Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
He was quickly cleared through the security of the facility. The president of the Interstellar Alliance had clearance anywhere. A security guard lead him through the long corridors. Each cell was a room with a windowless door. At every new corridor stood a security guard. The place was clean but extremely impersonal. It looked like a prison he thought.
He was lead out of the more used area of the facility. The cells they walked past were empty now, the area free of the howls of patients. He was being lead to the very back of the facility, into the new wing, where there was only one cell, just one patient in the wing, a lost soul in completely solitary confinement. There was a nurses station where the nurses assigned to the one cell were lounging around sipping cold drinks as the patient lay locked up alone. As they saw him, they pretended to be busy, but the act was a poor disguise for the real conditions here, he noted. At least the place was clean.
The guard led him to the door of the cell. They paused outside the cell while the guard unlocked the door and opened it allowing him to step inside. The door closed after him. The lights were dimmed in the small padded room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. When he did his eyes glanced over the room. An empty padded room. Dark. Depressing. No windows. A single figure in the far left corner. She was lying with her head on the floor, facing the door, facing him, but she didn't see him. It was as if she was looking right through him. She was dressed in a thin black garment, almost like the robes the monks wore. It was cut down to fit a slim woman, but was loose on her stick like form. Underneath it she wore a single slip which went to her ankles. Her feet were bare, and a pair of black leather pumps sat nearby, almost as an afterthought, without socks. Her beautiful cinnamon colored hair which had swung at her hips, shining like Hadassah's had been cut so it hung just below her chin. It was clean, but no longer shone. She was clean, her clothes were clean too, and appeared to be new, just of thin material, too thin to provide warmth.
Her skin was so pale it was nearly ashen. He could see a bruise on her cheek. There was no recognition in her eyes. That was to be expected the staff assured him. She didn't know what was going on, it was a mercy, they assured him. Indeed, she was drugged up to keep her that way. He knelt carefully next to her. She was aware of another person being in the room with her. She did not seem pleased with the attention. She seemed… afraid. The way she pulled back, hesitantly. She seemed to think he would be angered with her for drawing back, the way she forced her self not to move away, trembling. He sighed sadly, taking a hand and running it through her hair gently. She was sitting up in the corner now, and he reached in his pocket and pulling out a comb began to slowly comb her hair.
" How are you, Susan?" he asked her kindly.
She looked at him blankly.
" Susan, ….Susan." he asked, becoming more concerned.
" Susan?" she asked.
Oh God, he thought, " Yes, sweetheart," sweet heart, where had that come from he thought, " that is your name, Susan Ivanova."
" Oh," she said dismissively.
He thought over what he knew the last few years had been like for her, ten to be exact, since the war ended, since he had last seen her. She had been a Psi Corp prisoner for three years, he knew she had been horribly tortured there daily nearly, had never recovered physically. Every bone broken, and all she had were few rags to bind the broken bones, her back, her whole body ripped to shreds by whips and some of the most horrible rape and such which had given her diseases some of which were not curable and from which she suffered quietly. When she had been pulled out after her three years there, barely alive, she had after her relative recovery taken the captaincy of a ship where she had been. The years of emotional suffering, physical and mental scars from the prison, the burden of command of a crew who hated her, most of them were pro Clarke, had drove her to insanity they said. She had been brought here after a breakdown, now drugged to keep her alive, they thought she was suicidal, this was her existence. A padded cell, with no memory, no sense of the world around her.
John kept combing though her hair. He remembered that his mother would brush her hair a hundred strokes every night and did the same with Susan. She sat passively; he had helped her up. He had had to lift her. She was entirely unable to move from, the pain from the worst of her injuries hindering her. It was sobering to see a woman who was once in such complete control of her self, whose very body was a war machine, who moved on elegant limbs with powerful muscles tearing apart bars with her bare hands unable to sit up by herself. He had slipped his hands underneath her arms and lifted her up. When he finished combing her hair, he tucked a strand behind her ear and smiled warmly at her. She did not return the smile. They sat their quietly, he did not know what to say to her. He had not seen her for ten years. When she had been released from Psi Corp prison he had not gone to see her. She had been battered and very nearly dead. For three years she was tortured almost daily, was never given anything for the pain, never had a doctor bind her broken limbs, never had more than one glass of water a day, if she had the strength to lift it from where they put it down, never had more than enough food to keep her alive. When they released her, she had been a mess. He had not gone to see her, and he was ashamed because he did not want his marital bliss and newfound fatherhood disturbed by her problems. In the seven subsequent years, when her emotional state had worsened, and her body refused to heal completely, he still hadn't seen her. Even when she had her breakdown and had been institutionalized he hadn't come. It was only when Stephen forced him to that he did. She had already been in the facility for six months. Suddenly she broke the silence, " Who are you?"
His heart clenched, and he hesitated a second, "Oh, Susan…,"
" Who is Susan?" Surely she couldn't have forgotten so soon. " You are Susan, I am John Sheridan, your friend, we served together at the Io and Babylon . Don't you remember?"
She raised her head slightly, then let it drop and shook her head sadly. " Oh," he said," It's okay sweetheart." This time the word didn't seem so odd. " It is okay."
She looked up weakly. They sat quietly together. John felt the clock ticking away. For seven years he had not wanted to see her. Now that he was there, he couldn't bear to leave her. He thought if they could just sit there like that forever, everything would be alright. Surely Susan would recover, she had to. Then, she would go to Mimbar with him and take up the vice- presidency and Entil'zah. Delenn had stepped down years ago. She really wasn't a warrior. There was a Mimbari who had been holding the position, temporarily. He would step aside and everything would be perfect.
He heard footsteps outside the door, they were coming to take him. He would be on Earth for the next two weeks, he would come then for a weekly visit, he told her as the door opened and the guard asked him to step out now. He knelt right in front of her, telling her he would be back, he gently hugged her unresponsive figure and lay the comb in her lap. He took her hands and said good bye, looking into her eyes. They were empty, he thought as he stopped at the door, searching for something to say, but coming up empty. As he left he saw she wasn't even looking at him. He felt empty inside.
The next week he was to speak with Earth Force and Earth Gov. officials. He also hoped to spend some time at home with his aging parents and his sister Liz, who also lived at home after her divorce. The whole time, he couldn't concentrate. As he spoke with now General Jack Mayard, it reminded him of the last time he had seen him on Babylon and how Susan had been injured and all he could think about was her. After all this it wasn't right that she was alone. He imagined her being rudely awoken in the cell, being taken to shower and then dressed in the long black slip and long robe, her shoes sitting in the corner unused. He imagined someone force feeding her, unkindly, impatient about the time it took as she slowly attempted to swallow the meals she detested and then she was left alone in the cell day and night. Alone with her thoughts, with the darkness. It wasn't right. He wondered if she still had the comb he had given her. He thought it odd that he had never given her something like that before, when her hair went down to her hips. He had carved it himself out of mahogany wood. It smelled sweet. Did someone use it to comb her hair out of her face? Did they just sit with her a minute and talk to her? Did any of them care?
As he asked himself this, he knew the answer was no. She was all alone. Yossel, her godfather had died too, recently, just before she had been institutionalized. He had been the last person she had left. Somewhere during the week he decided he would take Susan home with him. The more he thought about it the better an idea it seemed. He knew Earth Gov wouldn't be interested in giving her up easily. So he would have to take her. Once he had her on Mimbar there would be nothing Earth Gov. could do and everything would be alright.
A week passed and John entered the same building again. He held a handkerchief, decorated with elegant embroidery and lace, a ribbon and a flower in his hand. He passed through the same halls, into the same wing. He was lead to the same door by the same guard. He was let to enter. As the door began to close John put a small piece of wood he had brought to keep the door from shutting. Susan was lying there again, shoes off to the corner, unaware of what was going on. He knelt in front of her. " Susan?"
As she began to ask who Susan was he put his hand gently over her mouth to hush her. He lifted her up and began to brush her hair as he had the last time. She had the comb in her hand, had been clinging to it, even though her hair was not combed. Perhaps she couldn't even remember who had given it to her, but it had been a sweet gesture so she kept it, clinging to the only gift someone had given her in years. He took half of her hair and braided it, tying it at the end with the black ribbon. He smoothed the loose half of her with the comb and put her shoes on , " shush, sweetheart, we are going for a walk." He helped her stand and handed her the flower and the perfumed handkerchief. He took her hand and she stumbled behind him. He wrapped his arm around her to keep her from falling.
They walked out of the cell. The staff was all in the nurses station, eating laughing. Regulations said that someone should be watching at all times, but he knew no one could see them. He lead her to the emergency exit near her cell and let her lean against the wall. Already her breath had caught from the effort. He quickly overrode the lock so that the alarm wouldn't go off and opened the door. He wrapped his arm around her again and saw she was too tired to keep going. He lifted her up and carried her to the shuttle that was hidden in the bushes. He took her inside and lay her on one of the two makeshift beds. He took the pilots seat and set a coarse to mimbar.
The way there she lay on the cot quietly, barely responding to him, though he spoke often to her. No matter John thought, she would be fine as soon as they were on Mimbar. Three days later they arrived. By that point the White Stars had reached them, indeed they had joined them as soon as they jumped, but John thought it best for them to stay on the shuttle so the ships served as guard. He landed in his own yard and lead her inside. A room was already ready for her, in pale blue, large with elegant earth furniture, as he had ordered. Beautiful Mimbari robes had been prepared for her. A worker caste woman had been hired to watch her when he could not and she was already waiting.
Susan slept the rest of the day as John held Delenn and David at bay, both of whom wanted to see her, David having never met her before. Stephen examined her and said she could stay at his house and not medlab if she was properly cared for.
The next day when John went to see her in the morning, she was already up and had with the nurse's help bathed and dressed in a beautiful peach colored robe. Her hair neatly made and she sat in the rocking chair near the window. Her bed had already been made and the nurse sat in front of her, feeding her patiently. She moved aside when she saw John, allowing him to kneel in front of his old friend. He took her hands and asked her how she was doing, if she had everything she needed, if the nurse was kind with her. She looked up vaguely and met his eyes.
Hers were empty.
For the first time John wondered if this were truly hopeless.
Author's note: Please read and review. I was thinking of writing a sequel, set ten years after this, when John's twenty years are over. Let me know what you think.