Farscape Land Big Bang - ASHES TO ASHES

[nymeria_dw]

Third of four fanfictions written for the Big Bang Challenge
Disclaimer: Farscape and its characters don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for a few microts...



ASHES TO ASHES (PG - 13)

He watches the flames consume the tattoo casts until only ashes remain, thinking that they look like his feelings, ground to dust but still smoldering with heat.  

For a brief moment he wonders where this kind of poetic comparison comes from, since he's never been one for flights of fancy, then Zhaan's kind face floats in his mind's eye, and he understands.  

She would have used these words, enclosed the pain within the gentle framework of her philosophy and given what solace she could.  

He misses her counsel now, much as he wanted to resent it in the past. Misses talking to her, knowing that whatever he says will not be weighed and judged, only listened to.  But he can't walk that road now. Zhaan is dying.

There will be no soothing balm for Ka D'Argo's hurts.

The acid burn of betrayal still digs a painful pit in the center of his stomach, and he feels the need to lash out, hurt, maim, kill. To bury his own pain by inflicting more on another.

But not on her. Never on her.

Because despite everything, he still cares. And this is what's tearing him apart, ripping at his insides as no battle wound ever did. Knowing that beyond the forgiveness he can't offer, there's still a link binding him to her, and her to him.

Because she cares too.

This awareness hurts him more than the treachery itself, because it's so much like her - unfathomable, mind-bending, impossible to grasp as water running through your fingers. The very quality that attracted him to her in the first place, is now what makes it impossible to turn his back and excise her from his mind as he would a thorn from his flesh.

Drawn to her unwillingness to conform as a moth to a flame, he had foolishly tried to catch that flame in his hands - searing his soul in the process and branding them both with something much more permanent, and painful, than a ritual tattoo.

How many times had he ignored the signs?  How many times had he heard but not listened? Maybe from the very start.

Don't tell me what to do!
Well somebody has to!
D'Argo, I had a brother. He's gone. I don't need another.
I don't want to be…  your brother.
Then what?

Yes, what indeed? And more important, what had he wanted her to be?

Chiana's rebelliousness had resurrected the lost shades of his past, of another woman who would not conform or accept to do what she was told. One who was not afraid of throwing away everything for something she wanted.

He now wonders if he's been so unfair toward Chiana that he tried to fit her into a ghost's shape, knowing she would resist any such attempt, that her own past would make this look more terrifying than death.

Had she sensed this? Had she seen the need behind the flimsy walls he put around it? Maybe she had, and had tried to tell him how foolish it was to dwell in those dreams, but he had chosen not to understand.

Hey - It's just a game for us D'Argo. Okay? We don't play by the rules they do.
The truth is we're not compatible.
Only our DNA.  Not the parts that make us feel pleasure...

A game she had called it, and he had tried to play it without knowing the rules. Or rather, he had tackled it as a serious endeavor. And lost.   

The long cycles of captivity and deprivation had left him with a consuming hunger, the need to reclaim what had been torn from his grasp.   So, once given the chance to rebuild from scratch, he had grown greedy, and demanding.  He had wanted perfection to be born out of the rubble of his former life.

You're one of us now. There's no need for you to act like you're not.
D'Argo - I always do what I want, okay? I don't know why. It's just the way I am.
I understand that, but–
Yeah, but you're not gonna change me!
I'm only just beginning to realize that.

It pains him now to recognize the faint tinge of contempt he couldn't keep from his voice then, the childish pique in acknowledging that this beautiful, unpredictable toy refused to be wound up and played to his whim. Had that been the beginning of the end?

You're pretty straight, huh?
Yes. I am.
We're not gonna make it. Are we?

The warning had been plain, yet he had ignored it, focused as he had been in securing the last piece of his perfect puzzle, the long-lost son.

The heat of the incinerator is subsiding rapidly, and again he thinks there is an object lesson in the image: a fire fueled on groundless hopes that burned too strong, leaving behind no warmth or comfort.   Once more, he had let expectations blind him to hard facts, confident that the memory of the child he'd left behind would have grown into the reality of a loving adult, waiting only to embrace him and reconnect past and present into a complete future.

He shakes his head at his own stupidity, at the naïve foolishness in throwing together two over-pressured rebels and believing they would sit back and accept his directions.  He had done what he thought was best, for all of them, but it had not been anywhere enough.

Like a miser, he had hoarded all his riches and grasped them tightly, only to have them slip through his fingers piece by piece. He had wanted too much at the same time, and he had lost everything in the process.

The fire is gone, the ashes cold, his heart a chunk of ice.  He closes the incinerator's door, the metallic clang sounding like a death knell.

Ka D'Argo still feels the need to vent his rage on something, but it's like a receding voice lost in the vast emptiness of his soul, and it grows fainter and fainter as he walks heavily away from the ashes of his future.  

Comments

[vinegar-dog.livejournal.com]

I love reading fics about D'Argo and even though this is a heartbreaking part of his story, I still enjoyed it immensely.

What I love the most about the way you write is that it is like poetry without the obscure annoying sibylline pretentiousness that often goes with it (can you tell I am not a fan of poetry?:DD) - your narrative flows so smoothly like a beautiful piece of music and at the same time creates great poetic images...I really am in awe of the way you write Nym...please please never stop!

...and I am off to give D'Argo a bit mental hug! ;)

[nymeria-55.livejournal.com]

I am definitely blushing to the roots of my hair!
Thank you so much!
"Like poetry"? Can you see I'm walking two feet off the ground? ;-)

**flower**


PS: hug D'Argo for me, will you? :-)

[diarmi.livejournal.com]

Really great moment of retrospection for D'Argo, something he'd definitely need (after some slapping :))).

[nymeria-55.livejournal.com]

LOL
He did need some head bashing now and then, didn't he?
But we often forget that despite his size he was little more than a boy, as Zhaan so wisely remarked...

Thank you for stopping by! :-)

[nebari-rebel.livejournal.com]

I love this so much! It's so rare I see a story about D'Argo & Chiana, and this is so well written and insightful (as usual!) it's just pure pleasure to read. Which I've done twice. I especially like that he is more aware of his own faults and mistakes than he can admit to the others - or even to himself, really - which makes me feel so much more sympathy for him. He *is* young, as you (and Zhaan ;) point out, but that's easy to forget, with the way the others treat him and the way he presents himself to the world.

Thank you for writing and sharing it!

[nymeria-55.livejournal.com]

The inspiration for this story came from one of our discussions about Farscape, the one where you said you would love to read some Chi & D. from a different perspective. The seed was planted and... it grew into this: I'm so happy that you liked it, and that it sounded right to your "ears".

You should also take credit for D's reflection on the similarities between Chi and Lo'Lann: in that same discussion, you said that she was, after all, a rebel - and that led me to thinking along these lines.

Thank you for your lovely feedback! *flower*

[dangermousie.livejournal.com]

I was linked to this and so glad I was...As someone else said above, it does read like poetry - the images are so vivid but also powerful and in character and just - pardon my incoherence - guuuuuuh.

[nymeria-55.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

I see no incoherence, only wonderful (#blush#) praise...
Thanks! *flower*