A Place to Call Home
By Terri Osborne
terri@terriosborne.com
Part 10
All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)
Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.
Content Warning: [AC] [AL]
Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.
A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief will show up here.
Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).
And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!
My apologies to the "No 'I love you's" contingent, because there is one in here. I hope I've set it up well enough for you all to accept its presence.
----------
March 28, 2264
Susan pulled the blankets
up to her chin, staring at the ceiling for what she was convinced would be the last time
as the sleeping pill began to take effect. Ten hours, quite possibly all the time she had
left on the Valkyrie, and she would be damned if she were going into the next phase
of this assignment on less than eight hours of sleep.
The next thing she knew, she
was in a beautiful room with walnut brown walls. Gold leaf decorated the wooden columns in
each wall. Sunlight shone brightly through the wide windows. The tapestry-covered
furniture and ornate wooden flooring brought it all back. "Menshikov Palace."
"Yes," came the
reply. She turned to find Marcus standing in the doorway. As he stepped into a beam of
sunlight, she noticed the wide smile on his features. "Thought you might like
someplace else familiar."
She chuckled at that.
"First Kazan Cathedral, now here. What are you trying to do, take a full-blown tour
of Saint Petersburg?"
"You did say you wanted
to come back here after the War," he shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of
his dark trousers. "I was curious. Interesting place, this. You know, there's a
statue out by the main staircase-"
"Marcus," she
interrupted, "I'm sorry. I'm just not up to this right now." Her steps led her
toward a corner, and the small seat beneath one window. Its glass depicted the peaceful
land surrounding the Palace.
When had her dreams been so
vivid?
"What's wrong?" he
asked, lowering himself into the windowseat in the adjoining wall. "I've never seen
you like this."
Pulling her legs up beside
her, she huddled in the small seat, making no response. She hadn't yet grown
accustomed to this version of the man she had known. He sat in the windowseat patiently,
sunlight reflecting a bright white off of the simple shirt he wore. His deep green eyes
sparkled in that same light.
"Susan?"
"I may have just thrown
it all away, Marcus. The Valkyrie, my life, all of it. I just hope to God I can get
through this one alive." She looked into those eyes, fighting the thoughts they
evoked. "Have you ever had a secret that was so important you'd die to keep it?"
His mouth twisted wryly.
"This is me you're talking to, remember?"
"More important than
love, Marcus. I'm talking about the kind of secret you can't even tell yourself for fear
someone around you is a telepath and might hear you thinking about it."
Reaching out, he took her hand
into both of his. The warmth was a welcome sensation against her flesh. "I don't
think anyone will find out if you tell me.".
"You do have a
point," she said.
He waited a few silent moments
before prompting, "Well?"
The echo of her mother's voice
rang in her ears.
Tell no one.
Tell no one.
"It's Lyta," she
whispered, trying to find the right place to start. "She's started a full-blown war
against the Psi Corps."
"Earthforce hasn't gotten
into the fray?"
She shook her head. "Not
yet. Right now, it's telepath against telepath."
"Yet, you're
involved," he said, his voice serious. "How?"
"They've assigned me to
stop her." Her anxiety began to turn into a familiar calm as she began explaining the
situation. On top of everything else, Marcus had been her only second-in-command. After
two years on her own, it was nice to have that familiar sounding board back, even if it
was only in her dreams. "I've tracked her down to a base on Mars. She's working with
Garibaldi somehow. The only thing is, the official reports coming out of there say she's
not commanding the movement anymore."
He gave her a soft smile.
"You should know better than to believe official reports, Susan. Who do they say is
running things now?"
Ignoring the scolding, she
smiled widely. She was going to enjoy his reaction to this. "Does the name Alina
Minette ring a bell?"
He shook his head.
"Well, how about Liana
Stewart?"
Surprise lit his eyes for a
few seconds. His jaw dropped slightly, before he pulled himself back together.
"Liana? Impossible. She's been dead for at least fifteen years."
"Not according to what
I've seen," she replied. "Those official reports you just told me not to
believe, they had a sketch of the new resistance leader. This Alina Minette bears an uncanny
resemblance to a woman who just visited B5 a few weeks ago, a woman who was carrying Liana
Stewart's identicard."
Marcus sat back onto the
windowseat, obviously stunned.
"That's not all of it,
Marcus. I've got a meeting with them tomorrow."
"That why you're leaving
your ship?"
She nodded. "Yes. I've
managed to talk Major Ryan into believing that since Lyta and I are old friends it might
be good for me to work from the inside."
"You're joining up?"
he asked, his expression suggesting she had grown a third arm.
"Yes."
"But, you just said it's
telepath against tele-." He broke off, realizing what was happening. "That's the
secret, isn't it? You're a telepath."
"Latent," she
breathed, praying to God that he would understand.
He stood, beginning to slowly
pace the room. "Liana. In Valen's name. Susan, if she's alive . . ."
"Why do I get the feeling
there's something you're not telling me?"
"Well, I'm telling you
now," he said. "Susan, if she's alive, be careful. I've known her since she was
five years old. She can be very dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than you. She
almost killed me once without even really trying."
"What? How?" she
asked, not quite certain she wanted to hear the answer.
"When I was fifteen, she
actually taught me how to use a sword. She was born back on Earth, in London. She started
studying her heritage and found out that one of her ancestors was a lord back in medieval
England. She became fascinated with anything that had to do with that era. One of the
metal workers on the colony did her a favor and made her a sword for her thirteenth
birthday. She begged him to make me one, said she needed a sparring partner."
"What about your
brother?"
He shook his head. "Will
was too young. He couldn't have lifted the thing. So she taught me how to use it. We were
sparring one day and she got me through the side. I was in the hospital for a week while
it healed. Ribs were the only things keeping her from getting my lung. If she's anything
like the girl I knew, she's a fighter, Susan. And a damned good one. I'd certainly rather
go into a fight with her than some of the other Rangers I knew." He softly laughed.
"Neroon wouldn't stand a chance."
One nagging fact came into her
mind. "Psi Corps doesn't have an Alina Minette on record. Should they be looking for
Liana?"
"They won't find her,
either."
"So, she is a
normal?"
A soft, nervous laugh escaped
him. "Normal? As in not a telepath? Love, you couldn't be more wrong. I suppose it's
only fitting that she's teamed up with Lyta. Lyta's the only telepath I've ever seen who
was on Liana's level."
Susan's stomach sank.
"What? What do you mean on Liana's level?"
"Just that," he
replied. "The Psi Corps finally found her when she was sixteen. When they tested her,
she tested right off of both the telepathic and telekinetic scales."
"She's both?"
He nodded. "And she has
been since the age of five. That's what makes her so dangerous. She had her entire
childhood to learn how to use her gifts, even refine her skills. She's a wonderful girl,
Susan. Dangerous, but utterly reliable. I'd trust her with my life."
"But, the Corps never got
a hold of her?"
"I don't think so. You
see, the ship she was on exploded on its way back to Earth. I was told there were no
survivors."
Susan shook her head, still
assimilating the information. "I suppose the real question here is where's she been
all these years?"
"I'd certainly love to
hear the answer to that," he said, rising from the windowseat. Two short steps took
him to a small chest of drawers. He stared at the rich wooden surface for what felt like
an eternity. "Susan?"
"Yes?" she asked,
knowing what was coming, yet praying she was wrong.
"You could have told me
before." His voice held none of the hurt she saw in his gaze. "Of course, I seem
to remember believing that we were closer friends. Maybe I was-"
"Wrong?" she
finished, following him away from the windows. Her palm wrapped around his shoulder,
"No, you were right. I should have told you. I shouldn't have been afraid to
tell you."
"Afraid? Of what?"
She shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know, Marcus. You went to Mars with Stephen. What if you'd been captured?
The nightmares I had when they got John were bad enough."
"Sheridan
knows?"
The betrayal in his voice made
her wince. "Out of necessity," she said, valiantly attempting to apologize.
"I only told him because I didn't have any other choice."
He turned on her, wounded.
Irritation was rapidly rising in his eyes. "What about now? Do you have a
choice?"
"No, Marcus. I mean-.
God, you're not going to let this go, are you?"
She had seen him angry in
life, but never had that anger been directed at her. She tried to back away, but he
stepped closer, until he was within arm's reach.
"I'll tell you what. You
answer a few questions for me, and I'll think about it."
"Why?"
One hand reached toward her, a
finger tapping her over the ear. "Since we're going to be stuck here together for a
while, best get it all out in the open, right?"
Her heart leapt into her
throat, and all she could manage was a nod.
"First question. How
strong are your abilities?"
She swallowed hard. "I've
never been tested, but I think I'm a P1, tops."
"And that means you can .
. . ?"
"If anyone tries to scan
me, I'll know it," she replied, her stomach clenched tight.
His eyes darkened dangerously.
"That can't be all, can it?"
He knew she was keeping
something from him, she could hear it in his voice. Closing her eyes, she shook her head.
"I can pick up emotions."
"Emotions?"
"Sometimes. Before you
ask, I only had an idea of how you felt."
One dark eyebrow raised.
"An idea? Was something -- hampering -- your abilities?"
"You weren't joking when
you said get it all out in the open, were you?" she asked, inwardly cursing.
There was a thin smile on his
lips as he stared into her eyes. "Not this time. Answer the question, Susan. Was
there anything hampering your abilities?"
Well, if he wanted a
challenge, he was going to get one. She looked him straight in the eyes and lied.
"No."
"No? Are you sure?"
"Positive. Second
question?"
She could sense that he wanted
to pursue the subject, and the wicked gleam that lit his eyes suggested he had found the
perfect route.
"All right," he
began, squaring his shoulders. "Second question. What, if anything, could interfere
with your abilities?"
Her lips thinned. "How in
the hell am I supposed to know?"
"Let me see . . . oh . .
. years of practical experience?"
Susan groaned. "If you
were still alive-"
"You'd be dead, and with
my luck, we'd still be having this conversation!"
"Thought you didn't
believe in luck?" she countered.
"You have that effect on
people."
They glared across the small
space that separated them, each daring the other to break first.
She knew what he wanted to
hear, knew it might even have been the truth. It had happened to her before, the
last time she had allowed herself the luxury of caring.
She had picked up something
during the few nights Talia Winters had spent in her quarters. There had been something
different, something almost alien, behind the telepath's blue eyes. The touch of her skin
had brought images into Susan's mind, images that were far darker in nature than she had
been able to comprehend. Images that she now understood with blinding clarity.
Shadows.
Her own emotions had kept her
from seeing danger as it stood before her. The idea that those very same emotions had kept
her from recognizing sanctuary as well was not that far-fetched.
"All right," she
relented, "maybe there was something in the way."
His smile widened in triumph.
"Thought so."
"Don't get too smug about
it," she said, eyes narrowed. "You're not the first person that's had that
effect."
"Pardon me if I was
hoping to be the last," he shot back.
She held up a hand toward him.
"You know, I still think that's your biggest problem."
"Problem?" he asked.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The fact that you're
such a pathetically hopeless romantic. Who was it left the roses at my door?
Hmm?"
Anger drained from his
features. "Roses? Hate to break it to you, love, but I never left any roses at
your door. I seem to remember you giving them to me."
Susan blanched. "What?
You mean . . . I didn't . . . you didn't?"
"Susan Ivanova,
speechless! I never thought I'd live to see the day!" Catching himself, he added,
"Wait a minute, no, I didn't, did I? Well, all the same."
Susan, however, was still
reeling. "So, how did they get there?"
One dark eyebrow raised.
"Secret admirer, perhaps?"
"I still would
have thought that was you."
Those bottomless green eyes
found hers, making it a struggle to keep from getting lost. The emotions that touched her
mind softened, the rage flowing away like the tide. "Really?" he asked, his
voice telling her how much he wanted the words to be true.
"As if anyone else on
that station had the hots for me. Now, are you finished with the questions?"
Folding his arms over his
chest, he began to pace. "Not quite yet."
There was a tinge of sarcasm
in her voice as she said, "Great. Just great. Of course I'm going to fall for
a man that's just as stubborn as I am!"
That earned her a soft smile.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Clearing something up
for me," he said, his steps coming to a halt. "I think that also gives me the
last question."
She was beginning to get a
very bad feeling. "That would be?"
"How long did I, well,
bloody hell. Give me another minute."
She felt him reaching for the
right words, but failing. Still, she was able to get the direction of his search. Her
steps brought her to his side. "Just as long, I think," she mused, her fingers
wrapping around his shoulder. "I just wish I'd had the guts to admit it before it was
too late. That answer your question?"
The gaze that met hers was as
soft as a caress. "Yes," he whispered.
"Marcus?"
"Yes?"
Her fingers slowly curled into
his dark hair. "Is it too late?"
"Don't know," he
shrugged.
Mustering all of her courage,
she gently drew his face to hers. Closing her eyes, she made a soft confession against his
lips. "I love you, too."
Her heart threatened to leap
out of her chest as, at the precise instant their lips met, the thunderous chiming of a
grandfather clock sounded from somewhere in the palace. Her body whirled to face the
doorway.
Her eyes, however, were met
with a different sight.
The room that surrounded her
was dark, cold . . . and empty.
"Damn it!"
Her link chimed. Reaching to
the shelf beside the bed, she fought the urge to throw the small device across the room.
"Ivanova, go."
"We're thirty minutes out
from the jump point, Captain," O'Connell's voice spoke from the small speaker.
"You asked to be notified."
Susan dragged herself out of
the bed, realizing that killing her second-in-command for following orders might not look
good in her record. "I did, didn't I? All right. Thank you, Mister O'Connell. Ivanova
out."
Trudging to her closet, she
pulled out the only uniform she had not packed the night before. Years of practice had her
hair pulled into a tight braid in a matter of seconds.
"Well," she told her
reflection in the bathroom mirror. "There's always tomorrow night."
[End part 10 of ?]