Well it's been a while since I updated…real life has been keeping me uber busy. I just want to say a hug thank you to all of you who have stuck with me through this…your words of kindness mean more to me then you know. ((hugs))

Thanks to Eljay for Beta reading….she's a good egg

This one is for the cosmic castaways / H20's

LONG LIVE DROM!



It was the beginning of the end, or so it seemed.

Harper limped through the dingy hallway leading to what he assumed was the factory. Really could there be a worse place or a worse situation? Well, at least there were no Magog…yet. The walls of the narrow hallway may have once been white but were now a grimy battleship grey. He was being herded along with his other 'coworkers' down the narrow pathway by a group of bored looking Ubers with outdated Gauss rifles.

He wondered absently what had happened to Jacob, he didn't seem to be among the throngs of people. Jacob had talked to his father. In someway it was hard to believe. He had a hard time picturing his family here. It was hard to think of them being anywhere other than the house on the hill. A year ago he couldn't have imagined this. So much had changed. How could his father be proud of him for anything? It was then he had to remind himself that his father didn't know what happened to Raven and Fergus. He sighed. He wanted nothing more than to see his family again. He wanted to sink into his mother's arms and be protected. He wanted to be able to forget about everything. Everything but Beka, damn he missed her. Was she even alive or did the Magog get her? What about Rommie? And Trance? He had to let them slip from his mind. He had already lost so much…he couldn't carry the burden of them as well.

His dad was here…. His dad was here. The thought swirled around his brain. His dad could always make thing better. Maybe his mom was here too… maybe they could escape and go home. His father had rescued him before, maybe it could happen again. He would do anything to be back at his house with his mom and dad, his aunt and…. It was a dream world. What if his father hated him now? Could he ever be forgiven for not taking better care of his cousins?

Harper stumbled, his bruised leg finally giving away. He managed to catch himself, but the man behind him shoved him forward. This sucked. It even smelled bad in here. His chest burned and he coughed weakly. It had taken him a full ten minutes to get to his feet when the morning bell went off. When he finally made it to his feet his supervisors were not so happy about him causing a delay. Luckily they only abused him verbally. If they had hit him he probably wouldn't have been able to get up again. As it was, every couple of feet the walls seemed to sway and move. He just felt so damn tired. But Dad was here… he had to keep going.

There was another shove from the guy behind him, this time for no reason. He turned and glared but there was little else he could do. He wasn't in any shape for picking fights. Especially when everyone was so much bigger. Seamus grunted, turned back around and rubbed at his sore ear and irritated, itchy neck.

He tried to take an inventory of his hurts in a vain attempt to distract himself from the dancing walls and pushy inmates but he was quickly losing track. His head was the worst and ached something awful; the pain seemed to blossom from his sore ear outwards. It was probably why he couldn't think straight either. His neck still had that rash. His arms hurt, the cloth Jacob had wrapped around his right arm to stop the bleeding was itchy and felt way to tight. But at least he could move that one. His other arm hung limply at his side and he hissed in pain whenever it was jostled. Both his shoulders ached. He had cracked ribs and the calves of his legs were dark blue from bruising.

To top it all off he still felt sick to his stomach. Even the though of food or drink made him queasy. Which probably wasn't good. He was so thirsty. The dizziness really wasn't helping. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, allowing the crowd to carry him forward. It was going to be a long, long day. He was making bets with himself that he wouldn't last an hour if they actually tried to make him work. Walking in a straight line was hard enough

He didn't have time to contemplate it further as they were shuffled in to a large room with large machines and thick black grease on the walls.

The workday had begun.


The Andromeda's Avatar snapped her eyes closed. "I'm in Captain," shouted Rommie from her consol. Her eyes quivered under their lids as if she entered some form of wild REM sleep. "Accessing the central core database. Suppressing the AI. Starting sequencing."

The Persied sneered at their efforts. "I am scanning your weapons Captain, there is no way for you to establish a lock without my knowledge of it. I have superior weapons to your ancient designs. Your naïve attempts are laughable."

"I may be a man out of time, but Rekeeb, you're truly a man out of time unless you strongly reconsider your actions against my ship and my crew."

"Please, Captain! If you surrender now I may be merciful and keep your ship in one piece. Sell her in auction for some rich man's amusement or to a museum, so they can add her to their collection. But, if you act rashly now I will show you the extent of my fury."

Rommie spoke then her own anger evident. "I am no one's play thing." She slammed her hand down on the controls in front of her.

Suddenly, Rekeeb's ship started to shake. "What are you doing!" the Perseid demanded, but his voice was nasal with surprise and fear.

Dylan turned towards the forward screen and smiled. "You maybe right, I may be archaic and out of date. You may be smarter than me, and maybe your ship has more fire power than mine, but I have the Andromeda, and I'm betting my AI can beat up your AI." Dylan resisted the urge to stick out his tongue.

Suddenly, the console in front of Rekeeb exploded. Sparks flew and Dylan squinted at the unexpected glare. The communication lines went dead.

Dylan turned to Rommie. "I sent a surge through their central systems," she told him. "All their primary functions are off-line with the exception of life support."

Dylan couldn't help but smile. "You're my hero."

Rommie had to suppress a smirk herself. She straightened her uniform in a dignified manner. "Well of course I am."

Dylan laughed lightly. "Lets go pick them up before they can cause anymore trouble."


Harper stood staring at the large processing machine in front of him. Every so often some tired looking old guy with a wheelbarrow would come and dump rock and ore into a bin beside him. The bin was huge and nearly over flowing with its contents. The supervisor had told Harper that he was to sort the rocks into two piles. Rocks that were mostly grey went in to the chute of the machine on the left. Mostly black rocks went in to the machine on the right.

The supervisor didn't stick around after his quick instructions. Seamus felt more than slightly stunned. For a few moments he did nothing more then look blankly at the pile of rocks and then towards the machine. The machine swayed in front of him as his eyesight blurred. He sighed, he had to keep going for now. He needed to stick this out until he got to see his Dad.

He stepped up to the bin and pulled one of the smaller rocks towards himself using his good arm. He tired to pick it up but it was surprisingly heavy and he couldn't really grip it right with just one arm. His other hand wasn't functioning at all so everything was just really awkward. He pulled it against his chest and using his body for leverage he was able to shift the rock and drop it in one of the slots of the machine.

The machine made an odd gurgling sound, and then dust rose in to the air. Harper coughed as a soot-like substance belched from the machine. The dust felt oily on his skin and it certainly explained why everything here seemed so dirty. He steadied himself against the bin as his coughing got worse. His head started to pound. It was hard to tell up from down. "One," he whispered in confirmation as he fell to his knees.

Slowly he was able to catch his breath again. It was sheer willpower the helped him regain his footing. He stepped up to the bin and started to repeat the process. It was going to be a long day.

Beka entered the crew cabin portion of the Maru. She stopped in the entrance for a moment waiting for Tyr to notice her.

The Nietzchean lay back on one of the bunks reading a book that he held with one hand. His other arm looped around to the back of his head to be used as a pillow. Beka couldn't help but reflect on recent events. Tyr was a very smart person; he read books voraciously. The thing was, he thought he could read people as easily as he read books. But his recent judgements certainly put a few holes in that theory. Leaving Harper behind may have been what Tyr though was the best for him, but it certainly wouldn't have been Seamus' choice. It certainly wouldn't have been hers either.

So now it brought up the question; was he correct about her needing to care for the boy? Did Harper need her? Part of her didn't want to admit that she felt a certain need to take care of Harper. It scared her. She would never be his mother. He had one and he was too old to accept another. But they could be friends; she could offer him guidance like Rev Bem did for her. Friends take care of each other. She would take care of him.

Tyr looked up at her. "Are you going to stand there all day or is there something you wish to discuss?"

Beka shrugged, breaking away from her thoughts. "Not really; I'm just going a little stir-crazy waiting. I thought we could use some supplies. There's a spaceport nearby. I was just wondering if you would like anything. Or maybe you'd like to tag along?"

Tyr set his book down and sat up. "I don't think it would be wise to make my presence know quite yet to the Drago Kazov. It's probably wise that you keep your comm unit on an open frequency. We may be here to rescue the boy but your allegiance to Dylan Hunt and the Commonwealth is well known."

Beka sneered, "Our allegiance Tyr, not just mine."

"Yes,… that."

Beka rubbed her hand across her face. She really did need a break from this. "Fine, You're right it's probably good that you stay here. But, screw the open comm. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself." She put her hand on the gauss gun that hung on her hip. She paused for a second more. When he said nothing she waved to him left the room. "I'll call you if I need you," she shouted over her shoulder as she walked away.

Beka walked through the ship, eager to be on her way. Tyr could drive her nuts like no one else! He was the king of mixed signals. She punched in her code to open the airlock angrily.

The air lock opened slowly with a whine and a hiss. She would need Harper to take a look if he came back. Not If! She chastised herself. When. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She would not let herself be rattled by that man any further.

As the air lock finally opened completely she took a grateful deep breath of fresh air.

That new feeling of calm had lasted less than ten seconds when an explosion nearly the size of a Nova Bomb knocked her off her feet.

"TYR!" She screamed in surprise and shock as an enormous fireball rose in to the sky.

The Nietzchean was at her side in seconds. Both did a quick visual check of each other for injuries. Beka met Tyr's eyes and they both paused for a second.

"That was no ordinary explosion." Tyr said nearly breathless.

Beka staggered to her feet. "You think….?"

"The boy; he can be very resourceful when necessary."

Beka didn't reply as they both set off at a dead run across the field towards the spaceport and the source of the explosion. In the aftermath of the explosion the only sounds that could be heard were their laboured breaths and the soft thuds of their footstep on the dry earth.

Beka hoped fervently that Harper was okay. She glanced back only once towards the house.

The sun was setting, and as the sun fell in the sky once again the Harper household stood empty and alone to face the winds of change.


He couldn't move. He didn't think he could breath. Silence, everything was silent.

Movement, he tried to follow it but couldn't. Dark everything was too dark.

A hand on his ankle made him jump. It pulled.

He panicked and tried to claw at anything for purchase. But he couldn't move his arms properly. He screamed but the silence prevailed.

He blinked as something was moved…. He chest expanded fully and he swung his one arm fitfully.

The there was light lots of light. Faces, with mouths moving saying nothing. The people backed away and he looked around frantically as his memory came rushing back.

He was moving rocks… the machine three stalls over clogged. He went to go fix it. He could help. He was good with machines. But one of the guards appeared out of nowhere. "Kludge you are not on vacation! Back to work!" He was given a rough shove that his injured arms weren't able to brace.

Seamus fell to his knees, hard. He hissed sharply and did his best to explain the situation. But he was exhausted and he had about enough. "Listen, Uber…. Sir. That machine… it's going to …"

The Nietzchean raised his arm to backhand him.

"Wait, no!" Harper threw his good arm up to protect himself. "Really, listen to me it's important! The hydraulics are gone! The ore gets pulverized in those huge rotating mill drums, which I guess contain steel balls that grind these freaking rocks, right? The drums are rotated by those bars on the outside, which contain the hydraulics. But I think the dust has clogged one of the rotators, if it isn't fixed it's going to buckle. Whatever this black dust crap is I'm pretty sure it's flammable." And things will start to spark…"

By then it was already to late, death by techno-babble.

Someone yelled a warning; it was the last sound he heard.

Now as he looked up to the faces, the voices that he could not hear, he remembered what happened.

Someone pulled him to his feet. He wobbled uncertainly but the crowd had already moved on to search for others.

That was when for the first time he saw the sheer and utter devastation.

It was as if a mini nova bomb had detonated in the spaceport and yet somehow that didn't even give this mess justification.

Blocks and blocks of nothing but destruction.

Harper lifted his good arm and rubbed the heel of his palm against his ear. The explosion must have been loud and he had been too close. It was why he couldn't hear.

People drifted and milled around, unsure of what happened or what to do. Shock was evident on all faces. Some people dug through rubble to look for survivors. But there was more rubble than people, more dead than alive. Injuries were frightful, blindness from the shards of the blast adding to the shock and bewilderment.

A few of the Nietzchean guards tried to gain control but soon gave up and retreated to what was left of their stronghold. They would need to regroup, confirm the safety of their own children and plan before any attempt to regain control was to be made. The kludges at this point simply did not matter. Family came first; it was a universal truth for all races in a situation like this.

Seamus's thought flitted quickly to the safety of his own family. His father… where was his father? He had to find him! He staggered around the rubble. He grabbed the arm of a passer-by. "My dad, have you seen my dad?" But he couldn't hear his own voice. He wasn't sure if he was screaming or whispering. The man soon shrugged him off and kept going on a quest of his own.

No one would help him. No one was coming to save him. He'd have to do this on his own. He had to find his Father.

Like the machine in the factory it started with one rock. He lifted the rock with his one good arm and shifted it to the side. "One," he whispered.

Next, he moved a piece of pipe. "Two,"


The sun was starting to set so he moved a bit faster. He was battling time and it might be a losing battle

Beka and Tyr wandered through the spaceport. They were starting to feel as numb as the people who had been close to the blast. This couldn't be real could it?

Beka stepped quickly over …something, an arm maybe? She wouldn't allow her mind to process that bit of information.

Men were calling for their wives. Children for their fathers or mothers. But no one came.

Beka met Tyr's eyes but they said nothing. What could be said? All their years in space, all the battles that had taken place. How many times had both of them lived on the edge of a battle? How often had they gotten the thrill of victory at the cost of someone else's life? It often too easy to forget that sometimes there were people on the receiving end.

Beka finally cornered someone for information, an older woman sifting through some debris. This hadn't been a space battle or a Nietzchean rival seeking revenge like they had originally thought. "The factory blew up," moaned the aged victim. "Those evil Nietzcheans blew it up and it was still full of people. Why, WHY?" She started to moan.

The lady seemed in too much of a dither to notice Tyr's bone blades. Beka let her go and she scrambled away.

Tyr shook his head. "None of this seems right. The Dragos wouldn't destroy their work force. Unless they were planning to leave and I see no signs of that."

"So, what do you deduce? Sabotage?"

Tyr shrugged, "An act of revenge or simply an act of fate."

Beka was surprised. It wasn't an option she had even considered. "An accident?"

"Perhaps, but for now motive isn't our first concern. If the little professor is here, we best find him."


Harper found a flashlight. The lens was cracked but it still worked and when he shook it the light blinked on. He clenched the handle between his teeth and swiped at his brow with his good hand. He was covered in dark black soot. He doubted his own mother would have recognized him then. A sharp splinter bit in to his hand as he pulled yet another board away from the pile on which he stood. He ignored the pain. The pain he felt deep down in his soul had long overridden the pain of his body. He thought being tortured was hell; he had thought then, what more could he possible endure? He had been so damn naive. But unlike before when he gave up… and wanted to end it all, this time he wanted to live. This time he new he couldn't give up hope; he couldn't stop and feel sorry for himself. Other people needed him and no matter what, he had to keep going.

A small group of people started to gather around. No one joined though. His hearing was coming back, although it was muffled. He could hear the watchers crying and wailing with despair. They stood weeping for what they lost. They cried for their pain, for their dead, for their inability to see beyond the pile of rubble at their feet.

Harper, sighed heavily and continued what he was doing, ignoring them. But, moments later he started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up blearily at an older boy who offered him water. "Thanks," he croaked. He hadn't realized how thirsty he had been and he gulped the murky water quickly.

The boy, or man looked to be about 19 years old. He was just as dirty as Harper was and his eyes looked weary. "What's your name? What are you doing? Don't you know people are dead?" the older boy queried.

It was a lot of questions and Harper was so very tired. "My name is Seamus Harper. Yes, I know lots of people are dead. But I'm not dead. My father's here… and dead or alive he's worth looking for. I will not abandon him and I will not leave him behind. I will not give up hope. Hope is all I have left."

The two boys stared at each other in the twilight. Neither spoke further for a moment. "My name is Brendan." The boy nodded in confirmation. He seemed to be mulling over what Seamus had said.

Harper looked back at him blankly, for lack of anything better to say he replied, "I had a cousin named Brendan once."

Brendan stood a little straighter then and he looked directly at Harper. "Tonight, I am your cousin. Tonight we should all be cousins." Then the scruffy older boy stood unexpectantly and turned to face the crowd of useless on-lookers. His voice boomed, echoing across the devastation. "What are you doing?" He yelled and more than one person yelped in surprise. "I said what are you doing? Here we stand in our own filth and misery. We are acting exactly the way the Ubers said we would without them around." Brendan pulled Harper to his feet and through his arm around Seamus's shoulders. "This is Seamus Harper, remember that name! For he is the one who reminded me that we are more than rats living in this dump. We are more than this, we are better than this! Let his name be synonymous with change…with opportunity. For this is our moment, people! This is our moment to rise above what the Nietzcheans think of us. This is our moment to rise above what we think of us!" Brendan paused to sweep his arms in a circle. "This thing that happened, this is horror… this is unspeakable horror. But, we can't let it stop us. We can't think of only our hurts, our pains. It's time we quit being blind. Help each other, struggle together, hurt together, and live together. Earth belongs to us and she's worth fighting for!"

The crowd cheered and surged forward.

A hundred hands started to dig and search in what was left of the factory. People shook Brendan's hand and patted Harper on the back.

Harper stood stunned. What had just happened? Something had changed he could feel it. It was like the wind had switched directions.

Brendan smiled at him. "Thanks cus-o."

He gave the older boy a lopsided smirk of his own.

Off to the right a small girl was pulled from the rubble. She cried and screamed but she was alive.

It was then he was reminded of something Tyr had told him once. It seemed like eons ago now. 'Where there's life there's hope.' Harper chuckled to himself. This was probably a bad time to admit that a Nietzchean was right. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Tyr." He whispered, "Where there's life there's hope. Faint, infinitesimal, minuscule, microscopic, virtually undetectable hope, but hope nonetheless."

He turned to continue the growing search for survivors, but paused when he thought he heard some one calling his name. He shook his head; he was exhausted and now he was hearing things. His hearing still wasn't working right…

He picked up a piece of brick but stopped and dropped it when he heard it again.

"Seamus Harper, if you're not dead I'm going to kill you myself!"

"BEKA!" He screamed and he leaped forward in to her arms.

Beka stumbled backwards but Tyr braced them both and laughed heartily.

Harper couldn't stop the flood of emotions; he wasn't even sure what he felt. Relief, love, elation, anger, sheer and utter joy. He grabbed the sleeves of her shirt and sobbed into her shoulder unable to catch his breath. His knees gave out, pulling them both to the ground. It was only when his hair started to grow wet that he realized she was crying too.

"Are you real?" he finally managed to gasp.

"Shhh," she whispered. "We're here, we're real and we're not leaving you again; shhhh." She rocked him softly, her arms circling around his back.

Tyr laid a heavy hand on Harper's shoulder and it was then the boy laughed through his tears. He had the strangest family in the whole world.


Four days later, Seamus sat on the hill leading down towards the ocean. He picked at the dry grass and rolled it in between his fingers absently. He was still tired. In many ways he thought he might never feel normal again.

Beka had pulled him bodily away from the blast site when he collapsed in her arms. Tyr had carried him back to the Maru. They repaired his wounds for the most part. His hearing still was muffled at times and his arms ached. But he was whole and fed, there was something to be said for that.

After his initial speech Brendan had kept going, leading the teams in the search for survivors. Twenty-three people were pulled from the devastation. But none of them were his father. Harper hadn't given up hope, not really; he had been back to the site and had spent most of the last few days there. He was alive and maybe his father was too, maybe even his Mother and his Aunt. Things still weren't perfect despite Brendan's motivation. Some of the work gangs had grown smaller as the days passed-people had either found their loved ones, given up hope of finding them, or had taken their chance to escape from the Nietzscheans once and for all. Some of the Uber's try to reassert their control on the Ghetto but both sides were finding it difficult. He wondered which he would choose, to stay or run, if Beka and Tyr weren't there to give him another choice.

The two spacer's never left his side for a moment. It was like Beka was afraid to blink because if she did he would disappear. He had to admit he enjoyed the smothering and spoiling. He'd been without either for a very long time.

He had long talks with them both and he had rested a little as well; Beka had seen to that. There was something to be said about a running shower and warm blankets.

He glanced now up to the cross that Tyr had helped him to build. It had a wayist triangle fitted over its arms. It was a lousy gravestone and Harper wasn't even sure if he believed in the Divine or not but it seemed to help. Once his thoughts cleared he began to realize that he had no proof that his father had even been in the explosion. He might have been shipped off to another slavers' camp or something. Jacob, whom he never saw again; was his information be reliable? There were a lot of questions and not a whole lot of evidence. If there was one thing he learned from Hohne, it was that all theories needed to be proven before they became facts. So maybe his family wasn't dead, maybe they were… he simply didn't have proof. And, it was time to move on to the next hypothesis.

He jumped slightly when Beka plopped down beside him on the ground. "Sorry," he blushed. "I didn't hear you coming."

Beka frowned, "I want Trance to look at your ears."

"My rear's?" He smirked

Beka laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You heard me that time you goof."

They sat in a comfortable silence watching the waves roll in.

"I'm glad I came back," he finally whispered.

Beka shifted beside him. "Harper, this place…"

"It's okay Boss, I know. This isn't my home anymore. I just lived here once."

"Are you sad?"

It seemed like a stupid question at first after all that had happened but it really wasn't. "I was for a very long time, then I just kind of got numb and that wasn't any good either. I've been three parts dead for a very long time."

Beka looped her arm with his. "Would you be willing to leave, to try living again?"

"I-I don't know, I'm afraid. I'll miss them a lot but I think I'm ready to say good-bye. I just wish I knew whether they were alive or dead but I can't stop living just because they may have. I'll never stop looking or hoping but my time here is done. I'm just really tired of hurting, of wondering…I'm tired of being alone."

Beka rested her head on his shoulder. "I can't promise you that bad stuff won't happen anymore. In fact I can almost guarantee you it will. But in between the bad stuff there can be a lot of good. Even if it's only one part good I think that can make up for the bad."

Harper watched another wave roll in. "And that's life." He whispered.

"That's life-good or bad, it's a great adventure"

Harper leaned his head against hers. "Beka, I think I'm ready now. Can you take me home?"


It had been five days since he had asked her to take him home. Beka had sent a message buoy to the Andromeda who then relayed their coordinates back to them. Beka said they were ecstatic that they were all coming home. Both sides related their news back and forth. Dylan was proud to tell them that the 'Mad Persied' had been captured and was being sent to a Commonwealth outpost to stand trial. Dylan had even said that he would be willing to discuss Harper's continuing role in relation to Andromeda. Whatever that meant. But, it made Beka smile so maybe it meant something good and he could use some good news for a change.

Now, Harper sat lounging on the bench in the galley of the Eureka Maru trying to take it all in. A cold Sparky sat in front of him. Condensation dripped down the side of the can and pooled on the table. Harper touched a drop with the edge of his fingertip and stared at in mindlessly as it glistened dully in the artificial light.

Beka wandered in to the room but she paused to stare at him; she was still worried about him and was forever hovering nearby.

Harper looked up at her. Watching her watch him. She was wearing a beat up muscle shirt and some sweats. Her hair was wet and there was a towel wrapped around her neck. She was taking a break as Tyr piloted them towards their rendezvous with the Andromeda.

Beka continued to watch him.

"What?" he finally asked in exasperation.

"I was just wondering about what you think about sometimes."

Harper smirked slyly. "Nothing."

"Uh huh, sure," Beka smiled as she walked over to the counter to pour herself some coffee.

"Okay, fine. I was thinking about how you called this an adventure earlier. But I just don't see it."

Beka sat on the bench across from him and took a sip of her drink. Steam rose up and her cheeks turned pink from the heat. "What don't you see? "

"Well, when my mom told me adventure stories, they always had brave heroes, pirates, and dragons."

"Well, in a way it did. It's all depends on your perspective."

Harper looked at Beka quizzically. "My perspective?"

"Yeah," Beka began. "Well, let's start with Heroes… our story is chock-full of them. There's Dylan, trying to reunite the Commonwealth and all that. That one's obvious. Then there's Trance facing down Bloodmist by herself. Rev for facing his demons. That takes a lot of guts. There's you, well for doing like a million things…"

Harper was surprised. "Me? I'm not a hero. I was scared out of my wits most of the time and the other half I was just trying to survive."

Beka put her coffee down on the table. "You think heroes never get scared? I disagree. I think they are probably more scared than most. The thing that makes someone heroic is that the fear doesn't stop them from doing what they must. Being heroic doesn't make you fearless."

Harper shrugged, "I guess. It's just when you hear all the big stories the Heroes don't seem afraid."

"Like I said, it all depends on your perspective. Some people are just really good at hiding how they feel. While others are open books." Beka poked Harper in the ribs.

He flinched back with a smile.

"Ticklish?"

"No," he lied.

Beka laughed lightly. "Like I said, Kiddo. Some people are open books."

"Okay," Harper consented changing the subject. So there were heroes. What about pirates and Dragons?"

Beka rubbed her chin feigning deep thought. "Well, I'm a cargo hauler… sometimes people think I'm a pirate.

Harper shook his head. "Sorry, that isn't going to cut it."

"What about Dionysus?"

Harper got an involuntary shiver down his back at the mention of that name. "He was a Nietzschean not a pirate."

Beka smiled gaining momentum. "Well, let's see. Pirates kidnap people. Initially he kidnapped you. You and Tyr went to find him to get the chip with the location of the progenitor's bones. One could say that was a treasure map."

Seamus laughed out loud.

Beka joined in.

"What about the Dragons, your forgot about the dragons." He laughed wiping a tear from his eye.

Beka snorted, "I've seen what you're like without coffee or a Sparky cola first thing in the morning."

"Hey!" Harper protested with a grin. "I resemble that remark!"

Beka grinned.

Harper looked down at his Sparky again, the can was all but empty. He let the smile slip from his face. "You know, Beka. You forgot to name one of the Heroes."

"Who?"

"There was this spacer Captain. She was one hot chick, but she was a hero through and through. She helped, hell no, she saved people. She was always there when they needed her. Even if sometimes they weren't sure." He looked up at her with the most serious look he could manage. "Beka, you're the most heroic person I know."

They stared at each other for a moment in silence.

Beka's face wrinkled as if in pain.

Harper's eyes started to water.

Unable to control themselves they both burst out laughing.

Beka threw a napkin at Harper's head weakly. "Way to kill the mood you sap!"

Seamus held his stomach; it hurt from laughing. "Oh, god no more," he gasped. "Quit looking at me like that."

Beka wiped tears from her eyes. She tried to catch he breath but the giggles continued to plague her. "It's just you … it's just you said it so serious!"

Harper sputtered unable to control himself. "I was—serious!"

"I know!" Beka burst again.

Rommie took that moment to appear on a nearby screen. "Welcome Home…" She started happily but paused to watch the two incapacitated friends curiously. "Excuse me?" She tried to get their attention but failed. "Excuse me? Are you two okay? Have you been drinking? There are strict rules about officers being intoxicated on duty."

Still no reply.

Rommie gazed at the two friends who were still choking with laughter. The usually stoic avatar started to giggle. "Why are you laughing- Why am I laughing?" Rommie shook herself back in to composure. Something Beka and Harper seem incapable of doing.

The avatar just shrugged and decided to use remote control to direct the Eureka Maru in to the Andromeda's hanger deck.

Rommie disappeared with a smirk on her face. She wondered how long it would take before they realized they were home.

The End


Or is it….

Fall Seven Times

TITLE: Fall Seven Times

AUTHOR: Parisindy

RATING: PG 13 - R

DISCLAIMER: No money was received or exchanged.
We do not own Andromeda or any of its Characters.
This is purely for fun.

ARCHIVE: only MW can archive it anyone else has to ask first.

SUMMARY: Sequel to Three Parts Dead

NOTES: Thanks too Eljay for Being my Beta reader, and Jips for the plot bunny.


"Fall seven times, stand up eight."

Japanese Proverb

To be a part of something greater then yourself, to think beyond whom you are and where you have been. To be completely alive in the moment and think 'yes, this is where I'm meant to be.' This must be akin to heaven.

Reverend Bohemial Far-Traveler. Circa AFC 309