Dead Men Don't Cry

A/N: Tyr POV.

Chapter Five: Perfect Possiblities


"I told her that I'd come back. Don't you make a liar out of me,"

That's what he said several minutes ago, before brushing past me like I wasn't here.

The boy needs time to himself, I know that, so why does every mintue that I stand here feel like ten? Why do I have to fight the urge to follow him, back to whatever corner he's hiding in? I tell myself that I don't have the time or inclination to find the answers, but I begin to think that I already may know them. Trying not to think about it is equally as hard as not following.

This is a sad state of affairs. We have just been forced to evacuate the ship because of our crazed captain. We're suppossedly going on a mission to find a man who doesn't want to be found, and I doubt that any of us have the first idea of where to look. We may very well never make it back to the Andromeda alive. And yet, the only thing I am truely concerned with is the boy. Strange, even my death wish has taken a back seat to Seamus Harper for the moment. Perhaps what ever has infecthe the captain is contagious.

Oh, yes, and then there are the remains of the progentier. I momentarily forgot about those as well. Here is the fate of my people, resting in a small box at my feet, and yet I'm too busy thinking about a human to notice. I haven't even secured them yet... well I suppose now is a good a time as any to find a new place for them. And while I'm back there, I can look in on Harper. How convienient.

I look up and that creature is watching me again. It was alarming enough when she was a cryptic purple colored alien, but now she seems much wiser, much more dangerous. I don't trust her. Sometimes it feels like she can see right though me, almost like she knows what I'm thinking.

She smiles before getting back to whatever she was doing before.

What is she smiling about? The idea that she might be able to see my thoughts is almost as destressing as the fact that I cannot see hers.

I remember the ship having pty oty of room for cargo and such, but the corpse of Drago Museveni cannot be dropped in some cargo bay with whatever else is in there. I know quite a few people who would gladly buy the remains for a sum which is much more than this piece of junk ship is worth. From the looks of things you would think it is about to fall to pieces any moment. Everytime we go to slipstream I'm almost surprised that it doesn't. However, if you look closer, at parts of a ship you normally wouldn't pay any attention to, you can see that quality, sometimes almost genius engeniering is the thing that keeps the Eureka Maru in working order. And once again my mind strays to the engeneer. That's happening more and more these days. Before I rarely even gave thought to engeneering and the more menial tasks aboard a ship. Wait, before what? It seems like I've almost always paid some kind of attention to his work, since I came aboard the Andromeda. His work on the avatar I found especially well done, even if his motives for making her at the time seemed irrelevant. Beautifully crafted. A shame we had to leave her behind, she seems to mean a lot to the boy.

I can't say that I wasn't saddened by our departure from the starship Andromeda. Not for my sake, really, but for his. I saw the look in his eyes after we had slip streamed away from the ship. He's grown attached to it, and to his android, and it seems she has as well. They both had to make decisions that they shn't n't have had to - her, the choice between a captain that she's sworn alligance to and the first real engeneer and friend that she's had in three hundred years. His choice was much simplier but at the same time much more painful. His life or hers. That's really what it came down to in the end, isn't it? He could have stayed and tried to protect her, fail, and most likely die trying. This way he may have comprimised her well being, but at least this way he can preserve his own. It was the right decision, but he still feels guilt. He shouldn't, but perhaps I should. Had I been compitant enough to simple do the deed... Things might have turned out differently if I had only turned my knife upon myself, instead of cycling through all my self doubt and cowardice. I should have been able to do what had to be done, instead of having someone else do it for me.

I exit the bridge, still aware of the orange tinted alien smiling down at her concol for no apparant reason. How annoying. I'm sure I know what she's thinking and I don't appreciate it. Having myself analize me is enough.

Soon I find myself walking back towards where I know the boy will be instead of where I should be going. I suppose it's no use fighting it anymore, considering that I seem to have already lost. I follow the corridor until where I know he will be is within sight, and sure enough, there he sits, beside his various tools of the trade and an exposed panel. It looks as though he gave up the idea of working long ago. He sits there, head in his hands, not crying, just hiding his eyes, more from himself than anyone else. I know the feeling.

I approach and then stop and watch him for a few moments. He knows I'm here, and he knows that I know that, yet he still just sits there, maybe hoping that I'll go away and allow him to wallow in his self pity and hurt. No such luck.

"There's no use in blaming yourself."

"Like hell there isn't."

I thought that would get a reaction out of him. He looks up with that fire that I'm getting used to seeing in his eyes, and then starts to stand up. I don't reply just yet. I know there is something more to his little speech.

"I left her behind, Tyr. I abandon her."

"No, you did the only the that could be expected."

"Yeah, choose myself over her. Leave her in the hands of a mad man."

"It was the right decision. The only decision, for that matter."

"It was the selffish decision. I should have stayed!"

Here we are again, standing facing each other, in yet another battle of words. I think I'm starting to see a pattern forming.

"Stayed and do what, exacty? Let yourself be killed so she could mourn over your rotting corpse?"

"At least I could have tried to protect her..."

"And for how long? A day? Two? Maybe a week, if you were lucky."

"Even an hour would have been better than nothing. Better than this."

"You would have become a liability."

"Oh, Thank you. Like I haven't been in bad situations before. I grew up on earth, remember? It isn't like gon gonna trip over my own feet or something."

"The android is stronger than Hunt. She has faster reflexes and can withstand more than any human could. She can take care of herself."

"Yeah, but not against Dylan. You know how she feels about him... this whole thing is hurting her - Dylan's complete lack of sanity, us leaving, and me of all people just abandoning her... She's not like you Nietzscheans, she has emotions, you know?"

"You doubt that I have emotions?"

He can't know how wrong he is... and somehow it seems this conversation is drifting from the matter at hand.

Harper looks like he's about to chock on the wohe jhe just said, or perhaps the ones he has yet to say. This conversation is about to go in a very achward direction, something I don't exactly feel like going through at momemoment.

"You call my death wish selffish, what of your own? Would it have been any more right to place upon your emotional little avatar the burden of your dimise? I doubt that would help her in the least, and it certainly doesn't seem any more fair or just than the current coarse of acti

He stands there, defeated, and shakes his head, more at the universe than any person in particular. Right now he looks so worn down, so tired, that it seems as if he were twice his age.

"Everything's falling apart, Tyr. Dylan's lost it, we left Rommie behind, the Andromeda won't be able to stop the World Ship, and everything will fall back into utter chaos... It wasn't suppose to be like this, there was supposed to be a happy ending, but now I really doubt if I'll even survive..."

I can't help but reach a hand out towards him and wipe away some of those tears that are falling from his eyes. He looks so vunerable right now, like a disillsionedld tld that has just discovered that life isn't a fairy tale after all. I lift my hand and brush a stray bit of hair from his forehead. It's soft... much like the down of a young bird. Much like I had imagined it to be, even though I never remember ever imagining how his hair would feel... This is madness, but I'm powerless to stop it. I want to take away my hand but I can't. His skin is just as soft as his hair, but I restrain myself from moving any further than his cheek. This is selffish of me - here he is, with the weight of the universe wrongfully placed upon his shoulders, and all I can do is think of my own... difficulties.

"You should't burden yourself like this. Not everything is your responsibility."

His eyes, which remained introverted throughout the dialogue, suddenly seem to awaken. He looks almost confused, as if he's trying to figuut wut where he is and what he's doing. Finally he asks:

"Why are you here?"

I let my hand fall as I try to think of an appropriate excuse, but nothing comes to mind. Then I begin to wonder why he's asking, and what exactly it is he is trying to ask.

"Are you sure you need me to spell it out for you?"

"No," he answers quickly, perhaps too quickly. He looks down at the floor, as if he's afraid to meet my eye, and then all of a sudden he seems very afraid.

"I'm not sure of anything, anymore. Not sure if we'll ever find Rev, not sure if we can save Dylan, so he can save the universe. Can't be sure about any of the decisions I make anymore, either... they all seem like the wrong ones. You know what else scares me? I'm not sure I'm ever gonna see Rommie ever again..."

He turns and sits down on the edge of the platform, dangling his legs over the side. It would be wrong to put any of my own troubles upon the boy. Perhaps now would be an oppurtune time to leave. He's making his position clear...

"I'm not even sure of how I feel..." he says, and he looks up at me. Dare I hope that he is refering to something other than his beloved android? He gazes at me with purpose of sorts, but still I refuse to believe. If he means something by all of this, then one day he'll tell me what it is. He's in pain, perhaps blinded by it and I am in no position to help him make decisions now that he may regret later.

"You'll see your star ship again."

"Tyr, that's not-"

I stop him before he says anything foolish.

"Not now. It can wait until things... sort themselves out."

He looks like he's about to protest, but then he seems to see the wisdom of my words. I let my hand rest upon his shoulder for a moment, before I turn to walk away. I have gotten only a few steps away before his voice stops me.

"Hey, Tyr!"

I turn around to see him standing anxiously, almost looking like he's about to cry again.

"Trance always says that theres a pet pot possible future, where everything will turn out like it's 'spose to. You think she's right?"

I look into those cool forest colored depths once more before answering.

"Perhaps."

TBC

A/N: And everyone plays it safe until the next chapter... I think you might be surprised by the POV next time around.