Disclaimer: And now, as an adept of the obvious: Farscape is owned by the grand high Mucky Mucks and the Jim Henson Company, I'm just mangling the characters a bit :) I'm making no money off this. No copyright infringement is intended. Any similarity to any other story is coincidence.(and there is similarity to "Long December")

Title: The Harvest
Genre: Farscape ficlit; Chiana character piece; spiritual/melodrama
Rating: PG for Farscape swears.
Timeline: Two years after the Peacekeeper Wars
Summary: Chiana is on Hyneria with a small farm that she's built. She's still not really over D'Argo's death, but someone has just arrived to help her heal.
Author's Notes: Story breaks are indicated by boldface and an ellipsis. Dreams are indicated by purple text.

Harvesting the Hatha
Dreams
Sleepless



“You shouldn’t be here Ka D’Argo,” Yael protested.

D’Argo said nothing but Crichton spoke as he came around the corner, “You have to try and remember that Big D is just as stubborn as my wife, and almost as determined.”

“Ouch!” John smiled and rubbed his shoulder lightly where Aeryn had gently punched him as she came to stand with the others, little D’Argo’s small hand in her own as he toddled with her.

“Have you told Chiana about D’Argo yet?” Aeryn asked quietly.

“Not yet, it’s too soon,” he replied turning to D’Argo. “You have to understand, it’s been just as long for her as for you Ka D’Argo, but she hasn’t been in a cryo-chamber.”

D’Argo nodded quietly, then spoke, his voice deeper than it had once been, “Help her, Yael. Whatever it takes.”

Yael nodded.

“I still don’t understand why D’Argo can’t just go to Chiana,” Rygel said as he rounded the corner in his throne sled. “Get this over with,” he continued pompously in his own concerned way.

Before the Delvian priest could answer, Aeryn and John spoke simultaneously, “Sometimes it takes a little time.” They smiled at each other tenderly while Rygel harrumphed and Yael nodded in agreement.

“Just a little bit longer, and I believe that she will be ready to begin the process of A’hadis. After that, she will begin to heal and be ready to be told of Ka D’Argo’s survival. She blames herself, for everything.”

D’Argo nodded. “We’ll be here. Tell me when she’s ready.”

Yael nodded and walked away to get the trigga crystals and make his way back to Chiana’s small farm…


Yael spread the last of the garnet colored crystals beneath the purple dharmajas trees. Chiana followed behind him, placing large banta baskets where they would catch the sapphire colored, apple- like fruits as they were released.

“You have some strange crops growing together. Most farmers would plant loitus flowers and neblas root,” Yael said, mentioning two of the better cash crops that Hyneria could produce.

For the first time that day, Chiana laughed lightly, “That’s just what Rygel said” She puffed herself up and imitated the small Dominar, “I’ve given you the best farm land on all of Hyneria and you waste it with fruits and vegetables? Why, just a half helop of this land would give you enough loitus flowers to make you rich. Chiana, you’ve gone fahrbot.”

The gray girl smiled.

“So why these crops then?” Yael asked.

Chiana’s expression went wistful. “D’Argo mentioned hatha root once as a good crop to grow in the Hynerian soil. And he said just one root could feed a small family because it was so good for you. He used to talk about how he would love growing hatha root for our family, even though we both knew that our family would just be us.”

“Jool used to talk about w’taeh fields, bronze and blue in the sun as the grains waved in the wind. She used to talk to me when the visions had taken my sight, and it was one of the images that would calm me.”

“Dharmajas fruit is also known as “lovers fruit,” because if you split the pips and the flesh between two people, it can enhance sensation between them. The effect is only temporary, but it’s fun while it lasts,” Chiana grinned wickedly, a glimpse of her old self. “John and Aeryn like this fruit a lot,” she giggled, once more giving Yael a glimpse of the girl she used to be.

Her smile turned quietly sad. “And chiagos fruit was Zhaan’s favorite.”

“A Memory Garden,” Yael said quietly. At Chiana’s questioning look, he explained, “On Delvia, there are many gardens known as Memory Gardens. They keep the wisdom and the joy of the past close to those that Seek. Many have been able to move up the levels of the Seek while meditating in a Memory Garden.”

He gestured around himself, “You have created your own Memory Garden. What is it that you seek Chiana?”

Chiana shrugged and moved to walk away. She stopped when Yael’s voice wrapped around her.

“I think that you’re trying to bury yourself in memory. You cling to your loss and guilt like a vine on the Mallorean tree, frightened that if you grow without the Mallorean tree, without D’Argo, you will have somehow betrayed his memory and sacrifice.”

Chiana turned back to face the Delvian, a closed expression on her face.

“Do you really think that by denying yourself the peace of healing, that you honor D’Argo? Do you really think that pain is what he would have wanted for you?”

Chiana’s expression turned sly and cunning, though no less closed off for all of that. She slunk and strutted her way over to where Yael stood. As if she were channeling the gray girl of her past, Chiana reached to stroke the Delvian’s face. “So are you going to help me with my pain?”
Chiana asked in a silky voice.

“Are you going to heal me, Yael?” She asked as she gyrated in a blatant manner against him.

Yael took the gray girl’s slender arms in his own hands and gently, but firmly, held her away from him so that he could look into her cat’s eyes with his own warm brown ones.

“Yes,” he replied simply, his kind eyes quite sincere.

Chiana stilled, surprised by the depth of concern and emotion that the Delvian’s eyes contained for her well-being. Almost as if it were against her will she gasped, “How?”

“By helping you to see truth, Chiana,” he replied simply…


She was drunk; very, very drunk. Empty raslak bottles littered the Terrace. She had rarely been in this place. Somehow, it had always been John and Aeryn’s place, theirs alone. Now she wanted to somehow break that.

“It’s not fair,” she cried out to no one.

“They’re not any better than us. They’re not more important than us. Frell, the stupid human doesn’t even have the frelling wormhole dren in his head anymore,” she hiccupped out.

“Unless he’s lying about that,” she ground out just as Crichton entered the Terrace.

“Hey, Pip. You okay?” John asked, his expression concerned.

Chiana rose unsteadily to her feet to face the human, her own expression hard and murderous.

“You okay?” John asked again, as he noticed all the empty and broken raslak bottles littering the ground. “You really shouldn’t be drinking here alone like this kiddo,” he said, the concern of an older brother in his voice.

Chiana tossed the empty bottle in her hand in the direction of the human’s head. Fortunately, she was too drunk to aim properly, and the bottle went very wide to crash on the floor behind him.

“Whoa, hey, let’s talk about this, Pip…”

“I’ll get drunk when and where I want,” she ground out. “And just because this is your spot with Aeryn, doesn’t mean someone else can’t be here.”

John held his hands up in a placating gesture.

“And just because you name your narl after him, doesn’t make it right,” she spat.

“Why the frell are you still alive and my D’Argo’s dead?”

The scene shifted and she was stabbing John again and again. His blood was flowing over the floor, reflecting starlight from above.

Aeryn entered the Terrace carrying little D’Argo and she was crying out in pain at seeing John murdered. Aeryn screamed…

Chiana burst up from the bed screaming, seeing herself kill John in her dream.

“Shh… shh…” a deep male voice whispered as strong blue arms cradled her.

“See truth; see truth, Chiana…”

“Why the frell are you still alive and my D’Argo’s dead?”

John stepped forward and wrapped Chiana in his arms, even though she beat at his chest in pain and frustration.

“Why, why, why?” she sobbed as John rocked her. “He’s dead…”

“I know, Pip. I know,” John whispered, continuing to rock her.

Chiana didn’t notice when Aeryn first entered the Terrace, but now the Sebacean woman was next to them, stroking Chiana’s short gray hair gently…

“See truth; see truth, Chiana,” Yael whispered in the gray shell of her ear…

Chiana held the little boy up high as one of his chubby pink hands tried to grab at the gray tendrils of her hair that blew in the warm Hynerian spring breezes. She laughed lightly and little D’Argo giggled with her.

In the rich dark soil of the field, John and Aeryn planted the tall purple saplings.

“Trees, it had to be trees,” John joked in a mock angry voice.

Aeryn smiled serenely as she planted yet another swaying sapling.

“In a couple of cycles there’ll be baskets of lovely dharmajas fruits,” Chiana called and watched as John and Aeryn exchanged a quiet and loving look. For a moment, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling a stab of jealous anger, but then little D’Argo giggled as he finally managed to capture a lock of her hair in his chubby pink fist.

She carefully released her hair from the small hand and cradled the baby in her arms. She looked at the newly planted fields. For a moment, she felt the weight of her new life settle heavily on her shoulders. But she accepted the weight and pushed her quiet despair away. She was determined to make D’Argo’s dream come true. She needed to make it come true…

“Enough for now,” the deep voice of Yael whispered in Chiana’s ear.

Gently, he lowered her back to rest on the thick pillows and blankets and left her to sleep out the rest of the night peacefully…