Name: AW Palmer
E-Mail: AWPalmer@aol.com
Title: The very long night of Susan Ivanova

	Author's note:
Greetings and salutations all. 
	I was really bummed about Claudia Christian's departure from Babylon 5. That was second only to Ivanova leaving the station itself. Since then, I've been asking myself a lot of questions, among them… Will she ever face up to her emotional baggage? Or will she just keep it bottled up? This is a crack at the answer to that question, for my own curiosity and for those who are peeved that Ivanova is now just part of the ether, dozens of light-years from her friends. 
	Anyway, enough of my blabbing. Enjoy! I welcome comment and criticism, but please be kind, as this is my first B5 fanfic. 

	Standard disclaimers. All B5 characters, technology, the station itself, etc., are property of Warner Bros. and TNT. Possibly still to PTEN, though I'm not sure. I'm writing this for the sole sake of recreation, or to put a fresh light on an old quote: "Damn the $!! Full speed ahead!"

	The date: November 22nd, 2262
	The place: Warlock-class cruiser, Sector 901, two jumps from the Rim

	She felt herself drifting in the ether, in that realm where you're caught between life and death, the scale not tipping too far either way. She couldn't really remember why she was there; she just had a vague recollection of what had happened. She was commanding a ship, probably one of the White Stars, in a battle with some advance destroyers Clark had sent after them. They were kicking serious ass throughout the battle, blowing up the destroyers as they went along…
	…then, all of a sudden, as her ship was drifting, unable to navigate, a remnant of one of the destroyers plowed right into the bridge of the White Star, killing everyone on board except her and…
	Her mind shifted. She was now in some sort of medical facility. She was dying, flying up toward the light with no hope of coming back to life. Then, something, someone, started pulling her down. As she felt herself coming back to the land of the living, she saw another fly toward the light. She would always remember who. The man with the shoulder-length black hair, skinny mustache and beard, that British accent, the Ranger's uniform…
	And those whispered words, just before he disappeared into the ether…
	……"I love you."
	No, please don't leave me, Marcus. Don't make me love you, just to lose you. No, no…NO…
	"NNNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
	Susan shot up in her bed, cold sweat pouring all over, her breath coming and going too fast, like her heartbeat. "Marcus?" She called out weakly, still disoriented by the dream. 
	"Lights," she ordered, her room instantly brightening to normal. It took a few minutes for her breathing to go back to normal, her pulse to slow down. When she was calm enough, she swallowed several times, as though physically forcing those feelings back into the bottle. She stood up and slid off her robe, letting it fall to the floor. 
She walked over to the stall, stepped in, and turned on the vibes and anti-bacterial lighting. Not bothering to use any soap or shampoo, she just let the vibes wash over her, feeling all the sweat and unclean stuff go down the drain. While the vibe shower did its job as well or better than any water shower, it was a distant second in relaxation or stimulation. God, how she missed the water showers in Babylon 5. Why did I leave B5? She always felt relaxed and composed after a shower, no matter the events of the previous day…or the dreams of the night. 
With the memories coming at her full force, she remembered why she had left. It was a wonder how she forgot. It was because back at Babylon 5, there were constant reminders of what had happened to her…and the final fate of him. Everyone back there were reminders of what happened every time she had somebody to love. In the shower, her shields were cracking beneath the onslaught of the memories. She remembered every one who had loved her… André Ivanov… Sophie Ivanov… Ganya… Malcolm…Talia ……… …Marcus…
"Damn you!!" She yelled, punching the glass of the shower, braking it and bloodying her fist in the process. Cradling it, she crumpled to the floor, her shields completely broken down, the tears and sobs flooding out of her. 
"Damn you, Marcus…" 

Commander Jack Carter tapped his fingers on the armrest impatiently. Where is she? He wondered, waiting for her to come to the bridge. "Computer, what's the time?"
"The time is 0834 hours."
"Over half an hour late," he said sotto voce, "That's not like her." He tapped his link. "Captain Ivanova, please report to the bridge." Five seconds passed. Ten. "Captain?" Still nothing.
He turned in his chair to one of the stations. "Lt. Drake?"
She looked up from her station. "Sir?"
"Go down to the captain's quarters and see if she's alright."
She shrugged. "No problem, sir. I'll get a crewman down there ASAP."
"I asked you to do it, Lieutenant," he said sharply. "Get on it."
Inhaling sharply, she muttered a bitter, "Yes, sir." She left the bridge, leaving Carter to his thoughts. I hope she's okay. 

Drake arrived at Susan's quarters about five minutes later. She pushed the door summons, calling her rank several times. When that didn't work, she opened the door manually. The door rotated open, showing a shambles of quarters…along with some blood. 
"My God," she whispered involuntarily. She followed the trail of blood through the living room, saw it go out of the restroom, and into the bedroom with the door closed. 
She tapped on it lightly. "Captain? Captain, are you in there?"
There was a small sound coming from inside. It sounded like whimpering. Opening the door slowly, Drake caught her first glimpse inside. Her heart lurched.
"My god." She activated her link. "Drake to MedLab. Get a team down here, stat!"

As Doctor Johnson worked on Susan in the surgery room, Commander Carter questioned Lt. Drake.
"What the hell happened in there, Lieutenant?" Carter demanded.
Drake shrugged. "I don't know what happened, sir. What I do know is that when I came through the door, I saw a trail of blood going from her shower stall to her living room, and from there into her bedroom."
"How was she acting?"
Another shrug. "She was curled into a ball, cradling that hand of hers. And she kept murmuring something over and over again."
Carter's look took on concern along with alarm. "What was she murmuring?"
Drake's brow furrowed in thought. "It sounded like…I don't know…Damocles, Arcos?…Demo, Argus…or maybe…"
"Damn you, Marcus!!!" There was a crash of equipment in the Bay. Drake and Carter turned to see Doctor Johnson struggling to hold her down. 
"Captain, please calm down…"
"Damn you!!"
"Captain, please…"
"Damn you!!! Damn you…damn you…"
Silence reigned again. There were shouts coming from inside the surgery room.
"…keep her under anesthesia, Nurse, or I'll have your hide for breakfast!"
Johnson stormed out of the bay, pulling off his gloves. 
"How's she doing, Doctor?" Drake asked. 
"Her right hand is severely lacerated. Punching through a pane of glass will do that." Ignoring Carter's look of irritation, the Latino doctor continued, "I've taken care of her hand, though it'll be in a cast for several weeks."
Carter looked at the now-sedated Ivanova, strapped down though still murmuring softly. 
"Any idea what caused her to punch that pane of glass in the first place, Doctor?"
Johnson shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist. Maybe she ran out of her favorite shampoo and got mad."
Carter stepped up to Johnson until their faces were a millimeter apart. "I'm not amused by your black humor, Doctor," Carter said in a low voice, an indication of how pissed off he was right now. "Something's wrong with the captain. I don't know what it is, but I intend to find out. And I expect you to, as well." He turned to leave, but turned back to Johnson. "And another thing, Doctor; if you don't stop being smart about your patients, I'll take some of that bad-tasting medicine you're always prescribing and feed it to you as a suppository!"
Johnson flinched at that. "Yes, sir," he said bitterly. "Excuse me, I have to get back to my patient."
"You do that," Carter said darkly.
As Johnson went back into the bay, Carter turned back to Drake. "Get up to your station, Lieutenant. I'll be on the bridge shortly."
"Yes, sir." As they headed out into the corridor, Drake asked, "What are you going to do, sir?"
"Make an important call."