Left Behind, Epilogue
John and Chiana lay next to each other under a canopy of stars, watching as they swirled and danced above and all around the bubble of Rohvu's observation deck. They had been there for a couple of hours as he told her what he'd learned from Donatri Rashov about the friends – the family – they had left behind.
She had listened while he talked, but said nothing herself. The only way he knew she felt as strongly about the news as he did was the wetness of her tears, soaking the shoulder that served her as a pillow.
After long minutes spent just listening to Rohvu's healthy burbling and their own breathing, Chiana broke the stillness that surrounded them. "So what…what do we do now?"
"I don't know, Chi. We'll unhook the umbilical from Rohvu and Kala tomorrow. Beyond that…?" He shrugged, her soft hair tickling his neck and arm.
"I…" she began, but didn't continue.
"I…don't know if I…I can go back to Moya right now."
"Yeah…" John knew exactly what she meant. Knowing that there were other versions of themselves with Moya and Talyn, other versions that had gone on with their lives as though the two of them had never existed… Maybe someday they could return, but not right now. There was just too much pain.
"Crichton? Maybe we could…could look for my brother. We could look for Nerri."
He laughed, short and humorless. "You want us to hook up with the Nebari Resistance?"
"What the hell. We don't seem to have anything better to do right now, do we?"
She settled back against him again and they returned to watching the dance of the stars above.
About a solar day out from the Leviathan Burial Space, Furlow finally began to relax. There were no signs of pursuit, not that she had really expected any, so she decided to check out that data chip she had snurched from the comp in Crichton's quarters when he had been hot and heavy into the wormhole equations. The man hadn't even noticed when she'd left. At least, she didn't think he had.
She popped the chip into the reader, but instead of the mathematical equations and flowing lines of the Farscape Two design that she expected, a three-dimensional image of John Crichton in all his glory appeared.
"Hey, Furlow! I gotta wonder. Have you already noticed or is it just now occurring to you that you are so. Damn. Screwed?" His voice was cheerful and a big, dren-eating grin spread across his handsome face. "Yep, I'm bettin' it's just this very minute dawning on you that this little chip doesn't have jack to do with wormholes. Or the design for my module.
"You are screwed, bitch, and so not in a good way." His voice took on a hard edge and the grin faded. "You shoulda left the data chip where it was, Furlow, and taken my journal instead. If you'da taken the journal, you'da had it all. The equations, the blueprints, the theories and ideas… But now? You don't have jack."
Furlow felt her blood begin to boil in her veins while she stared in disbelief at the reader as Johnny's image faded away.