Title: Back to the Uncharted Territories
Author: Paradox761
Email: Paradox761@mail.com
Website: members.tripod.com/~Paradox761
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy; SFC, Jim Henson Productions, and Rockne S. O’Bannon own Farscape; and Universal Pictures owns Back to the Future. No copyright infringement is intended, so please don’t sue. I don’t have any money anyway.
Summary: Sequel to “A Sympathetic Ear”, John Crichton finally makes it home only to discover that the life he left behind is no longer there. His father, DK, and Xander Harris are all dead. Then he meets an extraordinary man in a bar, a time traveler, with an extraordinary proposition. Will John risk it all to go back in time to save his father’s life? And what happens when the consequences are much worse than he ever could have imagined?
Author’s note: Takes place directly after the third season of Farscape, after that it’s an AU. Also, for the sake of this story, Farscape takes place in the near future (2017), and some of the modifications made to the DeLorean in the second movie, namely Mr. Fusion, came from further into the future then when the movie took place (2015). Also, some dialogue has been lifted directly from the Buffy episode “Grave”, no plagiarism intended.
Dedication: To Jordan and Jessica, my angels. May they rest in peace.
Special thanks to A. Grandt, greywizard, Wayne, Rob Clark, Danielle, Goblin, Calen, DaBear, Obi, Gareth, Troy, David, and Lafe for the feedback and support.
(Farscape/BtVS/BttF, Xander/Chiana, John/Aeryn)
Rated R for language and violence
Guest Cast:
Guy Pearce as Dr. Julian Martin Brown, PhD.
James Remar as Lakas

(1/6)

John was sitting in a bar in LA called The Haunt, drowning his sorrows in a beer and thinking about his life. He had spent three years aboard Moya. Three years in a strange, hostile place where his life was in danger almost every day. He had made more enemies than friends in the Uncharted Territories, but the friends he had made had been well worth it. There were days when all he thought about was getting home to Earth. And then those days came fewer and fewer as that possibility became more and more remote. And then suddenly the answer was dropped in his lap. The wormhole technology that the Ancients had placed in his brain was leaking out. Scorpius had nearly gotten a hold of it. And for a while there, John was tempted to let him have it. If the Scarrens are half as dangerous as Scorpius says, and they develop wormhole technology, it would be disastrous on a galactic scale. But the Scarrens were back at square one now, and if Scorpy and his scientists couldn’t figure out wormholes than what were the chances that they could. One evil at a time, that’s all he could do. But none of that was his concern anymore, at least it shouldn’t have been. That was all sixty cycles away. A lifetime away.

He truly was a dog with two bones. The old woman told him to make his choice, and worry about the consequences later. He chose the woman he loved, he chose Aeryn. But things were never that easy for Aeryn and him. They loved each other. The time it had taken to admit that to themselves, and then the time it had taken to admit it to each other. Then add the time Aeryn spent aboard Talyn, with the other John. If he had to guess, he would say that she had been happy there. But his death brought any progress that had been made to a screeching halt. They loved each other, but they couldn’t be together. It hurt Aeryn too much. But she was pregnant, that made things different. He was going to find her, and make her see that no matter how hard it would be they would be there for each other. He wouldn’t give into her this time, for the sake of the baby she carried. The baby that in a way was his, and in a way wasn’t. He already had a daughter whose life he would never be a part off, he didn’t want that to ever happen again. But it was too late. Aeryn was gone. D’Argo was gone. Moya had disappeared into a wormhole that lead lord knows where. And his module was out of fuel. He had had no choice but to create a wormhole to Earth, he wouldn’t have been able to survive out there very long. He just had to cross his fingers that the Peace Keepers were too busy picking up the pieces of their broken carrier to notice. It had been weeks, and no sign of Scorpius and his goons. He was back on Earth now, he was home.

He was supposed to be worrying about normal things now, human things. He was supposed to be reclaiming the life that had been torn from him three years ago when that wormhole shot him halfway across the galaxy. But his worst nightmares had been realized. That life was no longer here. It had left him behind. All the people he ever cared about were dead. His father and DK were dead, killed when Farscape 2 malfunctioned and plummeted to the Earth. They were trying to recreate Farscape 1’s flight, to figure out what happened to John. So not only were they dead, but it was indirectly John’s fault. He knew that he shouldn’t blame himself, but he couldn’t help it. He tried to look up the rest of his family, his friends. But they were nowhere to be found. It made sense that IASA would relocate them after his disappearance, to keep word of his mission from leaking to the press. But telling the IASA that he was back was the last thing John wanted to do. He’d end up in a cell, with scientists studying him for the rest of his life. Plus they’d take his module apart piece by piece, to study the modifications he had made to it with alien technology. The last thing John wanted to do was let superior technology fall into inferior hands. He knew first hand what the ramifications of such a thing could be.

So where did that leave him? Halfway around the world in California, looking for the only other person on this planet that he can trust with his secret. Because he already knew it. But a quick check at the Hall of Records showed that Xander Harris was dead, and his friends nowhere to be found. He found his obituary in an old newspaper. It said that he had been the victim of a wild animal attack. Of course John knew the truth. Xander was a fighter, and he went down swinging. A hero’s death, of that John had no doubt. He deserved at least that.

John heard the door to the bar open, but he didn’t see the man who entered. What he saw were the rather odd looks on the faces of the other patrons in the mirror behind the bar. The man took a seat at the bar, a few stools over from John. He stole a glance and saw what had drawn the unusual stares. The man was wearing a dark colored suit that looked to be from sometime in the late nineteenth century, complete with waistcoat and gold pocket watch. It was LA after all, John thought. He was probably shooting a movie or something. The other customers in the bar must have reached a similar conclusion because when he looked back in the mirror he saw them all returned to their conversations, and their drinks. The man glanced back at John and gave him a small nod in greeting. John returned it and turned back to his beer, only half listening as the bartender walked up to his newest customer, polishing a glass.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you?”

The man looked up at the bartender, slightly puzzled. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

“Yeah, when you were in here last week,” the bartender said. The man still didn’t seem to remember. “You asked me to hold an envelope for you. You said that you’d be in today to pick it up again, remember?”

As soon as the bartender said the word envelope, a look of realization crossed the man’s face. “Yes, of course. Do you have the envelope?”

“Got it right here,” the bartender answered. He turned around to where the cash register sat. Hitting a few buttons, the drawer popped open. He lifted the cash tray out and pulled a white envelope out from underneath. Turning back he handed the envelope back to the man. “I kept it safe, like you asked.”

“Thank you very much…ah…”

“Brian.”

“Right, Brian. Thank you Brian, I appreciate your help.”

Brian nodded and returned to washing glasses. The man looked down at the front of the envelope. Written in a script that was very familiar to him, it read ‘From JMB, To JMB’. The man tapped the end of the envelope on the bar, letting the piece of paper within fall to one side. The he ripped off the opposite end and blew inside, enlarging the opening enough for his finger to fit inside and grip the paper. Pulling the paper out and unfolding it, he began to read.

After reading for a few seconds, the look on his face changed to surprise. He turned and looked at John, who was now writing on his hand with a marker, and then back to the letter. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said to himself quietly. He read on for another moment or so before reaching the end of the letter. “PS,” he read aloud to himself. “I’m not kidding.” He shook his head. “Cute Jules, real cute,” he muttered to himself.

He moved over to the next stool closer to John, looking closer at the man. He was dressed in black leather pants and coat, with a black tee shirt underneath. A pair of black gloves sat on the bar next to him. His hair was neatly trimmed, his face cleanly shaven. He looked down at his hand, expecting to see a phone number of a grocery list. But what he saw were strange symbols that he didn’t recognize, in what looked like equations of some kind. This was no ordinary barfly killing brain cells, he realized. This man was troubled, distraught. The look on his face was on of pain, and confusion. “You look troubled, my friend.”

John looked up from his hand at the man whom he hadn’t realized had moved. “You could say that,” he answered simply.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like a typical patron of this establishment. You look…out of place.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” John said, taking another sip from his beer. “You shooting a movie or something?”

“Or something,” the man answered. He extended his hand, “Dr. Julian Brown. My friends call me Jules.”

John shook the man’s hand. “John Crichton.”

Jules looked down at John’s hand as he shook it. “Nice to meet you John. You know, I’m sure the bartender could get you some paper to write on if you asked.” John took his hand back quickly. “Those look like pretty intricate equations, you wouldn’t want to sweat them off.”

That got John’s attention. “How did you know that they were equations?”

“Well, I don’t recognize all of the symbols, but I know a physics equation when I see one. May I?” he asked, motioned toward John’s hand. John seemed to think about it for a second before he held it out. Jules took it and looked it over, turning John’s hand as he followed the writing around the base of his thumb. “It looks like an energy vortex of some kind, perhaps an Einstein-Rosen bridge?”

“Not exactly,” John said. “But you’re close. What exactly are you a doctor of anyway?”

“Oh, this and that,” Jules answered cryptically. “Something tells me that you have a story to go along with those equations,” he said, changing the subject. “I wouldn’t mind lending you an ear.”

John turned back to his beer. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, buddy.”

“You might be surprised what I’d believe in,” Jules answered. “How many people in this bar would recognize those equations as anything other than doodles?”

“My story gets a lot weirder than that, trust me.”

“That’s okay, weird doesn’t bother me. Come on, it might help to get it off your chest. You look like you’re wrestling with something important. I promise, if I don’t believe you, I’ll pretend I do to humor you,” Jules said with a slight smile. John seemed to be considering it. “What have you got to lose?”

What did he have to lose? What did he care if some stranger in a bar thought he was nuts? Most of his best friends thought he was nuts.

“Okay,” John said. “I’ve been away from home for a long time, three years to be exact. Three years in a very strange and hostile place. When I first got there all I could think about was finding a way to get back home. Getting back to my friends, and my father, the only family that I had left. But I met people there, people who became very important to me. They became my family.”

“What about the woman?” Jules asked. John looked at him, surprised. “Come on, there’s always a woman. Friends are great, but something tells me that that’s not the real reason you’re sitting here staring into your beer.” The look on John’s face told Jules that he was right. “What’s her name?”

“Aeryn,” John answered, knowing that Jules would assume that he had said ‘Erin’. “Her name is Aeryn. Don’t misunderstand, this was no fairy tale romance. When we first met I was her enemy. She didn’t know me, she didn’t trust me, and she sure as hell didn’t like me. But we were forced together for survival. Forced to trust each other, to rely on each other. Things between us were strained, always were. Probably always would have been, that’s just the way she was. Even after…” he trailed off. “Even after she finally admitted that she loved me. She had been raised to believe that feelings like love and compassion were weaknesses. I think somewhere along the way she realized that they weren’t, but that didn’t make admitting them any easier. The fact that there was almost always someone trying to kill us didn’t simplify things either. Tragedy after tragedy, death after death. It became too much, and she couldn’t let herself get hurt anymore.”

“She left you,” Jules surmised.

“In a manner of speaking. The threat that had held us all together was gone, and we were all going our separate ways. And on top of that, after three years, I finally found a way home. But it was too dangerous. I was a dog with two bones, and I was going to lose them both.”

“This strange and hostile place of yours,” Jules interrupted. “I take it we’re not talking about some foreign war zone. Was it not of this planet? Not of this dimension? Not of this time?”

John tried to hide the surprise on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now Mr. Crichton, no need to hide the truth from me. I’m not going to commit you to the funny farm. Those equations on your hand, I’m guessing that whatever kind of gateway they produce is this way home that you speak of. So is it spatial, temporal or inter-dimensional?”

John, not knowing what else to say, told the truth. “Spatial.” Jules didn’t flinch. “They’re wormhole equations, capable of producing a vortex that can carry you halfway across the galaxy in a matter of minutes.” Still, Jules didn’t seem at all phased by this information.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Tell you in the…I just told you that I’ve spent that last three years among aliens in a distant part of space, and you’re not even the least but surprised?”

“I’ve studied science in one form or another all my life Mr. Crichton. I know of the practicality of certain theoretical studies. Suffice it to say that I have no problem believing your story, but I have question as to whether or not you will believe mine. So why don’t we continue with yours and save mine for later.”

John didn’t know what to think. This guy legitimately believed him. Did that make him crazy, even if what John was telling him was true? He couldn’t help but remember the last time someone had believed him so readily, only to trump him with an even more fantastic story of vampires and demons being real. Turns out he was right. John could at least give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

“I didn’t want to open a wormhole home because I was afraid of being followed. My friends and I sacrificed a great deal to make sure that wormhole technology didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“I was in my module, outside of Moya, our ship. Running through some of my equations. Most of my friends, including Aeryn, had already left. I was getting ready to board Moya again, to go look for Aeryn, when a wormhole suddenly opened and drew Moya inside. It closed, and suddenly I was alone. Almost out of fuel, and out of communications range with any of my friends. I had no choice but to open a wormhole here, it was the only chance I had. I had just enough fuel left to land my module before I crashed.”

“You were an astronaut?” Jules asked. John nodded. “How did you end up so far away in the first place?”

“Mine was an experimental ship. I was performing a slingshot maneuver around the sun, when I accidentally created a wormhole and my ship was sucked into it. That’s when I met up with the others. They were escaped prisoners, running from a tyrannical military group called Peace Keepers.”

“Peace Keepers? I’ve never heard of them,” Jules muttered to himself. “Tell me, if you were running through some of your equations before the wormhole that took your friends opened, isn’t it possible that the wormhole led here, to Earth?”

“I thought of that, but when I came through I didn’t see a trace of Moya.”

“But you were running low on fuel, rushing to land. It’s possible it was out of your sensor range, on the other side of the planet perhaps.”

“I supposed that could be. It doesn’t matter anyway, I have no way of reaching them. My module is out of fuel.”

“Why not contact the IASA? I’m sure they could help you.”

“Yeah, help me into a cell while they rip my ship apart and study all the modifications I made to it.”

“With alien technology,” Jules finished. “I see. That would be a problem.”

“I haven’t even told you the best part yet. You see, while I was in the Uncharted Territories looking for a way home, my father was here, trying to figure out what happened to me. He and a friend of mine launched another mission to try and recreate my experiment, but the module suffered a malfunction and crashed to Earth, killing them both. I came to LA looking for another friend of mine, but he’s dead too.

“I’ve spent the last three years looking for a way home, not knowing what I had when I had it. And by the time I figure it out, it’s gone. I’m finally given a way home, but I can’t use it. But them I’m forced to use it, or else I’m dead. Then when I get here, I find that there’s nothing here for me anymore. I don’t belong here. Hell, maybe I never did, I don’t know. All I know is that everyone I’ve ever cared about is gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He paused. “For the first time in a long time, there’s no one to fight.”

Jules just shook his head sadly as John drained the rest of his beer. “I see now why you’re here. Drowning that many sorrows takes time.” John didn’t respond, he just looked down sadly at his empty glass. Somehow saying it all out loud just made it all the more real. “Brian, another beer for my friend,” Jules said as the bartender passed by. “Tell me, John. Your friends, what were they like?”




Next Chapter