It's All Right
Disclaimers: All things Andromeda belong to the estate of Gene Roddenberry.
It's all right. It has to be, right? I mean, look at everything the big guy's survived. His entire pride was destroyed, and Tyr Anasazi survived. He lived for years as a mercenary, fought Nightsiders, Magog, every damn thing you could possibly imagine, and he's still here. He is still here, right, Romdoll?
Harper seemingly vibrated in place, standing off to one side, out of the way, in the medical bay, watching as Trance worked desperately to keep Beka and Tyr alive. Somehow they'd survived long enough for the Maru to get them back to the Andromeda, but no one knew how. The explosion should have killed them, had injured them horribly, and now all Harper could do was wait.
"Trance and Rommy are very good, Mr. Harper," Dylan said, though which of them he was attempting to comfort was open to debate. "I'm sure Beka will be fine." He shot another glance over to where the blond first officer lay on one of the beds, her burns healed but the internal injuries still in question.
Harper shot a wild glance at the captain. "What about Tyr?" he demanded, his voice choked, the frantic blue eyes immediately turning back to the Nietzschean as if only his gaze could keep him alive.
"Tyr... is a survivor," Dylan replied carefully, taken aback by what he thought he'd seen in the depths of Harper's eyes.
"He has to be," Harper said hoarsely, then his eyes widened as Tyr's head rolled slightly to one side, the heavy lids rising so that the brown gaze could fix on him.
"Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa will not die today, little professor." The words exhausted his minimal stores of energy, and Tyr passed into unconsciousness again, but it was enough.
Harper smiled. It was all right.