Disclaimer: Ahem. Not mine. HOWEVER. SG-1 belongs to one company. Farscape belongs to another. John Crichton's balls belong to Aeryn Sun. No money is being made from this (not even Kelownan currency). Thank you, good night.
Rating: R. Violence. Sex. Foul language.
Setting/Spoilers: for Farscape, all of it including Bat Timing except for the last five minutes. For Stargate, all of it up to current continuity. Pairings: John/Aeryn, Sam/Jack, all others are up for grabs.

Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)
by Ana Lyssie Cotton

Chapter One: Amethyst Little Fish


Pilot's voice dragged them all from their contemplation of dinner.

"Report, Pilot," D'Argo commanded.

"There is an intruder on board."

It was amusing, John Crichton decided as they all trooped out of the center chamber, how fast they all could pull their guns. One of these days, he really should time them. There was D'Argo, for instance, tall and beefy and Luxian-er than thou, qualta blade at the ready, tentacles twitching. Aeryn was next, her pulse pistol held in a confident and steady grip as her battle-trained reflexes scanned the immediate surrounding area. He'd been surprised that Chiana was now rarely far behind, her small pistol fitting her strangely twitchy grip gracefully. John himself was right behind her, his own pulse pistol waiting for a target to point at. Rygel rarely bothered with guns, but his dinner knife was gripped in a suddenly stiff hand (as if waiting for flesh to present itself for carving). Stark, on the other hand, continued eating. And Granny... well, Noranti merely cocked her head and watched the rest of them with something that could have been amusement.


"Low tier, hammond-side."

"Right." D'Argo looked at them, "John, Aeryn, take the right, Chiana and I will take the left--"

"And we meet in the middle. Gotcha, D."

"I shall come along," announced Noranti. She strode forward, a rather musty stench wafting in front of her, "I shall be needed after all." Her eyes shifted, "She is so..."

"Right. Granny, you're with Aeryn and me."

Sometimes, it still amazed John that Moya was a living ship. The organic walls, the subtle murmurings, the heartbeat that you could feel in your bones. Livvy had called him on it, at one point. Something about him having lost his sense of wonder. She'd said it almost sadly. He didn't like thinking of his recent visit to Earth. Not now, at least.

He and Aeryn got to the junction first, and waited for D'Argo's whispered command.

Then they all sprang out of hiding, weapons leveled.

It was kind of pitiful, really, he thought. The woman couldn't have posed a threat if she'd tried. She was covered in blood, dark patches of her green fatigues shiny with it. At least one arm was broken, and he could see the bone poking out, white and gleaming.

"Don't think she's gonna hurt anyone," John announced into the silence.

Granny shoved past him, "Oh dear, oh dear. So much damage, so little time to fix it in, so much time to gain wisdom."

"She's human," D'Argo said, slowly sliding his qualta blade back into its sheath.

"How do you get that?"

"The patches." He pointed to the two bright scraps of fabric on the woman's shoulders. "Look Earthy, to me."

"Ah." One of them was the American flag, John realized. The other was some circle motiff with a pyramid. He thought. "Interesting." He holstered Wynona and went to kneel next to the woman. For she was a woman, he'd guessed from her build, but Granny had slit open her jacket, and there were womanly... bumps. Breasts. Damn, he was so 13.

A sickening crack echoed in the corridor, and John flinched. Noranti clicked her tongue. "That's better. Bones need to be straight to mend."

"Gosh, Granny. Think you could warn us next time?" It was a good thing the blonde woman was unconscious.

"If she's not a threat, can we move her?" Aeryn still sounded calm and collected.

John glanced up at her, for a moment distracted and just taking in the sight of the woman that he would move (or go through) heaven and hell to keep. Her eyes met his, and he saw them soften slightly. "Hey."

"Must finish binding, then medical." A distracted Noranti said, her hands moving here and there.

"She's--she's dressed like a military." Chiana said, her tone uncertain. Or perhaps she was hiding what she felt by pretending to be uncertain. Frequently, now, John sensed the Nebari girl hiding more and more of herself. He kind of guessed she got it from him. And Aeryn, of course, was the queen of hiding her emotions.

"Yeah." John began searching the pockets of the vest Noranti had cut off the woman. Given the way she was laying there, Crichton was beginning to think she'd been thrown against the wall, then hit the deck. Which was strange, since there wasn't any way for that to occur. Not, of course, that her even being there was logical. But he had long found that logic worked very little in the Uncharted Territories. And not at ALL in Tormented Space.

"Stop that." Granny smacked at his hands. "She doesn't need people poking and prying."

"Just tryin' to find out who she is, Granny."

"Colonel Carter." The irrepressible old woman snapped before returning to bandaging the line of slashes in the woman's torso.

"Huh. Don't know her."

"I need blood."

He blinked, "Uh, Granny, not sure any of us can help you, there."

"Yours should do fine. At least I think." And she suddenly began muttering about humans and their stupid physiologic limitations.

"Blood type should be on her dog tags." He should SO have remembered those. A quick check showed that Lt. Col. Carter, Sam had A- blood. Good. So did he. "Right, Granny, hook us up."

"Not here. We need to move to more stable surroundings. Blankets. And soup."

"Soup would be good," announced Rygel. "More food is always a plan."

"Ah, Sparky, you never change." He really couldn't fault the little Hynerian rat bastard.

A groan came from the woman on the floor, and her eyes flickered.

He found himself staring into impossibly bright blue eyes. "Hey, Colonel. Take it easy there, ma'am."

"Daniel..." Her voice trailed away, her eyes closing as the pain dragged her back under.

"No, actually, that's my dead best friend," he muttered. "Granny, can we move her yet?"

"Yes." The old woman stood, stretching. "One of you strong men needs to carry her."

It wasn't, John decided a moment later, that Sam Carter looked large. She just looked tiny, all crumpled there on the deck. Until you realized that she was really damn tall. D'Argo ended up carrying her.


D'Argo wasn't happy about their new passenger. "How the hell did she get on Moya?"

"I don't know. Pilot," John called, "Were there any ships in this vicinity?"

"No, Commander. Although, Moya's sensors detected something that was like wormhole activity."

"But we closed the warren near here. Shut them all down a week ago."

"Yes. Still, Moya believes that is where she came from." The voice paused, then continued, the tone worried, "Moya also feels worried for this woman. I do not understand this, Commander."

"Well, at least she has a better entrance than most of us."

"Oh, yes," D'Argo said dryly, "She didn't sneak on board, she wasn't a prisoner, and she didn't get frozen."

"You forgot hi-jacked," Aeryn said, her voice amused.

"Right, right."

"Crichton." Granny was suddenly tugging at his arm. "I need your blood now."

Rolling his eyes, but complying, John muttered, "Vampires. They never let you get dinner."


Memory swam through her in starts and stops. The beginning was a mountain, the end was also a mountain, though this one seemed to be sitting on her chest. Breathe in. Breathe out. Pain centered and flexed through her muscles.

"Like old times, Eh, Carter?"

The General's voice had been amused and sardonic. She'd turned to him, turned to mock him or laugh, or something. But they were all five stepping into the event horizon and so she held her tongue. She could snark at him on the other side.

She couldn't remember, currently, the planet designation.

Had they made it there?

She couldn't tell. Sam Carter focused on the fuzziness in her brain and pushed against it. There had been a flicker, at one point. Consciousness. Blue eyes... Daniel. But not Daniel, she remembered. Maybe.



"Not supposed to wake yet," a soft voice murmured in irritation. "Supposed to sleep for arns."

There were other voices, less soft, more annoying. Accents and words that grated against her flayed nerves. "English, Daniel," she croaked. Just her luck. Their luck. A planet where only Daniel could speak to the natives. This happened far too often, damn it.

"Hey." This voice was male, and seemed to be nice. "You're safe here."

"You're not Daniel." She said, still refusing to open her eyes. Daniel...

"Well, no. I'm John."

"Nice to meet you, John." She moved, opening her eyes and taking in the dark-haired man leaning over her. "Where--where's Daniel? Teal'c?" She winced as the pain in her side suddenly woke up, "And Jonas." Her eyes widened. "The General. Where's my team?"

"Sorry, darlin'. You came through alone."

"Alone--no. Oh, god, no." It was too big to contemplate. Too much pain all at once, the physical, the emotional. Sam Carter wasn't often given to fainting and running away from her problems. But right now? Right now, she welcomed the darkness that swallowed her whole.


"Team?" John blinked, staring down at the now unconscious woman. "Pilot, are there any other people on board?"

"No Commander."

"Yeah." He continued staring down at the hand wrapped around his. "Didn't think so."

She hadn't been supposed to wake up when Granny hooked them together. But she had, and those blue eyes had stared at him and demanded things. And had then filled with such fear and pain he'd wondered what she'd do in Scorpy's favorite chair. Better than you did, mocked the voice inside his head.

"Hey, Grandma."

"Hrm?" Canny grey eyes looked at him.

"She gonna wake up again anytime soon?"

"No. The drugs in her system should keep her down for several arns, this time." She frowned, "She shouldn't have been able to wake."

"And you would know all about drugs." He was pretty sure he was mocking her.

"Yes. I would. Time to disconnect you."

"She's very pretty." Chiana whispered, her hand sliding through the short-cropped blonde hair. "I think... I think we should keep her."

Now there was a discussion for a later date. After they found out she was evil, or something.

"Clothes off, now." Granny announced.

John moved, determined not to let Granny cut the Colonel's pants off. "Here, I'll get her pants. And, no, Rygel, you can't have her boots."

"I wasn't even dreaming about it," the Hynerian lied.

"Riight. Chi."


"Don't steal from her bags, and leave the weapons on the side."

The Nebari girl rolled her eyes and went back to smoothing a hand delicately through the blonde hair.

With careful movements, John unbuckled the belt and pants, then slid them down the woman's legs. The skin revealed was as mottled black and blue as her upper body. Damn, but she'd been knocked around.

"All of you, shoo!" Noranti waved her hands, then pointed at Chiana. "You. Stay for a bit, then shoo."

"Right, Grandma." Patting the strange woman on her shoulder, John turned away. He folded the pants and belt and boots together, settling them on top of her pack.


Sam Carter didn't sleep through more than two hours before waking. And this time she was more alert. "Crichton, I require you as translator."

"Aw, Granny," he paused in playing with Aeryn's hair, "Can't you just inject her with translator microbes?"

"I'm worried they might cause an adverse reaction with her immune system this depleted."

"Fine, fine..."

Aeryn poked him in the arm. "You are coming back to bed, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah, baby." He leered.

She snickered, "Go. Tend to Noranti's patient. I'll be here."

"Thank god for that."

Sam Carter was sitting up when he arrived, her back propped with an empty crate and half a dozen pillows.

"Ask her why she's awake," Granny demanded.

"Uh..." It occurred to John that Noranti should know English. He eyed her, but shrugged, and turned to their newest guest. "So. Granny wants to know why you're awake."

"Shouldn't I be?"

Okay. He understood this, really. She was wary and guarded and not about to give any of her secrets away. He wondered how long he would have to work to earn her trust, then decided he didn't care. "Look, I'll spell it out for you. You're injured, we don't know you, you don't know us, none of your 'team' arrived with you, and we're not really sure how you got here. We could have let you die, or dumped you out into deep space. All I want to know is why you seem to be immune to Granny's drugs. It's a simple request."

"Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter." Her uninjured hand was held out. She met his eyes, waiting. He could see something like uncertainty in them.

He slowly shook the hand, "John Crichton. Astronaut."

"Ah." Something flickered in her eyes. Not recognition, but something else. "I always wanted to go to the stars."

"So did I. When I wasn't pissed at my dad for leaving us."

A slight smile touched her lips. "Now we know a little bit about each other. My... resistance to drugs varies. And it's classified, although I can tell you that there seems to be no set pattern." She grimaced. "Makes life really interesting."

"'Kay. Classified, huh?" He waved at the medical bay, "Honey, you're on a ship in the middle of Tormented Space. I think you should re-think how classified works."

"Can't. And..." She stared around the room, then looked back at him. "I'm in space? I've never heard of Tormented Space."

"It's this little known sector that borders the edge of the Uncharted Territories." She was taking the whole being stuck in space thing really well. They'd have to talk about that. But later.

"Ah." Her head bent down and she sighed. "I'm not really sure how I got here. There was... There was so much pain." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Pulling and ripping and tumbling. And then I was here. And the others..."

"Are not." Tumbling. Pulling. Damn, that sounded almost familiar. He shook his head. "What's the last thing you remember before the pain?"

"General O'Neill being a smartass."

John blinked. "I didn't think generals knew how."

"He's a very...special man." A smile touched her lips.

And he was. He was also something else. John had seen the same look in his own eyes when he'd stared in the mirror. Pride and love and dependance and need. It was a subtle thing, and it was only there for a second. If she hadn't been worried about her entire team, it probably wouldn't even have shown. John was swiftly beginning to like this woman. And to wonder where the hell she came from.

"Uh, look, you haven't ever heard of me, have you?"

"No. Should I have?"

"John Crichton? Commander of the Farscape? IASA?"

All three questions left her with a completely blank look, "No. Sorry. Never heard of any of that. It's not classified, is it?"

"No, no... Just... Hrm." Unrealized reality. Which meant-- "You came through a wormhole."

She looked surprised, suddenly cautious. "Yes."

"Look, on my Earth, there aren't wormholes or anything, so you have to come from--"

"Another dimension." she was nodding."Quantum mechanics and inter-dimensional theory. That's why I don't know you. We must have..." A frown deepened her brow. "I don't know how a quantum mirror could have caused the destablization effect, though. And the speed at which I exited the wormhole coupled with the loss of the rest of SG-1..."

"Stable wormholes?" Wait. WAIT. Something clicked in his head. "You travel through stable wormholes, in this alternate universe?"


"Oh. Okay. This sounds really hokey and not quite right," and he was so wondering if he could trust her, but there was an edge of pent-up geekery in her that reminded him of himself when he'd first come aboard Moya. "I think... I think it's my fault you're here."


"All wormholes are inter-connected, all universes are inter-connected in there. I know, I've seen it. And it ain't pretty."

"Okay. Say you're right. How does that explain how I got here and the rest of them didn't?"

"I think..." Now came the difficult part. "I collapsed the nearest entrance to a wormhole. It went from here to Earth. I think that caused some sort of fracture in the entire network."

She had gotten paler, he noticed, her eyes darkening with something that could be anger. "Oh, god. You idiot."

"Didn't have much of a choice, there was a Scarran battle cruiser on the way to conquer my Earth."

"I'm sorry." Her eyes closed, and she seemed to slump. "They could be anywhere. Anytime. Any fucking world or universe."

"There's worse," he said, carefully. "I don't think I can get you home."

Sam Carter's blue eyes opened and regarded him steadily for a moment. "Thank you for offering."


"Look, this is... This is a lot to process. Do you have anything like aspirin on board?" She grimaced. "Now that, uh, Doc's meds have worn off completely, I hurt."

"Yeah. Yeah I think we do."