Title: Les Miserables
Author: Cherubino
mne@si.rr.comFandom: Andromeda
Pairing: Tyr/Rommie
Rating: PG
Summary: Rommie offers an appology
Author's note: Again, this is with thanks to Andromeda Valentine and Lassar for their encouragement and help.
*********************************************************
Disclamer: You all know who they really belong to, so... On with the story!
*********************************************************
LES MISERABLES?
BY CHERUBINO
He felt more then heard that someone entered his quarters. He put down his book, dimmed the lights to a minimum and pretended to be asleep. Faint rustle of thin fabric, probably silk, indicated that his visitor was a female, but the scent was unfamiliar. It puzzled him; he thought he knew them all - not that there were so many of them, three if one would count the ship. Of course, he almost laughed out loud, it's the ship! But what is she doing here? Time to find out.
"Why are you here?"
He obviously startled her, not very apt for an android now, is she? He brought the lights on full glare - and sat there, mouth agape. In the name of the Progenitor, what is going on here? He hadn't realized that he spoke the last sentence rather then though it, not until she answered in a slightly shaken voice:
"You said before, that if we find Dylan alive I owe you an apology and I said that I'll give it to you."
He heard her but didn't answer and just kept looking. She wore a silk sarong tied just below her navel - she actually had a navel, the Little Professor was apparently quite thorough. Her chest was covered by a bra-top that left little to imagination. Tyr remembered the remark he made once about having an avatar unencumbered by cleavage. Her breasts indeed looked . cumbersome, in a nice way though. She made her hair long and brought it up in an elaborate coiffure that looked like the picture of Nephertiti, complete with the snakehead on top. Her eyes were lined with black kohl, making them stand out even more and her lips were glossed with something sheer and pearly. But her attire and make-up were not the center of his attention. Her forearms were adorned with bone blades. Bone blades? How did she get bone blades?
"Ship, you better have a good explanation to this travesty. I want to know what is going on and I want to know now."
"I already said -- I came to apologize."
"Looking like this? It strikes me more like an attempt to mock or insult me!" He looked at Andromeda and saw that her eyes were filled with tears.
"I - I thought that this look will please you. You - we haven't come across any Nietzschean females in a long time and I thought .I am sorry, I better leave."
Realization downed on him like a ton of bricks.
"Wait!" He got up, remembered that he was naked and pulled the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around his hips he grabbed her almost by the door and brought back into his bedroom.
"You came to offer yourself to me?" His dark gaze was on her and she quivered under its intensity. "Answer me!"
"Yes." Very quietly.
"And you though if you make yourself look like a Nietzschean I will be pleased?"
"Yes." Almost inaudibly this time.
"And that would have been your apology?"
Nod. The shaking of her head let the tears spill and they were streaming down her delicate face, washing off the kohl and leaving black traces on her cheeks. Tyr ran a hand over his face.
"What am I to do with you?"
Silence.
"The bathroom is there, although I am sure you know that. Go wash your face and please, make yourself look . like yourself!" She nodded again and went, coming out five minutes later; face scrubbed clean, no sign of the bone blades or the quasi-Egyptian get-up, wrapped in one of his oversized plush towels.
"I hope you don't mind - I borrowed your towel."
"No, I do not mind." Her hair remained long, but she let it down and it actually looked good. He patted the bed next to him, "sit down."
She complied, still not looking at him.
"Why?"
"I don't know. I guess I suffered a temporary laps in judgment."
"Why?" He put one finger under her chin and tipped it up, making her look at him.
"Honestly - I was miserable. Here we are, worrying about him, almost getting ourselves killed and - and not even a thank-you! To either of us!"
"So you thought we could - commiserate? And a certain blond that currently occupies Captain's bed has nothing to do with your actions?"
"No! Yes. I don't know! Tyr, I know you are upset with Dylan. Your reasons are different but nevertheless you are, and at the same time you do care about him and his recent behavior towards you was not the best to say the least."
"But why do you think sleeping with me would change any of that?"
"I never said it would. But it could have made us both feel better."
"Maybe you are right, Andromeda."
"What did you call me?"
"Andromeda. Are you surprised?"
"Frankly - yes. This is the second surprise coming from you in two days."
"And the first?"
"When you referred to me as "My Lady". Usually you call me "Ship", if anything at all."
"And I call Harper "boy" and Reverend Behemiel "creature". It's me, I call it how I see it. I called you "ship", are you not it?"
"I am."
"Then why are you offended by it? Is it because I refuse to recognize your attempts to be something you are not? To meet everyone's expectations? Why are you acting like cyber-maid to everyone, instead of letting everyone know what and who you really are?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you know who the actual Andromeda was?"
"Yes, she was the Ethiopian queen."
"And you are the most powerful warship in the known worlds. You are the queen of the Universe, Andromeda. Stop trying to please everyone, let them know they should be grateful to have you. And stop moping over Dylan, you know it is not going to happen."
Andromeda looked at Tyr and he saw something new in her eyes and that something pleased him. She stood up and dropped the towel to the floor.
"Oh, I know that Dylan is a lost cause. But you are not, or am I wrong, Tyr?"
Tyr looked at her, a picture of feminine perfection, and dropped the sheet that covered his hips. "My lady, you have never been more right." He pulled her in and covered her mouth with his.
****
Dylan sat up in bed, unsure what woke him up. Molly rubbed her eyes sleepily, "What is it, Dylan?"
"Shh, listen!"
The comm. unit in his quarters came alive again clearly transmitting the sounds of passionate lovemaking. The woman sounded like... Rommie? But when her cries were interrupted by a loud growl, Dylan jumped and turned the comm. off. He heard way more then he needed to hear.
****
Rommie stretched alongside the Nietzschean, smiling. He was devious, granted, but the idea to wire their comm. to Dylan's quarters was simply delicious. Not to mention that she had had the time of her life. She made a mental note to thank Harper in the morning. He was very thorough when he created her. Very thorough indeed.
END