Ten
When Susan entered Marcus's room, she was amazed he'd been able to restrain himself from pacing. If it had been her locked up like that while her friend was in trouble, she would've worn right through to the next level. But Marcus was sitting quietly on the floor, legs folded beneath him and eyes closed, totally motionless and peaceful.
His eyes shot open as she moved further into the room and he pushed himself up onto the bed. "How is she?" he asked immediately.
"She'll be fine," Susan told him, the relief in her voice clear, even to herself. "She's exhausted and malnourished, but she'll be fine. Anann and David are with her now."
Marcus nodded. Susan had told him about the two siblings and he'd been wanting to meet them ever since. He also wanted to see Delenn, but he could accept that she was extremely busy as President. He watched Susan's blurry form walk back and forth in front of him and smiled at the familiarity of the motion. "Do you always pace like that?" he asked.
She paused, caught off guard by the old question, then replied, grinning, "Is there some way you'd prefer me to pace?"
"I'd prefer you to take me for that walk you promised," he commented wryly.
She felt her brows draw together. "Garibaldi and Stephen are scheduled to arrive soon," she told him, regretting that she had to leave. "I should meet them back at headquarters. Next time I visit, I'll take you."
He nodded, disappointment flitting across his face. A perky smile replaced it almost instantly but she only felt worse. "That's alright," he said cheerfully. "Tell them to drop by, would you?"
"I will," she promised. She hesitated before standing, not quite ready to leave his proximity just yet. She could feel a trace of his warmth from where she was sitting, half a foot away from him. Back on Babylon 5, she would never have considered being so close to him and enjoying it. It hadn't been an option, and so she'd made fun of it, pretended to be annoyed by it, anything to distract herself from realizing how much she wanted it to be a possibility. The fact had been that they were in the middle of a war, and even once she'd set aside her barriers enough to know that she was nearly ready to accept him more fully into her life, she'd put duty first.
And then, of course, he'd gone and died, and she'd spent the last twenty years regretting not acting sooner. She'd vowed to herself that if she ever got the chance, she wouldn't make the same mistake again, so why was it so hard for her to summon the courage to even touch him? What was she so afraid of?
He caught her staring. "I have a Mondellian slug on my face again, don't I?" he asked jokingly. She felt warmth flood her cheeks and turned her head away, but not quick enough for him to miss it. He grinned slowly, almost triumphantly. "Is that a blush?" he demanded of no one, putting on an air of wonderment. "Is Susan Ivanova, the Susan Ivanova, blushing?"
She smacked his arm. "Shut it," she snapped, "I don't blush."
"Right," he said, drawing out the lone syllable, getting that look that was somewhere between sceptical and all-knowing, "And Sheridan doesn't snore and Minbari never lie."
She shook her head in amusement and stood. "I'll see you later," she said.
"See you," he replied, giving a little wave as she stepped out the door.
When she got back to Headquarters, she checked in with some of the Rangers stationed there to make sure Steven and Garibaldi hadn't already arrived. They hadn't, it seemed, and so she gave orders for them to be brought to her when they did and sat down at her desk and started work on composing a reply to General Foster.
That is, she slumped her head on her folded arms and tried desperately to think of what she wanted to do. General or Entil'Zha? General or Entil'Zha? The question echoed over and over again in her mind. She'd just gotten the position, it wouldn't be hard to just tell Delenn she wasn't up to it and quit before she made too many connections. She'd spent the better part of her life working towards General. The decision seemed obvious.
"Computer, message to General J. Foster, EarthForce."
"General J. Foster, EarthForce, is unavailable. Would you like to leave a message?"
"Affirmative."
"Recording."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised to get your answering machine, Foster. It's what, midnight there? I've been thinking about what you said. If it comes to it, you can tell the brass that I'm willing to resign my commission." She cut the channel and stared at the terminal as it turned itself off. Had she really just done that? She groaned. It had either been the biggest mistake of her life, or it had been the best move she'd ever made. Either way, it had been quite accidental.
"Ivanova?"
She raised her head to see Garibaldi standing in the doorway, looking something between amused and concerned. She smiled immediately and stood. "Garibaldi!" she greeted him warmly, going around her desk to give him a friendly bear hug.
He thumped her back good-naturedly and held her at arms' length to give her a once-over. "You're looking better," he told her.
Feigning miffed, she shook off his hands. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
He chuckled, "Nothing, nothing. You just seem perkier than you did before. And do I detect fewer grey hairs…?"
"Michael…" she warned, and he wisely shut up.
A young girl flounced into the room and grabbed Susan about the middle. "Heya, Ivanova!" she cried, "Long time no see!"
Staggering back a step, Susan pried Emma off her. "How've you been?" she asked warmly. "You look taller than last time I saw you."
Emma beamed at her. "I'm great!" she told her enthusiastically. "I won the Intercity Tennis Tournament!"
"You—" Susan's jaw dropped, "The Intercity? You won it?"
Emma nodded proudly and Susan ruffled her hair. "Ivanova…" she groaned, "I'm not six anymore."
"Don't worry, Susan," came a soft voice from the doorway, "She reminds me of that all the time too."
She looked up and saw Lise smiling at her. They gave each other a warm greeting and hug, and then Stephen appeared, grinning at the sight of his friend. "It's been so long," Susan remarked sarcastically.
Stephen chuckled, "By now you'd think I was smart enough not to agree with Michael on this sort of thing, but… really, you're looking much better than you did a few weeks ago. Anything going on we should know about?"
"Other than that Marcus is alive and recovering?" She couldn't hold back the grin. Of course they'd known that already—it was why they'd come all the way back out here—but just being able to say it felt like such a miracle.
Stephen laughed, "You two finally working out your issues?"
"I haven't killed him yet, if that's what you mean," she replied. Garibaldi chuckled from where he was seated on her desk. She shook her head slightly, "Well, I know you all didn't come to see me, and Marcus made me promise to bring you by, so what are we waiting for?"
As per Delenn's instructions, faithfully delivered by David before he parted ways with them to return to the Ranger barracks, Lennier brought Anann back to her home in the Alliance Headquarters. He was to stay with her at all times, sleep in the apartment, and keep her company. The servants would cook for them both, he needn't worry about that; he was just there to make sure she wasn't lonely.
She trailed her hands along the side of table when they returned as if unsure what to do. When she came to a framed picture, she stopped and picked it up, looking at it pensively. She held it up for Lennier to see. "David gave it to me," she told him. "When he was on a mission, he met a boy who talked a lot and asked about where he came from. David told him about me, and the boy drew a picture of how he pictured me." She giggled. "I don't think he understood that I'm all Minbari, not almost-Human like David, but that's okay. It's cute, isn't it?"
Lennier looked down at the piece of paper. It had, at one time, been carefully folded, probably by David to keep it out of harm's way. The picture was drawn in coloured ink of some kind and featured an awkward-looking figure in a skirt with curly hair reminiscent of David's. "Did you meet the boy?" Lennier asked.
"No," Anann said, putting it back down on the shelf. She traced a finger over the lines of the drawn girl's face. "David said that he went away to a nice place." She looked up at Lennier, dark eyes showing a sad understanding that had no right to be on a child's face. Lennier's stomach clenched.
Anann left the picture and plopped onto the couch, telling him resolutely, "I want to be a Ranger when I grow up. You were a Ranger, right, Lennier?"
Slowly, he sat beside her and nodded. "Why do you want to be a Ranger?"
"Because David is a Ranger," she said as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "And because John was a Ranger, too, the leader of the Rangers. Now Aunt Susan is Entil'Zha. I want to make all of them and Delenn proud of me."
"They're already proud of you," Lennier told her gently. "You don't need to be a Ranger to make them proud."
"I know," she admitted, lowering her eyes to her hands in her lap. "But… I want to do it. Why did you become a Ranger, Lennier?"
"I made a terrible mistake," he told her honestly, "and I thought that I could make up for it by joining the Anla'shok. It was not the calling of my heart."
"What was the calling of your heart?" she asked, gazing up at him.
He could not hold her gaze and looked away. "To serve that which I love above all else," he answered quietly, evasively, hoping she'd leave it at that.
"What is that?" she asked, but seemed to realize her question was unwelcome. "Oh. Sorry. Never mind." She glanced around the room. "Do you want to play a card game?"
He smiled and nodded. "You'll have to teach me."
The day slipped away into night, and Anann put herself to bed after her yawns grew progressively wider for half an hour. Lennier sat on the couch, feeling awkward and out of place, as if he were invading Delenn's privacy by being alone in her apartment, but as time passed silently, he found his eyes closing and his mind drifting off to sleep.
He was wakened by the soft sound of crying and immediately followed the sound to Anann's bedroom. He opened the doors just enough to see inside.
"Lennier?" she whispered.
"Are you alright?" he asked, pushing the doors open a little further.
"I was dreaming," she said. "Please… come in?"
He entered and sat next to her on the bed. She shifted to lie on her back and took his hand. "What were you dreaming about?" he asked gently.
She wiped away a tear. "My colony," she told him, "and Delenn. They were attacking… she got hurt. I tried to help her, but—"
"Don't worry," Lennier assured her. He'd dealt with his own nightmares for years, but to have to soothe the night-demons of a child was something entirely foreign. "It was only a dream. Delenn is fine. She'll be back soon."
"I know," Anann nodded. "I'm sorry for crying and waking you up."
"I wasn't sleeping." Yes, it was untrue. Yes, he'd been asleep. No, he was not about to give Anann guilt to add to her pile of worries and fears. "I will stay with you until you fall asleep again," he offered.
"I'd like that," she gave a small smile and closed her eyes. A moment later her voice floated through the dark room, "What do you think happens to us when we die?"
He jumped, startled by the direct question. "We go to a place where no shadows fall." Another lie. He reflected vaguely that he might want to keep an eye on that habit.
"What's it like there?" she asked, her eyes opening again.
"It's a beautiful place," he told her quietly, "full of light and joy. Everyone we've ever loved is there, waiting for us with open arms."
"Everyone?" She looked worried.
"Everyone," he confirmed.
"Not just Minbari?"
"Not just Minbari."
"But what if I don't like it?" she asked, more tears starting to fall. "What if I want to leave?"
"You won't," he reassured her, squeezing her hand gently. "It's paradise, with all your friends and family around you. You can have anything you ever wanted, be anything you ever wanted to be."
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. A long moment later, she whispered, "I don't want to die, Lennier."
"You're not going to." He smoothed a hand over her forehead. "You have a long life ahead of you."
"Are you scared of dying?"
"There is nothing to fear in death," he assured her. "It is simply the next stage in our journey. After a time in the place where no shadows fall, we will be reborn into a new generation."
"And I'll be me again?"
"Yes." He smiled down at her, "You will be you again. Now, sleep, and think of happier things."
"You'll stay?" she bit her lip shyly.
"Always."
Garibaldi, Lise, Emma, and Stephen all left together in one big rush, and in under ten seconds Ivanova went from being surrounded by noisy, cheerful friends, to being totally alone with an unusually quiet Ranger. She was standing in the courtyard, still looking after the others' retreating backs, while Marcus sat on a bench nearby. She watched him for a moment before he looked up and caught her at it.
"What?" he asked lightly, "Is that slug back again? Nasty, persistent buggers… you think they're gone and then—oops, here we go again!"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself; you'd look better with a slug on your face. You were so quiet; I was just making sure you were still alive."
"Hey!" he cried indignantly, "That was uncalled for! What, are you picking on the weak and vulnerable now?"
"No," she replied, strolling lazily into the grove of trees. "Just you."
She gazed up, watching the sky through the branches as her feet crunched the leaves that had fallen early. It was a clear night, the stars hidden by the city lights but the moons shining down brightly. There was the beginning of the fall coolness in the slight breeze, just enough to make her wrap her arms around herself. She closed her eyes, feeling the few pieces of her hair that had worked themselves free of their knot sway around her face.
"What are you thinking about?"
She opened her eyes and turned. Marcus was leaning against a nearby tree, somehow having managed to sneak over there without her hearing him. He was staring at her, just like she remembered him staring at her on the White Star, however many years ago, and back on Babylon 5, whenever he thought she wasn't looking. "Nothing," she replied honestly.
He pushed off the tree to come closer to her but only got two shaky steps before she was by his side, supporting him. "You shouldn't try to walk by yourself yet," she warned him, steering him back toward the bench.
"If I never try to walk by myself, I'll never get any stronger," he protested, though she noticed he made no effort to dislodge the arm she'd slipped around his waist.
"Don't you try that on me." She pulled a face as they sat down on the bench again. "I know you walk around your room while I'm away. And don't deny it. If you want to pass out from exhaustion then, fine with me. Just don't do it on my watch." He chuckled, leaning his head back. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Can you see the moons?"
"I can see nearly as much as I could before," he told her. "Everything's been healing quite quickly."
She grinned, "Soon I won't have come to see you."
"I'm hurt," he joked, clutching his hand to his heart for melodrama. "Don't worry, I'll come to see you."
"Oh, great," she muttered sarcastically, "just what I need. Another creep following me around."
"Really, Susan," he sighed medulodramatically, "my poor, weak heart might not stand up to all these insults." She snorted.
"You'll survive, I'm sure," she drawled. "But it is getting late. Let's get you back to your room."
"Speaking of which…" he rooted himself firmly to the bench as she rose to help him up. Her hand went to her hip impatiently. "Don't you think it's time I got out of the hospital? It's not like the nurses actually do anything except feed me anymore—I'm a waste of resources."
"They don't do tests?" she questioned, sceptical. She could recall hearing about him sneaking away from Medlab on many occasions, always without Stephen's approval and always to wreak his special brand of havoc in other parts of the station.
"Not for a few days now," he told her, puppy-like honesty written all over his face.
Written a little too much all over his face, if you asked her… "No," she said firmly. "You're staying in the hospital until they release you." She wasn't going to let anything else happen to him. She wouldn't allow it.
"Susan!" he persisted, letting her pull him to his feet. "Come on! That could be months from now and there's nothing to do here. Nothing! No books, no vids, and I can't go through any of my Ranger exercises without triggering some alarm or another."
She levelled a stare at him. "And where would you go if I got you out of here?" she asked, knowing she sounded cranky and regretting it in some part of her mind.
He sighed. "Alright, fine," he relented, looking as tired as she felt. "Take me back to the prison cell."
It was further from this courtyard back to his room, and by the time she let go of him, the bed he sank gratefully onto was looking pretty darn appealing. Stifling a yawn, she watched him get comfortable. "Need a hand with anything?" she asked, "If not, I'm off. I have a lot to do tomorrow, and believe it or not I have learned over the years that sleep helps."
"You sleep?" he feigned shock and awe.
"Shove it," she snapped. "Do you need help with anything, or what?"
"No," he said, taking the tired irritation in her voice for the warning that it was, "No, I do believe I'm fine."
"Great," she clapped her hands and turned to leave. "Good night."
"Susan," he called after her, catching her halfway though the doorway. She stopped and took a step or two back into the room. He was scrambling for something to say, she could see it on his face. "Are you coming back tomorrow?"
She sighed wearily and sat on the bed beside him. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I'll try." She looked over at him, smiling a bit in apology.
Panic froze the smile as he reached out to touch her face. "You've changed," he murmured, tracing her cheekbone and the lines around her mouth, carved by years upon years of stern, military frowns. "What have I missed in your life, Susan?"
She couldn't answer. The words stuck in her throat, and before she could quite register the familiar stinging beneath her eyes, she was struggling against tears. The hand on her cheek slid to the base of her skull while another snaked around her back and suddenly she was surrounded by a warm embrace.
Twenty years ago, she would've stiffened and pushed him away. Twenty years ago, she probably would've punched him for his audacity. Twenty years ago, she wouldn't have been choking out muddled apologies into the fabric of his tunic. Twenty years ago, she was a different woman.
She melted into him, leaning her forehead against his shoulder and letting her nails dig into his back, not quite sure if she was crying. Oh god, how she'd dreamed of this… it was almost too much. He was as she'd imagined, warm and welcoming and kind and so real, so very there with her. Why hadn't she ever let herself do this before? Things might've been different, she might not have been standing right where she was, he might not have done what he did… She wouldn't make that mistake again.
She pulled back just enough to see his face, sure that her determination was clearly visible on her own. She held his gaze for a brief moment before leaning in and pressing her lips to his. She drew away to see his reaction, her stomach clenching with irrational fear that he'd reject her. Something changed as he met her eyes again, and in one flurry of motion he gathered her to him and brought his mouth down on hers.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she was crushed against him, the space that had previously been between them as they sat together obliterated. She was dimly aware of her own legs pushing her into a more comfortable position, closer to him, at less of an angle. He was kissing her, and that was all that mattered. Her mind was still trying to get itself around that fact. He was kissing her.
She opened her mouth to him gladly, welcoming his tongue as it slipped inside. She'd often wondered what it would be like to kiss him, whether he would be shy or daring, rough or gentle… but she'd long ago decided that whatever he was, she would like.
She was not disappointed.