Beginning of happiness
A/N: This is another one of those things that happen when I'm depressed about season 4. There shall be others, soon. None of this is mine- if it had been, there would've been sex and babies involved. They were created by JMS, produced by TNT and others, and brought to life by actors. Post WWE2, and spoilers for that but no further- we never got to see anyone dealing with Sinclair's little time-trip, and this is my attempt to fill that void. M/I friendship, with an eye towards more in the future...
He was entirely, well and truly, completely gone. And he had given then almost no warning. He knew he wasn't coming back. A quick goodbye, no time for anything else, and he'd disappeared into a past so distant she could barely wrap her mind round it. He was long dead now, he who had been alive in this time until last week, his body reduced to dust and the memories of an entire race. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Garibaldi had been furious when they got back. Furious at them for not waiting, for not telling them. Furious at Jeff for not saying goodbye in person. For a while she worried he'd go back to drinking, but there was too much to do. Always too much to do, too much happening on the station for any of them to indulge in misery, to remember for more than a fleeting moment. They couldn't allow themselves to remember how much they missed him.
She muddled through somehow for a week, burying herself in work, as always, driving thoughts of him away from her mind viciously. Until she suddenly found herself with a free evening, and memories started forcing their way in despite her efforts. She desperately hoped for a call to take her back to C&C, almost wished for a crisis to occupy her, but no call came. Angry at herself and at the world, Susan Ivanova found herself leaving the hateful silence of her empty quarters and heading down to the Zocalo. The vodka there wasn't nearly as good as her own stock, but she couldn't stand the silence any more. She sat at the bar, nursing her shot, making it last. She had to work in the morning. Scanning the room out of habit, she spotted a familiar looking back, shoulders slumped dejectedly. He seemed to be reading something. She didn't know what it was that drove her to join him. Maybe it was simply that he was a familiar, friendly face. Maybe it was that he'd been more than just 'friendly'.
He barely looked up from his book when she sat at his table, and she took a chance to glance at whatever it was he was reading. Not English- not any human language she recognized. His face, when he finally looked at her, was strained and melancholy. Until he saw her, at least. At that, his expression transformed into something much more alive, much more cheerful.
"Commander. How lovely to see you."
She didn't smile at him. She never did. "Marcus. Thought you were away on some errand." It made sense to send him away for a while- the people on Babylon 5 weren't the only ones who took Sinclair's disappearance hard.
"I was. I'm back." He shrugged, "Sit down, commander- I feel awkward with you towering over me. Might destroy my reputation." His easy smile and flippant manner didn't fool her. She still sat down. "Long day?"
"Aren't they all?" She countered, and he nodded, still smiling. She drained her glass and waved it around. "Join me for another round?"
"I'm afraid I don't drink." He said apologetically, "But I could just keep you company. They tell me drinking alone is rather less pleasant than in company."
"They're right." She pushed the glass away from her, "But I shouldn't. As long as today was, tomorrow's probably going to be longer." The sat in comfortable silence for a while, she deep in thought while he turned back to his book. "So, what did you do while you were away?"
"Just passed messages along, nothing important." He dismissed the entire week of risking his life without looking at her. "How were things here?"
"Hectic, crazy, violent. Same old, same old." She replied, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she deserved another glass tonight. The noise in the Zocalo was suddenly almost too much for her. She looked at him again, looked around. He was an island of loneliness in a big, crowded room. Just like her. He gave her a questioning look.
"Any new attacks?"
"What? No." She'd been distracted. "Look, the noise is starting to get to me, I should go." She rose, pushing herself off the table almost violently. He seemed sorry to see her go. She stopped before she'd taken two steps. "Why don't you come over?" Any company, even his, would be better than none. Marcus' eyes lit up, but he managed to contain his enthusiasm behind a hesitant mask.
"Are you sure? I mean-"
"I'm asking you to my quarters, Marcus." She stopped him. "Make up your mind before I change mine. You may never get another chance." She means it as a joke, but the reality of it is all too present. They are fighting a war. He considered that for a moment, then nodded, grinning.
"In that case, fair lady, I gratefully accept." He joined her, bowing gracefully and offering her his arm. She nearly smiled, pushed him lightly ahead of her, and ignored the arm. He shrugged and led the way. She knew he knew where her quarters are. He made a point of not looking when she keyed in her code, although he probably knew that too. As the door slid open, she was oddly grateful that her quarters were always tidy, and that she had no random pieces of clothing scattered around. For some reason, she wanted to look good for him.
"Tea?" She offered.
"Only if you let me make it." He countered. "I'll show you how real tea's supposed to be made." Without waiting for permission, he headed for the kitchenette. She watched him move with a small smile, just as long as his back was turned. When he turned to face her, looking slightly sheepish, she was stern again. "Um, you'll need to show me where everything is."
"Yes, I will." She agreed, not unpleasantly. For some reason, tonight was simply the wrong night to pick a fight with him. She couldn't talk to Delenn, Sheridan had no idea, and Michael wouldn't talk about it yet- Marcus was her only chance. While he busied himself with the tea, rambling randomly about her selection and the lack of a proper china teapot, she picked up his forgotten book, resting on her couch, and leafed through it. At a closer look, she recognized the writing as Minbari. "What is this?"
He looked over at her and nearly dropped the cup he was holding. "Um..." He looked down and mumbled, almost too low for her to hear, "The teachings of Valen."
She'd suspected as much, but the answer still made her pause. Very carefully, she closed the book again and laid it back on the couch. "Any good?" She asked casually, regretting the words almost as soon as they were out. He gave her an injured look.
"They're not meant to be 'good', Susan, they're meant to be enlightening." He snapped. He could usually take whatever she threw at him calmly- as long as she was only insulting him. Irreverence towards what had become his religion, though, he wasn't willing to take. He marched over to the couch and took the book, holding it protectively against his chest.
"I- I'm sorry." Ivanova was genuinely regretful of her question, "It was a stupid question. I didn't mean it like that. I meant, is it helping?"
"Helping in what?" Mollified by her apology, Marcus carried the tea over from the kitchen and set it on the table. "Play mother."
She didn't quite understand the reference, but poured the tea anyway. Sipping it, she decided it was better not to tell him she couldn't sense any difference between his tea and the tea she usually prepared, except that this one wasn't laced with vodka. Then she considered his question. "You know with what."
"It helps me." He said simply, "But then, it always has."
In a way, it almost angered her, that this small, annoying, disrespectful, why-doesn't-she-kick-him-the-hell-out man was also hurt by Sinclair's...passing. She couldn't call it death. Not yet. It didn't feel like a death. It annoyed her that he shared her sorrow, and that in turn made her guilty. The mix never ended well for anybody. She finished her tea in a single gulp, searing her tongue and throat to stifle angry words. He had every right to feel sad. "Did you know him well?" She asked, almost against her will. She had to talk to someone.
"As well as any Ranger could get to know Entil'Zha. Better, maybe, because I spent most of my time training on Minbar. I joined the Rangers just after he became Entil'Zha. He...Helped me through a few tough spots. I wasn't very pleased with the world when I started my Ranger training, or with myself." There was a sad acceptance in his voice. "He was a good man."
"Yeah. He was. I just-"Ivanova stopped, looking for the best word. Oh, to hell with the best word! "I'm so angry with him sometimes! How could he have left like that! He knew it was coming, why didn't he tell us?"
"I don't think he knew, before he came here. And would you have let him go if he'd told you?"
Ivanova glared at him, then sunk back on the couch helplessly. "I don't know..."
"I get angry about it too, you know." Marcus moved closer to her. "Sometimes I think it would've been better if he'd stayed, or if somebody else became Valen or anything at all, but it was his Destiny."
"I don't believe in destiny." Ivanova groused. "I know he had to go back or destroy history and get us all killed, but damnit, why now? We need him around! Couldn't he have waited?"
"You're just being silly now, Susan." Marcus took her hand gently. She didn't take it away. "He's gone, and we need to fight this war and make his little trip across time worthwhile. You can't brood over it forever."
"I'm not brooding!" She exclaimed, "And I'm not being silly." She pulled her hand away, hugging herself, "I'm missing my friend." Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and there was nothing Marcus wanted more than to hold her and comfort her and kiss her, not in any particular order. "You know, it's strange...When he was away on Minbar, I didn't miss him much. There was always so much to do, and after a while I got used to him not being around, but he was still there, even if he never called or visited. And now I'd like to keep pretending he's still there, but I can't."
"In a way he still is, you know." Marcus waved the book at her, "He's remembered by all Minbari, and several other races. His spirit is still with us."
He was spouting cliches, and Susan thought for a second that she should be angry, except the cliches were helping, surprisingly. "Isn't it odd, that we personally knew a guy who's become a god to an entire race?" She asked, "I mean, I've fought with him, and yelled at him, and he's yelled at me, and...Not really the sort of person I'd see reaching divinity, really." She scrubbed her eyes with one hand, not admitting they were getting out of her iron control.
"He was special." Marcus took her hand again. "His words calm a war, united the Minbari people and helped them defeat the Shadows. He was very special. And divinity wasn't really up to him- they made him their god, wrote down his words, kept his memory alive. It really does help if you think of Valen and Sinclair as two different people," He smiled sadly, his eyes showing what he couldn't and wouldn't tell her yet, and she didn't noticed, "But then, time travel gives me a headache."
"Can you translate it?" Susan asked, pointing at the book. "I've heard G'kar insist that his holy books can't be read in anything other than Narn- are Minbari the same?"
"Hardly. Valen- Sinclair, rather, encouraged them to teach others their own wisdom, as well as his. That's why the Rangers were opened to humans. Would you like me to read some for you?"
"Would you?" Hearing the words, finding Sinclair's voice in them, would probably help. And Marcus did have a nice, soothing voice, when he wasn't cracking jokes. "I'd like that."
"Alright." Marcus tried to look much calmer than he felt. This was much closer than he'd ever hoped to get to her. Close enough to touch, to smell her hair. It was very nice, altogether, and he sent up a short but heartfelt thanks to Valen, who even as a human seemed to be on his side. "Settle down, get comfy." She was already in civilian clothes, and as she leaned back against him, looking for all intents and purposes like a child about to hear a bedtime story, he thought he'd either melt or explode. Luckily, he was a well trained Ranger, able to control his baser needs for the greater good. Also, he reminded himself sternly, he was still in danger of a slow and painful death if he put a foot- or a hand- wrong. He started at the beginning, and soon found his stride, adding life and color to the words. It wasn't until he reached a certain passage and she shot up, nearly hitting her head on his chin, that he realized her head was practically in his lap.
"Read that again."
"Wha- Gods, Susan, don't scare me like that." He thought he'd been about to die. Regaining breath and composure, he re-read the passage. It was a simple thought about the perpetuity of life and the need to be remembered by history in a positive fashion.
"Son of a bitch." Susan whispered, "He said that to me, to us, several times way back when he was here. That, and that stuff about saying what's in your heart only when it won't get you into excessive trouble. That's a very human outlook on life. I can't believe his lectures have become part of a religion."
"All religion is composed of lectures, Susan, when you get right down to it." He replied, "Now hush, you're breaking my rhythm."
"Don't you hush me!" She almost got up, but he pushed her back down lightly with a hand on her shoulder.
"Do you really want me to go?"
Come on, Ivanova, admit it, "Not really." She returned to her 'listening' position. It was really very calming, and hearing her friend's words in an ancient book somehow made the whole thing more real. As Marcus started reading again, she gradually relaxed more and more, finally falling asleep. It took him nearly half an hour to notice. Very carefully, he moved her aside and stood up.
She was sound asleep- he could do almost anything and she'd never know. But he couldn't- it would be an abuse of an unexpected privilege, and he was far too much of a gentleman, and far too fond of life, for that. He settled for kissing his own fingers and pressing them quickly against her cheek before throwing a cover over her and leaving silently, radiating a quiet joy that lasted well into the next day.
The next evening, Ivanova found a copy of the teaching of Valen, in Earth Standard English, resting on her desk at C&C. When asked, not one of her people would tell her who put it there, even under threats. She let them off with only the tiniest dressing down, to keep her image, and if there was an extra bounce to her step, no one was foolish enough to comment on it.
A/N: This is another one of those things that happen when I'm depressed about season 4. There shall be others, soon. None of this is mine- if it had been, there would've been sex and babies involved. They were created by JMS, produced by TNT and others, and brought to life by actors. Post WWE2, and spoilers for that but no further- we never got to see anyone dealing with Sinclair's little time-trip, and this is my attempt to fill that void. M/I friendship, with an eye towards more in the future...
He was entirely, well and truly, completely gone. And he had given then almost no warning. He knew he wasn't coming back. A quick goodbye, no time for anything else, and he'd disappeared into a past so distant she could barely wrap her mind round it. He was long dead now, he who had been alive in this time until last week, his body reduced to dust and the memories of an entire race. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Garibaldi had been furious when they got back. Furious at them for not waiting, for not telling them. Furious at Jeff for not saying goodbye in person. For a while she worried he'd go back to drinking, but there was too much to do. Always too much to do, too much happening on the station for any of them to indulge in misery, to remember for more than a fleeting moment. They couldn't allow themselves to remember how much they missed him.
She muddled through somehow for a week, burying herself in work, as always, driving thoughts of him away from her mind viciously. Until she suddenly found herself with a free evening, and memories started forcing their way in despite her efforts. She desperately hoped for a call to take her back to C&C, almost wished for a crisis to occupy her, but no call came. Angry at herself and at the world, Susan Ivanova found herself leaving the hateful silence of her empty quarters and heading down to the Zocalo. The vodka there wasn't nearly as good as her own stock, but she couldn't stand the silence any more. She sat at the bar, nursing her shot, making it last. She had to work in the morning. Scanning the room out of habit, she spotted a familiar looking back, shoulders slumped dejectedly. He seemed to be reading something. She didn't know what it was that drove her to join him. Maybe it was simply that he was a familiar, friendly face. Maybe it was that he'd been more than just 'friendly'.
He barely looked up from his book when she sat at his table, and she took a chance to glance at whatever it was he was reading. Not English- not any human language she recognized. His face, when he finally looked at her, was strained and melancholy. Until he saw her, at least. At that, his expression transformed into something much more alive, much more cheerful.
"Commander. How lovely to see you."
She didn't smile at him. She never did. "Marcus. Thought you were away on some errand." It made sense to send him away for a while- the people on Babylon 5 weren't the only ones who took Sinclair's disappearance hard.
"I was. I'm back." He shrugged, "Sit down, commander- I feel awkward with you towering over me. Might destroy my reputation." His easy smile and flippant manner didn't fool her. She still sat down. "Long day?"
"Aren't they all?" She countered, and he nodded, still smiling. She drained her glass and waved it around. "Join me for another round?"
"I'm afraid I don't drink." He said apologetically, "But I could just keep you company. They tell me drinking alone is rather less pleasant than in company."
"They're right." She pushed the glass away from her, "But I shouldn't. As long as today was, tomorrow's probably going to be longer." The sat in comfortable silence for a while, she deep in thought while he turned back to his book. "So, what did you do while you were away?"
"Just passed messages along, nothing important." He dismissed the entire week of risking his life without looking at her. "How were things here?"
"Hectic, crazy, violent. Same old, same old." She replied, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she deserved another glass tonight. The noise in the Zocalo was suddenly almost too much for her. She looked at him again, looked around. He was an island of loneliness in a big, crowded room. Just like her. He gave her a questioning look.
"Any new attacks?"
"What? No." She'd been distracted. "Look, the noise is starting to get to me, I should go." She rose, pushing herself off the table almost violently. He seemed sorry to see her go. She stopped before she'd taken two steps. "Why don't you come over?" Any company, even his, would be better than none. Marcus' eyes lit up, but he managed to contain his enthusiasm behind a hesitant mask.
"Are you sure? I mean-"
"I'm asking you to my quarters, Marcus." She stopped him. "Make up your mind before I change mine. You may never get another chance." She means it as a joke, but the reality of it is all too present. They are fighting a war. He considered that for a moment, then nodded, grinning.
"In that case, fair lady, I gratefully accept." He joined her, bowing gracefully and offering her his arm. She nearly smiled, pushed him lightly ahead of her, and ignored the arm. He shrugged and led the way. She knew he knew where her quarters are. He made a point of not looking when she keyed in her code, although he probably knew that too. As the door slid open, she was oddly grateful that her quarters were always tidy, and that she had no random pieces of clothing scattered around. For some reason, she wanted to look good for him.
"Tea?" She offered.
"Only if you let me make it." He countered. "I'll show you how real tea's supposed to be made." Without waiting for permission, he headed for the kitchenette. She watched him move with a small smile, just as long as his back was turned. When he turned to face her, looking slightly sheepish, she was stern again. "Um, you'll need to show me where everything is."
"Yes, I will." She agreed, not unpleasantly. For some reason, tonight was simply the wrong night to pick a fight with him. She couldn't talk to Delenn, Sheridan had no idea, and Michael wouldn't talk about it yet- Marcus was her only chance. While he busied himself with the tea, rambling randomly about her selection and the lack of a proper china teapot, she picked up his forgotten book, resting on her couch, and leafed through it. At a closer look, she recognized the writing as Minbari. "What is this?"
He looked over at her and nearly dropped the cup he was holding. "Um..." He looked down and mumbled, almost too low for her to hear, "The teachings of Valen."
She'd suspected as much, but the answer still made her pause. Very carefully, she closed the book again and laid it back on the couch. "Any good?" She asked casually, regretting the words almost as soon as they were out. He gave her an injured look.
"They're not meant to be 'good', Susan, they're meant to be enlightening." He snapped. He could usually take whatever she threw at him calmly- as long as she was only insulting him. Irreverence towards what had become his religion, though, he wasn't willing to take. He marched over to the couch and took the book, holding it protectively against his chest.
"I- I'm sorry." Ivanova was genuinely regretful of her question, "It was a stupid question. I didn't mean it like that. I meant, is it helping?"
"Helping in what?" Mollified by her apology, Marcus carried the tea over from the kitchen and set it on the table. "Play mother."
She didn't quite understand the reference, but poured the tea anyway. Sipping it, she decided it was better not to tell him she couldn't sense any difference between his tea and the tea she usually prepared, except that this one wasn't laced with vodka. Then she considered his question. "You know with what."
"It helps me." He said simply, "But then, it always has."
In a way, it almost angered her, that this small, annoying, disrespectful, why-doesn't-she-kick-him-the-hell-out man was also hurt by Sinclair's...passing. She couldn't call it death. Not yet. It didn't feel like a death. It annoyed her that he shared her sorrow, and that in turn made her guilty. The mix never ended well for anybody. She finished her tea in a single gulp, searing her tongue and throat to stifle angry words. He had every right to feel sad. "Did you know him well?" She asked, almost against her will. She had to talk to someone.
"As well as any Ranger could get to know Entil'Zha. Better, maybe, because I spent most of my time training on Minbar. I joined the Rangers just after he became Entil'Zha. He...Helped me through a few tough spots. I wasn't very pleased with the world when I started my Ranger training, or with myself." There was a sad acceptance in his voice. "He was a good man."
"Yeah. He was. I just-"Ivanova stopped, looking for the best word. Oh, to hell with the best word! "I'm so angry with him sometimes! How could he have left like that! He knew it was coming, why didn't he tell us?"
"I don't think he knew, before he came here. And would you have let him go if he'd told you?"
Ivanova glared at him, then sunk back on the couch helplessly. "I don't know..."
"I get angry about it too, you know." Marcus moved closer to her. "Sometimes I think it would've been better if he'd stayed, or if somebody else became Valen or anything at all, but it was his Destiny."
"I don't believe in destiny." Ivanova groused. "I know he had to go back or destroy history and get us all killed, but damnit, why now? We need him around! Couldn't he have waited?"
"You're just being silly now, Susan." Marcus took her hand gently. She didn't take it away. "He's gone, and we need to fight this war and make his little trip across time worthwhile. You can't brood over it forever."
"I'm not brooding!" She exclaimed, "And I'm not being silly." She pulled her hand away, hugging herself, "I'm missing my friend." Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and there was nothing Marcus wanted more than to hold her and comfort her and kiss her, not in any particular order. "You know, it's strange...When he was away on Minbar, I didn't miss him much. There was always so much to do, and after a while I got used to him not being around, but he was still there, even if he never called or visited. And now I'd like to keep pretending he's still there, but I can't."
"In a way he still is, you know." Marcus waved the book at her, "He's remembered by all Minbari, and several other races. His spirit is still with us."
He was spouting cliches, and Susan thought for a second that she should be angry, except the cliches were helping, surprisingly. "Isn't it odd, that we personally knew a guy who's become a god to an entire race?" She asked, "I mean, I've fought with him, and yelled at him, and he's yelled at me, and...Not really the sort of person I'd see reaching divinity, really." She scrubbed her eyes with one hand, not admitting they were getting out of her iron control.
"He was special." Marcus took her hand again. "His words calm a war, united the Minbari people and helped them defeat the Shadows. He was very special. And divinity wasn't really up to him- they made him their god, wrote down his words, kept his memory alive. It really does help if you think of Valen and Sinclair as two different people," He smiled sadly, his eyes showing what he couldn't and wouldn't tell her yet, and she didn't noticed, "But then, time travel gives me a headache."
"Can you translate it?" Susan asked, pointing at the book. "I've heard G'kar insist that his holy books can't be read in anything other than Narn- are Minbari the same?"
"Hardly. Valen- Sinclair, rather, encouraged them to teach others their own wisdom, as well as his. That's why the Rangers were opened to humans. Would you like me to read some for you?"
"Would you?" Hearing the words, finding Sinclair's voice in them, would probably help. And Marcus did have a nice, soothing voice, when he wasn't cracking jokes. "I'd like that."
"Alright." Marcus tried to look much calmer than he felt. This was much closer than he'd ever hoped to get to her. Close enough to touch, to smell her hair. It was very nice, altogether, and he sent up a short but heartfelt thanks to Valen, who even as a human seemed to be on his side. "Settle down, get comfy." She was already in civilian clothes, and as she leaned back against him, looking for all intents and purposes like a child about to hear a bedtime story, he thought he'd either melt or explode. Luckily, he was a well trained Ranger, able to control his baser needs for the greater good. Also, he reminded himself sternly, he was still in danger of a slow and painful death if he put a foot- or a hand- wrong. He started at the beginning, and soon found his stride, adding life and color to the words. It wasn't until he reached a certain passage and she shot up, nearly hitting her head on his chin, that he realized her head was practically in his lap.
"Read that again."
"Wha- Gods, Susan, don't scare me like that." He thought he'd been about to die. Regaining breath and composure, he re-read the passage. It was a simple thought about the perpetuity of life and the need to be remembered by history in a positive fashion.
"Son of a bitch." Susan whispered, "He said that to me, to us, several times way back when he was here. That, and that stuff about saying what's in your heart only when it won't get you into excessive trouble. That's a very human outlook on life. I can't believe his lectures have become part of a religion."
"All religion is composed of lectures, Susan, when you get right down to it." He replied, "Now hush, you're breaking my rhythm."
"Don't you hush me!" She almost got up, but he pushed her back down lightly with a hand on her shoulder.
"Do you really want me to go?"
Come on, Ivanova, admit it, "Not really." She returned to her 'listening' position. It was really very calming, and hearing her friend's words in an ancient book somehow made the whole thing more real. As Marcus started reading again, she gradually relaxed more and more, finally falling asleep. It took him nearly half an hour to notice. Very carefully, he moved her aside and stood up.
She was sound asleep- he could do almost anything and she'd never know. But he couldn't- it would be an abuse of an unexpected privilege, and he was far too much of a gentleman, and far too fond of life, for that. He settled for kissing his own fingers and pressing them quickly against her cheek before throwing a cover over her and leaving silently, radiating a quiet joy that lasted well into the next day.
The next evening, Ivanova found a copy of the teaching of Valen, in Earth Standard English, resting on her desk at C&C. When asked, not one of her people would tell her who put it there, even under threats. She let them off with only the tiniest dressing down, to keep her image, and if there was an extra bounce to her step, no one was foolish enough to comment on it.