See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Okay, so I certainly never meant to go this long before posting this chapter. However I've been so swamped with assignments and readings and work that I wasn't even able to think about this, let alone work on it. I also wanted to upload it at the same time as the Epilogue, and so I had to find time to work on that (time that I really should have spent doing research, but this was much more fun!). Hope the wait was worth it!

And as always, any and all mistakes are mine.

PART TWENTY-FIVE - Okay

Two hours later, five hours later - who knew how long, exactly? - they lay nestled in the arms of one another, revelling in the comfort and serenity that the contact with the other, flesh on flesh, brought with it. In an alternating pattern of conversation and silence, both were contented to stay there indefinitely. And while both knew that was a fantasy that they couldn't allow to fruition, they were going to deny the real world for as long as they had time.

Finishing the mission early had never been this rewarding.

Another long bout of comfortable silence stretched throughout the small ship, and both idly wondered who would end up breaking it next, not that it really mattered. In the end, however, it was Telemachus' voice that filled the void.

"Beka, I want to be honest with you, open," he rolled on his side so he could better see her face. "Not just with what I have said, but with what I haven't."

She grinned mischievously. "Well, if it's about how good I am, obvious comments are not necessary, but always welcome." She slowly ran a hand along his muscled arm, her grin spreading wider. "But then again, I do seem to recall that being something you have said, so…."

He chuckled deep in his throat and shook his head lightly. "It's not about that. Not that I wouldn't - won't, of course," he was quick to add. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against hers. The contact was brief, not nearly as intense as many they had previously shared, and yet it managed to strengthen the connection they'd forged not much earlier.

He pulled back and locked eyes with her once more, once she opened them of course. "It's something I need to get out."

Sensing his sincere tone, she nodded encouragingly while pushing herself up on an elbow.

He looked away at first, feeling a little uncomfortable and apprehensive about what he wanted to say. Finally he looked back and spoke. "Do you remember, a few weeks back, when you found that marker in Scipio's book?"

"The, uh, the one with the poem?" Of course she remembered that incident, it was hard to forget. But she didn't want to be the one to bring it up, though.

He nodded, and she sensed the tiniest bit of embarrassment emanating from him. Rhade took a breath and continued. "What happened that day, there was a reason behind it, one I want you to know."

"You don't have to--"

"I do," he affirmed. "When I was a child, along with all the regular drills and lessons I was expected to thrive on, my father insisted on a sort of mental conditioning exercise. In some ways, he believed this to be more important than all the rest, saying it had been a part of my family for a long time, my ancestor…my predecessor, he devised it as a survival tactic. My siblings and I were to take something familiar, a poem or quote, and we were to drill it into our minds until, once conjured, it was all we could concentrate on."

He wasn't sure if it was himself for Beka who initiated the contact, but his hand felt the familiar touch of her own, fingers interlacing with one another. "That familiar piece was to fill our minds, permeate our thoughts when it seemed as if a situation arose that could not be beaten…something that appeared hopeless." He dropped his head, and the last words were barely audible. Moments later he raised his head back up and continued on, his voice firmer. "A protective measure, in case the only thing left to protect was our minds." He couldn't keep the dregs of bitterness out of his voice as he added, "Relentless, senseless torture was one of those proposed situations. For me to have even considered it as an option…."

Beka noted the tone of his words, but she expected no less. He put on a good show of being over the ordeal, and she suspected that some of it truly was real. But she knew him better than that - while he might be healing, he was far from healed.

"I can guess where this is going," she said with a bit more glibness to her voice than she intended. The old habit of joking off an awkward, troubling topic was surfacing even as she sought to suppress it.

Luckily, he seemed to understand, offering a tight, small upturn of his lips. "And you do. That poem on the marker was the one I chose, one of my favourites at the time of my training. I was seven." His voice loosened as he attempted to lighten the sombre mood, "It really was an ingenious strategy, to have the future generation capable of suppressing that which would demean us, break us, make us weak. My father was always one for going back to the teachings of deep-rooted tradition, and--"

"Telemachus," Beka cut him off softly, causing him to turn his eyes back on her. It was obvious he had begun to stray from the topic, and she knew that he had started this conversation with the intention of finishing it, even if he didn't want to.

Her simple mention of his name was enough to remind him of what he was supposed to be concentrating on. He bowed his head ever so slightly to acknowledge this, as he returned to the previous topic. "The training was important to my father, and for good reason. It worked." Air slowly left his lungs as fragments of memories, some from years past and some just recently gone by, clouded his mind. "That poem, it…" he paused collect his thoughts and his composure - his heart rate had begun to climb just the tiniest bit, but enough so that his brain raced to implement a countermeasure before it became any sort of problem.

It could very well have been his imagination, but he thought he felt the smallest bit of pressure where Beka's hand met with his own. "It was able to keep the nightmares at bay, so much so that it became the nightmare itself.

"The words have been haunting me for months now, they have been controlling me, holding me captive…and it is taking considerable time and effort to lock them back up again. But I am trying…." Rhade finished, and he felt a jump in his pulse, a light surge of adrenaline coursing through his body - normally he would have been alarmed, but right now the only thing it brought with it was relief.

She sensed it was her turn to say something. "I think that helps to explain a few things a little more. Thank you."

He gave her a look that echoed her sentiments. They held their gazes a few seconsd longer before Beka pushed up a bit higher and softly pressed her lips to his forehead. He closed his eyes and absorbed the comfort her gesture sought to provide.

When she pulled back, he took a deep breath - he wasn't quite finished. "When you first looked at that marker…how much did you read?"

That was one question she hadn't been expecting, and it caught her off guard. But she had an inkling of where he was headed again, and she wasn't sure it was necessarily a good thing right now. Thinking fast, attempting to divert the inevitable, she answered, "Uh, most of it. All, I think."

He indulged her with a small upturn of the lips, but nonetheless said, "Openness and attempting to protect me can at times be mutually exclusive. You have to choose what's more important, more practical."

She sighed, looking a little sheepish, and amended, "The fist couple of lines, maybe…I don't really remember."

He nodded, expecting as much. "I think you should know what exactly it is that I am talking about." He allowed his eyes to wandered, adding, "And I think I should be the one to recite it for you."

Her own eyes widened a little, just in time to capture his once more. This time it was it was definitely her own hand forcing pressure on his, giving him her silent support - if it truly was what he thought he needed, she wasn't going to stop him. No matter what had just transpired between them, no matter how it had affected their relationship - something they had not quite worked out yet - he was first and foremost her friend, she had to keep that in her mind. And Beka Valentine trusted her friends to do what they truly thought was right.

Rhade reached over with his free hand - something that was somewhat difficult given that she was practically lying on the attached arm - and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, giving his own silent thanks. He then used the hand attached to hers to tug a little, indicating that he wished her to be a little closer. She complied and settled against him as he leaned back, both staring upwards at nothing in particular.

After a few moments of enjoying the renewed contact between them, Rhade began to speak, his deep voice quiet and subdued, but gaining confidence as each syllable moved past his lips.

-o-

Sometime later they slept, regaining the energy they had spent. With the Maru parked in an isolated region of this system, the low hum of the engines, working just enough to keep the environment comfortable and the rest of the systems idling, was the only sound filling the confined space.

Inside his mind, Rhade dreamt. About what, his conscious mind was not privy to, but it was reminded of peace, calm…of home, back when he felt he could still belong.

But as his body continued to sleep, the dreams slowly molded, casting shadows, darkening their imagery and emanations. Suddenly his conscious became aware of the content, absorbing the vivid detail. And before his body could even register what was happening, it was jostled from its resting state.

He shot up violently, leaning forward and breathing just a little too hard. He was instantly aware of his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the dim illumination, the other senses straining to determine if there was a threat, a reason for his sudden heightened alert. His heart rate increased in anticipation. Seconds later, however, having established that there was no immediate danger, his mind relaxed, allowing his body to do the same. He glanced down at the arm partially outstretched in front of him, ready to either attack or defend. He didn't remember his bone blades extending, but they had.

During all of this, he was well aware that he was not alone. Having awoken when he had shot up due to her position curled up next to him, Beka, instantly roused, sat up as well. She placed a hand on the shoulder nearest to her side - he had already calmed by this point - and gave him a concerned look in the near-darkness. He appeared to be staring at his forearm with a pensive expression.

"Are you okay?" she implored quietly.

He did not respond right away, but he did turn to her, that same thoughtful expression. A few moments later he turned back to the empty air in front of him, frowning in concentration.

Was he okay? That seemed to be the big question. Rhade focussed, trying to recall the details of the dream - the nightmare. He couldn't remember much…but was there really much to remember? Using all the mental strength he had, he brought himself back to the juncture, back to where the dream had turned.

He saw himself on Makhoiian Drift, stalking through the narrow streets. He moved fast. There was a rhythmic sound slowly growing louder, footsteps approaching from behind. He continued to walk, ignoring the beginnings of the warning signals selectively bred into his being.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain in his upper back, and then…that was it. His conscious mind had broken through and he had shot up, awake, alert, prepared. Absently he ran his fingers over his one set of bone blades as they retracted to lie, resting, against his skin.

"Telemachus?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to face her concern-filled eyes. In the dim light, he gave her a slow, understanding smile, definitely the most genuine expression she'd seen from him in months.

"I think I will be."