by Shelly Quinn
Rating: NR
Archive: Email Ms. Quinn for permission
Summary: John and Zhaan are herb-hunting on the legendary planet Marsajal.
*****
"It's beautiful," Zhaan commented, a beautific smile on her lips as she stared up at the night sky. A red sky.
Crichton looked up as well then shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he conceeded, and that was saying something, given his current situation. The things he had seen since going through the wormhole and leaving Earth behind were unlike anything he ever could have imagined. The Science Fiction and Fantasy masters back on Earth had no clue as to what was really out in outerspace. There was no way anyone could have ever imaged this. "What did you say this planet was called again, Zhaan?" John queried.
"Marsajal," Zhaan replied. "I've heard of it since childhood and often wondered if it could truly be as beautiful as I'd been told. It is." She was awed by the wonder of the desert night.
"Red sky at night," John whispered, remembering the phrase from Earth, but it took on a whole new meaning here. The night sky was, literally, red. There were no stars yet there were incandescent shimmers of light that seem to flit and flitter in the air, reminding Crichton of faeries. Like Tinkerbell from Peter Pan. They winked and blinked in the endless expanse of scarlet sky.
Zhaan glanced over at Crichton and was pleased to see that he was as entranced as she was by Marsajal and it's red sky. She had made the right choice in asking him to accompany her, planetside, on her quest for supplies and medicines. The Marsajal people was gentle beings. Aeryn Sun and D'Argo would have frightened them and as for Chiana and Rygel, those two would have spent their time conning the Masajalans out of their goods and wares, taking advantage of the native beings trusting natures. But Chricton was different. He was a gentle being himself in many ways. And Zhaan new, from her Unity with him, that John had a pure soul. He was different in that he was human, but he was unique in that he was truly good and decent. "I need to find the Ghava root, John," Zhaan stated, forcing herself to turn her attention to their task at hand. They had already gathered food and supplies and had stored them in the transport for the return trip to Moya. But Zhaan had wanted to stop on Marsajal for another reason, the Ghava root. It was of great use in a medicinal sense, as well as in a spiritual one. At least for a Delvian. Zhaan knew that this would likely be her only chance to come by the root. Only Crichton had understood her desire to gather it before their departure. The Scientist in him accepted it's usefulness in a medicinal sense. The *human* in John had accepted Zhaan's spiritual need for the root. Or, perhaps, the part of him that had touched Zhaan in Unity had understood her needs. Either way was accecptable to Zhaan.
Crichton smiled at Zhaan, feeling a little uncomfortable beneath her penetrating gaze, even though he was getting used to it. "So, what does the Ghava root look like anyway? I'm a fair hand at gardening." Crichton raised a hand to ward off Zhaan's questioning stare. "Don't ask," he advised. "The explanation will get way too complicated and we'll both be bored to death by it."
"As you wish, John," Zhaan conceded, then she proceeded to explain to him about the Ghava root and it's origin. "It grows only in the desert," she explained. "In cool sands."
"Sounds like finding a needle in a haystack," Crichton shot back, for even at night, in the red darkness, he could feel the heat that permeated off the sand beneath his feet. And that was through the thick leather soles of his boots.
Zhaan believed she understood the idea behind Crichton's *Earth* analogy. "It is difficult to find, unless you know where to look," sheallowed.
Crichton chuckled, he was beginning to understand how Zhaan's mind worked. "And, of course, you know where to look," he said.
"In theory," Zhaan allowed. She stopped walking and turned her gaze east. Her eyes searched the horizon, seeking a landmark. A smile curved her lips as she found it. "There," Zhaan whispered, pointing.
"There...where?" John questioned, following the line of Zhaan's finger but not seeing anything but endless waves of sand. "What am I looking at?" Crichton demanded.
Zhaan's response was to take Crichton by the hand and lead him towards her treasure.
*****
"WHOOOOOOOOOO DOGGIE! This stuff stinks worse than a pig in a poke!" Crichton complained, as he pinched his nostrils together with two fingers and waved his other hand in the air in an attempted to disperse the odor that hung in the air. The Ghava root was an innocent enough looking plant, but it reeked to high heaven. Worse than a backed up sewer. In fact, the smell was like nothing that John had ever encountered before, and he hoped he never would again.
Zhaan shook her head at Crichton but she could see that he was having difficulties as his eyes were watering. She was immune to the odor, but Humans appeared to be excessively sensitive to it. "Rub this under your nose," Zhaan instructed, holding out a tube of colorless gel to Crichton. "It will sting a bit but it will help."
Crichton didn't care how much it hurt, he was about to loose his lunch. He grabbed the tube and slathered a liberal amount of gel under his nose. A moment later he howled in pain, but a heartbeat after that he sighed in relief. "Sting my ass!" he hissed at Zhaan, but then he smiled at her in appreciation. "I don't want to know what's in this stuff, but the stink is definitely gone."
"Good," Zhaan replied, as she returned her attention to her work. She wanted to dig up as much of the Ghava root as possible before they had to head backm and they would have to make the return trek soon. It was near dawn and by the time full sun appeared it would be too hot for them to travel. "Almost finished," Zhaan stated. She turned to Crichton and handed him six more roots. "Would you put these in your carryall?" Zhaan requested, hers was already overflowing.
Sure thing," Crichton replied, tucking the white root into the pouch that hung off his belt. "Is it getting warm already, or is it just me?" he inquired, eyes lifting towards the sky. It was the same shade of dark red that it had been two hours ago, yet it seemed brighter to his eyes.
A sigh escaped Zhaan for she would regret having to leave here. "It is warm," she conceded. "We must go soon. Just a few more -- OH!"
Crichton flinched at the sound of pain that Zhaan emitted. He knelt beside her and asked, "You okay?" John didn't see any evident injury to her smooth, blue flesh.
"No, not okay," Zhaan replied, her voice huskier than was normal. She was using her energy to deal with the waves of pain that shot through her body. Darkness pulled at Zhaan but she struggled to remain conscious. In thatn moment she knew that she would die here. But at least she would not die alone. Crichton would guide her on her way.
"Whoa...wait a minute, Zhaan!" Crichton hissed. "What do you mean
you're not okay? What's wrong."
Zhaan had to swallow the lump of pain that had formed in her throat before she could reply. "Keevil." That said, the Delvian slumped over.
Crichton caught Zhaan, pulling her against his chest and cradling her limp weight. "Zhaan!" he shouted, shaking her. Crichton felt a chill wash over him. Zhaan's eyes were wide open but she was completely still. Deathly still. "NO!" Crichton screeched. "You're not dying on me, dammit!" Shifting position, John managed to rest the Delvian on his lap while his hands clasped Zhaan's beautiful face. "Talk to me," Crichton begged. "What's wrong, Zhaan? What happened? And what the hell is a Keevil?"
"Bug," Zhaan breathed, and her eyes flickered to the left. To the place where she had been digging for the root.
"Holy Tarantula testosterone!" Crichton yelped, grabbing Zhaan about the waist and backpeddling away from the site. Sitting on a mound of sand was the biggest, ugliest, spider-like creature that Crichton had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. "Jurassic park version," he muttered, once he was able to speak again. And in that moment John realized what happened. "It bit you," he stated, locking eyes with Zhaan. She was still limp but she managed to blink. Crichton took that as a *yes*. "Can you move at all?" he queried, but he already knew the answer by the way Zhaan lay against him. She was paralyzed.
Zhaan could see that Crichton had guessed the truth. She could see it in his eyes. "Only a matter of...time," she whispered.
Fear and anger washed over Crichton. "You're not going to die, Zhaan!" he snarled. "Not now! Not like this!"
"There is nothing to be done, John," Zhaan told him. She was grateful that the venomous poison still allowed her speech. The cost was great for the pain was overwhelming, but she accepted the price. Zhaan found comfort in her words.
"Not acceptable," Crichton shot back. "There has to be an antidote or something. Anything! Please...Zhaan!" Crichton was begging the Delvian to give him hope, yet she was the one who was dying.
After a moment of silent contemplation, Zhaan breathed, "We will meet again, John Crichton. And I will live on...in your thoughts and memories."
In that moment, Crichton felt Zhaan slipping away from him. He couldn't let her go, so he did the only thing he could think of to hang on to Zhaan's soul. He reached out and touched her soul.
"Crichton..." Zhaan whispered, as she felt him join with her. But it was impossible for this to happen. John did not know how to bring about Unity between them, and yet he was one with her, body and soul. Zhaan felt him shudder as her pain became his pain. Unity, yet something muchmore.
"Zhaan...." Crichton breathed, and then he felt like screaming as he mind and body became awash with pain. It burned inside him, spreading outward through each and every nerve ending until he thought it would consume him. Then he heard Zhaan's gentle voice in his head.
"No pain," she whispered. "Let it go, John," Zhaan instructed.
Crichton fought to suck air into his lungs. He wanted to do as Zhaan asked, but he didn't know how. Then it came to him to will it away. To imagine that it was like a river of hot lava, and that the river was flowing into a sea of cool, blue, water. And as the lava touched the water it faded into steam and drifted away. Suddenly he felt himself floating.
Zhaan almost sobbed with relief. "Thank you, John," she whispered, for her pain was now gone.
"Are....are we....dead?" Crichton asked, fearfully. He wasn't ready to die. Not yet.
"No, not dead," Zhaan replied. She could say no more for she was not certain where they were, or how it was they came to be here. The only thing for certain was that Crichton had brought them to this place of being. He had created a level of Unity, heretofore unknown to Zhaan. It was healing, yet not as she had ever experienced.
Crichton felt a relief flood through him, yet he still felt fear. "What happens now?" asked.
Zhaan sighed. "We wait, John," she whispered, then she cradled him in the warmth of her soul.
*****
"Are you sure he's allright?" Aeryn questioned, as she dogged Zhaan's steps. They were making their way towards command at Pilot's request, but Aeryn Sun's thoughts were on John Crichton. It had been several dayssince she and D'Argo had rescued Zhaan and Crichton from the desert. The Delvian and the Human had both appeared dead, but a Marsajal healer had assured Aeryn that they were alive. A Marsajal Mystic had helped Zhaan andCrichton to unmeld from Unity then D'Argo and Aeryn had brought their companions back to Moya. Zhaan had recovered swiftly from her ordeal, showing nophysical reaction to the poison that had nearly killed her. Crichton, however, seemed different. It was as if he had retreated inside himself. He had suffered a physical reaction to the Unity. A fever and pain,symptons that Zhaan had treated him for. Now he was better, yet still notwell. At least, that was Aeryn's opinion. Zhaan kept insisting that Crichton was healing well.
"John needs time," Zhaan stated, pausing in step so that he could lock eyes with the Peace Keeper. "Sharing Unity with me the first time, changed Crichton. This last joining changed him more, in a different way. He needs to adjust."
Aeryn snorted then glared at Zhaan. "You're the one who should have changed," she countered, her tone somewhat accusatory.
Zhaan nodded in concession. "I have changed, Aeryn Sun," she whispered. A part of her mind reached out and touched the mind of thehuman. She felt Crichton accept her and knew that he would be all right. He would simply never be the same. ....Thank you... Zhaan whispered in her
mind.
...Don't mention it... Crichton replied in kind. ....Send Aeryn my way, I'll talk to her....
"John would like to speak to you," Zhaan told Aeryn, and before the Peace Keeper could comment, the Delvian glided away.
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