Games Rangers Play
Terri Osborne
(LtCmKieran@aol.com)
Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings are the property of JMS and Warner Brothers.
SPOILER WARNING: Contains spoilers for episodes up to 'The Summoning' as well as Book #9.
Content warning: Occasional adult language, some slightly sexual situations.
"He what?"
Susan Ivanova glared into Stephen Franklin's dark features, quite pleased at the fear she saw in the doctor's eyes.
"I don't know why, Susan," Stephen gulped. "We were talking about you, and he said something about putting and end to the games."
Icicles could have hung from her words. "What games?"
Throwing up his hands defensively, the doctor slowly backed away. "I don't know," he insisted. "All I know is it has something to do with you. That's it. Why don't you just-"
"Fine," she spat, stalking toward the Medlab door. "You won't tell me? I'll ask him myself."
"Susan, why don't you just calm down first?" the doctor called.
Her steps halted in the open doorway. Whirling around, she pointed directly at Stephen. "Because no one, and I mean no one, gets to have fun at my expense."
Especially when I don't even realize they're doing it.
A thin smile crossed her face as she heard Stephen's voice.
"We'd better get Marcus' bed ready."
*****
"All right! I have had it!" Susan Ivanova stalked into the tranquility of the Gardens with all of the calm of a low-grade hurricane. "Enough!" Coming to a halt a few feet inside the door, she whirled around to face the object of her anger. The sight of an empty archway only served to fuel her annoyance.
Where the hell is he?
"Cole! Get in here now!" A sharp nod punctuated her demand, causing a few stray locks of chocolate brown hair to fall into her face.
"Right here," he said dryly as he came around the corner. "Just waiting for Hurricane Susan to make landfall."
The lively twinkle in his eyes only served to infuriate her more. "Enough of the games, Marcus. They stop here, and they stop now."
"Games?" he asked, feigning innocence. "What games?"
Unable to decide between killing him on the spot, or the far more satisfying long and painful death, she shot him a cold look. "You know damn good and well what I mean."
"Ah, so you've finally noticed."
With a syrupy smile, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I've noticed all right, and it's going to stop right now."
"And your idea for accomplishing this would be?"
"A game," she challenged. "One last game."
"Of what?"
"Since you seem to enjoy them so much, I'll leave that choice up to you. Personally, I'd prefer something like boxing, work out some frustrations while I'm at it, but I'll leave it up to you."
"And the winner gets?"
Staring directly into his bright blue eyes, she made him an offer she knew he couldn't refuse. "Whatever they want from the other person."
"Whatever they want?" he slowly repeated.
"You heard me."
"You're sure about this?" he asked, almost as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.
"One-time offer, Marcus."
His eyes darkened dangerously. "All right. You've got a deal."
*****
"Poker," Susan grumbled, taking out her frustrations on the cards she was shuffling. "We could have at least gone to the casino. I can't believe I'm sitting in my own quarters playing poker over this! What possessed you?"
"An overwhelming need for self-preservation?" Marcus sarcastically suggested from across the table. "Or, possibly, a strong aversion to either of us occupying a bed in Medlab?"
"Keep it up and you may become a permanent resident. You thought that beating you got from Neroon was bad." Handing him the deck, she watched as he cut the cards. "Besides, I thought there was someone else you had plans for that involved beds?" she added with a snide smile as she began to deal.
"What?" he sputtered. "How did we get from Neroon to, well, that?"
"Your love life-"
"Yes!"
"-or lack thereof? Shut up and look at your cards."
Is it him you're really mad at?
Great. She had completely forgotten that her subconscious had timing that was about as good as her own.
You're just angry that you didn't pick up on this yourself. Something finally happened on this station that you didn't know about. Admit it.
Picking up the five cards in front of her, she tuned out her conscience and very carefully perused her fate. Two kings stared back at her, accompanied by two queens and an ace. Not a bad start, if she did say so herself. The things she would have done for a hand like this in New Vegas.
"Care for a card?" Syrup virtually dripped from her voice. She always enjoyed a well-planned case of revenge, but this was going to be different. Granted, it would have been faster to just adjust certain shower preferences, or mysteriously change the lock code to his quarters, but that would have been too easy. Nothing was ever that easy.
"Two," he calmly replied.
Absolutely nothing changed in his expression as he took in the two new cards. No gleam in the eye, no twitch of a smile, nothing to even give her a hint of what he thought of his hand. It suddenly occurred to her that he was treating this game with all of the gravity of someone whose future rode on the outcome.
And what if it does?
How could it? For that matter, what in the world had possessed her to bring up the mystery woman? Why did she get the feeling that this had something to do with her? Whoever she was, she was back home, not here, right?
What if this is home?
Now, there was a thought she hadn't seriously considered before. She had heard that he'd grown up on Arisia colony. She'd seen the ISN reports back then, something about a mechanical accident destroying the place.
That was only what, three, four years ago? Was that when he went to Minbar?
God knew how many other places he'd lived before he'd arrived on Babylon 5. She could still remember how much of a challenge it had been to find empty quarters for him. Had that really been over two years ago? That was hardly time enough to consider any place home was it?
When you don't have a home, it is. You should know that, Ivanova.
At least it told her that she was on the station. Great. Only a quarter of a million people to choose from. Talk about narrowing the field. At least she could rule out the methane-breathers.
You hope.
"Susan?"
"Yes, Marcus?" she asked, snapping her eyes up to meet his.
"Not going to draw any cards?"
Looking at her cards, she pulled the ace from the group and laid it on the table. "One." Drawing the single card, she placed it behind the kings and queens.
Too many possibilities rested on that one card. What if she hadn't drawn it? What if he won? What would he ask? Why all these games? The questions whirled within the realms of control as she slowly looked at her cards. One king stared back, then two kings.
Admit it, Ivanova, you want to know.
One queen appeared.
It's been bugging you for months, hasn't it?
The first queen moved aside to uncover the second queen.
Time to make a decision. Win this, and you can find out who she is. Lose it, and you find out what the games are all about. Either way, you get an answer you've been looking for.
With a deep breath, she slid aside the final card. A king. Full house. She'd drawn it. Fighting to keep her expression neutral, she pushed the cards back together and leaned back in her chair to size up her options. Which answer did she really want more?
"Ladies first," Marcus said evenly.
Her eyes drifted down to the cards for a moment, then back up to him. Staring into his eyes, she searched for any clue on what she should do. Until finally, her subconscious made the decision for her.
Keeping her eyes locked on his, she very slowly placed the cards back atop the deck. Maybe, just maybe, she could get both.
"Fold."
The total shock in his expression brought a smile to her face. "Fold?" he asked in disbelief.
"Fold," she stated. Pulling herself out of the chair, she walked across the small kitchen before turning around. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched as he still seemed to be trying to figure out what was happening.
"Susan, this whole thing was your idea. How can you fold?"
"I just did. You win."
He picked up the first few cards from the deck, the cards that had been in her hand. His eyes slowly grew wider with every card he saw. "Susan, why? You would have won."
"Doesn't matter now. I had a decision to make, and I made it. Ask away," she said with increasing dread.
"I don't know. How about another game?"
"Cut the white knight routine, Marcus. Get on with it."
Taking a deep breath, he stood and slowly walked over to the bar. "On one condition."
"What?"
"You ask yours, as well. You would have won, anyway."
Bingo.
"You're serious?" she asked, not quite believing what she was hearing.
"Yes," he said with a slight nod.
"Okay. It's a deal."
"Alright. What I want is the answer to a question."
"That's it?"
"If you'd let me finish," he said, gently scolding her. "Getting this answer is going to require you to venture into some dangerous territory."
A warning voice whispered in her head. "How dangerous?"
"Ah, you are the only one who can answer that particular question."
"Okay," she warily replied. This was certainly not going in the direction she had anticipated. "Where do I go?"
The warmth of the smile that slowly appeared was echoed in his voice, "Your own heart."
A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. "My heart?" she gulped.
"Your heart," he answered. "You remember it, that place you keep all of the worthwhile emotions, the ones that I have yet to see you let yourself experience?"
"Yes, I remember it," she replied sarcastically. "What's the question?"
"Okay, how," he began, "no, who, no that's not it, either." Shaking his head in frustration, he took a deep breath before commenting, "To think I've been trying to find a way to ask this all day."
"All day?"
"Well, actually longer than that."
She could have sworn that, for the briefest moment, she caught sight of a blush on his features. "How much longer?" When he hesitated a bit too long with a reply, her lack of patience elected to make its presence known. "Look, how about I help you ask?"
"Help me ask?"
"Yes," she said, brightening slightly at the idea herself. Maybe she could, in fact, painlessly get both answers. If she just played her cards right. "I'm assuming, of course, that it has something to do with you, right?"
He nodded.
"And it has to do with me?"
Pursing his lips, he slowly nodded once more.
"Okay, how's this. Does it have anything to do with her?"
"Her? Her who?"
"Your mystery lady."
"My what?" he asked in a voice edged with confusion.
Rolling her eyes, she leaned slightly toward him. "The one you were telling me about when we found that Vorlon fleet, remember? Little Miss Right waiting for you back home? Does this have anything to do with her?"
"Oh, her," he softly said, realization dawning on his expression. "Yes. Well, that would follow, then, wouldn't it?"
Not about to allow an opening like that pass, Susan went in for the proverbial kill. "You know, you never told me her name."
"What," he stammered, "why would you want to know that?"
"Not so fast, Cole. I'm not letting you off this time. That happens to be what I want. You told me to ask, I'm asking. I want her name." Susan had to force down the giggle at the sight of Marcus's expression.
He looks like somebody just asked him to take on the entire Shadow fleet alone.
"Her name?" he gulped. "You want her name?"
"And you have no choice but to give it to me."
He appeared to weigh the issue for a few seconds before turning his eyes toward the countertop. He mumbled a few words that sounded vaguely familiar, and seemed to steel himself for her response.
"I'm sorry, Marcus, but my ears don't register mumbling anymore. Broke me of it in OTC, I guess. Now, what did you say?" She was thoroughly enjoying watching him squirm, and wishing she could find a way to extend this little exercise, when she heard the clear reply.
"Her name is Susan Ivanova."
Her breath caught in her lungs as the words finally hit home. All of her anger drained away in an instant, only to be replaced by utter confusion, and just a touch of fear. She stared wordlessly across at him, her heart pounding as she tried to think of something, anything, to say that wouldn't seem trite.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally managed to collect herself. "So," she ventured hesitantly, "I suppose your question would probably be what I think about that?"
"That would be it, yes," he whispered.
"And you want me to answer you-"
"From your heart, yes."
"You have no idea what you're asking," she said, a tremor in her voice.
One eyebrow raised over his bright blue eyes. "Now who doesn't have any choice?" he challenged.
Slowly, she stepped over to the sofa, sinking into its soft cushions. From that somewhat safe refuge, she reluctantly did what he asked and opened a door that had been closed for too long. "Marcus," she began, "I trust you. That's a hard thing for me to say."
"You trust me?"
"With my life. When you told me about her," her voice trailed off as she tried to figure out how to say what she needed to say. "I've got to admit, I was a little jealous."
A wide smile broke across his features. "Susan Ivanova, jealous?"
"Yes. I know it's hard to imagine. Somehow, you managed to totally shatter the image I had of you."
He eyed her with a calculating expression. "Do I want to know what that image was?"
"Trust me," she managed dryly, "I respect you a lot more now."
"So, I've achieved respect and trust?"
A soft smile turned her lips. She knew what he wanted to hear, knew it was behind that door somewhere, but wasn't quite sure if she was ready to bring it out just yet. "Marcus," she said through a nervous giggle, "you've managed more than that. Much as I dread admitting it."
"Dread admitting it? I'm not that bad, am I?"
"No. You aren't."
He dropped onto the sofa beside her. "But you admit to being jealous," he said, appearing to enjoy the turning of the tables.
"Yes."
"Why?" he softly asked.
That was the real question, wasn't it? The single question for which she had never managed to find an acceptable answer. Oh, there was answer, but she had simply refused to acknowledge it.
She looked up and found those eyes of his aimed directly at her. She'd seen a lot of things reflected in that gaze over the years, emotions he'd been trying to cover at the time. Not now. What greeted her this time was the most heart rendingly tender gaze she had ever seen. He held her eyes as he reached out and softly brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
"You don't have to answer my question," he whispered. "At least not verbally."
"Huh?"
"Well, your reaction to one thing will answer the question just as well. If you're game?"
Narrowing her eyes, she studied him for a moment. "If I'm game?"
He nodded.
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Close your eyes."
"And?"
"You said you trusted me," he said, raising an eyebrow.
With a deep sigh, she did as he asked. In the darkness, her other senses began to come alive. She could hear him trying to control his breathing, feel his weight begin to shift on the sofa.
"Okay, what-" she began, interrupted only by the tentative appearance of his lips against hers.
"Susan," he whispered against her lips. "I love you."
No sooner did he have the words out than he finally covered her mouth with his. Her fingers hesitantly raised to brush his cheek before working their way into the black silk of his hair. She felt her insides begin to flutter as he surprised her yet again, the kiss growing deeper with each second. Parting her lips, his tongue began to explore the recesses of her mouth. She heard a soft groan escape his throat as he curled his fingers into the hair at her neck. Every nerve ending danced where the roughness of his beard met her skin. She had pulled her legs up to the seat underneath her, and now she could feel her toes involuntarily curling.
It caused her an almost physical pain when he pulled back. "Oh, my," she whispered, the succulent taste of him still on her lips. As if waking from a dream, she slowly opened her eyes. The only word she could find for what she saw in his deep blue eyes was seductive. Once she managed to wrestle her wildly beating heart into control, she started work on her breathing.
"Marcus," she began in a roughened voice. "I love you, too."
A drowsy smile inched onto his lips. "No," he teased, "I couldn't tell." Smoothing her tousled hair, he allowed his hand to linger on the softness of her cheek. "Now what?"
"That would be up to you," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, and his forehead came down against hers. His breath was warm against her face as he spoke. "Do you have any idea how tempting-"
She smiled as she felt him press a kiss to the fingertip that had quieted him. "Maybe we should wait a little bit. Make sure it's me you're waiting for."
With a low groan, he returned to his former spot on the sofa. "Susan, I've never been more sure of anything. But, you're right. Maybe we should wait."
"Just long enough for me to make it special for you," she assured him. Her smile widened as she noticed the blush creep into his cheeks. "Didn't think I'd remember?"
"Not that," he began, pulling himself off of the sofa. "I just never thought that far ahead."
"You didn't think that far ahead? Why not?"
"I was beginning to think you'd never catch on," he quipped. Extending a hand, he pulled her up to stand before him. "When did you?"
"Catch on, or realize how I felt?"
"Either."
She looked up into his eyes, and stepped away from him. If she stayed there, she found she couldn't guarantee her actions. "When did I catch on?" she asked as she stepped toward the kitchen, trying to cover her hesitation. "Tonight. I really did think you were talking about someone else. When did I realize how I felt? Probably when you told me about her and I figured out that I was jealous. You?"
"The day the captain introduced us," he said, deadly serious. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I could ask you the same question," she said with a nod. It was then that his statement registered in her mind. "Wait a minute, since the day the captain introduced us? You mean you've been trying to tell me for two years?"
Marcus simply nodded.
"Well," she wisecracked, "it wouldn't be you if I weren't trying to figure something out."
He moved toward her, looking down into her eyes. "I wasn't sure how you felt, and Stephen mentioned something about a bar you personally cleared out one night a few years ago because someone called you -- what was it --"
"A very drunken smuggler calling me cute?" she offered.
"Yes."
"You mean you were afraid of me?"
"Having never been beaten by a woman I loved before," he said, his voice dissolving into a soft chuckle.
She reached up and tentatively touched his cheek. "I don't think I could hurt you. But I can see how the possibility exists."
He briefly lowered his mouth to cover hers, but backed away after a brief flirtation with her lips. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me."
"Good," she said with a smile. She nodded toward the door. "Then you'd better go before I find a reason to keep you here."
"As you wish, love."
She walked him to the door, indulging in a goodnight kiss that rivalled their first. She watched his retreating form wander down the hallway, her mind pondering the possibilities for their first night together.
Yes, sometimes you won the game, and sometimes you won the match.
[FIN]