He stumbled back in his quarters, staggering he fell into his only piece of furniture beside the bed - a large overstuffed chair that looked far more comfortable then it actually was. He pulled one leg over the arm and pressed himself into its corner.
With a sigh, he sank into the cushions wishing once more he had an actual couch, his legs were much to long to try to curl up in this, and the bed, well the bed was at least 5 agonizing steps further away. The chair would work for now, thank you very much.
He pulled his hands over his face pulling at it tiredly, his body ached, his head hurt - he was even pretty sure his little toe hurt. He wished he had a shower. A shower would certainly help to make him feel better and maybe stop that infernal ringing inside his head. What was that taste in his mouth anyway? He didn't remember ingesting that.
A burst of light rushed in behind his eyelids and the sound of his doors being opened.
He opened them with a start, it's intensity only pained him more, he grimaced and let out an involuntarily objection. "What the hell?"
Even in his state he could clearly tell it was Susan Ivanova. Her figure had been burned in his brain for the last two years. Silhouetted by the light of the hall behind her, she held a PPG low at her waist. "Are you alone?" She snapped out looking side to side within his quarters.
"I would hope so. What in the hell are you doing here?" he grunted squinting past the pain in his head into the blinding light.
"Checking on you. We got a signal someone had entered here but you didn't answer the doorbell," she said flatly entering, holstering her PPG. "Are you OK?"
"That's a matter of definition," he said finally moving a hand to shield his eyes from the light. "Something wrong?"
"We've been looking everywhere for you for the past 18 hours," she said coming to his side, the door thankfully closed, returning it to near pitch darkness. She caught a glimpse of him before . Horror evident on her face, she knelt at his side to get a better look at him. "You look like hell. What the hell did they do to you?" Her concern was not lost to him.
"Nothing. I helped a bit this time," he let a slow smile creep out.
Ivanova cringed, finally getting a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk?"
"Bingo," he smiled, pointing his finger and touching the tip of her nose.
"Bingo?" she asked, raising one perfect eyebrow. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"Never better," he said slowly rising to his feet with a weary smile. "You were worried," he softly stated, it wasn't a question, merely an observation.
She ignored his observation and replied with an unemotional tone. "Word from Franklin was that you were headed to the Minbari leaders looking for more."
"Yes. We had some business to attend to still, yes."
"After what they did to you?"
"I had to," he mumbled. "For myself. We did it the 'human way' this time." Actually, this way had been harder. It was too natural. His defenses fell easily and talked out everything that was on his mind. He was glad Turval hadn't thought of it earlier.
"Oh really? What's the human way?"
"Going to a bar and drinking heavily, of course." He smiled.
"I thought Minbari couldn't drink."
"'Shouldn't' and 'couldn't' are different animals entirely," he quipped filling a large cup with water and drinking it down. "I lost count of how much Junkto he'd had somewhere around explaining the fall of Rome, or something," he rambled mindlessly, god but his head did hurt.
Whereas Earth-style alcohol made Minbari violent, Sha'kaar Junkto, on the other hand, made them one hell of a good time. It was alcoholic to Minbari but unlike earth alcohol it didn't disagree with Minbari constitutions. It was rather a lot like Tequila but without the nasty side effects like throwing people through walls or sleeping with your best friend's wife. The joyously hedonistic Romans couldn't hold a candle to a Minbari hopped up on Junkto.
It was a primarily Warrior caste drink, made from the berries and barks of several Minbari trees. It tasted like a cross of lemons, licorice and old feet, simply awful as far as Marcus was concerned. He however drank whiskey, a real warriors drink. The drink of his forefathers.
He freed his body from the pretzel he'd carefully twisted himself into and stood wobbily. She instinctively shot out a hand to help him steady himself. "Geeze. Did you leave any IN the bottle?"
"I'm sure I left a bit in one of them," he smiled proudly, then it dimished to a sheepish smirk. "We had a lot to talk about. Seems I repress a lot until the glasses come out."
"Been there, done that," she said drolly pulling back her hand waiting for him to fall over. "So, what happened to your foot?" she frowned watching him limp around the kitchen and back into the living area.
He stopped to think. He remembered something about an one-armed pike contest, "Uhm, I forget," he lied. It had been VERY late in the evening and he only really recalled both being really bad at it in their current states and the sounds of things breaking and riotous laughter. He was sure he'd be reminded later with some sort of exorbitant bill.
She stood back up, straightening her uniform, "Well, now that you're OK, I should go."
He caught here blue eyes and held them intensely with his own. "Wait."
She froze. She knew he'd do this, that's why she was trying to make a quick getaway. She turned back and faced him forcing her voice to be cool. "What?"
"Don't you want to why I did it?" He walked slowly towards her. "Why I went back?"
"Isn't that kinda' personal? I mean like some sort of Ranger/teacher confidentiality agreement?"
"Not if you want to know," he said catching her eyes with his again and holding them tight. His voice was husky, and tired. "Do you want to know?"
"Sure," she stammered pulling hers away to look at the floor. "Fire away."
"Because I never finished anything in my life," he said quickly.
She looked side to side not quite believing. "That's it?"
"Isn't it enough? I thought it was rather profound myself given my condition."
"Well, I suppose. I just thought it would be something more, I don't know, mysterious or ..."
"Romantic?" he interjected.
She could feel her cheeks redden to a blush. "Yeah, something like that."
"Sorry. Truth is, I have a habit of putting things off till the bad stuff happens and I never get to finish it. It's the guilt of the 'what ifs' that take you out at the knees."
She felt her heart began to pound, her ears rang. She knew the 'what ifs' all too well. She took a step back. "I better go, really, Corwin will be waiting for his relief."
"I imagine he'll be more relieved without you, poor lad." he said with a smile slowly advancing on her. Susan backed away equally slow, matching his pace.
"If I had told you earlier how I felt then I never would have been afraid of not being able to tell you later and never would have done what I did in fear of not finishing what I never had a chance to." His brow furrowed seeing her trying to comprehend what he said. "Does that make sense?"
She stumbled through her brain for words. She nodded thoughtfully. "You realized all this tonight? What the hell were you drinking? Where do I get some?" She cringed at her usual self preservation method - sarcasm.
He let out a bemused smirk. "Sounded better over glasses I'll admit, but it's true. As much as Flint deserved what he got, I did it for me. I was afraid about failing once more, and I didn't want to fail again without even having a chance to try."
She nodded slowly. Susan realized she now was backed up against the wall, she put on her game face. She knew he was asking for her help to finish this.
"So tell me already before someone else has to die." She was joking and his sheepish laugh told her he knew it.
She froze as he leaned forward and his lips brushed hers. It was just a second's touch that sent her spiraling. He pulled away before it really got going. It wasn't sloppy, or lusty as the hallway had been, or any kiss she'd ever remembered having. It was almost pure and left her infinitely touched by it's eloquence. He didn't need to say anything else.
She reached out placing her hands around his neck and pulled him back, her mouth capturing his lazily. He wrapped his lean arms around her and held on tight. He tasted like whiskey but she didn't care, the kisses grew more arduous. Fingers caressing faces and tangling in hair,
"Marcus?" The voice of Lennier could clearly be heard coming from the babcom. "Marcus are you there?"
They were out of range of the babcom camera so neither moved. "Ignore him, he'll go away." he murmured past her lips.
"That's what I said about you," she whispered back. He let out a muffled chuckle.
"Marcus?" the Minbari aide called again.
He pulled his mouth away. "GO AWAY DAMN YOU!" he reverberated loud enough for it to carry to the babcom.
"You have a package. Johanssen has arrived," Lennier said simply, then severed the connection. Marcus pulled away. She released her grip on him.
"Who's Johanssen?" she asked seeing the dark cloud begin to pass over his face.
"The man with our answers."
-----
They entered the war room en masse -Marcus, Susan, John, Delenn, and Zack. The Ranger sat next to Lennier at the end of the table with a flimsy flat on the table in front of him. Marcus was suddenly aware of how awful he felt. He'd arrived home to find Susan breaking in, and now this. He really needed a shower, a big meal, and some sleep. He didn't see either happening soon. He'd thankfully popped a few oxytabs on the way out the door, he needed to at least appear to be cognizant.
Lennier and Delenn acknowledged the Ranger silently and took seats to his side. The rest filed in and filled the remaining spots. Susan went out of her way to NOT sit next to him, he smiled to himself.
"I was told this was a private issue, Entil'Zha," he asked Delenn hesitantly. The Ranger haltingly looking to all the strange faces of those he did now know.
"There have been some 'developments' since you were dispatched. Please continue," she said softly urging the man.
He nodded curtly, pushing outwards towards her. "It's all there. It took some doing I'll tell you, but I managed to work my way into banking records and track the payments. Twelve over several months in varying amounts, from different subsidiaries of the same organization. They almost hid it from me – almost." There was an unmistakable prideful overtone which Marcus did not fail to miss. The man took pride in his accomplishments, as he did, and the harder they were the better.
Delenn rose, crossing her hands and bowing, "You may go Anla'shok, we won't be needing you, and I'm sure you'd like to rest." The man nodded politely. "May Valen guide you."
Marcus and Lennier joined in. Crossing their thumbs into the familiar triangular pattern, they bowed murmuring Minbar words of respect, and greeting in religious caste tongue. The Ranger Johanssen rose, straight backed and departed escorted by Lennier.
Delenn then looked to Susan giving unspoken permission to take it. She inhaled deeply and rose. She took the flimsy from in front of Delenn and popped it in the reader at the end of the table.
Her brow furrowed, Marcus could see her scrolling through skimming the information determinedly until she found the name she was looking for. She stilled, finding it.
"Who is it?" John Sheridan asked quietly.
Marcus knew more by watching Susan, than asking could have told him alone, he knew her body language so well. This was bad.
She did not turn, her head still held high but rigid, when she finally spoke it was mixed with quiet rage and fear. "Malcolm Biggs." Delenn's face marked the name recognition, and only looked at the table in disbelief. Everyone else was confused.
Marcus didn't know who this Malcolm was, but he suddenly felt the familiar urge to smash him through a hull in the smallest opening possible. He struggled to remind himself that his wants to protect her was how he got here to begin with.
Finally Susan turned, exposing her face. She was ashen, and her eyes were red. "Excuse me," she said dispassionately setting down the remote and stalking out.
Marcus squirmed uncomfortably wanting to rush to her, but knowing doing so would only anger her more. So he let her leave, he had a pretty good idea where she was going. He'd give her a few minutes to break a few things first. She looked like she needed it.
"Alright." Marcus spoke up, "I'm fairly new here, I'll admit. So, who is this Malcolm Biggs, anyway?" He looked firmly from person to person not liking the unyielding silence there.
John took a hesitant breath in, and rolled the pen in his hand between his fingers. "Susan's Ex, from Io, I believe. I only met him once."
"Ex? Her XO?" he asked, certain he meant Executive Officer.
"No, ex. Uhm, for lack of a better word, boyfriend. It was a long time ago. It ended rather badly as I recall."
"Yes," Delenn spoke up finally. "He arrived before you were assigned here, attempting a reconciliation as they had parted ways evidentially years before. It was then we began to suspect he was with what you call the "Home Guard" and recent alien attacks on the station could be attributed to his influence."
"HomeGuard? I had the pleasure of 'dealing' with some on Mars a few months back. Lovely fellows for a bunch of sniveling racists," he said sarcastically, but remembered they weren't going to be up for a lot of meetings once he'd finished with them. They'd been in his way in getting from here to there. No one got in his way when there was a job to be done.
"He came to recruit members amongst the staff to gain assistance and access in executing simultaneous assassinations of all the Resident Ambassadors. Commander Ivanova was key in his capture and arrest as I recall, and a witness in the Trial," Delenn finished. "As was I."
"I imagine he just got out of prison and wanted to settle the score. Three years, out early on good behavior I imagine, timing seems about right." Sheridan nodded, then rose, "Ok, I should go talk to her."
Marcus suddenly had a very bad feeling, and jumped to his feet as well. "I'll do it. I got her in to this."