wait@kca.net

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Farscape" belong to the Jim Henson Company, Rockne S. O'Bannon, the Sci-Fi Channel, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia, and the actors who bring the characters to life. They have been borrowed with love, but not permission. The Everly Brothers belong to themselves, and the song is theirs - it fit perfectly, so I just borrowed it for a while. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: #1 - "The ideas/hypotheses put forth in this fic do not necessarily represent the author's opinions." In other words, this is not my contribution to the "Do Sebaceans dream?" argument. It's just an idea that popped into my head, and it was a lot more fun than paying attention in my night class.

#2 - There are two endings to this one. Think of it as one of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books - read one, and if you don't like the way it ends, go back and choose the other path. Hopefully you'll be happy with one of them. :)

#3 - Thanks to Laura and Paulie. Again.

©Copyright Sarah Wait, October 1999

Aeryn Sun sat at the table, slumped over with her chin resting on her arms. She stared at the metal cup, which in this position, was eye-level. It was almost empty. Again. She wondered if she had the energy to get up to refill it. She wondered if she cared.

She heard footsteps enter from the hall, but she didn't even raise her eyes to see who it was. She recognized the cadence of his walk.

He reached into the refrigeration unit and withdrew a container. He shook it and what little liquid remained sloshed against the sides. Glancing at Aeryn with a look of mock exasperation, he grew serious as he studied her defeated stance.

"Hey," he said.

"Go 'way." She was not in the mood for this. Not at all.

"And a Howdy-Doody to you, too, Miss Sunshine." Never one to be deterred, John Crichton walked over and sat down across from her. "What's wrong?"

Aeryn buried her face in her arms. Her voice was muffled, but her words were still clear. "Just go away!"

Crichton peered into her cup, then shrugged and took a drink. "No. What's up?"

Aeryn groaned. As if he didn't know. "You're not real."

"What?"

Aeryn bit back the urge to scream. "You're not real. I killed you. You're dead. So just go away and leave me alone."

"Is this what you meant when you said you see your family and friends after you die? Because if it is, it's frelling annoying, Crichton." He didn't say anything; he just kept looking at her. She sighed and gave in, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. "Fine. This afternoon, we were on planet. Walking through a perfectly calm marketplace when you wandered off. Again. But instead of automatically looking for you, like I know I should, I figured I would just find you later. And then I heard the screaming. And when I finally found you, you were lying on the ground covered in blood because some angry merchant didn't like something you said."

Aeryn's eyes glazed over, her voice dropping to a whisper as she retreated deeper into the memory. "I tried to stop the blood, but there was too much. I kept yelling for someone to help us. But Zhaan was still on Moya and nobody wanted to help someone who might be a Peacekeeper. So they just stood there and watched you die in my arms."

Her voice caught on what sounded suspiciously like a sob, and she covered her face with her hands. Her next words were angry, but the anger was directed at herself. "All right, so I didn't actually kill you. But it was my fault. It was like I wasn't really there, I couldn't move fast enough, I couldn't find you. So you died. And it's my fault."

John moved the cup out of the way and put his hands on her arms. "Aeryn." He gently tried to pull her hands from her face, but she resisted. "Aeryn, listen to me," he insisted. Finally she relented, but as soon as her hands were down, she lowered her gaze to the table. John slid a finger under her chin and tilted it up until he could look into her eyes. "It wasn't real, Aeryn. You must have been dreaming."

"I told you once before, Crichton, I sleep soundly."

She meant it. "You mean you've really never dreamed before? At least, you've never remembered it?"

"No, I haven't," she responded, sounding annoyed.

"Well, you just did." She just stared at him, her jaw jutting out stubbornly. He stared back, just as stubborn. "Look, Aeryn, I don't know how I can explain to you what a dream is, not really. Not without going into a bunch of neurological and psychological babble. But that's all it could have been, because I am here, and I am alive."

"Prove it."

John's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Prove it... What do you mean, 'prove it'?"

Aeryn sat up, pulling her arms away from him. "Prove to me that you're alive. That you're here. Then maybe I'll believe that it was a dream."

"How am I supposed to prove I'm alive??" he asked incredulously.

She refused to give even an inch. "I don't know," she said dryly, "you're the scientist, you figure it out."

John stared at her for a moment, then she saw a slight sparkle in his eyes. "Okay, fine. You want proof that I'm real, I'll give you proof." He grabbed her hand and tugged, and she had no choice but to follow.

end part one