Andromeda Slash Fan Fiction
What Could Be
By Joy

T.Rhade/Dylan; NC-17; 62 kb
Spoilers for some of season 4, up to Trusting the Gordian Maze
Summary:  Telemachus Rhade finds out what's possible and what's not.
Author Note:  I'd like to thank(blame) my beta, but alas, there isn't one.
All flaws and blame are mine.  Flaws spotted and corrected two days later *smirk*
after first posting this on my birthday, 2/21/2005.

Inside his quarters, Telemachus Rhade felt...lost. That was inaccurate; it was more accurate to say that he felt disconnected. Abstractedly, Rhade was adrift, like a raft at sea. Aboard the Andromeda Ascendant, as Dylan Hunt's third-in-command, he lived both a dream and a nightmare. He hadn't earned his posting, however unorthodox that posting was assigned.

The Home Guard had assigned him the rank of Admiral, ostensibly because he was the only one with experience. After Tarazed had been made part of the old, and defunct, Common Wealth, the powers that be decided Admiral was too exalted a rank for a man of Rhade's limited years. Rhade tended to agree but the demotion still stung. It was ironically fitting that he now served onboard the very same ship his ancestor had. His demotion was a milder punishment in absentia.

Commander Gaheris Rhade had been Dylan's second-in-command a very long time ago. Rhade knew from what little he'd learned, that they had been best friends, as much as any Nietzschean can have a best friend with a Human. He'd never learned this from Dylan, but the man always went strangely quiet whenever Gaheris was the subject, and Rhade could feel that it was not as much from a feeling of sadness as it was anger. Dylan had levels of anger and so far, the ones Rhade had seen that hurt deep were silent.

A Human and a Nietzschean. A strange friendship, and in Rhade's estimation, a doomed one, fated to self-destruct, considering that Gaheris had been operating under a deficit. He'd been angry and that always led to bad judgment. Gaheris had betrayed his best friend because of his misguided sense of loyalty and his anger at the Common Wealth. One betrayal did not equal another and it sickened Rhade to think his ancestor could have been so... weak.

Rhade's instincts also told him that Gaheris and Dylan hadn't only been friends; their commitment to each other ran far more deeply. It was uncommon but not unheard of. Nietzscheans tended to mate for purposes of progeny, not emotion, but there were some who resisted that. Like himself. Most Nietzscheans, unfortunately, were not what he had tried to achieve: a sense of inner peace, growth, and the need to continually improve oneself.

Gaheris had been someone like that at one time, but Dylan had confirmed that that was not who had tried to kill him. He had fallen victim to the old--and current--Nietzschean standard: to strive for dominance, not self-improvement. While it was an honorable thing to endeavor to become the Alpha of their own Pride, something had become corrupt, so the need for dominance became vain ambition and neglected self-worth, where only the destruction of others gave them any sense of purpose. Such a legacy was not one Telemachus Rhade, out of Majoram, by Rhade, wanted to claim relationship to.

Once Rhade had learned the truth about Gaheris, he had tried to ignore his heritage, but some things could not be changed; he had, at least, fathered children, so there was something he had achieved through his genetic drive. Still, he might be proud--at times--to be Nietzschean, but on the whole, his genetically enhanced people made him sick.

Aside from the factor of race, in matters of the heart, where loyalty stood alongside love, it was hard to ignore that Gaheris had probably loved Dylan very much, and Telemachus could easily see why. It was therefore more imperative for him to keep it from happening. Gaheris had hurt Dylan badly, and so much so that Rhade felt he had to work and fight that much harder to win the man's trust. Adversity had always been his ally so that was just fine with him. He had to do something to assuage his familial guilt.

Rhade did not need to work hard at giving his own loyalty and trust, however. Dylan had it. The question remained whether Rhade would be able to earn it in return. He didn't think that was likely, because whatever had motivated Dylan to rescue him from that psycho, Pish, it had been based on a tactical decision, nothing more. Rhade could live with that, but he considered it a personal challenge to undo the damage done by Gaheris. He didn't fool himself into believing that it would be easy, or even possible, nor did he fool himself that he could have anything as deeply connecting as union. But perhaps he could earn something just as loyal:  Professional friendship. Only time would tell.

~

Rhade felt the first sense of peace since joining the Andromeda crew. He was now one of the team. All it seemed to have taken was a long excursion to rescue--and not rescue--the daughter of a king, and with it, some excellent verbal sparrage with Beka Valentine.

It had taken her a while to relax around him, but Rhade was not fooling himself with her, either. She would never trust him. Tyr Anasazi had seen to it that Beka's trust in Nietzcheans has been destroyed. Rhade understood, and still did not understand how Dylan could trust him as well as he had shown.

"I think I'm a good judge of character, Rhade. I trust you because...I do."

Sighing, he pulled his black tank top off and dropped it into the disposal, the hissing sound telling him the extraction and reformation unit was operating normally. As he sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled off a boot, he felt something hard under his ass. Reaching under him, he pulled out the small book he'd left there. He turned it over to the open page and read the underlined passage. It seemed unusually appropriate.

"I saw you there, I saw you then. The saddest words, 'What might have been'."

A few months ago, Beka had stopped by after they'd returned from the edge of the Abyss. She'd given him the book as a peace offering. She hadn't trusted him then any more than she did now, but the book was a sign to Rhade that she wanted some sort of healing. Not for her sake or his, but for Dylan's. Rhade smiled wistfully at her underlined words now made ironic, at least to him. Beka had loved Tyr. Gaheris had loved Dylan. Each had been the betrayed and the betrayer.

The thoughts brought Rhade back to the question he'd been avoiding. Had Dylan ever returned Gaheris' feelings? While typical human hearts did not work in triads, Dylan's wasn't typical. If he had had strong feelings for Gaheris, were they now a hindrance to his trusting Telemachus, his genetic reincarnation? Were they forever linked by that betrayal, creating an impasse to complete trust?

Rhade breathed deeply and shook his head. It didn't matter if he had Dylan's trust. He was honor-bound to give his own, and he trusted Dylan with his future, for that was why he had decided to stay. Dylan was change and renewal. He was bold, he took risks, and always for the better. He was growing more confidant that a bond of friendship could form, but anything else was an indulgence in thought and a waste of time.

~

Another mission over, this one another story of betrayal, and a spy now caught in the slipstream maze. Perhaps forever.

Dylan had cared about Andra--as unlikely as that was to Rhade because in his opinion, there hadn't been any time to cement any feelings, to exchange knowledge. Dylan had known that she had been a spy for Tri Gemma, but he had told Trance that he'd trusted Andra. But in the end, he really hadn't.

It hadn't stopped him from sleeping with her, either.

Rhade angrily tossed his clothes across the room, toward the disposal unit, and missed, the black cloth hitting the floor. He stood there stark naked, clenching his jaw in frustration, glaring at the pieces of clothing as if they'd deliberately disobeyed him.

None of the lovers Dylan had were ever real for him, so why did he keep trying to fill the void left behind by his late wife with lesser women who were doomed to fail? Every single time, the inevitable happened, and Dylan would lock himself away in his quarters for a few hours or a day, depending on how attached he'd allowed himself to become. But it never helped, Rhade thought with angry frustration. What good did it do Dylan to lock himself away and mourn his latest loss when he continually repeated his own history again and again? Dylan had to know this behavior was self-destructive and ultimately self-defeating.

What made Rhade angrier was knowing that there was nothing he could do to help the man. He may be a different, more sensitive Nietzschean but this was one time when he wished he were more like his ancestor, and able to disconnect himself from those he cared about. If he did not hurt when Dylan hurt, or worried for him even when he could not help, he was sure he'd be more content. But that was not his lot in this life, was it?

Rhade coughed out a self-derisive laugh. "From one self-destructive life to another," and he made a fist and tightened it, gritting his teeth, focusing, trying to break the bones in his fingers and--

The door beeped, cutting off his anger, and Rhade quickly swallowed his feelings and assumed a bland expression. "Enter."

Trance stood in the doorway, curious and quietly meddling, her aura twinkling over her skin. Rhade wondered if Dylan had ever noticed the aura or how she smelled sometimes like honey.

"Am I disturbing you, Telemachus?" she asked, one hand on the frame of the door, a strange smile on her face.

"Not at all, Trance. What can I do for you?"

"May I come in?"

Startled by her request, he glanced at the floor, his arms opening. "Of course, forgive me for being rude."

"No need. You weren't," she said brightly.

When she entered the room and shut the door behind her, Rhade was suddenly confronted with the reason for her strange smile. He wondered if she were offended by his nudity. So many things about Trance Gemini confused him.

He cleared his throat and was pleased that his voice was calm and reassuring. "I apologize for my lack of clothing, Trance. I will find--"

"No," she told him, her hand on his forearm. "Nudity does not bother me. The human form is beautiful."

Rhade's cheek twitched with amusement. "I am not human."

"You were designed from the human form, Telemachus. You are therefore beautiful."

He did not need to be reminded of that. Sometimes being Nietzschean was not what he wished he could be. He cleared his throat again.

"I can come back..." she offered.

"No, but please excuse me while I put something on. Should an emergency arise, I would like to run out of here with some clothing on. It wouldn't do to make Harper squeamish." She giggled, which made him smile. But that smile faded as he pulled on the long, black, form-fitting shorts and she watched him with her usual stream-lined focus.

She tilted her head again, and had that look of observation and study. "They make you look sleek," she said. "You remind me of a black panther, genus panthera, a large four-legged predator called a big cat, from Earth. There are vids of them in the All Systems University archives."

Rhade did not know what to say to that, although he strangely liked the classification. "Thank you," was all he could come up with, yet somehow, that seemed unsatisfactory.

"So, how are you doing?"

"I am well, thank you. Yourself?" he said, knowing that it was the simplistic answer because he didn't want to talk about how he was doing. After six months, it was sort of hard to tell.

She gave him that enigmatic smile that sometimes gave him a headache. Her large, dark eyes looked into his and pulled the answers from him anyway, like a flower turning toward the sun. He saw reflections there, almost as if he had been looking into the banked embers of a furnace. The woman, if she were a woman, was one powerful being.

"I am coping as well as to be expected. I miss my family but I have chosen to follow Dylan."

"You think you will atone for your ancestor, Gaheris."

He paused, sitting down at the small table in his room. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I can only try. You see much, Trance."

"I see many things, Telemachus Rhade."

He saw the look on her face and was immediately afraid that she was there to tell him his future. "I don't want to know, Trance."

She only smiled and said, "I'm not here for that, and I would never presume to tell you that which you do not want to know unless it bore direct relevance to Dylan."

He had sighed with relief. "Then why are you here, for it cannot only be to see how I am fairing among the crew?"

Trance took a deep breath as she studied his eyes, unnerving him a little.

"What is it?" he asked, becoming alarmed.

"It is nothing bad, Rhade. It is just that sometimes, the future scares me."

"It scares all of us because it is unknown, but even with that, I would prefer it to be. Without the unknown, there is no challenge. Besides, who wants to live forever?"

She gave him a very sad smile then. "Exactly. Who does?"

"Trance, I'm enjoying this little tête-à-tête, but--"

"He's going to need you, Rhade," she said suddenly. "When things are bad and he'll want to hide, he'll need you to help him keep focused on what's important."

Rhade shook his head and looked down. "He does not need me for that, Trance. Dylan finds his own way."

"Yes. Sometimes. But there will be times when he will get lost and I will do my best to see him through them. I am asking you to do yours, to be there for whatever he needs, even if it is something small or insignificant to you. Promise me you will do this."

"I'm not sure I can give--"

"I know it is within you. Just promise me."

Rhade was suddenly confused, and wondered if Trance were, too. "He has my loyalty and my trust, what else is there?" She stared at him, not answering and he sighed heavily. "Trance, you mean well, but it's not necessary. I would never presume to waste his time with philosophies or physical exercise he can get from you, the gym, or in his own quarters."

"And do you not need his help occasionally? Would you not talk to him when you need to?" That was accompanied by one of her strange smiles and he frowned.

"Why would he listen to my problems? I am here to learn from him, not the other way around."

"You are here to atone and there are many ways to achieve that. Help him, and let him help you."

"But I don't..." His left his words fade at the next reprimanding look she gave him. She didn't believe him, and that was just as unnerving as everything else about this conversation.

"Telemachus Rhade," she said softly, taking two steps until she was practically under his nose. "There are a lot of things in the universe that we cannot control or affect, but there are a few. Promise me you will try."

He shook his head again, confused what it was she thought he could do. "Fine, I promise," he said in as quiet a tone, "but I don't know what I can do for him. He won't listen to anyone but himself, or probably you. I can't blame him for that."

She looked sad and again, he wondered why. "Try, Rhade. You won't be wasting your time." She then turned and left without another word. Rhade stared at the door, thinking how unpredictable she was. Like Dylan.

He pressed a button in the wall, and the sink slid outward. When it stopped, a small faucet projecting a jet of water which began to fill the sink. After washing his face, he lifted the plasma razor device to his face when the door beeped again. Rolling his eyes, he paused, waiting for whomever it was to go away.

He had no intention of opening the door to more sarcastic wit delivered by Harper. Over the past few nights, the young man had endeavored to bestow his own brand of trust with ancient anecdotes, weak jokes, and deliberately tossed but mildly amusing insults. Rhade found that while he quite liked the young man, he didn't want company. If it was Beka, come to deliver her own brand of camaraderie by spitting out venomous sarcasm, he'd pass. Her method of getting to know him involved verbal sparring that cut too deeply sometimes, leaving him with a feeling of vulnerability that was simply unacceptable and--

The door beeped again, only this time, it was accompanied by a voice through the comm. "Rhade, it's your Captain, not Harper, not Beka, so open up."

Rhade gripped the plasma device too hard and managed to eject a blue laser light across his arm, shaving off a strip of hair. He dropped it on the small counter top and rubbed the skin. "Dammit." Maybe he could pretend it had always been there, except no one would by that. As odd as they were, Beka, Trance, and Harper had excellent memories and they'd tease him. Hell, so would Rommie. And Dylan. Dammit, what the hell was he doing here?

"Rhade, hello?" and an actual knock on the door followed.

Rhade couldn't help but smile, and adjusted his expression when he caught himself. Hating that he was allowing himself to become increasingly distracted, he blurted out, "Come."

The door hissed open and he stood at attention, eyes on a point on the wall to Dylan's right. "Captain, please forgive my rudeness. I've no excuse--"

"Rhade, at ease. You're not at the Academy, for cryin' out loud," Dylan told him as he walked in, hand in the air waving downward.

Rhade cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

Dylan looked him over far too long and for a moment, Rhade couldn't figure out what the problem was. Till he remembered.

"Excuse me, Captain--"

As he opened a drawer below the bed to retrieve one of his black t-shirts, Dylan said, "Rhade, how many times do I have to tell you? Off-duty means no rank, especially," he laughed, "among this crew."

Rhade slipped his shirt on and pulled it down, glancing at Dylan as he turned, stood, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Rhade, were you listening?" Dylan asked as he sat down at the small table.

Rhade allowed a small grin and nodded once. "Dylan."

"Better," Dylan replied. "Now, carry on with whatever you were about to do when I interrupted," and he gestured at the sink.

Rhade turned back, glared at the plasma razor and opened another drawer, retrieving the straight razor and bottle of facial foam that Andromeda had manufactured for him.

Dylan gestured. "I see you like to shave the old-fashioned way."

Rhade looked at the straight razor in his hand, his jaw working as he then pointed at the plasma razor on the counter. "I started to use that but it's too uncontrolled," and guardedly he held up his forearm, showing the line of missing hair. Dylan started to chuckle. "I'm using the razor from now on. Less dangerous and it keeps the reflexes honed, even for such a simple task."

"I gotta hand it to you, Rhade. You keep surprising me."

Rhade frowned, and couldn't see the need for a rejoinder so he said nothing.

Dylan pointed to his own chin, his expression a bit secretive. "Gonna keep that?"

"I was thinking of shaving it off."

"Oh."

"Why?" he asked, surprised. "You think I should keep it?"

Dylan evaded him by answering, "It's not my place to set personal grooming preferences among the crew."

"Yes, sir," Rhade answered.

"Rhade, what is it gonna take?"

Rhade paused in mid-trim, stifling the urge to grin. "I'll remember not to say 'sir' when you start answering questions directly."

Dylan chuckled. "Touche', Rhade. Okay, fine. It looks good on you. Makes you look sinister."

He had that grin on his face, which meant he was teasing. But Rhade actually liked the analogy. "Very well, thank you. So, what can I do for you?"

Dylan got up at that moment, his palms rubbing his thighs. The action put Rhade on alert. Dylan did that before saying something uncomfortable and his next words verified the suspicion.

"Rhade, we need to talk."

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked with a sharp frown, turning from Dylan's reflection to face him. He set down the towel and figured any further grooming could wait.

"No, no, nothing wrong," Dylan dismissed. "I should probably restate what I said. I need to talk to you about something."

Trance's words were suddenly there in the room with them. "About?"

"You and Gaheris."

Rhade dismissed the pit in his stomach that now settled there. He had been awaiting the questions that Dylan would pose regarding his genetic reincarnation, but time had passed without a word and Rhade had begun to think that his Captain would judge him on his own worthiness and abilities. Apparently, his own abilities were as flawed as his assumptions.

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do. Listen, could we take this to my quarters? I uh, haven't showered yet."

"So I see." Rhade noted that Dylan hadn't bothered to change from his gym clothes. The black sweat pants and sleeveless t-shirt were still damp with sweat, the snug clothing sticking to him, accentuating his athletic build. The man was very handsomely built, Rhade privately conceded. Very handsomely built. Again, Rhade had allowed himself to be distracted, and for something so...useless. Flawed abilities indeed.

"I'd offer you my shower, but I would suspect that you'd decline."

Dylan grinned. "You'd be right. I like my very roomy shower."

Rhade smirked at him. "Unlike the rest of us, who actually enjoy small, cramped spaces."

Dylan's browline rose considerably. "You should have heard Tyr. The man constantly complained."

"I am not surprised," Rhade answered, and he wasn't. Beka commented on his ego and meticulous grooming habits, but Tyr had been a walking shrine unto himself. At least she'd agreed.

Finished, Rhade gestured at the door. "Lead the way."

"Unless you'd feel better talking here, Rhade. I didn't mean to--"

"Forgive me, Dylan, but it doesn't matter to me. You prefer to talk where you're comfortable and I can appreciate that."

"You're as discriminating as I am. You'd prefer to talk where you're most comfortable, right?"

"True, but I have not found that place yet."

"You haven't? What about here?"

Rhade's grin was wistful. "My quarters would be, if the crew did not already view them as their own private weigh station for insults and veiled threats."

"Who's threatening you?" Dylan asked, scowling.

"Veiled but meaningless threats."

Dylan cringed slightly. "Beka?"

Rhade shrugged and opened the door. "Shall we go?"

.

Dylan's quarters were huge, beautifully decorated, and complete with an actual bedroom. Rhade had to look, his innate curiosity getting the better of him, and returned the grin Dylan shot at him.

"Finding everything to your satisfaction?" Dylan asked.

Rhade nodded. "Especially like the large bed and that it's stationed away from all but one wall at the head. I am always hitting my elbows and bone blades. I can't tell you how annoying that is."

"I've been there, Rhade," Dylan told him, then paused, "er, minus the bone blades, of course."

"Of course."

Reentering the central room, Dylan moved to the bar and fixed himself a drink and Rhade watched him with interest from the far window. "Want one?" Dylan asked.

Rhade started to decline, then shrugged. "Whatever you're having is fine."

Dylan snorted and poured another.

"What's so funny?" Rhade asked, approaching the bar. Damned if he'd let Dylan bring it to him like a servant.

Dylan eyed him for a second as he handed him the drink. "It's what Gaheris used to say. Nietzscheans don't drink as a general rule so whenever I'd ask him, he wouldn't know what was good. Why he trusted me to pick for him, I don't know. He never finished a drink I gave him so I've always assumed that he either didn't like it or he was being polite. He never said one way or the other." He paused and took a long drink from his glass.

Rhade sniffed the contents of his glass and detected through the ice something he identified as bourbon whiskey, an Earth liquor, mixed with something else he could not identify. "Smells okay," he said, and took as long a drink as Dylan had, grimacing slightly at the burn. "Tastes okay," he said, breathing harshly for half a second.

"I'm so relieved," Dylan smirked, taking another drink. He gestured that they sit on the short divan by the window across the room. Rhade followed him over, pushing some of the pillows out of the way as he sat at one end and Dylan sat at the other. Not much of a separation; the divan was only four feet in length.

As Rhade took in the drink and where they were, he wondered if Dylan weren't doing all of this on purpose. He had the feeling that he was being placated or soothed. But then, perhaps that was understandable. Gaheris was not exactly a positive subject.

"Andromeda, I don't want to be disturbed, and engage privacy mode please," Dylan suddenly said.

"Aye, Captain," came the automatic response, followed by a musical tone.

Rhade tried to prepare his mind for anything Dylan might ask. There were things he knew, things he suspected, and Dylan probably wanted answers. But soothing him wasn't necessary, Rhade thought. The things he knew were not embarrassing.

Dylan looked at Rhade very carefully. "I was talking to a few people on Tarazed when we first met. I was led to believe that your Nietzschean code somehow developed inherited memory. Is that true?"

Rhade leaned into the pillows against the wall. It seemed some of his assumptions weren't completely flawed. "You want to know what I remember from Gaheris' relationship with you?" he spoke quickly. "Or would you like tactical information?" Dylan opened his mouth to say something but Rhade went on, not letting him. "The first answer is, yes, I have inherited memory."

Rhade took a deep breath, telling himself to speak more slowly. There was no hurry. "The second answer is the memories are flawed. They're fractured pieces that I can't put together in any kind of relative time frame, except for a few. Gaheris' first meeting you, serving with you, finding it damned difficult to earn your trust because of who and what he was. His meeting Sarah and finding her suitable enough for you."

Dylan barked out a loud laugh as he sat forward. "Suitable?"

"Don't misunderstand, please. You remember what he was like. I do not. These glimpses into his past don't allow me much insight into the man, but know that I would never have asked for clarification about the Battle of Witchhead if I could have simply accessed the knowledge."

Dylan stared at him, studying him, and Rhade could see the man thinking, evaluating.

He was suddenly struck by more than a few parallels. Trusting and not trusting Gaheris and himself. Dylan was probably wondering just how much of Gaheris was actually in him.

"I'm not like him," he said abruptly, meeting Dylan's gaze, and more than a little satisfied to find surprise written there.

"I didn't expect you to be."

Rhade lifted a brow in surprise.

"Well, not totally," Dylan admitted. "I just wondered if what you remember is also what you feel. I mean, if you share the feelings he had."

"You wonder if the feelings he had for you affect the way I feel?" He hadn't particularly expected the words to sound as precise as they had, and neither did Dylan, judging by his expression. Yet there was no getting around the truth. He was attracted to Dylan, just as Gaheris had been. "His feelings for you aren't mine, if that's what you think. I share them to an extent but it's more a case of coincidence, I think, then any direct influence."

"You're certain?" Dylan asked, looking away for a moment before he returned his attention to him.

"Positive," Rhade answered, curious as to where this was going. He took in the feelings he had about being soothed, placated in a way, and laughed out loud, mostly to himself.

"What's funny?" Dylan asked, standing slowly, emptying his drink.

Rhade drained his own glass and stood to meet the man eye to eye. "Did you bring me here to seduce me? To find out how much of Gaheris is inside me?"

"I don't need to seduce you to find that out, Rhade."

"No, you don't."

"But perhaps I might have wanted to seduce you for separate reasons," he added carefully, and there was that scrutiny again.

"Separate reasons?" Rhade had to ask. "It's easiest to be clear."

Earlier parallels were suddenly re-drawn, along with Rhade having to carve another notch in negative self-analysis. Dylan slept with people he didn't trust, and that included Gaheris. Did he want to sleep with Rhade to establish a reason for trust? No, that made no sense, except that trusting him was apparently still an issue. Perhaps it always would be.

Like Beka, Dylan had been burned two too many times by a Nietzschean he'd given his trust to, Gaheris more than Tyr. There really was no way that Dylan would ever trust him.

"You're thinking too much, Rhade," Dylan said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Perhaps. Self-analysis is something I am constantly reinventing. But it isn't necessary to waste your time with it." He suddenly thought that was a needless thing to say. "The point is, have I answered your questions to your satisfaction?"

"Just one more."

Rhade nodded. "Ask. If I can answer, I will."

Dylan took the single step that separated them, closing the distance till they were merely inches apart, but not touching. "Do your memories tell you about Gaheris and me?"

Rhade felt that Dylan was finally getting to the issue and wondered--not for the first time since he'd met Dylan--if having sex with someone you don't trust made it more or less meaningful. In his experience, it was less. While he was aware that sex was a common political tool, he never considered employing it that way. Apparently it wasn't a problem for Dylan.

"If you mean to ask if I know that you and my ancestor were lovers, yes, Dylan. I know."

A shudder, like a sigh, but whether from relief or worry, Rhade couldn't tell yet. Dylan's eyes were searching his face, curiously moving between his lips and eyes as if he could get answers from both. Rhade found himself amused suddenly, asking himself if Dylan were moving past the simple curiosity and thinking about...similarity. His mouth curled upward crookedly as he gave the man a wry smile. "You are wondering about things that serve no purpose, you know."

Dylan laughed this time, nodding. "Yeah, probably. But is it crazy that I want to know?"

A slow smile from Rhade, something he can't hold back. "No, it's not, it's just useless to think of things that won't serve you."

"Is it useless that I feel things for you, more than I'd allowed myself to feel for Gaheris?"

A strange heat welled deep within Rhade's belly. A flare of want and need. He made an effort to clamp down on it and was surprised when the feeling didn't go away. At least he was able to hide it.

"Are you sure that it isn't you who is transferring feelings? I'm not Gaheris, Dylan. I never was and I never will be."

Dylan swallowed and gave out a short, embarrassed laugh. "I know that, Rhade, and yes, I'm sure."

"What was the point in revealing that, or in asking me here?" he quickly asked, needing to know. "If it was to discern your trust in me, than in my opinion, you've wasted your time. You had your belief formed long before this conversation."

Dylan shrugged unsettlingly like a man who is unsure of himself. "Maybe I wanted a second opinion. Maybe I wanted clarification."

Rhade closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Dylan, I can give you two assurances. The first is knowledge you don't have. It's taken me long hours of meditation to find it, but I managed to track down something that Gaheris' actually felt. About you."

"And that would be?" Dylan asked warily.

"That betraying you was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He hated it, and he hated it because he loved you."

Dylan held his breath, then braved the front and asked, "What's the second thing?"

"That is something I will never do."

Rhade was as certain of that as he was in breathing, but he realized that his answer was vague.

"Which?" Dylan asked before Rhade could say what he meant.

"I will never betray you."

"Never say never, Rhade," Dylan said with deadly seriousness. "None of us can be certain of our future and I know that more than most."

Rhade sighed, considering his words. "Then let me say that it will never be my intent to do so, consciously or subconsciously." He looked down, staring at the black fabric of Dylan's t-shirt, seeing but not seeing. He simply used it as a focal point, allowing his thoughts to further examine that issue, rehashing all his earlier arguments and points, wondering where they all led. If anywhere.

Neither of them moved, their words hanging in the air, their significance heavy, pointed and harsh. Then Dylan raised his hand to Rhade's face and instinctively, Rhade flinched, his head moving back, even though his body remained where it was. Dylan's hand lightly cupped his chin, his thumb brushing lightly over Rhade's goatee...and lips.

Startled, Rhade kept his mouth closed, eyes trained on Dylan's, trying to figure out what was going through the man's unpredictable mind. When Dylan tilted his head slightly and started to lean in, Rhade pulled back, taking half a step away. He was then filled with surprise when Dylan's arm went around his waist, stopping him.

Intent was clear, but Rhade didn't want it, not for the reasons he thought Dylan was doing it. Establishing trust. He didn't need to be seduced for that.

"I thought you were going to take a shower?" Rhade asked, deflecting. He really did not want to broach the subject of trust. He didn't want to hear the words and he knew it made him a coward. That was okay, though. One always had to endeavor to improve oneself and this merely added another item to his long list.

"I am," Dylan said, leaning in again. He brushed his lips very lightly over Rhade's, as if gauging his reaction. Rhade didn't move or react. He simply waited. Dylan pulled back, showing a frown creasing between his brows, and asked, "I thought you had feelings for me?"

"My feelings for you are irrelevant," Rhade replied, confused. What did his own feelings have to do with anything?

"Like hell," Dylan told him, and kissed him for real this time, pulling Rhade firmly against him. Regardless of how he felt, Rhade still did not kiss him back. Dylan's eyes were open, watchful, just as Rhade's were, and with Dylan watching like that, Rhade knew that he was being tested. He felt the hurt but pushed it aside, reminding himself how insignificant it was. He allowed the kiss, waiting for Dylan to pull back, to get whatever confirmation he needed, for whatever reason, be it Gaheris or his own security.

When Dylan finally moved back, he asked, "Come help me shower."

Rhade faked a grin. "You don't need help."

"Wash my back."

"That's unusually metaphorical," he said wryly.

"Perhaps. Come on," Dylan told him, stepping back and taking Rhade's hand, moving backwards, his attention solely on Rhade, not where he was going. It made sense, Rhade thought absently. A man should know his own quarters blindfolded.

As he allowed himself to be led, Rhade felt as if time were coming to a standstill; as if he were being given a respite from duty and obligation. He longed to accept that gift, but he couldn't, and inside the bathroom, he pulled from Dylan's grip.

"It is not that I don't desire you, Dylan, but I simply cannot allow myself to be..." He paused, finding the appropriate euphemism.

"To be what?" Dylan asked, frowning. "Used? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Rhade gave him a wistful grin, not answering.

Dylan's hands were suddenly gripping his shoulders, pushing Rhade against the wall by the shower; it wasn't a hard push, nor violent. Just... insistent. "Answer me, Rhade."

"Not for your own baser needs," Rhade answered honestly, fighting off a fluttery feeling in his belly and trying to order his cock to be silent and do what he told it to do. It wasn't cooperating, so apparently his failing abilities were stressed there as well. Dammit. He cleared his throat and added, "You need to establish whether or not I can be trusted. From what I've observed, you tend to use sex."

Dylan was clearly indignant and offended but Rhade would not regret the honesty. "Did it ever occur to you that rescuing you from that piece of shit Collector meant I had faith in being able to trust you? That I'd want to?" Rhade had no answer for that, though he wasn't given time to formulate one even if he had. "As for my methods, Rhade, they differ with everyone. I don't always have ulterior motives when I sleep with someone."

"You mean 'have sex with'."

Dylan rolled his eyes, then laughed and dropped his forehead on Rhade's shoulder. "Yes, Rhade, that's what I mean. Humor me and take the metaphors for what they are." He stepped back slowly, not looking at him, and stripped off his t-shirt, then his sweat pants and briefs. The man was not modest, at least in front of him. Dylan opened the shower door and reached in, turning on the water; it quickly achieved a steaming temperature and Rhade could smell the metallic odor of the filtering process.

Above that odor, Rhade could smell something else. As Dylan turned back to face him, Rhade knew he did not need to look down to see the arousal he knew was there. His enhanced senses told him what he needed to know, alerting him to the increase in heartbeat, respiration, and hormone level. He could smell the musk, different than physical sweat, and he could feel the want, the lust.

Detecting those things also increased his own awareness of them to the point where he could not ignore his own arousal. Without a word to the affirmative or negative, Rhade looked down at his arms and removed the first thing he would normally remove before having sex. His gauntlets. The bone blades looked bare, unprotected, but they were as strong as any animal's horn, stronger than any bone in his body. He reached down and grabbed his t-shirt, lifting it up and over his head, dropping it behind him. His shorts soon followed, revealing his own state of arousal to Dylan.

His cock, fully hard and throbbing, was stimulated by the cooling air so it bobbed in reaction. Dylan looked at him, at it, with telling interest, and reached out, touching only the head with a fingertip caress. Rhade inhaled sharply through his nose and Dylan paused...though his fingertips kept moving.

"Second thoughts, Rhade?"

Dylan's question was fair, but a little late in asking. Someone had once said that once a decision was made, it was made immediately. All the time taken to make the decision was simply a cover for arguing the hard decisions or reinforcing the easier ones.

Rhade had made up his mind or he wouldn't have allowed Dylan to touch him, never mind taking the lead. What his decision really involved was whether or not to accept that what Dylan wanted wasn't necessarily the same as what Rhade wanted. It wasn't a question of trusting Dylan to save his life or make decisions for the common good. This was a question of emotional need, as well as Dylan's rather dubious choices where that was concerned. Because that frustrated Rhade so much, it became his reason for hesitating, for checking his decision.

"I need an answer," Dylan reminded him, his fingers still on the head of his cock, rubbing exquisite circles on the sensitive skin.

"No," Rhade answered, his fists clenching as he withheld his desire to grab and touch.

Dylan noticed, as he noticed everything. "Holding back then?"

"You could say that," Rhade answered. "If I didn't, I could hurt you. I don't want to do that."

A hint of a smile from the man in front of him. "Perhaps it's more straight-forward than that," he said, and moved in front of him.

"Clarify," Rhade asked, puzzled.

"You like this," Dylan said. "Allowing yourself to be teased, to have the pleasure drawn out of you, like removing a poison."

Rhade barked out a laugh, and the movement of his body slid his cockhead down the circling fingers and across the palm. He hissed in reaction. "Interesting postulation," he managed.

"Isn't it? I don't mind it, either. In fact," Dylan said soothingly...seductively, "I like it a lot."

"Is that so?" Rhade asked, suddenly aware of the wall behind him, cold against his skin. When had he backed up?

"Don't you like it?" Dylan asked, teasing with words as well as his fingers.

"Yes, but--"

"I think I'd like to tease pleasure out of you. I think I'd like that a lot. And I won't even use my hands." He pulled his hand away and stood there, two feet from Rhade, a small, devilish smile altering his face.

"That will be difficult to achieve with me," Rhade told him, returning the smile with something mocking.

"Ah yes, you'll need tactile."

Rhade frowned, wondering how Dylan had discerned that, but the frown soon changed to shocked lust when Dylan slowly dropped to his knees, hands braced on the wall at either side of Rhade's upper thighs. He was so close to his cock and this was a position Rhade had never allowed himself to fantasize about. Ever. Some images were addictive and that would have been one of them. As it was now. Rhade suddenly knew that this image was burned forever in his mind, and would feature quite prominently in his onanism for some time to come.

"Dylan..." He wanted to ask what he thought he was doing, but that was obvious.

"Let's see if you can't respond to this," Dylan told him sternly, face suddenly serious, almost angry, and his tongue slid stiffly from his mouth and circled the tip over his cockhead. Rhade's jaw worked as he ground his teeth, trying not to respond, but as he watched Dylan's tongue move over him, felt the spikes of pleasure dance through his balls, what got him was watching Dylan lick his lips, widen his mouth, and lean in to surround the head. Wet heat startled his nerves and a moving wet tongue made them scream. When Dylan sucked, pulling his lips back over the head to kiss the tip and lick at the pre-come-filled slit, Rhade hissed between clenched teeth, body held stiffly as he fought off the urge to tremble and shake.

"I'd call that a response," Dylan said smugly. "Let's see what you do with this." Opening his mouth, he took in the head, sucking and licking rapidly, then moved down the shaft, taking in half of Rhade's cock before pulling back to the ridge.

Rhade wasn't moving, wasn't making a sound, but his fingernails were scratching at the wall.

Dylan slowly moved back down the shaft--and made a growling sound.

Rhade's legs twitched violently and his head slammed back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut. He may have succeeded in saying nothing out loud but his mind was screaming, Fuck Yes!.

Just as sudden as the vibration had been on him, so was the sudden pumping back and forth as Dylan had him fucking his mouth. Rhade's control was laboring and it was a matter of honor to risk opening his eyes to watch, willing himself that he wouldn't come. When his eyes caught the motion, then Dylan's eyes locked on his face, he bit his lip and cut off the groan that sat at the back of his throat.

Dylan actually smiled around his cock, pulled back, and let it drop from his mouth. Without a word, he stood--straight up, body barely touching Rhade's until their cocks met and bumped. "So sexy," Dylan murmured, then moved away, stepping into the shower. When Rhade couldn't make himself move yet, Dylan asked, "Are you going to join me, Rhade?"

He looked over and watched Dylan push back his wet hair and Rhade's eyes traveled down, taking in the all-over wet look. The man was gorgeous, he admitted, although that had never been a question.

"Rhade, don't make me come get you."

The tone was commanding, and for an instant, Rhade rebelled. Nietzschean pride or just male pride forced him to resist. If they'd been doing this seduction scene for a while, Rhade wouldn't have had a problem, but this was...their first time. New things, strange things, and feelings he wasn't used to, were being made to war inside him. He wanted to resist that too, and just be contrary in every way.

"Try again," he growled.

Dylan surprised him with a gentle laugh. "Would it help if I pretended you're here to wash my back?"

"No," Rhade answered quickly, the need to rebel diminishing quickly against his other long-deprived needs. "No pretending of any kind," he added, forcing a tiny smile he hoped to feel any minute now, but humor or kindness was far from his mind. He stepped through the door to stand in front of his... friend? Probably not. Commander, then.

Dylan reached over his shoulder and shut the door, then startled Rhade again by pulling him into his arms and kissing him, tongue pushing into his mouth with demanding efficiency. Hands ran over his skin, learning the contours of muscle and bone, exciting his body to respond and Rhade responded. He fought off his own need to exert dominance and accepted whatever Dylan gave him. He wasn't used to such feelings inside the 'bedroom' but he was well acquainted with them outside. May as well bring himself balance, he mused wryly. A strong, confident hand circled his cock and the contact with his skin had him tingling, reinforcing that decision.

When Dylan broke their kiss, he let out a short, breathy laugh. "Different but not so different," and Rhade was shocked by the caresses to his face that followed. As if Dylan was memorizing a face he wanted to know. Or relearning it. Rhade was suddenly afflicted with the desire to restate the obvious.

"I'm not Gaheris."

"No, you're definitely not Gaheris," Dylan replied, touching his open lips and bending to run his tongue between them. The act sent shivers down Rhade's spine, a condition he was fast becoming familiar with. "You're...Telemachus Rhade, out of Majoram, by Rhade, and... you taste so damn sweet." He followed words with example and kissed Rhade hard and deep, tongue mapping his own as if he wished to consume him.

A flare shot through Rhade's body and sensual hunger took over as his hands slid over the firm muscles of Dylan's back, finding his cock, gripping hard enough to leave bruises on both.

Dylan hissed and Rhade's mouth was attacked once more, sending bolts of pleasure through him, making him return kiss with fierce determination. Dylan's hands were firm and assured, slowly moving over Rhade's body, caressing his ass, his thighs, making him gasp as his nipples were twisted with painful sweetness.

Rhade loved the brutal way Dylan treated him, and loved it even more when his back was suddenly slammed into the wall, their groins grinding together along with their mouths and tongues. Yes. It was so good, and exactly what he wanted, what he needed. A loud moan of surprise came from his throat when Dylan stopped his delicious grinding to wrap his long fingers around Rhade's cock and stroke him hard and possessively.

Rhade returned the favor and Dylan pulled back, watching his face as his amazingly skilled hand pulled up and over and squeezed. It was fast and good and Rhade gave the caress back, wanting more. Dylan's free hand left his hip and slid behind, fingers teasing his cleft. Rhade heard and felt his own harsh breathing, his eyes reflecting his reaction to the feeling of fingers moving slowly and unerringly toward his entrance.

There was knowledge then, and it struck him as hard as Dylan's hand around his cock. He wanted Dylan's cock in place of his fingers, but he also wanted to feel his own cock buried deep inside this man, to watch him writhe and spit invective after invective as he begged to be fucked hard.

Which was exactly what Rhade knew would happen when Dylan fucked him.

Fuck me.

He wanted to say it, had to say it, yet when he did, it would establish their places where rank had not. It would not matter if Rhade fucked Dylan later on or not. Who went first was what mattered. The look in Dylan's eyes seemed to confirm it, and Rhade accepted the decision silently made between them; he had to give up control.

Dylan's rough touch suddenly gentled, moving slowly, teasingly, up the shaft of his cock. He kissed him lightly, smiling over his mouth, and Rhade returned it, then groaned deeply when Dylan's hand suddenly firmed and sped up. The sharp pleasure made him squirm, made him clench his teeth because it was too good.

Dylan's mouth was then at his ear, whispering vulgar questions, making Rhade give up more of his control as he writhed under the driving force of Dylan's hand. He abruptly pushed the man's hand off his cock and turned round, invitation made; he faced the corner and moved his feet away from the wall, bracing his hands on either side. Dylan kicked his legs wide apart while one hand reached underneath to roll his balls in his palm.

Yes, Rhade thought. Be hard, be thorough, take what you need.  No soft emotions, no love. That wasn't allowed, not right now.

His thoughts were pulled out of him as a hard bite was rendered at the back of his ear. Dylan had slicked his fingers and was probing him, pressing the sphincter, pushing inside. Rhade let out another hiss, knowing how tight it would be, but the fact of it was alarming. Dylan was suddenly nuzzling his neck, whispering words to soothe him, calm him down. They sounded loving. Goddamn it.

"I didn't know," he said, kissing his ear, his neck.

"How could you," Rhade managed, gasping as Dylan applied more slick oil and buried his fingers to the knuckle, turning them slowly. The burn was fucking amazing and Rhade forced his body to relax, to accept the invaders that tried to open him, ready him, stretch his acceptance as well as his muscles. When Dylan withdrew, one hand laid on Rhade's back, stroking gently with more soothing caresses.

Rhade knew what was coming and thought himself prepared when he felt the hot, blunt head push against him. It was nothing to the reality, nothing like those hard fingers, and when Dylan breached his barriers and slid in deep, Rhade was unable to stop the startled cry that shot from his throat.

He was on his knees suddenly, upper body resting on his forearms, hands splayed against the two walls. His forehead touched the wet surface of the floor and he felt the spatter of water from the shower. Like rain, he thought absently. Dylan lay half-draped over him, not moving, hands firmly gripping his waist, his hot breath misting his already-wet skin. Rhade could feel the wiry pubic hair against his ass and could also feel Dylan completely buried inside him.

It burned, but there was something else. A need for friction, to scratch the itch that screamed inside. He could sense that Dylan wanted to ask questions, but Rhade couldn't allow the time between them to be wasted on futile words. He felt the want and need boiling inside and words would only piss him off. The tremendous burn in his ass helped him keep focus, keep aware, and while he loved it, it couldn't remain.

He knew what and how he wanted this and he spread his knees wide, forcing a small, inadvertent thrust from Dylan, making him gasp. He lifted his head from the floor. "Fuck me."

Dylan muttered something over his spine, dotting his skin with kisses and bites just before he moved his hips. When that happened, and the feeling of heat increased, Rhade was lost, taken over by sensation. Thrusts were made with deep, even strokes, and a sudden coil of heat as hot as the sun and as keenly pleasure-inducing as an orgasm spread through his body like liquid fire. Rhade was now experiencing first hand what exactly his genetically enhanced gland was capable of and when the cry of pleasure erupted from his throat, Dylan altered his strokes accordingly.

Wave after wave of pleasure tingled his skin and still, Rhade needed more. "Give it to me, Dylan," he rasped and several hard bites were laid on his back, making him flinch. Fingers grabbed his shoulders, leaving small brands shaped like fingertips. Rhade knew he would stare at them for hours later.

Then came what he'd asked for:  simple, effective thrusts, brutal in their force, robbing coherence from Rhade's mind. He was no longer able to think or stop, diving deep into the pleasure as the continual shudders ripped through him. Words flew from his mouth, both profane and filled with promises, and Dylan matched him word for word. Their bodies created a feral, ancient rhythm and Rhade could feel it rising toward completion. One more thing to bring him there, bring them both there, and Dylan answered as if reading his mind.

His cock jerked at the rough, almost cruel touch and the acute pleasure made Rhade cry out again and again, embarrassment becoming irrelevant against the release he craved. He couldn't help but ask himself what the hell he'd been so damned worried about. All he had ever wanted was in this, this simple act, and Dylan was not only giving it to him with all he had, he was taking it, too.

His hand twisted now, pumping Rhade's cock as furiously as his hips, pushing him down, his free hand on the back of his neck. It was as clear as if he'd said it out loud. He was owned. A loud roar spilled from Rhade's throat as hard and heavy as his orgasm, with Dylan's hand squeezing his release each time he shot. And shot. And shot.

It did to Dylan what Rhade knew would have done to him, and Dylan was suddenly cursing loudly, yelling every epithet as he came inside his ass, the heat spilling over his gland sending riotous signals back to Rhade's cock. He twitched and jerked, spilling another, smaller, release onto the floor of the shower while Dylan continued to move, his thrusts pulling his own long orgasm from him like an interrogator with a prisoner. It was all Rhade could do to keep from whimpering at the wonderfully awful ache of it.

He wanted to do this again.

Dylan slumped bonelessly over his back and Rhade held him, supporting his weight on his forearms, supporting him; the sudden metaphor made him laugh and Dylan laid a lazy, questioning kiss on his back in response. He started to move again, his hands sliding over Rhade's body in long, soothing caresses. Like taming an animal, Rhade thought strangely.

Eventually, they got to their feet and finished the shower, hands running silkily over their skin and hair, cleaning, becoming a palliative to what they'd experienced.

Dylan asked if he wanted to do this again and Rhade thought it funny that he was even asking. "As often as you want," was his only answer. The man now owned him, completely and permanently, and Rhade found that he liked the idea, not just during the heat of lust.

As he dressed, a small voice whispered inside:  All this time, this was what you had to have.

Yes.  "I saw you there, I saw you then. The saddest words, 'What might have been.'"

They came back to Rhade like a sudden flood of memory. Beka's words, Gaheris' feelings. What had been taken away long ago had somehow been restored. What remained was what could be.

Hands were suddenly on his shorts, pushing them back down. "Who said you were going anywhere?"

~

Rhade stepped onto the bridge, aware that Beka's eyes were on him with suspicion. The woman had an uncanny instinct he wished would go away. He sensed her closing in, like a predator, and he slapped her hand away when she reached for his collar, eyeing the bite mark there that his uniform couldn't cover up completely.

"Excuse me, I was just curious. You know, one friend to another," she said sharply, but Rhade knew she pretended to be offended. Beka could have cared less about being his friend.

"You may appear to be friendly, but the look on your face doesn't appear to be in any way friendly. Take your concern to Harper."

"Hey, leave me out of it," Harper said from the comm, letting Rhade know he wasn't actually in the room.

"You are out of it, Harper, and get your ass to the bridge," Rhade said and hit the comm button, cutting him off before Harper could reply.

"My, my, aren't we in a bitchy mood," Beka teased, a sickeningly smug smile spreading across her face. "Only a Nietzschean would be in a bad mood after getting laid, so who was the lucky woman?"

He ignored her, focusing on the panel lights under his hands, reading the information on the data screen between them.

"C'mon, Rhade, share with me. I won't tell," she went on.

He rolled his eyes.

Rommie chose that moment to pass between them, her eyes sliding over his neck, vision focusing. "Who said it had to be a woman?"

Rhade grinned to himself, knowing damn well she'd just identified Dylan's teeth marks. He was surprised to find that he actually liked her; he'd never gotten along with AI's before. But he preferred her presence, and Trance's, over everyone else. Like Trance, Rommie didn't pretend. She was who she was and her usual bland sarcasm was always refreshing.

Glancing to his left, he found Beka gaping at Rommie's words. It amused him and he felt a small moment of victory against her constant barbs. She leered at him next, which he expected, and with a sigh, prepared himself for a round of teasing that he'd have to swallow or risk forcing Dylan to reprimand him.

Beka opened her mouth to spit out the venom but Harper entered the bridge at that moment, interrupting her by the singing of some obscure song no one knew.

"Harper," Rommie greeted.

"Rommie," Harper replied, his curiosity now raised as he looked around. "Why does everyone look like they got into Dylan's underwear drawer?"

Rhade quickly stifled the cough that threatened while Beka's leer now focused on Harper. "How do you know he has an underwear drawer?"

"Everyone does, don't they?" Harper quickly deflected.

Rhade was not saying a word.

"I don't," Beka answered. "So again, Seamus, how do you know?"

"Not telling you, boss, so forget it."

"Harper, if you--"

"Hello, Rhade," Harper said, cutting her off, "And may I say, from the kindness of my heart, you're a bitch."

Rhade grinned and looked away. He liked Harper, too.

"Did you get laid or something?" he asked.

Rhade's grin almost disappeared when Beka returned her focus on him. He still liked Harper, even if he was an annoying little shit who noticed too many things at the wrong times. Unfortunately, Harper's attention on Rhade's arm switched to his neck.

"Cut yourself shaving?"

"That's very funny," Rhade said, flashing a fake smile.

Harper waved his datapad at him. "Did you know you look like a shark when you do that?"

"No, but thank you for the compliment."

"I'm surprised he knew what a shark was," Beka muttered, then said more loudly, "For that matter, I'm worried about you, Harper. You're usually more accurate than that. Rhade's teeth are so small, you should've said ferret instead."

"They still have ferrets?" Harper asked distractedly.

Beka gave Rhade a malicious grin which he decided to return, teeth bared. "Yesterday I was a black panther, and today I'm first a shark, then a ferret. Not bad, as choices go, so thank you."

"Except that ferrets can get stepped on," Harper said with that sarcastic grin of his.

Rhade rounded his console and Harper immediately ran behind Trance, who gave him a reproachful look. Rhade had no intention of pursuing, of course, but it was always fun to let Harper think so. One of these days, however, he wouldn't be faking.

"Careful, Harper," Beka said, "Rhade's been having fun. You just might end up as dessert," and she grinned at Harper's look of disdain.

"You're very funny, Beka."

"I thought so."

Trance grinned softly, a smile meant for Rhade. "Is it love?" she asked quietly.

Surprised, Rhade stared at her. There was no way in hell he would answer that and she knew it, too, so obviously Trance was having a little fun with him. Rhade issued a growl in his throat, indicating his displeasure, and refocused his attention on the console in front of him. He looked up at Trance a few seconds later, finding her glancing at him sideways, smiling to herself.

A long, silent minute later, Dylan entered the bridge and sat down, his eyes on his crew.

"Okay, what's goin' on?"

"Nothing, boss," Harper replied, "except that Rhade's in love, just got laid and is keeping us in suspense on the identity of this poor woman."

Rhade smirked at the tone. This actually amused him.

Dylan ignored the jibe, however, and without looking, asked Rhade, "Anything you want to tell me?"

"I can fill you in on the details later," Rhade answered.

"I look forward to it."

As Dylan ordered Andromeda's move into slipstream, no one but Trance and Rommie caught the quick exchange between the Captain and his Third-in-Command, and for that, Rhade was immensely relieved.

~

End