WARNING: This was written prior to watching "Phear Phactor Phenom". When that episode shows, this story will probably be placed firmly into the "AU"/completely-against-canon category.
AUTHOR: Kristen Kilar
TITLE: Shattered
RATING: PG, for minor language and rather fatalistic themes. No pairings.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Andromeda or its characters. I make no claims to anything here; the thoughts are Harper's, I just listened to him and put them down. Please don't sue me. I don't own anything but a couple pictures of Gordon Michael Woolvett and some Cherry Coke.
ARCHIVE: Just ask, I'd love to give permission.
SUMMARY: Three freakin' years spent on Seefra with the technophobes.
SPOILERS: "The Dissonant Interval 2" through "Phear Phactor Phenom"…er…which I haven't actually seen. (See Author's Notes) Some back references but nothing major. "Bunker Hill" is referenced, I think.
PAIRINGS: None.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, I've been waiting way too long for my Harper, and today he just showed up unannounced and demanded that I write this down. I haven't seen "Phear Phactor Phenom" (although I hate the title), but I've seen the promos, so this is all based on my interpretation of spoilers and way too many assumptions, including assumptions about a character I've never met (Doyle). Erm…I guess come Friday I'll find out how wrong I was. Oh, and I'm assuming that the events of "The Weight" Parts 1 & 2 and "Phear Phactor Phenom" take place over about a week. I'm probably wrong about that too, but that doesn't really matter to the story.
Dedicated to Myna, a.k.a. niki, a.k.a. girl from the rockshow, a.k.a. whatever other aliases she's picked up recently, for being my beta.
And to everybody who reviewed part 1:
DF: Yes, I do talk in tangents…I can't help it.
Mulder's Girl: Thank you! It means a lot to me to know that other people think I got in there.
boboskiwatin: Thanks, and here is some more…just because you asked. ;-)
midnytekat3: Harper's the greatest part of Andromeda and anyone who says differently is evil. The show needs to delve deeper into him.
lenny: Thank you!
Mary Rose: So you're bitter, too, huh? Thank you.
Echo24: Well, this isn't quite the sequel you asked for, but it is more angst. Enjoy. Please?
Nureek: Wow! I'm so flattered to get this from the author of "Survival Instincts". Uh, do you think the show would let me go write for them?
shelly belly: Thank you!
Harper's Pixie: Yes, the show really needs to pay attention to Harper scheming back there in the shadows, or he might strike when they least expect it…
B.L.A. the Mouse: Thanks. Just…thanks.
Nah: Uh…love you for reviewing it?
And dedicated to the Harperchondriacs, who convinced me to post this.
I'm posting this on EI as a standalone and on FFN as the second part of "Hidden". It can be read either way. I think. Please please please review?
You may have figured out by now that I write mostly introspective one-shots from Harper's POV. I am, however, working on a multi-chapter story with an actual plot…if it ever amounts to anything, I'll post it, but my muse tends to be very mean.
shameless plug mode If you haven't already, go read the first part of "Hidden" and my other one-shot, "My Kind Of Rain". /shameless plug mode
Now Harper is getting impatient and I've got way too many author's notes, so on to the story.
Broken.
I overheard Beka and Rhade talking about me.
Rhade asked Beka if she thought…
If she thought Rommie's destruction…
If she thought Rommie's destruction had broken me.
Broken.
I wanted to break in on their conversation.
Tell them I'm not broken.
But I didn't.
Walked on.
Broken, you see.
Broken doesn't begin to describe me.
Six letters.
Six little letters.
Any word to describe me should have dozens of letters.
Maybe every letter in every alphabet ever invented.
I can think of a couple Vedran words that come close.
Lots of Xs and Zs.
Broken isn't long enough or strong enough or final enough.
But I've been sitting here.
Rummaging through my vocabulary.
Trying to find a word in Common that comes closer than broken.
Crushed, maybe.
Destroyed.
Utterly annihilated.
Ruined.
Splintered.
Smashed into tiny, almost invisible shards.
But not broken, no, not broken.
They can't understand.
They won't understand.
See, I was standing there.
Talking to her.
She had just killed the Magog.
I thought she was fine.
I was sure she was fine.
We were fine.
We were gonna go out there and kill the Magog and win.
Because the good guys always win, right?
But life ain't a sappy holo-vid like Beka used to pretend she didn't watch.
I saw the look on her face.
I knew she wasn't fine.
"No," I said. Like I could stop it from happening by wanting it not to happen.
Life has never worked that way for me.
"Stay safe, Harper," she whispered.
And she was gone.
Just like that.
In a heartbeat.
In my heartbeat.
That was three years ago.
Three years.
One month.
Two weeks.
And four days.
And I.
Remember.
Everything.
Every detail of her face.
Every detail of that stupid room.
The smell of machinery, and Magog fur, and burnt flesh, and melting plastic and metal, and the Commonwealth soaps she used.
The sound of whirring machines and ventilations units and the Magog attacks going on and Rommie's own malfunctioning mechanisms.
The bitter, acrylic taste to the air.
Or maybe that was my own pain.
Whichever.
Point is, my memory hasn't glossed over a single detail.
I remember it all.
Everything went to hell after Rommie died.
I tried to keep it all together.
I really did.
I had work to do.
Get Arkology to slipstream.
Besides, Trance's gloom-and-doom prediction had me convinced that I would die on Arkology.
I could handle that.
That would make sense.
Saying goodbye to Beka—
That alone nearly killed me.
"You said it would be fun. Well, Seamus? It was."
And then I was alone.
And then the Magog came.
And I thought I would die there.
And you know what?
I was okay with that.
But instead I ended up here.
On Seefra.
For three. Freakin'. Years.
In hell.
But, see, I grew up in hell.
A different hell, yes.
But only different in details.
The landscape's the same.
It's still hell.
And I know how to survive in hell.
Only I couldn't do it alone.
More accurately, I didn't want to.
I was trapped in hell.
With no foreseeable way out.
With no work, nothing to do to keep my mind off my pain.
Alone.
So I built Doyle.
I was careful.
Made sure no one could tell she was an android.
The locals don't like technology, you see.
And I made sure that, aside from being female and humanoid, she was nothing like Rommie.
Because nobody could ever replace her.
Doyle wasn't Rommie.
But she was Doyle.
That was good enough.
She was kind to me.
She helped me as I came up with things to do to keep busy.
She talked to me and kept me sane. Ish.
She was my friend.
I needed that.
Doyle isn't like Rommie.
Except she's beautiful.
Except she kicks ass.
Except she's so smart.
Except she loves me—not romantic love, God forbid, but love nonetheless.
Other than that, they're nothing alike.
I should probably go check in with her.
Go talk to her.
I wonder how she's doing with everybody?
I wonder how I'm doing with everybody?
Everything's changed.
Everybody's changed.
I've changed.
I'm not the same Seamus Harper they knew.
Three.
Years.
And I have to deal with my dead friends, my late loved ones, risen from the grave again.
Beka, who's spent barely seven months since the Arkology incident.
I hate temporal mechanics, by the way. I get trapped in Dante's Inferno for three years, and she gets seven months?!
Anyway. Tangent.
Beka seems to have lost all loyalties in seveb months.
All faith.
Not that I blame her for that.
But she doesn't trust anyone anymore, me included, and she's always trusted me.
Well, not always, but for a very long time.
I still love her dearly, I always will, but she's not really my Beka anymore, and I have to be wary of her now, and that hurts.
Then there's Rhade.
Nine months.
Man, those nine months turned him bitter.
Cynical.
And alcoholic, which makes me laugh a little.
Nietzscheans aren't supposed to become alcoholic.
They're supposed to be above addictions.
Supposed to be superior.
But then, Rhade's an enlightened Nietzschean.
Ha.
Ha.
Wanna know a secret?
I find it a little easier to tolerate him now that his shiny wide-eyed newness has worn off.
I understand him a little better.
He amuses me, kinda.
And he doesn't piss me off quite as often.
I don't trust him any farther than I can throw him.
But I tolerate him.
Trance.
Trance I don't know what to make of.
Not that that's a new development.
Trance I think doesn't know what to make of me and Doyle.
She's confused and I think a little scared.
Splotchy memory or something.
And me and Doyle are the newest additions so she's confused and scared by us most of all.
Right now, Trance ranks threat on my alarm systems, because confused and scared beings with awesome powers are dangerous.
Dylan…
One.
Week.
I get three years and he gets one week?
Yeah, well, the universe isn't fair, Seamus, hasn't your life taught you that?
But he hasn't changed at all.
And I want to hurt him for it.
He's still the same smug, self-righteous, hypocritical jerk who doesn't see that the universe doesn't exist solely for his benefit or for his manipulation.
And I can't stand it.
Somehow in three years, without changing at all, he's gone from being one of My Own, one of my family, one of the people I'd kill to protect, to being this creep I can't stand to be around, who I'd be fine with watching die.
Maybe that's my fault.
Maybe that's because I've changed.
But it's still there.
And then.
And then there's Andromeda.
Who I've been avoiding.
In her different incarnations.
The others don't understand.
Except Doyle.
I know Doyle understands why I'm avoiding Andromeda.
But then, I told Doyle a lot about Andromeda.
I love Andromeda deeply, I do.
But it hurts.
Because she looks so much like Rommie, sounds so much like Rommie.
But she's not Rommie.
That's what they don't get.
See, Andromeda and Holo-Andromeda, and Rommie, they're all different people.
Similar, but not the same.
Sisters, maybe.
Three sides to the same coin, which doesn't work unless we're using Than currency.
The others don't get that they aren't the same person.
That it hurts to see Andromeda and remember Rommie dying before my eyes.
"Stay safe, Harper."
It hurts, remembering Rommie's death, because it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Everybody I've lost over my whole life.
And then Rommie, who I thought I'd never lose because androids live for thousands of years.
I couldn't take it anymore.
Rommie went with me to Earth, you know?
And I told Brendan about her. Told him how we were saving the universe, me and her. He smiled a little sadly.
"Yeah, well, just remember what you're saving it for. Her. Her and all that's good in the world."
Rommie was all that's good in the world.
The problem isn't that I loved her.
The problem is that I love her, present tense.
She described to me once a problem she had, that no organic language had the words to describe the relationship between a ship and her engineer. I know what she meant.
Rommie was my life, my daughter, my lover, my mother, my ship—it's impossible to explain.
I love her, and I can't stand that I lost her.
That's what I did what I did, you see.
Not that they understand. They think I did it because I went crazy.
But you know, I could've handled her death, maybe, if I'd had Beka to fall back on.
But I didn't.
And everything went to hell.
Three. Years.
I'm not the same person, I don't trust my friends, I can't face someone I love and adore, and I think I've gone a little bit crazy in three years, just a little.
Does that mean I'm broken?
No. Not broken.
Devastated.
Demolished.
Fragmented.
Shattered.
Yeah. That works. That comes pretty close. It's not long enough, but…
That's me.
Shattered.
-SZH