads identically in an oh I just don't believe this manner. Watching.

---

The Leviathan tugs apart.

Chiana pilots the transport pod away as the two Crichtons stare at one another. Frelling weird.

---

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."

Rock. Both of them, rock.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."

Paper.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."

Paper again.

John stroked his thumb over his eyebrow, just below the cut that is duplicated on the face across from him. With identical movements, the two Johns press their thumbs against their lips.

Obvious that they are trying to come to a conclusion.

None come.

They move back into their game.

I doubled you. I ...twinned you. Equal...and original.

John worked hard today. And he looked nice too. Freshly showered, in nice clothes. Their room had been rearranged so that there was a table in the middle of the room, tableclothed with white, and flowers and candles in the middle. Two chairs had been set at the table and plates and cups.

Food was brought in by waitrats, chittering at John as he nodded, slowly. "Yeah, just put it down on that table, thank you."

Now. Where was Aeryn?

John was soooo nervous.

It's cold outside.

With his hands shoved in his pockets of a jacket, and he was wearing old jeans (and Bar managed to make them look like one of his favourite pairs back home and they even smell of his sister's lavender detergent), he can blow out his breath and it comes out in white puffs of visible air and it makes him grin.

Never this cold in Florida. He's been to Maine a few times, visiting friends. Family. Always loved the cold air. The stark way it made him able to breathe clearer...and made his nose run.

He grinned. And felt like a child. And loved every second of it.