Wanderlust gets feedback at: wanderlustlover@satx.rr.com (Oct '02)
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Broken, But Still Good
Vingette One- Lyta Alexander first few minutes back, set before Phoenix Ascendant
I blame Dale. They we're talking B5 game, his and someone else's idea, and thats how these things always start. He made me think of something and it brought me back to thinking about endings of things that are never perfect, and never truly ending no matter what.
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There was an awkward newness to even taking the step off the ship. It made no sense and all the sense in the world to her mind. This was a place she'd been a life ago; a million and a half years ago; yesterday. This was what had once for months and years been called home. It wasn't perfect by any standards and it didn't ever treat her with much care but it was all the home she had known.~~~~~It had been broken, but was still good.
It had been all she knew to call home for too long.
It wasn't so much the stepping off the platform that caused the tremors in her stomach. She'd faced far worse inside this place and inside herself to fear such a small step. But it wasn't such a small step was it? Coming here, coming back after everything that had happened, everything that she'd been through.
So many years later, could she blend into everyone? The crowds mulling about? The tourists in the shops, markplaces, casino's? Could she just be another face in the huddle masses, searching, longingly, for some unnamed thing that was supposed to be found here, millions of miles for anyone's home?
So different from the first time she came here sticking out like a sore thumb. The uniform, the golden pin and the black gloves. No one saw a cent beyond that. No one really saw much further beyond that even after she removed all three of them from her. They only stayed even further away then.
She had gotten to know only a handful of the people who worked on the station truly and only at arms length, where they each felt comfortable, and further in the later years. They were all she'd known though. She hadn't known who or where and no one really thought about her until she was necessary.
It had been broken, but was still good.
It had been all she knew to call friends for too long.
All she had to hold against the onslaught of the Psi Corps and Bester. Another one of her deals with the devil that would hang on till the very end. They'd even been her basis for comparison before the Vorlons had vanished.
Not that it bothered them to be hero's of the small people, even their small people. It had only bothered them once she found her own two feet. Her found her own crusade, her own followers, and her own power; all beyond their control.
She'd left the shell of the whining, crying, helpless girl in her room when she finally realized what she had been truly made into. By the Vorlons, The Psi Corp, Babylon 5 and even, her beloved, Byron. They had all made her and shaped in some form and fashion, changing the direction she was headed with each twist and kink, each choice and decision.
And then, it had fallen to someone she had forgotten was a friend to tell her;
That she had been broken, but was still good.
It had been all she knew to be for too long.
And after days and weeks, months and years, she was here again. Standing in the doorway looking out at the bays where ships were parked, or empty spaces waited for ships. Spaces waiting to be filled and others waiting to be empty, she knew that feeling so well.
Stepping off, she headed forward down the straight and only slightly narrow corrador that lead from the Docking Bay to Cobra Bay, her paperwork in hand. Dressed casually, no uniform because she had no rhyme or reason of it, she felt relaxed when no one took any notice of her in the line.
They pressed and peered forward, bumping into her arm, or side, impatient with the wait. Thoughts passed through her, permeating the very air she breathed, an at once calm and chaotic wave of familiarity to it. She hadn't been near so many people in a long while, but it wasn't hard to block them out all together either.
They brought back memories of the spectacles she'd pulled before leaving. Dramatic and powerful, fueled by anger and outrage, but very astute at showing just a taste of how much of her full potential she thought she had understood.
The brink of this long ago home had the essence of a smell that could just bring you back to memories you'd forgotten. This rushed and ready world, fiery and filled with so much. Taking already for example the man in front of you arguing about the fact his identi-card should be showing up right. He's getting mad enough to yell just about now.
Glancing down at your own card for a few minutes she read the front and back of her own Identi-card not particullary feeling interest in the debate one person a head of her, nor impatient for the wait one person away from being taken care of. The station could handle anything that would happen.
"Lyta?"
She looked up, shocked to hear her name, and found a familiar face. Zack Allan, Cheif of Security, all grown up. Not that he hadn't been, but he looked it now. Around the corners of his eyes where it looked like he might not be sleeping well. At the edges of his mouth, where lines had been formed by overuse of hard expression. The rigid way he stood even with the flood of surprise that rolled off of him in every direction.
"We didn't know you were coming," he said holding a hand out for her card, uneasily. It seemed he felt at a loss for words himself. She was reassured that he hadn't lost all his child-like quality when the smile whipped out and he added, "If you had told us you were coming, we could have gathered a welcoming party."
"I wasn't sure I was," she interjected, with a slight nod. What a quick cover for him, as it had been years since they'd even spoken any sort of words to each other. "Until I finally got here."
"Then you're not here on business? Vacation? A little rest and relaxation?"
She shook her head, her hair swaying across her shoulders, as she glanced. "I'm not sure yet."
His expression seemed to vary, he looked like he was thinking and his mind plugged away dozens of scenarios while she ignored the whispers. The wheels and levels clicked and turned in his head. Michael should have been proud. His protege worked almost as well as he did.
"So," he said beckoning her out of the line of people, as he gave her back her identi-card, so others could still be checked by Security. "How've you been?"
How was she?
Such an odd question. It made for such odd comparisions. She had arrived originally P5 telepath, naive, selfless and wanting in the ways of the world and left angry, hurt and with the destructive ability of a nuclear weapon.
"Better," she said, her voice taking a hint of humor, giving the first resemblence of a smile. It tugged at the edges of her lips, causing her eyes to look lighter, and her face to look more relaxed.
"Look, maybe, if you're not busy later, we can catch up?" He asked, still looking down at her. Except with a more frank expression, even in that strangely older face. The residual surprise leaving him, even though he was still slightly confused and curious to why she was here. "Maybe get a pizza or something."
Now what was she? Her own person? A free floating entity in control of her own destiny? A powder keg waiting for the right moment to explode? Perhaps none of these, perhaps all of these, after all.
She had been and in many ways was; broken, but still good.
"That sounds nice."
On to A Few Dates and I Would've Married Her