GENRE: Comedy (and sort of an AU, I guess...)This is my special pressie to everybody who hangs out at sci-fi.com, especially the Manning-kins.

DISCLAIMER: I REALLY don't own these guys. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is entirely intentional, but no Co-Executive Producers or devastatingly handsome ((c) CB) male leads were harmed in the making of this fic, I promise.

OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. This just popped into my head today after all this discussion of Manning and his twisted, evil mind. This will probably be the daftest pile of nonsense you ever read, and I cannot apologise enough - it kind of wrote itself.

Froon, BB, what can I say: you give us Farscape and this is how I repay you...just remember I love you really.

SPOILERS: Lots...Season one, and up to Mind the Baby ... plus a few hints for WGFA;)

FEEDBACK: Hey, why the frell not...uktechgirl@scape-goat.com

The setting: White Bay Power Station, Sydney, Australia. Apparently located in some weird place called 'RL'...

Two men are strolling up a long concrete driveway in the Australian sun. One, a blonde man with a moustache, wears a startlingly bright Hawaiian shirt (sorry, sorry - that's an AUSTRALIAN MAMBO SHIRT, my mistake). The other is wearing a black T-shirt with some kind of logo on the chest. On his face is a HORRIBLE GOATEE BEARD WHICH REALLY SHOULD NOT BE THERE. As they draw closer, we see the guy in the Mambo shirt shaking his head disbelievingly while prodding the goateed man's bicep.

'All down to surfing, you say?' says Froon, his eyebrow raised.

'Yeah,' says Ben, casually, not quite meeting Froon's eye.

'Uh huh,' says Froon.

Ben clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable.

'So, anyway,' says Froon, deciding to let Ben off the hook for a second or two, 'what are we doing out here? Filming finished ages ago.'

'Oh, some idea of Kemper's,' says Ben with a big smile. 'Something about Season 3 going in a new direction.'

'He didn't say anything to me about it,' says Froon doubtfully.

'Well, it was my idea, actually,' says Ben smugly, as they arrive outside the studio door.

'Your idea?' says Froon, a little huffily. 'Well, I don't know if...'

'My, what on earth is that strange thing behind you?' Ben yells, pointing suddenly to something behind Froon with a look of panic on his face.

Froon whirls round, only to be thumped on the back of the head. He falls unconscious to the floor. Ben stands over him, shaking his head and tutting.

'A sci-fi writer, and he falls for that,' he says to himself, sadly.

'Froony! Oh, FROOOOOOOOOONYYYYYYYYY!'

Froon groggily opens his eyes, to find himself in a familiar-looking dark room. Blinking to adjust to the dim light, he can make out a green circle before him; as the rest of the room comes into focus, he gulps, and struggles, but the restraints on his hands and feet are secure.

'Er...Ben?' he says, turning his head to look around him.

Ben appears next to him, a slightly alarming grin on his face.

'Hello, good morning, and welcome. Let me introduce you: Froon, the Aurora Chair; Aurora Chair, Froon. Oh, wait a second - you two already know each other?'

Ben steps back, slapping himself on the forehead.

'Of course, you two already know each other very well, don't you, Froony?'

'Er...Ben,' says Froon again, starting to look worried.

'Not well enough, though,' says Ben, walking to the other side of the room. 'I've been thinking for some time now that this fine chair here and its creator ought to get a little more...intimate. Up close and personal, y'know?'

'Ben,' says Froon, louder this time. 'It...er...it isn't real, Ben. You do know that, right?'

Ben pulls out the Patented Browder Gob Open Eyebrows Raised Incredulous Look. 'Not real? You want to know how many days I've spent in that thing?'

'Ben,' says Froon, adopting a gentle tone of voice, 'that was just pretend. You know, acting? That thing you do for a living?'

Froon looks round the room for support.

'Look, see, up there? Where the ceiling should be, there's a lighting rig. And this room only has three walls, Ben.'

'Not real, huh?' says Ben, stepping behind the console on the other side of the room. 'We'll just see about that, shall we?'

He reaches forward and grabs a big lever, pauses for dramatic effect, and pulls it towards him carefully. Nothing happens.

Ben frowns, biting his lower lip.

'I did tell you,' says Froon, feeling slightly embarrassed for Ben.

'Oh, hang on,' says Ben, dashing forward and seizing a power cable. 'Forgot to plug in.'

He slots the plug into a socket under the chair, and the green circle facing Froon flickers and lights up.

'There ya go,' says Ben happily, returning to the console and pulling on the lever again.

With a whine, the chair begins to slowly spin around, and a big padded headrest slaps down on Froon, making him jump lightly. Much to Froon's astonishment, the green circle suddenly lights up with a jumble of images which all look vaguely familiar.

Seeing Froon's face, Ben leans over the console to watch, catching sight of the images whenever the revolving screen comes into his eyeline. After about a minute, he slides the lever back, and the chair slowly comes to a halt.

Ben hops onto the podium and leans in close to Froon, a big frown on his face. Froon, meanwhile, just looks a bit surprised.

'Why weren't you screaming?' says Ben.

'Well...it didn't hurt, really,' says Froon, a bit unnerved.

'What do you mean, it didn't hurt?' Ben demands. 'What did it feel like?'

'Umm...sort of...tingly,' says Froon.

'TINGLY?'

'Yeah, like being tickled. Quite nice, actually.'

Ben jumps off the podium and walks up and down a bit, looking cross.

Froon shifts about in the chair, resting his head against the warm, padded headrest.

'This actually IS a really comfy chair,' he says, sounding quite surprised.

'Shut up!' shouts Ben, skulking behind him.

Froon tries looking over his shoulder at him, realising that Ben is upset.

'Well, maybe not that comfy,' he says, reassuringly. 'And I'm sure that...tingly sensation would get...you know...less nice after a bit.'

'Yeah,' says Ben, nodding vigorously.

'And with Wayne hanging over your shoulder...you know...it could get...kind of intense.'

'Intense, yeah,' says Ben, still nodding.

'You might get motion sickness with all that spinning round, too.'

'Ooh, yeah,' says Ben.

'So it's nothing to be embarrassed about,' says Froon.

'Hey, who's embarrassed?' says Ben quickly, appearing over his shoulder.

'No-one, no-one,' says Froon rapidly, squirming slightly in the chair. 'Hey, comfy as this is, could you let me out now?'

'Oh, no,' says Ben, the spark coming back into his eyes and a big smile spreading across his face. 'After what you've put me through, I haven't even started yet.'

'Oh come on, Ben,' says Froon, smiling, but nervously. 'I mean, all this stuff is Rockne's idea really, not mine. And the chair has its precursors, you know - there's something very similar in Flash Gordon, not to mention...'

'Not just talking about the chair, Froon,' says Ben, grinning like a maniac. 'I mean, come on, they had to invent a society to try to keep me safe from you wackos.'

He reaches down to point to the SACC logo on his T-shirt, the words 'protected by' emblazoned above.

'They're not doing a very good job, are they?' says Froon.

'No, they're not!' says Ben, crossly, stepping off the podium and going back to the console. 'And that's all down to you making sure I get beat up all the time.'

'Hey, come on, Ben, the Scapers love it really. That whole angst thing, you know. Heroic struggle against adversity.'

Ben looks doubtful.

'Apparently, you look kind of cute when you're down,' says Froon.

Ben smiles for a bit, then checks himself. 'I don't care,' he yells, reaching for the controls.

As he flips the lever, Froon feels the chair begin to spin again, and more images begin to appear on the screen, several of which appear to be of a roomful of deranged Scapers engaged in a variety of alarming pursuits. Some are splashing about in a pool; others dance insanely to the jukebox, trying not to fall over the scattered empty bottles on the floor; there are large winged creatures dangling from the rafters. The image flickers to reveal a tray in the centre of the room marked Special Brownies; both Ben and Froon turn pale at the sight of the Scapers diving in hungrily.

Ben tries fiddling with the controls.

'Where's Peacekeeper Barbie when you need her?' he says. 'Couldn't you have just used a mouse, Froon, I hate these damn trackball things.'

'Ben, you can't even handle a keyboard,' says Froon unhappily, starting to realise that the whole motion sickness comment might well be true.

'Wait, got it,' says Ben.

The screen flickers, and then fills with the image of Ben, and Claudia, having an argument. 'We could try to negotiate...' Ben is saying, but is cut off by Claudia smacking him in the face.

'I give you: Exhibit A!' says Ben, freezing the shot. 'Now: was that really necessary?'

'She didn't hit you that hard, Ben,' says Froon.

'You ever been hit by Claudia, Froon?'

He shakes his head, as the chair begins to spin again. The image changes to another of Ben and Claudia arguing; this time she's wearing heavy armour and a gauntlet on her arm, and is smacking him around again.

'Hey, come on, Ben, right after that she gets beaten up by Anth, and then Anth gets shot by the Tavloids. And Rygel DIES! You got off easy.'

'Aha!' says Ben, gleefully. 'I think you'll find...'

He fiddles with the trackball, and Rygel appears on screen; his corpse is being revitalised by Jotheb.

'See! You killed him - and then you brought him back to life! How stupid is that?'

'I was still the first one to kill him,' says Froon, sulkily.

'Yeah, but come on, Froon, you just weren't trying hard enough. I mean, look at this.' He spins the trackball, and the image of a dissected Rygel on an operating table appears. 'Now that's more like it.'

'Hey, no fair!' says Froon, as the chair slows to a halt. 'Monj brought him back to life too! And you didn't get an easy ride in that ep anyway - tons of head-messing, and needles too!'

'Yeah,' says Ben, faltering for a moment. 'But I did get to go to the beach!'

'Yeah - where you got shot, Ben,' Froon points out. 'Come on, Monj is no angel either.'

'He let me eat magic mushrooms,' Ben fires back, smiling happily at the memory.

'And crackers, Ben, and crackers,' Froon reminds.

'Hey, I kind of liked those crackers,' says Ben.

'He put puke on your face, Ben.'

'C'mon, it wasn't really puke.'

'Yuh huh. Was too. Saw Lani hawking it up right before you arrived.'

'It was Lani's puke?'

'Lani's puke, Ben. And Monj put you in the chair too, don't forget.'

'No, Froon, you put me in the chair, Monj got me out of it.'

'Hey, now you're being picky.'

There is silence for a moment, as Ben thinks, and then pulls the lever again. The screen fills with the image of Ben scrabbling along the floor wearing the stupid yellow flightsuit, while some weird spiny thing revolves in the middle of the room. Lani appears, and somehow manages to dislocate Ben's shoulder, despite the fact that the chain he swings at him clearly gets caught around his ankle...

'There,' says Ben, proudly. 'You can't get out of that one. When Nan wrote an ep with a Lethal Weapon reference, I got a snog out of it; with you, I have to have my arm half ripped off.'

'Ben, you had just called Lani 'Captain Balalala Crais'. He was entitled to be ticked off.'

Ben frowns, and sends the chair into rewind; when the scene replays, he blushes slightly. 'Hey, that's not my fault, you could have redubbed it,' he says, sulkily.

'Yeah, I know,' says Froon, 'But we thought it was funny.'

'Is that really why, Froon?'

'Umm...err...maybe.'

Ben hums to himself for a moment. 'Well, either way, Maldis wasn't exactly nice to hang out with. He tried to kill me with a big fuzzy red special effect.'

'Ben,' says Froon, starting to sound a little exasperated. 'You spent most of that ep flat on your back pretending to be dead, while the rest of us actually had to do some work.'

'Yeah, but...' says Ben, setting the chair spinning again to reveal himself, still wearing the horrible yellow flightsuit, sitting up suddenly and grabbing Rygel to (ulp) give him a big kiss. 'I mean, really, Froon.'

'OK, OK,' says Froon, catching a glimpse of Ben as the chair revolves and feeling slightly guilty. 'Maybe making you kiss Rygel was a bridge too far. But I've been nice to you too, Ben. What about Mind The Baby?'

Ben ponders it for a moment, trying to remember if any major injuries were sustained during filming.

'There was that fantastic bit of dialogue about Crais not getting the keys to Moya's baby...' Froon murmurs, trying to jog his memory.

'Yeah, I guess that was a pretty cool scene,' says Ben, thinking back fondly.

'And scissors, paper, rock, that was funny. And the bit at the end...you know...the snuggling?'

Ben's eyes mist over for a moment, but then he looks stern.

'Hey, that's another thing, Froon. What about the shippiness?'

Froon looks worried. 'Well...' he says, his eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape route and finding none.

'Aha! Now I've got you!'

'No, no,' says Froon hurriedly. 'There is shippiness, its just...well...subtle.'

'Oh, subtle. I see. So when Claudia thumps me, that's subtle shippiness, huh?'

'No, Ben, that's UST.'

'Oh.'

'The subtle shippiness...that's the...umm...unspoken stuff.'

'What, like the beginning of Nerve?'

'That's the ticket, Ben.'

'There was room for a kiss there, Froon.'

'Maybe,' says Froon, cagily.

'And Mind The Baby. When she's going to leave. Definitely room for a kiss there, Froon.'

'Look, Kemper and Rockne didn't do one in Family Ties, why do I get all the flak for the 'not saying goodbye' stuff? And you can't blame me for doing UST, after the whole will-they-won't-they got blown halfway through season 1.' Froon is obviously starting to feel the effects of the chair, and sounds frankly grumpy by this point.

'Uh?' says Ben, looking confused.

'Err...you have seen the 'missing' 17 seconds, haven't you, Ben?'

Ben thinks.

'You were in them, Ben. You know: cute bed hair?'

'Ahhhhh,' says Ben, smiling. 'Yeah, I remember.'

Ben seems to wander off onto another train of thought for a moment; the big grin on his face suggests it is a pleasant one. After a bit, though, his smile disappears.

'Hang on,' he says. 'The seventeen seconds...that was Monj!'

Froon looks uncomfortable.

'And The Flax! That was Monj too!'

Froon swallows nervously, and then smiles as an idea pops into his head.

'The Flax, Ben? You mean, the ep where you DIE?'

Ben looks startled.

'Come on, Benny boy,' says Froon, starting to feel a bit more lively. 'OK, so I got you beaten up a bit early on. Yes, I did put you in the chair. And no, you have never snogged Aeryn in one of my episodes. But did I ever kill you?'

Ben stares, stepping back off the platform. 'No,' he says, shaking his head slowly.

'No, I never killed you, Ben,' says Froon, smiling. 'So why don't you let me go, and give Monj the treatment instead?'

'Monj,' says Ben, slowly, as if in a trance. 'Yeah. Sounds good.'

'You can cover him in puke too, Ben,' says Froon. 'Make him eat crackers.'

'Crackers,' says Ben, numbly. He reaches up and releases Froon's feet from the chair, but as he straightens up, he catches Froon's eye.

'I get the feeling there's something I'm missing,' Ben says, looking confused.

'Missing?' says Froon, innocently.

'Yeah...like there are memories of things which have happened to me which I don't recall...things which happened in the chair that I can't remember...'

Froon frowns, as Ben releases the arm restraints.

'What makes you think that, Ben?' says Froon, innocently.

'Well, it's a little difficult, Froon. The author of this fic is watching Farscape on the BBC, and therefore hasn't seen anything beyond Dream A Little Dream, but she may have caught some spoilers since then...'

Froon looks warily at Ben, realising that he may well be in extremely deep dren right now.

'Unfortunately, the spoilers haven't told this author very much, so she isn't sure exactly what happened.'

Froon breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

'So it would be impossible for me to respond to you, Froon, in the manner which I might after Won't Get Fooled Again,' says Ben.

Froon breathes the heaviest sigh of relief in history.

'Even though obviously you know what happened in that ep, since you acted in it,' prompts Froon, frowning.

'Errr...yeah,' says Ben, a bit confused by all this sci-fi timeline type-stuff. 'Obviously...although I seem to have forgotten it at the moment. Something about Scorpy?' he says, confused.

'Yes,' says Froon, his eyes lighting up slightly at the word. 'Scorpy. The Aurora Chair. Plenty of fun...'

He slips out of the chair, the restraints having been undone by Ben, and runs from the room, cackling.

'Eh?' says Ben, entirely bewildered. 'Wait...I remember now...must trap Monj...must make Monj pay...' He repeats the words like a robot, and then heads out of the studio, his limbs moving stiffly.

'MWUHAAHAAHAAHAAA!' says Froon, rubbing his hands together evilly as he scampers towards his puter of doom. 'Now, at last, my true nature can surface! Those Scapers are right - I am evil, soooo evil! Roll on Season 3! MWUHAHAHAHAHAAA!'

FIN

TITLE: The Browder Strikes Back Again: More Froonium Fic

SUMMARY: To quote John-as-Larraq: 'You don't WANT to know...'

NOTES: This was never meant to be a series, but, well, if you people will go on asking for a sequel...;) Besides which, I got to see WGFA and realised that da Froon got off mighty lightly last time...

As before, any similarity to co-executive evil geniuses or devastatingly handsome (still (c) CB) male leads is entirely intentional. But don't sue me, OK?

SPOILERS: Big fat ones for Won't Get Fooled Again. Please please please don't read this if you ain't seen WGFA yet, cos I would hate to think I spoilt it for anyone. Oh, and I suppose if you haven't read 'The Browder Strikes Back' this is going to be pretty much incomprehensible...

THANKS: To the gorgeous Sorlk-Lewis (and her good friend and mine, UPS) and the equally gorgeous chipper, to all you lovely feedback people, and, of course, to Ben and Froon. Sorry, guys, and remember I still love you really...:)

FEEDBACK: to uktechgirl@scape-goat.com

OK, people, on with the fic...

The setting: some place in some big ole country called the USA. Apparently located in some weird place called 'RL'.

Locked in a sweaty, darkened room sits a familiar-looking blond man wearing a brightly-coloured Australian Mambo shirt. The only breach in the darkness comes from a glowing computer screen on the desk before him; by its light we can see him twirling his evil moustache, deep in thought.

He reaches forward to grab another forkful of birthday cake from the plate beside the keyboard, but before he can get it to his mouth, the phone rings.

'Yotz,' mutters Froon, as the piece of cake lands on the keyboard and little bits of icing get wedged between 'A' and 'Z'. Picking up the biggest chunk of cake he can see, he seizes the phone crossly and barks out a hello, before shoving the cake into his mouth.

The voice at the other end of the line makes him jump a second time, and he nearly chokes, coughing and scattering crumbs and more icing over the keyboard. He tries vainly to brush the mess away, and looks with surprise at the jumble of letters which appear on the screen.

'So THAT'S how Monj came up with the name 'T'raltixx'', he mumbles through the mouthful of cake.

The voice on the line starts up again, louder this time. Still coughing, Froon hastily swallows and manages to croak out a few words.

'No, no, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm fine. Really.'

The voice burbles in his ear again, and Froon laughs nervously, still a little short of breath.

'Sorry, Mr Kemper, what did you say?'

There is a pause, and the colour drains entirely from Froon's face. Reaching quickly for the mouse, he closes the window marked '#farscape', and opens up a word document.

'Season Three, Mr Kemper?' he says anxiously, scanning the screen. 'Oh, yes, sir, it's going very well at the moment. Very well indeed.'

The word document finally opens. At the top of the page are the words 'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE EPISODE ONE: TITLE: ???'.

The rest of the page is completely blank.

'Oh, yes, Mr Kemper, sir, I'm sure the SACCers will have a thing or two to say,' Froon says, clearing his throat and swallowing hard as the voice on the other end of the line continues.

'Script meeting in two days, you say,' Froon says, running a sweaty hand through his hair. 'And Rock's gonna be there too?'

The voice rumbles in Froon's ear.

'Oh, no, no, Mr Kemper, sir,' says Froon, his nervous laugh bordering on hysterical, 'I'm looking forward to it already.'

With a shaky hand he replaces the receiver, and spends a few moments staring blankly and hopelessly at the screen. Sighing, he closes the document and opens up another, entitled 'FARSCAPE SEASON TWO: FINAL EPISODE CLIFFHANGER'.

'OK,' he says to himself under his breath, 'Let's see where we left them. Right, John was just about to...'

[THE NEXT THREE PARAGRAPHS HAVE BEEN CENSORED BY TPTB.]

'Phew,' says Froon, scratching his head. 'DK was right, the SACCers are gonna kill us. And I have no idea how I'm going to get John out of [CENSORED] before [CENSORED] and Chiana and Rygel [CENSORED]. Not to mention that scene with Scorpius [CENSORED] D'Argo [CENSORED] cherry pie.'

Froon drums his fingers on the desk and twirls his moustache again, hoping it will inspire thoughts appropriate to an evil genius. Before he can fully settle into his depraved trance, however, there is a loud knocking at the front door.

'Frooooooon! Oh, FROOOOOOONNNYYYYYY!' yells a familiar voice.

'Oh, no,' breathes Froon, 'not again.' Sighing heavily, he rises from his chair and goes to the front door. Through the frosted glass panels in the door he can make out a vague figure dressed in black, and apparently carrying a large cardboard box.

'Open the door, Froon, I got something for ya,' says Ben, seeing Froon appear through the frosted glass. He holds up the box, sounding over-excited.

Froon shakes his head. 'Err, thanks, Ben, but I'm a little busy right now, OK? Maybe some other time?'

Ben sighs, shakes his head, and looks down at the little West Highland terrier at his feet.

'Don't worry, Toto,' he says softly, a manic light shining in his eye. 'I'll make him pay, you'll see.'

Ben grins and leans forward, pressing his face up against the door and letting his nose get all squished up against the glass. Froon shudders slightly and backs away from the door.

'C'mon, Froon, lemme in! I brought you a birthday present!' He holds up the box for Froon to see and shakes it, still grinning.

Froon continues to back away from the door, shaking his head slowly.

Ben's face abruptly disappears from the frosted glass, and he bends down, flicking the letterbox open with his thumb. As he bends over, he becomes dimly aware of sound and movement behind him, as if hordes of young ladies had suddenly appeared from behind the parked cars along the street and started wolf-whistling.

Frowning, Ben straightens up and looks over his shoulder, but the street is empty.

He bends down again, and out of the corner of his eye sees the same vague movement, this time accompanied by what sounds like the word 'leather!' repeated several times. Shrugging, he decides to ignore it, and prods the letterbox open again, sticking his face into the hole.

'Yo, Froon, what up?' he yells, grinning madly at the cowering figure in the hallway.

'Umm...hello, Ben,' says Froon, tentatively. Then he frowns, staring hard at Ben's face.

'What?' demands Ben, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

'Err...the beard, Ben,' answers Froon, hesitantly.

'What about the beard?' says Ben crossly.

'Well...I thought you were going to shave it off.'

Ben eyes Froon suspiciously, and then breaks into a knowing smile. 'I knew it!' he yells triumphantly.

'Umm...knew what, Ben?' says Froon slowly, wondering where this is going.

'You've been trying to get me to shave this off since I grew it, haven't you, Froony? And now I know why!' Ben tries to poke a finger through the letterbox to waggle it knowingly at Froon, but the flap snaps shut on it and Ben yelps, disappearing for a moment.

Froon waits patiently for the muffled howling outside to stop. Eventually Ben's face reappears through the flap, looking grumpy.

'Yeah, Froon, now I too know the power of the beard,' says Ben, sucking on his wounded finger. 'It's kind of obvious, really.'

'OK, Ben, let's hear it,' says Froon, with a long-suffering sigh.

'See, Rock's got a beard, right?' Ben's face has brightened, and he looks at Froon expectantly. Froon nods, slowly, sighing.

'And Brian's got a beard,' Ben continues. 'And you've got a moustache. It's like Samson and Delilah, right? The source of all your evil genius abilities is facial hair!'

Froon frowns at Ben sadly, shaking his head again. 'Ben...' he begins, but is cut off by the sound of loud barking from outside.

'All right, Toto,' says Ben, his face again disappearing from the slot of the letterbox for a moment. There is a sound of tape being torn off cardboard, and then Ben's face reappears, accompanied by a very big grin.

'As Toto here has very kindly reminded me, Froon, I came here for a reason. I have a few little gifts for you.'

Froon gulps at the sounds of rummaging coming from outside, and flinches when Ben reappears, holding a pair of red stilettos.

'Yours, Froon?' says Ben with a wicked grin, posting them through the letterbox with some difficulty.

Froon clears his throat. 'Actually, they weren't in the script, Ben. Lani just wanted to...umm...explore his character.'

'Get out of town,' mutters Ben with a wide-eyed smirk, as he reaches back into the box at his feet. 'Lemme see: what have we here? Oh yeah! Complete works of Sigmund Freud!'

A dog-eared book thumps onto the mat, and falls open at the section marked 'Oedipus Complex'.

Froon steps forward and picks up the book, his expression changing from suspicious panic to genuine concern.

'Umm, Ben, the whole 'John's mom' thing...' he says uncertainly, trying not to meet Ben's eye.

Ben narrows his eyes at Froon. 'Yuhuh.'

Froon shuffles his feet, still avoiding his eye.

Ben keeps watching him. 'That was pretty harsh, Froon,' he says, slowly.

Froon stares at the floor guiltily.

'But...' says Ben, glancing around as if embarrassed. 'Well...it was...kind of heart-stoppingly great television.'

There is a moment's silence, before Froon breaks into a big silly grin which is only slightly tinged with relief.

'Hey, Ben, I knew you'd...' Froon begins, still smiling, but Ben cuts him off.

'Whoa, put the brakes on, Admiral,' says Ben, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. 'There's a little matter we haven't quite resolved yet.'

Froon frowns for a moment, confused, while Ben reaches down into the box again. He reappears, grimacing, with a small jar filled with some kind of clear goo. Unscrewing the lid, he tips the jar up and empties the goo all over Froon's doormat, and then grins.

'What is THAT?' says Froon in a small voice, looking genuinely quite perturbed.

'Ahh, just some Hynerian body fluids, Froon,' says Ben, the grin widening at the horrified look on Froon's face. 'Ya made me kiss him again, Froon,' he says, shaking his head.

'You got to kill him, too,' says Froon breathlessly, stepping back in case the goo gets anywhere near him.

'Ohhhh, no,' says Ben, starting to look slightly crazy. 'As I recall, that's not all that happened.'

He posts a whip and some very small bondage gear through the letterbox and raises his eyebrows pointedly at Froon.

Froon gulps. 'Oh, c'mon, Ben, you enjoyed that scene really,' he says, in a wheedling voice.

Ben shakes his head firmly.

'Come on, you must have enjoyed SOME of it,' says Froon, raising his eyebrows.

Ben goes on shaking his head, then stops to think, and sighs.

'Well, I guess I got to see Claudia in a new light. Not to mention Virg and Gigi...'

Ben's eyes cloud over as he drifts off on the memory, smiling to himself. Then he catches himself, and wags a finger at Froon through the letterbox, rather cautiously this time.

'Ahh, nice try, Mister Distraction, but you can't get round me that easy,' says Ben, fixing Froon firmly by the eye. 'The fact remains that you took the opportunity to have the whole of the rest of the cast snog each other - and all I got was Rygel. AGAIN.'

Froon looks at him blankly, and then hunkers down and leans forward, looking around as if there were some strange presence above him watching these events unfold.

'Hey, Ben,' he hisses in a loud stage whisper. 'Maybe you should remind the author of this fic not to use so much Britslang...apparently it confuses the natives.'

Ben looks mildly put out. 'Hey, I'm allowed, I married one - who, by the way, YOU have never written a part for,' he says, also in a stage whisper.

'Oh, whatever,' says Froon crossly, before straightening and clearing his throat. 'So, where were we?' he says as if nothing untoward has occurred.

'Well, gee, goshdarnit, y'all, but I don't rightly know, I'm sure,' says Ben, fluttering his eyelashes.

Froon rolls his eyes and gives Ben a stern look. Ben looks chastened and coughs apologetically. There is a pause, and Froon looks hopefully at his watch.

'Wait up,' says Ben, staring hard at Froon, a small smile on his face. 'I'm not done. See, you didn't just make me play tonsil hockey with the slug, didya? Oooh, no. No, this time, I had to DIE! That's twice now, Froon.'

'Hey, c'mon, the first time wasn't me!' says Froon, holding up his hands defensively.

'Yeah, but it was a whole lot more fun waking up when Monj did it,' grumbles Ben.

'C'mon, Ben, I didn't really kill you,' says Froon, in a placatory tone of voice. 'If I had you wouldn't be standing on my doorstep posting Hynerian hair gel through my letterbox - and I'm telling you now, by the way, Cheryl's gonna have a cow when she sees the mess you've made, young man.'

Ben's eyes open wide and he starts to look slightly worried.

'Anyway, weren't you supposed to be giving me a birthday present?' says Froon, staring at the gooey pile of junk on the doormat. 'I don't think any of these qualify.'

Ben smiles. 'Oh, yeah, I forgot,' he said. 'You'll like this, Froon.'

He reaches down, and a rectangular object wrapped in bright shiny paper tied with a bow plops through the door and onto the mat. Hastily picking it up before it can absorb any of the Hynerian goo, Froon shakes it to see if it rattles, or ticks, or shows any sign at all of being explosive.

'Go on, Froon, unwrap it,' says Ben with a mischievous grin.

Sighing trepidatiously, Froon pulls off the bow and tears away the paper, to reveal a hefty stack of pages. The top page bears the legend 'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE: EPISODE THIRTEEN 'I'm So Vain, OR, Crichton Strikes Back' by Ben Browder'

Froon swallows, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

'C'mon, Froon, why don't you read it? You're gonna love what happens,' says Ben, his face splitting into a grin so wide it won't fit through the letterbox.

Froon looks down, and starts flicking through the pages, catching glimpses of scene headings and stage directions. He notes that almost all of the scenes involve only Ben and Claudia, and that very few of them require the assistance of the wardrobe department.

'Check out scene seven,' advises Ben with an alarming smile on his face.

Froon flips the pages to find scene seven, in which 'Alien of the week (working name: 'Froon')' gets brutally sliced in two by D'Argo's Qualta blade. Froon swallows, glancing up at Ben nervously.

'Scene twelve?' Ben suggests with a grin.

Froon flicks forward in the script, to discover 'Alien of the week', who now appears to be held together by large, painful-looking stitches across his abdomen, being trapped in a power vortex which unfortunately involves his head slowly being dissolved.

'Scene twenty-five,' says Ben in a bored voice, not bothering to wait for Froon to look up.

Froon's eyes widen as 'Alien of the week' has his head reconstituted by a giant alien wasp, which decides to suck out his soul in return, forcing him to be brought back to life by mouth-to-mouth from Rygel.

'There's also scenes thirty-four through forty-two, and of course the whole of the next six episodes, but I think you get the picture, right, Froon?' says Ben, gazing at Froon through the letterbox with a big happy smile.

Froon clears his throat. 'You're dead set on this then, Ben?' he says, in a rasping, breathless voice.

'Ooh, yeah, you betcha,' says Ben, grinning.

'Then I'm afraid you leave me no choice,' says Froon, in that same rasping, strange voice, turning his head away and writhing as the skin on his face seems to buckle and twist.

Ben watches, horrified, as Froon's face splits in two, and gnarled hands rise up to pull away the mild-mannered, cheery visage of the mighty Froon. In its place is left wizened grey skin; sunken eyes; a pointed chin; a leather mask; and REALLY bad teeth.

'Holy Mission Impossible Rip-Off, Batman,' murmurs Ben, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open.

'Oh, spare me the twentieth-century pop-culture references, Ben,' says Scorpius, stepping forwards.

'C'mon, what else am I gonna say?' says Ben, pulling off the Patented Browder Gob Open Eyebrows Raised Incredulous Look once again, although the impact is slightly diminished by the letterbox. 'Besides, you're the scriptwriter, remember?'

'Well, so I thought,' says Scorpius ominously, glancing down at the script in his hand with a dismissive sneer. 'Did you really think I would allow this episode to happen?'

'Well, yeah, kind of. I wasn't aware when I was bringing it over that I was gonna be handing it to my way scary hybrid superevil nemesis, remember?'

There is a pause in the conversation; Scorpius narrows his eyes at Ben, and there is a faint sound like rushing wind. Ben blinks repeatedly, and Scorpius breaks into a smug and very very ugly smile.

'Remember what, Ben?' Scorpius says casually, holding the sheaf of paper in his hand behind his back, out of sight.

Ben keeps blinking, and looks up at Scorpius with a confused expression.

'I was...I was just...' Ben stammers, utterly bewildered.

'You were just telling me that you'd like ME to ghost-write that Season 3 episode you said you were doing,' says Scorpius with a thin-lipped, obsequious smile.

'Uh...yeah...that's right...' says Ben, frowning.

'Though of course, now you have to leave, because you have an appointment,' prompts Scorpius, still smiling.

'Yeah...an appointment, yeah,' says Ben slowly, nodding dopily. 'Uhhh...where was that again?'

'At Monj's house, Ben. Remember: you still have to make him pay, don't you?' says Scorpius, as if talking to a small child.

'Monj,' says Ben robotically, his eyes glazing over. 'Must make Monj pay.'

The letterbox flap snaps shut and through the frosted glass, Scorpius sees Ben walk slowly and stiffly away from the house, the little Westie yipping at his heels. Stepping forward, Scorpius nudges the pile of shoes, books and goo on the doormat with his toe, and remembers the script he's been hiding behind his back, the mere thought of it prompting a scary Scorpy growl.

He stares at the front page, and closes his eyes, ignoring the fact that the leather hat is starting to get a little itchy.

Outside, on the well-lit pavement (OK, OK, sorry)

Outside, on the well-lit SIDEWALK, Ben suddenly freezes mid-stride, and then crashes to the ground. He stays there for a few seconds, and then jerks awake again, to find Toto enthusiastically licking his face.

'Whoa, boy,' says Ben, pushing the dog away and scrambling unsteadily to his feet. 'Wow, that was...freaky...kind of like déjà vu all over again...again...only not...' He rubs his hand over his face, scrunches up his eyes, shakes his head, and walks on.

Only moments later, he tumbles back to the ground, and lies there, lifeless, for several seconds. When he finally stirs, Toto is perched on his chest, and is again licking his face with gusto.

'Eef...OK, knock it off, Toto, or you are going straight back to Kansas, and I am not talking executive class flights here, OK?' says Ben irritably, the stress starting to tell a little. He struggles to his feet again, dusting off the leather trousers, and carries on down the street.

His progress is watched from the doorway by Scorpius, who has a frankly quite alarmingly evil grin on his face.

'Oh, Ben, if only you knew,' he says, smirking as he throws Ben's script into the nearest bin. 'But since you don't, I am going to have SUCH a wonderful time at the next cast party...'

'But first things first,' he says, striding purposefully into Froon's small office and sitting himself in front of the desk. He stretches a bony finger towards the mouse to open the document.

'Now, let me see...' he murmurs, looking at the title 'FARSCAPE SEASON THREE: EPISODE ONE.'

''Title: Crichton Gets Captured by Scorpius and Tells Him Everything He Knows.' Now, that could have potential...'

FIN