Disclaimer: JMS owns everything except my ideas!
Authors note. This story came from a Xmas challenge. I can't usually write to order, but this piece just 'came to me' out of the blue.
Feedback/ reviews most welcome.
Sbenson@cwcom.net
Merry Xmas
Garibaldi sat at the bar, nursing the frosted high glass in one hand. All around him the sound of laughter and drunken revelry battered at his senses. He may not be able to drink any more, but at least he could soak up the atmosphere.
Three times that day he had been approached by Ambassadors all complaining that the Human celebrations were encroaching on their part of the station. Balloons had been found hanging outside the Pak'mara quarters. And a group of off duty female pilots had waylaid Lennier, carrying out an urgent commission for Delenn. The concept of mistletoe was totally alien to a Minbari and he had returned to his quarters confused, his cheeks decorated with a variety of lip-gloss.
It seemed the whole human population of the station had been infected with the holiday fever. All save one. Susan Ivanova was an impressive figure at the best of times, and none more so than when she had a full head of steam up. He felt her arrival like a physical blow. She stood in the doorway, her dark eyes surveying the crowded room with icy determination.
"Oh, oh." He turned his stool around, and sat back down to watch the show. The colour in her cheeks bespoke a temper tantrum of volcanic proportions, someone was about to be ripped apart and he had a ringside seat!
But those dark eyes caught his, noted his presence and with the power of an arctic icebreaker, Susan steamed toward him carving a passage through the sea of people.
"Where is he?" Her voice rang loud enough to be heard over the surrounding din.
"Who?" He replied, enjoying the sight of her rising temper. "Someone annoy you Commander? Can I arrest anyone in particular? Just tell me what the offence is and I'll clap him up for you. Say the word…"
"I'll deal with this myself, Garibaldi. Where's Cole? C&C said he was in this bar, where is he?"
When she resorted to using Marcus' last name it was time for the ranger to duck. He twisted around to where he had last seen Marcus seated, but the chair was now empty, only a half full glass on the table stood testament to his recent occupation. It seemed the ranger's sense of self-preservation was on full alert that night and he had beat a strategic and hasty retreat.
"Well…" Garibaldi drawled, "he was over there. Seems he saw you coming, Susan. What'd he do this time?"
She heard the amusement in his voice and cast him a fulminating glance that threatened dire retribution if he continued.
"Let's go down to security, I want to find him and your cameras should make it a lot easier." Garibaldi's hesitation only fuelled her annoyance.
"Don't you think he would have gone back to his quarters?"
"He's not stupid, Michael. Come on, let's move it."
All the way down to the Security offices she mulled over Marcus' crime, her temper flaring higher and higher. And not for a moment did she think her reaction disproportionate to his actions.
Coming off shift after a hectic day in C&C she had entered the darkness of her rooms with relief. Just because it was Xmas Eve did not mean things slowed down on the station. In fact it seemed the reverse. Last minute consignments were being delivered, transports were taking humans back to their colonies, and to cap it all there had been a series of armed raids by aliens dressed as Santa!
She had called for lights and begun to take off the constricting jacket when her eye had lit on a small gift-wrapped package placed precisely in the centre of her coffee table. Fine gold and silver ribbons encircled the small red box, and underneath it sat a hand-written envelope. The writing was vaguely familiar to her. Strong upward strokes in bold black ink proclaimed her name.
The paper was of excellent quality, it had been a long time since such a luxury had come her way and she felt the thick material in wonder. Sliding a finger under the flap she eased it open, inside a creamy white sheet held the following legend...
'I saw this, and thought of you.'
Yours, as ever
Marcus
Intrigued, she picked up the box and shook it. No sound came from its interior so she carefully untied the intricate bows until the lid came free of its trappings. Lifting it she came to soft tissue paper layered again in silver and gold. Under all of that lay a pendant of exquisite workmanship. A wolf's head so finely crafted that she wanted to reach out and run her hands over the lifelike pelt. Its eyes were the deepest blue gemstones she had ever seen, piercing and perceptive. Gingerly she touched the metal, wondering at the magnificence of his gift. And then she turned back to the note - 'I saw this and thought of you'. What the hell did that mean?
Slowly she stood, leaving the gift on the table as she took a turn around the room. Did he see her like that? As some kind of wild animal? They had their moments, sure, but was that his perception of her? Looking at the pendant again, its eyes seemed to follow her as she paced back and forth. It must have cost him a small fortune. He certainly had not purchased that on the station, which meant… She cursed him under her breath. It was too much, the price he must have paid for this, the gratitude she should feel for his gift! No, she had to return it. She was damned if she would be under any obligation to the man who had become more than an annoyance in her life.
She could almost see the hurt in his eyes as she hurled the gift in his face, but she resolutely squashed the image.
"C&C, this is Commander Ivanova. Does anyone know where Marcus Cole is?"
Although they were not strictly supposed to keep track of individuals on board, it had become almost second nature to the crew to keep tabs on certain people. Marcus was the hardest to keep an eye on however. One of the girls just coming on shift replied that he had been at 'Skyers Bar' half an hour before. Thanking them for their help and ignoring the speculations that would probably start the minute she cut communications she did up her jacket, ran a hand over her hair to tidy up any loose ends that might have strayed from the severe ponytail.
Grabbing the box from the table she reluctantly returned the lid to its place and rammed the whole thing into her pocket beating a hasty exit.
"Susan?" Garibaldi's touch to her arm dragged her back from her reminiscing.
"Anything unusual happening tonight?" Now that he was back in the office Garibaldi's natural curiosity took over as his eyes scanned the security camera images. Flicking from one to another he toured the whole station, very aware of Ivanova's taut body standing dangerously close to his. And again he wondered what the ranger had done this time to set off her temper.
Starting with those cameras still in operation down below they swept the ship, level by level until they reached the Zocalo. Tomorrow was a holiday, and the shops were opening late that night to catch the last of the Xmas shoppers. The bustle of people made it hard to discern one face from another but Susan knew she could pick Marcus out of a crowd no matter how he disguised himself.
Even as the call came in, camera 223 caught the raid in progress. Four individuals, dressed in Santa outfits burst from the doors, each held a weapon that they waved with menace at the crowd. Security guards battled their way through the throng as a fifth Santa emerged, the store's owner gripped tightly in a choke hold, a ppg pointed at his head. At this distance it was almost impossible to see what race the raiders were. Hoods were drawn up over their heads, and full white beards and moustaches covered faces.
Suddenly there was a swirl of activity and Marcus emerged from the fleeing crowd. He walked slowly toward the raiders, his face wreathed in smiles, one hand lost in the folds of his cloak as the other was held out in a gesture of appeasement. All eyes now rested on him as he circled around to the left, taking their attention with him. Behind them, security took up positions that ensured a safe end to the conflict. The hostage taker moved his ppg to aim now at Marcus' approaching form.
In the security office, Susan held her breath, cursing him as never before. 'If he got himself killed, she would never forgive him, never.' She could not drag her eyes from the scene playing out on the screen.
Security moved in from behind and suddenly all hell was let loose. The alien Santa let off a shot at Marcus even as he dodged to the side. His pike flew open and he ran into the group, taking out first one, then another of them, heading always to the hostage and the leader of the group. He was fearsome in his attack, agile, deadly and beautiful to watch.
The hostage was suddenly released as the alien concentrated all his attention on the ranger. Firing almost point blank at his assailant as Marcus charged. Susan drew in a ragged breath as she watched him stagger obviously hit. Then his pike swung round in a deadly arc, taking the raider in the side of the head, sending the Santa cap rolling across the floor as he fell unconscious.
Garibaldi was cursing the ineptitude of his security detail even as he called to Med lab for help. Marcus had fallen to his knees one hand pressed tightly against his shoulder. And even on this remote camera Susan could see the blood that seeped through his fingers.
"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to take him apart piece by piece and feed him to the Pak'mara!"
"Well, I think you are going to have to wait your turn, Susan." Garibaldi indicated the screen where Marcus was now laying prostrate on the dusty floor.
Her stomach churned as she stood in the transport tube, one foot tapping impatiently as she counted down the levels. A headache had begun somewhere behind her eyes and she could feel the tenseness gathering in her body. The doors swished open and she strode quickly along the corridor to Med Lab.
Here too the festive season had made itself felt. Chains hung along the walls little Snowmen sat atop monitors and in the doorway a sprig of mistletoe hung expectantly.
Marcus was sitting up looking remarkably well for someone who had just received a near fatal wound. A drip had been inserted into one wiry arm, and a blood bag hung at his side on a tall metal stand. Susan's eyes skimmed over his lean torso, noting the surprisingly strong musculature that covered his slim body. Noting too, the scars that decorated his pale skin that laid testament to previous encounters. Seeing him apparently well only added to her anger as her fears for him went unacknowledged.
"Stephen, can I talk to your patient please?" The smile on her face belied by the dangerous gleam in her eyes. The doctor, his back to her as he helped Marcus don the standard blue gown, did not see the danger signs.
"Sure. Just don't keep him talking too long."
"Hello, Susan."
She went straight for him, her hand retrieving the box and waiving it under his nose forcing him back against the soft padding.
"What the hell is this, Cole? How dare you enter my quarters and leave something like this for me to find!"
"It's Xmas remember? The time for giving, goodwill to all men and all that! Oh and women too of course, have to be politically correct don't we."
She aimed a punch at his good shoulder, drawing back at the last moment.
"That's it, hit a man when he's down. Do you get your jollys laying into the weak and helpless?"
After the display she had seen earlier, anyone less helpless would be hard to find. Her action however had been unwarranted, hearing his accusation, however mildly put twinged her conscience.
She moved closer and watched as his eyes grew wary, revelling just a little at the power she held over him.
"Marcus, explain this to me." Holding the note so that he could read his own words.
"Just what it says, Susan. I saw this and you sprang to mind."
"Why? Do you really think I am like a wolf? A scavenger, something to be feared - is that how you see me?"
Her hand lay beside him on the bed and he gingerly touched it with his fingertips. She jumped as though jolted with electricity, snatching her hand away from him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to…" He hesitated, then answered her question.
"Yes I do see you in the wolf. Or should it be the wolf in you? Never was any good at that whole grammar syntax thing. Anyway," he hurried on, "I have always had a soft spot for wolves. Misunderstood loners but proud and extremely loyal. Hunting in packs when the need arises but content on their own too. I admire their strength, their loyalty." He looked up at her, trying to read her face. "And yes, you remind me very much of the wolf."
She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed and instead opted for confusion. Marcus' dreamy green eyes held her captive for a moment until she shook off his hypnotic gaze.
"It cost too much. I can't accept anything this valuable, especially…"
"Especially not from me?"
"I'm sorry, I can't reciprocate. Here, take it back."
Cocking his head on one side, ignoring the box she had almost flung into his lap he grinned.
"What about a trade. Something I would like from you in exchange for the Xmas gift?"
He lifted the lid from the box and took out the pendant, dangling it from his fingers enticingly. Almost without volition she reached for the wolf's head, fingers caressing the metal. She shook her head; "There's nothing I could give you that compares to this."
"Oh there is," he chuckled, his eyes glancing to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh resounded around the bay as her palm assaulted his cheek. She turned and stormed from the room, her colour high.
With careful movements, Marcus eased himself off of the bed and made his way unsteadily to the opening, the stand and drip tagging along behind him. Propping himself against the wall he watched her rapid progress along the hallway, saw her stop in her tracks then just as quickly make her way back down the corridor until she stood nose to nose with him. She checked that no one was in sight, that all the Med staff were fully engaged then turned her attention to the ranger.
Grabbing a handful of the gown he wore she hauled him closer still, and with a swift move locked her mouth to his in a kiss that sent his temperature soaring and turned his legs to jelly.
Coming up for air she grabbed the pendant and tucked it safely in her pocket. "If you tell anyone, anyone at all, you're a dead man!"
"What if I get you something for New Year!" he called to her rapidly receding form.
"Don't push your luck, Cole," her answer floated down the hall.
Suddenly he realised that he was grinning like a Cheshire cat who had got 'all' the cream. Composing his features he whispered, "Merry Xmas, Susan."
The end.