Starved For Attention
(First posted January 12, 2002)
Rating:  PG-13
Disclaimer: They aren’t mine, I won’t profit from this, and I’ll give them all back the way I found them.  Well ...
except maybe for Furlow.  
Time Frame/Spoilers:  No spoilers this time.  Set some time after Fractures.  

Note to the reader:  This was posted in January 2002 in response to a “Kill Furlow” challenge from
Aeryncrichton.  I think the title of the challenge pretty much explains it.  Please pay attention to who comes up
with the idea in this story … a number of people mistakenly thought it was John.  This was written during the
four month hiatus between the airing of ‘Fracture’ and the final four episodes of Season 3.  

*  *  *  *  *

Crichton limped slowly through Moya’s corridors, taking his time, not rushing his first expedition out of the
infirmary.  The mission against Scorpius’ Command Carrier had been completed almost twelve solar days
earlier, and after Aeryn and D’Argo had dragged his bleeding and nearly lifeless body from the burning carcass
of that huge ship, he had spent the first four days hanging on the thin edge between life and death.  Only two
things had dragged him back from that dark place he had gone -- Aeryn and Jool.  

He had been told that Jool had taken to sleeping in the maintenance bay those first few bad days, refusing to
let the life slip away.  And Aeryn had not left his side for more than the few microts her physical needs
demanded, not until he had finally opened his eyes, and said, “Hey, baby.  What’s goin’ on?”  Her tears and
laughter had flowed in equal amounts.  

John slowly negotiated the ramps between tiers, climbing until he reached the level where he had been told
their prisoner was being held.  He slowed even more as he approached the cell, noting the indicator which
showed that the doors were securely locked.  He finally stepped in front of the bars and looked at the woman
imprisoned within.  

“Furlow.”  She looked up at the sound of his voice.  Her rotund form had been pared down into leanness, her
pudgy face now had deep hollows and dark rings showed beneath her eyes.  He couldn’t tell how thin she was
inside her still voluminous overalls, but the cloth hung in sacks and bags around her.    

“Johnny boy!  Glad to see you made it!  I didn’t think you were going to make it off Dam-Ba-Da, and I hear you
almost didn’t make it off the Command Carrier.”  

“I didn’t make it off Dam-Ba-Da.”  He watched the puzzlement grow on her face, but refused to explain his
obscure comment.  He found the rage building within him again.  Perhaps he had been spending too much time
around D’Argo, but he was filled with an overwhelming desire to go get Wynona and just kill this foul excuse for
a being.  She had set in motion the series of events which led to an excruciating death for his twinned other-
self, and he finally found acceptance of that other John imbedded in his hatred for this woman.  

“John, what are you doing here?  You shouldn’t have come all the way up here so soon.”  Aeryn set a tray of
food down on the floor outside the cell, and came to stand next to him.  He draped an arm over her sturdy
shoulders and leaned on her a bit.  His left leg ached, the surgically repaired bones only just ready to take his
weight.  

“I just had to come up and see for myself.  To make sure.”  

“And are you sure now?”  

“Yes.  This is the right way to take care of this.  You were right all along about this.”  He turned, and together,
their bodies merged as one, they walked away.  Just before they turned the corner in the corridor, he looked
back.  

Twelve days of food.  Trays and trays of food sat on the floor outside the cell … just out of Furlow’s reach.  


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