FMA_Farscape fic Ch 1 -FS-

      Commander John Crichton strode purposefully down the living corridors of Moya, towards the main docking bay. His mission: to get there at all without Mrs. Crichton smashing his face in – again. As he came to the entrance of Pilot’s central chamber, he suddenly stopped, hearing the sweet familiar sound of his young son laughing. This could only mean that she was there as well, and that if he was spotted he’d never get off this ship in one piece. So as quietly as he could, he snuck past the doorway, though some part of his mind told him that it was too late, he had already been detected, and that he might as well give up now and turn back so as to at least be spared the wrath of Aeryn Sun.

      But too late even for that. As he passed the door he heard her come, her boots hitting the floor. There was the clack of a pulse rifle being un-holstered and cocked. He paused, giving in to what was sure to come.
      “This has to be done, John.”
      “You’re dead. Dead people stay dead, Harvey. Now get out.”
      “Now now, John. We both know you don’t believe that.” The leather-clad, pale-faced figure held the black gun against the back of Crichton’s head.
      John turned around slowly, raising his hands in defeat, and found the rifle’s barrel squarely between his eyes.
      “Baby, you wouldn’t really shoot me in front of little ‘D, would you?” he asked the stern female face before him, trying his best to look pathetic so she would maybe consider not killing him.
      Aeryn’s eyes softened slightly, but the gun didn’t move. Well, his plan was half-working.
      “Maybe I would.”
      Never mind.
      “If I let you go through with this idiotic plan, you’ll surely be killed anyway, so why not just get it over with?”
      “Because our son needs a father.”
      From the depths of the chamber, the two-year-old D’Argo laughed again, and a DRD squeaked in shock as one of its eye stalks was pulled clean out with one small hand.
      “Exactly my point.” Said Aeryn, putting her gun back at her side as her eyes darted momentarily to the small boy. “Last time you attempted this, you managed to reduce your ship to a mere pile of space debris while somehow remaining in one piece yourself. But you may not be so lucky this time, and I can’t bear to go through seeing you dead again.”
      “Damnit, Aeryn – I’m not always gonna get killed! And don’t worry, me and Jothee have it all planned out –“ and with that, he turned back and continued towards the docking bay. Aeryn followed him swiftly, after taking a moment to ask Rygel to watch the baby, a job he happily accepted.
      “So, now you’ve roped Jothee into this as well? Great job, Crichton!”
      ‘Damnit,’ thought John, ‘she’s calling me “Crichton” again. Haven’t heard that in a while. That can’t be a good sign.’
      “Well, like you said, I have no ship, but he does. And since he’s the only one who can pilot it, I asked him, he said yes, it’s done.”
      “What’s done?” asked Chiana, running up behind Aeryn and resting her head on John’s shoulder. “You guy’s going somewhere?” She looked over at Aeryn from her spot.
      John was about to say ‘Not anymore,’ but Aeryn started before he could.
      “We’re taking Lo’Laa into a wormhole, apparently.”
      “Wait – We? You’re not coming-“ he smiled and pointed at Aeryn.
      “A wormhole? Drad – Hey, you sure it’s safe, Crichton? I mean, all that knowledge the Ancients gave you got zapped out, right? I’m coming.” She circled around until she was in front of the couple, facing towards them.
      “No no no. You girls are not coming. It’s way too dangerous – I mean, what if the wormhole is unstable or – Shit.” And now there were two guns pointed at his head. “I really need to stop offending people with bigger guns than me.”

      A few minutes later, John stepped into Lo’Laa, where Jothee was working the controls with his father’s Qualta Blade. He turned around to greet his newly arrived friend.
      “John. We’re almost set.”
      “Hey, Jothee. Um, we’re kinda screwed here –“
      “Wait – What?”
      And then the girls walked into the ship, passed John, and sat down without saying a word.
      “I see.” Said Jothee, returning to his controls.
      So, after a slight discussion (which included two pulse pistols and a good bit of yelling), Jothee decided to take matters into his own hands, and took off anyway.