A Matter of Trust
Terri Osborne
(LtCmKieran@aol.com)
Disclaimers: It all belongs to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT, and anyone else I've forgotten. I make no claims of any kind whatsoever.
SPOILER WARNING: DEFINITELY contains spoilers for Face of The Enemy.
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"There's nothing that he has to say to me right now that I have the slightest interest in hearing.
And you tell them that if he turns up on the station I want that son of a bitch shot on sight."
Susan Ivanova pressed her head back against the pillow, wishing she could find some way to get the blasted Minbari bed fixed into a horizontal position.
How can anyone sleep on these things?
She was thankful for the mundane distraction, however, because it kept her from having to decide whether to be disappointed or flat-out angry at the situation with Garibaldi.
"Face it, Ivanova, you should be used to getting betrayed by now," she angrily told herself. One bitter tear worked its warm way down her cheek. Wiping it away, she tried once more to find a comfortable position on the inclined surface.
"Maybe Corwin was right after all," she told the near-darkness that enveloped her.
"About what?"
Turning toward the sound of the new voice, she found Marcus silhouetted against the open door. She'd heard that tone in his voice one too many times before. He was worried, but trying very hard not to let it show.
"About not trusting anybody," she whispered.
"Mister Garibaldi, I presume?"
"You've got it."
"Susan," he began, stepping into the room. "He's been acting odd ever since he came back. I don't know about you, but that little speech he gave for that reporter was a dead giveaway."
"You don't get it, Marcus," she said, hysteria creeping into her demeanor. Pulling herself off of the bed, she began unconsciously pacing the room. "That's the way the universe works for me. Some kind of sick joke it's playing. I finally start to care about people again and they stab me in the back." She stopped just long enough to mockingly handed him an invisible knife. "Here, it's just a matter of time before you join the club. Why not do it now and get it over with?"
"Susan," he soothed. "You're ranting."
"And why shouldn't I?"
"Well, for one, why are you making this personal? It was the captain he turned in, not you."
If she hadn't had the clarity of thought to see his point, she might have laughed at the statement outright. "Michael betrayed the people he was closest to. That includes both of us. It's not just Clark we're up against now, Marcus. We're up against all the information in John's head. The game just got a hell of a lot harder."
"Susan, you don't know that the captain will talk."
Her head shook in frustration. "Clark's got the Psi Corps at his disposal, and John can't tell if he's being scanned." Taking a deep breath, she abruptly cut off her own tirade. She ran her hands over her bound hair in an effort to cover the hesitation. "You're right, it's not personal. But in my book, this is about as close at it gets."
She turned her back to him as another tear worked its way down her cheek. Praying he didn't see, she quickly wiped it away. I just wish this time didn't hurt so damned much.
"One thing I don't understand," he began as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Would you please explain to me why you seem to think I would want to betray you?"
She slowly closed her eyes, her stomach sinking as she realized that her runaway mouth had gotten her into trouble yet again. He's only trying to help your sorry excuse for a self, Ivanova. How can you lead a fleet if you can't even trust your best friend?
"I'm sorry, Marcus," she sighed. "I didn't mean that you would-"
"I mean, it's nice to finally find out you care and all," he said in a lighter tone. "Though I'm sure there are probably better ways of putting it."
A soft smile touched her lips as she turned around. "Rescuing me from myself again?"
"It's a nasty job, but I suppose someone has to do it."
She watched as he stepped back over to the bed she had been attempting to occupy. Within seconds, he had somehow managed to rig the bed into the elusive horizontal position. His palm remained on the surface as he turned his attentions back to where she stood. He acknowledged the amazed expression on her face with a wide smile. "Little trick I picked up from an old friend. It'll hold long enough for you to get a few hours' rest."
"You're sure the other end won't collapse?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"Positive. Anything else you need?"
Shaking her head, she stared at the still-horizontal bed.
"Well, then," he said, turning back toward the door. "My job here is finished. I'll wake you in four hours."
"Marcus," she called, catching him at the doorway.
"Yes?"
With a warm smile, she crawled onto the bed. True to his word, it felt like it would hold for hours. "Thank you."
"Like I said, something an old friend taught me."
"Not just for this," she said, gesturing toward the bed.
"Then for what?"
She was thankful for the lowered lighting. It hid the warmth flooding her features. Somehow, the blush found a way to manifest itself in her voice. "Everything."
He looked to her as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself short. Instead, he gave her a soft smile, nodded once, and left her alone in the darkness.
[FIN]