AUTHOR: Kristen Kilar

TITLE: Catharsis (6?)

RATING: PG. Language. Alcohol. Talk about sex. Angst.

DISCLAIMER: Don't I just wish? Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda and all related characters and plots belong to Robert Hewitt Wolfe, Tribune, Majel Roddenberry, and a bunch of other people besides, none of whom are me. "In The Streets of Boston" belongs to the Dropkick Murphys.

SUMMARY: Catharsis: Any cleansing or release, as of pent-up emotions. In the aftermath of "Bunker Hill", Harper and Rommie bond.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As always, much love to my beta, Myna/Allie/niki blue/rah rah replica/etc.

Please read and review.

If Rommie had blood, it would be running cold. "I made you leave," she pointed out. She'd had to threaten him, actually, telling him that if he wouldn't come willing she would break his legs and drag him to the Maru, because she would not lose another member of her crew.

"Doesn't matter. I left. I screwed up. Brendan died because I screwed up. Millions of people are dying because I screwed up."

"Harper—"

He interrupted, scrambling back to his feet, talking too fast. "Hey, what the hell kind of wake is this, anyway, babe?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Harper—"

"Going nowhere with my life," he bellowed along with the pounding music, "Careening toward an early death, a streetwise man, on the corner every night…So brace for impact, brace for impact, brace for impact, why don't you brace the end is coming, no time for running…"

"Harper!"

He grabbed her hand, tugged her to her feet, and started dancing with her, still yelling lyrics. "Dealing drugs to little kids, a streetwise man, selling death and making cash, pulling scams and moving bids, a streetwise man, society has called my bluff tonight… So brace for impact, brace for impact, brace for impact, why don't you brace the end is coming, no time for running…The end is coming, no time for running NOW!"

"HARPER!" Rommie shouted, grabbed him by the shoulders, and held him still.

He scowled at her. "What?"

"You weren't the one to screw up. That was Dylan."

Harper laughed, sounding on the edge of hysteria. "That's mighty funny coming from you, Rom doll—"

"Just because he's my captain doesn't mean I can't see him as he is, and in this case he messed up badly. He put the Revolution on an impossible timetable and then discovered he couldn't make it—"

"Yeah, and about that, did he hafta send Tyr? Was he trying to insult the Revolution?"

Rommie had to smile at that. "I have to admit the thought crossed my mind as well." It hadn't been Dylan's brightest move ever, sending a Nietzschean to deliver news to a group of Nietzschean slaves engaged in a war against the entire species.

Harper didn't smile though. He pulled away from her, sat down on the bed, and buried his face in his hands. Finally he said, "I hate him, Rommie."

"Dylan?" she said softly.

"He runs off to help anybody and everybody whether they want it or not, hell, whether they need it or not. We needed it, we wanted it, and we were willing to help him in exchange which is more than most…recipients of his generosity are willing to do." Harper's bitterness and sarcasm were almost tangible.

Rommie winced. "He screwed up, Harper, but—"

"But Earth isn't strategically valuable. We're never going back there, Rommie, you realize that? Dylan's never going to spare a second of his attention for the slave planets again. Hell, he probably thinks of us like he thought of GS9 whatever—bunch of dirty uncivilized uneducated homicidal kids who maybe one day will be 'mature' enough to join his Commonwealth, but damned if he's going to help us get there."

"He doesn't think that!"

"You sure?"

She closed her eyes.

TBC