Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters from Andromeda, etc. etc.
A/N: This is my first try at an angst-ridden oneshot, so I'm open to anyconstructive criticism you may have. Review, review, review! (It's the only way I'll get better!)
Pain.
That was all Harper could feel. Pain, lacing through his crushed chest, burning in his leg. He breathed in raggedly, and tried to take his mind away from the hurting. He started singing, softly, barely audible. It was a silly little song he had heard on Earth. His mother had sung it to him.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…"
Harper thought of Dylan . He missed the old days when he had been thought of by Dylan as valuable. Missed the days when he had almost been appreciated. Almost. Before Seefra, Dylan had never really liked him, but he'd never hated him either. There had been a sort of nothingness where an emotion, a relationship should have been. But now Dylan thought of him as a criminal, and this new anger hurt him more than the void ever had. Harper felt his leg twinge. Forcing his mind from the burning sensation that was spreading through his body, he turned his mind to Trance.
Good old Trance. She had been so innocent before. Naïve, Sweet. His purple goddess. He felt so strong around her, so powerful. Like she needed protecting. Like he could be her protector. Then she had changed. She became all knowing. She was a different person now, her memories of Harper gone. Harper could feel a pain in his gut every time she couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember the easy friendship they had once shared. He felt ridiculously childlike around her, no longer her guardian but the one being guarded. Barely like person at all.
"…You make me happy, when skies are grey…"
It was getting harder to breath now. Rhade drifted into Harper's brain. Harper had always liked the stoic, unshakeable addition to the crew. He didn't mind Neichteans as much, around Rhade. Could forget about the Neichzieans on Earth. Rhade, formerly the exception that proved the rule, but becoming more and more like what he had sought to leave behind. The man who hated the Abyss was becoming an abyss himself, a never ending chasm into which all his former strength and happiness disappeared, helped along by the liquor he consumed at every opportunity.
Harper's mind drifted on, trying to escape the urgent cries of pain that were trying to punch into his thoughts. Doyle floated into his mind. Doyle, strong, beautiful. He felt so paternal towards her, a feeling he had never understood before. Like she was his student. Like she was his daughter. He had wanted her to look up to him, had wanted to teach her things, give her advice, do things that his own father hadn't been able to do with him. And she had wanted him to do this, until Dylan came into the picture. Then Doyle turned to Dylan as a leader, finding him to be much more admirable. And Harper was left offering an occasional comment or remark that to her was nothing more than something to scoff at.
"…You'll never know, dear…"
Rommie. His creation, his masterpiece. Harper almost let out a bitter laugh. He had missed Rommie, missed her so much. He'd lost count of the weeks he'd spent trying to rebuild her. Trying to bring her back into his life. But he didn't know why he had bothered. Meeting Rommie again, he realised what his selective memory couldn't show him – his creation, the culmination of his love for machine, didn't respect him. He respected Rommie, was proud of her, wanted her to think of him. His entire life on Seefra was consumed by trying to make her a part of it so that she could understand how much he loved her. And yet Rommie had no love for him, only disdain.
"…how much I love you…"
Finally, Harper thoughts drifted to Beka. His eyes wet with tears. Beka, his big sister. She had seemed so cold lately, had no warmth left in her. Harper had been trying to rekindle that flame, bring back the warmth and the love he once found in her. He almost hated her for showing him that fire to begin with. If she hadn't, he wouldn't feel as though he freezing to death now. But despite the recent chill, he clung to her, clung to that last hope of escaping the cold. She was his only living family, his only protector. Or she had used to be. He didn't know what to call her now. Distant friend? Lost family? Stranger?
He wondered how Beka would find out that he died. He wondered if she'd cry.
"…So please don't take…"
The pain was fading now. Everything was fading.
Darkness seeped into the edge of his vision, then spread, enveloping him.
"…My sunshine…"
Claiming him.
"…Away…"
And he was gone.