See Part One for Disclaimers

For the next couple of days, Galen haunted the ship.  His concentration erratic, he was tired; weary in a way that worried him.  It was too soon.  At times, he had overheard the crew wonder at his long stay.  But he could not leave, not yet, not without speaking to her.  Every time she saw him, she ran, made an excuse, changed her route.  It was so obvious that people were talking.  Things finally came to a head a week after the accident.

Sharing a meal with Matthew in the mess hall, he was startled by the sudden expletive and thud of his hand hitting the table.  Looking up quickly he turned and followed his fixed stare at the empty doorway.

"Okay, enough.  What is the problem with you and Dureena?!  She took one look at your back and was out of here like a scalded cat."

He leant back in his chair, doing his best to calm the sudden emotional tide rising through him.  "Nothing is wrong between Dureena and I."

"Crap.  I can't be the only one to have noticed she is avoiding you like you contracted the Black Death or something.  And you!  You look as though your puppy just died every time she does it.  So, what is the problem?"

"I assure you, I never had a puppy."

"Why am I not surprised?"  He hesitated a moment, "Look, Galen, I consider you both my friends, if I can help in any way?"

Galen's face remained stonily forbidding.

Gideon flung up his hands in disgust.  "Maybe I should get John to scan you," he threatened, half-heartedly.

"Waste of time.  He couldn't."  The emphatic tone brought a curious light to Gideon's eye.  Before the captain could pursue it, he continued, lowering his voice to a barely heard whisper, as by now their contretemps had attracted some attention.  "I don't know what is wrong, Matthew.  I wish I did.  Something happened down on the planet and she doesn't want to talk about it.  We all have our secrets, I respect her wish not to confide in me.  I just wish . . ." He dropped his mask for a moment, "I don't like to see her this way."  Concern evident in the hushed confession.

Gideon's raised brows and open mouth were indicative of the surprise Galen's words had engendered, but he recovered quickly.

"Shall I talk to her?"

Galen's face adopted a cynical expression beyond his ability to prevent.  "Good luck, my friend."  Rising quickly, he effectively cut off any other questions.  He had said too much already.  He hoped the vague reference to Matheson's ability would be forgotten.  Right now, he needed to think.  It was about time he left the Excalibur.  He needed to go home.

Tomorrow, he would leave tomorrow.

Sleep eluded him; try as he might Morpheus would not visit.  Rising, he dressed quickly and left his flyer, making his way through deserted corridors and empty transport tubes until he reached the room he had ear marked.

Surrounded by the stars he let the weariness take hold and let go of his emotional bindings.  Here he could relax and just "be."

His thoughts, as so often of late, eventually shifted to the woman whose tiny frame he could still feel in his arms.  He found that he could recall every meeting, every word they had ever exchanged from her initial distrust of him, to her begrudging realisation that his motives were not always selfish.  One day he would explain what happened at the Well, and why.

And then she had retrieved his staff.  An act so giving, so unselfish he had not known how to react or what to say.  He had held her eyes captive for a moment, and yes, then, then he had first realised she was more to him than a companion on this journey.

Loneliness wrapped around him.  He missed the give and take of someone else's company, having another being to share ideas with.  To take comfort from and give comfort to.  A mage's life is solitary, and yet he had always craved companionship.  Could he have that with someone who was not a member of his order?  His father had, but he had left to start a new life, leaving behind his technomancy.  Galen was not ready to abandon his learning yet.

A soft sound alerted him to someone's arrival.  She trod with unconscious grace across the floor to the window farthest from him.  For a brief moment, he hesitated, should he speak?  What could he say?  He had wanted this moment since leaving her in Med Lab, and now he was without words.

"So, you come here too."  It was the best he could come up with.  Dureena's sudden appearance whilst his mind had been transfixed on her had been a jolt to his system.  As he continued, she started back to the door.  Fear visible on her face again.

At his plea, she stopped her retreat and, after further puzzled inquiries, she finally turned back into the room, though as far from him as she could.  Three times, he asked her what he had done.  Eventually his silence drew forth the answers his questions could not.

Her husky voice was low, yet he heard every word resound in him with terrible clarity.  Her life, her childhood had been terrible.  Slavery!  He abhorred the practice, the degradation of body and spirit, the forceful taking of her body time and again.  He could imagine all that she had not related, and ached to gather her close.  Though, that would be the last thing to ease this pain.  And yet she had survived, until his unintentional reminder of all that had been forgotten.

He could only apologise, something he had only done once before and that time too late to matter.  Not this time though.  Her look of surprise told him he was right to admit blame.

Her confession of attraction stunned him, and for a heartbeat, he did not know how to respond.  Should he admit his own attraction or remain isolated?  Open his heart to another or remain locked behind his emotion barricades?  Life or solitude?  It would be difficult, he would have to introduce her to some at least of his technomancy, and he would need her to leave the anger behind.

His own confession elicited as much surprise as hers had, and yet she took that step toward him that only she could take.  When she was close enough to touch he felt every molecule within him scream to take her in his arms, yet he resisted.  This had to be her choice or it was no choice at all.  And when she finally slid into his embrace and his arms enfolded her he felt a peace descend on him that he had thought unobtainable.  She trembled against him, but on inquiry, she wriggled closer, holding him tightly until the tremors subsided.

His tiredness forgotten for now, they stood within one another's arms embraced by the darkness and a sense of well being.  They would take this one step at a time.

the end

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