Author's Note: Beka and Tristan haven't had that much interaction. They'll
get to bond a little more in this chapter. Enjoy.
Chapter 6
The first weak with Tristan on boarded past without much incidents. He spent much of his time with Rhade or Beka, and when both of his guardians were on duty, he was with Harper in the machine shop. At first, both Beka and Rhade were absolutely against it. Nothing personal against Harper himself, but the machine shop with high tech and often dangerous equipment was no place for a child. It took a lot of pleading from Tristan and arguing from Harper, but in the end it was Trance's sound logic that settled the issue. The golden alien had pointed out that as senior officers, both Telemachus and Beka had long, often overlapping, shifts and duties to take care of. At least with Harper, Tristan had a chance to learn something instead of killing time in command.
During their time in the machine shop, Harper and Tristan truly bonded, nearly like one would expect siblings to. It wasn't at all hard considering that the two had a common background of bloody abusive lives in slavery. They came together, each bound by a tragic past that they never spoke of. Their time together was mostly spent with Harper telling the boy stories from ancient Earth. He started with a few fairy tales but quickly discovered that Tristan had absolutely no interest in the "Three Little Pigs" or "Peter Pan." What Harper hadn't taken into account was that Tristan was half Nietzschean and at a mental age that was far beyond fairy tales. So Harper downloaded several flexes of mythology and while he worked, regaled Tristan with stories of gods and heroes. The child loved them and listened with attentive fascination.
Trouble started a little over a weak after Tristan arrived on bored the Andromeda. In the beginning he slept silently, without dreams or nightmares. He would just close his eyes and slip into a black void of darkness. It wasn't the most restful of slumbers, but at least he wasn't haunted by the past. Telemachus, blessed with enhanced hearing and a soldier's intuition, was aware of everything that went on in his quarters even through sleep. If Tristan were to toss and turn or wake up suddenly, the adult Nietzschean would know immediately. Which is why, at three hours into the time when they should have both been sleeping, Telemachus was concerned to find himself standing over the child's empty bed. He could smell the sweat soaking the tangled sheets. There was also a strong scent of fear lingering in the air.
"Tristan?" a note of concern rose in Rhade's voice. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon a small shadow in the corner. He walked towards it and saw Tristan huddled in the corner, knees tucked tightly to his body arms around himself. The boy's eyes were wide in fear, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, but he didn't make a sound. All Rhade could detect was faint intakes of breath.
"Tristan," he called again more gently. "Child, you're having a nightmare." Without thinking of the consequences, Telemachus reached out to touch the boy's shoulder in a sign of comfort. His reaction was so violent that Rhade drew back instantly. Tristan flared his arms to bat the hand away as quickly as possible.
"Don't touch me," he whispered. "I'll be good, I promise. Just don't touch me."
"All right," Telemachus nodded, now convinced that Tristan was sleepwalking through a nightmare. He was afraid something like this would happen, but had never encountered a situation like this. Fortunately there was someone who would know what to do. "I'll be right back, child."
He got up and, without bothering to change out of his tight black night-shorts, padded bare foot towards the door and out into the hallway. Luckily all the senior officers' quarters were located close to one another and it didn't take him long to reach Beka's room. However before he could knock on the door, it slid open and Telemachus found himself face to face with the blond first officer, fully awake and also out of uniform. Beka cleared her throat, slightly embraced, and tightened the sash of her cream colored silk rob.
"I know this is stupid, but I had a bad feeling," she admitted. "Is Tristan okay?"
Telemachus raised an eyebrow. "You must be developing mother's intuition. No, Tristan is not all right and I need your help."
Without further questions, Beka followed him back to his quarters. Upon seeing Tristan huddled in the corner, Beka had a sudden déjà vu of the Maru and Harper years ago. She kneeled down by the frightened boy, careful not to invade his space too much. Tristan didn't dare look at her. Where he came from, meeting someone's eyes meant defiance, which was severally punishable. Rhade towered over both of them, a silent observer.
"Kid," Beka called to Tristan firmly. She knew that at this state, the boy wouldn't even remember his new name, much less respond to it. "Kid, look at me."
He glanced up for a split second than lowered his eyes once more. Beka was patient and persistent. She knew how to fight these battles well. "I won't hurt you, kid, but you have to look at me."
Ever so slowly, Tristan raised his tear streaked face to meat her gaze. For a moment, Rhade thought he saw a spark of recognition in the child's eyes, but it was quickly replaced once more with fear.
"I'll be good," Tristan whimpered again. He sounded so hurt that Telemachus could feel his own insides twist into a painful knot. Beka paid no attention and continued.
"I know you'll be good," she said. "You're a good kid. I won't hurt you. See." She held out her hands palms up in a gesture demonstrating that she had no weapons. Tristan seemed to understand that, and his tight firsts seemed to relax ever so slightly. Beka decided be a little bolder. "Do you know who I am?"
Tristan sniffed a little. "An angel?"
"No," Beka smiled patiently. "Why would you think that?"
"Because everyone else hurts me," the boy replied, "but angels are nice. And pretty. You haven't hurt me, so you must be an angel."
"I'm not," she told him. "But you're right; I won't hurt you. No one will hurt you ever again. Come here, baby." She extended her arms to him, wondering if he was ready to accept comfort by physical touch. Telemachus was also quite curious to see what would happen. So far Beka had handled the situation very well.
Tristan wrinkled his nose as fresh tears formed in his eyes, then slowly rose to his feet and climbed into Beka's outstretched arms. The woman cradled the sobbing child to her chest, softly cooing to him as she rocked his shaking form. Tristan was fully awake now but so frightened by the nightmare that he kept sobbing, clinging to Beka as if she was his last lifeline. She stoked his dark curls then reached out to feel his forehead, which was warm. The hysterics brought on by the nightmare had worked him into a slight fever.
Still holding Tristan, Beka turned over her shoulder. "Rhade, go into the bathroom and bring me a wet washcloth. Cool water, but not too cold." Telemachus disappeared into the bathroom to emerge a second later. Beka took the cloth from him with a "thank you" and placed it over the boy's forehead. The cool water seemed to calm Tristan down a little more, and Beka moved them both to the child's bed. She sat down on the edge and waited until he was asleep again, before gently placing him down on the bed and pulling the covers over his small form. Even in sleep, Tristan didn't want to let go of her. Beka gently pulled her hand away and stood up with a deep sigh.
"Well done," came a voice from behind her. She'd been so focused on the child that she'd nearly forgotten all about Telemachus. "He seems fine now. You did a very impressive job."
"From experience, I guess," she replied. "I've had my share of sleepless nights with Harper's nightmares."
Telemachus nodded in understanding. It was really quite lucky for all of them, especially Tristan, that Beka knew how to handle such cases. He regarded her for a moment. After all the times they've been in battle and other life-or-death situations, this was the first time he'd seen her truly worried and shaken.
"I don't suppose either of us will be sleeping after this," he said. "Why don't we get some coffee?"
"What about..." Beka glanced back at Tristan.
"Andromeda will tell us if he has a relapse," Telemachus assured her. "Besides, you look like you need a break."
Chapter 6
The first weak with Tristan on boarded past without much incidents. He spent much of his time with Rhade or Beka, and when both of his guardians were on duty, he was with Harper in the machine shop. At first, both Beka and Rhade were absolutely against it. Nothing personal against Harper himself, but the machine shop with high tech and often dangerous equipment was no place for a child. It took a lot of pleading from Tristan and arguing from Harper, but in the end it was Trance's sound logic that settled the issue. The golden alien had pointed out that as senior officers, both Telemachus and Beka had long, often overlapping, shifts and duties to take care of. At least with Harper, Tristan had a chance to learn something instead of killing time in command.
During their time in the machine shop, Harper and Tristan truly bonded, nearly like one would expect siblings to. It wasn't at all hard considering that the two had a common background of bloody abusive lives in slavery. They came together, each bound by a tragic past that they never spoke of. Their time together was mostly spent with Harper telling the boy stories from ancient Earth. He started with a few fairy tales but quickly discovered that Tristan had absolutely no interest in the "Three Little Pigs" or "Peter Pan." What Harper hadn't taken into account was that Tristan was half Nietzschean and at a mental age that was far beyond fairy tales. So Harper downloaded several flexes of mythology and while he worked, regaled Tristan with stories of gods and heroes. The child loved them and listened with attentive fascination.
Trouble started a little over a weak after Tristan arrived on bored the Andromeda. In the beginning he slept silently, without dreams or nightmares. He would just close his eyes and slip into a black void of darkness. It wasn't the most restful of slumbers, but at least he wasn't haunted by the past. Telemachus, blessed with enhanced hearing and a soldier's intuition, was aware of everything that went on in his quarters even through sleep. If Tristan were to toss and turn or wake up suddenly, the adult Nietzschean would know immediately. Which is why, at three hours into the time when they should have both been sleeping, Telemachus was concerned to find himself standing over the child's empty bed. He could smell the sweat soaking the tangled sheets. There was also a strong scent of fear lingering in the air.
"Tristan?" a note of concern rose in Rhade's voice. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon a small shadow in the corner. He walked towards it and saw Tristan huddled in the corner, knees tucked tightly to his body arms around himself. The boy's eyes were wide in fear, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, but he didn't make a sound. All Rhade could detect was faint intakes of breath.
"Tristan," he called again more gently. "Child, you're having a nightmare." Without thinking of the consequences, Telemachus reached out to touch the boy's shoulder in a sign of comfort. His reaction was so violent that Rhade drew back instantly. Tristan flared his arms to bat the hand away as quickly as possible.
"Don't touch me," he whispered. "I'll be good, I promise. Just don't touch me."
"All right," Telemachus nodded, now convinced that Tristan was sleepwalking through a nightmare. He was afraid something like this would happen, but had never encountered a situation like this. Fortunately there was someone who would know what to do. "I'll be right back, child."
He got up and, without bothering to change out of his tight black night-shorts, padded bare foot towards the door and out into the hallway. Luckily all the senior officers' quarters were located close to one another and it didn't take him long to reach Beka's room. However before he could knock on the door, it slid open and Telemachus found himself face to face with the blond first officer, fully awake and also out of uniform. Beka cleared her throat, slightly embraced, and tightened the sash of her cream colored silk rob.
"I know this is stupid, but I had a bad feeling," she admitted. "Is Tristan okay?"
Telemachus raised an eyebrow. "You must be developing mother's intuition. No, Tristan is not all right and I need your help."
Without further questions, Beka followed him back to his quarters. Upon seeing Tristan huddled in the corner, Beka had a sudden déjà vu of the Maru and Harper years ago. She kneeled down by the frightened boy, careful not to invade his space too much. Tristan didn't dare look at her. Where he came from, meeting someone's eyes meant defiance, which was severally punishable. Rhade towered over both of them, a silent observer.
"Kid," Beka called to Tristan firmly. She knew that at this state, the boy wouldn't even remember his new name, much less respond to it. "Kid, look at me."
He glanced up for a split second than lowered his eyes once more. Beka was patient and persistent. She knew how to fight these battles well. "I won't hurt you, kid, but you have to look at me."
Ever so slowly, Tristan raised his tear streaked face to meat her gaze. For a moment, Rhade thought he saw a spark of recognition in the child's eyes, but it was quickly replaced once more with fear.
"I'll be good," Tristan whimpered again. He sounded so hurt that Telemachus could feel his own insides twist into a painful knot. Beka paid no attention and continued.
"I know you'll be good," she said. "You're a good kid. I won't hurt you. See." She held out her hands palms up in a gesture demonstrating that she had no weapons. Tristan seemed to understand that, and his tight firsts seemed to relax ever so slightly. Beka decided be a little bolder. "Do you know who I am?"
Tristan sniffed a little. "An angel?"
"No," Beka smiled patiently. "Why would you think that?"
"Because everyone else hurts me," the boy replied, "but angels are nice. And pretty. You haven't hurt me, so you must be an angel."
"I'm not," she told him. "But you're right; I won't hurt you. No one will hurt you ever again. Come here, baby." She extended her arms to him, wondering if he was ready to accept comfort by physical touch. Telemachus was also quite curious to see what would happen. So far Beka had handled the situation very well.
Tristan wrinkled his nose as fresh tears formed in his eyes, then slowly rose to his feet and climbed into Beka's outstretched arms. The woman cradled the sobbing child to her chest, softly cooing to him as she rocked his shaking form. Tristan was fully awake now but so frightened by the nightmare that he kept sobbing, clinging to Beka as if she was his last lifeline. She stoked his dark curls then reached out to feel his forehead, which was warm. The hysterics brought on by the nightmare had worked him into a slight fever.
Still holding Tristan, Beka turned over her shoulder. "Rhade, go into the bathroom and bring me a wet washcloth. Cool water, but not too cold." Telemachus disappeared into the bathroom to emerge a second later. Beka took the cloth from him with a "thank you" and placed it over the boy's forehead. The cool water seemed to calm Tristan down a little more, and Beka moved them both to the child's bed. She sat down on the edge and waited until he was asleep again, before gently placing him down on the bed and pulling the covers over his small form. Even in sleep, Tristan didn't want to let go of her. Beka gently pulled her hand away and stood up with a deep sigh.
"Well done," came a voice from behind her. She'd been so focused on the child that she'd nearly forgotten all about Telemachus. "He seems fine now. You did a very impressive job."
"From experience, I guess," she replied. "I've had my share of sleepless nights with Harper's nightmares."
Telemachus nodded in understanding. It was really quite lucky for all of them, especially Tristan, that Beka knew how to handle such cases. He regarded her for a moment. After all the times they've been in battle and other life-or-death situations, this was the first time he'd seen her truly worried and shaken.
"I don't suppose either of us will be sleeping after this," he said. "Why don't we get some coffee?"
"What about..." Beka glanced back at Tristan.
"Andromeda will tell us if he has a relapse," Telemachus assured her. "Besides, you look like you need a break."