Disclaimer: I don't owe Andromeda and its characters.
Set in S5, right after "The Test".
Warnings: None really. Language maybe, a little...
Testing matters
"Beka, are you in there?"
Dylan Hunt stood in front of the doors of the Eureka Maru, hesitating to go in. It had been three days since the untimely death of Prius, three days since the mysterious stranger, who came through the Route of Ages, had put them to the test – shooting Dylan in the end, three days since they had found themselves again as a team. He had been happy, three days ago – happier anyway than ever since his arrival in this godforsaken system. However, it wasn't meant to last.
Two days ago the feeling of friendship, trust and silent understanding had vanished – yet again. Well, not with all of them, thank Heavens! Trance had remained her sweet and caring, if still not very coherent self, but Dylan had grown accustomed to it, so it didn't really bother him; old Harper had miraculously emerged from under the emotional debris three years alone on Seefra had inflicted on him, Doyle was as efficient and loyal as one could wish for. And even Rhade had remained faithful to his vow to quit drinking from one moment to another, the old trustworthy, capable and reliable High Guard he once was resurfacing step by remarkably quick step.
And then there was Beka. A heavy sigh escaped Dylan's lips, as he still waited for his first officer's reply. He had missed his crew, all of his crew, in a way he never would have thought possible, and he had mourned because of what Seefra had turned them into, never though losing hope that the metamorphosis was reversible. But losing Beka to that selfish, greedy, self-pitying and vindictive person who bore Beka's face, smiled Beka's smile, spoke with her voice and even showed some of her most desirable and lovely attributes – her sparkling sense of humor, her courage, wits, her mastership at piloting –, losing Beka to that mocking image of herself had almost proven a load too heavy to bear. And getting old Beka back had felt like the most precious gift Dylan had ever been rewarded with. It somehow figured that he didn't get to keep it...
The very day after their happy, joyful reunion Beka had withdrawn once more. Her manner polite and efficient, she had kept her distance from him ever since, avoiding him as much as she could, doing whatever was asked of her without protest nor fault, yet refusing to allow Dylan even the slightest glimpse of the old friendship that they once called theirs. It puzzled and it hurt him, it even made him mad. For this friendship had been there three days ago, he had felt it, recognized it, wrapped himself in it, finding it just as warm and cozy and protecting as he remembered it. What had happened since, Dylan could only guess... He knew that she blamed him for stranding them on Seefra, but he had thought the issue somehow put to rest. He knew she held a grudge against him for having accused her of disloyalty because of Jonah Draeger. But he had hoped that the two of them would now be allowed a chance to work these matters out and get done with them.
For that they had to talk! Three says ago they had begun a cautious, yet warm and friendly conversation after she had walked him home that evening to the compound he had inherited from Flavin; it was set at the outskirts of the so-called town, and the Eureka Maru's landing place was right behind it. They had talked quietly, sharing some memories, some old jokes and laughter over a glass of water, but with him still worn out from the ordeals of the day (the shot he took had actually been quite painful and his ribs felt still sore) and almost sleeping on his feet, Beka had discreetly decided to call it a night, leaving their talk for some other day. Unfortunately, however, that other day never came.
He had risen late, and by the time they met again at lunch the walls around Beka were already firmly back in place.
-
"Beka, are you there?" he tried anew. "May I come in?"
The doors of the Maru opened all of a sudden, revealing a greasy, sweaty Beka in the background of the ship's entrance.
"Dylan!" the Maru's captain exclaimed in a surprised tone. Not pleasantly surprised, though, Dylan couldn't help noticing. "Did I miss something? I thought you didn't need me until tonight to take you and Harper to the Andromeda," she said, slowly coming nearer.
"That's right. You didn't miss anything..." the High Guard captain sheepishly replied.
"Ah! Well, then, if you'll excuse me... I have some work to do here on the Maru."
"Something I can help you with?"
She looked at him, again slightly surprised, again not in a pleasant way, he presumed.
"Just the airing systems," she lightly dismissed his offer. "Surely you've got better, more important things to do."
"Not really, no," Dylan threw in, firmly decided not to back down from this. Irritated by his insistence, Beka looked at him with furrowed brows, her eyes as uninviting as ever, before she stepped back from the airlock to let him pass.
"Okay, thanks!" she said. "Do come in." Giving Dylan a nanowelder, Beka turned on her heels and disappeared into the Maru's depths towards the engine room. More than just a little startled by her abrupt manner, Dylan stared after her before following her in. They worked in silence for a while, only speaking up when needing to consult with each other about this or that conduit that demanded mending.
"Beka..." Dylan finally gathered up his courage to speak up, "I meant to ask you something..." There was no reply. "Beka?"
"Hm? What? Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Beka at long last responded, throwing a quick glance at the panel he was working on. "It's the dark blade of the fourth rotor that will have to go, I'm afraid." She silently supervised him performing the removal.
"I know that," Dylan said, sounding slightly offended. "I do get my hands dirty once in a while, you know."
"Go figure! Once in a long while, I bet," Beka muttered. She picked up a towel and rubbed her greasy hands clean, concentrating on the task as if her life depended on it. "Alright, Dylan, spit it out," she finally sighed in resignation. "What are you here about?"
He scrupulously finished the repairs, replacing the cover of the panel neatly back on and putting his tools in their respective pockets. Rubbing his dirty hands off his pants, Dylan slid down the bulkhead and sat himself on the deck, pensively gazing up at his XO's face.
"Why are you mad at me, Beka?" he quietly asked in the end. He saw her eyes cloud over – sadness, anger, contempt? – as she rose her head to look at him.
"I'm not mad at you, Dylan."
"So I guess you're just avoiding me because you found out that I've become an unnerving small-talker?"
She couldn't help but chuckle at his ironic remark. Picturing Dylan as a small-talker was truly a feast. But her smile faded quickly as she recalled her conversation with the others that night three days ago.
-
She had left him quickly, realizing that not only he seemed truly exhausted, but also that she had herself not really come to terms with the day's events.
The scheming, plotting, fencing with Harper and Rhade, the psycho-games with the stranger and finally seeing Dylan lying dead at her feet had taken her toll on her, too. Walking towards the Maru, Beka knew for sure that finding peace and rest was out of the question. So she decided promptly to turn around and go over to Harper's bar, hoping to find some distraction there.
They were all there but Doyle: Harper serving drinks, Rhade and Trance on bar stools keeping him company. Seeing them smile at her in greeting made Beka feel all fuzzy and warm inside. She hadn't felt that way in a long, long time – and it was a good feeling.
"Beks!" Harper exclaimed. "Where have you been?"
"Walking Dylan home," she said, joining them at the bar.
"Tucked him in properly, I trust?" Rhade joked, lifting his glass with some green juice inside, saluting her and grinning.
"Not quite," she laughed at him, "he's a big boy and can manage to put himself to bed alone now."
"Hear, hear!" Harper said dryly.
They all roared with laughter. Dylan's rather promiscuous way of getting involved with just about every woman crossing his path had calmed down considerably on Seefra. Whether it was lack of interest, opportunity or energy they couldn't really tell, but all of them had noticed. It had left them puzzled, least of all though Beka, who always had suspected him to be somewhat of a one-trick pony, capable of focusing and excelling at only just one thing at a time: first the Commonwealth, then women; and now he wanted the Andromeda operational and them out of Seefra. Well, at least he now is back to a task I can relate to a bit more, Beka thought slightly amused.
"You're smiling," Trance said quietly, interrupting the blonde's musings. "That's a good sight."
The captain of the Eureka Maru threw her arm around the shoulders of the lovely presence next to her and forced her attention back to the present.
"Feels good, too," she admitted.
Trance nodded, but then frowned lightly.
"Dylan – was he alright?"
"Yeah, fine, he was just tired."
"Oh, I can imagine," the golden alien reflected thoughtfully. "It must have cost him a lot to get back to us... He really is no good at tesseracting and this whole thing of being a Paradine, shifting through time and space... and stuff..." she babbled on in a happy little voice. "It must have scared him, too, experiencing death so suddenly..." Her sweet, innocent chatter trailed off and died on her lips, as she noticed the others staring at her – wide-eyed, completely still.
"You mean..." Harper stammered, while Rhade lifted up the Terran's hand, that was holding a bottle of juice, so he wouldn't pour the contents all over the place, "you mean... he really died?"
Her brown eyes enormous, Trance slowly looked from one of her friends to the other.
"Why – yes, of course! What did you think?"
Beka swallowed convulsively, then reached out for the juice glass Harper had offered her and slowly took a sip. Placing it down with care and biting her lips, that somehow seemed still dry in spite of the liquid, she then looked back to Trance:
"But he knew all along that he would come back, right Trance?" The gentle being didn't reply immediately. "Right, Trance?" Beka insisted.
"Well, I suspect that Dylan somehow hoped that he would be able to pull this off, but I don't think he actually 'knew'; see, Beka, he doesn't really understand that much about what he can and can't do, how things work. So he's... taking his chances... I think," she said, twisting her lips. "But he did well now, didn't he?" she concluded smiling radiantly at them all, like a small child particularly pleased with a magician's trick. Slowly though her smile froze up, as she saw her friends staring at her aghast.
Pushing himself with both hands away from the counter and lowering his head between his shoulders, Harper could be heard muttering something under his breath, that sounded suspiciously close to 'F...ck!'.
Disenchanted, Trance eyed them a bit perplexed.
"You don't think he did well?"
Wearily, Rhade rubbed a hand across his face.
"Oh yes, Trance, he did well," he then said in a distant tone, drowned his glass and left the bar, patting the golden girl lightly on the shoulder as he walked past her.
Looking from Harper's still bowed head to Beka's blank expression, Trance couldn't suppress a feeling of anxiety creeping up in her.
"What?" she asked in a trembling voice, apparently close to tears. And then, as neither Beka nor Harper answered her, repeated again: "What?"
With a slight shake of her shoulders Beka got rid of the stupor she had fallen into and returned to life.
"He knew he might be able to survive all this, but thought that there was a possibility for him to die and stay dead?" she asked almost whispering. Harper raised his head.
"Well," Trance apologetically trailed off again, "there are always more than just one possible outcomes, a full load of possibilities..."
"Did you know of his plan?" Beka suddenly shot a direct, sharp question at her.
"Why... yes... sort of..."
"But, Trance, why then did you let him go through with it?" Harper exploded angrily.
"Well, you three didn't exactly put up a fight to keep him safe, either, you know!" the petite woman accusingly threw back into his face. Their eyes locked, hers wet and pleading, his blazing with rage and ice-cold. It was a silent battle she eventually lost. Turning around with a desperate sob, Trance almost ran out of the bar, leaving Harper and Beka alone and in stunned silence.
"It's not her fault, you know," Beka stated calmly after a short while.
"Oh no?" Harper asked back, not seeming appeased at all.
"No," she said firmly. "She doesn't remember – well, not everything, acting mostly on instinct nowadays. Besides: she never could really influence an outcome..."
"I don't expect her to. But she at least should have tried to influence him... talk him out of this..."
"Talk Dylan out of something he set his mind on doing? Right! Come on, Seamus! You know better than that."
He gave her a long, pensive look.
"I guess..." he finally said after clearing his throat twice, " I guess I'd better go checking on Trance. She seemed pretty upset..."
"Yes, do that! I'll see to the bar."
"Thanks, Bek'!" he said and hurried briskly towards the doors. Reaching them he turned around and looked back:
"It wasn't her fault, right Beks?"
"No, Harper, it wasn't," Beka answered him quietly. And as she watched him nod and disappear into the darkness, a thought shot through her mind: It was mine!
-
"Beka?" Dylan's voice sounded firm, unwavering. He was going to get his answers this time. She shook her head, chasing away the memories and looked at him with troubled, rapidly blinking eyes. Pushing himself up again, he slowly approached her and took hold of her shoulders, letting his hands slowly rub down her arms until they met her own, his fingers firmly closing around them. "Beka, what's the matter?"
She shook her head anew and tried to pull away from his grasp. He didn't allow it.
"We had a talk with Trance," she then informed him briskly.
He let go of her and stepped back a little, offering her some space. At least she's finally talking, he thought relieved, but puzzled.
"What about?" he asked slowly, his eyes clearly betraying both his curiosity as well as his failure to see where this was going.
Beka sighed.
"About you," she then answered, looking into his eyes.
A little smile spread on his lips.
"That's funny, I didn't feel my ears burning," he lightly joked, but stopped seeing her frown. "Okay, you talked to Trance about me. And?" Dylan urged her, more serious now.
"When the stranger shot you... You didn't know you'll survive!"
"I suspected it strongly," he shrugged dismissively.
"But you didn't know!" Beka told him bluntly, a pained look on her face.
He took a deep breath, looking annoyed and out of patience.
"Beka," he exclaimed forcefully, "don't tell me that this is all about the fact that I didn't have 100 percent certainty on the outcome of this matter!"
"Why not?"
"Because that's stupid! Of course I didn't know for sure. There is no absolute certainty!" Exasperated, Dylan brushed his hands through his hair, slightly turning aside.
"So you took the risk to sacrifice yourself for... for what, Dylan?"
Hands on his hips, head bowed, he had started to pace around the cramped space.
"Dylan, why?"
"Because." He was going to be stubborn. "What does it matter why?"
"It matters to me!" she shouted.
"Oh yeah? All of a sudden? Now it matters?!" His voice was cold, sarcastic.
Not hearing a reply he stopped and faced her. He gasped: she was crying, tears silently running down her cheeks. And then he moved, closing in on her and pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace.
Beka stiffened and began to fight him off, pushing against his chest and finally hitting it with her fists, as soon as she had some space to do so. He simply let it happen.
"You..." she breathed heavily, pressing the words out in between the punches, "you... are... incorrigible. I... hate... you! I... just hate you! You... and your... heroics!... Why? Why do you... always... have to... bargain with... your life?"
Her rage dried out, eventually. As she stood there panting, only inches away from him, Dylan finally placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head up.
"Are you finished?" he asked her calmly. Beka merely looked at him defiantly. "Very well," Dylan continued dryly. "I'm bargaining with my life, because I have nothing left to bargain with any more. My life, my choice," he stated matter-of-factly, "and please, don't tell me, Beka, that four days ago you – or any of the others – actually gave a damn'."
"Of course I did. We all did!"
"Oh, really?"
Her eyes piercing through his, Beka grabbed his arms:
"You're my responsibility. Do you understand that? It is my foremost duty to see to it that you're safe. You are our captain, you are the soul and heart of this crew, you're Paradine..."
"Oh yes," Dylan interrupted her, pulling away from her grasp and laughing bitterly. "Captain of what, Beka? A ship that's dead in space, a crew that doesn't care? This," he looked around him, his nostrils flaring, his mouth twisted in pain, "this, Beka, is Tarn Vedra or what is left of it after the Vedrans cut it off from slipstream. Paradine are nothing else but evolved Vedrans, genetically altered, engineered, enhanced or... whatever, I have no clue, really!" he concluded helpless."
"Okay," Beka conceded. "Still: this doesn't change the fact that I'm sick and tired of having you run around the galaxies and put your life at risk, binding me – us all – to you, as if you were some... larger-than-life figure. I am sick and tired, Dylan, of having to stand in awe, worshipping you and your... accomplishments, never knowing who you are, what you are and how far you will and can go..."
"Welcome to the club," he muttered angrily.
"Dylan..."
"Leave it, Beka!" he growled at her, his voice deep and hoarse.
"No, not this time, I'm through with 'leaving it' because you want me to, because it's not the right time or because..."
"Beka, I said: leave it!" he barked at her anew. Silence fell between them.
"Why? Why should I?" she then asked in an even tone.
"Because, Captain Valentine, I just can't take it anymore!" Dylan hissed through clenched teeth, his thundering voice sharply in contrast to his words.
They stood both there, glaring at each other, both furious, hurt and puzzled.
"What exactly is it you 'can't take anymore'?" she finally inquired, her tone polite and cautious. He shook his head, refusing her an answer. "May I remind you that you were the one who came here to talk? Well, talk now! Go on! Talk!" she ordered sharply.
His eyes so large they seemed to almost consume his entire face, Dylan swallowed visibly. Looking around himself frantically like a cornered animal, he backed off until the bulkhead met his shoulders.
"This is insane," he said lowly. "You want to know what I am? Well, wouldn't we all! I used to be Dylan Hunt, captain of the High Guard flag ship Andromeda Ascendant, a Commonwealth officer with family, friends and prospects for the future." His voice was flat and even. "And that was really all I ever wanted to be. But then I became a survivor of a holocaust and later on the guy who saw his dream of a restored Commonwealth – impossible as it seemed at first – come true with the help of a jolly band of... misfits, of whom I used to be a friend..."
Looking into his face, Beka saw him slowly plunge into despair. Aware that they betrayed him, he slowly closed his eyes, continuing:
"And then I was on Seefra, no longer a captain, no longer Commonwealth, no longer your friend." He shot her a pained look. "Come on, Beka, tell me, how big are the chances? Hm? How probable is it to lose a universe twice in a lifetime? Eh? What do you think? Tell me!" he taunted sharply. "Come on! Tell me! What are the odds?"
"Dylan," Beka sounded gently, carefully approaching him with an outstretched hand like someone trying to reach for a panicked horse without frightening it further, "you're still captain, you're still our friend – and now you've even found your home and your true heritage. Maybe you are less High Guard, but you're more Paradine." It didn't seem to help.
"What?" He shook his head unbelievingly. "You just don't get it, do you? Beka, I don't know squat about Paradine." He laughed up bitterly. "Turns out I don't know much about anything at all. My home is not my home, my father not my father. Oh no, I do know something: that I left behind my friends, the Commonwealth, those people on Arkology, my crew to..." He stopped, searching for words. "To wake up to... this?" he finally concluded. "I'm not perfect, Beka, I've been a fool, a jerk, I've even been a loser from time to time... But now I'm just a coward, a traitor... and an idiot."
"What are you talking about?"
"I left you all – to die! Back at Arkology I left you..."
His tortured whisper left Beka utterly speechless. She tried to reason with him.
"You thought the others dead, you thought me gone, the battle lost..."
"It doesn't matter, Beka. It really doesn't matter," Dylan answered tiredly. "No matter why I did it, I shouldn't have done it at all."
"But Trance..."
"It wasn't her fault. She gave advice. It was my choice to follow or ignore it..."
He was right, of course. Beka knew it, and knew that she couldn't argue with him. He was voicing exactly what she had thought all along. And yet... She watched him sadly as he slid down the bulkhead and settled himself on the deck, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in his hands. Clearing her throat she ventured:
"So this was... what? Repentance? Payment for old sins?" She sat down next to him. "Dylan, you're right, you know that. You screwed up. But we all did. The minute we knew the worldship was near, we should have called in the fleet. We should have left Arkology to their own devices, when noticing that they didn't want to fight. Rhade shouldn't have thought with his... well, he shouldn't have; and me, I shouldn't have deserted and..." Her voice failed her, but then she slowly picked up on her thoughts again.
"Anyway, we're here now – and I admit that things are bad. But three days ago I realized that with you dead they would be even worse. For all it's worth, Dylan, we're friends, we are one crew and we're in this together..."
He looked at her profile.
"What are you saying, Beka?"
"I'm saying that I'd like you in the future to come up with better ideas to prove your point to us than letting someone shoot you."
Taking his hand and intertwining her fingers with his, Beka came nearer to him until their shoulders were touching.
"You lost a lot. So have we – and I for one know now that losing you would be definitely one loss too many. I... no matter how mad I might be with you, Dylan, I... really, really need you."
"I need you too."
She couldn't suppress a grin.
"I know that!" she said squeezing his hand. "Let's face it, your Paradine faculties do seem rather... underdeveloped. And I somehow don't think that this will improve dramatically sometime in the near future. So: you need the Maru - and me to fly you around."
He laughed, the tension lifting.
"Just you wait, Valentine! One day I might just get it, and then you all will beg me to take you for a ride..."
"You wish, Hunt... We'll all be out of here long before you have it all figured out..." Beka said joining in his laughter. "So: what do you say? Since we're stuck with this 'bucket of bolts' – shall we get on with the repairs... 'dear one'? she asked standing up and offering a hand to help him up as well, grinning at him broadly, mischief in her eyes.
"Don't you too start on me, Beka," Dylan sighed, accepting her hand and hauling himself up.
Looking down on her, he then asked directly:
"Are we okay, Beka?"
"Sure, don't worry, tough guy!" she answered, mimicking a tough attitude.
He nodded smiling at her, but then added:
"And you... Are you good?"
"Nah, Rhade is good," his XO answered lightly. "Me, Dylan, I'm the BEST!"