If Dylan were the same man Gaheris expected him to be, that quip about errors in physics would have earned him a laugh, a wry smile, a retort about not knowing the half of it, but it didn't. Not here, not now. Because Gaheris didn't know the half of it, because errors in physics had cost Dylan more than he'd ever imagined he could lose, and because it was Gaheris' fault.

"I've had more than my share."

If Gaheris hadn't sabotaged the Andromeda, Dylan and Dawn had stood a chance of pulling off the slingshot and getting away from the battle. The path of what ifs was always a dangerous one to go down, but Dylan knew that things would have been different if the Andromeda hadn't been sabotaged at that critical moment.

For so long, the friendship they'd known had burned into something bitter, angry. Dylan had wanted to blame the entire Nietzschean race, not only for what they did to the Commonwealth, but for what Gaheris did to him. It had been a dark road, one he'd only strayed from when the horror of what he'd had to do at Witchhead had sobered him.

Dylan still couldn't look at Gaheris and see the friend he'd known. All he could see was the betrayer, the man he'd killed.

Yet ... just like he couldn't tell Telemachus what Gaheris had done, he couldn't tell Gaheris, either. Couldn't say that now, instead of three years of friendship, he had to fight back flashes of a violent fight to the death, of Gaheris' dying breaths. Understanding a little more of what Gaheris had done then he did at first didn't mean he'd forgiven, would ever forgive, him.

"It's been a long time since I saw you, Gaheris. A lot's different."