Disclaimer:  Crusade concept and characters belong to their creators and production company.   The following story is exclusive property of the author; no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: PG-14.

One Step at a Time

© 1999, Jo Taylor

She awoke in terror.  Heart pounding, breathing laboured her adrenaline levels were shooting through the roof.  The tangle of bedclothes restricting her legs only increased the sense of panic that threatened to engulf her.

Maybe she cried out, she didn't know, but the lights suddenly sprang to life revealing the familiar territory of her own quarters.  Shaking, as though with delayed shock, Dureena threw aside the sheet and headed into her bathroom.  The face staring back at her from the small mirror seemed that of a stranger.  A face bleached almost white by the unforgiving glare of the artificial lights, her eyes wide in a remembrance of terrors thought long past.  She had believed the nightmares over; how stupid can you get.

Memories like that never left you.

The last one had been, how long ago -- five, six years?  And nothing like the intensity of the dream that had torn her from sleep tonight.  What the hell had started them again?

"Don't ask stupid questions, Dureena," she chided herself out loud.  "You know damn well what the answer is."  And she did.

This last mission to yet another dead world, had been one of the most dangerous they had undertaken.  A scan of the planet had shown no signs of any higher life forms.  A few indigenous small animals, nothing bigger than a rodent, teeming insect population and a few aquatic life forms that populated the small oceans.  But the infrastructure of the planet itself was incredibly unstable.  Impact craters pockmarked the surface; a few were large enough to have seriously destabilised the rotational axis causing mass floods, earthquakes and who knew what else.  At least, that was the theory Gideon had come up with for the abandoned ruins that littered the surface.  As it was, tremors shook the surface at irregular intervals.  Mild though they were, it would add an element of danger that they could well have lived without.

Max and his team had gone ahead, checking sites and making recommendations for further exploration, and finally deciding on a city that appeared to have taken fewer harms than the others.  Arriving close to sundown, the crew had quickly set up a camp outside the largest building.  Within its crumbling walls Max had discovered what he hoped would be a depository of texts.  In an inner chamber, he had found containers stacked ten high.  Their material totally unknown and, so far, impervious to his attempts at opening them.  Reluctant to use force, he had begrudgingly requested her help.

They had proved a tricky, though not insurmountable problem for her skills.  And she had been delighted at his chagrin when, ten minutes after arriving she had unlocked the first box for him.  Shoving her unceremoniously out of his way, Max had gently lifted the lid, then swore long and hard.  The box had been empty of all save a crumbled mess of what could have been material documents.  For the next hour she had opened container after container, all were empty until they reached the bottom layer.  By now, even Max's incurable curiosity had waned, and her own patience was wearing thin.  So, when the last few containers actually held papers, covered in close textural script, she was less than excited.  With Max cooing over the discovery and wrestling with the problem of transporting the fragile contents, she decided to explore a little.

The sun would soon rise on this new world; she needed to shake the dust from her feet and revel in some solitude.  With just a word of caution, to which she paid no heed, Gideon waved her off as he peered over Max's shoulder, much to the archaeologists disgust.

She had been high upon a ledge overlooking the outskirts of the city, maybe two miles from the rest of the party, when the tremor hit.  The building she occupied and those around it began to shake.  Dust rose in a dense cloud as she hurried from her perch, anxious to reach ground level and get away from the possible collapse.  Her speed and agility proved no help this time, a sudden wave of motion started under her running feet and then she was falling.  Hands scrabbled desperately at the sheer surface, looking for purchase, any way to stop her terrifying descent.  She screamed as her body crashed into the wall, her cry lost in the rumble of falling masonry and tearing earth.

Where he had come from she had no idea, one minute she was tumbling into oblivion, debris raining down at a frightening speed, threatening to swamp her and then he had been there.  His body colliding with hers, pushing her out of the way of a large chunk flying directly at them.  His body, pressing hers to the ground, was heavy, constricting.  Yes, she knew who he was, yes, she knew he would not harm her, but every instinct within her screamed fight!  And, even though by her actions she might kill them both, the memories of her enslavement, of deeds done to her all those years ago, rose to the fore of her brain and she went berserk.  And then all was blackness.

She swam back into consciousness to find his hands roaming across her body.  Anger and fear catapulted her into action.  Trying to push herself up from the floor, she was summarily shoved back down again.

"Lay still, I want to make sure you aren't hurt.  Though by the way you were struggling back there I doubt there's anything more than cuts and bruises."  Galen's tone was light yet insistent, and finally cut through the fog that clouded her brain.  She submitted herself to his quick and impersonal examination, flinching occasionally as he touched a tender area.  But when he reached her ankle the pain that shot through her came as a surprise to them both.  Now that her adrenaline levels were subsiding, the pain became worse, spiralling its way up her leg and seemingly setting off every nerve across her body.

"Broken.  You were lucky."  He bent down as though to pick her up, but she pushed him away.

"Just give me a hand up; I don't need to be carried like a baby."  She knew it was foolish, but the thought of being held helpless in his arms set off every warning bell she possessed.  "Give me your arm."

The thinned lips and frown now adorning his face showed just what he thought of her decision, but he held out his hand and pulled her up, steadying her.

"Put your arm around me then, and let me take the weight."

Reluctantly her arm slid around him, her hand on his shoulder, his wrapped around her waist.  Delayed reaction left her trembling and cold.  His arm about her tightened as she stumbled from the after affects of her near death experience.  With Dureena taking up one hand and his staff in the other, Galen's progress was slow.  Rubble littered their way; aftershocks sent more fragments flying down on them.  Finally, his patience seemed to leave him: with a brief "Here, hold this," he thrust his staff into her hand and swept her up in his arms, ignoring the protests and curses thrown at him.

She had to admit that they reached his flyer much quicker than had she continued to burden him as before, but the journey was a nightmare.  Tension kept her rigid in his careful embrace.  Maybe he felt her fear, or believed he was increasing her discomfort; whatever the cause she was grateful for his almost silent passage.  Apart from one question as to the pain she was feeling, he had kept his own counsel.

Surprisingly, she did not use the one thing that could have made him release his hold, the staff.  She could have thrown it down some chasm as they passed, she could have threatened to damage it in some way, and yet she did not.  This was the second time she had held the instrument in her hands, but now it was alive, or so it seemed.  It emitted a subtle warmth, almost like touching flesh and, when he finally released her and reclaimed his property, she felt a vague reluctance to release it back into his custody.

"I'll just check on the others, communications are down but Matheson gave me their co-ordinates."  He rummaged around briefly and came back to her with a hypospray in his hand.  "For the pain," he explained, seeing her look askance at the instrument.

Its effects were almost immediate; the agonising waves subsided being supplanted by a euphoria that left her almost light headed.  "Wow.  Is the room supposed to go round?"

"Just lay down, relax, and don't touch anything.  I would hate to return to find a corpse on my floor.  It would make the place so very untidy."  He must have seen her drug induced smile; she could certainly feel it, though she had no control over her face's antics.  "I mean it, Dureena, my ship will defend itself.  Do.  Not.  Touch.  Anything!"

And she hadn't.  Sleep or whatever had been in the hypospray had claimed her.  She wouldn't put it past Galen to ensure his ships safety by putting her out of action for a few hours.

Her next waking memory was of Doctor Chambers looking down at her in the medical facility as she put the final touches to her strapped leg.

"Hi there, welcome back.  You had everyone quite worried you know.  You're a bit battered but that will heal.  The break in your ankle was a clean one, thankfully.  I've knit the bone together for you, but you'll have to take it easy for a while."

"The others?"

"Everyone is okay, just a few cuts and bruises.  They managed to get out in the open before the building collapsed.  They spent the last two hours digging out the containers Max found."

"And Galen?"

"Haven't seen him since he brought you in."

She could see the question in Sarah's eye, but she would not, could not answer anything right now.

"Can I go?"

The good doctor seemed un-surprised at her need to be out of the infirmary.  Dureena had never been comfortable in the facility.  So with just a few words of caution, a pile of pills for the pain and a stick to help her walk she finally reached her own room and shut the world out.  She needed time to think.  No, maybe it's best not to think.

That had been a week ago.  And in that time, she had done her level best to avoid Galen, hoping that sooner rather than later he would leave the Excalibur on one of his frequent trips.  If he entered a room she would leave, if she saw him in a corridor she would turn down the next one.  That he was aware of her avoidance she knew, catching the curious, almost hurt look that he sent her way.  She had never been one to avoid personal confrontation, until now -- until he had become part of her life.  And now here she was, nightmares wracking her sleep again.

Everyone had noticed the apparent rift between thief and mage.  Gideon had even asked what was wrong, but she had made up a plausible story.  She liked Matthew, he meant well, but this was outside his abilities to help.

The humans would have used a, what was the word?  Psychologist, that was it: a counselor, someone to tell their troubles to.  But did she trust anyone enough to part with this secret terror?

It must have been nearly three in the morning -- not that night and day held much sway out here in the stars.  The crew were less active at night, the scientists, researchers and manual workers tended to be at their respective posts during the "daytime" and so she was pretty sure that the corridors would be free of major traffic.  Right now what she needed most was solitude -- but not here, not where she might be tempted to let sleep claim her again.

Soon after joining the Excalibur at Mars, she had explored every inch of the great ship, prow to stern.  Searched out the small spaces, the areas where no one ever went.  Her favourite, high above the command area, tucked away from the main corridors was a small observation port.  The room was not marked and it had only been her inquisitiveness and the locked door that made her want entry in the first place.  It was small; maybe three metres across, three walls and the ceiling were made of clear materials, giving the occupier a feeling of almost floating amongst the stars.  It was there she headed now, to lose herself in the empty reaches of space.

In the darkness, she did not see his shrouded, motionless form.  The jet black of his hood and coat left him as just another shadow in the gloom.  With her eyes firmly fixed on the planet below, his voice from the darkness shocked her system into an instinctive defensive pose.

"So, you come here too."  He removed his hood, and the faint glow of starlight illuminated his face, casting angles and shadows that made him look harsh and forbidding.  "It's the most peaceful place on the ship, don't you think?"  But he was not looking at her now; his gaze rested on the tapestry of stars that surrounded them.

She began to back pedal toward the door, not wishing to be alone with him, not now, not until she could face him with some equanimity.  All her life she had been independent, relying on no other person to see her through bad times, had battled every fear from a position of solitude.  The incident on the planet had badly shaken her autonomy, and though the others may not have noticed the difference, she had a feeling Galen could see right through her.  It scared her; he scared her.

"Don't leave.  Please."  And he finally turned toward her, adding the force of his personality to the power of his voice.  "What have I done, Dureena?"  He waited a heartbeat.  "What have I done?"

The genuine puzzlement in his tone finally stopped her retreat, though she made no effort to move toward him.  Instead, she headed to the farthest side of the room.  With her forehead almost touching the glass, she could fancy herself adrift in the blackness around them.

"For someone who likes small spaces I'm surprised to find you here."  He waited a moment, but she would not answer.  He continued, "I find the enormous emptiness very sobering, reminds me just what my status is in the grand scheme of things.  I'm not nearly as vital a component as I like to think I am."

His confession, though lightly given, sat at odds with the man she had come to know.  Self confidence normally radiated from him like an energy field.  He always had an answer, was seldom wrong -- it was unnerving.  And here he was, admitting that he was not the centre of the Universe after all!

"Dureena, what have I done?"

The power of his voice was such that she felt a need to answer.  "It's not you, not really.  It's. . ."  She did not know how to explain the terrors to someone who feared little, and expected much.

She heard him move and tensed, but he had only shifted around to see her better and she made a conscious effort to relax.  He said nothing, his silence an invitation to confidences she did not want to give.  But his patience overcame her reluctance.

"The past, my personal demons.  Nightmares.  Things you can do nothing about."

"But I brought them back, somehow?  Yes, I see I did.  Will you tell me how?"

Could she tell him?  Could she explain that the attraction she felt for him was part and parcel of the problem?  On the outside she presented a pretty aggressive approach to the Mage; she had told herself she didn't care, was not caught by his magnetism.  And then she had retrieved his staff, had seen something in his eyes when she returned it to him, something that seemed so vulnerable.  It touched her, opened the door a little, and look what happened!

"Did the Captain tell you what happened on Praxis 9 last month?  No, well. . ."  She hesitated.  "I suppose what happened there brought back feelings I could have lived without reviving."  She crossed her arms defensively, aware of his calm gaze resting on her.

"When I was ten, my family was in serious trouble.  Debts had mounted; collectors had taken everything we had.  If they didn't pay then their lives would be forfeit.  Slavery is legal in my part of the galaxy; my parents sold me to a member of the Thieves Guild, to be trained in the fine art of appropriation and all skills pertaining to it.  An old an honourable profession."

"And you are a fine example of the expertise to be achieved.  Probably the best I have come across."

"Don't sneer at me, Galen.  I had no choice in who and what I was to become."

"The compliment was sincere, Dureena.  You are the best lock pick I have ever encountered!"

"Well. . ."  She turned her mind back to her narrative.  " At that age, I was nothing but a scrawny, unkempt kid.  I learned my craft, learned that my master's whip was something to be feared.  How to scavenge for food.  I slept in filth and consorted with filth.  Then, as I got older, filled out a bit, my owner decided that he should add another string to my bow, something I could fall back on if times were hard."

She waited for one of his caustic comments, but he held his peace, waited for her to continue.

"I learnt that lesson too, that I was nothing to any man but some piece of meat to use and abuse.  That pain was all I could expect from any man.  I lived in terror for months.  But I learned to defend myself, I stole a knife, killed the man who had put me to this."  He would have stopped her then, but she waved away his concern.  "They caught me, put me in a cell with ten others.  I was paraded on a block, like an animal to be sold to the highest bidder.  Sometimes, I can still feel the chains on my wrists.  And I could see in their eyes what they wanted me for.  I vowed I would never, ever go through that again.  The man who bought me didn't make it past the airlock.  I still had the knife, you see.  I and the four others he had bought made about five clicks into the wasteland.  A flyer came after us, fired on us, and killed my companions.  I don't know how I survived the attack.  I made it back to the space port, bummed a lift from a trader and got as far from Praxis 9 as I could."

She turned and faced him again.  "When I felt you on top of me. . ."

"I am so sorry, Dureena.  If there was any way I could undo what I have done."

A tear escaped; she wiped it away quickly.  Galen never apologised, for anything.  It appeared his defences were down tonight, as were her own.  Normally, he was as aggressively defensive about his emotional privacy as was she, and yet she heard the truth in his words.

"You know what the irony of it all is?  I have spent months speculating about you, Galen.   What makes you tick, who you are.  Wondering what it might be like, to be with someone like you.  But all I can remember is the pain; I can't get past the fear.  If you tried to touch me, even if I wanted you to, I would probably try to kill you."  She gave a watery sniffle.  "Nothing personal."

He smiled gently at her attempt at humour.  The turgid feeling of heavy emotions lifted for a moment.

"Thank you, for letting me in."  He paused as though gathering his thoughts, or maybe rehearsing what he wanted to say.  "I have found myself . . . attracted to you also.  It's not easy for one of my order to. . ."  His voice trailed off.  "Maybe we can work our way through this?  It won't be easy, for either of us.  But whatever happens, I want you to know I would never hurt you.  Don't fear me, Dureena."

Did she trust him?  Had he not proved that he was a man of his word?  He would do what he had to, consequences be damned, but he was a staunch ally.  She took a small step toward him, then another until they were almost touching.  Reaching out she let her fingers gently stroke his face, memorising its contours, the feel of it under her hand.  He did not move, made no attempt to return the caress, just let her continue her exploration unhindered.

Taking her courage in both hands, she gazed up at him, suddenly needing the touch of another body, his body.  "Galen, would you hold me, please?"

The smile that lit his face echoed within her.  "Are you armed?" he asked softly.

"Always."

"Well, I'm feeling particularly brave for some reason."

She moved forward into his embrace, waiting to see how her body would react to his presence.  A mild flutter started deep within her; he must have felt it, for he loosened his hold slightly.  "Are you okay?"  She snuggled closer, refusing to let her terror win.  She had faced down every other fear, and won.  This would be no different.  He was someone worth fighting her demons for.

"One step at a time," he whispered, pulling her closer.

the end

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