From bmi@charm.net Tue Dec 24 17:37:39 1996
Date: Thu, 03 Oct 1996 07:23:46 -0500
From: Ann Zembala <bmi@charm.net>
To: b5-creative@lists.best.com
Subject: Respite

Many thanks, everyone, for all the positive and encouraging comments
you sent me on my recent story, "Risk."  Here is a second one, and I
welcome your reactions to it as well.  It's a prequel of sorts to
"Risk," and like it has a very high SLUSH factor.  It takes place just
before and during "Messages from Earth," Season Three.

Many thanks also to Leslie, Sue, Alta & Kymberlee for beta-reading this
for me. :)

Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of JMS, Babylonian
Productions and Warner Bros. and it is not my intention to infringe on
those rights.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


                         RESPITE
                             by Ann Zembala


   Stars overtaken by white flashes of lightning; the sudden pull into
red, swirling light; surrounding, caressing, endless...
   Dr. Mary Kirkish stared out of the flyer's window at the vast mystery
of hyperspace.  She had seen it many times before, of course.  Too many
times in the nightmare of the past few months, as she fled from planet
to planet, system to system seeking a safe haven.   A haven which seemed
always just beyond her grasp.  Still, as much as she had seen it,
hyperspace continued to fascinate her.  More importantly the swirling
continuum of it was almost hypnotic, and she found that if she stared at
it long enough she could slip into a trance.  One that gave her a few
brief moments of the semblance of peace of mind.
   True piece of mind was something Mary Kirkish knew she would never
know again.  She knew this as surely as she knew the days and hours that
were left in her life would be blessedly few.  Even if she could find
that safe haven -- that place where "they" could not find her-- she
would still have the horror of living with her own memories.
   The memories.  She shuddered.  And the endless string of sleepless
nights where she had tried desperately to find a few hours respite from
her waking memories, only to be enveloped by nightmare versions of those
memories, magnified into terror beyond bearing:
   Standing at the window in a bunker on Mars, watching...
   A black spider in the sky, seething with darkness and evil ....
   A scream that reaches into the brain and tears it apart cell by
cell...
   The dead bodies of friends and colleagues, broken and bleeding, their
eyes frozen in terror, crying out for pity...
   Mary squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her hands.  For years the
overt intimidation and the unspoken threats had kept her quiet, had
insured her passive cooperation in whatever Interplanetary Expeditions
and "they" had asked her to do.  The uncertainty and terror made worse
by the fact that she didn't even know who "they" were -- only that they
were highly-placed people in her own world's government.
   She had told no one; seen no one but her colleagues.  She had done
nothing but work -- and try to sleep.  Her one act of resistance had
been secretly remaining in contact with the rest of the ill-fated Mars
team.  But little by little that contact had been broken.  One by one
they had gone silent.  She had heard rumors of their fates from mutual
friends.  And now she was the only one left.
   Still, she had tried to maintain a semblance of normality, willing
herself to forget, burying herself in her work.  Eventually she had
found that, if she was exhausted enough, she could make it through a
night without the nightmares waking her.
   Then she had been sent to Ganymede.  And it had started all over
again.  As soon as she saw it, the black monster that had haunted her
days and nights for seven years, she knew that she could no longer
pretend.  Could no longer go along with whatever they wanted.  And when
she found out what they planned to do, she had fled.
   Now six months later, the fatigue and the constant fear of life on
the run had taken its toll as well.  At times, she was ready to end it
-- to let them find her, take her, finish it.  But then she remembered
the importance of what she knew, and she was determined to stay alive
until she could find someone.  Someone who would believe.  And who would
act.
   "Are you all right, Dr. Kirkish?"  A deep, gentle voice interrupted
her somber thoughts.  She turned to look at the dark-haired man seated
next to her, piloting the flyer.  The expression of quizzical concern on
his bearded face told her immediately what her own must look like.  She
forced a smile.  "I'm fine, Marcus.  Really.  I'm... just tired.  And
it's Mary, remember?"  She was suddenly aware of how just talking to
him, having him near, calmed her mind.
   It was amazing how well she felt she knew him, even though it had
only been three days.  Strong and determined, but kind and caring.  She
had known immediately that she could trust him, though she wasn't sure
why.  Something in his eyes....
   She had had no reason to trust him, only his word and a cryptic
explanation of how he knew who she was and how he had found her.  But
none of that had mattered.  Because he had believed her story.  Because
he had already known it, before she had even told it.  And because he
could take her to others who would believe her, and most importantly,
would do something with the knowledge she had carefully preserved.
Something to stop "them."
   Then, almost immediately, he had proven her instincts right by saving
her life.  She hadn't even seen the two men who entered the run-down bar
where she had come to meet him, even after months of fine-tuning her
instincts so that she was aware of every stranger and every glance in
her direction.  She hadn't noticed them even when they came within a few
feet of her, their weapons already drawn and set to fire.  But he had,
and in the time it took her to respond to his shout of warning and hit
the floor, he had leapt across the table and disarmed the men.
   She had listened to the sound of fists smashing bone from her
crouched position under the table, not daring to look up.  Then silence,
broken finally by his accented voice sounding oddly humorous through his
panting: "Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?"  His arms
had surrounded her, pulling her up as if she were a feather, holding her
until she had finally stopped shaking.  Looking past his shoulder she
had glimpsed the semiconscious bodies of her assailants lying on the
floor, just as the room had begun swirling and her eyes had clouded
over.
   An hour later she had found herself on the flyer --  a type unknown
to her, could it really be Minbari?  Headed, he had said, for the space
station Babylon 5.
   During the next three days, Marcus had done everything he could to
put her at ease, keeping her distracted from her dark thoughts with his
charming banter and outlandish stories.  He talked about the people she
would meet with, relaying numerous stories about them although he
admitted he had only met them himself a short while before.  He seemed
particularly intrigued by the station's female second-in-command.  Mary
watched him as he talked about this unusual Russian woman to try to
judge the depth of his feelings for her, but he would only say that she
was "a challenge to get close to," so she assumed there was nothing real
there.  At least not yet.
   Mary knew that Marcus's concern for her went beyond what his
responsibility to carrying out his mission demanded.  He not only saw to
her physical comforts, but seemed genuinely concerned with healing her
emotional wounds as well.  Odd that, as he would say, because when she
looked in his eyes she sometimes saw a hint of his own pain, his own
personal nightmares.  But she didn't ask.
   He talked of so many things that, after months of virtual solitude,
her head spun at times.  But he never asked about the things that had
brought them together.  Never pressed her for details beyond what she
had told him at the first fateful meeting.  And never pushed her when
she fell into silence, staring out into hyperspace as she was doing now.
She was happy to listen to his soothing voice, watch the red swirls, and
drift into a reverie, trying to forget....
   Until the images returned and she started to shake once more.
   "Mary, there is something wrong.  Are you cold?"
   He stood to move next to her, taking off his dark cloak and placing
it over her shoulders, squeezing them lightly as he did.  She reached up
and placed her hand on top of his, holding it there.  When he touched
her she felt a flash of strength -- and something almost electric.  She
didn't want it to stop.  It made her feel alive.  She hadn't realized
until that moment how numb the long years of tension had made her.
   Mary only reluctantly released his hand so that he could return to
his seat.  He continued to watch her, studying her face.  She suddenly
had a vision of how it must appear to him -- lined by stress, her jaw
constantly clinched, dark bags under her eyes.  She concentrated on
relaxing her facial muscles, breathing more slowly, lifting her head,
straightening her shoulders.  She smiled; this time it was not so much
of an effort.
   "Thank you, Marcus.  I feel better now.  Sorry to be such a ...
wounded bird, so constantly in need of care and attention..."
   He laughed, a full, hearty laugh.  "Mary, those are amusing words,
coming from one of the bravest women I've ever met.  Listen, I can put
this on automatic pilot for a bit.  Why don't we turn in and get some
sleep?
   She nodded, still smiling, trying to fight off the inevitable anxiety
as she stood and moved with him towards the bunks.  Sleep.  Maybe this
time she *would* sleep.  Maybe this time she would be able to keep
the nightmares at bay, if she concentrated her thoughts only on him...

+++++++++++++

   She sat with Marcus on the cool green grass, watching the waves
lapping against the rocks that lined the lake.  She lay back in his arms
and snuggled against his warmth, watching the crisp white clouds gently
floating by.  She felt calm, secure... happy.  He reached down to gently
touch her check, stroking his fingers down to her lips, brushing them
lightly.  His arms tightened around her.
   Suddenly the sky darkened.  The clouds rushing, falling against each
other, churning.  The sun was blocked by a spreading blackness, glinting
with silver.  Her throat tightened as she watched it take form, starkly
outlined against the dying light of the sun.  The monster, its spidery
arms moving, searching.  It turned as if it had found her.  It came
closer and closer, reaching down to swallow her, and the horrible
screaming began in her head.....
   Mary shot up in her bed, her hand moving to her mouth to stop her own
screams.  She shook uncontrollably, her other hand clutching the
bedsheets.
   He was by her side in an instant.  Sitting on the bunk, Marcus took
her in his arms.  He crooned wordlessly as he rocked her like a baby,
soothing her, patting her.  When her shaking stopped, he gently laid her
down on her pillow, smoothing her hair away from her face, pulling up
the sheets to cover her.  She watched him, eyes wide and glazed with
tears. His shirt was off; he was dressed only in a light pair of shorts.
Her eyes drank in the sight of his hard muscled chest in the dim light
of the cabin.
   She whispered, "Marcus, please... stay with me."
   He hesitated a moment, then smiled and slid into the bunk next to
her, staying on top of the sheet.  He laid on his side and put his arm
lightly around her waist, but kept his body from touching hers.  "Sleep
now, Mary," he said softly.
   She closed her eyes but could not sleep.  Not just from the residue
of her nightmare, but because every fiber of her body was aware of the
closeness of his.  Where his arm touched her she felt her body tingling.
She placed her hand on his arm and stroked it imperceptibly.
   She was aware of a slowly growing ache, a need to feel him.  For
several agonizing minutes she fought to ignore it, but abruptly it swept
over her.  With a small cry, she turned on her side and rolled against
his chest, burying her face in his shoulder.  Her arm went around his
back.  He moved back slightly, trying to extricate himself slowly.  She
lay perfectly still, holding her breath.
   "Dr. Kirkish... Mary ... I don't think this will work.  Perhaps it
would be better if I go back to my own bunk..." he said, gently moving
her arm away from his body.
   The ache had become painful, a cramp threatening to consume her.  She
begged.  "Please Marcus, don't leave.  Stay with me.  Hold me..."
   "Mary, I can't stay.  You are -- a beautiful woman.  I couldn't keep
myself from wanting to ..."
   Elated, she pressed herself against him harder.  "You don't have to.
Please stay with me Marcus.  I want... please."  She raised her eyes to
capture his.  He drew in a sharp breath at the look on her face, a look
she knew mirrored her desire for him.
   Trying to maintain a light tone, Marcus said, "Mary, I shouldn't take
advantage of you... You are incredibly desirable, but I try not to
ravish the women I rescue.  Wouldn't be very chivalrous of me, now would
it?"
   She reached up with a smile and put her fingers to his lips, quieting
him.  All she had heard in his words was that he found her desirable.
Her heart leapt with hope and she felt strengthened by a sudden sense of
resolve. "Marcus, I don't expect anything from you.  I don't need
anything ... but this.  Please, Marcus, I just want to forget for a
little while.  It's been so long, so long since I could lose myself in
someone else.  Just this once -- just for a little while -- stay with
me..."
   Her resolve faltered and she lowered her eyes, suddenly ashamed.  He
had been so kind, so compassionate.  And now she was demanding that he
let her use him to fulfill her own needs and desires.  She felt tears
sliding down her cheeks.  "I'm sorry, Marcus," she said brokenly.
   His fingers caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears.  He cupped her
chin and raised her face.  She trembled, not daring to open her eyes.
She felt his lips gently touch her eyelids, then kiss where the tears
had streaked.  "It's all right, Mary," he whispered against her cheek.
"I understand... and I think... I need this, too."  His lips moved
slowly down to hers, and he brushed them lightly back and forth.  She
held her breath as his arms slid around her, pulling her to him as he
deepened the pressure of his lips.
   She drew back to search his eyes, and saw in them his understanding
of her craving for closeness and escape.  And something else as well--
his own aching aloneness, his own desperate need to heal.
   It was like opening a floodgate inside her.  With a cry, she fell
back into his arms.  He answered her passion with his own, and
somewhere in the long night, they both found a measure of peace.

++++++++++++
  
   A gentle touch on her cheek woke her.  Marcus was standing next to
the bunk, already dressed.  She breathed deeply, feeling refreshed and
revitalized, stronger than she had in months.
   "I hated to wake you, you looked so peaceful.  But we're almost to
the jumpgate, I think you had better get ready..."
    Mary could sense his awkwardness.  He stood close, but avoided her
eyes.  She was flooded with sudden understanding.  "Marcus, I ..."
    "We'll talk later, all right?"  He said softly. "I better get back
to the controls."
   She dressed slowly, carefully choosing the words to say to assure him
that she didn't expect anything from him now, that there was no reason
for him to feel any guilt or obligation to her. She resolutely ignored
her own jumbled emotions; they had not been part of the bargain. She
knew she had only a few minutes to talk to him before they would be at
the station.  Squaring her shoulders, she walked out to face him.
   He was silent through her practiced speech.  She winced inwardly at
the momentary look of relief that appeared on his face, but it was
quickly replaced by a somber tenderness.  "Mary, I want you to know that
last night meant a lot to me.  It's also been a long time for me...
since I've been able to lose myself for a while, to find comfort in
someone's arms.  And you gave me that.  It was very special, but I'm not
in a position right now to make promises or commitments..."  She stopped
him, and started to remind him of the uncertainty of her own life, her
own future.  But before she could finish, they were approaching the
docking bays of Babylon 5.

+++++++++++++

   Things happened quickly after that.  Too quickly.  Landing in a
deserted docking bay, they made their way rapidly through darkened
passages, listening for footsteps.  Almost immediately upon their
arrival, Marcus had sensed danger.  The plan was for them to meet one
his "contacts," who would hide her in someplace called "downbelow" until
he could gather the people she had come there to meet with.  They never
made it.  The three men were waiting for them, hidden behind crates.
They were quickly cornered.
   Marcus pulled Mary up on a set of the packing crates.  With a
powerful shove he burst through a ceiling panel, jumping up to the next
level.  He reached down and dragged her through; they ran, but the men
followed and suddenly surrounded them.  In an instant Marcus was a swirl
of fury, moving in front of her and fighting them fiercely as they
attacked from every angle.  A heavy staff had suddenly appeared in his
hands, and he was using it and his feet to fight off the overwhelming
odds.
   "Get out of here.  Go!"  he shouted.  She rushed through the doorway,
running blindly.  Not even seeing the fourth man until he stepped in
front of her and grabbed her.  A sharp pain exploded on the side of her
head.  She heard herself scream as everything went black...

   Mary slowly came to consciousness, aware first of the quiet noises
around her and the hardness of the bed under her, then of the familiar
smells of a medical lab.  Her head pounded with pain, her body telling
her with sharp sensation that she was still alive.  Suddenly it all
flooded back to her.  She sat up, crying out, "Marcus!"
   A concerned young doctor turned and moved quickly to her side.  "Dr.
Kirkish, please lay back down.  Marcus is fine, he was here until just a
few minutes ago.  He was called away, but he'll be back in an hour.  Now
please, you have to stay completely still until the medication I've
given you has a chance to take affect."
   The doctor's calm voice and reassuring manner finally enabled her to
relax enough to close her eyes.  He was telling her again that Marcus
was unhurt in the attack, adding the odd comment that he was "remarkably
recuperative" even when he was injured, when she felt herself slipping
back into unconsciousness.
   When she came to again, she was immediately aware of Marcus's
presence next to her.  She opened her eyes and looked into his.  Grave
and compassionate, he took her hand and helped her up.  "It's time."

   His arm supporting her, Mary tried to still her shaking as she walked
down the hall.  Her heart was pounding and her mind racing, unable to
believe she was finally at the end of her long, painful journey.  It
didn't matter what happened to her after this; she had made it.  She had
beaten them, just by staying alive long enough to reach this moment.
Thanks to him.
   They paused for a moment in the doorway of the meeting room.  Looking
silently up at Marcus, drawing on his strength and the belief in her
that she saw in his eyes, Mary took a deep breath and walked into the
room.

++++++++++++++

   "Are you ready, Dr. Kirkish?" asked Lennier.
   Mary stood in the lobby of the departure bay.  The meeting had gone
better than she had dared hope.  The relief she felt once she had
delivered her message had been a cleansing rush.  The overwhelming
burden had been lifted from her, passed on to others with the will and
strength to do what had to be done.  Mary was sure of it.
   Nevertheless, some of the old anxiety had returned, almost an
automatic reflex brought on by her narration to the war council.  She
clung to the reassurances of the graceful Minbari ambassador and her
polite, gentle attache.  Lennier had handled everything, from arranging
for new clothing for her from the station's shops to this final duty,
accompanying her to the transport which would take her to Minbari space.
The non-descript vessel was empty except for her escort of four Minbari
Rangers.  Lennier went on ahead, but Mary hesitated, taking a last look
down the corridor.  She picked up her bag and headed towards the ramp.
Suddenly, familiar footsteps made her whirl around.  Marcus was there,
taking her hands.
   "Mary, I hate goodbyes.. I don't usually come for them, but here I
am.  I couldn't let you leave without..."
   She stopped him, putting her finger to his lips.  "You don't have to
say anything, Marcus.  I meant it when I said no strings, no
obligations, no guilt."  She pushed back her rising emotions, hiding
them.  "I know we'll probably never see each other again, and that's
okay.  I've been given my life back, at least for a while.  If this
works, I just want to make a new life for myself, do whatever I can to
help in this fight.  If it doesn't work, then it won't matter anyway."
   "Don't talk like that...."
   "Marcus, who knows what will happen, if any of us will come out of
this thing?  It's no use pretending or making plans for the future.  All
we can do is fight as hard as we can as long as we can...
   "But thank you -- for caring.  And thank you for the respite, for the
few hours of peace and warmth.  I'll never forget them, and I'll never
forget you."
   She stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips lightly against his.  He
closed his arms around her and kissed her in return, holding her against
him for a long moment, then letting her go.  She picked up her bag and
with a final half-smile, turned and boarded the transport.  Lennier was
waiting for her just inside, and he took her arm to lead to her seat.
She looked back over her shoulder for a last glimpse of Marcus, but all
she could see was the swirl of his cloak as he rounded the corner.
   Later, she sat and looked at hyperspace, her thoughts drifting once
more.  But this time infused with hope for the future, despite her words
to Marcus.  Then, for a few moments, she let her thoughts stray to him,
even as she felt her heart breaking.  Comforting herself with the only
thing she could -- the knowledge that she had fewer sleepless nights
ahead of her, now that she had the memories of his arms around her to
ward off the nightmares of the dark.


                 *************End****************



"They say that when a Ranger dies, the figures... shed three tears:
 one of water, and two of blood."
"And you, do you believe this?"
"I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago, Ambassador.  Part of
 the heart goes dead.  Best to leave it that way."
                               -  Marcus and Delenn, "Matters of Honor"

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