Part 2.

Stephen was amazed that, with all the advancements of the human race, cellblocks were still the most inhuman places ever created. He walked down an echoing grey corridor past locked cubicles that held little more than a hard bunk. At this moment in time, they were all occupied by a sorry looking lot of ruffians who were sleeping off hangovers, or nursing injuries, or both. Stephen dragged his attention back to the security officer who was guiding him.

"I'm surprised to see someone as important as you doing 'patch up' duty." He was saying.

Stephen sighed inwardly. He usually got this reaction, but it still disappointed him.

"It is fascinating work studying alien biologies," He explained, "But research is only serving the future. I am a doctor now, and want to heal people that are hurt now. I volunteer three or four times a year in A&E, or refugee centres, or prisons."

"Do you deliberately pick the worst spots?"

"That's were I'm needed the most." Stephen answered, "Plus I meet some very interesting people."

"Well, we've got one for you. A real wild creature; caused all the other injuries here and pretty much destroyed the bar."

"Your normal Saturday night?"

The officer gave a quick laugh, "We were expecting some rowdiness around Independence Day, but this is way beyond anything I've experienced."

"You've never had a trashed bar before?"

"Not by a single woman."

They stopped outside the last cell in the corridor. A guard, the only one Stephen had seen since entering the cellblock, stepped back so that the doctor could look through the window in the door. Crouched on the floor and being violently sick into the toilet was a thin woman with short-cropped dark hair. Stephen couldn't see her face properly, but she didn't seem to be injured beyond a few minor cuts and bruises.

"No one knows what she was doing there," The officer continued the story, "The bar is right in the middle of the sector of Marsdome that we tell tourists to stay well away from. The owner says that she walked in and ordered a bottle of vodka, then just sat at the bar and drank, as if she was in a world of her own. She was starting on her second bottle when one of the local goons tried to pick her up. Apparently she told him, less than politely, to go away and when he didn't take the hint, she floored him. Well, his friends then got involved and by the time we got there, she had knocked out half the room and broken almost every piece of furniture that wasn't nailed to the floor. She took out two of my guys before we could get her out of there."

"She doesn't seem to be hurt." Stephen observed, "What do you want me to do?"

"To do what she did; we reckon she had to be on something. Could you run some tests and find out what? Plus, she refuses to tell us who she is, and she isn't carrying any ID, so we need some DNA to run a match."

"Haven't you got someone that can do that?"

The officer shuffled uncomfortably, "No one wants to go in there with her."

Stephen swallowed nervously. There were not many people that could intimidate a whole squad of security personnel. For the first time, he wondered why he volunteered to do these things when he could stay in his comfy office. Still, there was no way he was going to back out now.

He prepared a hypo of sedative as a back up, and nodded to the guard to open the door. Uncomfortably aware that he was beginning to sweat, he stepped into the cell. The stench of vomit hit him as the woman continued to retch into the toilet bowl, oblivious to his presence. Her whole body heaved as her stomach tried to expel its contents. Everything had been brought up long before, but the woman's stomach did not believe it. Stephen cringed as she began another convulsion. It sounded like she was going to cough up her own lungs. Stephen's fear dissipated as his compassion took over. He had never been able to distance himself from anyone that was suffering, no matter who they were. He was a doctor; a healer first and foremost. Discovering identities came a long way after.

He knelt beside the woman and gently cupped her face in his hands. It was haggard, pale and drawn with bloodshot eyes and a tattoo of bruises. Contorted as it was, it was a few seconds before Stephen recognised his old friend.

Susan!

At the touch of his hands, she turned her gaze towards him. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing him there. Then there was a fleeting moment of panic, which was almost instantly replaced with a look of resignation as if she did not care what happened to her anymore.

"I should have expected you Stephen," She managed to say, her voice little more than a rough whisper. "Typical Russian luck."

Susan pulled away to retch once more. Stephen cleared his head of all the questions that had crowded in with the shock of seeing Susan, and thought quickly. He had to get her out of there, before anyone found out who she was. She could lose her ship because of this. For Susan to have done something this reckless, there must have been some big time problems. He could only remember one other time that she had caused a riot, and that was over a telepath, so it was safe to assume that whatever had sent her over the edge this time was just as serious. Stephen knew Susan, and there was little that she couldn't cope with.

Stephen also knew that Susan was one of the last people to admit that she needed help, so he wanted to get her somewhere private where he could take his time over getting to the root of the problem.

"Officer." Stephen spoke in his most professional tone as he turned back towards the door; "I want you to release this woman into my custody." He continued before he could be interrupted, "Her name is Ruth Blackett and has been a patient of mine for a number of years. I cannot tell you the details, but at this time she is not responsible for her actions and so cannot be held accountable."

The officer listened open mouthed before setting his jaw.

"Doctor Franklin," he began, "She's not going anywhere. I have her down for fifteen charges of GBH and about a thousand credits worth of criminal damage."

"I shall personally pay for the damage, and any compensation and fine that you wish to apply; but she is leaving with me. As for the charges, I know my medical law and I can supply evidence that will get her out of any court on Mars."

It was Stephen's turn to set his jaw. For a few seconds, the two men faced each other, waiting to see which would be the first to back down. It was Susan that decided the matter. She gave a groaning cough and attempted to stand before collapsing back to the floor. Stephen saw the officer glance worryingly in her direction. The fear of what she might do when she sobered up was so great that he would have accepted any story the doctor told him. If Stephen was willing to take her on, then good luck and good riddance.

"I need her details for my records." The officer said.

Stephen breathed in with relief. "Done. Now someone get me a blanket and arrange transport for us."

When they were left alone, Stephen knelt back down beside Susan. He prepared another hypo so that he could stabilise her condition long enough to get her to a hotel. He didn't want to take her to a hospital, but she looked very far gone. Eyes closed, shallow breathing. The only thing that was keeping her upright was the wall.

"Susan?" Stephen prayed for a response as he administered the shot, "Do you think you can walk?"

"No idea." Was the whispered reply. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

That surprised Stephen. Surely he didn't need to explain to her?

"You're my friend Susan."

"Save your skills for people who deserve it."

That got him angry.

"I don't doctor those people who deserve it. I doctor those who need it, weather they want it or not. Now are you going to stand, or do I have to carry you?"

Susan answered that with a weak shrug.

As it turned out, the muscle relaxant that Stephen had administered to stop Susan's convulsions had also rendered it impossible for her to stand, so she was carried, wrapped in a blanket. When they were in the transport, Stephen searched Susan's pockets. After all, the officer might well have been lying about her carrying no ID. That was not what he was looking for though, but something to tell him where she was staying. It may have been by reflex, but Susan had picked up her access card to her hotel room when she left, so Stephen took her back there.

Susan was asleep long before they arrived. Stephen tucked her into the bed, then, as it was probably the safest time to do it, gave her a thorough examination. The alcohol level in her blood was way over the limit, which didn't necessarily worry him, but the other readings did.

Stephen had noticed that she had lost weight. It was not uncommon for deep space crews with a diet of synthetics to suffer from loss of appetite, but Susan was bordering on malnutrition, lacking in so many vitamins and minerals that Stephen was amazed that she could function at all. He could well imagine that any decent meals that she had eaten were few and far between. It was obvious that she had not been looking after herself, and if she continued in the same way she would be seriously damaging her health. Deliberate or not, she was slowly starving herself to death.

Stephen could not think beyond that thought and numbly sat staring at his friend.

HIS FRIEND!

He felt utterly undeserving of the title at that moment. If he was Susan's friend he wouldn't have stayed out of contact for five years. Five years in which she had become a shadow of her former self.

Stephen had found Marcus' pin on the floor and easily made the connection. He still felt the loss of his friend, even after five years. It was usually the craziest insignificant things that would affect him; little reminders that would wake the twist of grief that dwelt in the pit of his stomach. He had accepted the fact that it would probably never go away, and so had continued with the rest of his life. But what of Susan? She had left Babylon 5 saying that she needed space and time to think, and they had given her five years worth. Time enough for anyone to work through their issues, if they had wanted to. Perhaps he should have persuaded her to stay longer after it had happened, so that she was among friends who would have given her love and support. She would have been as angry as hell, but they might have got her to talk about it.

From her current situation, Stephen got the impression that she had run away from her problem, just as he had. He still shivered when he remembered meeting himself. He knew now that he had been wrong in trying to sort out his problems alone, but at the time it had seemed the only thing to do. What if Susan was feeling the same way, that no one could help her, and that she just had to do it all by herself? What had she decided was the solution? Pretend that none of it had ever happened? That he and the rest of her friends did not exist?

Stephen got the horrible feeling that he was right and that Susan had shut away everything for the past five years; denying herself the right to grieve. She was probably in one hell of an emotional mess.

Stephen sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could spend all night trying to think himself into Susan's head, and still not get it right. The best thing he could do was wait till morning. He had come to Mars to find her anyway, but not quite in these circumstances. Perhaps the message he had to deliver was just what she needed. If so, then it was only just in time. Perhaps nothing would be able to help Susan now.

OoOoO

Morning was slipping towards noon before Stephen heard Susan waking up. She groaned as she struggled into a sitting position, by which time Stephen was at her bedside with a glass of water and some pills. Susan looked at him.

"They're just salt tablets," He explained, "You're dehydrated and these will stop you getting cramp for one thing."

With a half-hearted glare, Susan knocked the pills to the back of her throat and took a long drink of the water. Stephen filled up her glass again, surprised that she had not argued with him.

"Keep drinking." He ordered, "Between the bottle of vodka you had and throwing up your last three meals, your fluids are way down on what they should be."

From the way Susan gulped down the next glass, Stephen guessed that she had needed little persuading. She poured herself a third, but instead of drinking it straight away, found her voice.

"What are you doing here Stephen? I thought you would be on Earth with the rest of the bigwigs."

"I should be, but I came looking for you."

She snorted, "It didn't take you long."

"More luck than anything else. Do you remember what happened?"

Susan shook her head as she took another drink. "After the first few glasses everything becomes a blur. I remember hitting some annoying people, then throwing up in a cold cell and seeing you. What was the damage?"

"Your usual."

That didn't seem to faze Susan one way or the other.

"The court-martial won't take long then." She stated with no emotion in her voice, as if the deed were already done. Stephen could feel his anger bubble up to mix with the worry that had been present since last night. Didn't she care what happened to her?

"You are not going to be booted out just yet." Stephen said, and in response to a raised eyebrow, explained. "No one knows that it was you. I gave them a false ID."

"Ruth Blackett."

"She's one of a number of fake IDs that I created when I ran the telepath underground railroad. She's still in the system, and with a little tweaking, she will become you."

"I suppose I ought to thank you."

"You can if you want." Stephen said. He automatically took a deep breath in preparation for what was to come next. "Susan, I'm your friend. We've been through too much together." Susan turned on her glare. She knew what was coming. "Whatever's wrong," Stephen continued, "You know that I will help you."

Susan put down her glass. "There's nothing wrong."

"We both know that that is a lie. I can help you, Susan. Let me help you."

She swung her legs off the bed, her gaze now unable to meet Stephen's. "I don't want to talk about it." And with that she strode into the bathroom and firmly shut the door.

She emerged half an hour later wrapped in a robe, having had a shower. Stephen had taken advantage of room service and had a table laid out with a very late breakfast. Susan didn't say a word but sat down in the offered chair. Stephen sat opposite, noticing that Susan was still not looking at him. He decided to turn on his doctor's charm and began chatting about the food.

"I suggest you start with orange juice," He began, "Assuming that is what this is. It costs more to get oranges sent out here than it was to get coffee on B5. Maybe they have a secret garden somewhere. Anyway, it will coat your stomach in case you are still feeling the effects of last night. After that, we have toast and marmalade. A nice dose of vitamin C to wake you up." Stephen prattled on. He almost hoped Susan would tell him to shut up, or toss him a few choice swear words. Anything to show him that the Ivanova spirit was still burning bright.

Nothing. She just sipped the orange juice and stared at the table.

Stephen decided that he had been wrong when he had described Susan as a shadow of her former self. There was no Ivanova left. What he was talking to was just a shell. Her spirit had died a long time ago and her body was just waiting to catch up.

Stephen refused to give up just yet. In a final attempt to get a reaction, he proudly announced the last dish on the breakfast table.

"And to finish, my personal favourite, and incredibly hard to find off Earth," He whipped the cover off the plate, "Bacon and eggs!"

Susan looked at the plate for slow seconds. Silence descended and the food gently steamed.

"I'm assuming that's the silence of amazed surprise and admiration." Stephen quipped.

Susan put own her glass and began to rise from the table. The last thing Stephen had expected.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry." Came the flat reply.

"After last night I don't believe that. And when was the last time you had bacon and eggs?"

Susan stopped, shock still, at that question. Her back was turned so Stephen couldn't see her face, but he could see that she had gripped the end of the bed as if for support, and judging from the whiteness of her knuckles she was fighting for control. Whether it was against anger or grief he was unable to tell.

Why had she reacted this way? The breakfast was meant to cheer her up, not send her deeper into the pit of despair that she had flung herself. Stephen desperately wracked his memory for some reference to breakfast on B5. There had been something Michael had told him about; a joke that he had gleefully reported to anyone that knew Ivanova. No, not a joke; a surprise. A very exclusive breakfast had been delivered to her as a thank you.

The realisation of what he had done slammed into him like a starfury. How could he have been so stupid? If Susan was as grief stricken as he suspected, then offering her the same dish as Marcus had was the worst thing he could do.

"Oh God Susan, I'm sorry." He tried to explain, "I didn't realise." She still had her back to him, "Look, I miss Marcus too. I know what he meant to you."

"DON'T YOU DARE MENTION THAT NAME!" Susan screamed, as she whirled about to face him again. "I HAVE NO FEELINGS FOR THAT MAN. THE BARSTARD WAS A COWARD."

Stephen was shocked speechless by this change in Susan. In a microsecond, she had turned from an Earthforce officer, angry but in control, into a possessed wild demon of a woman. Stephen ducked as Susan seized the nearest heavy object, an ashtray, and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with enough force to shatter it and for the pieces to rebound onto the crouching man. He stayed down as more items were sent about the room followed by the anguished wail of Susan.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! NO MORE. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH." At this point she ran out of objects and started to attack the furniture, raining kicks and punches onto the bed, cupboards and doors. "I AM SICK OF HIM. OF YOU. OF EARTHFORCE. OF EVERYTHING. I WANT IT ALL TO STOP NOW!"

The maelstrom that was Susan stopped in the middle of the room and let loose a scream. A howl of raw emotion releasing five years of pent up grief, frustration and rage. All the feelings that she had buried, festering until the point when she snapped.

The howl continued, a rising crescendo joined by the tattoo of Susan's feet drumming into the carpet. To Stephen, it felt like an eternity before, as suddenly as it started, Susan stopped. She collapsed to the floor, her arms wrapped around her head, crying. Heart wrenching sobs welling up from the depths of her soul, while her body continued shaking from the rage that had just engulfed it.

Stephen emerged from his shelter and approached Susan. What he had just witnessed, scared him more than anything else in his life, but it told him that there was still hope. If Susan could get that enraged, then she had not given up. Stephen needed to push his advantage at this opening and get her to talk.

What she needed immediately though was comfort. He approached his friend and sat next to her on the floor. Gently, he lifted her head and, as he had five years previously, gave her a pair of arms to fall into and a shoulder to cry on. As he gently rocked Susan back and forth, a part of Stephen's brain noted that it was the second time that that particular shirt had become tearstained.

Soon, Susan's tears subsided to the point where she could hold a conversation in between the sobs. Stephen took a deep breath and began to probe.

"Why did you say that he was a coward?" Stephen asked, careful not to use Marcus' name, "You fought alongside him many times. He was always putting his own life at risk to save others. He dedicated his life to helping those in need."

Susan looked up at him and shook her head. "No. He was looking for a way out. He may have told everyone that he had made a promise to his brother, but he just didn't have the courage to face life, and he was too scared to commit suicide. He wanted an honourable death and so volunteered for the most dangerous missions. But that didn't work, so finally he used me as an escape route."

"I don't believe it." Stephen stated. What was she trying to prove to herself? "Marcus was anything but a coward, and you know it. Why are you saying this?"

"Because it is the only explanation for what happened." Susan began to cry harder again, "He had to want to die. I can't except the other reason."

"That he loved you?"

"No." Susan collapsed again into a new wave of sobs, "That I killed him."

A murderer! That was what had been eating away at Susan. Finally he understood why she had done what she had. Stephen squeezed her as tightly as he could.

"Listen to me Susan. You are not to blame for what happened. It's not your fault. If you think that, then you will never be able to live your life."

He could barely hear what she said next. "I'm tired of life Stephen. I don't know where I'm going anymore. I just want it all to stop."

Stephen felt his blood run cold and his mouth go dry. Surely she wasn't thinking what he thought she was? How much had she been hoping to drink last night?

"Susan," He ventured, "You're not going to…"

"Why not?" She looked at him again with hopeless eyes. "He got it right. It is a lot harder to live, and I haven't even been doing that for the last five years. I have just been going through the motions as a captain, not taking notice of what's happening around me. I didn't even know what the date was when we were told to come here. My crew deserve better."

"Yes they do." Stephen agreed, desperately trying to convince her not to do what he feared she was planning. "And you can give them that. Marcus gave you his life-force for a reason; to live."

"And what have I got to live for?" Susan snapped back. "The same as him. Nothing."

"That is where you're wrong."

Susan's rage began to bubble once more, "Don't give me the speech Stephen. I don't have anything left. All that I cared about is gone."

Stephen did not want to see Susan transform again. He was walking a minefield and anything he said might result in him being permanently maimed. In his confusion, he blurted out, "I wasn't talking about you."

"What!?" Susan struggled to sit up. Stephen used the chance to escape back to the other side of the room where he had left his jacket. He began to search through the pockets, painfully aware that an unstable Ivanova was approaching him.

"I said that I had come to Mars to find you. The reason is because I was asked to deliver a message."

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A data crystal. He held it up to Susan, who eyed it warily.

"From who?"

Stephen didn't answer her. He inserted the crystal into the socket by the wall monitor and waited for it to play, carefully studying her reaction as the face of a young woman appeared. The confusion tinged with hostility that showed on Susan's face made Stephen wonder if now was quite the right time to show her this. He gulped back his apprehension as the message began.

"Captain Ivanova." The woman on the screen spoke with an English accent that wasn't as pronounced as Marcus', "I bring you greetings and may you be blessed with long life and prosperity. My name is Marie Cole, and Marcus was my Father."

"Pause."

Stephen could swear that the eyes Susan turned on him were glowing in the same way as Lyta's had.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" She snapped. "Because if this is, I will scoop their hearts out after I have removed yours."

Stephen held up a hand to ward her off, desperately trying to avoid a repeat of her earlier explosion. "No. I reacted in the same way, but she checks out. She's adopted." He could see that Susan was not convinced, but she obviously decided not to kill him right there as she took a shuddering breath to gain control and faced the monitor again.

"Play."

"My Father talked about you a lot when we were together. He held you in the greatest respect and admiration. I know that you will know nothing about me, but that is not because my Father did not want you to know, but that he feared for my life if anyone discovered my identity. Only recently have I taken on my name again and ventured out into the universe. I would have contacted you earlier, but I have only just learnt the whole story from Doctor Franklin of what happened between you and my Father. I would like to meet you, and not just because my Father wanted us to meet. There are things I want to say to you, face to face, and there are things we should discuss.

Doctor Franklin will know where I am whenever you are ready to meet me. I look forward to that time.

Entil'zha Veni."

Marie finished with the traditional Ranger salute.

Stephen took the crystal out of the port and turned to Susan. She was staring at the blank screen, incomprehension on her face as she struggled to take in what she had just seen. The message had done what he could not; subdue her rage. All the conclusions that she had formed were shattered with this new evidence. She had to re-evaluate events that she thought she had understood. Re-evaluate people that she thought she had known.

"He had a daughter?"

Stephen knew she was not asking him. He unfolded a piece of paper and put it on the breakfast table, using the data crystal as a paperweight.

"Marie is on Mars at this moment. I have told her that you will meet with her tomorrow. The address is there."

Susan looked at him. He could see that she wanted to ask him to explain it all. He didn't want to. Marie had that right.

"I've got to go." He excused himself, "I've got a lot to do before the celebrations next week, and one of them is updating the file of Ruth Blackett. Marie can explain everything." He had been gathering up his belongings during this little speech, and headed for the door. "I'll see you next week and you can tell me how it went. Now eat some breakfast."

Stephen was going through the door when Susan made him pause.

"Stephen."

He looked back.

"Thank you."

Stephen smiled. She was going to be all right.

To be continued…