Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

"You really need to stop getting yourself into so much trouble," said Trance, placing some ice on Harper's neck.

"I'm just happy that Beka and I are finally on good terms with each other again," Harper said, wincing at the slight pain of his raw flesh.

"Yes, that is a good thing. I spoke to Dylan by the way..." her voice trailed off a little.

"Oh yeah? Did you ask about—?"

"Yes Harper, I did ask about Rommie."

"And?"

"And Dylan's too focused on his own feelings to notice Rommie," Trance sighed.

"Sounds a little selfish to me."

"Dylan's not a selfish person by nature, I think he just a bit more concerned about his emotions right now because they might have something to do with Beka. His emotions affect all of us," explained Trance.

"Yeah, like how when he's angry and wants to kick-ass he orders us into the middle of a Maggog swarm and starts firing like a madman..." Harper smiled widely at his own joke.

"Oh Harper..."

"Trance...stop that..."

"Stop what?"

"Petting me like that. It ruins my spikes."

"Oh," Trance retracted her hand but grinned, "I only do it when you're clueless."

"...why?" Harper looked at her like she was crazy.

"Because it takes my mind off how annoying your clueless-ness is," Trance gave him an enigmatic look, petted his hair once more and skipped away.

Harper stared at his hands as if he was waiting for them to turn green. He tried to understand his conversation with the mysterious Trance, as usual, he failed. The words she'd said kept running through his mind in a jumbled mess and the engineer found himself capable to speak only one coherent sentence.

"I'm not clueless..."

He pouted. And if Trance had been there, she probably would have petted his hair again.

Beka hummed to herself as she traced her way around Deck 9. Or was it Deck 10? Deck 11...12?

"13," Beka said aloud, finally coming to a decision.

"42, actually," Dylan said, casually walking towards her.

"13," Beka replied.

"42."

"13."

"Even if it was Deck 13—which it isn't—it would still be Deck 42."

"What?" Beka looked genuinely confused, "How does that work?"

"I'm the Captain. What I say goes," he shrugged.

"Except when you're crazy," Beka replied, somewhat nonchalantly.

"This is my ship, I rule here."

"Is that so?"

Dylan frowned as she began to walk away from him.

"Beka," he caught up with her, "Stop."

She kept on walking.

"Beka..." he walked beside her.

She could be stubborn when she wanted to. He continued to follow her like a lost puppy for reasons even he himself could not fathom. He was sure he was supposed to be saying something to her, something important, and yet his brain could not seem to compose a single word. So, unable to uncover a better option, the Captain trailed behind his pilot, hoping that she'd eventually stop walking and notice the pathetic look he had on his face.

She did. Eventually. Once they'd reached the Maru and Beka had sealed the door.

"Sit down," Beka ordered, finally acknowledging Dylan.

"Excuse me?"

"My ship. I rule here," she said simply.

"Do we have to do this?" Dylan sighed.

Beka thought for a moment before opening her mouth again:

"No, you can leave if you'd like to...but you won't."

"Why not?" his blue eyes narrowed like darts.

"Because you're Saint Hunt and the fact that I haven't confronted you properly about your actions earlier is driving you insane," she flipped her hair for effect.

"I've just lost whatever scrap of dignity I have left in every fiber of my being, walking around in your shadow for the past half hour. Do we really have to do this?" he sat down in her piloting seat and leant back.

"Then why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

Beka looked frustrated.

"Follow me around the Andromeda!"

"Because..."

"Because why?"

"Because..."

"Dylan."

"Because it's driving me insane that you haven't confronted me yet!" Dylan growled in defeat.

Somehow, Beka could not bring herself to smile triumphantly.

So instead, she smiled smugly.

Her smile soon faded though, seeing Dylan's obvious dismay. The skin of his face was folded over into a concerned frown. Concerned about what though, Beka couldn't tell. They remained silent for a long while, it could have been a minute, an hour or another three hundred years. It was all the same to both of them.

"We're terrible at this whole conversation thing, y'know?" Beka said finally, flopping down onto the floor.

"Yep," Dylan ran a hand through his hair.

"Y'know what else?"

"What?"

"We suck."

"Yeah."

"But you suck more, y'know why?"

Dylan sighed again, "Why Beka? Why do I suck more?"

"Because you made me remember I have feelings again."

"Is that such a terrible thing?"

"Look around you, our crew is falling apart."

"Rub it in, won't you."

For a moment, Beka actually felt like apologizing to him. He beat her to it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What?"

Dylan sat up and placed his hands on his knees.

"I'm sorry for...for...for whatever it was I did to you while I was...delirious," he said.

"Crazy works better," Beka smiled weakly, "Thanks though."

They looked at each other like they were staring out into the universe and its endless space.

"So...how crazy was I exactly?" Dylan inquired quietly.

"You made out with me for...well I can't remember exactly how long but I do remember that were in the middle of being attacked because we kept getting thrown around the room," Beka pondered upon the memory.

"Right..." Dylan looked down and felt his cheeks heat up.

"Oh c'mon Dylan," Beka punched his shoulder, "You've snogged plenty of people before, don't act like some schoolboy on Valentine's day."

She regretted saying that a second later, for the ironic pun it contained, he looked up at her, silently teasing her with his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Dylan," she crossed her arms, "You know what I meant."

"You're lucky you know, you have a whole day named after you," Dylan couldn't help but grin.

"That isn't funny, that joke is so old," Beka rolled her eyes and stood up again.

"Not funny to you maybe."

"How would you feel if your last name was...was...Christmas or something!" Beka grumbled.

"Captain Christmas?" Dylan frowned, "I'd feel suicidal..."

She tried not to smile. Her efforts were in vain.

"See? It is funny," he smirked smugly.

"We're way off-topic you know. We're supposed to be talking about us," Beka shivered slightly at the word "us" and what it implied.

"Right...we should get back to that, shouldn't we?"

"If we ever want to be able to socialize normally again, yes."

Silence.

Now, Beka Valentine was determined to get the truth out of the good Captain if she had to drip water over his head till it bore through his skull. And since the entire "conversation" approach hadn't worked, she decided to try a different tactic.

Beka swung her legs around and planted herself firmly on his lap.

"Beka...what are you doing...?" Dylan's voice was wary.

"Confronting you."

She stole his lips.

A/N: --hides from all the Beka/Rhade fans-- I'm sorry. I just don't know how to add Rhade properly in here…so until then we'll have to see what Dylan's reaction is to Beka's…confrontation. I'm also really sorry about not updating for what seems like forever, but I promise this fic will be completed. School's just been getting on top of me and swallowing me whole. I keep saying that each chapter will be the last but I don't want anything to happen too abruptly. This was actually supposed to be a Beka/Rhade- centric fic but it turned out differently. 'Sides, there's so many Beka/Rhade fics going around, which is awesome, but I wanted interaction between all the characters. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can crawl out from under my history notes.

Till then: (insert catchy farewell phrase)