Title: toccata In D-Minor

Author: Cherubino

Fandom: Andromeda

Pairing: Dylan/Tyr

Rating PG/preslash

Summary: Removing the Magog larva

Author's note: My deepest gratitude to Andromeda Valentine and Lassar for their encouragement and help.

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Disclamer: You all know who they really belong to, so... On with the story!

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TOCCATA IN D-MINOR
(The Day We Were Supposed To Die)

BY CHERUBINO
*******************************

Medical was quiet except for the faint beeping of the monitors by Tyr's bed and Harper's stasis unit. Dylan convinced Trance to take a break; Rommie could monitor her patients and alert her if anything was wrong. She didn't go to her quarters though, but compromised by laying down on one of the spare beds in the next room. He was sitting next to Anasazi, the brace was still on is leg, although it didn't hurt that bad any more, painkillers and nanobots doing their job. This nightmare was finally over. More or less. He laughed inwardly; Trance was definitely rubbing off on him.

He honestly couldn't tell what was harder, fighting off the Magog or seeing the aftereffects of the invasion. Especially on Harper and Tyr. Seamus was still in stasis, Rev working on some sort of medication to keep the larvae dormant. Tyr was unconscious and no one knew whether or not he would wake up. Dylan closed his eyes; the events of the past hours running in his mind like a horror movie without a conclusion.

* * *

They limped off the Maru, Rommie guiding Harper and Tyr almost carrying him. The Nietzschean was bleeding heavily and the larvae inside him were making hideous sucking noises and still he dragged Dylan to the AG-lift and only then allowed himself to collapse. Harper started freaking out and Trance quickly sedated him.

Tyr looked at her and said, pointing to his stomach, "Get. Rid. Of. That." And almost inaudibly, closing his eyes, "Please." He slumped down, consumed by pain, the livid agony growing inside him. Rommie lifted him up on the stretcher and the drones rolled them off.

In Medical Rommie put Harper in the stasis unit and set the controls. Dylan was next. While she took care of him, Trance was getting Tyr ready for the surgery. She was almost crying. She was not a real doctor! Granted, she knew a lot but . As if reading her thoughts, Tyr looked at her:

"Now is not the time for self-doubt, child. Whether or not you remove these parasites, you will succeed."

"What -- what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." She did. So she got on with her work. All seemed to go well until she started to extract the larvae. Tyr screamed and almost bucked off the table. He was wide-awake and in so much pain he was going mad. The parasites absorbed the anesthetic and he suddenly felt everything that was done to him. Dylan made his way over there and held him down with all his might while Trance put the restraints on him. She gave him another injection and the pain seemed to subside a little. But that was it, no amount of drugs seemed to work, it was neutralized immediately by the larvae.

"Get on with it, girl."

"But."

"Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?"

"No!" Trance was on the verge of tears.

"Then save your crying for later and GET ON WITH IT!"

Dylan stood on the other side of the table and took Tyr's hand in his. He didn't know what prompted this gesture, and he didn't know why Tyr accepted it, but he did. And so Dylan remained there for four agonizing hours, forcing himself not to pass out from the site in front of him, getting his hand crushed by the Nietzschean. Closer to the end of the procedure Anasazi lost consciousness. Dylan was grateful that Tyr will have some respite from his suffering, but Trance's quiet "No!" told him that it was not good.

"What is it, Trance?"

"One of the parasites was clamped on to his spinal cord. I am afraid when I removed it; it probably released some sort of toxin that went straight to his cerebral cortex. He is not simply unconscious, he is comatose."

"What can you do?"

"Nothing at the moment. I'll run some tests and see if I can come up with something. There is a good chance that his enhanced healing capabilities and resistance to toxins will take care of that. We just have to wait and see." She finished closing the incisions and covered the area with sterile bandages. "Thank you, Dylan."

He wanted to move but Tyr still held his hand in a strong grip and somehow Dylan felt he shouldn't break the connection. So Trance pulled up a chair for him and he sat down, finally. His leg throbbed and he knew that Tyr crushed a couple of bones in his hand but the painkillers kicked in and right now he didn't care. He was too tired to care. Trance brought Tyr's bed down so he was leveled with Dylan and went to look at the blood work to find out what exactly happened.

"Rommie, dim the lights, please." The room darkened. Dylan closed his eyes and leaned back. He felt that he was trapped inside the nightmare and couldn't wake up. Everything turned upside down. He would never admit it out loud, but he has grown not only to rely on his motley crew but to care deeply about them. He was worried about Rev Bem and his eternal guilt for being born. He was concerned about Beka and the weight of her past. Harper - he didn't even want to go there now. But what threw him off balance was realization of how he felt about Tyr. For almost a year he tried to convince himself that he needed Tyr - that they needed Tyr for his expertise in the art of war. And with every transgression committed by the Nietzschean Hunt came up with more elaborate excuses as for why he shouldn't dump his wayward Weapons and Security Officer at the next spaceport.

Trance came back, quiet as a cat, adjusted the monitors and added something to the IVs snaking around Tyr's arm and throat. The liquid turned from blue to pale green. To Dylan's questioning look she answered in soft whisper:

"The anti-toxin. It should start working in a few minutes. Don't worry, Dylan, he'll be fine, I am sure now. It will take time but he will be ok." She patted Dylan's shoulder and left.

Dylan was tired but sleep wouldn't come to him. He thought about the events of the past year. Everything had changed. His life as he knew it was no more, his family and friends and his fiancée were gone and no matter how hard he tried to adjust he still felt like a fish out of water. His new crew was helping but still, it was hard. In his life as an operative in Argosy Special Ops he learned how to be alone, but he always knew he had family and friends to return to. Now he had no one. His train of thought was interrupted when Tyr moaned and moved. 'Good, he is coming to,' Dylan thought. And sure, Anasazi tried to sit up and Dylan barely managed to catch him before he fell.

"Easy, where do you think you are going?" He gently pushed the Nietzschean back down and Tyr realized that he was too weak to fight or argue, so he complied. Soon his breathing became regular and Dylan assumed that he fell asleep. Hunt felt strange; he wasn't used to see his resident superman so . fragile for the lack of a better word. He looked at Tyr, thinking of the strange circumstances that brought and kept them together. He was never much into writing journals or keeping diaries, but he was a thinker. He found good listeners in Rommie and Rev, but these thoughts were too - not private, but too personal to discuss with anyone. Thinking that the subject of his musings is asleep Dylan spoke out loud.

"You know, Tyr, since the day I opened my mouth to offer you to join us I was wondering why did I do that. I mean, I understand why I wanted the others - I needed a pilot, an engineer, a medic and a scientist. But why you? To use your own statement, what was in it for me?

"I really had no idea at a time. It was in all honesty an impulse decision, something I usually don't do. Funny how often you prompt me to do things I usually don't do.

"Now I think I know why. I realize that I saw too much of me in you. And the more I interacted with you, the more I learned about you the more I felt the likeness between us and the more I appreciated having you around.

"On a number of occasions you have done things that in old days would have gotten you court-martialed. Hell, I would have been court-martialed for being there while you did what you did. And yet I let you get away with your deeds. I let you get away with taking Beka's ship and going AWOL for three weeks when we had to go look for you and bail you out at the end. Plus I still don't know what is in the crate you brought in and what kind of impact it could have for me?

"Everyone was telling me that you were going to sell me out to Orca Pride. It looked like you were going to do just that. But you didn't. And you left your mate behind. Now I know how that feels. I had lost Sara, found her and had to leave her behind again. I knew you wouldn't accept my sympathy but I was willing to give it.

"And then came the Battle at the Witchhead Nebula. I could have said that it was your fault. After all, it was your idea to teach Trance slipstream piloting. I haven't. I know what it cost me to do what I had to do. But I can't even begin to imagine what it cost you not to stop me. I am not stupid or naïve, Tyr, I knew you could but you didn't.

"That day your pain became my pain. When I saw you on the Obs Deck all I wanted to do was to stop your agony. I wanted more then anything to comfort you, to give you solace, to take that burden off your shoulders. I wanted to put my arms around you and absorb your sorrow. I knew you would never have accepted such gesture from me. So I just stood there and watched you cry for your people.

"You have fought with me and for me since. And now I want the status quo, Tyr. I don't want you to die. I have lost so much and so many, I don't want to loose something - or someone-- I haven't even gotten yet. Even though I am not sure that what I want is at all obtainable. I don't want you to die."

Dylan stopped talking and rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. He took Tyr's hand again and rubbed his thumb over the back of it lightly without even noticing.

Tyr tried his best to keep his breathing even and eyes closed so not to break Dylan's illusion that he was sleeping. After awhile he did drift off and his Captain shortly followed suit.

Trance lifted herself on one elbow and looked at two sleeping men. She smiled; things were shaping up nicely after all.

No Good Deed.

*************

Dylan walked in to his quarters, threw the bag in the general direction of a bedroom and folded himself into a chair, face buried in his hands. He felt like a marionette with the strings cut off, limp and lifeless. He knew he should be happy, they had found Ortiz and were able, or rather he was able to convince her to crawl out of her hiding hole and help his cause. Not that she had much of a hole left to hide in anyway, but still. And yet it felt like a hollow victory. Cory died by a hand of a demented pregnant woman, Trance lost her tail and now he was not even sure Ortiz -- or Sephia, whatever she wanted to call herself, was the right person for the job. And to top it all off his arm twitched and the wound throbbed and bothered the hell out of him. He knew he had to get up and take a shower, maybe sleep a little, but couldn't make himself move.

"You need to bathe, your smell is beginning to be offensive."

Dylan's looked up at the sound of Tyr's voice and was surprised to see his resident Nietzschean standing in front of him. Cleanly shaven and obviously just out of the shower he was a picture of order and composure. Suddenly Dylan had a mental image of Tyr in the shower, water running in swirling rivulets over the warm gold of his skin, white soap lather in stark contrast with his darkness, damp dreads clinging to the muscular back and chest. He shook his head vehemently, where did that come from?

"What? Tyr, what are you doing here and how did you get in?"

"To answer your questions in order, I said that you need to bathe, I am here to take care of your wound and I walked in because you left the door open."

Now Dylan saw that Anasazi held a medical kit in his hand.

"Did Trance send you?"

"No, Trance is busy mourning her tail and Captain Valentine is attempting to console her." The corner of Tyr's mouth twitched, he still found it amusing.

"And you suddenly felt that one good deed for the day is not enough and decided to play doctor with me? Thank you kindly, Tyr, but I am just fine."

"I am sure you are well aware, Captain, sir, that the words "good Samaritan" are not in my vocabulary. Your wound has gotten infected, whatever that poor excuse for a medic did to it was not enough or even made it worse."

"And how do you know that?"

"You mean beside the fact that you constantly touching or rubbing it? I can smell it."

"So, if you are not doing it out of the goodness of your heart -- that is if you actually have one -- what could possibly possess you to come here?" Dylan's sarcasm was evident in the tone of his voice, together with the hint of amusement.

"My survival today depends largely on you, Captain Hunt, so it is in my interest to ensure your well-being. It would do me no good if you become incapacitated. Now, if you are done with your interrogation and exercises in sarcasm I suggest that you bathe. I will wait here and tend to your injury when you are done."

Dylan was too tired to argue so he got up and dragged himself to the shower. When he took his shirt off he saw that his bicep was swollen, red and hot to touch. Well, Tyr was right after all. He turned on the spray and got in. For a split second he thought about the Nietzschean getting in here with him. 'I must be running a fever,' he thought to himself, forcing the image out if his mind. Not that he was against having a relationship with a man, but Anasazi?

The object of Dylan's wayward thoughts was actually having a similar discussion with himself. His advanced hearing allowed him to discern the sounds coming from the bathroom even with the interference of the noise of running water. He heard the rustle of the leather when Dylan took off his jacket and pants and faint clunk of the belt buckle on the tiles when these items hit the floor. The shower door opened and closed and the rhythmic beat of water on the stall walls and floor changed to an irregular one when Dylan stepped in. He noticed the sharp intake of breath when rough sponge swiped over the inflamed flesh around the wound on Dylan's arm. He caught himself wanting to walk in there and . He cannot possibly be thinking that! He admitted, Hunt was an exceptional specimen of human male, fit and attractive. Tyr suddenly realized that his schpiel about survival and mutual dependency was just one big rationalization. He wanted to help Hunt; he wanted to stop his pain because he hated to see him hurt. Trying to divert himself from this dangerous path of thinking he called out:

"Ship! Increase the air filtering level in Captain Hunt's quarters and send a droid here with food, your Captain hasn't eaten properly in at least two days."

Rommie thought of a tart reply but Tyr's request actually made sense so she just said a short 'Aye' before proceeding.

"Well, thank you, Mother!" Dylan walked out of the shower, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of soft drawstring pants sitting low on his hips. Tyr looked at his arm and winced, it looked nasty.

"Would you care to sit down, Captain, so I can get it over with?"

"Why, Tyr, you are all heart," Dylan smarted, sitting down on the barstool. When he saw Anasazi pull out a syringe he cringed, "is it really necessary?"

Tyr raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly, "My Captain, if I didn't know any better I would say that you are afraid of needles. But surely I am mistaken, aren't I?"

Dylan looked uncomfortable, and then turned away and said, "just get on with it, will you?" It turned out that Anasazi was quite skillful. When Dylan commented on that, Tyr almost smiled.

"I am sure, Captain, that you remember well what I did for a living before joining you and your noble cause?"

"I do."

"So, you mist understand that this is just one of the skills I acquired in the process. After all, painless injection in an undetectable location is a very efficient way of delivering poison. And if one is trained in inflicting wounds he must now how to fix them, especially if it is for his own benefit."

"I take it you have had your fare share, Tyr?" Dylan's gaze was almost warm. Tyr wondered about it for a second before answering.

"In the beginning, yes. But I learned my lessons well."

"I am sure you did. I see you have become quite an expert in medicine among your other talents."

Tyr pressed the final bandage on with a little more force then necessary which made Hunt jump.

"You know what you are doing, Anasazi, but your bedside manner needs improvement!"

"And what did you expect me to do, kiss and make it better?"

"And if I did?"

"Then maybe I would have done just that!" Tyr's face was so close to Dylan's that Hunt could feel the Nietzschean's breath on his lips, his dark eyes held a challenge that Dylan was not yet ready to accept. Tyr smirked and straightened, closed the kit and turned to leave. When the door opened he looked back at Hunt, "I suggest you eat and rest, Captain, you will need a clear head tomorrow." The door closed with quiet hiss and Dylan just sat there, staring at his untouched dinner.


The Complexities Of Simple Games
********************************

After three weeks spent mostly in bed with Molly, dining with Molly, walking with Molly and doing whatever else came to mind with Molly Dylan felt good. He was in one of those semi-delusional states when one thinks that if he feels good the rest of the world should too. So he didn't notice Rommie's pursed lips, Beka's raised eyebrows and Tyr's increasing irritability and unprovoked bursts of anger. So, not suspecting a thing, being his old pre-Magog dense and cheerful self, Dylan suggested a game of basketball to Tyr. When Beka tried to interfere he just threw "Later, Beka!" over his shoulder and went to change.

When Dylan walked in, bouncing and dribbling the ball, Anasazi already waited for him in Hydroponics. Tyr usually played rough, but this game was downright vicious. Dylan didn't stand a chance and neither did the ball. After one particularly mean foul Dylan went tumbling down, couldn't get his balance back and fell hard on his face, splitting his lip and almost breaking his nose. The ball blew up from the sheer force of the impact. Hunt was furious:

"What the hell was that all about?! What is wrong with you, Anasazi?"

"What is wrong with me?" Tyr's nostrils flared in rage and lips twitched, his bone blades instinctively went up into fighting position. "What is wrong with ME? I should ask what is wrong with YOU, Captain!"

"What are you talking about, Tyr?"

"I am talking about you spending three weeks in bed with this. this harlot!"

"Excuse me?" Captain's voice was a mix of hiss and growl. "Since when are you my keeper, Mr. Anasazi? I do not recall putting you in charge of my personal affairs!"

"You tend to forget that your personal affairs have a direct effect on your crew! You have no idea who this woman is and why was she so . agreeable to sleep with you! For all we know she could have been a spy and for three weeks you gave her unrestricted access to this ship and the tour of the signed Commonwealth worlds. Do you have any proof that she is not another Satrina? I have told you on the number of occasions that you are behaving recklessly, Captain, and you have yet to prove me wrong!"

Rommie's hologram blinked into view: "Is everything alright, Dylan?"

"Andromeda, stay out of it!" Hunt's voice was harsh. Rommie looked hurt but obediently answered "Aye" and flickered out.

Tyr gave a short mirthless laugh.

"What is so amusing, Tyr?"

"You. You call me cold but you are so careless about the people around you that you even managed to hurt your ship's feelings. Did you not notice her reaction to your Belle Di Jour? You are more self-centered then a three-year-old child! When that barge exploded we thought we had lost you! And you didn't even bother to stop your kissing session to thank Andromeda for saving your ass!"

Dylan paused; something in Tyr's eyes stopped him from making another nasty comeback.

"You mean I didn't thank Andromeda and you for saving my ass."

"I don't anticipate gratitude from you, Captain Hunt. You said to me once that you expect Tyr to be Tyr. Well, I expect Dylan to be Dylan." With that Anasazi turned and walked away, leaving Dylan standing open-mouthed in Hydroponics, holding the remnants of his last basketball.

* * *

Later, much later Dylan found that he couldn't sleep. He tried to read but the lines blurred and the letters danced in front of his eyes. He kept thinking of how Tyr's face looked right before he left Hydroponics. Could it be? No, it is not possible. Tyr can't be hurt by his behavior. He can't be -- jealous? Finally Dylan got up, pulled on his sweats and not bothering with shoes left his quarters. Minutes later he paused before pressing the chime on Tyr `s door.

"Enter." Came short reply and the door hissed open. Tyr was sitting with his back to the entrance, looking at the stars in the porthole and listening to music. Old Earth Organ classic, Dylan knew that much. He remembered this particular piece; Anasazi was listening to it quite often right after. Hunt paused. It was right after Tyr almost died from the surgery, when Trance removed the Magog larvae.

Tyr's voice interrupted his thoughts, "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"How did you know."

"That it was you? I can smell you. So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Dylan hesitated. He was not sure himself why did he came, but it was too late to retreat, so he ran his hand through his already mussed hair and answered wearily, "I think we need to talk."

"Oh? About what?"

"About us."

"Us as what, Captain? Us as a Captain and his subordinate? Or us as friends? Or maybe."

"Us as two people who obviously have unresolved issues." Dylan walked over to where Tyr was sitting and sat down next to him. Neither of them said anything and pregnant silence hung over them like a blanket, gradually becoming stifling.

"Tell me something, Captain." Tyr finally spoke, his voice soft, "What do you think of me?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you see me, Tyr Anasazi? Do you see a mercenary, a cold-blooded killer, a self-serving bastard that you need to blackmail to keep on the leash?"

"Sometimes yes, I see all of the above. Sometimes I see a great warrior, an invaluable asset to this crew who claims not to give a damn but goes and dies for his engineer. And sometimes.sometimes I see a man who suffered so much pain in his life that I have no idea how does he manage to remain sane. Sometimes I even see myself in you."

"How so?"

"We are more alike then you know, Tyr. We both lost our loved ones, under different circumstances but still, it hurts all the same. We were both in the same line of work."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think Argosy Special Ops did?"

"You were a spook?"

"More or less. The only difference between us was that you dealt with individual people and I mostly had to handle governments and planets."

Tyr laughed; he threw his head back, bared his white teeth and roared with laughter. After a few minutes he calmed enough to be able to speak.

"This is priceless, our Mister High Ideals and World Order is a spook, a governmental mercenary of galactic caliber! Oh, I wish I have had someone to share the humor of this situation with!"

"Well, Tyr, you'll just have to be content with solitary enjoyment."

Tyr nodded, serious again. "So, if you say that we are so much
alike."

"Then I know how you feel."

"Clarify."

"When I came out of the Event Horizon and found out what happened and how long ago I was lost, confused, I was - still am sometimes - a fish out of water. When you and the others agreed to join me I had a purpose and a crew again, I had someone to care about. I think the same may apply to you. You were alone for years and now you a part of something, you have people who mean something to you."

"You know, Captain, your ship is more perceptive then you are."

"???"

"She figured out that it is you I care about, you who mean something -a lot actually - to me. Don't you think that if anyone else would take the Progenitor's remains from me they would live to see another day, Magog threat or not? Do you think I would face a herd of Calderans for anyone else? And I did hear your soliloquy when you were sitting with me in Medical thinking that I was dying. I guess that was what opened my eyes to my feelings toward you."

Anasazi finished and looked away, resting his chin on his laced fingers, elbows on his knees. Unprepared to hear what Tyr just spilled to him Dylan didn't know what to say so he just put his hand on Tyr's shoulder.

"You should know, Captain, Nietzscheans are not casually tactile like humans may be."

"I do know that." Dylan's hand moved further, towards Tyr's neck, long fingers slightly caressing heated skin.

Tyr turned to face Dylan, the motion so fast and sharp that his braids whipped about his head and hit Dylan across face. The sudden sensation was so strong it sent a jolt of feeling through his body, a rush of unexpected desire. He took Tyr's face in both hands and pulled him close, stopping microns away from his own.

"I thought that Nietzscheans usually take what they want without that much dancing around." He felt the warmth of his own breath bounce off Tyr's lips.

"Oh, but we do. Sometimes we just like it better when what we want comes to us." And he kissed Dylan hard, re-opening the cut on his lip and reveling in the taste of blood and something else, uniquely Dylan. Hunt didn't hesitate and answered with the bite of his own, making Tyr's mouth bleed as well. Both men were old enough to have had many lovers, men and women alike, but this was new and different for both. Somehow their years of loneliness and longing culminated in this joining, all the emotions they pretended did not exist re-surfaced in their thunderous lovemaking.

When the reality seeped back in through the cold tiles of the floor they somehow ended up on, Tyr laughed, "I did not know that High Guard Goody-Two-Boots could be so . skilled and passionate."

"There are plenty of things, my friend Horatio." Dylan quoted, and Anasazi laughed harder, "And he reads too!" Hunt didn't dignify that quip with an answer; he kept tracing intricate patterns on the soft skin between Tyr's bone blades.

"Dylan, do you have any idea what that does to me?"

"Mm-hm."

"And you are still doing it?"

"Mm-hm."

"Well, then it won't be my fault when you are sore in the morning."

Hunt twisted around and pinned Tyr to the floor: "I don't think I would be the only one who is sore in the morning, Anasazi!"

"May I make a suggestion, Captain?"

"What is it?"

"Shell we move to the bed?"

"We shell."

***

Rommie the Avatar was walking by Tyr's quarters and saw her holo-sister flickering in the hallway.

"You shouldn't be peeking, Andromeda," the Avatar admonished. "Some things are meant to be private."

"The privacy mode was not engaged, so technically I was not peeking. Besides, I was enjoying them from the esthetic point of view."

"Yes, they do look beautiful together. Put Ancient Greek gods to shame, don't they? Now, Andromeda, let's give them their privacy."

The Avatar continued walking down the hall and the hologram blinked off.


Fever
*****

When Tyr finally heard the Maru computer stop the countdown he felt lightheaded with relief. He didn't even pay attention to Andromeda's "Dylan did that!" Although it sounded like she was going to stick her tongue out to him, he let it slide. Trance showed up to relieve him and Anasazi left Command. He walked to his quarters on shaky legs, entered his rooms and slid down on the floor right by the door. He couldn't move.

This is how Dylan found him upon his return to Andromeda several hours later. The dark room and motionless figure on the floor scared the wits out of him. Hunt kneeled next to him, commanding, "Andromeda, lights on, full!" In the harsh fluorescent light he saw that Tyr's eyes were glazed, almost unresponsive to the level of light that usually would have been painful. His face was flushed, red spots visible even on the dark skin, but the rest of his body was ice-cold and clammy.

"Tyr! Tyr, talk to me! Anasazi, say something, dammit!" He shook Tyr by the shoulders but the Nietzschean just sagged further, like a rag doll.

"Rommie, I need your help!" Somehow he didn't want Trance here. Holo-Rommie appeared next to him.

"My android is on her way. Don't worry, Dylan, he is alright."

"Like hell he is! What are you saying, Rommie, Nietzscheans don't get sick, something must be wrong!"

"It is normal physiological reaction for a Nietzschean, Dylan."

"Reaction to what?!"

"Extreme stress and anxiety." Rommie walked in, kneeling next to Tyr and Dylan. "He is in a state that could be qualified as an emotional overload."

"Rommie, please explain!"

"Tyr became very anxious when we received your transmission form the Maru. When he realized that he might have to kill you his body had a reaction that in human would have caused a heart attack. And then you stopped Jensen and his mega-plan for you and Andromeda. The emotional relief he felt opened the floodgates. He was able to make it to his room on pure willpower and then he collapsed. I didn't interfere because usually these reactions resolve in a few hours."

"What can we do?"

"We can put him to bed and wait until he comes to, or we can give him a mild tranquilizer. He will relax enough to fall asleep and he'll be his normal self in the morning."

"Nobody is giving me any tranquilizers, ship! I am fine."

"Yep, right, you are just that! Let me know if you need me, Dylan!" Rommie got up and left without being dismissed, Dylan barely noticing.

Tyr groaned, "This is embarrassing. I have become disgustingly vulnerable and weak!" He attempted to get up but his legs buckled under him. Dylan caught him and carefully helped him stand. Unwilling to experiment again, Tyr allowed Dylan to help him get to bed. He dismissed any further attempts of assistance and finally after a long struggle with his boots and clothes he was able to lie down. Dylan sat in the chair, looking at him with concern:

"Want to tell me what is going on?"

"I wasn't ready to kill you. I tried to rationalize and convince myself that it was the only way to prevent that cybermaniac from taking over or destroying the Andromeda but I knew I wouldn't be able to bring myself to actually do it." Anasazi turned away but kept talking, "I would be pained to kill Captain Valentine and the Little Professor but you." His eyes were wet and so was his face, he couldn't stop the unwanted tears and hated himself for it. Suddenly he felt Dylan's hand gripping his jaw and forcing him to turn. Hunt's eyes held no pity or pretence but pure passion and - dare he hope?

"Tyr, are you saying you'd rather die with me then be the instrument of my death?"

Tyr's mouth twitched, tongue darted out for a split second licking at the cracked surface of his lips. "Yes, that's what I am saying. How much more pathetic can I get?"

Dylan ran his fingers over Tyr's face, wiping away the moisture from his eyes, lightly rubbing his temples, touching his lips. Instinctively Tyr leaned into the caress, cool touch soothing his burning skin. "Pathetic? How can you call love pathetic, Tyr?"

Anasazi raised his upper body, supporting himself on his elbows, "Are you saying that I may have feelings for you?"

"I am saying that you do have feelings for me. The way we, humans, see love is when you value another's life more then your own. You were not willing to kill me to ensure your own survival. What do you call that?"

"Foolishness."

"Well, then I love a fool."

It took a second to sink in and Anasazi sat bolt upright. "You what?" The room suddenly spun around him and Dylan barely managed to catch Tyr before he tumbled to the floor. He held him close, running his hand through the braids, rubbing his back, rocking slightly.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Tyr. I trust you enough to be vulnerable with you, why can't you do the same? Let go; just once allow your emotions to take over. Control is good, but the luck of it is better."

"You don't understand, Dylan. I haven't allowed myself to care for anyone since I lost my family. I couldn't afford to. And now."

"And now you care for someone and that someone cares for you. Loves you. Understand me, Tyr; I would never demand everything from you. I would never stand in the way of you becoming a husband and a father, on the contrary I will do everything I can to help you to achieve that status. I would want the same myself someday. But what we have is different. It is a rare joy that I treasure and would never see as something pathetic. And I don't want to waist any time on doubts because every day could be our last. I allowed myself to care for you, to love you and."

"I love you too."


The End.