Chapter Text
Disclaimers: I don't own this and no money is being made.
The title, incidentally, is quite tongue in cheek. It's the name of a Cary Grant movie.
NB: Italics indicate characters' thoughts.
"Hello Mama. How are you today?"
Sophia Ivanova did not respond.
That was the norm these days. It had started ten years before, Psi-Corps showing up at their door like clockwork. It was the law.
One did not question the law.
Meanwhile, a woman, wife and mother, lay disappearing.
"Suzatchka..." The whisper was barely audible.
"Yes Mama?" But there was no response.
"Susan, would you mind fetching me another cup of tea?"
Ten year old Susan got up from the couch she was lying on, grumbling.
Her father Andrei watched her leave. She was so very much like him, with her vivid imagination and creative mind, and that damn stubbornness.
It was a trait he had appreciated when it had come to building his life, as it had permitted him to endure what things needed to be endured. Still, it drove him insane when it surfaced in his child. His son Ganja, although quite a determined lad, had blessedly not shown signs of it. Susan, on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in doing things which would make him angry. He remembered one incident in which she had insulted a dinner guest of theirs. Granted, the man had been insufferably pompous: convinced his conclusions pertaining to everything in life were death defying wisdom. And granted, her way of deflating the man had been most...creative. Despite himself, he chuckled as he recalled the way she had somehow managed to turn every sentence their guest had uttered into utter ridicule by simply repeating everything he said, with interesting inflections of her voice. Ganja, Sophia, and the other guests had all sat, breathing strangely as they tried to contain their laughter, as this performance went on. The guest in question had finally left, never to return to a place where he was to be treated in such a "revolting fashion". But it had angered him. She was his child, and their guest had been her elder, and both facts demanded she behave appropriately.
(A few days later)
His love, his Sophia was dead.
They had found her, two days before, a vial of pills still clutched in her hand.
The funeral and Shiva had been yesterday, and had been filled with visits by distant relatives -which had not much interest in any of them before- and mostly forgotten acquaintances come to pay their respects.
Both Ganja and Susan had been stoic. No outbursts, no tears.
Perhaps for them, as for him, tears could not come because, to his heart, it was impossible that she was gone.
It had only become possible for him in the last day or so, whenever his soul ripped through the veneer-daze of shock which surrounded him. Looking up at the stars beyond what was left of his home, that night, he swore his children would have the courage to fight as he had not. He promised himself he would forge them, akin to steel, so that they would be able to fight even that which appeared inevitable.
On the life of my children I swear it. He thought to himself.
"Marcus, what are you doing?"
He looked down to see the face of the fair-haired young woman who spoke to him.
He was rather precariously perched atop a pile of rocks facing a forest, which had been host to many a childish game for him, in years past.
"Morwenna, what are you doing here?" He said, not answering her question.
She held out her hand to him, smiling.
After a moment, he took the proffered hand and let her help him down. "I came to tell you something." She said eagerly. "But first things first: what's got you so preoccupied? Because I'm assuming that's the reason you've been avoiding me for the past few days..."
He sighed. "Oh, I don't know that it's anything important. It's just..."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. It's Dylan. He's come back from wherever the hell he went to for almost two years, and he wants me to go with him."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows rose.
"He also wants me to go with him to speak with the Governor. He says we need to evacuate, that we need to leave here."
"What? Why the hell would we have to do that?"
"I don't know!" He said, rather abruptly. He and Dylan had already had words on the subject. Who the hell did Dylan think he was, anyway, barging in here like that after two years?
Looking back at Morwenna, Marcus's expression softened.
"Sorry." He said, smiling. "Now what's the news that's got you so excited?"
She looked up into his eyes. "I've got the claim, Marcus."
"The one your father promised you?"
She laughed delightedly. "Yes! The *very* rich in ore deposit claim! The one he promised he would give me *someday*, when I was old enough..."
"Aha! *That* one." Marcus said teasingly. She gave him a mock dirty look. They had always gotten along.
Actually, they had always *more* than gotten along, since Marcus doubted the deep friendship which existed between them could be fully encompassed by 'getting along'. Her features suddenly became serious, betraying anxiety.
"Marcus..." She said, visibly hesitant about something. Then she seemed to desperately gather her courage, and startled him.
"I love you Marcus." She said simply. And shocked him even more by bridging the distance between them and pressing her lips to his.
"Morwenna?" He gasped when he had managed to extricate himself. "What the..."
Taking in his shocked expression, and general lack of encouraging response, she fled.
He hadn't seen her for almost a week, though he had at first tried to find her.
He had eventually decided, however, that perhaps the best thing to do was to put some distance between them for a while. And so he had decided to leave, accepting a temporary job offer which promised to take him outside the colony's solar system for a few days.
"But *why* won't you listen to me Marcus? I'm telling you they'll be here soon!" Dylan had said to him at the time.
Marcus had simply ignored him. He had been very close to his brother, years before. When their parents had died in a landslide in one of the colony's large mines, Marcus had been only eight years old. Dylan, being of legal age, had taken his little brother in, and taken care of him as best he could. Once he was old enough, Marcus had insisted on fending for himself, moving out and taking several temporary jobs mining ore. There was always work for those who wanted it... And he had saved, so as to buy his own claim, someday. But despite Marcus's fierce independence, both brothers had stayed close. Then Dylan had simply left, with no explanation and without telling anyone where he was going. Marcus had been hurt, but had learned to live with it.
Then Dylan had come back, spouting triumph and glory of galactic proportions, as well dire warnings, which had only served to exasperate Marcus.
Their colony did not even have an official name, indeed, it was still known to its inhabitants by star chart designation. Being so far from galactic traffic, it had no strategic value, and though rich in certain kinds of ore, it was hardly valuable enough to attract much attention. Therefore, the idea that anyone would want to bother them had appeared ludicrous to Marcus, as well as to everyone else on the colony.
And so Marcus had left, leaving Dylan to his delusions. When he came back, his home was no more.
[Author's note: I need to thank my beta readers for this, Miki and Julie (and thanks to Rebekkah for offering). Thanks a bunch, your comments were *very* useful. BTW, I want to credit Julie with giving me a nice idea which I hadn't fully considered as concerns the direction of this story.]
She stared at the data crystal in her hand. So small. Everything else had been lost with him. He had sent this just a day before his ship was destroyed. She put it in the viewing slot for the twentieth time.
"Susan." He said. "I hope this message finds you well."
No, not well. Never well again.
"I am sending you this message because..." He hesitated before continuing, his expression serious. "I wanted to ask your forgiveness."
You're asking forgiveness of me? She said wordlessly.
"I know you did not -and continue not to- approve of my decision to leave. But I should not have let it become the source of a rift between us. I do not regret my decision, how could I, when there is so much reason for me to be here? Here, I have found a purpose bigger than survival. But I cannot be completely happy knowing that you and father -my family- are away from me. And I also know the same must be true of you. So, by asking your forgiveness, I seek to bring you closer."
"Will you forgive Suzatchka?" His smile froze.
She took the crystal out of the viewing slot. There was nothing left to say. She put her head into her hands for a moment. Her father had not contacted her in three months.
They had had another of their arguments after she had decided to leave school for a year to travel. Despite the fact that she was now living away from home, he still seemed to believe in controlling her. Because of this they had had words, and now, when she had just learned of the destruction of her brother's ship on the newsnets two weeks before, her father was not responding to her calls.
Indeed, she thought, remembering the face on the screen a moment ago, there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say, except to the walls of the threadbare room she found herself in.
Nothing to say, because there was no one left to say it to.
Suddenly she raised her head as a thought struck her. There was no one left to say it to, but perhaps... Perhaps there was a way for her to say it still.
She stood and went to get the address directory in her room, searching for the military recruitment offices.
Almost fourteen years had passed, and some things hadn't changed.
Susan Ivanova stared at the console before her, deep in thought.
"Susan?" A voice dragged her from sad remembrance. She took a deep breath, bringing herself back to the here and now.
"Yes Marcus?"
"Are you all right?"
"Just fine." She responded abruptly. Some things never changed. "What's our status?"
The Whitestar class ship they were on had taken some serious damage during the last fight, which required them to stay in Earth's solar system for a few days for repairs. They weren't the only ones. But it had been worth it.
"We'll be able to get underway in less than ten hours." She nodded. Suddenly she felt tired. It had been thirty-six hours.
"I think I'll go get some rest." He simply nodded.
Damn Minbari beds. How anyone could sleep on the blasted inventions was something she couldn't fathom, and she had tried. Tried for two hours, in fact. Her back throbbed.
"Good for the back he says." She muttered to herself as she tried to find a tolerable position.
Their victory had been decisive. Days before the battle, they had managed to secure the help of another race of First Ones, discovered with Lorien's help, and had succesfully contacted the aliens at Sigma 957 obtaining their help as well. Again with his help.
Then they had received reports which indicated that the Vorlons had decided to head for Earth, reports which coincided with their newfound readiness. They had struck, driven off the Vorlons, and saved Earth and the rest of the galaxy. For a time, that is.
And now they were stuck here, knee-deep in glory.
She sat up. Damn beds. Two hours and she still hadn't been able to sleep, and that after being up for thirty-six hours. Thirty-six hours in which they had faced the end of their universe.
She lay back down, but sleep didn't come.
They got back to Babylon 5 four days later.
Celebrations were already underway, but somehow, those who had led the effort did not much have the heart for them.
And so it was that Susan Ivanova came to face another hour of the wolf alone in her quarters that same night. So much for glory.
She had repeated her father's ritual several times when she noticed the tears falling down her face.
Come morning, the wolf had settled in.