Day 5
It was pitch. Marcus could see nothing but void. He felt completely dis- embodied. He couldn't feel his legs, there was no floor so to speak of. The best word for this would be- abyss.
How long had he been here? Where was here? Was he dead?
Marcus tried to speak, but found no sound. He came very quickly to the conclusion that he was pretty damn scared. Perhaps being an Atheist wasn't such a good idea.
0528
His hand had been withered. She hadn't remembered before, but it came to her from some subconscious line of thought. In her dream Marcus left hand was terribly scarred, and he had a finger missing. It was strange that she though of this now. The image had been ghastly, and admittedly now she shrunk away with revulsion at the very though of it, as it reached forward and touched the tears on her face. But not in the dream. What happened to him? Perhaps it had been an accident...why was she even thinking this line of thought? It was a dream. A random collection of thoughts that gathered together in her head and conveyed themselves through imagery. Nothing more. Perhaps. She had to get away from these thoughts, they were making her headache worse.
How should she wear her hair this morning? Up? No, she'd broken her last hair tie playing cats cradle with it in Med lab. She made a note to herself to pick some up at the Zocalo later. She brushed the hair on the left side, finding it tangled and knotted. Great, now it was going to frizz up everywhere. The universe hated her. It was the only logical conclusion she could arrive at. Maybe she should cut it off and start again. No, short hair really didn't suit her- besides her neck would keep getting cold for the first month.
Her vision suddenly blurred for a moment and Susan wobbled on her feet in front of the mirror. She caught hold of the chair and breathed deeply, what the hell was that? There was a buzzing noise, a low hum that lay on the edge of her awareness. It got louder, until she could hear individual parts of the cacophony. Individual voices, getting louder, yelling, screaming- then it suddenly stopped.
What the hell was going on? Was she loosing her marbles? Or were those voices-
The door rang, cutting her off in mid thought. Trying to dismiss what had happened, Ivanova went to answer it.
"Yes?" She asked, rubbing her tired eyes as she reached the door. Who the hell would be calling by at this time of morning?
"It's Zac Allen Ma'am." Came the voice over the intercom. It was about time he turned up. "Can I come in?"
"Open." She commanded, wondering what Zac wanted. He hadn't bothered her thus far, maybe they had a major incident going on. That's right Susan. Look for the worst. Maybe he just wanted to say hi.
"Commander-"Zac began as he stepped in the door- his mistake quickly coming to him. "Sorry, Captain." He corrected himself, keeping his friendly and naturally disarming manner. Zac was one of those people everyone liked. There was nothing to dislike about him, he wasn't rude (at least to her) or self righteous – like some other people of the sex she was familiar with, like a certain Ranger.
"Don't worry, I'm not used to it yet." She dismissed his error, not really noticing until he had corrected himself. "Captain Ivanova", that would take some getting used to she had to admit. "Is there something I can do for you Zac?"
"Not as such." He replied, pacing un-intrusively around her living space, looking around and particularly paying attention to anything written in Russian. "I was wondering if you were heading back to med-lab anytime soon?" He finally asked, trying not to be intrusive with his question also.
"Just about to." Susan replied, sitting on the arm of the couch, resting her legs that were already tired from standing. She had to regain some sort of sleep pattern before she went insane from sleep deprivation.
"How's he doing?" Zac asked politely, but getting straight to the subject. She liked that about Zac. He didn't talk too much or avoid subject matter either.
"Better." She began, weakly smiling. "He's not awake yet but- Stephen says it wont be long."
"Good, good." Zac nodded his head, genuinely glad to hear such news. Then, he paused. Formulating his next line of thought into spoken word. She was gonna hate this. "We kinda have a problem." He stated.
Typical man. Beating around the bush before getting to the real problem.
"As soon as the press got wind of you being alive they started hounding CNC with requests for interviews. We didn't pass it on, we figured you didn't need the hassle." Susan assumed the "We" was Zac, Corwin and Stephen. Well, she supposed she should appreciate their concern and consideration.
Zac continued. "About three hours ago a dozen reporters came on board, I posted this corridor a no go zone- but they're lining the way to med-lab." He grimaced apologetically. He hated the news. The way it exploited peoples misery and interfered with personal lives, especially when it infringed on his life. "I figured I should ask you if you want them gone."
Susan thought for a moment. This was not helping her headache, but the last thing she needed now was bad press. "No-"She finally replied. "Freedom of speech is one of the things we've been fighting for. They're free to ask questions, I just don't have to answer them."
"Fair enough." Zac replied, glad he didn't have to get the riot squad out, but still unhappy with the idea of a mob of reporters waiting for his superior. "I better escort you though." He added, knowing how she would react to this.
"I don't need an escort Zac." She remarked, without resentment. He was probably over-reacting. But he was security chief, it was better that he over-reacted than did nothing she supposed.
"I know, I know." He insisted holding his hands up to suggest that he was only the messenger of this scheme. "But Mr Garibaldi called and kinda made me promise to keep an eye on you."
She should of counted on Michael. She'd briefly had the events surrounding Sheridans' jailbreak and Garibaldis manipulation by Bester. Stephen believed it, and so did Zac. She supposed she should... but she'd been hateful towards him since the moment she heard of Sheridans capture. Starting to hate was easy. Learning to let go of it was difficult. She supposed this is where she had to begin to let it go.
"Typical Garibaldi." She smiled, feeling the traits of her old friend returning though the sentiment.
"Uh huh." Zac smiled thoughtfully, evidently happy that Garibaldi had been vindicated. This was Michaels way of working her trust back up- but Zac felt giving her a push in the right direction wouldn't hurt. "But I guess you're lucky to have so many people care about you."
"Yeah, I guess. "She murmured, standing straight, and making her intension to leave.
"C'mon," He nodded his head toward the door. "I've never been on the news before."
Then it all changed. He was lying on his back, sparks showered everywhere. A piece of the ceiling was falling toward him- he rolled over and out of the way. The bridge of the white star was in pieces.
Susan.
Where was Susan?
Fuck.
Dazed, Marcus pulled himself to his feet. She was buried under the debris somewhere. He yelled her name. A console behind him burned. Then he saw her, crushed under a piece of the fallen bridge.
Fuck.
He pulled the metal out of the way. She wasn't moving.
God no. Not again.
He tried to lift her, but her tall stature made it difficult. He tried again, staggering under her weight.
Not again.
0542
The noise was incredible. Susan kept in pace behind Zac, but repeatedly had flashbulbs going off and microphones being shoved in her face. Zac turned around, pushed the nearest microphone away from her and yelled. "Okay move! Coming through please!" The noise continued.
"Captain Ivanova!"
"Captain, how do you respond to the rumour you were dying?"
"What do you think of Sheridans' appointment as president?"
"Will you give a short statement?"
This was horrible. She was disorientated by the sheer number of people yelling her name simultaneously. On second thought she was glad Zac was here. But she wished for Michael even more. She could of used his support in the last few days.
"Back off! Excuse me please!" Zac yelled above the horrendous din.
A microphone was again thrust into her face by a sleazy looking reporter. "Captain! What do you think of the rangers' involvement in the war?"
"No comment." She mumbled, aware she was approaching the T.V cameras.
"What about Earth destroyers fighting each other?"
"Did Babylon 5 supply evidence with the implication that President Santiago was indeed assassinated?"
She reached the end of the line of reporters, and found herself stood by an ISN crew, who put forward at least a reasonable question.
"What do you intend to do next Captain?"
Susan paused, about to answer. Zac lent forward and spoke to the entire hoard. "No more questions please!"
"It's okay Zac." She said turning to them. They'd come a long way, for very little. She could at least wet their appetite for a story. "Look-"She began, facing away from the camera. "I need to decide where my heart belongs before the rest of me can follow."
With that she turned on her heel and walked away, still hearing the reporters, crying out for attention like spoilt children.
"Captain!"
"Captain, a moment of your time."
He was back in the abyss. Except this time he was lying on a floor, cold and hard. He shivered and swallowed, finding himself caught in a limbo of self aware unconsciousness. A voice came to him from nearby. Someone called his name. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time.
"William," He breathed, recognising his younger brothers voice.
Marcus didn't want to stay down. He rolled over and sat up, the whole of his surroundings was sheer darkness. And from that Darkness he saw William standing in front of him.
"Hi Marcus," William smiled down at him.
"What's going on?" Marcus asked, dis-orientated and dopey. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. He had at least that amount of logical reasoning left in his brain.
"You're dreaming."
Well that in itself made sense.
"Why are you here?" Marcus asked, rubbing his eyes. His vision wasn't clearing.
"Who can say?" Replied William as he knelt beside his older brother. He clapped his hand on Marcus shoulder. "You're gonna be alright Marcus." He whispered reassuringly, as if he was aware of something Marcus was not.
"But I killed you," Marcus intoned.
William shook his head and frowned, he spoke to Marcus severely. "No you didn't. You have to stop thinking like that."
Marcus lay on the floor again, exhausted, not quite understanding what was going on. "I'm so tired," He mumbled more to himself than to William.
He looked up at William one last time, who smiled again.
"Wake up Marcus."
1454
Susan dozed with her palm help to her temple, her hand wrapped firmly around Marcus'. She gripped his fingers like a lifeline to a drowning person. She just had to wait it out now, all it was now, was a matter of time. The last few days had taken their toll on her, and for now she was just awake enough to hear voices or feel movement.
Sounds. Beeping this time. A monitor. His chest heaved, moving oxygen. His body was so heavy, too heavy to support. Pain. Dull aching everywhere. A splintering headache right behind his eyes. Nausea, sickness like he was going to expel his internal organs. His mouth was dry, his limbs unmovable. He was waking up. He had to move. Cold sweat dripped cautiously down his neck, and something was wrapped around his hand. His skin was crawling with unpleasant sensation. He twitched his hand to try to rid himself of it.
Ivanova felt the skin of her hand brush against the movement of other skin. She was woken up with her fingers moving. She opened her eyes to see Marcus hand twitch slightly.
He moved.
"Marcus," She spoke, squeezing his hand, seizing at any sign of life. "STEPHEN!"
Somebody next to him stirred, waking up quickly from sleep. A voice reached him, calling his name, squeezing his hand. His lungs felt congested, his chest ached. But these were all good signs. It let him know he was alive.
Stephen ran through the door, alert to anything he may be asked for. The cry had been one of urgency. "What?"
"He moved his hand." Susan reported, the words coming out so quickly they sounded as one.
Franklin picked up a scanner and activated it. "Could be reflex," He commented, trying not to get her hopes up. The last thing she needed was to see the end, only to have it knocked down again. However, he smiled when he saw the reading the scanner gave. "His neural activity just jumped."
Stephen reached into his pocket and got out the small torch he kept there in case he was ever needed on hand. The torch may have been a little archaic, but his father had always taught him that "Prior preparation prevents poor performance." He lifted Marcus left eyelid and shone the light into his eye. He saw the pupil contract, in front of him.
"Marcus, can you hear me?"
As Stephen went to check the other eye, Marcus showed a definite sign of life by turning his head in the other direction, and groaning. A voice they had been long awaiting spoke:
"Stop shining that bloody light in my eyes!"
The words were barely formed but audible. Marcus mouth was dry, he lips had been difficult to separate after his period of unconsciousness. Stephen couldn't help but smile at the characteristic choice of phrase. He looked to Susan grinning with relief, "I'd say patient is responsive."
Marcus opened his eyes gradually, blinking several times, trying to clear his vision. The light in med-lab was painfully bright, and was obstructed by two figures leaning over him. He screwed up his eyes, not finding the strength in his arms to physically rub the sleep from them. Eventually, he saw both Stephen and Susan leaning over him. "I thought I was dead." He croaked, feeling his lips cracking with dehydration. The weight of his own body seemed to restrict his ability to breathe. He felt like a fleet of Pak'ma'ra were sitting on top of him. Marcus felt his body ache from his ribs through to his shoulders. Oh, he wished he were still unconscious.
"No," Franklin said, avoiding trying to sound annoyed at him, seeing the discomfort he was facing, and how counter productive upsetting him would be. "Just damned lucky."
Ivanova was unconcerned at keeping her cool any longer. She's been through hell for the past five days for him, for a completely reckless action on his part. Susan let go of his hand and let it lie limply on the bed. She was madder than hell at him with good reasoning, and she had every right to give him a piece of her mind. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"Sorry," he murmured closing his eyes again, "I'll do better next time."
"Next time!" She yelled incredulously, not amused at all at his gallant display of self contempt. "This isn't funny Marcus, you nearly died!"
He was about to return with a witty retort when a stabbing pain hit Marcus in the chest, he cried out and involuntarily threw his head back. He panted out a reply in short breath, alarmed by the pain he was suddenly enduring. "You're right. This isn't funny."
Ivanova felt a wave of concern come over her again. At least when he was unconscious he showed no signs of being in pain. Now he was writhing around, despite his extreme physical weakness. She gripped his hand tightly again, feeling his fingers tighten back around hers.
His internal organs were on fire. The sheer amount of pain made him feel as if he'd pass out. His muscles tightened and he gasped, choking on agony.
Stephen grabbed his arm and injected the morphine into his bloodstream. He continued to writhe around, endangering the area where he'd been cut open a few days ago. Those stitches were not gonna hold if he kept this up. "Easy! Easy!" Stephen warned as he tried to restrain Marcus' involuntary movements by grabbing his right arm and pushing his chest to the bed.
"Hold him!" He instructed Ivanova, who pushed her palm to his forehead and held down his left arm. He cried out, as though he were being thrown around while paralysed, unable to even help himself. It was unbearable to watch, if Susan had not been ordered to hold him still she would have left the room. After a few moments, he stopped moving and lay still, limp and seeming for a moment unconscious again.
"Better?" Franklin asked as he cautiously took his hands away, knowing that he was still conscious- he hadn't given near enough Morphine to knock him out that quickly.
"Yeah," Marcus breathed out, exhausted already.
"Are you gonna try and scare the crap out of us again?" Stephen asked in jestive tones. With Marcus around he had never been able to stay serious for long. "I mean due to you we already missed the wedding." he added, provoking Marcus curiosity.
"Wedding-"Marcus considered, opening his eyes again. "Delenn and the Captain got married?"
Susan looked to Stephen, deciding she was now going to confuse the ever playful intellect.
"No, the President and the Delenn got married. You're addressing the captain."
Marcus eyes shifted from one side to another, analysing the two pieces of information he had been relayed. He put them together, and considered.
"Wait a minute. I think I've got a beat on it." He began, before confronting his assumption of the last few days events. "Sheridan's the president, and you're a Captain?" He paused again, trying to gauge if the last few days had been very eventful- or had he been down a very long time. "How long was I asleep?"
Stephen smirked, glad to see some signs of coherent thought and lucidity. "Quite a while."
"Then why am I so tired?" Marcus asked, his eyes lapsing back to closed.
"Nothing to worry about." Franklin added, patting his arm and beginning to walk away. "Just rest, but not for five days this time. And be careful with those sutures."
"Oh, sutures. How medieval." He remarked lethargically as Stephen moved out of earshot.
Susan lingered at his side, as if unsure if she should stay with him or leave him now. Or maybe she should ask the thirty-five-thousand credit question. Why?
He wasn't talking or making much movement, he seemed asleep again. She ran her thumb down his middle finger, to see if she got any response. "Marcus?"
"Yeah?" he breathed, sounding more asleep than conscious.
Ivanova reconsidered her query. Not now. Not with him like this. It wouldn't be fair. "Nothing. It can wait." She swallowed hard, hating that he done this to himself. She wasn't going to be driven to tears by this again. "But, if you ever do that again..."
Marcus cut her off, avoiding a reprimand for the moment. "I get the message."
She waited for a few moments, then leaned very close to his ear and spoke softly to him. "Thank you."
He answered by clenching his hand tightly around hers again.
It was the end of the earth year 2261, and it was the dawn of a new age for all of us. It was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The next twenty years would see great changes, great joy, and great sorrow; the telepath war and the Drak war. The new alliance would waver and crack, but in the end it would hold. Because what is built endures, and what is loved endures. And Babylon 5, Babylon 5 endures.