Author's Note: This is the sequel to "Bridges You Cross", and the launching point for several of the secondary character arcs in the Bridges Universe. A set of five "snapshots" of how the Alliance effects day-to-day life.

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Dahlia Radim

The Genii

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Dahlia had always considered herself a patriot.

Love and service were important in her family; 'the foundation of a good life' her mother had called them. Work was a way to show honor to the ancestors, to the old ways, while still moving forward with the plans that would free their people. When she'd begun to show signs of the sickness, Dahlia had feared that she'd lost the ability to help her people; once the first signs emerged, it was never more than a year before death followed.

Then her brother had come to her, because she was his sister and he trusted her above all others. He had offered her a way to serve again, a way to help her people one more time instead of dying as one of the nameless on the cold cots of the medical halls. Once you had the shakes, you were no longer counted among the living - you were not strong enough to work, so you were a waste of resources. There had not been a choice.

Ladon had told her what he planned, but he had never told her that he would return for her. That those in the city of the ancestors could heal her.

There had been so much that he hadn't planned.

Now, she served her people again. This time, she served them with her life. She was among the first of her people to take up residence in the city of the ancestors, living proof of her brother's loyalty. Her people's loyalty to the new alliance against the Wraith.

A week after the move, on the day that the Earth ship departed, her presence in the city ceased to be a service, and instead became a joy.

On the way to the infirmary for her weekly treatment, Dahlia got lost. She found herself in a region of the city she'd yet to visit, and while trying to find her way back she stumbled on a room filled with color. Living color. Everywhere she looked, there were reds, yellows, purples, and greens. Many of the plants were familiar, more from her mother's bedtime stories than her own experience, but many more were completely unknown. She was startled by the sound of a door behind her, and turned to find the Earth doctor.

"You missed your appointment."

"Oh. I, uh, I'm sorry. I must have been distracted. I apologize." She paused, and frowned. "You didn't have to come for me yourself."

He smiled sheepishly. "It was no trouble, lass. We're a bit past it now, anyway; I was just on my way to dinner and thought I'd collect you on the way." He peered around, taking in the flora. "I can see how you would be distracted; it's beautiful down here." He slipped his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and stepped up to stand beside her. "So, dinner?"

She cocked her head to the side, and allowed a small smile. "Just dinner?"

"Well. Dinner, followed by a quick exam. I can't have you dying on my watch, after all." He laughed, and placed a careful hand at the small of her back to guide her to the door. Much to her surprise, the touch was as comforting as it was foreign. She had grown unused to touches outside of the clinical when she had first been afflicted with the sickness. Upon her recovery, there had been the fear of a relapse, and she had avoided growing used to what she might again lose. He sensed her hesitation, and paused as the door opened. "Don't worry, love. It'll still be here tomorrow."

"I...I know."

For the first time since being diagnosed with the sickness, there was a tomorrow.

Finis