A/N

At the time of writing this, I had recently seen the episode John Quixote. It um...let's just say that I consider it to be an "okay" episode, but I feel that more could have been done with the concept, to plunge more into John's psyche rather than just touch on elements of it. Know that might have removed some of the subtlety but...well, this isn't the place to discuss it.

Anyway, compelled me to type this up. Obvious liabilities admittedly, but I guess that's what fanfic's for.

Kiss the Princess

Come to think of it, that would have made a good holodeck episode.

John blinked as he re-entered the game world, realizing a problem with the analogy. First of all, none of the captains of Star Trek had actually been insane, and right now, he was feeling like that himself. Well, more insane at least. Second of all, the holodeck was an actual deck, and not a barely functioning device that was only working at all thanks to DRD 1812. And third of all, the holodeck was only a death trap when the plot demanded it. This, he figured, had a 50/50 chance of being a death trap. Which was better odds than most of the crazy dren he'd done over the last three years but…

His train of thought came to a halt. What had happened the previous solar day had been a potential holodeck episode. This…this was nothing more than an epilogue. At best.

Well, odds have been good so far.

Good enough that Stark's wacko game was still functioning, and that he'd jacked back into it. Good enough that he'd started off in the Gammak Base. Good enough that he figured that he'd do his task and get out before anyone noticed.

So he began walking. Wearing the same gear that he had on that day three cycles ago. Wondering if in the space of those three cycles, how far his sanity had slipped. Infiltrating the Gammak Base had been crazy, but it was the type of crazy that had been necessary. This was just plain old selfish crazy. The type of crazy that had him searching for wormholes. The type of crazy that had made him lakka distillate to help him ignore Aeryn. The type of crazy that had prompted him to take a drug of the virtual kind.

"Hello John."

The type of crazy that made him sweat within the virtual world and point his pistol at Scorpy. And keep pointing. And keep pointing…

"Oh don't be so stupid it's not a banana this time."

John checked. No, it wasn't. Or any other kind of fruit for that matter.

"So John," the frellwit said, beginning to pace around as best as the narrow hallway would allow. "What game should we play this time?"

"I'm not here for games."

"No, of course not. Why would you?" The video game Scorpius began walking to him. "Life's a game to you, isn't it? All your wormholes, all your gallanting about the Uncharted Territories, your willing ignorance of the scarran threat." The avatar spat at him. "You disgust me."

John shot him.

Therapy. It works marvels.

Apparently the program mimicked reality quite well. Because not only was the holographic Scorpius still alive after the pulse pistol shot, he was still standing. Still alive, still surviving as he always did. Still haunting his dreams as well as his reality. Could Stark have somehow known that the real Scorpius would seek refuge on Moya? It was crazy, but then again, Stark had been crazy at the best of times anyway. Precognition didn't seem all that far-fetched right now.

"Nice," Scorpius said. "But ineffective."

"I can shoot you again."

"Of course. But then again, what would that do?"

"Give me some joy." John shot him again. And like before, nothing happened.

"Oh Crichton, poor poor Johnny."

John shot him again. And again. And again.

"You're doing it wrong."

And John lowered the pistol. Only for a moment. Because Scorpius was right about one thing. He was doing it wrong. That's why he shoved the half-breed against the wall and pointed the pistol to his chin.

"No suit," the human hissed. "No misses. No extra lives."

Scorpius sighed. "Still wrong."

"Wrong. Don't tell me what's wrong Scorpy."

"Fine. Work it out for yourself – why aren't I dead?"

"Because you've got more lives than a cat?"

"Because this part of the game isn't about that. It recreates the Gammak Base. You're meant to escape, not kill me." Scorpius grinned, his pointed teeth making him look even more terrifying. "Think about it."

"I have thought about it…" John hissed. "I should have killed you then. I-"

"But you didn't. And my duplicate wasn't formed then either, so you have no excuse." Scorpius grabbed John's neck, almost like a gesture of friendship. "Poor Johnny. So many people die for you. You're willing to let even more die because you can't see the bigger picture."

"I…" John trailed off. "How do you know about scarrans?"

"What?"

"All the memories came from the other me. You never told the other me about you and the scarrans." John pressed the pistol in closer. "So how do you know?"

"I don't," Scorpius chuckled. "But you do."

John pulled the trigger. The pulse blast hit the corridor wall as Scorpius disappeared.

"Frell!"

Harvey. Videogame Scorpius. Scarrans. He cradled the pistol in his hands. Some kind of neural bleedover, he wondered? Harvey would have known…but Harvey was gone. Was his mind conjuring up a replacement? Was the videogame Scorpius even there? Did…

Frelled. It's all frelled.

John holstered the pistol, ready to call it quits. He'd come in, he'd seen Scorpius, there was no indication as to how to get to the next level. The game was broken. He hadn't even seen…

Seen the way up.

There, at the end of the corridor. Light. The way he was meant to go. The way he had gone on the real Gammak Base, when making his escape. He started jogging. Reaching the stairs, he started climbing. Reaching the top, he started squinting. It was artificial light of course. But then again, he lived on a leviathan now – artificial light was the only light he got most of the time. And by Moya's standards, this was blinding. It-

"John?"

And then he saw her. The person he'd come to see. To entertain his own ego and psyche and…and…

"John?"

His lip started trembling. His right hand started shaking, reaching for his pistol. Not to shoot but because…because…

I know what happens next.

The game hadn't shown this. It had jumped him straight to the tower and over the cuckoo's nest. He'd seen her again in the game, as the second Scorpius, the one he'd thought was the real deal, had worked his mastery of the game code, but this…this was worse. She was here. Not about to be turned into pixels but…but…

"John I-"

And she trailed off. John spun around. He fired. And Scorpius staggered backwards, a gaping hole in his chest. Slowly, he looked down. Slowly, he looked back up.

"That…" the maniac whispered. "That's not what's supposed to happen…"

And then he fell down. Dead. Defeated. Finished.

That didn't stop John from shooting him again. And again. Screaming all the while. Making sure the bastard was dead, and staying dead.

"John!"

And he spun around, pointing the pistol at her. Hands trembling, eyes watering, his gaze meeting hers. Her eyes shining with confusion. Her body moving backwards. He r footsteps quiet, like a ghost.

"Gilina…" he croaked. "I…"

And he staggered backwards, coming to rest against the wall of the base's apex. The floodgate that was his eyelids opened. His pistol was thrown to the side. And he saw it all again.

Shoot him Gilina, shoot him!

He's not supposed to come from that direction!

No more lies John.

Lies. He'd almost forgotten what a lie was. The truth had become so malleable.

"You're not here," he whispered.

Like right now. Because it wasn't Gilina Renaez that was standing before him. It was a madman's copy of her. The real Gilina was dead. Just like the real Scorpius was still alive, part of the bitter concoction of medicine that was reality. And no amount of gaming would change that.

Pulling his hair, John faced the ground. He wanted out and just saying "I want out" would do it. 1812 wouldn't let him down. And yet…and yet…

He looked up at her again. She just stood there. Impassive, with little expression. Like her code was glitching out. Maybe it was.

"I saw you," he whispered. "I saw you die again…"

Pixels…it had been pixels, he told himself. At the time, he'd hardly thought anything of it. Do his 'quest' with Chiana, slay the ogre, kiss the princess, get back to the real world.

"You saw Zhaan," the ghost said. "Did that help?"

John pulled his hair again. Zhaan. Another death because of him. But…but…

"I saw her live," he whispered, facing the ground. "I didn't…I didn't have to see her die again."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gilina…no, the ghost, he told himself, crouch down. He felt her hand take his. He felt his digital heart pump digital blood. He felt digital tears down his digital cheeks.

"Why are you here John?" the ghost whispered. "The game's over."

"I know."

"And you know it's not real."

"I get that."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because…" John met her gaze. "Because…it's all I have."

"No it's not," the ghost said. "Most of the characters in the game are on Moya right now."

"You aren't."

John averted his gaze so he couldn't see whatever look was on the ghost's face. No, Gilina wasn't on Moya. Nor was Zhaan. Or Jool, or Stark, or heck, even Crais. He chuckled – even seeing Crais again would have been a better alternative to Scorpius. Besides, Aeryn was in open season right now. The old bastard would have loved that.

"Where's the rest of you guys?" John asked as the ghost got to her feet. "The other characters?"

"Other sections of the game. There's no way to transition between them."

"So you're alone. With Scorpius."

"Only when the game loads." She began walking away. "Not sure what shooting him will actually do. Like he said, that's not meant to happen."

"It should have happened!"

Before he knew it, John was on his feet. Before he knew it, he'd grabbed Gilina's hand. Before he knew it, he was subconsciously referring to her as "Gilina" again and not "the ghost." Before he knew it, he had let go of her hand, and was pounding the apex's walls, yelling.

"I should have shot him! I could have shot him! I could have saved you!"

"You don't know that."

"The game proves it!"

"No, it doesn't John, look around you. There's no Peacekeepers, no pod, none of your friends. It's an incomplete representation."

"And you?" he asked, slowly meeting her gaze again. "What are you?"

"I'm Gilina."

"No, not what, who," he said. He wiped away the tears. "Why do you know all this? Why did none of the other characters show any sense of who they were?"

"Stark did. Zhaan did."

"Stark and Zhaan, that's to be expected. The creator and his lover. Why you?" he asked. "What's so special about you?"

"You tell me."

John opened his mouth as he sank to the ground. Then closed it. Gilina…had been…was…might have…he sighed. He didn't know. First humanoid girl he'd met this side of the galaxy who wasn't pointing out his inefficiencies half the time, and driving him nuts in a good way the other. Maybe that was what happened between them. She'd been a concept. Some kind of lynchpin for him to latch onto, that by the time he'd met her again, he no longer needed her. And she'd died because of that.

And yet…he'd come back in. To see her again. Off the rebound from Aeryn maybe but…he shook his head. Maybe there was no "maybe." Maybe (as in, a different maybe), that was all there was. Maybe that was his fate, to go from one person to another and hope that by the time he left, their life was still intact.

"Stark took my memories."

John looked up at her.

"When he helped the real Gilina cross over. That's why I'm here. That's who I am," the digital Gilina said. "I'm her memory, being played out in a scenario of your memory."

"That…" John trailed off. It made sense. The Stark avatar had been self-aware. So had the Zhaan one. Gilina's memory, being preserved…He got to his feet. The ghost smiled at him. And then…and then…

And then he wasn't sure what happened. One moment she was smiling at him. The next, the two of them were proving that human men liked sebacean girls, and that the two species' similarities included certain movements of the tongue and feeling of the flesh. And a whole one being on top of the other. In this case, the sebacean.

"She loved you," the ghost whispered in between the movements of said tongue. "I love you…"

John didn't answer. The first reason was because he didn't know how to respond. The second because out of the corner of his eye, he could see something happening to the walls. They were looking weird. Pixilated.

"Gilina…"

"Shh…" she whispered. "I know…"

"Know…what?"

"The game's crashing," she said. "The base, Scorpius, me…" She trailed off. "It'll be gone soon."

"I…" John looked up at her. "No. Not again. Not a third time!"

"There was only one time," she whispered, putting a finger on his lips. "One real time."

"You're real," he whispered.

"I'm a memory. Maybe that makes me more real than the other programs but…" She let out a sigh. "Well, what are memories but our perception of reality?"

"You were more than a perception."

"Then what was I?" she whispered. "Tell me."

"You…" John trailed off. "I don't know. I…we…never found out."

The walls glitched again. The sky seemed to be coming apart. Everything was beginning to lose focus. And Gilina…Gilina was getting off him. Standing up straight. As John got to his feet he saw a tear ran down her cheek.

"Well…" she sniffed. "Saying goodbye. Again."

John sighed. He wanted to do…something. He wasn't sure what. He…

"Just, tell me…" Gilina whispered. "It won't matter soon, but…who was she? Who was I? What was she…I…to you?"

"I don't know."

"But I…" The ghost trailed off, turning around. "No. It doesn't matter. You shouldn't have to stay."

"Gilina-"

"Go," she said. "You're real. More real than any of us here. As long as you're safe you-"

"Gilina, you're the person who saved me."

She looked back at him.

"At the Gammak Base," he said. "You saved me. Risked everything for me. Died for me."

"I know," she whispered. "I remember it."

"Then that's the type of person you are," he said. "The person who'd give their own life for someone else's. That's why…" He walked closer. "That's why I loved you. That's why I…love you."

The sky shook. The walls began to collapse. He saw Gilina before him. Fading away like the memory she was. Smiling. Reaching out to him. Kissing him one last time. Whispering her final words in his ear.

"Who says you have to kiss the princess to win?"

And John kissed her back. Telling himself one thing.

Gilina Renaez wasn't a princess.

She had been something more real.