Farscraps 2: A Collection of Unfinished Farscape Fan Fics by Karolyn Gray
Rated: PG-13 or less.
Notes: Farscraps a series of unfinished fanfics that I've decided to post to the web even though they are incompletes and likely never to be continued.

By Karolyn Gray
Post-WGFA (Season 2)
Summary: Crichton has trouble telling what's real and what's not after being interrogated by the Scarran, Grath.
Notes: Incomplete.

He was shaking uncontrollably as he crawled his way up the hard, cold stairs that led from the chamber of horrors behind him. Shaking from his rapidly falling adrenaline rush. Shaking from fear. Shaking from a lack of energy from his body. Shaking for...

'What?' He wondered, blinking sweat from his eyes as he paused to look around him. He could smell it-- the scent of something burning. The scent of discharged chakan oil and burnt flesh. A wave of nausea swept over him as his entire body shuddered violently and his vision swam. Closing his eyes he breathed in long and slow until the nausea passed.

Opening his eyes, he took in his dark surroundings with a confused expression. The stone stairs he was crawling up and the slightly damp walls were unfamiliar, but he shook his head and continued crawling, feeling compelled to get out of this dark place.

An irrational fear that someone-- *something*-- was going to get him if he didn't quickened his crawl into a sudden scrambled panic. When he reached a door he pushed as a surge of adrenaline rushing through him once more as he heard...something...coming from the darkened chamber below. The monsters were coming from him.

'There's no such thing as monsters.' He chided himself, but nonetheless threw himself against the door, smashing its flimsy frame open and stumbled out of the stairwell into a trash-strewn alley and falling to his knees. Gagging at the stench he hurriedly looked both ways looking for some sign of safety.

'Have to find...' He paused for a moment, confused. Who? '...Have to find my friends.' Nodding to himself he scrambled towards what appeared to be a relatively busy thoroughfare with strangely dressed people.

As he stumbled into the street, the bright light causing him to flinch backwards. Someone shoved him into a wall from behind, snarling some vague obscenity. He groaned as his head smacked into the hard stone of the building, adding more pain to his headache. Sighing, he turned to see who had pushed him, only to find himself alone and ignored by the many passerbys.

'Where the hell am I?' He wondered, watching the strangely costumed people passing by. He didn't recall his friends saying anything about going to Mardis Gras. Shrugging he slowly allowed the flow of foot traffic to guide him along, vaguely aware that his entire body hurt.

'Definitely have to see Doc Betty...'

His thought trailed off, he stopped shaking his head in confusion. 'Who the hell was Bet--?'

"Crichton!" He winced at the loud and sharp voice that had called his name. Turning, he vaguely wondered who this rather attractive looking woman in black leather was that approached him. "Where the frell have you been?"

'Aeryn? Bettina? Shit! Who is this lady?' John swallowed hard, sensing he had somehow pissed of this woman. He nervously met the icy glare of her blue-gray eyes. "Um. I don't know." He replied softly, feeling drained.

The woman eyed him closely, looking concerned as she stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. John barely was able to restrain himself from pulling away, but he could tell by the furrow of her brow she had felt his flinch. "You look terrible, Crichton. Are you all right?"

Feeling another wave of nausea coming on he swallowed hard. "Yeah. Uh. I'm just a little..." He stopped and closed as eyes as the world started spinning. When things felt normal again he was vaguely aware of the woman's voice talking to someone, sounding concerned. He cracked his eyes open and was surprised to find himself propped up against a wall, the woman watching him intently.

"He's coming around, Zhaan. But I think you had better hurry." She was saying.

"Understood." Came the ethereal reply.

"What..." John started to rise, annoyed when the woman pushed him back down.

"Stay put, Crichton. Zhaan's on the way." She commanded.

"Zhaan?" John frowned at the name, recognizing it but not. An image of a blue skinned woman in a business suit flashed through his mind and he shook his head. "Does she have a green card?" He mumbled, unaware of a small giggle that escape him.

The woman's eyes widened slightly in confusion at him before seeming to brush off his question. "Crichton, what happened? We've looked over half this world for you?"

Crichton suddenly grabbed her shoulder and shook her once, hard. A cruel sneer was plastered on his face. “What? No tongue, Aeryn-baby?” He spat venomously. “I ain't telling you a thing, you frelling bastards, so give it up!”

“What the frell are you talking about, Crichton?” Aeryn demanded, easily breaking from his weakened grasp. He started giggling, stopping her from demanding a further explanation from him. “John?”

Crichton smiled crazily at her, but Aeryn got the distinct impression that Crichton was not really seeing her. An impression he soon confirmed.

“Hey, Doc Betty! Been lookin' for you and Gary.” Crichton said, leaning forward. “Where you been?”