Title : ...and a Happy New Year
Author: Jo Taylor
Part 5 of 7
Pairing: Marcus/Ivanova sort of
Rating: General
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JMS, the idea belongs to me!!
Authors notes: Well, this was supposed to be a light-hearted follow up to Merry Xmas; it didn't end up that way g
Feedback most welcome
… and a Happy New Year pt 5
After two days of intensive searching, Garibaldi and his team returned defeated. Not only had Shaker managed to slip through their fingers; but also no trace had been found of Marcus - dead or alive. The bloody trail had petered out half way down a dingy corridor. Scuff marks made by many feet erased the faint drops as the trail entered a well-travelled part of the sector. The search teams had entered every nook and cranny they could find, turning up a welter of illegal activities. Enough to keep them in paperwork for some months to come; but of Marcus they learned nothing.
The three weary persons gathered in Garibaldi's security office sat in dejected silence. There was nowhere else to look. Only two options offered themselves, and neither one was pleasant. Firstly, Marcus may have been spirited off of the station somehow. Although unlikely in the extreme it was a better thought than the one currently occupying everyone at that moment. Had Marcus' body been disposed of, leaving no trace? Bodies had disappeared before, later to be found in small pieces tucked away in the darker areas of the station.
Unfortunately the second option seemed the more likely, and as Susan made her way slowly back to her cabin she felt the churning sense of hopelessness enfold her. Marcus, although he annoyed the hell out of her, had become a significant part of her life. His cheery demeanour, though sometimes out of place, could always be relied upon. And his quirky way of looking at the world was sometimes all that could pull her out of the gloom that was wont to enter her soul.
***
Naomi's voice called him back from the depths of his dreamless state. And he was glad of it; the nothingness that had held him captive was more frightening than any nightmare.
"Marcus?" Small fingers got a grip on his hand, tugging with surprising strength on his left arm. Pain shot through him and he yelped at the suddenness of it.
Maggie entered swiftly, tutting at the little girl and ordering her, in the calmest way, not to annoy her patient. As she leaned over him, the faint wash of lavender wafted toward him. The same perfume his grandmother wore. One white hand felt his brow, and she smiled, then pinched his cheek as she looked gently down at him. Treating him more like a child than the rigorously trained Ranger that he was. He felt his own answering grin and the bubble of laughter welling within him, and enjoyed the moment.
"Now, you want to know where you are, I am sure. And who I am, how Naomi reached me and all sorts of other things, am I right?" Her calm acceptance seemed no more out of place than anything else did in this strange sanctuary.
"First, my name is Margaret; Maggie to my friends. This is my home, and has been for the last six years. My boys found you, bleeding heavily, in a rather nasty part of the station. They brought you here to me. From your clothing I would say you are a Ranger? At least, I have never encountered anyone else who could own a Minbari fighting pike."
For a moment he panicked. He remembered the fight, and he knew that he had felled one assailant, but he had no recollection of retracting or, for that matter, retrieving his weapon. All this must have shown on his face. Maggie laid a hand on his arm, and shook it gently. "Don't worry, I have it safe, and it will be returned to you when you leave. You have no need for it here."
"You don't understand. The..." his voice stumbled as he held back the expletive he had so nearly uttered. "The people who attacked my friend and I must have realised that I was helped by someone. They have excellent sources in down below. If it is possible, they will come after me. I must leave soon. All the time I am here I am putting you in great danger."
"Don't worry yourself about it, my dear boy. Now, Naomi," she called the youngster to her side, wrapping her in a warm hug. "Naomi here, found herself alone and in need of my help. She ran away from the people looking after her, she won't tell me why." Worry echoed softly in her calm voice.
"Maybe I know the answer to that." Marcus' voice was gentle as his fingers reached out to the young girl, softly caressing her cheek. He dropped his hand quickly as pain lanced through his shoulder and down his back. He tried to move and a second stab shot into his lower back.
"Do be careful, dear. It took a bit of work to sew you back together, I'd rather you didn't undo all my handiwork." Maggie got up and fetched something from the shelf by the door. "You might want this as a souvenir."
In her hand lay a six-inch knife; its thin blade gleamed in the overhead lighting. Razor sharp edges glistened wickedly as she turned it over. "You probably didn't even feel it enter," she mused. He nodded agreement. He had felt a blow to his back but the premise that he might have been stabbed had not occurred to him. In the general melee he had assumed that he had backed into a crate or that his assailant had made a lucky hit.
"It missed your kidney by millimetres. You, my young man, are a very lucky person even if you have been in the wars lately."
The old fashioned expression again reminded him of his grandmother and kinder times. "Maggie, I do have to leave, as soon as possible. And I'll take Naomi with me, her parents need to know she is still alive."
Naomi, hearing her name, had looked up, but at mention of her parents she let out a small exclamation of fear.
"Not going back. Not! Maggie, don't let them take me." The child buried her face in the old woman's lap, and sobbed until she could cry no more.
Maggie and Marcus exchanged looks. "I'll tell you what I think happened." Marcus said softly. "Perhaps when this little one is asleep. It is not the sort of tale a child should hear, even if she were a part of that story." Maggie nodded as she held the weeping Naomi closer, soothing her with soft words and gentle hands.
"Sleep, Marcus. I'll wake you later with some food, and we can talk." Her words acted like a Pavlovian bell on his senses, and soon his eyes closed, his breathing evened out as sleep, almost against his will, took him.
Amazingly, when next he awoke, the dull pain that had previously suffused him was gone. Sometime during his sleep someone, and he presumed it to be Maggie, had changed his dressings. The sweet smell of antibiotics permeated the air, and his fingers, when they had finished a gentle inspection of his wounds, came away smelling of the same mixture. Whatever she had used it far outdid the painkillers Stephen had pumped him full of.
With time on his hands until his benefactress should return Marcus began to give serious consideration to all that had occurred. Until now, the woman's mere presence seemed to hold back his naturally suspicious nature. There was so much he did not understand. How had he reached this place for a start? She had mentioned her 'boys', but they could hardly be children who had found and removed him. And what had she meant by saying the lost and needy found their way to her?
Almost on command, Maggie entered the room, flanking her were two of the most stalwart men he had ever seen. Each stood well over six feet and was muscled well above the average build. Seams bulged along their tight fitting jackets, material stretched over powerful thighs.
"Marcus, how lovely to see you awake. I'd like you to meet my boys; this is John," she indicated the huge man on her left who gave a courteous nod of the head. "And this is Mark." The dark-haired man on her right also nodded, and added a small smile of welcome.
"These are the ones who found me?"
Maggie nodded, and looked with pride at the two hulking figures who dwarfed her tiny body.
"I'd like to offer my thanks to you both. Anything I can ever do for you, don't hesitate to ask." He held out a hand to them and stared as they exchanged glances then chuckled with silent mirth. They did approach and each took his hand gingerly in their own. Leaving quickly with Maggie's reproaches in their ears.
"I'm sorry about that, Marcus. Your offer was kindly made."
"Well you never know. I might be able to repay you all at some time." He had the feeling that this woman needed nothing to add to her life, that she was the one who normally provided for others.
"Now," she said, settling beside him, "tell me about Naomi."
"When he had finished relating all that he knew, and much that he supposed, Maggie looked away from him, contemplating all that she had heard.
"Something must be done Marcus. This man must be stopped. To steal children from loving homes..." Her distress moved him, and he laid his hand on hers.
"I have every intention of stopping him. I feel great and I think I should be up and gone. He has to be somewhere on the station. I'll find him, and then we will have a little chat about his activities." His tone trailed off into a menacing whisper, quickly suppressed.
"They are already searching the station. I had presumed for you." Maggie mused out loud. "Perhaps they are looking for Mr Shaker also."
She shook her head decidedly. "You, will remain here. I won't have you undoing all my good work by needlessly running around." She held up a peremptory hand. "Don't argue. My boys will find Shaker, and we can talk to him together. Perhaps you could talk to Naomi for me," she changed the subject quickly, sensing his antipathy to her suggestion.
The little girl came when called and took Maggie's seat beside the ranger. Her cheery smile did much to lift his spirits, but he was determined to leave as soon as he had the chance.
"Will you look after Marcus for me, Naomi? I have a few things to do. I know you will take good care of him for me." With a smile she left the two to talk.
"It's nice to finally talk to you, Naomi. I heard you call," he tapped his forehead lightly, "a few days ago."
The blonde head ducked from his gaze, and she bit her lip; little fingers fiddled with the sheet draped over him, plucking at the soft material.
"Naomi?"
She looked up at him again with eyes that were way too old for her young face. "I'm not supposed to do that. You won't tell anyone will you?"
"Of course not," he lied with aplomb. Or did that constitute a lie? After all he had already told her secret.
"They are not my mummy and daddy. At least I don't think they are." Her voice wavered uncertainly, and she was all child again. "I think I remember being with other people, nice people. And I remember you. You were nice to me when no one else would talk to us. You didn't mind that I was different."
His expression softened as he took her hand in his own. She grinned up at him. "Your eyes smile." Again that oddly adult slant on life that sat so incongruously on her little face.
"Can you tell me where you have been? Your parents, your real mother and father, have been looking for you for a long time. And other little girls and boys have been lost too. Did you see anyone else, Naomi?"
Tears trembled unshed on her long lashes as she shook her head. "Mustn't tell. They said I would be punished if I told. Like talking to you up here," she indicated her forehead. "It hurts when they don't like what I have done."
"No-one will hurt you now, sweetheart. I promise. Come here."
Naomi clambered up onto the bed with him, and was immediately enfolded in his arms. She snuggled next to him, tiny hands tangled in the bedclothes as she burst into tears. Suddenly Marcus was awash with her feelings, her fears and terrors. He held her tighter, soothing her as best he could as she spoke, words tumbling from her as though a dam had burst. Her past flickered in a disorientating display through his mind. She leapt from one incident to another with a randomness that was dizzying. Her recollections hardened his heart even further. The child had been subjected not to physical cruelty beyond the odd slap, but she had been secluded, isolated for hours at a time. Hidden away from the world when her latent telepathy had been discovered. He could imagine how the new adoptive parents had reacted to having bought a millstone like Naomi - for PsiCorp would track down any telepath wherever they were found.
When she finally stopped speaking, she lay exhausted in his arms. Maggie returned to find her sound asleep, cradled against Marcus whose eyes blazed with a fury that only grew because he could not immediately spring into action.
"Did she tell you anything," Maggie whispered.
He nodded, tight-lipped. "Did you find Shaker?"
"My boys have him tucked away. We can talk to him later. Marcus, there are security personnel scouring the station for you. I think you had best return to your friends tomorrow. Do you want me to let them know you are well?"
It seemed she understood his personality with bare hours acquaintance, for he did not want anyone's interference in the vengeance he was about to exact. Stephen and the others could fret one day longer. His thoughts turned to Susan, but he turned his mind away. Susan had never indicated she felt more than tolerance for him, it was doubtful she was too worried about his disappearance. He sighed and shook his head. "I think not, Maggie," he said softly. "There are things I need to do before I return."
"The celebrations tomorrow might be a fitting time to go back."
"Celebrations?"
"The humans are still holidaying. Tomorrow is the start of a New Year. I hope it is a better one for us all." The old lady's voice seemed troubled as she added, "yes, I do hope what I fear will not come to pass."
"Can you put Naomi to bed? I would like to get dressed, that is, if you'll let me up now?" His grin pleaded for her sympathy at his plight.
Her calm gaze considered him reflectively. "I'll take Naomi then check you over. If, and only if, I am satisfied you are able to manage then I'll return your clothes and your weapon. Do we understand each other." For she had seen the mutinous set of his mouth. He nodded reluctantly.
She was true to her word. The sleeping child made no protest as Maggie removed her to her own bed and she was soon back. Marcus sat straight as he could, bare legs dangling over the side of the bed as Maggie checked his wounds. Wincing at the removal of med patches, he barely flinched as her fingers searched around the stitches in his back. His mind was lost in meditation, removing the sense of pain that she elicited. It would not last long, but long enough to make it through her examination - he hoped.
"Your self control is excellent, Marcus." She helped him to his feet and watched him as he tried to reorientate himself. "Your teachers would be proud of you."
"Do I pass?" The fact that she saw right through him was no surprise, this woman was too perceptive, and a force to be reckoned with he realised.
"You'll do. You heal fast, which is lucky for you. I would advise against anything too strenuous for a week or two. You are not indestructible, remember that please."
He had the oddest urge to snap a salute and refrained himself with difficulty. "My clothes?"
Dressing was harder than he had expected. Even with Maggie's help it took three times longer than usual. The vague embarrassment at being dressed by her faded rapidly, and he was more than grateful for her supporting arm by the end of it. His fingers wrapped themselves around his pike with care. He examined it for damage, warned her to stand back as he extended then retracted its length. Satisfied that it had sustained no damage he fixed it back to his belt with a sigh.
"It means a lot to you? The weapon?"
He considered his answer, he had never really thought about the place it held in his life. "No," he began thoughtfully. "No, not the denn'Bok itself, though it is an ancient weapon that has been handed down from Ranger to Ranger. It is more what it represents, of what I represent as the holder of the pike. It is hard to put into words how I feel about my calling."
"You don't need to, my dear boy. It shines in your eyes whenever you speak of it. Come, let us go and talk to Mr Shaker."
***
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