Part 7
The sharp sting of pain woke him with a start, and then the pangs of a hangover headache hit him, as he grimaced and kept his eyes closed. Harper then froze when he felt the presence of someone else hovering over him, as he lay on his back in a bed that didn't feel like his own.
"Morning," Marika spoke softly. "I hope you've calmed down now."
"Marika," Harper could barely manage to say her name as his senses caught up with him, and he slowly opened his eyes. "Did we?" he questioned unsure, his mind hazy and he was met with the sight of Marika above him slowly nodding her head. "What the hell are you doing?" Harper then demanded as he was reminded of the short stab of pain that had awoken him.
Marika's hand was resting on his chest, and her fingers were bloodied. "You wouldn't wake up when I asked, so I had to get your attention, you respond so well to pain."
Harper grabbed her wrist and had the strength to pull it away, as he reached for her other hand and effectively trapped them both. Looking down at his chest he saw the thin line of blood just below his collar bone, and then noted the blade in Marika's hold.
"No way," Harper stressed as he pushed her back and sat up, keeping a hold of her wrists. "Not like this, this has to stop, Marika!"
"You like it!" Marika declared.
"You're the only freak in this room, Marika," Harper returned firmly, and stopped her attempts to free her hands from his hold.
"You want me, you want all of my idiocies as well, Harper and you know full well what they are, so with you staying, and you constantly showing me that you want me is giving me permission to do as I wish, it's called love," Marika half smiled.
Harper was shaking his head. "I don't want this," he stressed. "And you're just abusing the fact I had some stupid crush on you, well no more, I shouldn't have stayed, and I really shouldn't have let you lead me on," he stated.
"Yeah, like that was hard work," Marika mocked, and tried again to free her hands. "You just wanted one thing, Harper, and now you've had it you think you can make demands, you're wrong, and let go of me you're hurting me!" she stressed.
On instinct, Harper let go not wishing to hurt her, and Marika instantly lashed out at him, catching his cheek with the blade and they both froze. Shakily, Harper brought his hand up to his cheek and pulled it away seeing the blood.
"Harper, I didn't mean," Marika began, seemingly in shock.
"Enough," Harper simply said, and looked around before gathering his thoughts enough to retrieve his clothes.
"Harper I didn't, that wasn't supposed to," Marika stumbled, and for the first time Harper sensed she was scared.
"You knew what you were doing, why else did you have a blade by your bed, why else would you wake me up like you did?" Harper stated coldly. "You have a sick habit, Marika and I don't want any part of it anymore, ok?"
"Are you leaving?" Marika meekly asked.
Harper sighed and looked upwards. "I can't leave, I have no where to go," Harper offered finally with a sad frown. "But I won't be coming back here again, and you can forget ever being invited to dinner. From now on I'll stay in my area you stay in yours, and if we have to talk then it's strictly business, ok?" he stated firmly, and left her room.
Marika lay back on her bed, a smile creeping across her face, as she allowed her self a sigh of relief.
"No!" Doyle screamed and sat up abruptly, taking deep calming breaths.
Beka rushed to Doyle's side and held her arms. "It's ok, it was only a dream, a nightmare, it wasn't real," Beka assured her.
"It feels so real," Doyle tried to explain.
"Was it the same dream?" Beka asked softly.
"Yes, I was calling for Dylan but I was all alone, people were suffering and I was powerless to help," Doyle remembered, her voice shaking as she spoke. "But this time I felt what seemed to be pain, short stabbing motions and blood, all I could see was blood and I saw Harper."
"That's new," Beka realised. For the past three nights now Beka had comforted Doyle on waking from her nightmares, she had done the same many times for Harper but Doyle seemed to be experiencing more vivid images and it was enough to concern Beka.
"He was unconscious, dying, cuts and marks all over him, his clothes ripped to shreds and I could only watch as the blood covered him," Doyle blinked her eyes to try and rid herself of the image. "I wanted to help but I couldn't, I was unable to move and then he was gone."
"Gone?" Beka checked.
"Gone," Doyle confirmed.
"I'm sure it means nothing, you're probably just full of anxiety for Harper right now, and we are going to see Dylan to see if he can help us," Beka assured her, her own fears now rising for their friend, something about the way Doyle spoke made what she had seen so real.
"I need to do something, to forget, can I get you breakfast?" Doyle asked.
"Shouldn't I be offering that?" Beka smiled fondly.
"I'm not hungry and I could use the distraction," Doyle stated, as she moved from her cot.
"Well if you insist and if it makes you feel better," Beka conceded, and watched as Doyle moved to the bathroom to freshen up. "But make sure you do eat something, I don't recall the last time you ate something," Beka called after her before moving back towards the cockpit to check their progress.
He heard the footsteps before he saw her, and he rolled over so his back would be towards her when she entered.
"Harper?"
"Go away," Harper's muffled voice returned, as he brought the sheets up around himself.
"Why aren't you working?"
"Sick," Harper returned, and sniffed.
Marika paused, and Harper willed her to leave but she instead moved closer and he then felt her hand on his shoulder. "Let me see."
"What, you get some kick out of looking at sick people too?" Harper snapped, just wanting to be left alone.
With more force Marika put enough pressure on Harper's shoulder that he finally conceded, and rolled onto his back. Slightly shivering from fever, Harper looked up at her with watery eyes, his skin clammy and his hair plastered to his face.
"How long have you been like this?"
"Like you care," Harper sniped. "And it's nothing, just a virus I have that comes back every now and again."
"So I shouldn't be concerned?" Marika asked diplomatically.
"No," Harper dismissed, and then flinched as Marika reached out and ran her finger along the healing scar that was now across his cheek caused by their run in the previous day. "Do you mind not admiring your work when I'm sick, please?"
"I am sorry about that, I take no satisfaction from marking your face," Marika sounded genuine enough.
"Please, just leave and save me your concern," Harper dismissed.
"I need you to show me your progress so far, I need to know where we're at," Marika pushed.
"I'm sick, I'll show you when I get better," Harper reminded her.
"It will only take a minute, please?" Marika asked, and Harper realised she wouldn't leave until he had shown her so reluctantly brought the blanket around himself, and got to his feet.
Shakily, he moved and felt the coldness of the air that made the congestion in his lungs wake up, and he found himself coughing and reaching out to steady himself. Marika used the opportunity to take hold of him, and assist him towards his workshop, she was being unusually kind in her actions and Harper was trying not to comment.
"There you go," Harper gestured to the various parts he had salvaged. "My work so far, so go now and I'll get better on my own, in private," he stressed.
Marika was staring at him, but not at his face and he realised the blanket had shifted slightly to reveal the scar that was just below his collar bone on his chest. "Will you freaking give it a rest?" Harper complained and wrapped the blanket around himself some more. "You know you wouldn't even notice the scars if you truly cared about me, and you wouldn't have made me get up to show you this junk, people that care would have just tucked me up in bed and demanded I sleep so just get the hell out of my sight," Harper stated with venom.
"I'm not like any other people you know, and that's why you like me, you like the danger, the lack of care," Marika countered. "You had Doyle to be your mother, you built her for that purpose but you can't control me, and that's why you like me."
"Don't try and tell me what I like and don't like," Harper dismissed. "And for the record, Doyle is nothing like my mother."
"But that was her name right, you told me that once," Marika stated and Harper stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at Marika.
"It wasn't her name," Harper simply answered.
"But it was yours, it's your family name," Marika could see she was touching a raw nerve and enjoyed pushing it further.
"I never told you that," Harper sneered and slowly turned around.
"How else could I know that?" Marika challenged.
Harper considered the question, thinking hard. "Gogol, I bet he told you, right?" Harper moved closer finding strength in his accusations. "When you tortured him to death did he tell you stuff about me?"
"So Doyle is your name," Marika said with joy.
"No, Harper is my name, and don't ever forget it, ok?" Harper stressed.
"Seamus Zelazny Doyle," Marika taunted him now.
"How, how do you know my first names?" Harper demanded with anger, his illness making it impossible to remain calm as Marika continued to press his buttons. "No one knows that, Gogol didn't know, no one knows!" he yelled and let the blanket fall as he moved to Marika with rage in his eyes.
"You mumble in your sleep, and you say the sweetest things when I torture you," Marika stood her ground. "Only five lashes in and you would tell me all sorts of things, just before you passed out each time."
"Not true, I don't sing like a bird for no one," Harper stated, but he couldn't think how else she would know.
"So how do I know?" Marika asked, as if reading his troubled thoughts. Somehow Harper had lost control once again to Marika, and he stood unsteady before her. "You didn't leave me, you continue to stay and you have feelings for me that you keep trying to deny, but most of all you enjoy what I do to you," Marika grabbed hold of Harper's wrists.
"No," Harper denied but he had no strength from the illness to release his hands from her grip. She pressed his forearms together and reached for a piece of rope from one of the work benches and Harper gave up the fight as his feelings of despair over took his illness consumed senses.
"You can't fight me, Harper because you don't want to, you want to be punished you want to feel pain, you've lost so much and you blame yourself, always wondering if you could have done things differently, if you could have fixed that ark ship thing you used to speak of, if you could have saved your friends, so why deny these feelings?" Marika continued to undermine him.
"I don't! It's all lies, stop messing with my head!" Harper snapped with pure rage, and even with his hands now bound together he lashed out at her and caught her across the jaw, and watched in shock as Marika stumbled back and to the floor. "Oh my god," Harper gasped as the reality of his actions quickly kicked in, and he was frozen to the spot. "Never hit a woman," Harper spoke seeing Marika sprawled on the floor, and being reminded of his father's words that now taunted him further. He fell to his knees and bowed his head, finally letting the tears of despair fall. "Never hit a woman," he repeated losing control, wondering how he had sunk so low, Marika's words taunting him further now, as they replayed over and over in his thoughts.
A loud explosion rocked the base and Marika was the first to react, she looked at Harper who remained wracked with guilt on his knees, and she grabbed hold of his bound arms.
"What's going on?" Harper managed between breaths, both illness and emotions rendering him practically useless now, as he let Marika pull him roughly along barely managing to stay upright as she did so.
"You will stay here," Marika stated coldly, as she tied Harper's bound wrists to the workbench leg. "Let them find you first, so I can have more time to escape."
"What, no," Harper flustered. "What's going on?" he started to struggle against his binds, but Marika just smiled.
"The Tech police have returned and I'm sure you'll be more than enough of a distraction to let me escape," Marika grinned and then hurried away, leaving Harper to desperately tug at the restraints around his wrists.
He became so caught up in the panic of trying to free himself that Harper never noticed the figure coming up behind him, grabbing hold of his hair until it was too late, and he passed out from the stress and illness that overtook his body.
There was a silence between the five people as they slowly walked over the debris and saw the destruction all around them. Beka glanced at Doyle who seemed to be calmer than she would have expected, considering these caves were once her home.
"Dylan, I don't like this turning up after the event, weren't we always better at timing than this?" Beka remarked, needing to break the silence.
"Weren't we once a crew who actually gave a damn?" Rhade asked.
"Who invited him along?" Beka threw back.
"If you two are going to start up again we'll turn around now and we'll go home," Dylan stressed, and heard stifled sniggers from both Trance and Doyle. "Without wishing to sound like my father, can I just ask that you two play nicely so we can determine what happened here? Find any evidence of survivors."
Both Rhade and Beka reluctantly agreed, and soon focused once more on their surroundings.
"Harper's home is this way," Doyle gestured, and began to lead the way.
"We should split up, cover more ground," Dylan suggested. "Doyle, Beka you go check on Harper's quarters, Rhade, Trance with me, we'll check what I assume is Marika's quarters, this way?" Dylan gestured and Doyle just nodded her head to agree and they split into their respective parties.
With caution Beka and Doyle approached Harper's workshop and stepped inside. Immediately, Beka was reminded of her last visit, seeing Rommie and she had to stop herself from saying something, knowing Rommie's remains were now safely stored on the Andromeda, taken from this hell by Dylan during his last visit.
Doyle immediately moved to one of the work benches and she crouched down, touching the leg of the bench.
"What is it?" Beka asked.
"Harper was here, these bindings," Doyle picked then up from the ground. "They were around him, and they kept him tied to this post."
"How can you know that?" Beka asked incredulously.
"This is Harper's blood," Doyle gestured to the red marks on the bindings and a few drops on the floor and post.
"You can't know that," Beka dismissed.
"I know Harper's blood," Doyle remained adamant, and stood up to move across the room to his quarters. "This place has been turned over."
"How can you tell?" Beka questioned. "It looks like the usual mess Harper lives in," she remarked.
"They caught him here, but I don't think he put up much of a fight," Doyle observed the layout of the debris.
"Doyle, quit being all weird and stop jumping to the conclusions," Beka demanded.
"I'm not, I just don't see any weapon discharge or any kind of evidence of a struggle," Doyle remained calm. "Harper must have been tied up over there before they arrived, like he was left there to be found."
"That's some leap you're making," Beka frowned. "So tell me, master detective, where's Harper now?"
"He's not here, and he's been gone a while," Doyle answered without pause.
"Is he," Beka couldn't finish her words, but didn't have to.
"I don't know," Doyle answered.
"At least that's a semi normal response," Beka sighed. "Let's see if the others have found anything."
For the second time, Harper woke up feeling disorientated but his headache and illness were gone this time. For a moment he lay where he was and gathered his senses before wearily opening his eyes. Immediately squinting to the light, Harper felt the small breeze and felt the natural earth under him. He was outside, and could hear the sound of water nearby.
"What the hell," Harper managed, and pushed himself up onto his elbows, feeling dampness on his back from the ground he'd been lying on. "Marika?" he called out with hope.
His senses wavered slightly, and Harper felt light headed whilst he gathered his wits. The air was pungent with aromas, and possibly toxic he considered, feeling congestion in his lungs still. Trees and thick foliage surrounded him, and he felt weak as he tried to move a little more. With effort he made his way to the rocks and used them to stand upright, immediately feeling nausea and dizziness as he attempted to remain standing. Using the trees he stumbled forward still disorientated as he continued to move. It was all too much and he fell forward, landing on something sharp before drawing his arm close to himself, having felt a stab of pain.
"Damn," Harper snapped in annoyance and used the water from the stream to clean the graze from dirt.
Breathing heavily now, Harper did feel a little more together and continued on his way, making small progress as he tried to remember where he was.
TBC