Beka slid her chair closer to Harper's bed. Gently, she began to stroke his blonde hair, now wet with sweat. His normally light skin somehow managed to invent a new color of pale. His chest rose and fell slowly with long pauses in between that made Beka fear he'd stopped breathing. She touched his cheek, feeling the heat radiating from the fever. Harper's body shuddered. Beka took his hand. "Harper, can you hear me?" Beka asked. A moan escaped from Harper's lips. She stroked his cheek again, ignoring the heat. "Come on, wake up." Harper's head moved toward the sound of Beka's voice. His eyes fluttered, taking an enormous amount of energy until they finally opened. He stared at her, but for a few agonizing seconds Beka felt he didn't recognize her at all. His eyes, normally a sparkling sapphire blue had dulled to a sickly gray. "Beka." he whispered, smiling. Even the fever couldn't destroy his smile. "Hey, Harper, how're you feeling?" she asked. It was a stupid question to ask a sick person, but it was always the first question out of her mouth when he was ill. "I feel great. Think I'll go a few rounds with Tyr once Trance releases me," Harper joked. Beka chuckled. Minutes passed and all they could do was look at each other. Years of memories flooding both their minds; some good, some bad. Beka couldn't stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. Harper frowned. He wanted nothing more then to wipe her tears away, make her feel better, but all his concentration was focused on keeping his eyes open despite his desire to sleep. Beka needed him right now. "Hey, heard any good jokes lately?" he asked. Beka laughed. She didn't want to but she couldn't help it. Still crying, she managed to reduce the laughter to a grin. "No, can't say that I have," she answered. "Probably best," Harper said. "Why's that?" Beka asked. "Hurts when I laugh," Harper said, grimacing. Beka squeezed his hand. She felt him squeeze back. "Well, I haven't heard any new jokes.but I do have a story," she said. "Yeah?" Harper asked, his voice sounding weaker. "Yeah. Wanna hear it?" she asked. "Okay," Harper said. "Well, once upon a time, there was a beautiful captain of a small freighter," Beka began. Harper smiled. "And, for a fair amount of years, she flew around the galaxies running cargo and salvage for various employers, all on her own. Then, one day, she met a little mudfoot from Earth and after a few regretful incidents with the captain's ex-boyfriend." Harper rolled his eyes, "she decided to keep the mudfoot on her ship. Turns out he was a pretty good engineer." "Pretty good?" Harper interjected. "All right, he was a genius. Anyway, they stayed together on the little freighter - the captain and the engineer - and took care of each other. No matter how many other crewmembers came and went, they were always constant. Their tentative relationship became friendship and their friendship turned them into family. The captain couldn't imagine her life without the engineer and she never wanted to. And whether they were running salvage or restoring a dead government, she always knew they'd be together. The End," Beka said. Harper took in a deep breath, his eyes beginning to droop. "That's a great story, Beka," he said. "But you left out the best part." "What's that?" she asked. "You left out the part where those years on the freighter with the beautiful captain were the happiest years of the little mudfoot's life. He cherished every moment with her, good or bad. And he vowed that for the rest of his life, he'd try to show her that taking him on wasn't a mistake," Harper said, tears slipping down his face. Beka wiped away his tears. "You were never a mistake, Seamus. You are the best thing to ever happen to me," she said. She felt him squeeze her hand. "Ditto," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed, grimacing from a wave of pain. He looked at Beka, his eyes bright with tears. "Beka." Beka heard the tone of his voice when he said her name. Her heart nearly stopped at the implications of one word. "No, Harper, don't you do that. Don't you say your goodbyes! Not yet. It's not time. We don't get to say goodbye until we're old and gray. You hear me, Harper?" Beka said, her voice angry that he would even think of saying goodbye. Harper nodded, his eyes only thin slits staring back at her. "Okay, boss," he whispered. "Promise me, Harper. Promise me you'll fight," Beka insisted. "Promise," Harper said. His eyes closed completely. Beka placed her fingers on his neck, feeling his pulse. She didn't care about the heart monitors; she needed to know for herself. "He's sleeping, Beka," Andromeda said, her hologram appearing on the other side of the bed. "He can't die, Andromeda. He just can't," Beka said. Andromeda wished she were solid so she could give some comfort to Beka. "I know," she said.

* * *

Trance stood next to the innocent looking flower. She wore a bio- filter mask to keep from breathing in the pollen. Taking her scissors, she carefully clipped the three pollen pods from the flower. Immediately, she transferred them into a portable spectrograph Rommie had brought from one of the machine shops. "How long will it take, Rommie?" Trance asked. "Not very long," Rommie responded. "You can take the mask off." "Sorry, I'm a little cautious," Trance said, removing the mask. "I'd always heard stories of this flower. No one survives." "We'll save Harper, Trance," Rommie said. Trance nodded. "Rommie, why is it no one else has started feeling sick? The pollen must have become air born," Trance said. "My filtration systems are far more advanced than the Nietzschean ship. Any pollen that did become air born would have either been picked up by filters or vented into the CO2 tanks," Rommie said. "And the Nietzschean vessel has a recyclable filtration system, right?" Trance asked. "When the pollen entered the ventilated atmosphere of the Nietzschean vessel, it was continually redistributed into the air. The Nietzscheans were always breathing it in," Rommie said. The spectrograph beeped loudly, indicating it was done with its analysis. Rommie closed her eyes, downloading the information. "Rommie?" Trance asked. "There's a cure," Rommie said. "Then let's go," Trance said. She stopped, gazing at the flower. "Make sure it's burned."