Dylan looked down at the small cabin that sat on the edge of the river. From his vantage point, he could see smoke curling from the chimney and the nets drying in the sun.
A woman sat on the dock, her feet dangling over the edge, hands busy repairing a net. He knew her: Yvaine.
He made his way down the short hill, taking care to find his footing on the loose dirt and stopped at the shoreline. It was beautiful here. Tall green trees and pristine river water that seemed to stretch forever. So different from the deep black of space.
"Who are you?"
Dylan turned and found himself face to face with a young man. He was tall and caramel colored, a perfect blend of his parents. Long locks were partially pulled back in a high ponytail, leaving the rest to fall down his back. His forearm spurs were protected by gauntlets that Dylan recognized quite well; their last owner had worn them until he had somehow been irrevocably changed. It made sense that he had saved them for his son.
The question held a tone of imperiousness that was impossible to ignore and Dylan supressed a smile. "I'm Dylan Hunt. I've come looking for someone," he replied.
The youth considered Dylan's words before a lightly mocking smile graced his lips. "Father told me you'd come one day," he said thoughtfully. "I never quite believed him." He turned on his heel and walked towards the house. "Come with me," he tossed over his shoulder.
There was nothing for Dylan to do but follow.
As they neared the house, they met Yvaine. The intervening years had been kind to her and did little to diminish the warmth that seemed to flow through her. "Captain Hunt," she said with a small smile, "it's good to see you."
Dylan said, "I'm not a captain anymore, Yvaine, but I'm glad to see you again." He looked toward the open door of the house and inlined his head toward it. "Is he home?"
"Mmm, yes. Go on in." She turned towards Tyr's son. "Tamerlaine, help me with the last of the nets."
"But..."
The words had barely left his mouth before she fixed the true genetic reincarnation of Drago Museveni with what could only be called a "mom" look. Dylan recognized it quite well from his own childhood memories and waved Tamerlaine away. "If I'm still around later, we can talk," he offered the younger man. That seemed to appease him and he took off after Yvaine.
"If you're still around is an understatement if I ever heard one."
Time and distance did nothing to diminish the sheer arrogance of Tyr Anasazi's tone. The one time ruler of the Neitzchean prides leaned against the porch railing, arms folded across his still considerable chest. The bone blades were still gone as was Tyr's hair. A close crop had replaced the long locks that forever lived within Dylan's imagination.
"I heard rumor," Tyr began as he stepped off the porch and walked toward Dylan. "That a certain celebrated startship captain had resigned from the High Guard and had taken off for parts unknown."
Dylan faced Tyr defiantly. "The rumors are true."
"Obviously," came the dry reply. "Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here now." Tyr stopped in front of Dylan. Both men took in the changes that the intervening decade had wrought before finally looking at each other.
Tyr reached up and skated his fingers across the thin scar that ran from the edge of Dylan's left eye to the middle of his cheek. "The person who did this," he said slowly. "Did you kill him?"
"Her."
"Ah, a woman was nearly the death of you yet again."
Dylan snorted derisively. "Yeah, well, I didn't come here for you to laugh at me, Tyr."
Tyr's palm cupped Dylan's cheek. "Then why are you here, Dylan? Doesn't the universe need saving?"
He brought his hand up to cover Tyr's and closed his eyes, savoring its warmth. "It was time," Dylan said.
"For?"
Dylan opened his eyes as their hands dropped away to their sides. "To rest. Here. If you'll have me."
Disclaimer: Tyr Anasazi, Dylan Hunt, Tamerlaine, Breyon, and Yvaine all property of Tribune Entertainment and MBR Productions. All associated situations are my own. No money is being made from this effort