TITLE: The Long and Winding Road (Note: work in progress)

RATING: PG-13

CHAPTER: THREE

AUTHOR: L. C. Brotherton

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any portion of Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda. I just like to bring some of these characters out to visit my playground and promise to put them back when we've finished our game.

REVIEWS/FEEDBACK: Yes, please!

ARCHIVING? Fine by me. Just email me and let me know where my work will be stored.

SPOILERS: The final few episodes of season 4, particularly Arkology; all of season 5

The Long and Winding Road: Chapter Three

Dylan Hunt cast a side-long glance toward Beka's small cabin beyond the Eureka Maru's cockpit, wondering for the ten thousandth time what was going on in Rhade's head. The man had become eerily quiet, and it was starting to unsettle him.

"You know, if I came to with your ugly mug two inches from my face, I'd probably die of sudden fright," Dylan cautioned, trying to lighten the tense mood.

"I can promise you by whatever you want to me swear it against, that our faces will never be that close, not while I draw breath," Rhade muttered with absent distaste. "Besides, I'm just making sure she's all right," he offered casually, resting his palm lightly on her forehead.

"By watching each and every single breath she takes?" Dylan demanded. "Rhade, you've literally hovered over her for the entire trip—been crouched at the head of that bunk the whole time! I hate to drag you away from your new hobby, but we're on approach to the Andromeda and you might want to get strapped in for arrival."

Rhade reluctantly agreed, murmuring something quietly to the girl before he slung himself into the co-pilot's seat, grudgingly snapping restraints into place. He nodded toward the waiting warship. "Land gently," he admonished with sincerity, glancing back toward Beka's cabin again. "She's had a difficult enough time recently without having to deal with your poor piloting skills, too."

Dylan flipped a mock salute. "Aye, commander, as you wish," he frowned slightly, smoothly bringing the Maru onto the hangar deck.

Rhade had his prize gently wrapped in a blanket, tucked up against his chest before Dylan had the engines completely shut down.

Dylan considered the pair for a moment. "I'm sure Trance will be able to help her," he offered. "I'll catch up with you later."

If Rhade heard, he made no comment, carefully shifting the girl in his arms before carrying her past the cockpit.

"Mr. Harper, I could use some help with the cargo," Dylan shouted out the hatch, his words accented by the stomping of Rhade's boots carrying him down the ramp.

Dylan didn't bother to glance out the portal, but crossed his arms and began counting from the moment Rhade left to the moment Seamus Harper would discover that Telemachus Rhade wasn't lugging a battered crate down the ramp. He got to three, closed his eyes, and leaned his weary head against the bulkhead.

"Woo-hoo! Now that's my kind of supplies," Harper crowed, followed by his loud protest of being unceremoniously shoved off the ramp. "I'm all right—I only fell a couple of feet, big guy. I'm sure you didn't see me right there in front of you!"

Dylan leaned his head out the hatch to see Harper dusting himself off, hopping back onto the boarding ramp as Rhade disappeared around the hangar exit, Beka waving her arms excitedly around her face as she followed him.

"I really could use some help with the rest of the cargo," Dylan admonished.

Harper glanced up hopefully. "Any more, uh, cargo like Rhade lugged out?"

Dylan shook his head and sighed. "Nope, we're fresh out of unconscious young women, but we've got some greasy mech stuff just waiting for your genius to turn them into some repairs for the Andromeda."

Harper considered the options and shrugged. "Almost as good, boss, almost as good. Besides, that girl needs a chance to clean up and rest up before she meets The Harper," he grinned. "Now, let's look at those parts the anti-tech league managed to let slip past them," he enthused, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

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"...you just bought this girl?" Beka demanded again, still waving her hands around her head, trying to force the words to make sense either to herself or to the strangely silent Nietzschean. "And Dylan let you?"

For a moment, Telemachus Rhade's long purposeful strides halted. "I don't need Dylan Hunt's permission to do as I choose," he snapped.

His dark eyes flashed as he considered the angry human woman at his side, and it seemed that he might speak. During the next heartbeat, Beka was sure she saw a swell of the old Rhade—the reasonable and sane Rhade--lurking in those eyes, and she wanted nothing more desperately than to draw him out further.

At length, he shook his head, and his expression softened. "I will explain it to you later, Beka," he began, in the patient tones of a wizened teacher to a first-day pupil. "But for now, can we please just get to Medical?"

"Okay," Beka conceded, "but you've got some serious explanations to make, buster. And don't get any big ideas about starting a harem or anything like that. It's hard enough to keep Harper's mind on what he's supposed to be doing anyway," she added tersely, following in his wake.