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

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.

No one can tell them apart. Aeryn, tired of their arguing, gives one a green shirt and the other stays in the black.

Things go wrong. They always do. And it just keeps getting worse. Bombs and poisoned chromextin. Talyn screams through Crais.

People die. People lie. Talyn is scanned by the Peacekeepers and he takes off, immediately.

(black-shirt John, Aeryn, Stark and Rygel are all there with Crais)

John stood in his room, D'Argo behind him.

Winona's gone. Notebook, gone. His favourite shirt, gone.

Aeryn, gone.

He finds it a little harder to move on.

He'd put this off for far too long. Everytime he spoke to Sarah, he promised her that he'd talk to Aeryn. Hell, he'd told Atton Fucking Rand before he'd told Aeryn. And it shouldn't have been such a big deal.

The door was back. He was going to go through it. The end.

But it was so much more than that. He didn't want to leave Aeryn. He didn't want to hurt her and he didn't want to die, leaving her to become that...shell of a person she'd once been.

He sat on the edge of his--their--bed, running a hand over his eyes. He'd tell her when she came back to their room.

At least he'd try to.

The room that John shared with Aeryn had suddenly become...uninhabitable as of late.

Uninhabitable here means, John had gone insane again and decided to write equations on every single available source of paper, scribbling them down and then taping them to walls, bed, tables, chairs, doors, floor spaces, his own forehead.

And then he remembered that he actually shares this room with someone...and he invited Sarah Jane up here today and oh shit was that the time?!

And so he began grabbing up all the papers, stuffing them into drawers, into the couch, into his pillow case, into the pockets of clothes hanging in the closet, until everything was clean. Ish.

Except his forehead of course.

The door opened and he grinned innocently at Aeryn, who had just walked in. "Hey babe."

He killed her

Grunchlk and Tocot led him back to the surgery room, D'Argo and the others trailing behind slowly. John went placidly, his hands still bound, dragging chains behind him. He knew why they were doing this. He understood.

He killed her

He laid down on the surgical table, and closed his eyes as Tocot strapped him in, then busies himself with getting supplies ready. A moment later, the lights go out and the germ-killing light replaces it. Tocot removed his headgear as Grunchlk leaned his smelly body over to look at John. "Are you sure you don't want your friends here?"

"No. I don't want 'em here."

Tocot spoke up, whistling and clicking and burbling in his strange language, and John didn't even try to decipher what he was saying. Grunschlk looked at him, then back down at John. "Doc says, 'cause of that thing in your brain, there's no way you were responsibile for what happened to that Sebacean.

John spared him a cold glance and then looked back up at the ceiling. "Yes I am."

The doctor spoke again and Grunchlk nodded. "Right. After the Doc's cut the tendrils that have hijacked your brain, he's gonna try to take out the neruochip completely. But he needs your help."

Crichton stared straight ahead, resigned. "What do I gotta do?"

Grunchlk gestured with his hands, "Because there is no template of your brain pattern on our database, he doesn'tknow what bits of gray do what. So when he probes, you tell him."

John nodded. "Right. Where will you be?"

"Anywhere else." Grunchlk shook his head. "I vomit when things get messy."

John smiled slightly at the idea as the man left the room.

Time passed. The doctor touched each tendril, and in turn John told him what it was. Critters. Specifically ones from this Galaxy. Keep it. American politics: Nixon to Clinton, lose it. All his dogs. Keep it if you can.

"This one?"

John started. Memories that hadn't surfaced in a very long time. Scorpius took him over once before...in another place. A blonde girl's face flitted before his eyes; Meg...and another's face...

Angelina. He choked a little at the memories. Andrew. Milliways. A place he'd never go back to, he was sure of it. Not when he was living in this hell. Life was not so kind.

He killed her

"Old memories. Uh..." His face twitched a little at the conflicting emotions. Get rid of the memories forever so he never has to remember a place where he wrecked just as much havoc as he did here, or keep them so he could remember the faces of those he cared about.

But what was the point in caring, if he never saw them again? "Get rid of 'em."

He killed her

"This...section?"

John gasped. Aeryn, in all their most intimate and dangerous times, played out in front of his eyes. He opened his eyes quickly, desperate to not see her face anymore. Please just no more.

"Keep...this?"

John stayed silent, fingers twitching at his sides, closing his eyes slowly. Silently. Then, softly: "Keep it."

More time. More memories. Some he kept, some he lost. He was growing tired of it, tired of seeing his life flash before his eyes, tired of--

Blue swirling masses, his module disappearing against a wall of it, hitting the edge of the electromagnetic wave, disappearing within it with a wink.

"Whoa!" Crichton yelled out. "Wormholes--that's it!"

"Good job..." Tocot whistled out. "From you?"

Crichton grins and laughs, in a sort of manic glee. Tocot whistled and clicked. "I should...desist?"

"No frellin' way."

No. Frellin'. Way.

And then the shit hit the fan.

He killed her