THE FARSCAPE HORROR SHOW

SUMMARY: Just a little crossover fun! *manic grin* This has been fermenting at the back of my brain for a while, and it's about goddamn time I wrote it! If you know the plot of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show", then you'll know the plot of this. If not, let the surprise commence here. Besides, YOU try summing up RHPS without giggling your butt off…

RATING: Damn. I'm saying PG-13 for content. The Rocky Horror fans will know why… It's a shippy-silly-fic!!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters and I hereby apologise profusely to Rockne and co for abusing them in this manner. The plot of Rocky Horror belongs to Richard O'Brien, and long may they both reign!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This demanded to be written really. I had the idea a while back and I've put it off long enough! And seriously, when you see who I cast as Frankie, how the frell could I resist! I'm trying to figure out where this is set. Let's say post season 3 after all the angst and relationship problems have been sorted… and I'm pretending Crais never went good. Just because it suits my purpose. *giggle* And I apologise for all the silly alien names and words. Not good at making words up. Sorry. Similarly not good at writing accents, as you can probably tell.

The first chapter doesn't really focus on the Rocky Horror side of things, but it does set the scene since I didn't have enough characters for Betty Munroe and Ralph Hapshatt… but it's still sorta silly and definitely shippy… Hehe.

Anyway, this is a sillyfic!! I intend no disrespect! Please don't flame me, but feel free to review.

The Farscape Horror Show

© T'eyla Minh 2001

CHAPTER ONE

"Well… that was certainly an… interesting experience," pondered Aeryn from the front of the prowler. She pulled it into a neat parabola as they flew back to Moya.

"Yeah," agreed Crichton. "I don't know, you go down for supplies, you come back engaged. Whatcha gonna do?"

"Well you needn't think it means anything," she said determinedly. "Just because some fahrbot law decides we have to get married doesn't necessarily mean it's true."

"I guess," he said, somewhat absently. He watched as she expertly manoeuvred the small craft, remembering what had happened on the planet they were moving away from.

~*~*~

They'd gone down to restock with what little means of payment they'd managed to scrape together. The planet seemed friendly, and apparently willing to haggle to even the lowest prices. The people were Sebacean, with an accent his translator microbes interpreted as vaguely Irish. Within a few arns, they'd already got more than enough to restock the ship, and were making their way back to the prowler.

Then, it had all gotten a little crazy. They passed some kind of religious building where a couple were getting married, and John was suddenly struck by how Earth-like the ceremony was. He pulled Aeryn aside to watch, explaining things. With some amusement, he noted that the guests even threw something very similar to rice over the couple. They were just about to walk away, when one of the guests leapt in front of them. If she hadn't been so laden with supplies, Aeryn probably would have drawn her pulse pistol on reflex, if the look on her face was any indication.

The strange little man, who, with his short stature, Irish-sounding accent, and garish green suit, reminded John inexplicably of a leprechaun, called over the religious leader who had been conducting the ceremony.

"Makrin!" he called. "Looks like we got us another pair of sheerots!"

Aeryn blushed. John looked confused.

"What's that?" he asked her. Before she could answer, however, Makrin came over and clapped his hands together gleefully.

"Wonderful!" he said, and then turned to them. "And when is t'e happy day?"

"We're not-" Aeryn began. The leprechaun interrupted.

"Ah, now t'at doesn't matter, Makrin." To them: "You're bot' welcome to come back here if ye so want. Makrin here is known for t'e best weddin' ceremony in t'is system."

The realisation suddenly dawned on John as he understood what 'sheerot' meant. "Wedding?! No, guys, there's some mistake, we're not-"

Makrin cut him off. They appeared to be a very argumentative people. "Now don't ye be tellin' me ye're not to be wedded. Why else would ye be carryin' all t'at food - and together, no less - on t'ese streets?"

"We're from a ship," said Aeryn, speaking loudly so as not to be interrupted again. "We're just here to restock our supplies. Now if you don't mind…" She made to move forwards again, indicating for John to follow.

Before they knew what was happening, they were both bustled into a small office, supplies and all. Makrin and the leprechaun looked at each other, then John and Aeryn, then each other again, and nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Would one of you mind explaining what the hell's goin' on?!" asked John, exasperated. He placed his bundle of food down on a nearby table, and picked up the smaller man by his collar. "You, leprechaun-boy. Start talking."

"Now t'ere's no need for t'at!" he said, frantically waving his arms and legs about, to no avail.

"I'll explain," said Makrin. John frowned and put the other man down, then feigned impatience. "Our people are empaths."

"You sense emotions?" asked Aeryn, clarifying.

"T'at's correct. And we're sensin' a lot of emotion between you two." The two of them looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before glaring back at Makrin. "And if ye're not sheerots, well t'en, ye should be."

"Wait a microt, said John. "You're saying that me and Aeryn are…" he let it linger, then laughed. "Dude, you're insane."

"Deny it all ye want, laddie, but t'ere's somethin' between ye, and it's stronger than anyt'ing I've encountered before now."

"Fine. So maybe there is." Surprisingly, that was Aeryn. "But that doesn't mean we're sheerots."

"I'm afraid," explained the leprechaun, "t'at around here, it does." He produced a small book and opened it to a page written in a language John couldn't understand. Aeryn read it, then groaned.

"Frell…"

"Who did we manage to piss off this time?"

"Nobody, but…" she stopped. Read it again. "Frell…"

"What?!"

"John… it's against the law here for two people to be seen carrying food together unless they're married, or they're going to be."

"You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately, I'm not."

"Lemme see that!" He took the book, peered at it, turned it upside down, and squinted. The markings looked completely unfamiliar. Aeryn snatched it off him again and gave it back to Makrin. "Okay. So what now?"

Makrin smiled a warm, toothy smile. "Well… t'ere is a little ceremony I can-"

"No," said Aeryn, firmly. "We're not-"

"Not t'at kind of ceremony. A different one. It'll just make ye sheerots while ye're here so ye won't get questioned again by t'e likes of us."

John grinned involuntarily, one of his latest dreams suddenly about to come very quickly true. He dropped it when he caught Aeryn's glare. She gestured for him to pick up his load of supplies again.

"Fine. But just make it quick."

~*~*~

John was partially pleased with the outcome, and partially very irritated. On the plus side, somehow, he'd ended up engaged to Aeryn. He was suddenly very glad Chiana or Jool hadn't come on the trip with him. Explaining that to Aeryn later wouldn't have been very fun. On the down side, he argued with himself, she didn't exactly seem ecstatic with the situation.

But, Johnny-boy, his mind kept screaming, you're engaged. To Aeryn. He grinned again. The Prowler lurched and he nearly fell out of his seat. He was beginning to think she could sense when he was being idiotic. He frowned slightly and started to think again. Engaged. To Aeryn. This was a Good Thing. Except, he was incredibly irritated by the fact that he hadn't even had the chance to ask her, and it wasn't the dashingly romantic (or at least as romantic as one could get in the Uncharted Territories) scenario he'd envisaged.

He decided he'd better talk to her before he went crazy. "Aeryn?"

"Yes?" She didn't look at him, her attention focussed on looking where she was going.

"About this sheerot thing…" He sensed a slight shift in her mood, but was unable to tell in which direction. He continued, carefully. "I know we didn't exactly… plan for it. And I know you weren't exactly willing to go ahead with it either." There was something resembling a nod. "But… I'm not sure if you realise… uh… how important this is to me…"

There were a few microts of deathly silence, and then: "Why?"

"Well… um… see, I've been thinking about this particular… uh… arrangement, for a while, actually." He caught himself before he rambled on any further. "It's just… I hope you're not gonna just ignore it."

"Like I said, it doesn't mean anything, John. It was just a necessity, after all."

"Yeah, I know… but…" He was floundering, and picked his words carefully. Lately, Aeryn had a unique way of either leaving his head spinning euphorically, or his heart mangled beyond repair, and he was aiming for somewhere in the middle of the two. "Let's just pretend it wasn't a necessity, okay? Let's pretend there was no Makrin and no stupid laws, and it was just me and you. Right?"

Another nod. "Right."

"Right. So… imagine if, in this pretend scenario, I'd actually asked you…" He let the comment linger before he expanded on it. "Would you have been more willing, under those circumstances?"

"I can't answer that, John. I'm not good at hypothetical scenarios."

"Fine, fair enough… let's forget the hypothesising for a while. I'm asking you. Now." He was beginning to wish he could see her reactions. There was another seemingly interminable pause.

Finally, she turned enough that he could see her face, proving that she could, in fact, pilot without looking. "I can't answer that either." This time, there was more regret to her tone, but nevertheless, John could feel the vice closing on his chest.

"Any reason… why?" he prompted.

"I just can't…" He sighed and she knew that wasn't going to be a good enough answer. "I don't know. It's not like I haven't thought about it, too… I suppose I wasn't expecting to go for supplies and come back…" She let the thought trail off, not trusting herself to stay in control if she said the 'e-word'. Sighing, more irritated than anything at the situation, she added: "Just forget about it, John. It was just a stupid ritual."

With that, she returned her attention to the small shape of Moya, approaching, presently a very misshapen, brown dot in the sky.

"Just a stupid ritual?" he asked, incredulous. "If you know how frelling long I-"

"I know. Really. I'm sorry, but I don't see why it's so important to you."

In exasperation, all other options now completely defunct, he resorted to the only one he had left. "Dammit, Aeryn! I love you, but sometimes, you-"

"What… the… frell…?" she said, interrupting him.

"What?"

She indicated Moya, up ahead, now closer… and Talyn, in clear view, hovering behind his mother like he'd always been there. "It's Talyn."

"Talyn means Crais…" said John, putting two and two together, "and today is not a good day to die…" He immediately activated his coms. "Pilot? What in the name of Hell is going on?!"

There was no answer. Talyn was flying very close to Moya, it appeared, and both ships were ominously still. All they could do now was wait, and investigate once they returned to the Leviathan…

Chapter Two gets here if I get 5 reviews… Seriously, tell me what you think. The real fun starts soon!