Day 2
0300
Susan lay in bed, now unable to sleep through thoughts of another kind. She was covered in scars. White lines all over her. She'd only noticed them when she'd showered. She began to wonder how extensive the damage had been to her, and what measures the Minbari had taken in trying to save her.
She knew her neck had been broken, and there was a great deal of internal damage. All the rest had been kept from her when she was on the Minbari ship. When she asked questions, Marcus just asked her to sleep. She supposed he'd been trying to keep her from dwelling on what she was dying of particularly. He was dwelling on her enough for the both of them. And look where that had gotten him- Comatose in med lab.
Sighing and opening her eyes, Susan looked skyward- despite the fact she was in space on a giant rotational axis- it was the only direction she could look to, to find her maker. God, she thought. Just me again. Look, about the Atheist moron in med-lab. I'm sure if you two were on speaking terms he'd of had a conversation to you about me- but as things are- I'm talking to you about him. Is there anyway you could have him wake up long enough for me to slap some sense into him? It wouldn't have to be for long, just a thought Lord. Another thing God, why am I alive?
No answer came. To be honest Ivanova wasn't too surprised. God was probably busy trying to work out why he bothered creating man in the first place. Too busy to have a deep spiritual chat with a wayward Jew. Especially one who suffered from the delusion he had an English accent.
Susan thought back to last week, when her life was a lot more simple in terms of relationships.
*************
He was singing again. It had started quietly and only to himself, but now she could her it from the other side of the bridge of the white star. Ivanova grit her teeth, he was really irritating her right now. He's only attention seeking, she told herself. He wants you to get mad at him. He enjoys it. It was no good. Either he shut up or she killed him.
"Sixty-four bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-four bottles of beer-"
"Marcus!" Susan yelled clutching the arms of her chair and swivelling around to face him.
He looked up with a face that very well portrayed a fake picture of innocence. "Yeh-hes?" He intoned a little too pleased with himself. Susan responded with a glare that had sent dome techs fleeing in terror. Deciding to give her a break Marcus stopped. Maybe now was a bad time to wind her up, she was tired and probably running out of patience. "Look," He began, dropping the childish routine. "Why don't you go and some sleep?"
"Why don't you shut up?" Susan snapped at him. She realised very quickly that he was attempting to be serious at that moment. She'd hurt his feelings- and as she'd be stuck with him on the same ship for god-knows-how- long, or until Earth was liberated, she apologised quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm a little edgy."
"That's alright-"He dismissed his dislike of being told to shut up, gathering that he probably deserved it. "Getting bored anyway." They both paused. Ivanova didn't turn the command chair back towards the front of the bridge, she wanted to say something else, but the words never came. Unable to cope with silence, Marcus started again, "Wanna play I-spy?"
"No" She intoned firmly.
"Ten green bottles?" he continued. "Pin the tail on the Drazi?"
Susan laughed. It wasn't that funny, but she was so tired she'd laugh at anything. Besides, it'd appease Marcus for a matter of seconds
"Ha!" He pointed victoriously. "Made you smirk."
She shook her head, with the corners of her mouth still upturned. She had to change the subject before he started again. "How long before we get there?"
He glanced downwards at the console he was standing at. "Six hours." Marcus reported before moving back over to the second officers chair. "You want to talk comics? Marvel, D.C- your choice?" Susan glared at him again as he sat down. "Sorry, a little more sophistication for you. Playwrights?"
Susan sighed, aware she was about to become an unwitting participant in one of his games again. But through sheer boredom, she played along. "Like who?"
"Wilde, Chekov, Euripides, Marlowe" He listed, deliberately not saying Sheridan. "..., Ibsen?"
Her eyes widened. "Peer Gynt?"
Marcus smiled and confirmed his familiarity with the play. "Onions, trolls and salvation."
"You like it?" She asked widening her eyes- it was all part of the game.
"Of course." Marcus replied. Ivanova shook her head dismissively. "What?" He asked, curious to know what was wrong with the play in question.
"I always thought you were strange." She replied, deciding for once she was going to initiate the baiting part of the game.
"Charming!" Marcus exclaimed completely over dramatising his reaction. "I'll remember this when you forget to conjugate the verb to raise shields and start speaking about lingerie to the crew again."
Susan glared again. This could turn into all out war- which due to her concentration on the conflicts outside of the ship, left her to say nothing in reply. She turned the seat back towards the front of the bridge.
Marcus let it go for about ten seconds, then decided he'd try again. "Would you like me to sing again?"
She sighed and looked to him. "Can't you be quiet for more than twenty seconds?"
For a moment he considered, looking skyward and mulling it over. "Nope."
She went quiet again. She was thinking about Sheridan, she blamed herself again. It was foolish, pointless- and reminded him too much of himself. "You know when you're worried you're no fun."
Shaking her head, she turned the command chair back to face him."I told John not to trust Garibaldi, I knew something wasn't right there."
"Did you tell him that? He asked.
"Yeah. I even asked him to take you along."
Marcus took a moment to consider this. Maybe if he put her mind to rest she'd go and get some sleep. "And as he didn't listen to the advice you gave him- it's naturally your fault?"
She smiled a little at his trademark irony. He did have a point. "Something like that."
"Look," He sighed leaning forward, "Susan. There's no point beating yourself up over something you had no control over and wasn't your fault. Things'll work out in the end. They always do."
She noticed he was leaning rather close to her and had lowered his voice. If she didn't know him better she'd of expected him to put a hand on her knee. Just try it she thought. You'll be singing soprano for the rest of your life. However, her spoken word was quite different to her thoughts. "I'm a pessimist, I don't believe that for a minute."
"I'm a cynic." He said leaning back in his chair, making her feel slightly bad about her last line of thought. "I just said that to make you feel better."
Ivanova laughed a little again. He was only trying to help. "Thanks Marcus."
"You're welcome." He responded in kind before backtracking. "D'you like Bob Dylan?"
*********** ) ) ) ) ) ) )
1300
Stephen sat with his feet resting on the console in med-lab. He was worried about Susan. She'd taken the news pretty well... too well for his liking. When she'd returned to med-lab an hour ago after getting very little sleep, she'd asked about the extent of her injuries. He'd had no idea himself, and checked what the Minbari doctors had said in their notes on her.
He took her to a side room to tell her. She listened and nodded. She even joked about it. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about a month." He saw that it hurt her. Deep down she was hurt by the news greatly. But she didn't cry. Didn't go into shock. Didn't even go into denial. She just took it silently. She had taken his advice and gone home and tried to sleep again.
It wasn't necessarily in her plans, but she'd had the decision made for her, and not even unrequited love and an alien healing device could change that. It was unfair, but at least she was alive. As for Marcus...
No change. The silence was un-nerving. Marcus had once told him that he had a theory, that if you prepare yourself for the worst then you can walk away unscathed. So much for that...If Marcus woke up he'd have hell of a problem walking away, let alone unscathed. Perhaps a life of tempting fate would have to result in a death he had to walk directly into. No, he wasn't dead yet. If Marcus was going to continue in a long line of stubbornness he'd make it.
The thing that bothered Stephen the most though was that Marcus had left a note. It was a suicide note. He'd tried to kill himself. He was supposed to be quite close to Marcus, hell he was a Doctor, how could he have missed him having suicidal tendencies? He supposed Marcus was always self destructive. It was understandable, he'd lost everything in his entire life and had to start again. He'd never forgiven himself for what happened to his brother. If a human being was meant to be the sum of experience, then it was a wonder Marcus didn't try to do this more often. When he'd faced Neroon he was willing to die, but recently he hadn't taken as many risks, he'd been more careful with himself. Perhaps in Ivanova he'd found something worth living for.
Franklin reached forward and sipped his stone cold coffee. It was sickeningly sweet and topped up with supposed milk. Ivanova would consider it blasphemy. He stared at the brown liquid in the cup, The milk had congealed slightly at the top in little white strokes.
A voice standing in the doorway brought him out of his line of though.
"Yes," He replied to his name being called, replacing his coffee on the edge of the console.
"It's Ranger Cole doctor, the internal bleedings getting a lot worse." A large male tech informed him.
Stephen stood immediately and made his way over to the isolab. Damn. "Is his cellular production any better?"
"No doctor," The tech continued as they entered the iso-lab. Unsurprisingly, Marcus hadn't moved. "Haemorrhaging is visible under the skin."
"Where?" Stephen asked glancing at the chart.
"Upper left abdomen," The tech folded back Marcus' clothing to show the left side under his rib cage. Areas of the skin were turning a dark purple.
Stephen looked and sighed. He had no choice.
"Alright, prep him." Stephen rubbed his eyes tiredly. "While he's open we'll do a spleenectomy. If he's not bleeding from there now he probably will later."
"Should I call Commander Ivanova?" The tech asked.
Franklin thought for a moment. She'd just stand outside the iso-lab and get nervous. With any luck, he'd be done before she came back.
"No," Stephen decided.
************ ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) )
1900
Susan re-entered med-lab to find Stephen wearing scrubs, and looking as if he had just collapsed into his chair. He seemed downfallen as he snatched the cap from his head. Something had happened.
He looked up to see her then stood. "Susan," he began, there's been a problem."
Ivanova stepped forward a little angry at Stephen for excluding her. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I'm sorry Susan," Stephen began, "The internal bleeding just got too heavy. I had to open him then or-"
"Did you stop it?" She asked, her heart becoming sick of this emotional crash landing.
"I removed his spleen- that's where a good deal of the blood was coming from. It seems to have helped."
"But?"
Stephen gestured for her to sit down. She refused, aware that the gesture was meant to signal bad news.
"Susan," he said as he touched her arm, "During surgery, he went into respiratory distress. That's quite possibly a sign that his body's shutting down."
"Oh God Stephen." She whispered, sitting down of her own accord. She understood why people were always sat down before bad news now. The weight of the world fell upon the recipients of bad news.
Stephen knelt in front of her, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.
"I have to ask you, that if it comes to it- would you want extreme or evasive measures used?"
Her eyes met Stephens, feeling the bitterness of loss tainting her again. "When did I get power of attorney?" she whispered resentfully.
"I didn't think it was my place to make a soul decision," Franklin added. "What do you want to do?"
Susan looked to the iso-lab, and to Marcus, trying to remember how he was. Smiling with delusions of grandeur, chuckling to himself at her blunders in the Minbari language, his patented sarcasm and deliberate offensiveness- if he wasn't any of these things anymore... she shook her head.
"He wouldn't want it. We have to honour that."
"Okay," Stephen nodded, somehow hoping her reply would be along this line, that she wouldn't cling to a lost cause.
"Is this it Stephen?" She asked reluctantly.
"Maybe. Unless he picks up during the night- we'll loose him."
Susan put her head in her hands and cried, weary and in silence. Not for her- Marcus couldn't be lost for her. Why didn't he just come out and say he loved her?
0300
Susan lay in bed, now unable to sleep through thoughts of another kind. She was covered in scars. White lines all over her. She'd only noticed them when she'd showered. She began to wonder how extensive the damage had been to her, and what measures the Minbari had taken in trying to save her.
She knew her neck had been broken, and there was a great deal of internal damage. All the rest had been kept from her when she was on the Minbari ship. When she asked questions, Marcus just asked her to sleep. She supposed he'd been trying to keep her from dwelling on what she was dying of particularly. He was dwelling on her enough for the both of them. And look where that had gotten him- Comatose in med lab.
Sighing and opening her eyes, Susan looked skyward- despite the fact she was in space on a giant rotational axis- it was the only direction she could look to, to find her maker. God, she thought. Just me again. Look, about the Atheist moron in med-lab. I'm sure if you two were on speaking terms he'd of had a conversation to you about me- but as things are- I'm talking to you about him. Is there anyway you could have him wake up long enough for me to slap some sense into him? It wouldn't have to be for long, just a thought Lord. Another thing God, why am I alive?
No answer came. To be honest Ivanova wasn't too surprised. God was probably busy trying to work out why he bothered creating man in the first place. Too busy to have a deep spiritual chat with a wayward Jew. Especially one who suffered from the delusion he had an English accent.
Susan thought back to last week, when her life was a lot more simple in terms of relationships.
*************
He was singing again. It had started quietly and only to himself, but now she could her it from the other side of the bridge of the white star. Ivanova grit her teeth, he was really irritating her right now. He's only attention seeking, she told herself. He wants you to get mad at him. He enjoys it. It was no good. Either he shut up or she killed him.
"Sixty-four bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-four bottles of beer-"
"Marcus!" Susan yelled clutching the arms of her chair and swivelling around to face him.
He looked up with a face that very well portrayed a fake picture of innocence. "Yeh-hes?" He intoned a little too pleased with himself. Susan responded with a glare that had sent dome techs fleeing in terror. Deciding to give her a break Marcus stopped. Maybe now was a bad time to wind her up, she was tired and probably running out of patience. "Look," He began, dropping the childish routine. "Why don't you go and some sleep?"
"Why don't you shut up?" Susan snapped at him. She realised very quickly that he was attempting to be serious at that moment. She'd hurt his feelings- and as she'd be stuck with him on the same ship for god-knows-how- long, or until Earth was liberated, she apologised quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm a little edgy."
"That's alright-"He dismissed his dislike of being told to shut up, gathering that he probably deserved it. "Getting bored anyway." They both paused. Ivanova didn't turn the command chair back towards the front of the bridge, she wanted to say something else, but the words never came. Unable to cope with silence, Marcus started again, "Wanna play I-spy?"
"No" She intoned firmly.
"Ten green bottles?" he continued. "Pin the tail on the Drazi?"
Susan laughed. It wasn't that funny, but she was so tired she'd laugh at anything. Besides, it'd appease Marcus for a matter of seconds
"Ha!" He pointed victoriously. "Made you smirk."
She shook her head, with the corners of her mouth still upturned. She had to change the subject before he started again. "How long before we get there?"
He glanced downwards at the console he was standing at. "Six hours." Marcus reported before moving back over to the second officers chair. "You want to talk comics? Marvel, D.C- your choice?" Susan glared at him again as he sat down. "Sorry, a little more sophistication for you. Playwrights?"
Susan sighed, aware she was about to become an unwitting participant in one of his games again. But through sheer boredom, she played along. "Like who?"
"Wilde, Chekov, Euripides, Marlowe" He listed, deliberately not saying Sheridan. "..., Ibsen?"
Her eyes widened. "Peer Gynt?"
Marcus smiled and confirmed his familiarity with the play. "Onions, trolls and salvation."
"You like it?" She asked widening her eyes- it was all part of the game.
"Of course." Marcus replied. Ivanova shook her head dismissively. "What?" He asked, curious to know what was wrong with the play in question.
"I always thought you were strange." She replied, deciding for once she was going to initiate the baiting part of the game.
"Charming!" Marcus exclaimed completely over dramatising his reaction. "I'll remember this when you forget to conjugate the verb to raise shields and start speaking about lingerie to the crew again."
Susan glared again. This could turn into all out war- which due to her concentration on the conflicts outside of the ship, left her to say nothing in reply. She turned the seat back towards the front of the bridge.
Marcus let it go for about ten seconds, then decided he'd try again. "Would you like me to sing again?"
She sighed and looked to him. "Can't you be quiet for more than twenty seconds?"
For a moment he considered, looking skyward and mulling it over. "Nope."
She went quiet again. She was thinking about Sheridan, she blamed herself again. It was foolish, pointless- and reminded him too much of himself. "You know when you're worried you're no fun."
Shaking her head, she turned the command chair back to face him."I told John not to trust Garibaldi, I knew something wasn't right there."
"Did you tell him that? He asked.
"Yeah. I even asked him to take you along."
Marcus took a moment to consider this. Maybe if he put her mind to rest she'd go and get some sleep. "And as he didn't listen to the advice you gave him- it's naturally your fault?"
She smiled a little at his trademark irony. He did have a point. "Something like that."
"Look," He sighed leaning forward, "Susan. There's no point beating yourself up over something you had no control over and wasn't your fault. Things'll work out in the end. They always do."
She noticed he was leaning rather close to her and had lowered his voice. If she didn't know him better she'd of expected him to put a hand on her knee. Just try it she thought. You'll be singing soprano for the rest of your life. However, her spoken word was quite different to her thoughts. "I'm a pessimist, I don't believe that for a minute."
"I'm a cynic." He said leaning back in his chair, making her feel slightly bad about her last line of thought. "I just said that to make you feel better."
Ivanova laughed a little again. He was only trying to help. "Thanks Marcus."
"You're welcome." He responded in kind before backtracking. "D'you like Bob Dylan?"
*********** ) ) ) ) ) ) )
1300
Stephen sat with his feet resting on the console in med-lab. He was worried about Susan. She'd taken the news pretty well... too well for his liking. When she'd returned to med-lab an hour ago after getting very little sleep, she'd asked about the extent of her injuries. He'd had no idea himself, and checked what the Minbari doctors had said in their notes on her.
He took her to a side room to tell her. She listened and nodded. She even joked about it. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about a month." He saw that it hurt her. Deep down she was hurt by the news greatly. But she didn't cry. Didn't go into shock. Didn't even go into denial. She just took it silently. She had taken his advice and gone home and tried to sleep again.
It wasn't necessarily in her plans, but she'd had the decision made for her, and not even unrequited love and an alien healing device could change that. It was unfair, but at least she was alive. As for Marcus...
No change. The silence was un-nerving. Marcus had once told him that he had a theory, that if you prepare yourself for the worst then you can walk away unscathed. So much for that...If Marcus woke up he'd have hell of a problem walking away, let alone unscathed. Perhaps a life of tempting fate would have to result in a death he had to walk directly into. No, he wasn't dead yet. If Marcus was going to continue in a long line of stubbornness he'd make it.
The thing that bothered Stephen the most though was that Marcus had left a note. It was a suicide note. He'd tried to kill himself. He was supposed to be quite close to Marcus, hell he was a Doctor, how could he have missed him having suicidal tendencies? He supposed Marcus was always self destructive. It was understandable, he'd lost everything in his entire life and had to start again. He'd never forgiven himself for what happened to his brother. If a human being was meant to be the sum of experience, then it was a wonder Marcus didn't try to do this more often. When he'd faced Neroon he was willing to die, but recently he hadn't taken as many risks, he'd been more careful with himself. Perhaps in Ivanova he'd found something worth living for.
Franklin reached forward and sipped his stone cold coffee. It was sickeningly sweet and topped up with supposed milk. Ivanova would consider it blasphemy. He stared at the brown liquid in the cup, The milk had congealed slightly at the top in little white strokes.
A voice standing in the doorway brought him out of his line of though.
"Yes," He replied to his name being called, replacing his coffee on the edge of the console.
"It's Ranger Cole doctor, the internal bleedings getting a lot worse." A large male tech informed him.
Stephen stood immediately and made his way over to the isolab. Damn. "Is his cellular production any better?"
"No doctor," The tech continued as they entered the iso-lab. Unsurprisingly, Marcus hadn't moved. "Haemorrhaging is visible under the skin."
"Where?" Stephen asked glancing at the chart.
"Upper left abdomen," The tech folded back Marcus' clothing to show the left side under his rib cage. Areas of the skin were turning a dark purple.
Stephen looked and sighed. He had no choice.
"Alright, prep him." Stephen rubbed his eyes tiredly. "While he's open we'll do a spleenectomy. If he's not bleeding from there now he probably will later."
"Should I call Commander Ivanova?" The tech asked.
Franklin thought for a moment. She'd just stand outside the iso-lab and get nervous. With any luck, he'd be done before she came back.
"No," Stephen decided.
************ ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) )
1900
Susan re-entered med-lab to find Stephen wearing scrubs, and looking as if he had just collapsed into his chair. He seemed downfallen as he snatched the cap from his head. Something had happened.
He looked up to see her then stood. "Susan," he began, there's been a problem."
Ivanova stepped forward a little angry at Stephen for excluding her. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I'm sorry Susan," Stephen began, "The internal bleeding just got too heavy. I had to open him then or-"
"Did you stop it?" She asked, her heart becoming sick of this emotional crash landing.
"I removed his spleen- that's where a good deal of the blood was coming from. It seems to have helped."
"But?"
Stephen gestured for her to sit down. She refused, aware that the gesture was meant to signal bad news.
"Susan," he said as he touched her arm, "During surgery, he went into respiratory distress. That's quite possibly a sign that his body's shutting down."
"Oh God Stephen." She whispered, sitting down of her own accord. She understood why people were always sat down before bad news now. The weight of the world fell upon the recipients of bad news.
Stephen knelt in front of her, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.
"I have to ask you, that if it comes to it- would you want extreme or evasive measures used?"
Her eyes met Stephens, feeling the bitterness of loss tainting her again. "When did I get power of attorney?" she whispered resentfully.
"I didn't think it was my place to make a soul decision," Franklin added. "What do you want to do?"
Susan looked to the iso-lab, and to Marcus, trying to remember how he was. Smiling with delusions of grandeur, chuckling to himself at her blunders in the Minbari language, his patented sarcasm and deliberate offensiveness- if he wasn't any of these things anymore... she shook her head.
"He wouldn't want it. We have to honour that."
"Okay," Stephen nodded, somehow hoping her reply would be along this line, that she wouldn't cling to a lost cause.
"Is this it Stephen?" She asked reluctantly.
"Maybe. Unless he picks up during the night- we'll loose him."
Susan put her head in her hands and cried, weary and in silence. Not for her- Marcus couldn't be lost for her. Why didn't he just come out and say he loved her?