Title: Leaving
Prompt: 'Beginnings'
On a ship heading for Earth, Susan watches Babylon 5 slip away behind her, surrounded by stars and nothingness.
For a second, she is seized by the desire to go back, to return and tell them all she hadn't mean it; that she was ready, now, to take command of the station. To walk those halls again and fall into bed every night, exhausted and alone; to see the same familiar faces during those same busy days. To go through stacks of paperwork and alien dilemmas and pots of illegal coffee. To try again.
But now, as she watches the last four years fading away behind her, she knows there is a time for everything. A time for endings. She can't go back, now, even if she truly knows she wants to; it would never be the same. It never will be.
Too many hearts have been broken, too many wars fought, too many losses taken. She knows the Station will continue to be the beacon of hope it had always been, for aliens and humans, for unity. And yet... they had set out, in their final, great battle, to save the Station, and the Station had been saved; but not for her.
Yes, this was necessary. She looks through the observation windows one last time, and then they're in hyperspace; it winks out of view. She turns, resolutely, to sit down.
She feels alone, but her back is straight. She can manage, she knows; she can rebuild her life. But she will never love again.
Somehow, the thought does not fill her with horrible feeling; it's simply a straight-forward acknowledgment of the truth. She is a whole person because another is broken. She walks, she smiles- on the outside at least- because another lies in an eternal, grave sleep. She is able to accept this, accept herself and all her ugly faults, because he did; and his love for her manages to bring her forgiveness.
000
The ship lands. She stands, swings her bag over her shoulder and a brown parcel under her elbow, and steps off into the port. The busy sounds of people thrum all around her; it feels alive, and for a second, a very small part of her heart soars free. It says, I am Home. Home. Earth. She walks into the crowd.
Spotting a sign that points her in the direction of the bathrooms, she struggles against the bodies and turns right. On the other side of the flimsy bathroom door, a line of women wait for an opening. She steps in line. She waits.
When it is her turn, Susan closes herself in her stall and opens the brown package. Inside, folded neatly, rests her new uniform- her new life. She pulls off her pants and replaces them with the formal, carefully pressed ones; she buttons the new shirt over her white blouse. Her long fingers guide the Captain's beret carefully over her tightly-wound bun of brown hair.
And lastly, her heart pounding queerly, she fishes a bright pin out of her old pants, and sighs. It means too many things.
Her faults. His life. Her fall. His love. Her fury. His forgiveness. She pins it to the inside of her undershirt; the smooth green stone presses against her skin. She steps outside.
A new queue of women has formed in the bathroom; they stare, to see her go past. She walks swiftly away from them, back straight, long strides, solemn face. As the women watch her pass by, each one wonders if they have that spark of strength inside.
As for Susan: her mind is already on Military matters. What will be the number of her crew? How many command staff, technicians, medical staff? Will she have a real shower, for once?
Looking over the tops of the sea of heads in front of her, she searches for the shuttle that will take her to her reporting center. She spots it, sighs, and moves forward.
A time and a place for everything. A time, and a place, for new beginnings.
000
A/N:
1.) The line 'They had set out, in this final, great battle, to save the Station, and the Station had been saved; but not for her' is a nod to Frodo, in case anyone is curious. The concept was poetically fitting. :)
2.) Thanks y'all. Hope you enjoyed. :)