From sahari@pacbell.net Tue Jan 28 22:41:25 1997 Date: Fri, 17 Jan 1997 20:29:30 -0800 From: Laura Luchau To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: Re: Fanfic "Farewell to Unicorns" Nervously presenting my first fanfic ever, a Marcus and Ivanova "script." Sahari@pacbell.net [ Part 2: "Attached Text" ] Babylon 5 Fanfic: Farewell to Unicorns by: Laura Luchau (sahari@aol.com / sahari@pacbell.net) Setting: A lower level bar. (Commander Susan Ivanova sits at a table in the corner, alone. Ranger Marcus Cole enters; they make eye contact. Marcus approaches her table.) Marcus: Commander. Susan: Marcus - what are you doing here? Marcus: Walking about; getting information - that sort of thing. And you? Susan: (lifting glass) Drinking vodka. Marcus: I can see that. Susan: Ever since the captain's return, I've found drinking alone to be, . . . inadvisable. Grandfather used to say that drinking vodka is supposed to keep you from thinking, but for me, drinking causes me to think TOO MUCH. But where are my manners? Pull up a chair and have a glass. Marcus: (pulling up said chair) No thank you. I rarely drink. Susan: Why am I not surprised? Don't tell me: you don't do stims, either? Marcus: Commander, you know me too well. Susan: Hardly. You know, unicorns are not so unlikely when you're around. Marcus: . . . Susan: Besides your questionable sense of humor, do you have ANY vices? Marcus: (pauses to think) Not that I know of. Some might say my sense of humor is enough of a vice. (Marcus seems to recognize a pretty young woman, very scantily dressed, who is standing off on the other side of the bar area and trying to make eye contact with him. He stands.) Marcus: Excuse me. (Susan, obviously amazed, watches as he walks over to the woman. The woman throws her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. He nods, pulls out a paper from his pocket, writes something, and gives the paper to her. She kisses him, and walks off. Marcus returns to the table.) Susan: You're going to tell me that you didn't just hand over your Babcom access number to a prostitute, aren't you? Marcus: Very perceptive. Actually (leans forward, whispering) she's not a prostitute; she's a ranger disguised as a prostitute, so I don't blame you for making the assumption. Susan: And you handed her . . . ? Marcus: Her contact for passing information. Susan: Isn't all this just a little excessive? Marcus: Not at all. It's a very enlightening experience, going about in "plain clothes." You should try it some time. Susan: (looking pointedly where the "prostitute" was standing) You're not suggesting, like that . . . ? Marcus: (embarrassed) Oh, no. Susan: Are you blushing? Marcus: (hastily; obviously very embarrassed) Excuse me, commander. I must be on my way. (He leaves.) Susan: (amazed) He was blushing. Incredible. Another day. (A Babcom transmission from Marcus to Susan.) Marcus: Ah, commander. Good afternoon. Susan: Marcus. What's up? Marcus: I was hoping, well, you'd be able to do some "plain clothes" with me. You see, my usual partner isn't feeling very well today. Susan: Oh, that girl from the other day? Marcus: Ah, yes. I suppose you're too busy, though . . . Susan: If you thought I would say no, why'd you ask? Marcus: Masochism? (wryly) Sorry. Susan: Actually, I could use a good walk. Marcus: (brightening) Terrific. Meet me at the zocalo, west end. Say, an hour? Dress casual. Susan: Understood. The zocalo. Milling crowds, sellers, buyers, et al. (Susan, with her hair arranged differently, and wearing bright "civvies," walks up to a waiting Marcus who is obviously on the look-out for her, but does not see her until she nearly on top of him.) Marcus: Hullo! Susan: Didn't you recognize me? Marcus: You look . . . different . . . when you're not in uniform, Command- er . . . . Susan: (amused) Susan is fine. Marcus: . . . Susan. Susan: That wasn't so hard, was it? Marcus: Well, . . . Susan: You shy types! So where to now? Marcus: Let's wander, shall we? Susan: All right, but I have to tell you, I hate shopping. Marcus: (laughs) My luck. (as they walk off) Level 14, then? Susan: Very funny. Later in the same day. (Zocalo: a different area.) Susan: This is certainly educational. Did you know that John and Delenn are the love-match of the century down here? Marcus: Ah, yes, actually. They were laying bets in the bars not very long ago whether the captain was going to propose or not, and if so, when. Susan: They're selling shirts with their pictures on them! Marcus: Yes; I've seen 10 different designs in the last 7 days. (A pause in conversation.) Marcus: (hesitantly) Actually . . . Susan, I've meant to ask you . . . for advice. Susan: (joking) Romantic advice? Marcus: Ah, yes, actually. Susan: (surprised) I'm hardly an expert! Marcus: Let's face it; between the two of us, romantic advice from the female point of view is certainly more your area. Susan: Let's sit down. (They come upon a caf^Â-like area, and sit. A server appears to take their order.) Susan: Coffee. Black. Marcus: Tea. Darjeeling, if you have it. (as the server walks away) Did he just give me a dirty look? Susan: I didn't know they even serve tea around here. It's hard enough to get coffee. Marcus: Ah. So, shall I begin? Susan: (wryly) I can hardly stop you. Marcus: You see, this woman I've told you about . . . Susan: (brightening with interest) Oh, yes. The love of your life. You never did tell me her name. Marcus: Nor will I. This woman, well, she's very strong-willed, very independent - which I like, mind you. Susan: (knowingly) Beautiful? Marcus: Oh (smiling), yes. Susan: (dryly) Of course. Marcus: . . . but this means that she doesn't express herself very well to me, so it is difficult to know what she wants from me. For instance, romantic gestures seems to threaten her rather than open her up. Susan: (look of realization) Threaten? Marcus: Well, you know "what do you want from me?" rather than "my hero!" Susan: Oh. Marcus: So, what I mean to ask you is - Susan: How do you tell her you're in love with her? Marcus (surprised) Yes. Yes, exactly. Susan: You don't ask the easy questions, do you? Marcus: Well, maybe my second and last question will be easier. Susan: Oh? Marcus: What is a woman's ideal? Her ideal man? Susan: Marcus, I can't speak for all women! Marcus: Answer for yourself, then. Susan: That's not fair. Marcus: (smiling) Shall I tell you my ideal, and then you tell me yours? Susan: (reluctantly) I suppose. Marcus: "My Ideal Woman" by Marcus Cole. (Susan laughs.) Marcus: My ideal woman is, first of all, strong and intelligent . . . (Susan lifts a brow at that.) Marcus: (continuing) She can stand on her own, if she wishes to, but she is also capable of loving and committing to others. She is forthright, with a strong sense of duty. And of course (wryly), if she is my ideal, she is able to love me, but perhaps doesn't know how to express it. Susan: (cynically) You forgot "beautiful." Marcus: Ah, no. That's just a bonus. Your turn. (The server arrives with their drinks.) Susan: Ah, "My Ideal Man" by Susan Ivanova. (Marcus applauds.) Susan: Ah hem. My ideal man is . . . strong, but . . . gentlemanly. He's self-reliant but knows when to rely on others. Not too brash or crude, self-contained, maybe quiet. More a man of action than words. (There is a pause while Marcus appears to consider this.) Marcus: You know, you ARE describing a man on this station. Susan: No I'm not. Marcus: But you are. That's Captain Sheriden. Susan: (obviously shocked) You think so? Marcus: But that's understandable. Everyone admires the captain. Susan: (hesitantly) Yes. Marcus: They make quite a romance, John and Delenn. Susan: (recovering her balance) Apparently everyone thinks so. (The watch a couple of shoppers pass, both wearing John & Delenn T-shirts.) Marcus: He doesn't deserve her. Susan: On the contrary, she doesn't deserve HIM. (Both laugh, then stop suddenly, seeming to realize that they're having a good time.) Marcus: Say, if a man wanted to express his . . . er . . . affection for you, what would you consider to be the best way? Susan: You want an honest answer? Marcus: Of course. Always. Susan: You know, I would say . . . honesty is best. Marcus (eyes widening apprehensively) So he comes up to you and says, "I love you!" Susan: Hm. (reconsiders) Yeah, maybe that's TOO direct. Marcus: (breathing a sigh of relief) I'll say. Susan: (thinking hard on the subject) Friends are pretty good for this, though; a friend can always clue the person in on what's going on. Marcus: Like "My friend is in love with you." ? Susan: At least the person becomes aware of the feelings of the other. Marcus: (exaggerated disappointment) No gifts? Susan: Well, that's hard to say. If she feels threatened by romantic gestures . . . Marcus: Non-romantic gifts? Susan: What? A tool set? Marcus: (laughing) A potted plant! Susan: Stationary! Marcus: A basket of fruit? (They laugh, then once again stop. There is a space of silence.) Susan: But you should let her know, Marcus. Marcus: (not looking at her directly) I know. It's just . . . Susan: You're too shy. That's okay. Actually, that's kind of nice. I can't stand . . . (realizes what she's about to say, and stops) Marcus: Yes? Susan: (shakes her head) Nothing. Marcus: Now wait a minute; I bare my soul, and you say "nothing"? Susan: Oh well. I just have had it with men in general (at Marcus's surprised expression, she adds) I mean, okay, not MEN themselves, just the way they . . . Marcus: Express themselves? Susan: Yes. Marcus: (smiles softly) "Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, in least speak most." Susan: Hm? Marcus: There's an old saying: "Sometimes less is more." I think Shakespeare said it first. So what I am trying to say is, I understand. Susan: Maybe you do. Anyway (softly), I hardly have to worry these days. Marcus: Oh? You'd be surprised. Susan: What? Marcus: Oh, if the captain and Delenn - during all of this crisis - why not any of us mortals? Susan: Rare optimism. I like that. (A travelling seller stops by their table, displaying colorful scarves.) Seller: (to Marcus) Buy a pretty scarf for your lovely lady, sir? (Susan puts a hand to her eyes and sinks down in her chair.) Marcus: Now who's blushing? Later. Susan's quarters. (The door chime rings.) Susan: Who? Delenn: (outside) Delenn. Susan: Come. Delenn: Good evening, Commander. Susan: Ah . . . come on in, Delenn. I didn't expect - did we have a meeting? Delenn: Oh, no. This is . . . how do you say it? . . . a personal call. Susan: Oh? Please have a seat. Can I . . . get you something? Delenn: I'm fine. Susan: So, what can I do for you? Delenn: Actually, Susan, it's what I can do for YOU. It's about Marcus. Susan: Marcus? What has that to do with --? Delenn: Marcus has been showing a preferences for someone lately. Susan: Oh, yeah. I know. Delenn: (surprised) You do? Susan: Sure. He's told me about it. Delenn: (dumbfounded) He has? Susan: Yeah, but he's having problems telling her about his feelings. Delenn: (thinking hard) Oh. Susan: Do you know her name? He won't tell me. Delenn: Oh dear. Susan: What? Delenn: Susan, I think he is in love with YOU. (Susan opens her mouth, stupefied. Then closes her mouth. Then opens it and closes it again.) Susan: (surprised) . . . that's not possible. Me? (laughs) Delenn: I am certain of it. There's no one else he's shown any interest in. In fact, he seems to make any excuse to be near YOU. Susan: No, no, he's in love with someone else. Delenn: But who? Susan: . . . I don't know. Delenn: Are you SURE it's someone else, Susan? Susan: (confused) I . . . thought so. He said . . . oh my God. He said she was beautiful and intelligent. I mean, a while ago, I thought, . . . but not lately! He couldn't have been talking about me! Delenn: (gently) I think maybe he was. (There is a silence.) Susan: (thinking) Why are you telling me this, Delenn? Delenn: Marcus is . . . he's not doing well, Susan. He's distracted. His work is suffering. And . . . Susan: Yes? Delenn: The only time he comes alive and seems able to focus is when he's with you. Surely you've noticed. Susan: I still can't believe . . . Delenn: I know. He doesn't do well, being forthright about how he feels. He can only act on it - I've despaired about Marcus. He feels deeply yet he does not know how to . . . release these feelings. Susan: Delenn - I don't know. I just . . . don't know. Delenn: But Susan, at least you are aware. Susan: (at the word "aware," sits up a little straighter, making a connection) Did he ask you to talk to me? Delenn: No. I think he's tried to broach the subject with me a few times; he would start, and then . . . Susan: Yes, I know. Delenn: For Marcus' sake, Susan, if you don't feel anything for him, don't let him go on like this. I believe it is not healthy for him. Not healthy at all. Susan: . . . Later. Marcus Cole's quarters. (Marcus is playing his messages for the day.) Babcom computer voice: Message from: Susan Ivanova. Marcus: Relay message. Susan's image and voice: Marcus - sorry I didn't catch you in "real time." I wanted to discuss a mission that Delenn is planning, using the White Star, and of course, you and me. There's dinner in it for you in my quarters if you can make it. Let me know. Marcus: Reply to message from Susan Ivanova. Babcom computer: Link established. Susan: Yes? Marcus: Commander. Susan: Marcus. Glad you got the message. Marcus: Did I understand the message correctly? You're going to cook? Susan: You heard it right. Marcus: Tonight okay? Susan: Mm. Let me check. Yes. Tonight's fine. Say ten-hundred. Marcus: All right. See you then. (after the link is broken) I'm looking forward to this. Later, that night. Susan's quarters. (Susan and Marcus sit, at ease, at the remains of dinner, obviously well-relished by both.) Marcus: If I had known you cooked this well, I would have begged for a meal long before this. Susan: (pleased) I'm a two-recipe type of girl, Marcus. Marcus: Better than me. I'm a no-recipe man myself. Susan: (laughs and begins to pour them vodka) Marcus: Sorry, I don't - Susan: My grandfather used to say, "Never trust someone who never drinks. They have something to hide." (when he appears to not relent) Just half a glass. (when he seems to soften just a little) Please. Marcus: (reluctantly) Half a glass. Susan: Delenn seems to throw us together on these missions a lot, doesn't she? (Marcus coughs on his drink.) Susan: Hey, slow down. It's meant to be sipped. Marcus: Well, we can't risk the captain or Delenn herself. That leaves you for command and me for translation. Susan: You know, at the beginning, I thought Delenn might be trying to play match-maker. (Marcus nearly spits out his drink.) Susan: Hey, are you all right? It's expensive to get real vodka out here, you know. Marcus: Sorry. Swallowed too fast. Susan: (with a knowing expression) Here. (refills glass) You don't agree? Marcus: Delenn doesn't have time for "match-making." Why bother? (he swallows half the glass.) Susan: Maybe she thinks we're suited. Marcus: (swallowing the other half) It grows on you, doesn't it? Susan: (pouring him another) Can you feel your face? Marcus: Uh. (he grimaces) Yes. Susan: Tell me when you can't. That's when you've had enough. (switching topics) You don't think we're suited? Marcus: I didn't say that! Susan: So, what do you think about it? Marcus: (clearly not able to think straight) I'm sorry; I'm not tracking you. Susan: (smiling) What's her name, your lady love? Marcus: (very confused by now) Ah, I'm not telling that. Susan: Is she on Bab 5? Marcus: Susan . . . Susan: Hm? Marcus: Please don't ask me any more questions. Susan: Why? Marcus: Because I might answer them. Susan: (clearly pleased) Good. Her name? Marcus: No. Susan: Why not? Unless you've made her up, she's got to have a name. Marcus: Made her up? Susan: Not real. Fiction. Made up. Marcus: Are you saying I've been lying about her the whole time? Susan: It's possible. Marcus: Why would I do that? Susan: Good question. Why would you? Marcus: Oh God. (puts his head down on the table over his hands) Susan: You really shouldn't drink, Marcus. Marcus: Oh God. What's in that stuff? Susan: Fermented grain. Marcus: It should be outlawed. Susan: It has been. (reaches out and takes one of his hands by his head) Marcus. Marcus: Hm? Susan: Are you tracking me? Marcus: Mmm. Susan: Do you like me? Marcus: (muffled) Like you? Of course. Susan: Do you think we're friends? Marcus: I hope we are. Susan: Should we be close friends? Marcus: Close. Yes. Susan: Really close? Marcus: (raising his head blearily) I'm tracking, but what's the target? Susan: The state of our relationship: yours and mine. Marcus: (raising head fully, blinking rapidly) When did we start talking about . . . ? Susan: You don't trust me. Marcus: AH?? Susan: You won't tell me her name! Marcus: Now wait a minute! Susan: If you trusted me - Marcus: Now come on! Susan: Well, if you can't trust me . . . Marcus: Dear God. Susan: I guess we don't have much of a friendship. After all the woman's name is - Marcus: There is no bloody woman, all right!? No bloody name! (he realizes what he's said and his head goes down again) Oh God, you're driving me insane! Susan: (sitting back in her chair with a shrewd look on her face) Really? No woman; no name? Marcus: Bloody hell. Susan: You've been lying to me all this time? Marcus: No. Susan: Hm? What did you say? Marcus: I haven't lied to you. Susan: You just said . . . Marcus: (raising his head) You did this on purpose. Got me drunk on this brew . . . from hell. Susan: Yes. (smiles) Marcus, tell me the truth, once in for all. I know you want to tell me. You can't help yourself, right? Marcus: (comprehending) Oh no. Oh no. Not this way. (he attempts to stand and fails) Susan: (serious) You won't ever do it when you're sober, Marcus. I know you. And if you were honest with yourself, you'd know it too. Marcus: The truth? Susan: Yes. Just the truth. Marcus: "Just" the truth, she says! Susan: I'm waiting. Marcus: No, by God! If you knew --! Susan: If you don't tell me the truth, Marcus, how do you suppose that will make me feel? Marcus: (hand to his head; once again attempting to stand) Ahh! Susan: Want me to tell a truth first, and then you? Marcus: Jesus. Susan: All right. I'm really jealous of this other woman. See? I said it. If you would have told me her name earlier I would have hunted her down, and if she wasn't perfect, I'd have kicked her off the station. I really HATE her, in fact. Marcus: (staring at her) You do? Susan: (looking at her vodka glass, still half-full) God's truth. (she swallows the rest) Now you. Marcus: Ah, she's . . . (Susan looks at him expectantly.) Marcus: You can't kick her off the station. She's commander of the station. She's . . . Susan: She's . . . me. Marcus: Yes. (deflated) You hate me now. Susan: (surprised) No. Why would I hate you? Marcus: It's not what you expected. Susan: Well, life's that way; I don't hate life; I don't hate you. In fact, I think I really like you. Marcus: . . . what? Susan: Well, I didn't plan it that way; you're just really likeable. Marcus: (laughs) That's a lie! You've resisted long enough on that score! Susan: What? Am I not allowed to like you? That's rather cruel of you. Marcus: (now clutching his head in both hands) Oh God; I've got to lie down. (Susan stand and helps him to her couch. He lies down. She gets some ice and holds it to his forehead.) Susan: (whispering) Do I really drive you insane? Marcus: (groaning) God's honest truth, you do. Susan: (fondly) I'll try not to do it in the future. Marcus: (softly, fading off to sleep) It's inevitable. You can't help it. That's how I knew . . . I loved you. Susan: Marcus. Next morning. Susan's quarters. (Marcus is still sleeping on Susan's couch. Susan, in her robe, is making tea, rather haphazardly, as if she has never done it before. Marcus starts to wake. Susan watches him, smiling, as he groans in pain.) Marcus: Dear God, am I in hell? Susan: I don't know. I don't think so. Marcus: (slowly opening his eyes, becoming aware of where he is) Hello. What's this? (he turns his head and sees Susan. His eyes open wide.) Susan: Good morning. Marcus: (definitely) This must be heaven. (he sees that she's carrying tea to him) Oh, this IS heaven. (he sits up, gingerly holding his head) Did you poison me last night? Susan: Never ever drink alcohol, Marcus. Here. (She sits next to him on the couch and helps him drink the tea.) Susan: I hope I did this right; I don't drink tea. Marcus: You can't ruin tea. (Over the rim of the cup, his eyes fall on her utilitarian robe) What happened last night? Susan: How much do you remember? Marcus: Did we argue? Susan: Yes. Marcus: Okay. Did I reveal any state secrets? Susan: Some, but since most concerned me, I won't be telling anyone. Marcus: (putting down the tea) Since I'm not dead, I guess you weren't severely offended. Susan: Not severely. (Marcus looks down at his clothes, the couch, her robe again - assessing.) Susan: You don't remember a thing, do you? Marcus: Oh, I recall some things. Susan: Such as? Marcus: The meal was delicious. Susan: Thank you. Marcus: We talked about . . . um, the missions, and Delenn. You thought she was match-making. Then you asked me . . . Susan: HER name. Marcus: What did I say? Susan: The truth. Marcus: (eyes wide) I did? Susan: "There's no bloody woman, no bloody name." Marcus: (groans) I see. Susan: Then you said that I drive you crazy. Marcus: I did? Susan: Well, you said "insane." You were pretty drunk. Marcus: Ah. Susan: (decides to be lenient) No, you didn't do anything . . . impolite. Marcus: Thank God. (He looks at her quickly, gauging her reaction.) Marcus: I mean, if I was going to do - SOMETHING - I would want to at least . . . er Susan: Remember. Marcus: Yes. (Susan's hand communicator goes off. She returns to the kitchen to pick it up.) Susan: Yes? Oh. I see. All right. Give me half an hour. Well, I just got up, Garibaldi! Ah, what about him? You can't locate Marcus? Just a moment. (to Marcus) Want to start some rumors? Marcus: Ah, why not, if you're game? Susan: (to Garibaldi) He's here. I'll put him on. (Susan hands the communicator to Marcus with a wink.) Marcus: (slightly distracted by that wink) Chief. Ah, yes. Yes. All right. (Marcus hands the communicator back to Susan.) Marcus: He took that rather well. Susan: Who knows what he's thinking? Marcus: I have to run . . . Susan: I know. Marcus: Ah, thanks for the . . . Susan: Yes. Marcus: Well, bye. Susan: Tah-tah. (Marcus leaves in a hurry.) Susan: This is definitely one for the diary. Later the same day. (It is a break-up of a meeting. Sheriden, Delenn, Franklin, Garibaldi, Susan, Marcus etc. are preparing to leave. Garibaldi intercepts Marcus first.) Garibaldi: All right. I'm mystified. Marcus: Hm? Garibaldi: What was going on this morning? Marcus: I was borrowing tea from Susan. Garibaldi: (suspicious) "Susan?" IVANOVA doesn't drink tea. Marcus: (nonchallantly) Oh? (Marcus walks off. Garibaldi then attempts to intercept Susan.) Susan: (as soon as he is within range) I'm not telling you anything. Garibaldi: Ah, come ON. This has got to be good. Susan: Not a thing. (Susan walks off, and Garibaldi, at a loss, looks around, and spots Delenn.) Garibaldi: Delenn! (The passage of time flows by like a montage. Marcus and Susan together on the White Star. Susan sliding off of one of the White Star's uncomfortable beds, while Marcus attempts to adjust it for her. Marcus teaching Susan Minbari. Dinners and walks together. Garibaldi continuing to be suspicious, while Delenn is delighted. All in all, giving the impression that the relationship is slowly becoming closer, almost on the verge of intimate, all parties happy with the present state of affairs, until -- ) Some day in the indefinite future. (Babcom message from a merchant/dealer to Marcus) Dealer: Look, I found it, okay. You said you'd buy it if I got it for you. It's not easy to find something like this way out here, and there's no way I can return-ship this thing. It's too big. Marcus: (head in hand) All right. I'll take it, but you deliver it. I'll have people waiting at the destination to set it up. Dealer: (grinning) Your girlfriend is gonna LOVE this. Marcus: (low and despairingly) She's not my girlfriend. Dealer: What? Marcus: Never mind. Late that same day. (Susan is returning to her quarters after a long day at C & C. She stops at her door, noticing a note on the door. She removes it and reads.) Susan: "It comes from the heart. Don't hate me. -Marcus." Huh? What does he mean by- ? (Susan opens the door, steps inside, still puzzling over the note.) Susan: Lights. (The lights come up in the room and she wanders into more private bedroom at the back.) Susan: (looking up) What the --? (Where her regular bed ought to be, there is a huge cherrywood four-poster canopy bed with the usual pillows, comforter and canopy. It looks very comfortable and very soft. Susan, dazed, walks slowly to the bed, and runs a hand over the comforter. As if against her will, she sits down, then lays down, her hand still running over the softness.) Susan: Oh my God. (She is still holding the note in one hand. She looks at it again, dawning realization in her eyes.) Susan: The bastard. The cunning, scheming, sweetheart of a bastard! Computer! Message to Marcus Cole, audio only, quick-link. Babcom computer voice: Link established. Susan: Marcus, get yourself over here NOW! End message Babcom computer: Ended. Messaged received. Susan: (still looking at the note) What am I going to do with you, hm? Jesus, Marcus, how did you do this? Minutes later. (Marcus runs up the Susan's door, looking nervous and panicked. The door opens without him pressing the chime. Susan is leaning just inside, arms folded, one hand tapping her elboe. Her expression gives nothing away.) Marcus: Ah - I can explain. Susan: (expressionless) This ought to be good. Marcus: Well. You see. I began looking for one ever since our conversation on the White Star, about how you've always wanted a canopy bed. I made a deal with this merchant, and, it came in yesterday. Susan: You want to see it? Marcus: Ah. (looks at her carefully) You don't hate me? Susan: Not yet. Marcus: Okay. Sure. (They enter the quarters, and then the bedroom. They stand there, staring.) Marcus: It certainly is . . . big. Susan: Mm. Yes. Enough room for . . . (she looks at him pointedly) . . . the whole C & C. Marcus: (blushing) Do you hate it? Susan: (exasperated) Marcus, what am I going to do with you? Marcus: Just don't kill me, all right? If you don't want it, we could- Susan: Of course I want it! Marcus: AH? Susan: I've DREAMED about a bed like this! I've had erotic fantasies about a bed like this! (Marcus' mouth drops open. He shuts it, then wipes his forehead. He is now visibly sweating.) Marcus: You LIKE it? Susan: I LOVE it! Thank you! (Marcus grins, then beams with delight.) Marcus: Thank heavens. I thought you'd murder me. Susan: (changing moods abruptly) It's a very intimate gift, Marcus. How am I going to explain it? Anyone who knows me, knows I wouldn't buy this for myself. Marcus: Do you have to explain it? (Susan looks at him.) Marcus: Never mind. Susan: You might say, (she approaches the bed) it's a romantic gift, right? (She turns and sits on the bed and looks at him expectantly.) Marcus: (running a finger under his collar) I guess so. Susan: Even . . . lover-like? Marcus: Ah . . . Susan: Marcus, come here. Marcus: (nervously) Do I have to? (Susan stands and goes to him. She kisses him. He is astonished and frozen in place.) Susan: Come here. (She takes his hand and leads him to the side of the bed. He follows, not resisting, looking amazed.) Marcus: (still astounded, growing faintly hopeful) Ah - are you going to have your wicked way with me? Susan: Say, THAT'S an idea. (They kiss by the side of the bed. Marcus is much more enthusiastic this time, and gives as good as he gets.) Susan: (breathlessly) This is such a huge bed, isn't it? Marcus: (preoccupied) Mm. Susan: All sorts of things could happen in a bed like this, . . . but something's missing. Marcus: (smiling) Oh? Susan: Let's see. (she assesses him, then maneuvers him and propels him back onto the bed so she's on top) That's better. (They kiss again.) Susan: Marcus? Love? Marcus: (smiling wider at "love") Yes? Susan: Bid farewell to your unicorns, my dear. Marcus: Gladly, love. Most most gladly. END >From the author: If you got this far, I guess I shouldn't apologize, and instead, thank you for your perseverance. This is my first official fanfic, and was written in the course of 5 days after I had read a previous fanfic explaining the possible future of Susan and Marcus. I didn't agree with that version and began writing (or should I say "outpouring") ideas, first as notes, then as this script-like story. Having only a love of Babylon 5 and a "Teflon" memory (wherein names and places slide right off the brain synapses), I must apologize at least for any mistakes in the small details. Thanks to good friend Benares (who has written fanfics for Ranma 1/2), who was the first to read and laugh and point out (very nicely) all the flaws. I'd love constructive criticism and/or praise. Drop me an e-mail at sahari@ aol.com or sahari@pacbell.net. I'd love to hear how people are receiving this. Thanks.