TITLE: Late

AUTHOR: Parisindy

RATING: G

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 or Lor can archive it anyone else has to ask first.

SUMMARY: Just a little late night diversion


If you think you're beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don't;
If you'd like to win, but think, you can't
It's almost a cinch you won't.
If you think you will lose, you're lost;
For out in the world we find,
Success begins with a fellow's will,
It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you're outclassed, you are;
You've got to think high to rise.
You've got to hustle before
You can ever win a prize.
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But sooner or later the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can.

-Anon


Late

It was late. Very late.

Harper crept down the silent halls of the enormous ship. Four years on the Maru, five years on the Andromeda and three on Seefra.

The one thing he never got used to was the silence.

But, she was always there. She was his heartbeat.

Sure there was the hologram, and the ship it's self but none of those things were his Rommie. His heart beat and that was enough. He knew that she lived. Even if it was only his will that made it so.

Walking the halls now he felt like he was walking in a graveyard and he shivered in spite of himself.

He had let her slip from him mind during all the turmoil that was Dylan's return.

When everything had changed came in screaming for attention.

Harper hated change.

He missed Beka and he ached to see her smile and joke. But, she was gone and in her wake was warrior woman cold and angry from battle.

Trance… did he ever really know her? Somehow her new appearance felt like another betrayal. She was forever changing in a time where he craved nothing more then stability. And, he was tired.

Rhade and Dylan seemed to have developed selective memories. Only remembering and believing in their own quests… their own vision. Loss had made them blind.

They blamed him. They accused him. But, it didn't matter. Things had changed. Friendships, trust, and parts had been damaged. But, he could fix it. He really could. He could fix it all.

But, then he paused.

The door slide open and so did his fears.

He hesitated.

Doyle had brought her up from the planet yesterday. She was in Machine shop 17. It was where she had been born. It seemed only right to bring her home, to make her part of the whole again. But now he was afraid. Who was he to think that he could give her life once again? He hadn't been in that room, since…since before she fell. Could he really ever make her better?

He steeled himself, searching for the courage he was trying to portray.

He took a step; everything starts with one small step.

Slowly he walked over to the workbench. His workbench. He ran his fingers over its chipped surface never once looking up towards the metal container. Her container, Her prison, her asylum, her purgatory.

She deserved better. But, how could he ever recreate what was? How, could they ever go back to what they were before?

That is when he saw it. Sitting just a little to the right. Moisture gleamed as sweat dripped down its side. Sparky Cola, he couldn't even remember what it tasted like... it had been so long. He licked his lips as he picked it up, the cold numbed his fingers and his hand shook slightly.

As the can cleared the table he noticed the flexi stuck to the bottom.

With out hesitation he activated it. His heart skipped a beat when he read its contents.

"I believe in you."

- B

Opening the lid of the can, he took a long swig and the liquid burned the back of his throat.

Now he was ready. He turned and opened the metal box that had tormented them both for so long.

He was going to set her free.

"Hey Rom Doll," He smiled. "Sorry I'm late."

The end.