Chapter 15
"To be deceived by our enemies or betrayed by our friends is insupportable;
yet by ourselves we are often content to be so treated."
-Francois De La Rochefoucauld
Tyr's progress, considering the trauma his body had gone through, was undoubtedly going to take longer than Beka's had. Nevertheless, Drago Museveni's achievements in genetics allowed for rapid healing in his race of walking, talking science experiments, and when Tyr awoke on Med Deck only twelve hours after having undergone the procedure, Harper was not terribly surprised.
In fact, he had been in the room when the Nietzschean opened his eyes for the first time in days. Not that Harper had been sitting by his bedside anxiously waiting or anything. To be honest he'd decided that holding vigil was probably the last thing Tyr would have wanted and had instead decided to accompany Beka to her quarters.
He'd gone into her bathroom to get some water so she could take her pain meds, but when he returned ten seconds later glass in hand, Beka was sprawled out on her bed, dead to the world. Leaving her in peace he went back to his domain of the ship. The workshop. He'd wanted to sleep like both Beka and Dylan were doing, and while his bunk in the shop called to him like the most tempting of sirens, sleep eluded him. Sleep mocked him. The bastard.
Hours later he was still having the same bout of insomnia. So instead of dreaming, he tinkered for a while with some of his gadgets. He also in that time tried and failed to read three different holostories. He just felt so… he couldn't explain it. The word malaise came to mind. Just an all-purpose feeling of sickness and discomfort he couldn't seem to place. Yep, that seemed to sum it all up for him. It was also exceedingly cold in the workshop even though he had the heat up. He'd made a mental note to have Rommie check the workshop's thermostat when she had a chance.
Eventually the adrenaline of the past day began to wear and as the night progressed into early morning, his wrist began to hurt again. First a slow build of simple ache, then eventually a shooting pain that resonated through the tips of his fingers up to his elbow. The time had finally come to see Trance.
His walk to Med Deck had been hesitant. As much as his hand hurt, he wasn't looking forward to his friend going all doctor on him. Thank the Devine she wasn't a dentist by trade. He'd be downright terrified.
When he arrived at his destination he'd found himself alone. A quick search by Andromeda revealed that Trance had gone to check on Beka. Harper decided to wait for her and slid onto the other unoccupied medbed next to Tyr. The Kodiak was off the breathing and dialysis machine now and medical nanobots were running through his system repairing the internal damage. Trance was expecting him to awake sometime the next day. Tyr, never one to follow directions, had of course decided otherwise.
The first sign of consciousness was a low groan. Harper hadn't really been looking Tyr's direction, but the soft noise quickly drew the engineer's attention. He jumped from his perch, his wrist again forgotten, and came to stand next to the other bed.
"Tyr?" he asked cautiously. Another groan. "Andromeda! Get Trance!" Harper called, a part of him sure that the ship had already sensed Tyr's impending awakening.
Wearily an eyelid opened to reveal the dark brown iris underneath. The other was quick to follow. Tyr might be drugged out of the preverbal gills, but he wasn't one to let that stand in his way.
"Mmfp," he growled grumpily. "Fmmp."
"Ah, Big Guy, I love you too," Harper purred. "But you know we can't. It's illegal in a dozen systems."
Those dark eyes suddenly became a lot more clearer with life. Seamus smiled.
"--fessor."
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Tyr. I thought you were going to sleep all day."
"Wha--t?
"Happened? Well you see, you got a little too drunk at the annual Christmas party…"
"B-boy."
Harper smiled again. "Sorry. Old habits."
Again Tyr's eyes changed, this time in what Harper could only describe as slight surprise, as if he'd just figured something out. Or realized that the human next to him wasn't babbling like crazy idiot and having tea parties with the bulkhead.
"You were… insane," Tyr murmured, his first real sentence since he'd opened his eyes.
"I got better," Harper defensively retorted. "Besides, insane is as insane--"
"Tyr!" Trance interrupted his retort as she entered the deck. Harper backed up and let the ex-purple alien examine him. She checked his temperature, heart rate, eyes, even the newly healing wound on his forearm. When she seemed content that he was stable she put a hand on his. "Glad to have you back," Trance said, her smile radiant.
She helped Tyr sit up and raised the back of the bed to support him. He still seemed a bit groggy, but was doing better than any of them could have hoped.
"What do you last remember?" Trance asked.
Tyr frowned in thought. "Visiting the Professor on Sinti. He went to attack Beka and I restrained him. We went back to the ship afterwards and I began feeling ill." He shook his head. "Nothing after that. How long have I been unconscious?"
"Almost five standard days," Trance answered.
The Nietzschean seemed genuinely surprised by that. "Five? How unwell was I?"
Trance smiled wearily. "Besides the machines keeping your vital organs functioning, your heart stopped three times. You almost didn't make it. It's only because of Harper that you're here now. Another day and we would probably have lost you."
Tyr glanced over at Harper still standing quietly next to his bed. "I fear a long, long story coming on."
Somewhere between the dead scientist, loony bin, icepicks, pseudo-white blood cells, and something called a Vacuum of Doom, the story did indeed become long. Tyr took most of the tale in stride. Nothing seemed to have any real ability to surprise him much any more, even this nearly implausible account.
"And these… devices Machello created, what will become of them?"
"Right now they're getting ready for a one-way trip to Sinti's second sun," Harper answered cheerfully. "I'm afraid they won't have any sunscreen either." The human smiled at his own bad joke.
Tyr was glad to hear of their imminent demise. Machello's hate for the Nietzscheans had been terribly strong. Why there weren't more of these creatures out in the galaxy he didn't know. And never hoped to.
Harper was again babbling on about how he'd initially figured out a way to remove the wormlike machines and Tyr listened with modest interest. The boy had already explained this part, but since Harper had saved his life, this was the least he could do. For a while anyway. Anasazi was not a fan of humoring anyone for longer than a tolerable amount of time.
Instead of paying attention to the human's words, Tyr took in his appearance with growing apprehension. Harper's eyes were alight with interest in his own genius workings, but below them were dark shadows. 'Lack of sleep?' he musingly wondered.
Harper's skin seemed paler and the stubble on his face was thicker than what the engineer usually preferred. Tyr's sharp eyesight could also make out the faint beads of sweat forming along his hairline. The last, and more serious observation he made, was of Harper's hand. The way he was carefully holding it to look as if he was in fact not holding, clearly showed something was wrong.
"Come here." His commanding words stopped Harper mid-sentence.
"Okay," the engineer complied, warily stepping forward.
Tyr nodded to the glass of water sitting on the stand next to his bed. "Pick up the water."
Harper's eyes widened just enough to realize what Tyr was playing at. Instead of giving in, he slowly stretched his right hand out to water placed next to the bedridden Nietzschean.
"No, use your left."
Harper pulled back his hand from the glass. He made no move toward the water now and Tyr raised an eyebrow. "Curious. What's wrong with your arm, Harper?"
The engineer obstinately narrowed his eyes. "Nothing is wrong with my arm."
Tyr glared and Harper swallowed heavily.
Seconds passed and finally the human caved. "It's not my arm… it's my wrist."
By this time Trance had heard their conversation and moved back toward them from the computer console she'd previously been at. "Harper?" she asked.
He ducked his head and muttered, "I um… it's my wrist. I wanted to tell you, but things were busy and it could wait. I fell, so it's probably just twisted."
With careful hands, Trance reached for Harper's left wrist. When her fingers made contact with the faintly bruised skin, he hissed in pain. Trying not to jostle it very much, Trance slowly pulled his arm towards her. She exclaimed the aforesaid injury and glanced back up at its owner in dismay.
"Harper, it's very possible you fractured this. I need to get it scanned to tell how serious. When did this happen?"
The blonde clammed up, shaking his head negatively. "I don't really remember. Probably when I was working or something."
Tyr frowned. He's lying.
Not saying anything, however, he watched Trance lead Harper over to the next bed and prompted him up onto it.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she implored.
Harper shrugged. "I didn't think it was that bad. It didn't feel broken."
She sighed and softly probed the rest of his arm, up to his shoulder. This too received a hiss of distress. "Harper, take off your shirt. I want to make sure you haven't injured your shoulder too."
The request sent the engineer into a frenzy. As soon as the words left her mouth he was trying to get off his bed.
"Y-you know, I-I think I'm okay," he babbled, refusing to yield to the hands attempting to hold him back. "Reallllllly, just sprained it. It's nothing. I've had worse."
"Harper, stop, you have to stop," Trance called, trying to calm him. "You're going to hurt yourself again… Harper no, please, just sit back…"
Again he tried to pull from her grabbing hands.
"SEAMUS HARPER!"
Tyr's harsh voice froze the human like a child who just been discovered stealing from the cookie container.
"Now, you will listen to Trance or so help me, little man, I will gladly get off this bed and hold you down myself," Tyr said. Though at least five feet away, the threat carried the distance well.
The warning seemed to work and Harper slowly complied. Not happily of course, but Tyr could have cared less about joyful compliance as long as it happened. He watched with muted curiosity as the human, with Trance's help, pulled off his shirt.
Tyr felt something unpleasant fill his senses. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was.
Rage.
Next to Harper, Tyr heard the ship's physician gasp.
Like some sick version of war paint, Harper's chest was covered with dark patches of old bruises. Most were centered around his ribcage with a few larger ones scattered across his lower stomach. His left shoulder was also darker than it should be. This was no accident. Unless Harper has accidentally made contact with someone's fist. And then possibly, judging by the sizes of the bruises on his abdomen, inadvertently ran into a foot as well.
Harper wasn't looking at them, just staring down at his knees. He casually picked at a piece of lint he found imbedded in the dark material.
"Oh, Harper," Trance whispered, "how did this happen?"
Seamus glanced up for a second, his eyes on hers just long enough to say, "It doesn't matter how."
"It does matter," she said. "Please… tell me."
He went in search for more lint.
Tyr thought about cutting in, demanding that the boy tell them where he'd acquired such a collection of injuries, but from the stubborn set of Harper's jaw, the weapon's officer realized he'd get no response.
Trance seemed to understand that she too would receive no answer. She backed away and went to a nearby storage shelf, rummaging around for something to probably use on Harper's wrist.
Having nothing profound to say, Tyr sat in silence, watching the human across from him. Harper still hadn't looked up. He seemed to be building a temple with all the fibers he had collected from his pants. Building and building. Not caring about what was really going on. Just… building. He looked completely broken.
Tyr leaned back into the head cushion of his bed, his mind full of vengeful thoughts. The kludge was an annoying, little man who talked too much and had poor manners. More often than not, he deserved a good swift kick. Nevertheless, the kludge had also saved his life far too many times to count. The boy was his kludge, and the thought of someone hurting him in such a manner did not bode well with the Nietzschean.
With a low growl in his throat, Tyr decided what must be done. Someone was going to pay. When he was healed and ready… yes, someone was going to pay dearly.
Beka awoke sometime later that morning and rolled over with a lethargic groan. The chrono next to her bed flashed and she glanced over at the changing numbers, realizing just how long she'd been out of it. Nearly 14 hours from the looks of it. She didn't even remember falling asleep. Harper had walked her back to her quarters yesterday afternoon, and now here she was, splayed across her bed with a thin blanket laying over her. His doing she was sure.
She sat up and stretched, her neck cracking with a satisfying crunch as she twisted it to the side. She looked down at her bandaged arm and flexed her hand experimentally. Every digit seemed to work properly. Trance had said she could have lost some feeling due to nerve damage, but everything felt okay. A little stiff if anything, but each finger followed her command when she mentally told them to wiggle.
Beka proceeded to her bath unit next, used the toilet facilities and took a long shower that was to die for. When she was done she dried off and ran a brush through her tangled hair and contemplated, while staring in the mirror, changing the color for a while. Deciding she'd do it later, she went to her closet in search of clean clothing.
Leisurely, Beka pulled a dark shirt and pants out and went to work dressing herself, more concerned with comfort than fashion at this particular moment. The next important thing she had on her agenda was lunch. She didn't care what she ate, just as long as she could have it quickly. She was hungry enough to eat a herd of kellick beasts, horny tails and all.
The door chime to her quarters went off with a metallic hum and drew her from her mental feast of kellick meat. Barefoot, Beka padded over and keyed open the door, all the while looping the last of her belt into her pants with her other hand.
"Hey," Beka greeted her guest, dropping her hands from her waist. "I'm glad you came by. I wanted to thank you for staying with me in the lab room. Talking to me and stuff."
Rommie smiled slightly. "I didn't do much I'm afraid."
Beka shook her head. "No, you tried to calm me. I remember that. I knew you were there, at least a part of me did. Thank you."
"Any time," the android offered kindly. She shifted a bit to the other foot and a slight change on her face caught Beka's attention.
"What's up?" the pilot asked suddenly.
Rommie's face sobered. "It's Harper."
"What about him?"
"He's on Med Deck."
The Maru's captain raised an eyebrow. "What's he doing there? Did Trance need something else? I mean, I thought the creatures were pretty much taken care of?"
"No," Rommie shook her head, "Trance has him under observation on Med Deck. As in, he's a--"
"Patient?" Beka finished, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.
The avatar nodded curtly.
Beka felt her hands tighten into fists and heard the rapid words of, "sonofabitch," fall from her mouth. She took a breath to calm herself out of the panic that was beginning to claw at her. "What happened? The last time I saw him he was perfectly fine."
"Unfortunately, perfectly fine appears to be what he wanted us to see, not how he actually was. Trance can explain more when we get down there," Rommie offered.
"Why didn't you come get me sooner?" Beka demanded.
Rommie looked apologetic. "Trance thought it would be better for you to rest. You didn't need to be in there hovering over him. He hasn't been there very long."
Beka glared a bit and said definitely, "I don't hover," as she went back into her quarters in search of her boots.
When she had quickly laced them on, albeit sloppily, she followed the avatar down the corridor. Up two levels, down more corridors. Up another level. The path to Med Deck was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. When they eventually approached the door, Beka hesitated. Why was this happening? Things had just started to go right for the first time in weeks and now something else was landing in their plate.
"Damn," she muttered, "damn damn damn." Beka paused as the last curse faded into the air. Déjà vu. The last time she'd said that, she'd been sitting right outside this door, awaiting Harper's fate. She didn't know if she could do that again. Just the thought of losing him…
The door opened and Rommie stepped inside. Beka instinctively followed. Instead of Harper, and the first person she saw was Tyr. The Nietzschean was resting on his bed, back propped up and trying unsuccessfully to finish a bowl of something that looked… lumpy. Her fear for Harper was momentarily pushed back as she realized how well he was doing compared to when she had last seen him.
"Hey," she said softly. "Glad to have you back. Last time I was here, you weren't looking too hot."
"So I've been told," Tyr responded. He glanced down at the bowl in his hands, grimaced and put it down on the table next to his bed.
Beka's eyes moved to Tyr's left and slowly the occupied medbed next to his came into view. Hesitantly she walked forward and stopped, inches from the sleeping engineer. Beka put a hand on his forehead instinctively, as if checking for fever. He wasn't hot, however, not even the usual 98.6 degrees of warmth associated with the human body. Harper was cool, and the skin beneath her palm was clammy. She drew her hand away.
Trance came to stand on her right, as if appearing out of no where.
Beka looked over at the alien, but said nothing. Her eyes asked everything.
"Don't worry," her friend reassured, "he'll be fine."
"He's cold," Beka observed.
Tranced nodded. "It's the shock. He's coming out of it, but his system needs a little more time to recuperate."
"Recuperate from what exactly?"
"From a fractured wrist. He also had some minor internal bleeding. It wasn't a life threatening level of hemorrhaging, but given time it could have built up. It's good we were able to catch it. He also has two cracked ribs and a badly wrenched shoulder. I have him sedated now because he's so physically exhausted. I doubt he's sleep more than a few hours in the past several days."
Beka swallowed and looked to her right again. "He was fine earlier. He was joking, he seemed… happy. How did this happen? "
Trance's eyes looked a bit haunted Beka realized. "He won't say. But… it's probably safe to assume it happened on Sinti. Most of the injuries are several days old. My best guess is that he's been running on adrenaline these past few days. We've seen him do it before."
Valentine stared at the inert young man before her, covered thickly with blankets up to his neck. "So this happened on Sinti. The place where we left him." She swiped a hand over his form. "Left him to receive this."
"Beka, we couldn't know anything would happen. We were trying to help him."
Beka laughed bitterly. "Yeah, we really helped him. Looks like he got a lot of help, didn't he?"
Trance didn't respond and Beka realized how harsh her tone had been. She ran a hand through her damp hair and sighed wearily. "I'm sorry, Trance, I didn't mean to imply… I know you love Harper and none of us would intentionally do something to hurt him. This is just frustrating. God, why would he hide this? He needed help and he didn't ask."
Trance put a hand on Beka's shoulder, her fingers warm amongst the mechanical cool of the infirmary. "He was concerned for you and Tyr. That's all that mattered to him. As soon as you were okay though, his body just stopped functioning."
"When will he wake up?"
"Well, I gave him the mild sedative a few hours ago," Trance answered. "When it wears off later today, I expect he'll remain unconscious, at least until his body has caught up on the sleep it desperately needs. That probably won't be until tomorrow sometime, at the latest."
Beka sighed and scratched at a drop of water that had run down her neck from her hair. Her stomach began calling to her again, this time even more insistent. "You said he'd be out for a while?"
"All day."
Valentine nodded to herself, content with her next plan of action. Her eyes found Trance and then Rommie, who had been standing behind them silently.
"That's good to know," she said, "because I have to go eat something now before my stomach starts to cannibalize itself. Then… I'll be back to hover."
The next day, Harper returned to consciousness and found Beka by his side, her head resting on his bed near his right hand. She was asleep, but as soon as he began moving she was awake and looking up at him with a smile of relief.
She lightly scolded him for not telling anyone about his injuries and he apologized. He had been wrong to hide that he knew. Harper then expressed his anger at himself for getting her infected and she at herself for committing him to a mental health facility.
They both laughed at one another and made peace with the situation. It was in the past, they realized, and the only thing that mattered was the here and now. Besides, Beka was Harper's friend, and she hadn't really wanted to put him in that hell hole on Sinti. He also knew that being angry at her was the wrong thing to do.
Next, Dylan, Rommie, Trance, and a nearly healed Tyr joined them. Harper realized he couldn't be mad at them either. They were his friends, and he loved them too much to hold a grudge.
Together the small crew smiled and joked together. Tyr said something cynical about death, Dylan recited a well used platitude about 'all's well that ends well', and Beka tussled Harper's already disheveled hair with affection. All were happy to be in each others presence. Things were good, and life, once again, went on as usual on the Andromeda Ascendant.
But things, Harper knows, do not always have a perfect ending. Not everything is black and white, good or evil. Some actions taken, cannot always be defensible, and sometimes, contrary to Machiavellian ideals, the end does not always justify the means. So when Harper really awoke the next day, he was left with the haunting images of the dream he had just had. In it all wrongs had been righted and there had been no residual effects from the past week of his life.
But the actual reality sank in the moment he opened his eyes and realized where he was.
Med Deck was empty and dark. Not pitch black, but the lights had been dimmed enough to allow for a comfortable sleep. His body, propped up at a slight angle, didn't ache and he knew it was probably because he was being pumped full of drugs. God bless Trance for that at least, he mused to himself.
Harper flexed his bare toes, then his ankles. So far so good. Next he experimentally lifted the collar of his medical gown and saw his chest and stomach covered in familiar blue patches of antibiotic treatment fluid. "Great," he murmured. Harper dropped the thin material and examined his left arm, which was held immobile in a sling that wrapped around his neck and back around to his shoulder.
From Trance's earlier reaction his wrist had been far worse than he had expected. Damn Uno and Dos. He hadn't wanted any of this to come out. The bruises would have healed quickly enough and he could have easily passed off his arm as okay for a few more days if they hadn't ruffed him up on their last visit to Sinti. The damage was just too great to fly under the radar this time.
Harper bit his bottom lip in frustration. Now came the explanations and the reprimands, all the things he had wanted to avoid. He was content with the fact that he had helped Beka and Tyr, but he didn't want discuss "it". That only brought up more issues, more feelings and things in which he didn't trust himself to talk about just yet, if ever.
He turned onto his right side, careful to adjust his left arm properly across his chest. There still wasn't any physical pain, but in time, it would come. Unfortunately no amount of pills could take away the real hurt he felt. That was too deep for something artificial to reach. It was tucked away with all the other anger, and betrayal, and resentment, and misery he had collected over the years. What were a few more emotions anyway? He could take it. He had always taken it. Now was no different.
Harper closed his eyes and prevented his tears from falling. He refused to let them.
He did not open his eyes when someone called his name.
Beka, his brain provided.
He also didn't respond when something lightly touched his shoulder.
Beka's hand, his heart offered knowingly.
When the voice pleaded for him to open his eyes, when it said it knew he was awake, Harper lay silent.
She wants you to talk to her, his conscience replied.
As another voice joined the first, but nothing changed.
You can't ignore them forever, his soul gently reprimanded.
But the human on the bed only lay still and silent.
Shut off.
Alone.
Trying to forget.
