A/N: Right, here we go. All is revealed. Tell me what you think. Ah, go on.

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Chapter Twelve: Previously on the Traveller

Trance was still sitting by Milon's side as he came to properly. She had performed every medical check she knew on him, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him except for a couple of bruises and total exhaustion. Then she had just been sitting there for a while, watching him sleep. It was strange; a week ago she hadn't even known he existed and now it felt like her heart would break if something happened to him. It wasn't just that he knew about alternate realities and possibilities, not just that he was different from any other human, or alien, she had ever met, it was… something else, just some feeling. And the worst of all was of course that that feeling was not mutual.

"Hi, you're awake!"

She smiled at him as he opened his eyes.

"Hey Trance…"

He sounded so tired. Like his breath would hardly carry the words. But she knew that all he really needed was rest.

"You're going to be okay…" she said.

"You think?"

"I know. Milon… when I saw you lying there on the ground… I got really scared. I thought you might be… dead."

"Well, I felt like it."

He gave her a pale smile. Without thinking, she took his hand in hers.

"Listen, Dylan said you might be able to stay with us and…"

"Oh, I don't know..." he interrupted.

"Why not? Where else would you go?"

"Yeah, you're right... but that's not what I mean. It's... I don't know how to say this..."

What was it he wanted to say? Last time they had a proper conversation, Milon had got angry and stormed out of the room.

"Just say it, I'll understand," she said.

"Ok. I'm sorry I was so... cold earlier. But it doesn't matter if I stay here or go, there's not going to be anything... y'know, between us. I like you and all, but... I can't."

"Why?"

Trance couldn't help feeling worried. Was it because he was human and she was... not? Or was it because of something else? Milon closed his eyes and looked like he was going to fall asleep again before he had a chance to tell her.

"Why?" she repeated.

"Well, because people I... like, tend to die. Or leave. And that happened not so long ago... someone died. Was killed."

"Someone you loved? A woman?"

"Yes."

She could tell from his voice how hard it was for him to say this. To have to remember it, acknowledge it as a fact by telling her. He closed his eyes again and she could see a tear run from the corner of his eye. She looked at the wrist of the hand she was still holding. The scar. Obviously this was the explanation he had not been willing to give her before.

"Oh, Milon..."

Trance was interrupted by the door to the medical unit opening. Tyr stepped into the room, oblivious as always of other people's privacy.

"Trance, would you give us a minute?" he said.

"I don't think so… he really needs the rest."

"Trance, leave!"

Tyr's voice was calm, but she knew that he meant it. She looked at Milon, who nodded at her as if to say that it was alright. Trance walked out of the room, leaving them on their own.

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Tyr walked up to the bed and looked down on Milon. The boy looked impossibly pale under the white fluorescent lights of the medical room. His ribs were bruised, his arms were cut, probably by flying metal splinters from the explosion, but he would live. And heal. Now it was time to make sure Tyr would do the same. The intensity of the hatred and determination Tyr had seen in Milon's eyes as they dragged him away was enough for him to know. Know that if he did not convince Milon that he had not betrayed him, there was a very real chance that the boy would try to kill him. Or at least injure him severely as revenge for what he thought Tyr had done to him. Milon might be weak as a newborn kitten right now, but Tyr had a feeling that when it came to vengeance, this was a man who could wait. The look in his eyes alone told Tyr that Milon had been betrayed enough times in his young life to let any more treacheries go unpunished. It also told him it had not always been like this. At one point, most likely recently, he had been pushed over the edge. It was not old, ingrained bitterness he could see, it was a freshly wounded soul that would lash out desperately to strive to bring justice where there really could be none.

"It is time we talk," Tyr said.

"I've said all I have to say to you."

Milon turned his face away from him. Stubborn boy. Tyr grabbed his chin lightly but turned his head back firmly enough as to allow no resistance.

"But I have not. You think you know what happened. You are wrong."

"Yeah, sure. You have to say that now, don't you, now that I survived."

"Are you implying that I am afraid of you?"

"Maybe you should be."

Tyr remembered the flash of light, the knife that had been brought to his throat in a heartbeat. This soft-looking, so often smiling young man could have killed him. To forget that would be foolish and arrogant.

"I did not betray you," Tyr said, "I told you to wait for me. You left anyway. Had you only done what I told you, the situation would have been very different. I had a plan."

A realisation was beginning to show on Milon's face at last. He studied Tyr with tired eyes, and Tyr could hear Trance's words repeating in his mind. 'He's an empath' she had said, 'he can read people's feelings'. Was that what he was doing now? 'Reading' Tyr's feelings? Well, good. Then he would know that Tyr was telling the truth. And that he was more than a little uncomfortable with this whole empathy thing.

"So," Milon said, "You didn't sell me out, you just gambled me like a cheap watch. Well, thanks for letting me know, I feel so much better now."

Despite his words, and his sarcastic tone, he looked like he actually did feel better. That cold, sharp look in his eyes had softened somewhat. It did not look like Tyr was the top entry on his death-list anymore.

"I..." Tyr hesitated, why was this so hard? "I am sorry. I should have let you in on the plan. It was... an error."

He almost had to force the apology out. Milon did probably not know what a unique thing he had just received; a Nietzschean admittance of guilt. No, obviously he did not, since he said:

"Well, yeah, you can say that again!"

Tyr gritted his teeth. Milon was still looking at him like he was trying to read his emotions. Then he said:

"Alright, I guess I forgive you then."

"So it is true, what Trance said, that you can sense the feelings of others?"

Tyr thought he could see a faint trace of a smile on Milon's face as he answered:

"Sometimes. Not now though. Too tired."

So he had not been using his ability to tell that Tyr was speaking the truth? Still, he had believed him. He had forgiven him. How strange.

Milon had closed his eyes, his breathing become deeper, slower. He was falling asleep. His right arm, with a transparent tube of intravenous drip attached to it, was sliding off the side of the bed. Tyr caught it carefully, checking that the needle was still safely inserted in the vein. Then something caught his eye. A pale, vertical scar on the inside of the boy's wrist. Tyr frowned. Without waking Milon up, he reached across his chest and picked up his other arm. A similar scar was present on his left wrist. There was no doubt in Tyr's mind of what it meant. Milon stirred a little and opened his eyes.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing."

Tyr dropped his arm and turned away.

"Ah, I get it. Feels like a waste of time saving me now, does it?"

"Frankly, yes," Tyr said coldly.

He was feeling angry. Why would he feel angry? What was it to him if the boy had wished to end his life or not? Disappointment, maybe, he could have understood, but not this sudden urge to grab Milon and shake him. And why did he have to struggle to keep from asking about what had happened? It did not matter; suicide was cowardly and downright inexcusable. He should already be out the door. But he was not.

"You angry?" Milon asked with a hint of amusement to his voice.

Tyr spun around and fixed his eyes on him.

"Angry? I feel nothing but contempt!" he lied.

"Oh, contempt now, is it?"

Milon was actually smiling at him. Somehow it made Tyr furious.

"You find that funny?" he spat, "It amuses you that you have lost any respect I might once have had for you?"

Apparently it did, because Milon smiled even wider. It was a disturbingly kind smile.

"I never knew you cared!"

He chuckled softly.

"You stupid boy! Look at you! You are young, more than healthy; you have these amazing gifts of power! You could have really accomplished something, and still you chose the most... dishonourable, most... spineless way out! What would your parents say if they knew you were responsible for such mindless waste!?"

He was shouting at Milon, letting his anger out. Milon's face was changing now to mirror that anger.

"Will you fuck off!" he screamed, "I told you; I don't have any parents! Weren't you listening? And what do you know about what I could have been? I never had a choice! Any choice I thought I made turned out to be planned by someone else! And when everything, EVERYTHING, is taken away from you just for the sake of entertaining others, how much of a fucking choice do you thing you've left? Yeah, you can stay on your high horse, Tyr, with your warrior's pride or whatever it is you Nietzscheans value so much, but you don't know anything. You can judge me all you like, see if I care."

He turned his face away again, but not before Tyr could see tears in his eyes. Maybe he had been too hard on the boy. Sighing, Tyr pulled up a chair to the side of the bed and sat down.

"You are going to have to start explaining things to me boy."

"I'm not a boy and I don't have to explain anything to you. Why don't you just leave me alone, seeing as I disgust you so much."

"Not you," Tyr said, putting a hand tentatively on his shoulder, "only what you did."

"Will you please not touch me."

Tyr withdrew his hand.

"What is wrong with you boy? You do not want to tell me what happened, yet you expect me to feel sympathy for you? You talk in clues but expect me to understand you?"

"I don't expect anything from you."

"You expected me to be on your side against the Vertexans. You expected me to choose your safety over financial gain. You expected a lot from somebody who owed you nothing and to whom you would give nothing."

There was no anger in Tyr's voice, and none in his heart, not any more. Milon turned and looked at him. There were still tears on his face, but the anger was gone there too.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess I am an ungrateful creep then," he sounded tired, "So, why are you still here? What do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"The truth? I don't even know what that means anymore."

"Tell me what you do know."

Milon took a deep breath. Then he seemed to make his mind up and said:

"Look, I'll only tell this story once. If you think the others want to know... I know Trance does... maybe you should go get them?"

Tyr rose without a word and left to tell the others.

About half an hour later, the whole crew was assembled in the medical facility. Even Rommie's android body was present, which Tyr found to be a bit unnecessary. Milon was sitting up on the bed now, cross-legged and swaddled in a big blanket. He still looked tired, but more than that; nervous.

"Hey, what a turn out!" he said as they stood around silently, waiting for him to tell his story, "Well, I guess I always drew a large audience..."

Tyr thought he could hear a slight trembling to his voice. Nobody said anything, so Milon continued:

"By now I guess you all know that I come from an alternative dimension... and that I'm a Genie. All Genies have abilities that stem from one or more of the six basic elements. Mine are light, as you know, and the empathy belongs to water. The healing thing belongs to light as well... Any questions so far?"

He managed a thin smile. Tyr was sure there were plenty of questions to be asked, but wisely enough nobody decided to interrupt.

"Right... you also know that I've been genetically engineered. But what you don't know is to what extent. What I mean is, usually when you're talking about genetical tinkering it has to do with an unborn baby... they go in and change things such as vulnerability to certain diseases... physical handicaps... things like that. But the person, the basic lot of genes, is still intact. It has some traits from the father, some from the mother... you know."

He took another deep, shuddering breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

"With me, it was different. With me, they didn't just change a couple of things. They... did some sort of cut and paste job on my genes... it's like... instead of inheriting my characteristics from two people, I've inherited things from... probably thousands of different people. I'm completely, totally customised on a genetical level. That's how I really have no biological parents. Or thousands, whichever! They claim they picked the best out of the whole generation... but it wasn't necessarily the best. It was what suited their purposes... they made me for what they were going to use me for. I found this out a week ago."

He paused, letting the information sink in. Still nobody spoke up, just waited for him to continue. Tyr wondered what purpose he was talking about, but he presumed that the story would come to that soon.

"That's why I took off," Milon said, "I tried to kill the woman who… started the project. Made me. Whatever. I went crazy… stole power from my best friend, power of darkness, and it made me insane. I would have killed her, but he stopped me. Pitch stopped me. The next day, I jumped through a channeller. Just punched in some random number and went through. It brought me to this dimension, Earth, not far from where you found me. Before I was hardly even through the veil, those people knocked me out. They must have some kind of Genie sensor… the rest, as they say…"

He looked at the floor, avoiding their eyes. Like he was afraid of what they would think of him. But he had still managed to leave out the most important piece of information. It was clear he was not going to continue of his own accord. It was also clear that none of the others were going to ask him. It was down to Tyr. As always.

"What was the purpose they made you for?" he asked.

Milon looked up, into his eyes, looking absolutely terrified. Nobody said a word. Finally Milon spoke again, almost whispering:

"Tyr, remember when you asked me if I was some kind of terrorist or spy? Well, if I had been, maybe I could've lived with it. I could've understood why they did it… but that wasn't it. I… I'm an actor. I was in this TV series called 'the Traveller'. Very popular show. We went to loads of different dimensions, basically just doing whatever we liked, and they filmed it. In the beginning, there was a script. Then it was kind of like an exploration show… we always managed to get into trouble, or at least do something interesting… And then things went really bad. I died. They brought me back, after ten years in cryo. I tried to escape from the company because I thought I had found a spell that revealed the meaning of life and they were trying to exploit it, sell it to people. Turned out it wasn't really the meaning of life. People died for it. I fought so hard for it… and it wasn't even real. I tried to escape again… ended up in a dimension where I met a woman… there was a war on there. We were captured. Tortured. She was killed. They brought me back home… I couldn't take it anymore, I had a nervous breakdown, and then I found out… that it wasn't real… that they had been planning everything… and filming it. That's what I was made for. Yeah, I was a huge star…"

Milon just sat there, trembling, refusing to look at any of them. He was shivering visibly despite the blanket. The room was so quiet that Tyr could hear heartbeats. A single tear fell from Milon's face down onto the floor. Tyr almost imagined he could hear it land. The things Milon had said were going around in Tyr's head. He understood now what Milon had meant when he had stood in Tyr's room and asked him what he would do if he found out that all he believed in was false. Tyr had faced many hardships in his life, but he had always been safe in the knowledge of who and what he was. Imagine what it must be like to have your whole life ripped from under you like that.

"Uhm," Dylan cleared his throat, "Thank you, Milon, for telling us this. When you feel better, will you come and see me on the command deck, I have an offer I want to discuss with you."

Milon looked up briefly, wiped his eyes and nodded. Dylan left the room with Rommie in tow. Beka went up to Milon, patted him briefly on the shoulder and said:

"Thanks for trusting us. I hope you'll be okay."

Then she left too. Harper looked extremely uncomfortable as he took a couple of quick steps over to Milon and said:

"Um… what can I say? That's a tough break. Man, I can't even imagine… I'll see you later, okay?"

He was gone out the door, looking like he was glad to go. Trance and Tyr exchanged a look that said that neither of them were prepared to leave just yet. Trance walked up to the bed and tried to put her arms around Milon, but he pulled away from her. Could the girl not take a hint? Milon was obviously not interested in her comfort. Milon pushed Trance away gently and said:

"Trance, don't you get it? The only reason you like me is because I'm made to be that way. They did some market research or something and picked out the characteristics that would make me... interesting, or whatever. If people didn't care what happened to me, they wouldn't watch the show! Don't you understand?"

His voice was soft and full of sadness. Slumped down like that, only his white head sticking out of the blanket, he looked younger than ever before. Like a child, almost. Tyr fought an impulse to sit down beside him and put his arm around his shoulders. After all, Milon had asked him not to touch him. Trance was still standing there, just staring at Milon. Then suddenly she twirled around and ran out of the room. Tyr followed her exit with a surprised face.

"You think I hurt her?" Milon asked.

"She will get over it."

Silence.

"Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?" Milon finally asked.

"I do not understand," Tyr said, "Why are you ashamed of what you are? Somebody went to great lengths to ensure that your genetical material was of the best possible quality, and you are ashamed? If you were a Nietzschean you would be regarded as a great asset to your pride, and..." Tyr added in a misdirected bid to cheer him up, "...you would get claimed by lots of females."

"Well, there's only one I want and she's dead," Milon mumbled.

"My condolences. Still, that is no reason to end your own life. It will not bring her back."

"You don't have to do the shrink routine with me Tyr, I'm not suicidal anymore."

He lay back down on the bed, rolled up, making a cocoon out of the blanket. Tyr did not doubt that the boy had been right when he had said that his makers chose his personal traits to inspire affection and care for him in others. There was something about his apparent vulnerability that brought out every deeply hidden fatherly feeling in Tyr. He did not like it, but he had started to realise that fighting the feeling would cause him more grief than accepting it.

"I know what Dylan's going to say to me," Milon said, his eyes already half closed.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, he's going to ask me if I want to stay... what do you think I should do?"

He was asking Tyr? Seemed like the moment to tell the truth had come for Tyr too.

"I think... you could be of benefit to the crew. It is up to you, but my advice would be to... accept the offer."

Milon did not answer, just smiled at him sleepily. Before Tyr had the chance to stop himself, he had reached out and stroked the boy's hair, once. Slightly uneasy about his actions, Tyr abruptly turned around and exited the room without another word.

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