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Susan ends the day like any other day. It has been just another day after all. A day with Bester in it, which made it disproportionately annoying, but other than that? Just another day.
Nothing special.
At all.
When her shift ends, she grabs a bite in the Zocalo before returning straight to her quarters.
She's tired. But, that too, isn't noteworthy.
She has a drink. Because why not?
She showers. That should be uneventful too.
She knows better.
She knows to expect the images her mind will throw at her as soon as the hot, steaming water hits her scalp.
Blonde hair. All wet. A towel on her shoulders. Soft, flowing satin. A teasing smile. Inviting lips.
Why did it have to be showering?
It's not exactly a trigger that's easily avoided. She's tried taking vibe showers, but all it does is make her mind focus on "real hot water showers" and the smoky voice those words had been spoken in before ending up at the very same memories.
Glorious indeed.
She knows to expect the images. They don't disappoint.
This time, however, they're followed by Bester's leering grin as he mentions dissection. He was trying to rile them. She pointed it out herself. It made sense. There's no way to judge the truth of the statement. Knowing the bastard, banking on a lie seems like a safe enough bet.
Logically, she knows all of this.
Her brain is very much on board with it.
Her heart is not.
Images of Talia sharing her bed flash inside her mind, intercut with Bester's sneer. She tries to will him out of her head only to have him replaced by glimpses of sterile labs, bright overhead lights and laser scalpels.
She turns the water to scalding hot, hoping the physical pain will drown out that of the soul.
Minutes go by.
Eventually, the station's water reclamation system intervenes, leaving her standing there, dripping wet.
As she reaches for her towel she squeezes her eyes shut several times.
Faces get wet in the shower. That's just the natural order of things.
They have no business doing so otherwise.