Title: The Angel Of Death.

Author: Erika

Fandom: Andromeda

Pairing: Dylan Hunt/ Tyr Anasazi

Rating: Slash

Disc: yadda, yadda, yadda ... I am a poor student who does not know any better. Anyway, it's all your fault. You can't create a character like Tyr, have him prancing around in that see through metal tank top and expect me not to slash him ... like honestly ...
"You tell'um sister!"

/LOL. Now and then, I wonder how the heck I attract such weird but lovely betas./

Summary: May contain Spoilers. Takes place at the end of the episode: Angel Dark, Demon Bright.

Beta readers: Or in this case could also be referred to as my victims: Voyuerer, who enthusiastically signed up for the slaughter. And Lady Bard, who probably should have known better.

By Erika

Dylan paused by the closed door. Tyr was inside probably gazing out toward the stars. As a child the stars had held so much promise. Their sparkle had conquered the heart of a naive boy that after the events of today, no longer existed. As the door to the foyer opened, allowing him entrance, he saw Tyr sitting crossed legged on the marvel bench, eyes closed, deep in meditation.

He stopped a few feet away from the young Nietzchean and waited for Tyr to acknowledge him. "I wish there had been another way," Dylan found himself saying.

Tyr snorted. "Guilt is a wasted emotion," he said, as though repeating a proverb he had once learned. The Nietzchean then tilted his head to the side and smiled ironically up at Dylan, "So I keep telling myself." He stopped and his jaw clenched tight. Sitting there, meditating, he desperately tried to fight the turmoil raging within him. The turmoil that demanded answers. That demanded action. That screamed one word, /Vengeance./

"You blame yourself for what happened?" Dylan asked knowingly, correctly interpreting Tyr's body language.

"I didn't say that," Tyr quickly interrupted him.

Hunt looked at him. Didn't he know? Couldn't Tyr feel the emotions he was displaying so close to the surface?

"... but I could have sabotaged the Andromeda ... I could have killed us all and saved 100,000 Nietzchean lives." Tyr tried to explain. His voice was filled with emotion, heavy with regret, conveying the pain the young warrior felt for his lack of action against the enemy of his people, of his race. "I didn't do it."

Those words more than anything else, helped Dylan understand what the young man in front of him was going through. Hadn't he been wrestling with these same issues only seconds before?/Yes, but you did act,/ his conscience screamed at him in reminder to what he had done.

"No." Hunt found himself agreeing with Tyr, looking at a distant point, keeping his own feelings in check. The guilt tearing him up inside, threatened to overcome whatever control he had maintain these past few hours. "You didn't," Dylan told him hoping those words would offer some comfort. The young captain tried to ignored as his conscience silently scream, / But you did./ He had put the lives of his crew, his future above the lives of the Nietzcheans. He had slaughtered a people. He had slaughtered ....

"I let my own need for survival out weigh the fate ..." Tyr paused, unconsciously echoing the very words Dylan was using to judge himself. "Of an entire people." The young warrior sitting on the marble bench found himself swallowing quickly, trying to control the alien emotions he had never experience before this moment. His eyes brightened and he swallowed again. He would not cry. Warriors did not cry. Nietzcheans did not shed tears. He was the last of the Kodiak Pride, and he would not dishonour them by showing weakness. Especially in front of the enemy.

Dylan moved closer to the young troubled man and sat next to him. "That is a very Nietzchean thing to do," he assured him.

Tyr, who had been staring blindly in front of him snorted again, and smiled briefly at the irony behind those words. "Yes it is." He turned to Dylan, tears finally forming. "Isn't it?"

He was like a child asking for guidance and approval, Dylan thought. A child whose dreams had been shattered again and again, and now found that they needed to fight on the side of those who had destroyed his people. What could he say? How could he reassure him, that those deaths had to take place?

"Maybe on some level ... you and I ... what we did was somehow necessary and right."

"Dylan," Tyr asked him as a tear finally escaped its confines and the pain he had been holding back from watchful eyes came through. "Do you really believe that?"

Hunt looked at him, wanting to take away the doubt that oozed through the young man. But even in these turbulent times a part of him wondered, /When did my actions ... opinions matter so much to the young warrior, and why didn't I notice it sooner?/

"I have to," he confessed, showing the young Nietzchean his own regret. Soon they both stared out toward the stars allowing the calmness to soothe their battered souls.

They might have stayed like that for hours if Dylan hadn't reached out to touch the man beside him. He found the young Nietzchean turning his puzzle gaze toward him. What could he say? All day he had wanted to search for the young warrior and reassure himself that he had the other man's loyalty. Of all his makeshift crew members, Dylan had been most worried about Tyr's reaction and even in the middle of the horror they found themselves in, he found himself clinging to one thought, /Tyr had trusted him./

Time and time again the young Nietzchean had proven his loyalty to Dylan. He had chosen Dylan over his need to procreate with a female of his species, abandoning the hope of creating his own Pride. He had chosen Dylan over his own people. After the events of today, the young captain knew he needed this connection.

The Angel of Death. That was what he had become. A boogeyman. A destroyer of worlds. As much as his earlier words had been to comfort the young Nietzchean, he had also tried to reassure his own conscience. Now gazing at the young man before him, Dylan found himself needing him. He reached over and kissed Tyr gently. Feeling no response he pulled back. Tyr was looking at him as though he were measuring his worth. Being a Nietzchean, he probably was.

Maybe this was a mistake. After all, why would Tyr want someone who had destroyed his world just a few hours ago.

"No wait." Tyr finally spoke when he saw Dylan move away from him. "Why?" He asked the older man.

Dylan found himself unable to truly answer that question, without revealing the attraction he felt towards Tyr. The attraction that over the past few weeks had been quickly growing into an urgent need. As he again reached out for Tyr, this time it was the young warrior who initiated the kiss, closing the distance between them. Their lips met.

One of Tyr's hands was holding the back of Dylan's neck keeping him immobile, as though afraid the young captain would leave him. They paused to catch their breaths, leaning against one another.

"To answer your question," Dylan said as his fingertips traced along Tyr's jaw, making their way down his neck, tracing the collarbone. "I've been wanting to do this from the very beginning. From the moment you boarded Andromeda and your very presence filled the room. All day as I held the fate of our future in my hands, I couldn't help but think what this would do to you." He confessed. At the continued silence that greeted this final statement, Dylan handed to Tyr the one weapon that could ultimately destroy him. "You have become my weakness." That was all he was allowed to say as he found himself crushed to the body next to him.

Tyr lay back on the marble bench, dragging Dylan down on top of him. Frantically they both removed their clothing. Soon Dylan found himself apologizing when he almost hit Tyr on the nose as he was trying to remove the metal top. After that near miss they slowed down, taking their time, allowing their bodies to acquaint themselves.

Dylan took one brown nipple into his mouth and sucked, biting into it when he felt the body underneath him writhe. His hand travelled down the smooth muscled body until it settled on pumping Tyr's cock, gently at first, encouraging the Nietzchean to open himself up for further scrutiny.

He let go of the nipple and heard Tyr moan a protest. Dylan trailed kisses down the young man's navel. He glanced up and took note of Tyr's clenched fist. He kissed the inner thigh, licked the sac and avoided the prize.

The young man could take no more of this teasing. He grabbed hold of Dylan, placing his hand on the back of the captain's head pushing him toward the straining cock. Dylan opened his mouth and nibbled just the tip. Tyr took hold of Hunt's fingers and put them inside his warm mouth, coating them with saliva.

Dylan removed his coated fingers out of that warm cavern and placed them instead just above Tyr's opening, teasing the entrance until it was able to accept first one and then two fingers, all the while sucking the young man's cock. He set up a rhythm to torment the writhing body underneath him. His fingers moved forward increasing the pace, touching the Nietzchean's prostate all the while his mouth, nibbled and sucked the straining organ.

He could not hold out much longer. Hunt let go of Tyr and spit some of the pre-cum captured in his mouth on his hands spreading it on his own cock and guiding it to the opening before him. Dylan entered Tyr swiftly, stopping only to allow him the time to adjust and then took him harshly, needing to inflict the pain. To reassure himself at least that this was happening and not part of a waking fantasy. Tenderness could wait for a next time, if there was a next time.

Tyr met him thrust, for thrust. Their lips met. Their tongues battled, until finally it was over and all they could do was hold each other as their bodies shook from the exertion.

Dylan rolled of Tyr and that was when he finally noticed. All through this, the young man had kept his eyes closed. Keeping himself at a distance.

Tyr opened his eyes and a single tear fell from them. "We lived."

"Yes." Dylan confirmed.

"They died." He whispered turning his gaze back to the stars.

They just held each other on the marble bench, having just now reconfirmed their status as living beings. Dylan could only hope he had made the right choice, in both events that had occurred on this day. Destroying the enemies of the Commonwealth and taking the young Nietzchean to bed. He wondered what his First Officer, Gaharis Raday, would have said to all of this.

Hunt sighed deeply. He had enough regrets, and this would not be put in that category. He hugged the body next to him tighter and closed his eyes, concentrating on the scent coming from the young man's tired body. He wished he could erase the pain. He wished he could offer more than this night but it was up to Tyr to decide, whether to continue this but for now he could delude himself into thinking the young man was his.

end