Author's Note-My other Andromeda ficlet, has some info. about my fic Unwilling... basically that it is no more. Don't cry!

This fic is some Tyr/Beka luuurvin at the end of "Belly of the Beast", spoilers up and including that ep. Um...that's about all, so have at it! Oh, and the quote in there by Nietzsche really is true! At slipstreambbs, one of the show's writer guys even said! *cackle*

Oh, and here's a quote-byte for you all from the ep. "The Knight, Death, and the Devil", no spoilers.

(After exiting slipstream, Tyr driving)

Rommie: Well, if I ate food, you'd be wearing it.

Tyr: Lovely imagery. And they say AI's have no poetry in their souls.

Rommie: No poetry. Just hell on wheels with a dirty limerick. Wanna hear one? There once was a man from Nan-


"Hey," Tyr opened his eyes and craned his neck. "stoic one, we're alive. Dance with me." Beka was leaning over him, eyes twinkling and a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. His gaze swung to Trance and Dylan, moving in some outrageous fashion he assumed was meant to be dancing. She followed his eyes and laughed quietly. "Not exactly." He rose to his feet as she stepped around the console that lie between them to stand in front of him. For a moment, they merely looked at each other awkwardly. Then Beka grasped his wrist, (careful not to brush his bone spurs, a part of him noted) set it just above her waist, put her left hand on his shoulder and her right in his.

"You know, Nietzsche once said that we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least one."

"Huh. Looks like he got something right." Beka seemed to forget who she was speaking with for an instant. Then, "Oh, um, sorry."

Her blue eyes sparkled as something lit up behind them. "What do you know, Tyr, sparks are flying." He couldn't help smiling. He moved a half-step nearer to her and gripped her hand a bit tighter. He chuckled softly. There was something in those clear crystal eyes, in that vivacious, so very alive air of hers that brought to mind a certain red-haired woman of his youth. He had known her at the tender age of seventeen, a stunning human female whose name he'd never known. He had ordered dinner at her restaurant and had sat there and simply stared at her for hours. Even today, he discovered himself struck with recollections of her deep, bottomless eyes at seemingly random times.

"Imagining a beautiful, young, um...fertile Nietzschean female in your arms?"

Tyr met her eyes, shocked; he had not meant for his distraction to show. "Beka, I can think of no one in the known worlds with whom I would rather be dancing." To his surprise, he suspected he was telling the truth.

"Smooth talker," she murmured, yet she found herself hoping it was true. Harper's awful music was still blaring, and with her peripheral vision, she could make him out either having an epileptic seizure or dancing. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. It simply wasn't fair for one man to both look and smell this good.

"Tell me, do you believe there is a shipboard romance going on here?" Beka glanced up at him in surprise. Firstly, it wasn't exactly a topic the ship's Weapons Officer usually cared to gossip about, and secondly, she had asked the same question over a year ago, in almost those precise words.

"Well, we were both alive, and Dylan and Trance were..." She affected the confused (and slightly defensive) tone and expression he'd employed all those months ago.

"You and Dylan." He looked intently at her.

A part of her was extremely tempted to reply flippantly, asking him why the hell he cared, but... "Me and Dylan? As in Beka Valentine and Captain High Guard Save the Universe from the Bad Guys?" He gazed steadily at her as the swayed leisurely. Beka shook her head. Her eyes wandered to the captain in question, who was now taking a turn with the ship's avatar. Rommie suddenly seemed to be enjoying herself very much. "No, he's not exactly my type." Her voice softened. "Bobby, Leydon, they're my type."

Tyr lowered his head until she could feel his breath on her cropped hair. "Those...males are unworthy of you, and you know it." His voice was nearly inaudible, but intense and tinged with disdain.

She raised her eyes to his. "Maybe. But there doesn't seem to be anyone else volunteering." She was silent. "But even he did, Dylan and me? In a way, it would be like dating Harper." She wrinkled her nose at the notion.

Tyr chuckled appreciatively, and at this proximity, his voice sounded even deeper than usual. Beka shivered; sometimes the sexual tension or chemistory or whatever it was between them was almost a physical thing. It he wasn't her arrogant, self absorbed, Nietzschean crewmate...

"Tyr, Beka, we finally convinced Harper to turn off," Dylan called as he exited command.

"Using the term liberally," Beka muttered. Just before they let go of each other and backed away, awkwardness back in full force, Tyr gave her one of his slow, mysterious half-smiles and brushed her fingers as he drew back.

Inexplicably, she got the feeling that he had just volunteered.