Everything Andromeda is owned by Tribune et al.
Set right after The Others.
Of Bricks and Walls
He stands in front of his console, holding on to it, painfully aware that the ride is a lot rougher than usual. He can feel her eyes time and again burying themselves into his back instead of remaining focused on the pilot's station and the monitors. At a particularly nasty jolt, that threatens to almost throw him off his feet, he almost snaps at her, but bites off his remark. Not while they are in slipstream. Finally he breathes out relieved, when they exit at last.
„Andromeda, where are we?"
„The Carella-Nebula," is the prompt answer. He turns around, his eyebrows raised inquiringly.
„That close to Commonwealth space?"
Beka Valentine just shruggs indifferently.
„We're far enough to be safe from their scouts – and bounty-hunters." She gives him a hard look. „You said: ‚Anywhere but here.'"
„I was just wondering," he replies with a sigh. He searches her face. Something is not right – and it's getting worse. Their talk hasn't helped much. She didn't even listen him out... When he'd been infected it was as if she didn't even care about whether he died or not. And now she is just furious, her anger even more scary as it is a cold, controlled, reigned-in rage.
They are alone on the bridge, it is late and he's been even before this slipstream trip from hell on his last pair of legs after what he's been through. She looks fine, just somehow not herself in her destructive icyness.
„Anything bothering you?" he asks, trying to sound casually. Last thing he needs right now is another one of the pointless, hurting, accusatory discussions that seem to become routine between the two of them.
„Would there be anything worth bothering me?" she asks in a brittling tone.
„I... don't know...?" he ventures hesitatingly.
„I mean," she then continues, biting irony dripping from her words, „you just took care in such a glorious way of everything, blasting out that wall, haven't you now, Dylan? And you even had Harper and Rhade both applauding your actions with utmost conviction!"
He blinks at the sarcasm.
„You didn't say something about not approving."
„You didn't ask. You didn't even have the courtesy to inform me about your plans. You just started shooting."
He is surprised. That's not what he had expected. She might have a point there. As his XO he should have informed her of his plans to blast the wall away, that had been separating the Northerners and Southerners of Trillon for ages. But he had been too eager to just get done and be out of there, a bit under shock about his close brush with death and truly didn't see any flaws in his plan. Still doesn't.
„You don't approve?"
„Dylan, have you even stopped to think it all through?" She hisses her question through gritted teeth at him.
„Well, yes..." He feels his own conviction wavering. „Rhade and Harper seemed to think it a good idea, too."
„Rhade, Harper, you!" she exclaims disdainfully. „Tell me, why do you think, with so little gender-specific behaviour left around, that men still have this amazing tendency to go for the easy way?"
To point out that this isn't likely to change as long as, gender-specific behaviour on the retreat or not, women won't suppress their amazing tendency to out of the blue explode in anger, doesn't seem like a smart move at the moment. Not that she is exploding. If anything, she is freezing up. He feels anger of his own starting to grow slowly. And then she baffles him: within a fraction of a second, he sees her eyes clouding over, getting blurry, her face softening up. A distant, unpleasant memory mentally tugs his sleeve, trying to surface, but he can't put his finger down to it and after just an instant pushes it away. With an uneasy puzzlement he sees her shrug in a helpless, defeated manner.
„Beka!" It takes him but a few strides to reach her. He pulls her into his arms. „Beka!" he repeats even softer, holding her tightly and gently rubbing his hand up and down her back. At first she stiffens up, but then he feels her arms close around his waist, while she buries her head into his chest as if she'd like to block the world away from sight, as if she'd want to stay there, never to leave again. He keeps silent, waits. He is in vain searching for the right words to say. He has no idea what might be wrong. They just stand there in silence, for a long while.
„Why do people always have to tear down walls?" When she finally speaks, it almost startles him. He has to concentrate in order to be able to distinguish the words she says into his sweater. The question confuses him, too.
„Because walls that high have never managed to make anyone feel protected, secured..." he answers tentatively. „Because you can't do anything else but hide behind them..."
„What's wrong with hiding?"
„It isn't a long term strategy," he tells her, sounding very much like the captain of the Andromeda Ascendant speaking to delegates of the Commonwealth, while Dylan Hunt keeps stroking her shoulders. „And whatever hides behind them: innocence, freedom, humanity can't survive there."
He feels her face turning away from his body and to the side. Her left cheek comes to rest against him. At least he now can hear her better. But she holds on to him, preventing him from looking at her while she speaks.
„What if the walls manage however to hide things that should better remain locked away? What if they simply hide armours, masks, hatred, infamies, graves?"
He doesn't have to see her face. Her voice is thick with tears. His arms close even tighter around her.
„Then tearing them down offers a chance to deal with it all. Destroying the walls doesn't mean that you can't remember, that you shouldn't look back. You can turn the page without tearing it out."
„So is it just me who is frightened? Am I the crazy one here?" she asks in a child-like voice.
„No, we all are afraid: that the change will be even more dreadful than the horrors we've grown accustomed to, that we won't be able to meet the challenges, that history abandons those of us who need more time to adjust. But it makes you stronger." He tries to make it sound as convincing as possible.
„Why not do it gently? Bring it down brick by brick instead of blowing it all up?"
„It takes too much time, gives the ones hiding behind it a chance to reconsider, to bury away the... how did you call it? Infamies, the graves..."
„Those you can't take away. Certainly not by taking down the wall."
She places her hands against his chest, pushing him slightly away, finally allowing him to look at her, while she searches for his eyes. Her face looks delicate, almost transparent.
„You are a dreamer. You will never be able to tear down the walls in their heads. They are much taller, stronger than even that monstrous line they'd drawn in the sand. No-one can tear those down... Ever! And even if you should succeed, you'll never wipe out the wounds they have inflicted!"
Her voice sounds matter-of-factly, resigned, there is hopelessness in her smoky eyes.
„Beka," he tries again to engulf her in his embrace, warm her up, comfort her, but she withdraws herself from his arms, until she is just out of reach, looking at him steadfastly. He sighs. „Beka, is this still about the Trillon-system?" he finally asks, almost cringing upon seeing her straightening herself up and backing further away.
Her lips part, but she remains silent, only her eyes crying out at him to help her. He feels how fear and despair threaten to engulf him, as he stands there numbed by the realisation that he can't help her, that something is even more wrong than he thought, worse maybe than he can face up to right now. Or at all.
„Beka," he pleads, „we can tear down the wall, no matter how tall..." His voice sounds almost begging, but lacks conviction. And she hears it. She swiftly approaches him and cupps his cheek with her hand. For a brief moment he feels strangely comforted by the fact that he recognises the same despair in her as he is feeling. It doesn't last.
She steps back and turns around, slowly walking away towards the doors.
„Beka..."
She stops in the corridor just outside the entrance, throwing him a last sad look.
„And then? he hears her asking, „What if the only thing behind the wall are always only more walls, Dylan Hunt?"