The Cost

Author: Renee Barrigar
Spoilers: Most of seasons three and four.
Disclaimer: I only get to call the Guardians mine. The rest belong to the people paid to create Farscape.
Plot: John is provided with divine help to accept the price of his knowledge, and his duty. Comments are, as always, are welcome at gaminembassy@hotmail.com

“Oh dren. Oh dren. Oh dren.” John muttered. Then, gradually raising his voice to a shout, “Dren, dren, dren dren, dren dren. Holy FRELLING DREN!” His fist slammed into the punching- bag harder and harder until it fell over. He stooped, resting his hands on his knees, and huffing for several minutes. Little Blue and 1812 sat on a table several feet away, blinking at him. The breaths slowed gradually, his vision cleared, and the throbbing in his ears stopped.

“Something bothering you John?” Zhaan’s voice asked from the back of his mind. Ever since that virtual game, a memory of her had been lurking back there. It was almost like having her back; like she was there, to comfort him.

“It won’t come out, Blue.” He whispered, leaning on the bag. “They won’t take it back, and it won’t come out on its own.”

“The worm-hole knowledge?”

“Yeah, that. I don’t want it.”

“Why not, John? After all, it is your way home.”

“I ran into this girl on Earth once. She was trying to get somewhere, but got lost. She asked me for directions in a dinner, and we got to talking…” His voice faded out as he tried so hard to remember the lunch, her face, or anything at all.

“What does she have to do with worm-holes?”

“Well, she said something to me. Told me that she wrote stories about powerful beings, and all these stories had one common theme.”

“Which was?”

“The cost. All power, all knowledge comes with a price tag. Sometimes you get discounts,” He could almost see the confusion on Zhaan’s face, but he kept going. “And sometimes the worst price you could imagine is nothing next to what you end up paying.”

“You were figuring out the price of your knowledge. What was it?”

“To watch. I get to watch while the rest of existence- at least two universes- pay for my knowledge. I get to watch my friends pay. I get to watch innocent people pay. And I get to watch those I would rather kill benefit. I watched you die. I caused Moya harm. I hurt everyone on board. I wrecked the careers of at least three Peacekeepers, maybe more. I get to watch all that, and it is too much for me. It’s just too much. I don’t want it!” He screamed the last part, sinking to the floor and sobbing. He could hear her voice trying to hush him as he repeated quietly, over and over. “I don’t want it. It’s too much.”

Some hours later, D’Argo came looking for John. He was asleep on the mat. His face was distorted, puffy, wet, and warm. He was curled up into a little ball. D’Argo lifted him carefully, half-heartedly muttering about weak species, and laid him out in his quarters. He left, telling Pilot to let no one disturb John.

--

“You are right, John. It is an unthinkable price, watching others suffer for your actions.”

“Can’t do it.” He stubbornly muttered into his pillow. Couldn’t she go away and stop torturing him?

“But John…”He rolled onto his stomach and covered his head, trying to block her out. But her disembodied voice snuck through the crack to his ear. “But doesn’t the size of the price mean you must?” It hissed.

John sat up, looking around for Zhaan. He had suddenly remembered a debate he’d gotten into in college with some guy… Tim something. What was it he’d said? “God puts prices on our actions to be sure that only those He chooses do what He asks.”

It still didn’t make much sense, but it almost felt like it fit. She was right; it was meant to make him go on. Every time he saw someone else pay, it happened in a way that made him want to go on- to stop the PeaceKeepers and the Scarrens.

“But that didn’t happen with Zhann.” A nasty little voice in the back spoke up. “Zhaan died by your mistakes.”

“Too much. I won’t do it. Not anymore.”

“Won’t bring Zhaan back. Won’t get Galina back.” A new voice began chanting in there. “Won’t fix Aryen. Won’t find Jothee. Won’t save Earth.”

The other strange voice giggled. “Hush, both of you.” Zhaan snapped. John lay back, wondering if he’d been crazier since Harvy’d left or if he just missed the ugly dope.”

He sighed, lay back, and concentrated on ignoring the voices. He started humming to himself. Then he started singing quietly.

“I won’t be held responsible. She was touching her face. I won’t be held responsible. She fell in love in the first place. For the life of me, I cannot remember what made us think that we were wise and we’d never compromise. For the life of me, I cannot believe we’d ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen." *

“What was that John?” Zhaan asked suddenly.

“Nothing, Zhaan, just an Earth song that came to me. I dunno why.”

“Maybe it is exactly what you need to know.”

“Huh?”

“You are not responsible for my loss, or Gilina’s, or Stark’s, or Jothee’s. We all chose to stay with you. We all want you success as much as you. We could have avoided our fates, but we chose not to.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

“But your song answers that too. You didn’t know what would happen, and we were all too confident to back down. We were young and inexperienced, yet on we pushed. Now, we pay for it. We were babes given the responsibility of wise men, and we did what we could.”

“We should have backed off.”

“We couldn’t. Despite our inexperience, we had to move forward. How do you think the wise become wise?”

John didn’t answer. He only smiled and slept again.

---

Beloc looked at Kreegan and nodded. They floated to the bedside, and tapped Zhaan’s shoulder. She let go of the human called John. “May I see some of the others?” She asked while following them down the corridors of Moya.

“No.” Kreegan (the voice that had taunted John) responded gently. “We have allowed your spirit into the corporeal realm to help this one only.”

“Others suffer as greatly as he,” Beloc (the female, and the one who had hissed first) explained. “But much hangs on him. We, who exist in both realms, can see the many outcomes of his choice. By helping him to accept the responsibility and price of his knowledge, you have given both realms much happier chances.”

They had gained the cargo bay. Kreegan swung an arm before the doors, and a portal opened to the spiritual realm that Zhaan now called home. Here she was like her companions, a specter. Before going through, she looked closely at them. They seemed Delvian to her, but their hoods and cloaks covered so much she couldn’t be sure. Besides, they had told her that when they appear before a species, it was in the form of that specie.

“Come, Zhaan.” Beloc called from just in the portal. “Do not worry, we will continue to look after the human and the others.”

Zhaan sighed, glancing around one last time, and crossed through; leaving her friends in the hands of the Guardians. John woke up again much later, believing that the encounter was a dream.

The End

* “Freshmen” by The Verb.