Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and all these characters belong to JMS, who usually knows better than I what to do with them. JMS is God. God doesn't exist. Therefore, no one can sue me for copyright infringement. But just in case, I'm not making any profit from this. Please don't smite me.
WARNING: This story has vivid descriptions of things not allowed on primetime cable, so if that offends you, turn back now.
Sheridan leaned across his desk, feeling centuries old. There were Shadows on the station. His station. And Delenn and Kosh had told him about it only when his actions threatened their carefully laid plans. He was willing to bet they'd only said enough to keep him out of their hair, not the whole truth. Damn it, he liked them! He thought of Kosh as a teacher, on good days even a friend. And Delenn...
"Captain?" Ivanova called him back from his thoughts as she entered the room and dropped some flimsies on his desk. "You okay?"
No. "Yeah, I'm fine ... No, actually I'm not fine. Do you ever get sick of Minbari?"
She blinked and stared at him for a second. "Captain?"
"They only tell you as much of the truth as you need to know, and they twist it around so you'll do what they want. They have rituals for their rituals, to the point where you can't even enjoy something anymore, can't think of it in your own terms, and they can be just as brutal and stubborn as humans, no matter what they say about us being barbaric. Well, I'm sick of it." He folded his arms across his chest, as if that was that.
Ivanova sat across from him, raising one hand but dropping it before she could press it to her temples. Despite the fact that she was the latent telepath, not he, he could almost hear her thoughts: I don't have enough to do, now I have to baby-sit my superior officer when he throws tantrums? "I take it you and Ambassador Delenn have had ... difficulties?"
"Look, I'm sorry, Ivanova. I shouldn't lay this on you. I'm just a little tired. I'll take a few hours to sleep, and I'll be back to my usual over-cheery self." He forced a warm grin.
She shook her head. "I'm not buying it, Captain. Look, you and I are supposed to support each other. That's in the job description, if nothing else. And you listened when I told you..." she swallowed, "...about my mother and me. So if you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"
Sheridan paused. "There's a lot I can't tell you. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."
Ivanova smiled, a hint of bitterness, at some private joke. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Sheridan wondered at that, and whether it referred to him or to people in general. In the end, he gave up. Ivanova was as quiet as a Vorlon when it came to questions about her personal life. After a while, Sheridan had realized it had nothing to do with hiding from people, it was a defense against feeling the pain that came with each retelling, and a way to keep people she might lose at a distance so she wouldn't care as much when they were gone.
"Sometimes I think I'm in love with her. The rest of the time I know I'm in love with her. And then she pulls something like this..." He clenched his fist around Ivanova's hand, she simply gripped back with equal, comforting pressure. "You know, her people nearly exterminated us! They killed my friends, your brother, and every time I turn around, one of them calls me Starkiller!" What am I supposed to do, call Neroon 'Iokiller'? I don't even know what I'd call Delenn, she never says what she did during the war. Which probably means she did a lot that she's too ashamed to talk about. But that doesn't stop her or any of them from passing judgment on me. I'm Starkiller, I'm a barbaric human, I'm a tool. God forbid they should think I'm their equal."
Ivanova nodded. "I know exactly what you mean." She paused a moment, then laid her hand over his to comfort him. Her fingers rubbed his hand with a movement as regular as a metronome, as though she'd forgotten long ago how to touch anyone, physically or emotionally, even on so basic a level as this.
Sheridan looked up at her. "Have you ever cared about someone as closemouthed, manipulative and stubborn as Delenn?"
"My family. But in the way you mean ... once." She winced. "What is it about you? You make me tell you things I'd never tell another living soul." She looked away, her fingers tracing his absently now, exploring knuckles and calloused palm. "He had his problems, I had mine. We never really trusted each other. We both had our careers. We never ended it. We just stopped having time, stopped finding time. We went back to being friends, and we never mentioned it again."
Sheridan's fingers began tracing her hand, tickling her slightly. "Who was it?"
She shook her head and grinned. "Garibaldi, of all people. Can you think of a worse match?"
"Londo and G'kar," Sheridan replied without missing a beat. "Thanks."
"You too."
He suddenly realized what he was feeling and pulled away from her. If she wanted to play around with Garibaldi, that was one thing. They were in different branches of the chain of command. But Ivanova was his direct subordinate and his friend. And he had Delenn to consider.
"I have to get back on duty," Ivanova said, covering for her hurt feelings, his withdrawal.
He stepped around the desk, blocking her exit, and murmured, "Secure cam off." Then he pulled her to him and kissed her, gripping her shoulders as he poured two years of grief, need and frustration into that kiss, feeling them replaced by a sweet hunger he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. She froze at first, then responded with quiet but growing passion.
Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss, having made his point. "Just because I can't," he managed in a voice hoarse with passion, "doesn't mean I don't want to."
Something died in her eyes, but she nodded and walked out, leaving Sheridan to wonder how crossed their signals were.
"Secure cam on," he called out after she left. He didn't want Garibaldi or anyone else prying into his affairs, which would happen if he kept the camera off for too long. Something was definitely wrong with Ivanova. But what? She'd wanted it as much as he did. He'd felt it. Surely she understood he couldn't take advantage of his position like that? He'd be brought up on charges!
Sheridan hadn't realized how skilled Ivanova was at avoiding people. The next few days were quite an education. Even when he managed to track her down and order her into his office for station business, it was like talking to a robot. Stiff, automatic responses and absolutely no life in her voice or posture.
Garibaldi was insufferable. He didn't say a word about the gap in the secure cam tape. He just smirked and went about his job with even more insufferable cheer than usual.
But worst of all were Sheridan's conversations with Delenn. Between his anger over her manipulation and his guilt over his own betrayal, he had effectively killed their budding romance. Delenn asked him to tell her what was upsetting him, but what was he supposed to say? I kissed someone else, someone whom you call a friend and ally, and every time I think about her, I need to shift my legs? I finally found someone I think I can make a life with, and it isn't you? Minbari were supposed to be emotionally reserved, but Sheridan could tell he'd hurt her deeply, and the thought of hurting her still caused him pain. He did love her, but he was beginning to realize he loved Ivanova too. And now he might very well have lost them both. Delenn didn't avoid him as Ivanova did, but only the growing threat of the Shadow war and trouble on Earth kept Sheridan and Delenn speaking to one another.
Finally Sheridan couldn't stand it any more. He had to do something, had to know where he stood with Ivanova so he could either put his life back together or rip it down and build something new. But how, when she refused to talk to him? He decided to go talk to the one person on the station who knew Ivanova better than he did: Garibaldi. He found the chief in his office, watching the monitors. Garibaldi observed him with an amused grin, leaning back and putting his boots up on the console. "I was wondering when you'd come by, Cap'n."
"You were watching the other day."
"And listening. I know she told you about us. I also know that gap in the tape wasn't long enough for anything good to have gone on, which means things didn't go to well in there." He grinned a little at the thought.
Sheridan scowled. "Michael, can you please just tell me what I did to screw up in there? She's my first officer, I can't have tension in the ranks!"
Garibaldi shrugged. "No can do, Cap'n. All I've got are speculations, and I'm not about to ruin Ivanova's career or credibility with them. I can go talk to her, if you want. On the QT."
Sheridan shook his head. "No, I got into this mess, I'll get out of it. If you're jealous..."
Garibaldi shrugged. "It's old news, Cap'n. It's not like she and I were in love or anything, we were just buddies who decided to bunk together between flights." He put his feet down and looked up at Sheridan. "If you want some friendly advice?"
"Anything."
"You just opened a pretty big can of worms. Everyone she's ever cared about either abandoned her or died on her. So you're going to have to decide: either you follow this through all the way, and treat her right, or you live with the fact that you screwed up and you never mention this again. She'll never trust you as much, she's one to nurse a grudge. But aside from that, things'll be normal. Either way, it's your move. She's not going to do anything if she thinks she'll be hurt or rejected."
Sheridan winced. "You know her pretty well."
Garibaldi shrugged again. "She and I've nursed each other through this sort of thing before. I know how she thinks. And I'm not saying what, but I know she's been through some stuff with someone lately that she can't even talk to me about."
"Pretty lousy timing, then." Sheridan winced, wondering who Ivanova had been after. One of the pilots? Not likely. It didn't matter, anyway. "I'll figure out something."
He left the office. He thought briefly about going to the garden, but he was likely to see either Kosh or Delenn there. He wasn't in the mood to speak to either of them. Instead, he took a Starfury out, heading through the jumpgate. Nothing like a little flight time to work through ground problems.
He was in love with Delenn. Or was he? How could he love someone he didn't know? Someone he couldn't trust? Delenn was nothing but smoke and mirrors, no matter how alluring.
Susan, on the other hand, he could trust implicitly. She was his right hand, his sister-in-arms. Which was why he couldn't compromise that relationship by complicating it, opening them both up to accusations of 'behavior unbecoming'. He couldn't tear the station apart, couldn't hurt Delenn, the men and women who looked up to them. A starship captain like himself knew better than anyone the dangers that occurred when the chain of command was broken, when subordinates and superiors couldn't trust themselves or each other to act consistently and honorably. Especially in these desperate times, he had to give people something to look up to, something they could trust without question.
He couldn't ask her to resign any more than he could do it himself. He couldn't ask her to sneak around, turn it into something tawdry. But was it better to leave things like this? To open her up and leave the questions unresolved, when they had to see each other, work together, every day? He shook his head. He would get no answers in hyperspace. He headed back to the barn.
He waited for her in her quarters. "You should change your lock code more often," he told her, echoing the words she'd spoken to him a few weeks ago.
"I do," she replied. "You used the override." She sat down beside him.
"I've been thinking." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Susan. It's not fair, it's not right, but there it is. But it's up to you. We couldn't tell anyone outside our circle of friends. But there's a lot we don't tell anyone outside the inner circle anyway. It's not like it's different from any other part of our lives. The question is, do you want me?"
She looked away. "What about Delenn?"
"Do you really think I'm the sort of person who'd go after her in public and keep you on the side?"
She shook her head. "You don't mind that I'm a telepath?"
"That's between you and your mother. You said you can't scan anyone else. I don't see how it changes things between us." He leaned in, and kissed her, feeling her lips respond eagerly. Her fingers slid through his hair, pulling him closer, and he felt a sudden sensation of warm desire flood his mind. //Does this change things?//
His answer was as wordless as hers as he deepened the kiss, then moved to close his teeth at her throat. He heard her gasp of pleasure, felt the burst of it in his mind. It made him harden, his shaft pressing eagerly against her through their uniforms. Her jacket opened easily, and he made off with her shirt almost as quickly. He paused a moment, saw her dark hair spill over golden skin, her proud breasts, her writhing belly. Then he kissed a line of fire down her throat, feeling her desire rise as his mouth teased one dark nipple, his fingers another.
He closed his eyes, accustoming himself to the strange echo of pleasure in his mind. He'd never felt anything like it before. He could feel everything he did to her as though she had done it to him. When her deft fingers slid into his pants and grasped him, he groaned with aching need and saw his response mirrored in her. As they struggled out of their clothes, feeling the sweetness of skin on skin, the mirror effect grew stronger, magnifying even the slightest pleasure a thousand times. When her mouth found the tip of his penis, they both groaned, and her sound caused vibrations in her throat that sent him even further into oblivion. A few seconds, and they fell over the brink together.
When he came back to himself, he realized her body had not felt the same ecstasy as her mind, and she was in desperate need of release. Her desire reignited his own, and he hardened in her mouth. He pulled her up to sit on his belly, lacing his fingers through her own. "I love you, Susan." He slid his lips over her nipple again, biting and sucking as he felt her body receive him.
"I love you, John," she whispered, rocking back and forth on his shaft. Her pleasure was rising, the doors in her soul swung open wide to reveal a hall of mirrors, reflecting and absorbing him. They were drowning in each other, their souls reflecting. Her muscles squeezed, then clenched tightly as she cried his name in a small voice. He exploded deep within her, screaming into her mouth. And then all faded to silence.
He awoke, hours later, to the sound of his link chiming insistently. His arms were full of warm, soft flesh. "Another day, another crisis," he muttered. "Come on, Commander, we're needed."
She woke and yawned, then smiled at him. "Be right with you, Captain."
End.