EASE MY MIND
Epilogue: Some Kind of Beautiful



In the end, the true reason for their foolhardy mission into the heart of the Dragon fleet remained their little secret. Dylan hated keeping the secret as much as Beka did, but in the end, as they returned to the safety of the Andromeda, they decided it was for the best. It wasn't a matter of trust. They had survived almost two years together and more apparent betrayals than any of them could ever hope to count. At some point or another, they'd all been guilty. For those reasons, more than any others, they had learned to trust one another, to trust that no matter what outward appearances may project, they were all on the same side in the end.

The decision was a matter of necessity, not trust. The more people who knew that the Engine was more than a rumor and that two parts of it had been reunited, the more danger they were in. Their lives were in a constant state of peril, new missions took them to unexplored and dangerous parts of the universe. They could be captured and tortured, and in the end, one of them might break. The less people who knew, the less chance there was of that happening. The first priority was keeping the Engine safe. Repairing broken trust would have to come later. Much later, Dylan hoped.

They made up a story about rare cargo Beka had salvaged from Centauri, explained its absence by saying that the Dragons had beat them to it after they'd captured the Maru. No one believed them, not fully. After a while, they stopped asking questions. Dylan secured the fragment with its mate in one of Andromeda's most highly guarded storage areas, one where security ensured that even Rommie herself was blind to its contents.

They didn't tell Trance, either. That was probably the hardest part of all. Trance had been a vital part of the recovering of the first fragment.

They had saved the proverbial day. Their mission was accomplished and everyone had survived safe and secure. A new day would come, possibly bringing with it a chance at a third fragment. But Dylan did not rest easy in the days following their return. There was still one very important issue left unresolved.

--~~oo(0)oo~~-- --~~oo(0)oo~~-- --~~oo(0)oo~~--

"You wanted to see me?" Beka asked. Her voice and her sudden appearance in his quarters surprised Dylan, despite the fact that he had, indeed, had Rommie remove her from her duties and ask her to join him. The document he had been drafting with the old-fashioned assistance of a pen and paper, nearly flew from his desk as she startled him.

"I did," he agreed, but couldn't find the words to say anything else. He was too afraid he'd start babbling like an idiot and not be able to stop himself, and that was definitely not how he wanted this to happen.

"So," Beka shrugged, coming into further the room, "what's up?"

"Nothing." He didn't say anything else for a moment because he knew he'd start stammering the moment he tried. He settled for looking up at every beautiful part of her and wondering how he'd ever convinced himself that now was the right time to tell her he had fallen insanely in love with her.

"Feeling better?" He indicated the fading bruise on her cheek, the one put there by Rhylar's assault. Beka nodded, reflexively touching the injury as she did so. She tried to hide the wince, but Dylan saw it all too clearly.

"Mostly I've still got a really bad headache," Beka told him with a light shrug.

"I should have done something before he--"

"Like you knew what he was going to do. Stop beating yourself up over it. If nothing else, it got us out of there faster." Another shrug. "We survived. Look happy."

Dylan tried to, but couldn't, not with the images of Rhylar's assault replaying themselves in his head. Why hadn't he acted faster, done something before Beka could suffer the consequences?

"What?" Beka asked, a hint of uneasiness in her voice. "Dylan, you're staring at me like you've never seen me before."

He hadn't, not really, not until he had seen her face on board the stolen Dragon fighter after he'd spent an miniature eternity fearing her dead. He'd seen her before that, plenty of times, too many to possibly keep track of, but never as he saw her now. She's always been Beka. Who would always come through in a pinch. A fighter. A comrade-in-arms with quick reflexes and an even quicker wit. She'd always been Beka, one of the guys. Never Beka, the woman.

"What?" Beka asked a third time, an almost annoyed exasperation in her voice despite the inquiry in her expression. "Dylan, I hate to be rude, but I really do have things to do. Whatever it is, just spit it out. You know me well enough to know there's nothing in the universe that could freak me out."

Except, possibly, for the one thing he was about to say.

"I--"

What was it with the lack of words? He'd been educated at one of the best universities in the known worlds and he couldn't even string three monosyllabic words together.

"You?" Beka prompted.

"Oh, the hell with it," Dylan heard himself say. He closed the gap between him and caught her by the arms, pulling her into a kiss. Beka's body went rigid, but her lips melted into his. She returned the passion, but only for a moment, until her mouth caught up with the rest of her body's reaction.

"Woah!" She slipped out of his embrace, her flushed expression somewhere between outraged, amused and amazed. She was laughing, mostly in disbelief. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" He asked, again at an almost utter loss for words, this time for an entirely different reason. This was not the response he'd expected, the mutual declaration he'd built himself up for.

Beka was staring at him as though he'd grown a third arm and wings. "That--" At a loss for words herself, she pointed rapidly back and forth between them. "That thing you just did. That with the lips and the-- What was that?"

"It's a kiss," he heard himself say. "Surely, you've had one before." He fought the urge to smack himself. Could he have said anything more stupid or less appropriate?

"Of course." Awkwardly, Beka planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "It's just, you know, you, and me and, yeah. No exactly what I was expecting there."

"I'm sorry," Dylan said. He didn't know what else to say. "I--," he turned, looking for an out. "I'm pretty sure I have things to do."

"You probably do."

He couldn't make himself move. "See you."

Neither could Beka. "Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

He couldn't possibly undo the last two minutes of his life. He also knew he couldn't do anything that would remotely diffuse the tension that hung between them. He'd just thrown any chance they had of maintaining their friendship out the cargo doors. Things had officially gotten weird. With an utterly defeated sigh, he turned to go.

"Although I'll tell you one thing."

Dylan turned back, half-dreading to hear what that one thing might be. Despite Beka's awkward but beaming smile, he could not disguise his apprehension.

"What?" he asked uneasily. He'd already ruined everything that had ever been or could ever be between them. Why press the issue?

Beka's smile widened. She laughed softly. "If that's the kind of welcome home I get, I think I'm gonna go missing a lot more often."

"Promise?" he asked.

The full smile softened to a wicked grin. "Oh, yeah."

Still laughing, she caught up to him, clapping his back as she turned him and propelled him out the doorway. Her hand slipped around his waist as they walked and Dylan, by now grinning himself, draped an arm across her shoulders.

They walked like that the rest of the way to the command deck.

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The end.
APM

Ladies and gentlemen, my first-ever fan fiction.

Possible sequel. I have a few ideas. And there are three fragments left. Let me know what you think of this one first. Love reviews. Love e-mail.