SUMMARY: Basically a re-write of the funeral scene in "Die Me Dichotomy", slightly reminiscent of "Romeo and Juliet", and done from the point of view of… wait for it… Moya.

RATING: Leviathans don't know how to swear, but for content… PG? Hey, most of the episodes are, right? And almost definitely J/A.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The ending of Season 2 provoked more fanfic from my mind, in the least amount of time I've ever known. Most of them were possible outcomes of "Die Me Dichotomy", otherwise known as 'therapy' fics to pass those terrible 9 months that the BBC made me wait to see Season 3. Naturally, I was way off what really happened, and, apart from being redundant, are also terrible :) This one, however, was a little different, in that it was an alternative version of Aeryn's funeral. As for why I did this from Moya's point of view, well… I noticed that nobody ever seems to do anything from her point of view, and since she's a sentient being, doesn't that seem a little unfair? We know she can talk - she spoke to Zhaan in the "Look At The Princess" trilogy - and she communicates to Pilot continually. The question I asked myself here was "If Leviathans could talk… what would they say?" Here is the answer.

ADDITIONAL: A few things that have occurred differently pre-fic - for starters, the funeral takes place on the Terrace, hence why Moya can see, and secondly, John has had the chip removed successfully. I wanted him sane for this… even though his actions probably dictate otherwise…


© T'eyla Minh 2001

I am Moya.

You know me as a Leviathan, a living, breathing vessel. What you don't know is that I see everything that occurs within me. Not just through the DRDs of my Pilot, but through my every wall, my every pore and vein, throughout my entire being. I see, I watch, I observe the life I support…

Such small life. I never used to consider it much until our Refugees came along. I was accustomed to crews of Peacekeepers, marching, training, and harsh, sometimes cruel in their ways. I would shut them from my thoughts, I found it easier not to focus on them. Or on what they did to my poor Pilot - to both of them - because, after all, we share our pain. But the Refugees… they were different. Of course, they were none of them really refugees, but fugitives, escaped prisoners. However, Pilot and I decided long ago that they had committed no crime against us, and our job was to allow them a safe journey within my walls through the Uncharted Territories… so we referred to them as, simply, our Refugees.

They were certainly quieter than the Peacekeepers. Yes, even the Luxan, Ka D'Argo, was quiet compared to a hoard of Peacekeeper soldiers. Despite his tendency for hyper-rage, Ka D'Argo turned out to be a complex individual who was so much more than he appeared on the surface. He saved me on many an occasion.

The Delvian, Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan, she was so calm, so serene, and her voice - when she sang, it was wonderful. Her healing powers were amazing, and she was able to sedate Pilot with a touch or a word.

Rygel, the Hynerian Dominar, I have no real opinion of, even though he has proven himself to be quite useful and selfless on occasion. These were the originals… then came Chiana and Stark, Nebari and Bannik respectively. Chiana seemed to have gotten quite attached to Pilot after experiencing life in his body, something I myself have often yearned for. Although we are bonded on many levels, we do not understand each other completely - a chance to swap existences would certainly be… interesting.

As for Stark, he was almost as wonderful as Zhaan, but he had much to learn, and he seemed rather… erratic on occasion… And that made up our crew.

No, wait. I appear to have forgotten something, but what? Ah, yes, of course, the other two crew members. It has been so long since I thought of them, you see. One was what is now known to us as a 'human', who went by the name of John Crichton. I recall vividly the moment we discovered his strange craft when it appeared before us - how I took him in to safety. As he might have put it, he was "in the right place at the wrong time"… well, he would put it better. His strange manner of speaking 'rubbed off' on us all, but nothing can ever replace him.

So that leaves only one other person - Officer Aeryn Sun. A Peacekeeper when she came aboard. She was the one I was most wary of at first - the last thing I desired was more warriors aboard, but she proved to be adept with my controls, and later became very close to Pilot. The unfortunate incident that provoked this actually became a gift. She was truly affected by John Crichton, possibly most of all.

As I said before, I observe, and I always have. And of course, I observe everything at once as it occurs. But once, and only once, I focussed all of my attention in one place, to be the only living being to see what truly occurred that fateful Solar day. It has been my secret, even from my Pilot, but the time has come at last to tell that story. The story of what I, and only I, saw on the day of Aeryn's Sun funeral… and how I learnt that the 'small life' I had so taken for granted in my watching was so much greater that I could ever be…

When she crashed into the ice on the planet, everyone was devastated. I could empathise then only because of my poor Pilot's heartfelt prayers. He could not attend because of his bond to me - I recall feeling something I can now recognise as guilt - but observed the service with the DRDs. Pa'u Zhaan and Stark performed the ceremony, and everyone said a few last words to the lifeless body of Officer Sun (a custom I still do not understand)… everyone, that is, except John Crichton. He asked Ka D'Argo for his knife, and then asked everybody to leave him alone. Somehow he persuaded, I still do not know how, and even the DRDs were politely requested to leave. I'm sure if he had known I was there as well, I would have been asked to divert my attention elsewhere. Sensing his need for privacy, I disabled the comms, without informing Pilot - he was too engrossed in mourning to notice.

Commander Crichton did nothing for several microts, to ascertain that everyone had left, and then he fingered Ka D'Argo's knife thoughtfully. Quietly, he approached her, and knelt beside the pod she was to be frozen in, looking at her. Then using the knife, he cut some of her hair and put it in his pocket. Several more microts passed, and then he suddenly leant over her, whispering to her still form. "Aeryn, forgive me. I love you." He kissed her… and then my view was blocked from all angles, infuriatingly. Instantly, though, I knew what he had done - he collapsed, and convulsed, and my conclusion was, correctly, that he had pushed the same knife into his own stomach.

He fell forward onto her… and then she began to move. I had heard of this, many cycles ago - a technique the Peacekeepers used to employ known as 'False Death'. When in a life-threatening situation, some of them were able to stop their heart voluntarily until such time as help might come… this is exactly what she had done, it would appear. It was John's rather haphazard fall on her that had started it again…

Instantly, he realised and forced himself up. She was alive, and he realised far too late what he had just done…


"John…" She knew something was wrong. "You didn't. Tell me you-" He raised a bloodstained hand. "Frell, you did."

"I'm so sorry," was all he could say. She tried to call Zotoh Zhaan over the comms, but, of course, was unsuccessful. In desperation, she tried to convince herself:

"John, you're going to be fine, we just need to-"

"No, Aeryn. I'm not. I think I actually managed to do something right." He coughed, a horrible sound that wracked his entire body. Blindly, she placed a hand over where she assumed the wound was. He shook his head. "I don't think stemming the blood will help."

"But, surely-"

"There's nothing you can do." He coughed again. "I'm sorry. So sorry. So sorry, so sorry…" He seemed unable to say anything else but those words. Silently, Officer Sun began to weep.

"John, don't you dare die on me!"

"… so sorry, so sorry…" he repeated, now shaking involuntarily from the effort of remaining conscious. She held onto his arms firmly.

"Listen to me, Crichton!" Her tone quieted him and he looked at her. "You are not going to frelling die!"

"Yes…" He coughed again and they both winced. "I can't fight it now, and neither can you."

"I don't believe that… I won't believe it." She made another valiant effort to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. Taking both of her bloodstained hands in one of his own, and putting the other clean one to her face, he kept her gaze locked to his. There was silence.

I could never understand before how these bipedal races could bear to look at only one thing, on one place at once, with no scope for what was not right in front of them. In that instant, however, when the universe around them seemed to stop, I realised the advantages of such a primitive idea of vision. Even it they had not been alone on the Terrace, I am sure any other presence would have gone completely unnoticed. As for myself, I was, for the first time in my existence, completely unaware of what was occurring outside of that room…

For what seemed liked arns, they said and did nothing, simply sat there. Aeryn Sun silently wept while John Crichton cleared away the tears. Both of them were covered in his blood by this stage, and had clearly accepted it was useless. When he finally spoke again, all he could do was weakly repeat what he had said before she awoke. This was something he wanted her to hear. "Aeryn… forgive me… I love you."

She visibly fought an inner battle, deciding whether he actions or words would be best. So she kissed him, then looked at him. "I forgive you, John… I love you." Pulling him closer, they then sat in silence while she allowed him to drift slowly into unconsciousness. When he finally lay still in her arms she did nothing… she did not even weep. Now, we Leviathans do not weep, but if we could, that was what I would have been doing. I felt such pain for them… Pilot felt the emotion as it surged through me, and, thinking something was horribly wrong, reactivated the comms without even questioning why they were off, to inform the others. They moved as one being towards the Terrace and as they approached, Officer Sun heard them. Placing John Crichton's body in the position it was when he fell, she lay back in the pod and closed her eyes, holding her breath. She could only hear the chaos that ensued on her arrival, and sensed his body being lifted from the pod, wanting to reach out but knowing she could not.

I will assume that she convinced them all she was dead. This is all I remember, because as soon as the doors opened I was once again aware of everything. The attention I paid the tragic scene was lost. For the next few cycles, in fact, I paid very little attention to the crew at all… except for Chiana - my mentor in emotion. It has now been five cycles since that day, and we are all still travelling and searching for home. We are all of us learning… and I am the first Leviathan to feel real emotion. If I can learn, then so too may my offspring Talyn - whom I am teaching slowly with the help of Crais - and perhaps even more of us.

I have John Crichton, 'earthman', to thank for this. He introduced us all to his strange, wonderful ways, and taught not only Aeryn Sun, but myself, the way to find our hearts. Much gratitude goes to him… eternally our friend and teacher…