A long time into the future lets say.
and family have gathered for a Funeral.
Notice: The Jim Henson Company, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network
Australia and the Sci-Fi Channel own Farscape. They own all rights
to characters mentioned within this story. I made some or most
up, but if they want to have them too, who am I to complain.
by one's and two's. All of them not believing why they were there,
it was not possible. He had cheated death so many times, that
they thought he was invincible, immortal, that he was beyond death.
He was beginning to believe it himself, until the illness came.
His dislike of doctors had never diminished over the cycles. It
was with great prodding and fighting that his mate had him see
the local "Witch Doctor" as he called him. By
then it was too late for him, the illness had taken its toll.
All they could do was make him comfortable and ease the pain.
It was nearly
a quarter of a cycle later that he finally was at peace. A lifetime
spent in many places, doing many things, making many friends and
enemies as well. It was uncertain if representatives of the latter
would attend the ceremony, but it was sure that his friends would
be out in force, to honour a man that been a main part of their
life for many cycles. He was at times their leader, their savoir
but always their friend. They all took his death hard.
His mate was
taking it in stride; she had never left his side during the illness.
She watched him go from the strong independent man that she fell
in love with, to a weaken man who she had to feed at the end.
She had support, she had their family and friends, but only those
truly close to her could really understand her loss. Those who
had shared the early days when he first came to this place, before
the war, before the formation of the alliance. All that was legendary,
as was this man, one that many endeavoured to be like.
was where he wanted, in space, aboard the ship that was their
home for so many cycles. The only place they truly felt safe and
at home. The main cargo bay was where this hero was to lie in
state, those who came able to say a few parting words, to the
man some loved, some hated, but all admired. They were grim and
solemn as they filed passed the coffin. Many reduced to tears
as the said their goodbyes. It was not surprising that even the
most feared warriors had shed tears at the news of his death.
They came by the hundreds to honour this man.
for the select few that had known him the best was to be elsewhere,
a more private spot, and his favourite spot on the ship. They
gathered on the terrace, their numbers few. He wanted it that
way; he was not one for speeches, for pomp and ceremony. He always
said he was a simple man and that it only took simple pleasures
to make him happy. His mate, his family and his friends were what
mattered. There were kind words spoken of him. All spoke of his
love and devotion to his mate and his family and friends. How
he was always there for them whether they thought they need it
or not. After everyone had spoken his body was committed to the
stars that he loved so much.
It was the
first time that she cried. She had not cried at his death, she
said she had before. Only a few knew what she meant, most thought
she just cried on her own terms. It would not be the last time
she cried. It was the second time she lost the man she loved.
She would often cry herself to sleep. I knew she was strong, she
taught me to be strong. He had taught us all how to feel, how
to live life to the fullest. She kept the strong fašade during
the day, but at night she was lost with out him. She would survive;
it would take time as he always said she did. Her world crumbled
a little the day he died; we would be there to help her rebuild
it. The healing stared the day we returned John Crichton to the
stars from where he came. The day we buried my father.