TITLE: A Past to Outdo

CHAPTER NINE Way Out

"Aegroto, dum anima est, spes esse dicitur."
It is said that for a sick man, there is hope as long as there is life.

Cicero, Ad Atticum

For what seemed like hours, Harper sat huddled into the corner of the cell, going through what could only be described as hell. His body and mind were in equal pain, his body experiencing the agony of withdrawal, and his mind unable to make sense of anything. The worst thought was that this feeling was nothing new.

Eventually the main doors opened and someone can in. It was Tyr. He stood there for a while, just staring. "I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt," he finally began. "But now it appears I was wrong."

Harper guessed maybe they weren't in trouble after all. "Tyr, I swear to god I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tyr studied him. Was this just another trick? "You broke out of your restraints and took another needle. You attacked Dr Ellis, do you remember?"

Harper shook his head in denial.

"She managed to defend herself and knock you unconscious."

Harper cautiously felt the back of his head. Sure enough, he had stitches that definitely weren't there before. But it still wasn't enough. "No, it's not true."

"Denial will get you nowhere. It's time to face up to your actions, boy," Tyr pressed.

But Harper wasn't listening. "This isn't happening..." he sobbed. "It's just some twisted nightmare...some sick game..."

"Harper, listen to me," Tyr ordered, but failed to get the young engineer's attention. "HARPER!" he shouted. Harper looked up at the towering Nietzschean. "This is not a nightmare or a game, it is your life," Tyr assured with authority. "And it appears that Andromeda isn't helping straighten it out. Dr Ellis is still willing to help you. Whatever her reasons are, I think you should go with her."

"Go with her where?" Harper asked.

Dr Ellis came through the door. She now sported a black eye and a swollen lip. "Hello, Harper," she greeted.

Harper didn't even want to look at her.

"I want you to know I don't hold any anger over what happened," Ellis continued. "You need help. And I don't think I can give it to you here. There is a facility in the Terron system that is specifically equipped to deal with your kind of problem. I want you to think about coming there with me."

Harper buried his face in his hands. This was too much, too fast, too soon. It wasn't happening, it was a dream. Maybe he never really woke up from his overdose, and this was some kind of twisted hell.

"Take your time," Ellis said sympathetically, and left with Tyr. Harper wondered briefly why they sent him. Why didn't Dylan break the news, or Beka? Even Trance would have been more compassionate. Maybe that was why. Trance, Beka and Dylan were human, and more susceptible to shock. Tyr was the brave-faced warrior who took everything in his stride, unaffected by everything.

If only Harper had known what was really going inside Tyr's head. Not blind indifference, but disappointment. Before Tyr ever set foot on Andromeda, he believed humans to be a weak, inferior species. Over time, Harper had been one of the ones who'd shown him just how wrong he was. Having survived so much, simply being alive was enough to prove that a human could overcome life's obstacles and the cruelty of the universe. But Harper had done not only that, but kept on doing it, over and over again. The universe knocked him down and he got back up time and time again. But not this time. This time it wasn't the universe pulling the punches, it was self-inflicted. Tyr had unintentionally come to expect more.

Harper spent the majority of the night trying to wake up from the nightmare he was immersed in. After hours of failing, it appeared it wasn't going to happen. This was reality, not a nightmare. But lately, it was hard to tell the difference.

Some time during the night (Harper had lost all sense of time), Trance came to see him. She was the only one who did.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. The lights were still dim.

Believe it or not, Harper's mental anguish had overwhelmed his physical pain. But now Trance came to mention it, his aching body held it's hand up and said 'Present and accounted for'. "Not good," he replied honestly. He could barely lift his head. "The others?"

Trance looked to the floor. "Not good."

"I wish this wasn't happening. I want to tell you I'm sorry, but every time I do that, things just get worse and I have more to apologise for."

Trance was close to breaking point, but the tears lingered behind her eyes for now. "You need help. And I'm sorry, but I can't give it you," she said sadly. "I thought the medicines I could give you would be enough..."

Harper shook his head, an increasingly difficult act. "It's not your fault, you did everything you could. Thank-you."

Trance couldn't accept his thanks. It felt ridiculous that he was even trying to give them to her. What had she done to deserve them? "Are you going to go?" she asked.

It was Harper's turn to look at the floor. "I don't know. You know how I am with big decisions."

"Want some help?"

Harper smirked at the irony of Trance's statement. She noticed, and smiled briefly too. "Help to decide," she reiterated.

Harper wanted to say 'yes', for someone to make the choice for him, but he knew what he had to do. "Nah. I think I gotta do this on my own."

Trance nodded, and left, after a prolonged stare.

Harper was alone again, a feeling he was used to by now. For the remainder of the night, he sat and thought. Moving hurt too much, but he was sure if he was able, he would be pacing up and down the cell. This was decision he never expected to have to make. Hell, it was a life he never thought he'd have.

He only realised it must be morning when Dr Ellis and Dylan came in. Dylan was unusually quiet, and wouldn't meet him in the eye.

"Have you made your decision?" Ellis asked.

What choice did he have? Stay and end up losing everyone who ever cared about him, or leave...leave and get help. Getting into trouble was easy, getting out of it had never been his strong suit. The fact that he needed help was hard enough to admit - but he was finally starting to realise as much. It was clear he couldn't even control his own actions. The choice was obvious.

"When do we leave?"

End of chapter nine

Next chapter: Walking Away