AUTHOR: Babygirl lizlee@star.net

PAIRING: John/D´Argo

RATING: R semi-descriptive m/m rape.

WARNING: contains violence.

SUMMARY: Following a strange occurrence, Crichton becomes violent.

NOTES: This is a sequel to my story "Emptiness Lost" and the "Blood Brothers" series by Aiobheann.

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to Henson and the SciFi Channel, and no copyright infringement is intended by my use of them. The characters may not belong to me, but the story and my original characters do. Copyright 1999, Babygirl.

FEEDBACK: I would love some.

ARCHIVE: Aiobheann's Farscape Slash, Smutscape, LALEA

D'Argo returned to his quarters. He felt terrible guilt and couldn't get that hurt look of John's out of his mind. He had a deep fear that he may have permanently damaged his relationship with his Sword Brother. They had a good thing together, why did he have to ruin it? Why did he have to hurt the man he loved? He loved Crichton but he also loved Eilynn. How could he love one without hurting the other?

Grabbing his Shilquen he sat down and began playing in an attempt to calm his mind. He'd finished one tune and started another when he turned and saw Crichton standing in the doorway.

Rising to face him, D'Argo noticed that John had a strange look about him, as if he were studying him. Crichton approached and looked D'Argo over as if he were seeing him for the first time

Reaching a hand up he ran his fingers over D'Argo's face, feeling every exaggerated feature. Then moving his hand behind the Luxan's head he pulled him close and kissed him hard and deep. D'Argo returned the kiss, feeling relief at the familiar sensation of his Sword Brother's mouth. Sparking arousal, the kiss grew in intensity, the two men pushing hard against each other. D'Argo wrapped his arms around Crichton and pulled him close.

Crichton grabbed D'Argo's shoulder with one hand and with the other he reached up and grabbed on tightly to the sensitive base of the tentacle just behind his jaw. D'Argo pulled back and gasped at the sudden pain. The surprise of this gave Crichton the opportunity to swing D'Argo around and kick one of his legs out from under him. Losing his balance, the large Luxan fell back with Crichton still holding on, and slammed down on the floor. When he landed hard on his back, pain shot through him. Added to that, Crichton had fallen with him, knocking the wind out of him as he landed on the Luxan's chest.

Finding his breath, D'Argo inhaled sharply. His head had slammed against the hard floor as well and his body throbbed with the pain and shock of the impact. All the while Crichton still had his hand clamped on his tentacle.

"What the hezmona are you doing?" D'Argo spoke, finally overcoming his surprise at this sudden turn of events. He reached his arms up and tried to push Crichton off him; releasing his tentacle, Crichton grabbed D'Argo's wrists and pinned them to the floor next to his head.

"Take it like a warrior, Luxan." Crichton hissed. "I think you owe me one." He then leaned down and planted his mouth on D'Argo's. The kiss was forceful, almost brutal.

D'Argo didn't fight, perhaps he deserved this? He felt Crichton release one of his wrists so that he could unfasten the clasps on his tunic. As soon as the clasps were opened Crichton yanked D'Argo over by his shoulder, flipping him onto his stomach. D'Argo remained still as his thick tunic was hastily pulled off. Then he felt John's knee as it pressed down on the small of his back. Crichton was quiet and there was a strange, calm rhythm to his breathing, as if this was all normal and he wasn't being particularly cruel to his lover.

Grabbing D'Argo's wrists again he began to lash them together behind the large Luxan's back. D'Argo gasped as the thin cord Crichton was using cut into his flesh. How could this be happening, was Crichton so angry that he'd needed to result to this brutality?

The last knot was tied and D'Argo was again flipped over onto his back. Crichton kneeled over him, straddling his waist and smiled down at him with a wicked grin. D'Argo grunted and jerked against the tight cords that bound his wrists, cutting into the skin and blocking off the circulation to his hands.

"I suppose you think I deserve this?" D´Argo tried to make his voice sound as calm and commanding as possible despite the awkward position he was in.

"You don't suppose anything," Crichton growled. "You just lay there and take what I give you."

Crichton leaned down and began to viciously kiss and bite D'Argo's chest. Squirming under the pain D'Argo did his best to endure Crichton's wrath.

* * * * *

D'Argo stood at one of the computer panels in command. He'd pulled up the I-Tone's logs for the last couple of days before its engines exploded. Aeryn had not been happy with Eilynn's explanation that the engines simply overloaded without any warning and had been reviewing them herself. D'Argo decided to look at them as well, if nothing else, to alleviate the boredom.

It seemed like a good idea but he found that his thoughts wouldn't let go of the events of the last aarn. About Crichton and his actions. At first it hadn't seemed too unusual. Crichton had made several comments in the past about their roles as sexual partners. Crichton had accepted his position as the weaker Sword Brother but had expressed a wish to explore "the whole dominance thing" as Crichton had put it, and perhaps reverse the roles, at least once, anyway.

But today he'd come at D'Argo with such a fury. At first D'Argo allowed it, even expected it. He trusted Crichton enough to let him be in control, if only briefly. But Crichton seemed to want more, to take more. That's what it had felt like, as if Crichton was taking without any plans to give. Even in the role as alpha partner, D'Argo had always made sure that Crichton got as much out of the experience as he did.

There was more to it than that; Crichton seemed rough and demanding. He knew all of D'Argo's most sensitive spots and abused that knowledge by using digging fingers and biting teeth to force D'Argo to submit. A submission D'Argo would've gladly extended to his lover, at least occasionally.

Soon this game didn't feel much like a game anymore and D'Argo found himself resisting, fighting back. Not in an effort to enhance the experience but to defend himself against what felt like a brutal assault. This resistance seemed to add fire to Crichton's sadistic passion, feeding an overwhelming strength that D'Argo never knew Crichton had. A strength that D'Argo found hard to fight against, as Crichton laid into his flesh in a savage attack.

What normally would´ve been moans of pleasure became gasps of pain. A release of pent up ecstasy under a caressing hand had become a hard pain brought on by a brutal touch. Soft kisses were now vicious bites. Crichton seemed to enjoy the pain he was inflicting. D'Argo saw in his eyes the arousal as skin was bruised and torn. It was if he was no longer looking at his sword brother, his most trusted ally and lover, but instead a malevolent being staring at him through Crichton's eyes.

Switching off the console, D'Argo walked over to the conference table and sat down. He hissed in pain as his weight settled down on the seat. Crichton had been anything but gentle, thrusting into him with no pause. Just pushing forward again and again, stretching and tearing, hard and unyielding.

D'Argo remembered that when it was over there were no words. Crichton simply got dressed and left, not even bothering to untie D'Argo's wrists. D'Argo had to cut himself loose with his Qualta and was left to tend to many small, bleeding wounds. He remembered looking into the mirror, numbed by the shock of the whole experience, as he saw the bruises and welts that were appearing on his skin.

A thought drifted into his mind, one that he pushed back and refused to acknowledge. A thought that embodied the actions of the last aarn. There was a word that described what Crichton had done, a concept that D'Argo refused to associate being a victim of. A word that personified the malice, the brutality, the pain, the humiliation. A word that D'Argo fought against in his mind yet it consumed him just as Crichton had.

This word was RAPE!

No!

D'Argo refused to accept this. He was a Luxan warrior and Luxan warriors don't get raped. Especially by their own Sword Brothers.

Crichton was just angry, that's all. D'Argo remembered the hurt in John's eyes when he confessed his feelings for Eilynn. It seemed that Crichton was hurt by it more than he'd ever expected. He remembered, at first, how much difficulty Crichton had accepting the concept of Sword Brothers. How he'd seem to come close yet pull away at the same time. He knew it had been a hard struggle for John. To be pulled by his desire yet repulsed by cultural prejudices. Although John had accepted it more and more with each encounter there still was this tug of uncertainty. Perhaps this inner struggle combined with the thought that Eilynn was now an adversary for D'Argo's affections was more than John could handle. Perhaps, in a fit of rage, Crichton had sought to punish him, to hurt him as much as he'd been hurt.

D'Argo shifted in his seat and paused to let the stinging subside.

Perhaps that was the answer but it gave him little comfort.

"D'Argo!"

He looked up to see Eilynn come stomping into command. Her hands were clenched in fists and her eyes were aflame with rage.

"Where is it!" she demanded.

D'Argo looked at her questioningly. "Where's what?"

"Don't give me that dren!" she hissed. "I know you don't approve of some of the choices I've made in my life but they're my choices!'

"What the hezmana are you talking about?" D'Argo was beginning to get tired of being attacked by the one's he cared about.

"I'm talking about my Tavlek drug and injector. They were in my quarters earlier and now they're gone! I don't need this frelling dren right now!"

"I don't have it." D'Argo growled.

"I knew what I was doing when I started taking the drug. I knew the consequences. I've planned to get off it, but not until I'm ready!"

"Eilynn!" D'Argo's voice was low and stern.

"I know you have it! Give it back!" she yelled.

D'Argo sprang from his seat and faced Eilynn with a piercing glare. "I don't have you precious drugs!"

The two stared at each other for a few minutes. Taking a step back, Eilynn turned away and looked up placing one hand on her forehead. "Oh, D'Argo! I need my drugs. I can't be dealing with withdrawals. Not now!"

"Maybe you misplaced it." D'Argo's voice was calm.

"I don't know," she moaned as she covered her face with her hands. "I don't know anymore. Great Light, I don't think I can handle this."

D'Argo walked over and wrapped his arms around her. For a moment Eilynn sunk into his embrace. He grunted softly as she pressed herself against his sore, bruised body. Then suddenly she pushed herself away, breaking free from his hug.

"No!" she gasped. "I don't have time for this. I have to stay focussed."

D'Argo watched as she began to pace nervously around command. He couldn't help thinking how strung out and pathetic she looked.

Her pacing stopped when Breg's voice came over her comm. badge. "Eilynn, are you there?"

"Yes! What is it?" she said impatiently.

"We have a problem. Are you alone?"

Eilynn glanced over at D'Argo for a moment before answering. "Yes, I'm alone."

"One of the yellow crates is missing."

Her eyes widened. "Which one?"

"The one we can't afford to loose." Breg's tone was clearly distressed.

Eilynn sighed, dragging one hand though her hair. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Breg said.

"I'll be right there." She turned off her communicator and stomped her foot hard against the floor. "Frell, Frell, FRELL!"

D'Argo opened his mouth but before he could speak Eilynn turned and ran out of the room.

He stood alone again in command with his thoughts.

/What the frelling hezmana is going on around here? Has everyone gone insane or is it just the people I've slept with?/

He decided to find Crichton and, as disturbing as it was, discuss what had happened between them earlier. He wasn't looking forward to it but knew he just couldn´t let it go. Not if he were to ever trust Crichton again.

As he walked down the hall he ran his hand lightly over his chest. The welts had started to go down but the bruises had darkened. D'Argo was especially disturbed by the half moon shaped sores that were caused by Crichton's teeth. He was painfully aware of how noticeable they were and hoped the others wouldn't ask him about them. It would be hard enough discussing this out loud with John; he didn't need to explain his attack to anyone else.

Nearing Crichton's quarters he could tell by the absence of his scent that John was not in there, however, he decided to go in anyway. Looking around D'Argo tried to see if there was anything different that might give him a clue to Crichton's behavior. Aside from a bit of extra clutter the room looked as it always had. Turning to leave, though, he noticed a small black box sitting on the table. He recognized it as the container Eilynn used to keep her Tavlek drug and injector in. Walking over he picked it up and opened it.

It was empty.

A wave of relief washed over him. Crichton was taking the Tavlek drug, which would explain his behavior. It was a power stimulant that enhanced aggressive tendencies. D'Argo remembered when the Tavleks kidnapped Rygel. He remembered when he put on the Gauntlet and how he reacted when the drug entered his blood stream. He became combative and controlling. He wanted to take command of the ship and had even attacked his friends.

It all made perfect sense but left D'Argo with yet another perplexing question.

What made Crichton suddenly decide to take the drug?

Grabbing the empty box, he headed off to the next place he guessed Crichton would be.

* * * * *

As expected, D'Argo found Crichton in the main hanger working on his Farscape module.

As he approached Crichton spoke without looking up from what he was doing. "What do you want?"

D'Argo held up Eilynn's black container. "Some frelling answers."

Crichton looked up at him with a placid face. "I don't think it's any of your business."

"It is when affects me!"

Crichton made a mock concerned face. "What's the matter, big warrior, can't handle a little rough play?" He then stood up and sauntered over to D'Argo, stopping just inches away. "You have no problem dishing it out but I see you can't take it."

He stared into D'Argo's eyes; there was no flirtation, no game playing. It was a hard, challenging stare.

D'Argo stared back just as hard. He could feel his blood boiling with rage. "I have never treated you so harshly!" he growled.

"You know," Crichton hissed. "I really don't give a shit!" Thrusting his hands forward he shoved D'Argo hard.

The force knocked the big Luxan back a couple of steps. Seething with rage he roared and lunged towards Crichton. His whole body, however, suddenly reeled back from a powerful shock as Crichton's fist slammed across his face. The force of the punch was stronger that D'Argo ever expected Crichton to have. It threw him back causing him to lose his balance and fall heavily to the floor.

Crichton stood over his Sword Brother with his hand still clenched in a fist and a sadistic grin on his face. "Now if you don't mind, I have a lot of fucking work to do!" He then turned and walked casually out of the hanger bay.

D'Argo leaped to his feet. He wanted to go after Crichton and beat some sense into him. Drug or no drug, Sword Brother or not, D'Argo was still the dominant male and deserved some respect. Putting his hand to his face, though, he could feel the blood gushing from his mouth and nose. Running his tongue along his teeth he could feel that some of them were loose and guessed that his nose was probably broken.

The blood that filled his hand was thick and black. His newest wounds required immediate attention thus delaying any necessary disciplining of a certain Sword Brother.

Cursing his Luxan blood, D'Argo turned and left the hanger bay.

* * * * *

"Dren! Dren! Frelling dren!"

Eilynn spat out curses as she ransacked her quarters. She'd asked everyone she could find and retraced every step she'd taken since she had come aboard Moya but was unable to find her drug case. She was now throwing things around her cell in the faintest hope that she'd only misplaced it. That coupled with the fact that a certain crate had also gone missing was driving her into a frustrated rage. It had been several aarns since her last injection and she was already starting to feel the slightest pangs of withdrawals.

Knitting her hands into her hair she let out a frustrated growl.

As if hit by a shock of energy, Eilynn felt a hand on the back of her neck pushing her violently forward only to stop when her head slammed into the wall in front of her. Dazed by the shock and pain that vibrated through her head she was helpless as the hand pulled her back and slammed her head against the wall a second time and then a third.

As the world buzzed around her she barely noticed her body slump to the floor as the hand released her. Then in a moment of clarity she realized that she was being attacked. Struggling to stand she felt the hand clamp onto the back of her neck again. The fingers digging into sensitive pressure points, sending stabs of pain down her body. Then she was moving again, being flung forward until this time she slammed into the mirror mounted above her small dresser. She could hear the glass shatter but felt little of the shock as a strange numbness hit her.

She tried to focus her eyes, tried to see who was doing this to her but she could only see her own dark blood as it ran into her eyes.

The hand, still clamped to her neck, pulled her up and she felt the other hand grab the waistband of her pants. The next thing she knew she was projected forward, airborne. For a moment her arms and legs touched nothing. Then there was a thud and a snap as she struck the floor. Fiery pain exploded in her wrist and shot up her arm. Gasping for air she nearly choked on a mouthful of her own blood.

Then there were footsteps and the hands were on her again, flinging her across the room. When she landed her body froze, paralyzed from terror and pain. She struggled to get her bearings, to tell up from down, to force her eyes to focus. Desperately she rubbed her face, clearing away the blood and straining to see.

Peering across the room she was able to make out a set of boots. Looking up she saw a pair of beige pants, a black T-shirt and then a face.

It was Crichton!

TO BE CONTINUED…