Tyr stood alone. It didn't surprise Beka but somewhere deep inside, it annoyed her. He'd come because it was required of him. These events bored him as much as they did her. All the fancy clothing and fancy music and fancy food. Okay, the food was nice—really nice. The rest of it might have been better if she were the drinking type. But she wasn't.
If Tyr were just going to sulk and brood anyway, he damn well could have done it with her.
Not that she was going to go over to him. She stared long and hard enough to get his attention, then moved to a table near the dance floor. Dylan and Rommie shuffled along in a graceful two step to some song that must have been at least two-thousand years old. They chatted as they danced, their words buried in the music. He spun Rommie and she didn't miss a step. Beka wondered if Harper had programmed dancing ability on purpose or if it was an old High Guard standard for stuffy events like these. At least Dylan was having fun.
Trance and Harper had been headed here earlier but she didn't—Familiar laughter bubbled up behind and a plate of powder crusted cookies and a steaming cup of coffee appeared before her. Trance's smiling face next, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed.
"Brought you something to cheer you up," she said and flopped down on the seat beside her. Before Beka could ask where Harper had gotten to—or what trouble he was getting into without his built-in chaperon—he too showed with two drinks in hand. A large blue cocktail with a piece of fruit cut into a snowflake on the side went to Trance while Harper took an impressive gulp from a glass of some dark ale like Beka's father used to enjoy. Thick enough to chew, Ignacius used to say with a smile. Back when her father could do no wrong. The good old days.
"For a fancy dress party, this is pretty nice," Harper said with a smile that brought out the dimples in his cheeks and made him look like a boy. Especially since he'd lost the suit jacket he flew down in and loosened his tie to just the right amount of disheveled for this time of night. It brought her back to the first Salvager's Guild Winter Ball after she'd brought him aboard the Maru. He'd gorged himself on food and alcohol and had gotten in a fistfight with the Guild Master's future son-in-law over what Harper claimed was just an innocent dance. Likely story.
Beka hoped Dylan understood how lucky he was that Harper was mostly tame now. Mostly.
"Yeah, the food's great."
Okay, she could try to be a little more enthusiastic. This was what they'd been working for over the last three years. A restored Commonwealth; peace, joy, and happiness in the Universe. A united front against the Magog and the Abyss. She was happy. She was. She just didn't much care for politics or for these parties that reminded her of the dinners her father held to woo rich clients. She and Rafe had donned their fancy clothes and their best smiles. Perfect, well behaved Valentines. Not perfect enough, though. More often than not, those contracts fell through and Ignacius Valentine disappeared onto a Drift for a few days, returning to the Maru just to sleep.
As a child Beka had thought New Year's was a magical time where she could change her entire life if she wished hard enough on a star. New beginnings. New and wondrous adventures. At 42? That ship had flown through the slipstream and exited straight into the corona of that wishing star.
Trance's brow bunched up in the center now, her eyes on Beka, as if she understood. Beka wondered sometimes what her counterpart in the future must have told this older Trance during their years alone together. A lot, judging by the look in Trance's eyes.
"The cookies kind of melt in your mouth. They're amazing," Trance said after another moment of silence, face smoothing into another bright smile. Beka also wondered if, in moments like these, Trance ran through her possible futures before she chose her next move. Like Dylan observing his Go board. Prod, or leave it be? She'd chosen wisely to leave it be. Beka wasn't in the mood to bare her soul.
On stage, the band struck up a tune heavy on the horns. Harper bobbed his head to the quick beat, gave Beka an unreadable look, caught somewhere between duty and desire, then held his hand out to Trance.
"May I have this dance?"
Trance gave Beka a smile that said 'sorry' and took Harper's hand. They crossed over to the dance floor, leaving their drinks behind. Dylan and Rommie were no longer dancing, but another ship's Captain had drawn them into conversation across the hall. No company there. She turned her eyes back to Harper and Trance and wished they'd stayed a bit longer. She didn't blame them, though. They were young and in love and didn't need a grumpy third wheel hanging on.
God, she was getting old.
"What does he think he is going to accomplish," Tyr asked a moment later and her heart jumped into her throat at the unexpected boom of his voice.
"Excuse me?" Beka wrinkled her brow. "Who?"
"Harper." Tyr took the chair beside her and turned it around backward and sat with his legs splayed and arms folded across the back of the chair, dark eyes on the happy couple. "She's not human. We have no idea what she is."
Damn, she thought she was cynical. Old argument, though. They'd tread this ground plenty already, yet here they were again as if he didn't know how to read a map and figure out a different path to take with her.
"They've been going out for nearly six months, and you're just now bringing this up? I don't think he's out to accomplish anything. I think he's succeeded in finding someone who can not only put up with him but enjoys it. And, I think Harper knows more about what she is than we do."
Out on the dance floor, Harper had brought out some fancy footwork and Trance laughed as she looked on. He then took her hands again and flung her wide, her braids flying out behind her like the rays of a sun. Happy. Unaware—or maybe fully aware and uncaring—that someone else on the crew didn't understand or agree with their relationship.
"He's going to marry her." Deadpan. Matter of fact. It was a conclusion all of them had come to as the relationship between the two had grown stronger with each passing month. Through arguments and stony silences on Command; through more brushes with death than Beka wanted to count; through Harper's insecurities and Trance's secrets—somehow their friendship and love had come out on top. All of Harper's jokes about planets of adoring women couldn't hide that he was the marrying type. Of course, he was going to marry Trance if Trance was willing.
"Good for them," Beka said with a tone that she hoped would brook no argument. Trance and Harper were her crew—her family. Not even Tyr would threaten their happiness. Especially not with his Nietzschean BS.
"They can't have children together. What is in it for him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Love, companionship, that feeling that someone is always going to be there for you." She stood and looked him directly in the eyes. "Regular sex." Not that she was bitter or anything.
She turned and moved towards the door. Part of her didn't want to have this conversation. Not again. Not here. The other part dared him to follow and see it through to the end. Maybe she'd finally know where she stood where Tyr Anasazi and his god damn pride were concerned.
"I've offended you." He pulled in beside her in the hall just beyond the door.
"No, but I hope you don't plan on telling Harper you point-of-view. I think children are the last thing on their mind and if they do get married and you do anything but smile and wish them congratulations on their wedding night, you will offend me." She caught his eyes again. "It isn't a good idea to do that."
Tyr's expression remained impassive save for a tiny, almost imperceptible rise of his brows. "I would imagine not."
Always so smooth and immovable. Would it kill him to show a bit of emotion?
The hall ended in a pair of intricate glass doors that led to the Senate Gardens. Beka pushed through and it was liking crossing the veil into a frigid wasteland Harper'd had the nerve to call a winter wonderland earlier, as if it were something to behold. Though, she had to admit, if it weren't so damn cold out, it might have been beautiful with snow piled up on tree branches and well-pruned shrubs. The entire scene glowed by the light of a single silver moon—like something out of a romance novel.
She had no destination in mind. No purpose in coming out here. Maybe she'd thought Tyr wouldn't follow. Maybe she'd hoped he would. He confused her. Angered her. All of his stubbornness and quiet judgments. Those abs so perfect and smooth she'd never wanted to touch anything more and full lips that practically begged her to kiss them—What did he think he would achieve? He kept her balancing on the edge of a blade. Uncertain. Uncomfortable. She hated it. Enough was enough.
Beka stopped and turned around, satisfied that her sudden movement had thrown him off balance enough he stumbled over his feet. The recovery was quick. He drew himself to his full height and looked down on her as if he sensed the brewing storm.
"You know what, Tyr. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of your arguments and your philosophies and your god damn Nietzschean superiority." She took a deep breath, just getting started. "You think you have it all figured out. Spend your life making yourself the perfect specimen. Find a wife and hope you've built yourself up enough the Matriarch of her family approves. You know what you're missing out on?"
Tyr blinked.
"My—I—," he stuttered then started again. "Do enlighten me."
Something welled up inside, a sort of recklessness fed by his surprise. For once, she had the upper hand.
"Love, Tyr," she said with emphasis. "Passion too. Not everything in life has a purpose. Not every relationship is about having children. Life isn't about perfection. It's about finding what's perfect in the mess and you're just—blind. You're blind to what is right in front of you."
Was it the cold that took her breath away? Her lungs burned as she sucked in the icy air but she didn't feel the cold anymore. It was as if her insides had become a furnace hot enough to melt the snow. Fueled by that heat, she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. They were as soft as she'd imagined. His body hard in contrast. The chill came back. Fire where he touched her, ice everywhere else. Goosebumps on her exposed neck and arms because she hadn't thought to grab her jacket.
There was spice in the air. Wine on his lips. He grunted and bent down to meet her. Circled his arms around her waist and held her against him so she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. He tried to take control, to dominate, but she bit his lip and continued at her pace, breathing him in, reveling in the feel of this forbidden moment.
Heart in her throat, she pulled away. Watched the emotions play on his face, one after the other before he smoothed them away. He held himself a little less certain now. His eyes searched her face as if her secrets might be read there.
"You know where to find me later," she said, took a deep breath to calm herself, and stepped away. Turned right around and walked back into the building, brushing passed couples and small groups heading outside for the midnight fireworks display. His gaze followed. She could feel it on her back. Inside now, warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. She leaned against the wall, laughed softly, and smiled. Giddy, like she'd gotten into the wine too. Maybe there was magic on New Year's Eve. Maybe there was such a thing as new beginnings.