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A new story--revised 1/4/06

Winnona Has Been Very Very Good To Me

By Ixchup

Rating: G

Pairing: John/Chiana sorta

Spoilers: Small ones for A Clockwork Nebari. The story takes place immediately before that episode.

Author’s Notes: Thank you to my wonderful and patient beta, cathy1967. Here is a speaker and writer of English as her second or third language who writes and speaks better than I do.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters in Farscape and will put them back safely when I am done.

Part 1

He sat against the rough stones turning his pulse pistol over and over in his hands. He arched his back to relieve the ache from the cold and sharpness and then returned to fidgeting. He never looked up but she could see the compressed lips and frown from over where she sat at the opposite end of the small cell.

“Would you stop that already?” she hissed.

“What?” he replied and finally looked up at her. She saw the beginnings of a black eye and the puffed bruising where the guard had elbowed him. He scowled at her. “Chiana, as your PIMP, I can do whatever I want to.”

Chiana lowered her head and toyed with the fraying hem of her coat. It had been a long afternoon; what with the running and evading, the fighting, and eventually the surrendering. She knew she had to make it up somehow to Crichton who stood up for her in spite of his disappointment in her behavior. She thought back to how it had started.

She and Crichton had volunteered to go after the irridescent fluid that Moya needed. She figured she could have a little fun away from the stultifying attitude of D’Argo and Aeryn. She knew that if she got Crichton away for an afternoon she could jolly him up until he was willing to relax enough to enjoy some play time with his favorite traveling companion. He had been acting quite strangely lately, talking to himself and looking like he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his eyes and his lack of appetite worried her too. So, she was going to show him a good time; get his mind off his troubles for a while. Yeah, a few drinks and some possible dancing was the way it was going to be.

On their way to the bar after purchasing the fuel, Chiana spotted a Sebecean-looking man who’s face she thought she recognized from broadcasts regarding the upcoming slave auction that was occurring in a weeken or so in this sector. She knew D’Argo would be interested in any news of Jothee. Here was a perfect opportunity to please the Luxan and satisfy her own curiosity. John stood with his shoulder leaning against one of the posts that held up an awning covering the silk-seller’s stall. He looked fierce in his black leather and full-length duster. Just like a protector. She smiled at the image he was broadcasting because it worked so well into her plan. Without telling John of her intentions, she slinked over to the man. She slid her body into his personal space, moving her head up his chest until her lips were close to his. She tilted her hips into his groin area and smiled at him seductively. “Hey, mister,” she whispered. “ Can a girl buy you a drink?”

Before she knew it, the guy was blowing on a whistle and yelling for the police at the top of his lungs. She didn’t give the man a chance to grab her, but spun around and leaped over the table covered in fire silk that stood between her and Crichton. Yards of the stuff flew all around, startling the whistle blower, but giving Chiana a chance to run, but she paused watching as Crichton turned and confronted the irrate mark. His blue eyes were almost the color of the night sky as he stared over the barrel of his pulse pistol. She shook herself out of her momentary stupor and yanked Crichton around and pulled him after her. He called out to the gathering horde, "All she wanted to do was make friends!". She could see his feral grin from the edge of her eyes as she continued to drag him along. From there, it was seemingly metras of running, hiding, and trying to avoid bystanders who stood transfixed while listening to announcements regarding the prostitute and her pimp that kept blaring over hidden speakers throughout the marketplace. Who knew this was an even more uptight world than Moya?

Chiana was exasperated by Crichton's insistence that he stay behind and mis-direct the posse that was on their tales. He even went so far as to shoot that frelling pistol, which of course misfired, again. She shouted to him repeatedly to move his eema. There he was, sweaty and gray-faced yelling that he was going to have a heart attack if she didn’t slow down and find someplace where he could stop and catch his breath. She paused at the entrance to a narrow side street. Her attention was on John who was swaying as he stood with both his hands on his knees leaning over and panting. She heard the whoosh of a stun baton and ducked instinctively. Yelling a warning to John, she then tried to dive into the side street. John wasn’t so lucky since two policemen had piled on him while she was kicking and crying. He received an elbow in the eye for his efforts at evading their grasp and a jab from the stun gun that ended his struggles. Chiana halted her escape at the realization that John was going to take the fall for her. She went meekly to her fate as the police dragged the stunned astronaut ahead of her.

John’s quiet but definitely sarcastic voice brought her back to her present predicament. "Are you going to sit there all day, zoning or are you going to fill me in on what you were doing back there. Chiana, this is no game. What if they find out about the bounties?"

“Frell!*, Crichton, I was just trying to help D’Argo find out where Jothee was. That guy just wanted some, and I was willing to give it to him. What is your problem?”

“Problem? Chiana! My problem? I’ll tell you what my problem is. Here we sit in a God-forsaken cesspool, probably forever. There you sit, miss “I’ll give it up to anyone” and I can’t get you to realize how absolutely frelled-up your life and attitude are. And you have dragged me once again into it. I for one do not want to add pimp to my resume, bad as it is out here in the shit-hole of the universe.” He shifted his back again and grabbed a chunk of the mortar and threw it at her. Luckily it missed.

“It is your fault, you know. I was doing just fine. I had that guy right where I wanted him. He was going to tell me what we needed to know. Then you stepped in with your hero dren and completely frelled things up. And, to top it all off, you can’t even shoot straight with that fekkik pulse pistol you keep playing with.” Chiana felt incensed at the whole situation. And what would D’Argo think? She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the stones behind her back and bottom or the thought of facing his wrath about what she had tried to do. “Frell!” she shouted and threw her head back against the wall.

John was pissed. Pissed at Chiana for using herself the way she did. Pissed at himself for not being quick enough to stop her from her stupid and reckless plan. That girl was trouble. And yet, she had such a pure heart. Hell, he wanted to find out where Jothee was as much as she did. Why did she feel that her worth was so low? There had to be another way to worm information out of that guy other than to sell herself.

He shifted his weight off his butt where the cold of the dirt floor seeped through the leather. “You know, my pulse pistol is like Winnona Ryder. Small, quick, sure of her talents, but foolhardy and young.”

“What?” Chiana shook her head at John’s new nonsense. “You know you are as tinked as I am.”

John gave her a sly grin, indicating that he really was over his annoyance at her. They were a pair, weren’t they? He pulled himself up grimacing at his stiffness from sitting so long on the cold floor. He tottered over to her and pushed himself down the wall until he was again sitting. He motioned to her and she crawled between his legs with her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her briefly. “Chiana, my little tralk, when are you going to learn that you don’t have to use your wiles on folks. There are other ways of getting information. We can work together. We’re a team, you know. Jerry Springer’s Krewe” He nuzzled her white hair where it tickled his chin. “And Winnona would have spoken a lot better than your body can.”

Chiana rubbed her head against the leather of his coat and sighed. “What is a winnona?”

“My pulse pistol. I figure every lady has to have a name. So, meet Winnona.”

“Hezmana, Crichton. That gun can’t even shoot straight. You can do better than that.” She rubbed his nether regions to emphasize her argument until he jerked her hand away. They laughed together.

The cell was rapidly getting too dark to see further than the tip of his outstretched arm. Maybe Chiana could see further with her alien vision, but he figured that at least four or five hours had passed since they were picked up for soliciting. Where were their jailors anyway? He really wanted to get this show on the road.

John once again pulled himself up. Why had they left him his gun when they strip-searched Chiana and removed all of her various “tools”? He guessed it was a joke since his poor lady had fizzled out on him. Gotta check that over when they get back to Moya. If they get back to Moya. He dragged the shaft of the pistol against the bars of the cell and grinned at the grating rattle it produced. “Hey, anybody out there? Anybody home?” Hhe yelled to the now pitch blackness.

He was rewarded with a white wavering light and a raspy voice that replied, “Shut yer yap. We’re getting to ya. The judge wants to see you next on the docket.” The jailor -- for that was obviously what he was, if simply by the long chain and electronic keys dangling from his belt as well as the universal swagger with which he carried himself -- a tall, Sebacean by-blow, mysteriously appeared out of the darkness.) “Back away from the bars.”

John did as he was told and backed away from the door, but placed his hands on his hips and cocked his shoulders striking a threatening “in your face” pose in an imitation of the pimps he had seen in movies. He tried to look tough. Chiana giggled as she stood up and peered around him and winked at the guard.

“Oh man,” he thought. “She’s doing it again.”

The jailor pointed and circled with what looked like a policeman’s baton but what John suspected was some sort of electric stun gun, indicating they should turn their backs. John stubbornly stood there facing down the man and staring into his startlingly yellow eyes with their cat-like brown slit pupils. He received a swift jolt of energy for his efforts that brought him to his knees. He gasped in shock and pain, and in that moment the guard grabbed his hands in his two large mitts and rapidly handcuffed them behind John’s back. Damn, he had got to stop trying to face down guys with weapons. John forced himself back up to his feet, but gave up after several tries. His knees and thighs were still too numb.

“Little lady, do you want some of what he got?” The guard pointed the stun gun at Chiana.

“Nope, but I’ll give you some of what I’ve got if you let us go free,” she whispered engagingly. “Sheesh,” she thought. “Why does John always have to frell up a simple thing with his protectiveness dren? I gotta give him time to recover. This farbot guard looks easy.” She was muttering under her breath and missed the jailor’s scowl. Suddenly, he swung her around and strongly jerked her hands behind her back.

“Don’t try any of your whore’s tricks on me. I’ve got a wife and twelve chicks at home and I would be in hezmana’s cold and icy deepest level if I even blink at ya.” He shook the now firmly locked manacles on her wrists to emphasize his words.

John, having recovered somewhat, starred at Chiana’s bowed head and bumped her with his shoulder as he wearily pushed himself up to his feet. “Good try, Pip.”

Part 2

John really had built up a huge gut full of resentment towards Chiana, the guard with the frelling hot stick, and life in general by the time he and Chiana’s turn came to face the judge. The room was rough-hone like the rest of the buildings on this planet. The walls that he could see from his vantage point under the bright blast of a down light seemed white washed and bare where they weren’t bathed in shadows. There were no observers, lawyers, or even a scribe present just Pip, himself, the judge, and the frelling guards. He frowned and pulled himself up as best he could and lifted his head far back to stare at the judge where he sat high above the prisoner docket (truly a cage where he and Chiana were chained to the floor like some sort of animals on display). Chiana just stood there swaying back and forth on legs that seemed more like tightly wound springs than supports for her slim figure. Both of their hands were still firmly manacled behind their backs and he felt more helpless than he had for a long time. John looked back down at his feet and sighed. “Let’s get it on, already,” he whispered to himself.

John jerked from the sudden sound of the bone-jarring gong made by the slamming of a thick pole on a steel-like plate by a new alien who was obviously the balliff. He shook his head to get rid of the residual ringing and turned his head to the front because the judge was now clearing his throat to speak.

“You are brought before the magistrate this 20th day of Wenkle in year 10 of our glorious Tenal’s reign, long may he live for the federal crime of prostitution. We have come to a decision. This is an open and shut case. The accused have acknowledged their guilt in the recordings made of their discussions in their cell. There is no doubt. They are guilty. The punishment for soliciting and ownership of prostitutes is 50 years at hard labor. Take the prisoners away.” The judge pulled down the cuff of his flowing sleeve where it had ridden up his arm while he had swept it upwards to emphasis the simplicity of the case and its inevitable outcome. “Next.”

“What the frell! What about habeus-frelling-corpus? You can’t just act as judge, prosecutor, and jury.” John shouted (angry at himself and his continued naÔive attitude towards life in the UTs as much as he was at the affront of the “trial”) and lunged as far as his chains would allow towards the bars that stood between himself and the judge. The guards immediately jabbed him with their stun sticks, the double-zap dropping him to his knees, leaving him shuddering with the residual energy. Chiana dropped down to her knees in sympathy and leant her strength to her companion by leaning into his shoulder. She glared at the guards and spoke as steadily as she could, given her immense anger at the whole farbot situation, “Woah, don’t we get to tell our side of the story? This is just not fair! Where is your fabled charity towards strangers?”

The judge turned towards the Nebari girl where she kneeled defiantly next to the Sebecean male where he sat now shaking from what should have been a simple stun blast. “Young woman, whore that you be, we have moral standards to uphold. If you know our planet so well, you should be aware that we are church-going family-oriented folks. We cannot let your behavior nor that of your despicable owner there go unpunished. It would set a bad example to others who would then come flocking here to sully the purity of our souls with their foul stench of immorality. Enough already, shut your mouth and take your punishment or we will gag you and your owner.” With that, the judge stepped down from his towering desk and disappeared from her view.

“Frell this,” she muttered. “We are totally in the dren now.” She nudged John with her shoulder, but not fast enough so to allow him to avoid a jerking upwards of his arms by the guards who had stunned him in the first place. He tried to throw himself away from them, but they had a tight grip on both his arms and he lacked the strength or motion, it seemed from her vantage point behind him, to do much but bear up with the rough treatment. He staggered and tried to get his feet under him, but then sagged and allowed them to drag him.

Part 3

Chiana sat on her butt and leaned against the rough stones of another cell. Her hands remained chained behind her and she squeezed her fingers in to a fist repeatedly to force some feeling into her hands. She glanced over to where John lay on his side. She could hear him cursing. She thought she had heard some colorful descriptions of future torment in her times on the run, but his took her breath away. “Hey, old man. I didn’t know you had that language in you. That is just drad!!”

John stretched his neck into an awkward angle so as to see her where she sat with her legs crossed leaning back against the wall. It was all he could move for the moment, although he was getting the terrible pins and needle prickling running up his legs and arms that told him that feeling was returning. It was shear agony. He still couldn’t feel his hands where he knew they were manacled behind his back. He gritted his teeth and growled at her, “Pip, next time you try to help D’Argo, just don’t.”


D’Argo and Aeryn had completed their shopping to replenish Moya’s food stores. They were in foul moods because not only hadn't they found any fresh foodstuffs, but to compound the dren-level of this planet, they had come up empty in regards to any news about Jothee. All they kept seeing were those frelling slave auction advertisements, like rubbing salt into open wounds. D’Argo sighed and glanced at Aeryn where she stood with her hand automatically and unconsciously poised just above her pulse pistol as she glanced around the central plaza. They hadn’t heard a word from Rygel, John, or Chiana in arns. Rygel, they knew, was off purchasing what he called necessities but what John had called bath and beauty products. He should be returning shortly. But the fact that John and Chiana hadn’t reported in worried D’Argo and it looked like Aeryn shared his concern.

“You know, pairing up Chiana and John was a very poor combination,” he said and snorted at his understatement. “They are sure to be up to their necks in trouble or be causing trouble by making up some farbot plan with Crichton naturally trying to fix something Chiana has caused. It was a lousy idea to split up this way.”

Aeryn glanced over at him and nodded her head in agreement. “And whose farbot idea was it to send them off to purchase irredescent fluid in the first place?” The wind was blowing up dust as shadows ran across the open area in front of the stalls all around. “It is getting late. I’m breaking comms silence and calling them. You get back to the pods and wait for Rygel.”

The comms badge responded only with static to her repeated taps. “Frell! They are not answering,” she muttered. She switched channels and commed D’Argo. “D’Argo, I get no response. See if you can reach them.” She knew that she was being stubborn in asking D’Argo to double-check because in her heart she knew that John and Chiana were in trouble. When were they not when sent off together? They were like two children.

“Nope, no signal here either,” D’Argo replied quickly back. Aeryn broke into a lopping run, knowing that the best place to find her missing crewmates now that it was dark was at the local jail. She remembered passing what looked like a judicial building on her way from spaceport. She would take a chance that this was where they were being held. She commed D’Argo once again set up a rendezvous. She knew he would bring what was needed to get those two out. And then would she have words with John Crichton. She smiled grimly at the thought of his future efforts to make amends. All in good time.

D’Argo met her at the front of the imposing stone structure that housed the courthouse of this dren-eating town. He carried his Qualta blade on his back and hidden under his jacket were five tardic grenades and an extra pulse pistol. He grinned and removed the weapons one at a time. Aeryn nodded her head at D’Argo’s choice of those stealth bombs. They would be smoky, silent, and do no further harm than temporarily stunning any guards who got in the way of their rescue attempt. “Let’s do this thing,” she calmly stated as she hooked the grenades to her belt and holstered the second pistol.

The desk Sergeant looked up from his electronic pad where he had been playing tadik against himself. “May I help you?” he asked the Luxan and what was obviously a Peacekeeper where they stood frighteningly close to his desk. He surreptitiously reached for the emergency switch under his desk while smiling at the pair.

“We are bounty hunters and have come to claim the pair of desperate criminals you have housed in your jail,” the Peacekeeper stated as she swept her duster away from her holstered and safety-clipped pulse pistol. The Night-Sergeant had no delusions as to her ability to quickly change its status. “They are the notorious Burch and Sunshine,” the female said. The Luxan remained silent and scowling at her side. Luxans certainly had a reputation for going from scowling to enraged in microts. The Officer shuddered at the news that they housed such criminals (as well as by the implied threats of the two aliens standing in front of him).

“Please wait while I page the bailiff. I assure you that there will be no problem turning over to you any such prisoners. We want no problems with Peacekeepers here.” The Sergeant pressed the emergency switch with one hand while he reached for what was obviously a communications panel with his free hand.

D’Argo slammed his fist into the Sergeant’s face just microts too late as the room was suddenly blasted with a shrill siren. “Frell! Aeryn, we had to do it your way! My way would have avoided this dren. Some plan there. I thought you were always in favor of a frontal assault. See, I think Crichton has rubbed off on you!” He growled as he turned his Qualta blade into a rifle and swung to hit one of the many guards who were swarming into the reception area.

“You might be right,” Aeryn shouted as she ran her thumb over the fuse on a grenade and then lobbed the live bomb at the mass of guards. "Duck, D’Argo.”

The grenade exploded with a roar of smoke and noise, stunning the guards who were denches away from where it had landed. D’Argo shook his tenkas at the smell and residual sound from the blast from his position behind the Sergeant’s desk. He quickly vaulted over the desk and joined Aeryn in shouldering her way through the smoke and downed guards out through the doorway that obviously lead to the jail cells.

Aeryn had to use one more grenade to silence guards that they encountered as they made their way rapidly deeper into the complex. She could hear D’Argo cursing mightily as he followed her lead down one hallway to another as they searched for John and Chiana.


Chiana looked up from where she sat with her knees holding up John’s back. He was getting more movement back, but still he grumbled on about the peens and nettles as he twitched his booted feet. “Shhhh, Crichton. Someone is coming,” she whispered.

John could see nothing but black and not having the ability to move more than his elbows and toes, he helplessly frowned at her news but wisely remained quiet as she called out, “Hey, whoever you are, do we get dinner in this joint any time soon?”

“Chiana, I’ll get you a piece of my mind when I get you back to Moya!” That low, gravelly voice could be no one else but D’Argo. Chiana grinned and noted that John was able to pull himself up off her knees as she quickly used the wall to push up and stand. She tottered on stiff legs and then moved swiftly to the bars.

“Where are you?” she called. “Is, is Aeryn with you?”

“I’m right here, Chiana. Stand away from the door while D’Argo opens it.” She saw a flash and a loud clang as D’Argo blew the door’s locking mechanism. John had fallen on his back and was struggling to right himself to greet their rescuers. She leaned down and quickly helped him roll over. “What took you guys so long?” he panted as he continued to force his numb body to respond.

Aeryn looked down at John where he lay, his face slightly puffy and his limbs stiff. “What happened to you?” she asked.

“Long story. Look, can we take this somewhere else? These guys want to put Chiana and me away for long enough that Stargate will be starring Daniel Jackson’s grandson. Help me up, here.” John sighed as Aeryn used her pulse pistol to blow apart the manacles binding his extremely sore wrists. He achingly drew his arms to his front and used his barely functioning fingers to rub some life into his hands. Chiana was doing the same and grimacing at the affect of those arns of captivity. “I need some extra help, here guys. Those yoyos had stun guns, of all things.” John grunted as Aeryn lifted him by his arm on to still barely felt feet and began to drag him.

They made their way slowly down corridors, ducking into dark corners at the sound of guards who were increasingly active as the stunning power of the grenades wore off. John could see absolutely nothing, but he was happier now that life had painfully returned to his legs and feet. He still leaned on Aeryn, just because, but he could more faster the closer they got to the doorway to freedom. Aeryn hoisted her last grenade through the door to the reception area and nodded to herself as it went off exactly where she had aimed. “Now,” she shouted as she helped John lope awkwardly through the room and down the outer stairs.

Somehow they made it to the pods without further incident, but Chiana could see by D’Argo’s frown that she was in for a verbal drubbing soon. “Look, we’ll take the pod up to Moya and you stay down here and wait, wait for Rygel. We’re the ones on the lam,” Chiana said as she pushed John up the steep steps. John seconded her plan, knowing that the longer Aeryn had to think about the adventure, the better his chances were of surviving her anger. D’Argo sighed and had no chance to say another word since the door to the pod was shut and obviously locked in place and its steps had already been lifted up for take off.

Aeryn and D’Argo turned towards the second pod and had no chance to even react as they felt the electric impulses of the Nebari stun gun shatter their consciousness. Varla smiled complacently and tossed the sleeping Hynerian on top of the Luxan and Sebecean. Chiana was in for a surprise soon.


In my best Dickensian accent "Please, ma'am, may I have some more."

Your day has certainly been productive. Are you planning on running a serial on your LJ? This is very good. I can't wait to read the rest.
tee hee--I see you are being dragged back into Farscape fiction and music. It is a plot, I tell ya...

Nope, no more to this one. It fits neatly into the ep A Clockwork Nebari where John and Chiana meet up with a mind-cleansed Aeryn and Rygel and the story takes off.

thank you for the amazing complement. It means a lot.
Christi looks absentmindedly at her manicure and shrugs, "Nah, I just like short stories."

"I see." Rita smiles knowingly. "Nothing to do with the fact it's a Farscape fic?"

"Jeesh, can't you just say thank you and write some more?" Christi pouts.

"Later. Now it's time for you to march yourself into the bathroom and touch up your roots." Rita shoos Christi in the direction of the bathroom. "No more fan fic until you look less like you have a big, dark crack in your skull."

As Christi walks down the hall, she mutters in her loudest under-her-breath tone, "Yeah, well I was just bein' nice. I don't want to read anymore tonight anyway. Stupid Farscape!"

"And don't forget to touch up behind your ears! Use a mirror." Rita calls after her, "And don't think I can't hear you. Keep it up and you'll be grounded from your LJ for a week!"

Settling back to her computer, Rita shakes her head, "Friends!"

Tis better to color roots than to have discussion about pulling oldest daughter out of honors history program because said daughter cannot stand the pressure but mother cannot stand the idea of daughter's exit. sigh. So, you make me laugh.

Go, therefore, and be colorful.
Ah, the Estrogen Wars...can't say I miss them much.

Is it really so much pressure she's under strain? Is the Honors History Program so important to her or you? Maybe you could strike a deal...finish this year and no more of it next year.

I can't believe I unwittingly managed to write a bit like a petulant child and you are actually having a bit of such in RL.

Maybe I'm psychic...or psycho...I can never decide :)

Hugs, Rita!
so intriguing to see john from chiana's point of view. reminds me how alien they are to each other despite their ability to connect.

bwahaha! "“Long story. Look, can we take this somewhere else? These guys want to put Chiana and me away for long enough that Stargate will be starring Daniel Jackson’s grandson" *g*


i got a comment email, but it was anonymous....might have been you though answering my comment? but LJ won't let me respond until you unscreen it. er, do i sound confuzzled? ;)

Re: er....

sorry about that. Just me commenting on your comment. lol Just saying thanks!

Re: er....

hee! and thank you. regarding what you said in the other comment: i agree that seeing john through alien eyes is always intriguing. and how the others see him shows wonderful glimpses of them as well. *g*
OH MY GAWD! Jirl, when you start writing you are....Wow...
*blushes* awww thanks.