The Paths Not Taken
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//Private Thoughts or mental argument - when one person is trying to decide something.//
~Emphasis marks~
~~~~ scene change - small (or POV change)
******** scene change - large (or POV change)
The Day of Terror - Part Two
("Look, darlin', if you're going to *fix* something, you have to know how it was broken in the first place!" - Gok, during discussion at thestation on why someone as nice as Zack would have ever been a drinker in the first place.)
(2nd note: I don't know how old Zack is. I used an approximation of Jeff Conaway's age to figure the years. It seems to have worked . . . was anyone else out there surprised to find out he's a grandfather?!? I was! He must eat a preservative for breakfast every day or something . . .)
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Susan watched them glumly file out, a nervous babble of voices starting just as the door sealed behind them. "So, what do you think?" She asked Zack.
"That I was a fool for agreeing to do this AGAIN!" Lyta muttered crossly.
Zack bit his lip momentarily while handing the ranger - the real ranger - her pike back. "Thank you Lisa, I hope you weren't too bored. Those are the notes you've made?"
"Yes. You've got double escort duty before breakfast tomorrow. It's all in there." She handed the pad to Zack then turned back to Lyta. "I'm sorry I couldn't get over to you faster."
"Well, at least you got that SOB nailed before he could do it a third time. Bastard. Thanks for agreeing, Lisa, I couldn't have made it through today without a friend right there."
"Never a problem, firehead." She smiled wanly at Lyta then turned back to Zack. "Bored, not really, but the next weapons-training session will be interesting when they see me with the usual instructors. Some of the mild droolers will have plenty of bumps to remember me by when I get finished with them." She paused. "But I must admit the looks of horror a few minutes ago will be hard to beat. Until later, Mr. Allan, Captain, Lyta." She bowed to them all, and departed.
Susan turned back to Zack. "I'll call you in about an hour. You can make the reser- uh - Lyta, would you rather eat in or out tonight? Security's training budget is covering the cost, since we'll be grading, it counts as business, same as the rest of today."
Lyta shifted her weight a few times, still quite uncomfortable from the searches. "In. I don't want to be around any more people, not today. I just don't."
Zack nodded, quite understanding. He'd hated to have to hold her to the second session, but he'd long since decided to never ever put her through anything like this again. He was going to spend as long as it took to fully apologize, despite the fact that it wasn't his idea in the first place. "I'll bring food."
"Include some purdy's, will you please?" The expensive-to-import chocolates were a favorite, if rare, treat of both women. Susan took a stack of tests in one arm and Lyta in the other and led her out of the classroom, taking a roundabout - but almost empty of people - route back to her own quarters. Lyta had time for a long, hot shower (water was infinitely better at removing mental fingerprints than sonics, plus it felt so much nicer) while the captain went out briefly again, picking up a pre-ordered package of almond oil from a store in the Zocalo. She was going to do all the pampering ideas she could think of for Lyta for tonight. This was just the first one.
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Susan made her put on a robe, sat her down on the bed, opened the oil, and gave her a neckrub to try to relax away Lyta's nervous twitches. She talked about totally unrelated events, Lyta slowly untensing beneath her friend's concerned hands. After a small disaster with a hired not-so-professional masseur just after the last ‘Day of Terror’, the only way Susan could get a terrified Lyta to calm again was to promise to never let him - or anyone else in his field - touch her again. So the Captain did today’s relaxing herself. Susan kept her blocks up tightly so that nothing leaked out during the skin contact. There probably was enough stuff going through Lyta's head without some untrained latent adding to the pile of thoughts. Lyta had never scanned Susan, and Susan had never made any attempts to scan Lyta. Mutual trust, despite what had happened to the last telepath Susan became close friends with. Susan might like female lovers just as much as male, but she hadn't made any serious advances on Lyta, regardless of her looks. She just wasn't interested in anything beyond a casual friendship (and trustworthy alliance). Besides, what Susan had seen of Lyta's preferences, it was nothing-at-all for the redhead, from some deep emotional scarring that probably could never be removed. It might have something to do with her time in a Psi Corps prison (the stories about those places could give you nightmares) before she escaped and returned to B5 to warn of the spy, or some other reason or reasons, but Susan knew better than to ask her why she'd never taken a lover during all her time on B5. It wasn't like Susan had gotten to home base since arriving, either.
She had no idea how hard it must have been not to bolt, being handled and bruised like that . . . ugh. Susan had started (and won) more than a few barfights over a comment about her appearance, or an unwelcome hand. It got to the point where she didn't drink in public anymore. Although the average drunk was usually ruder than a security recruit, Men were men were pigs.
//Except Marcus . . . // she thought with grief, hands tightening into fists.
Lyta yelped.
"Sorry." She pulled her hands off of Lyta's neck, shifting away from her to sit back in her chair.
Lyta sighed and closed the robe off tighter. "When will Zack arrive?"
"I linked to him a few mi- there's the door. Speak of the devil. Come!"
They heard him come him and then pause as he saw the closed door into the bedroom area, with the women behind it. "Everyone decent?" He asked, setting his parcels down with a collection of soft thunks onto the counter.
Susan glanced at Lyta, who nodded. "Come in, Zack, we're hungry."
"I'm not." Lyta said remorsely as he carried in enough supper for all three.
"Yes, you are. Here, start with dessert." Susan located the chocolates, handing her the whole box. "Turn around again, you're still a bundle of knots."
Zack shuffled the papers, putting them aside. "We'll do the dull part after dinner. I'll get yours for you." He filled a plate and brought it to Lyta, who had closed her eyes and finally started to relax from the neckrub. She didn't seen to notice him, but Susan was sure eyeing the plate he held.
"You willing to switch? I mean, if you're not hungry, I'll let the captain here munch this and I - uh - I can do that for you." Zack paused, visibly uncertain about how to start this. He wanted to make Lyta feel better, but wasn't sure how to do it.
Susan was either greedy or able to read his emotions, because she nudged Lyta his way, taking the food and digging in. "Mmm. Not bad. But the stuff Micheal's planning on making for you tomorrow night will probably knock your socks off. Ever had his cooking? Isn't it great? I'm tempted to drop in on you two."
Zack had sat down on the bed next to Lyta, who turned so her back was in easy reach. He had lifted her damp hair off of her shoulders before stopping and wondering what to do with it, to keep it from getting oily or wet. Susan read his expression, sighed in exasperation, and showed him how how to turn it up so the hair would stay put. "Zack, you need more practice at this. Here, use the oil to keep her skin from getting irritated. No! On your hands, THEN on her back! Gads. Be gentle. She'll let you know if you're doing it too hard."
A few minutes later, Lyta was actually smiling a little. "I volunteer for any practice you want, Zack." She whispered, mostly to herself.
Zack had to grin at that, delighted. He was carefully using his thumbs at the base of her skull, wary of hurting the tender muscles. He'd done a few massages on women before, just none for the past few years, and none with such nice long hair. A few minutes later, he had Lyta lay down on the bed, on her stomach. Under the chaperone's discreet attention, he gently shifted down her borrowed robe to waist level, uncovering several fresh large bruises across her back. //There's some failing grades right there! Bastards indeed,// he thought with a sudden flash of anger mixing with his protective mood.
He pulled out a regen pack //I seem to be using a lot of these on you, Lyta.// and repaired the dark marks. He then added more massage oil, and continued rubbing her shoulders in between bites off of his own plate, slowly getting all of her back covered but going gently over where she had been bruised, in case she was still tender. Zack waited until he sensed the tired teep had fallen asleep before he joined Susan in marking the written tests one handed, continuing to massage her back with the free hand. He soon was including her arms and hands as well.
When the exams were half-finished, Susan finally spoke up. He was behaving himself with Lyta, but she couldn't resist a jab anyway. "You realize she dozed off over two hours ago."
"I know. No need for her to wake up still sore, right?" He glanced at Lyta's face as she slept, calm and relaxed. A look he wished he could see her wearing more.
"Okay, but I suggest including the legs and feet before you tenderize her back completely." Susan chuckled as he took her suggestion seriously, covering up her top half again, and shifting down to pick up the closest foot. "Zack, she'll be flattered, but I wasn't serious," she smiled wryly at him.
"I was." He returned her gaze levelly.
//Wait a minute . . .// Susan realized, //I'm guessing you like her . . . you've told me you don't like telepaths, 'just the one'. Lyta? Could it be, Zack? I know enough of your past to tell you've been burned somehow by a former love, do you want to try again? I can picture you two as a couple, very sweet, but she's going to have many rough times ahead. What happens when your paths must separate? Can you keep her safe then? Will you be able to forgive her for the past?// She blinked and returned her attention to grading.
While finishing the last half of the exams, Susan kept watching him out of the corner of her eye as he gently, attentively removed every major and minor muscle spasm from Lyta's feet and calves. He was politely avoiding her upper thighs, just like he'd not dropped further down from her lower back or moved to her front. That had been the masseur’s mistake. Heck, Susan was a bit jealous of the attention Zack was paying to Lyta, even if most of his mental energies seemed focused on the tests. //Can you lead her when she needs guidance, let her lead herself when she needs that?// Several minutes later, she did an ackward scan, trying to know his emotions. What she learned surprised her, considering Zack's usual cantankerous nature. Her voice was low, not quite willing to say it out loud. "How long have you been in love with her, Zack?"
He froze, his eyes closing as he let Lyta's leg back down to the bed. He didn't move for several very long moments.
"Zack?"
" . . . forever . . . " He whispered hoarsely.
//Why haven't I noticed the obvious? Have I been so wrapped up in my own grief, I couldn't see? Or have they both hidden the secret so well they don't know themselves? Lyta has never let her shields down, and she'd never have scanned Zack. Lyta had never (until the night just after her return from Mars) let it show that she even liked anyone. Could 'he' be Zack? Maybe. And Zack had to be good at keeping on a mask, he'd never have survived his profession otherwise.//
//If I can talk to Lyta when she wakes up - oh don't you dare play cupid here, this place tends to kill far too many people if they start to care - or if they stop caring.// Susan shook her head, suggesting they let her sleep. The plan had been for Zack and Lyta to come back in the morning anyway, go over the practical test scores with her once she'd had more time to be objective. Ivanova said she'd finish marking the last few written tests herself.
He nodded, moving to leave.
"Zack!" Ivanova called, standing so suddenly she nearly tipped over her chair.
He paused and looked back, unreadable.
"Let her know, out loud. She'd never look for herself, she hurts too much from what the Corps has done to her to ever look into anyone unless ordered to. You're normal - you couldn't hurt her in the same way. But she will never find the courage to try a relationship unless you make the first move."
He turned and left for his own rooms, leaving Ivanova standing there, frustrated.
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//I have told her, told her it all, but I was too stupid to bother to see if she could hear me. I just can't try again, I just can't. Damned vorlon programming had taken her from me . . . I can't fight that kind of power, I've tried. Not alone, I'd never even be able to dent it.// Zack suddenly had the horrible feeling he was going to lose her again to the rogues, by sheer numbers, by Psi-powers, by his own stupid prejudiced remarks, he was going to lose her when he'd never even been able to GET her.
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Back in her quarters, Susan sighed, looking at her guest. "Why the hell can't ~I~ find a guy who'll give ~me~ a four hour massage?" She sat back down, finishing the marking, then put the papers away neatly. She moved back to the bed, pulling back the covers on the empty side. "Roll over," she commanded the unconscious Lyta while placing a hand on her shoulder and a hand on her hip then shoving until Lyta was moved onto the sheet. Susan covered her up, first with the robe then with the blankets. She changed into a nightgown and climbed in beside her, soon falling asleep as well.
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In contrast, the Chief didn't sleep very well at all that night, vivid dreams of Lyta and the scent of almonds kept waking him, but still wishing the dreams, at least in part, would come true. //She is so very sweet, and so incredibly beautiful . . . what could I ever offer to her? A life where I'll risk my own death just doing my job every day? A life in a small room in red sector, no air, no sunshine, no children? Her talents are very deeply rooted - any babies she'd have would be taken away by the Corps to be raised the moment they showed the slightest flicker of Psi, and they'd be certain to have the genes for telepathy. Especially with what the Vorlons had done to her - when she'd returned as Kosh's aide, the repair work done to her must have been on a genetic level to have fixed the inherited problems, right?//
Zack wanted to at least try to start a family again, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing any more children to the Corps, not after what they'd done to Mariah.
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Mariah. Kind, passionate, gentle Mariah. Eyes like emeralds, they'd been children playing at adult games. They got caught when she found out she was pregnant. She was years underage, and so was he. She refused to have the baby transferred out for adoption. Named the baby Jesse, said he looked like his dad. Zack always thought Jesse looked like her, especially when Jess was growing older. They'd been planning on getting married as soon as they were both 21 and could legally marry. He'd just enlisted in Earthforce. It was a good job. She'd been pregnant again when it happened. The months of headaches, blackouts, the sudden clutching her hands to her face and screaming. She had been a latent telepath. She had just become an active, triggered by the hormones from her pregnancy. The baby was already becoming active, too, not even born yet.~~~~That's when Zack knew he'd always hate Psi Cops, the Corps. He could still hear Mariah's pleading that she hadn't known, it wasn't her fault, don't let them take her . . . Anyone under 16 years old, or in Mariah's case, pregnant, couldn't be put on sleepers or in jail. They were forced into Corps Custody. Sleepers weren't safe for children, it damaged their developing minds.
She had ran. She hadn't even made it out of the city before she was located and killed by the Psi Cops. 'They' said she'd resisted. 'They' said that mundanes, such as he, needed to be protected against rogues, such as she was. Had been. 'They' said it was a terrible loss, not being able to save the unborn telepath in time. It was rare to find one powerful enough to be active so young . . .
'They' said it was for the best, to control teeps, use them only as needed. Zack had been stupid enough to believe what 'They' said. He'd vowed to never have anything to do with telepaths after that. For over two decades, he'd kept his promise to himself, refusing to have anything to do with telepaths. He used the bottle as one escape route. His second was to get transferred far away, taking little Jesse and heading for a distant world, with few people around and no Psi Cops. Just a few hundred settlers and a few dozen fellow soldiers. Pilots, most of them, like he had been. Try to rebuild. It helped, watching his baby slowly growing up. Jesse started school there, doing well despite waking up screaming from nightmares almost every night. It was 2231, Zack was still very green as a fighter, and there had been some news trickling in for the past few months that a race called the Dilgar had been harassing some nearby non-aligned worlds.
Zack had been on a standard Starfury patrol, circling the planet and the domes of the colony itself. He and a buddy had been doing mock buzzes of the main dome, taking some fun in the simple joy of flight, and then the Dilgar had come.
They had fought them back as best they could, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The Dilgar came, destroyed everything, decided it wasn't worth keeping and had left. It took Earthforce three days to send reinforcements. Zack had already found the remains of the school after just a few endless hours. They had no way to tell which body was which, the rough medical facilities were too busy trying to save the injured to worry about confirming the identity of charred little bodies. Zack had helped dig the mass grave, despite his broken arm. He couldn't do anymore. Afterwards, the colony was disbanded and the few survivors were shipped back to earth. Zack had stayed in earthforce only because it gave him an excuse to kill the Dilgar. And he did, many times during the next year, until his hospitalization. Had to watch a lot of old friends and new friends dying. More children's bodies were held in his arms. The worst had been that little girl, right near the end of the War.
Kiz'Parah. A Narn colony that had time to send a brief distress call before the signal was jammed. Earthforce got there 4 days later, on orders to retrieve any survivors the killing-drones might have missed, and to level the enemy troops, ensuring the planet would be rendered uninhabitable for Dilgar forces. He'd pulled her out of the arms of an extremely dead - also decapitated - female after noticing she was still moving slightly, put a fresh breather on her. She was very dehydrated, starving, and almost catatonic, but was the only survivor they found after landing on the colony. Wasn't able to speak a single word, not even to scream. His company had helped take care of her in their emergency bunker, huddled down for almost a week while waiting for the enemy to stop barraging the former city above them with weapons-fire so that they could return to the surface and trigger the bombs they'd set up to kill every Dilgar on the planet. She refused to let anyone pry her from Zack. His was the first living face she'd seen in days, and her grip on his uniform never faded once, even as she slept. They had wondered for a day how rare it was for a Narn to have brown eyes instead of red, before they managed to get the medical scanner repaired and realized she was human. It then took several cleanings to get the dirt, blood, gore and grime off her enough to see what she looked like. She was maybe 6 or 7 years old. Strawberry blonde hair. Big brown eyes that didn’t really see any of them. Little Jane Doe would sit motionless for hours, head sideways against his chest, listening to his heart beating. It was the same position she'd been in when they found her. Listening for life in what probably had been her mother, but the body was too damaged to tell species from the brief glance he'd gotten amidst the gunfire. When the firing stopped enough for the troops to make a break for the surface, towards a relief shuttle that was coming down, the Dilgar had a surprise waiting. The concussion had killed the man beside him before his body hit the dirt, and cracked Jane's breather. They had maybe 200 more meters to get to the shuttle, and only a few minutes before the pilot gave them all up for dead and left. Zack put his own breather onto her face, and ran. It ruptured half his lungs and he nearly drowned in his own blood from the sprint, but he made it to the shuttle, along with 8 others. His last glimpse of the girl had been when the medics pulled her out of his grasp. She was trying to look at him, trying to hang on, semi-conscious and bleeding from her nose and her ears as he passed out.
He couldn't talk for weeks afterwards, the damage to his throat and lungs was too severe. His voice never really healed, was still raspy to this day. When he could finally find out Jane's fate, it was months later. The hospital had done a DNA scan to try to find out who she was, her real name. No matches were found, but there had been the DNA codes for telepathy. It was enough for the doctors to call the Corps for pickup and stop caring about her after that. It was enough for them to come snatch Jane Doe away after a few hours, before she could even regain consciousness, if she ever did. The brain damage seemed quite severe. Zack tried to contact the Corps, find out how badly she was hurt, she hadn't been in earthforce medical custody long enough for a full workup. The Corps' reply had been a simple text message: "No such person found in databank. Please crosscheck with Earth Central for death certification."
They wouldn't let him work afterwards. He was on forced medical leave before getting a discharge. He wandered right back into the bottle and stayed there for a long time.
Then he'd come to Babylon 5. He'd sobered up. He'd had to work with a telepath, Talia Winters. Sometimes protect her, sometimes talk to her. Zack had begun to realise 'They' were wrong. Telepaths weren't tools. Telepaths were People!
Then why was he so nervous around Lyta? It wasn't youthful hormones, and it wasn't inexperience with physical sex. It was the way her eyes would melt him into a puddle. It was the way she walked, something he liked to watch with every glance he could steal and hope she didn't catch where his eyes were looking on her body. It was her smile, her trust in him for some reason he didn't understand. It was intimacy, or rather his discomfort with intimacy - he could spell it, sure, but never could get it anymore. It was the fact that he'd never let anyone else close to his heart, never wanted to, but then Lyta walked (was wheeled in on a stretcher) into his life and his heart cracked it's locks and opened up, without even trying. Now if he could only let her know . . . She'd done so much to help the Alliance, help security, help everyone, and he couldn't untie his tongue long enough to say 'thank you'. Would she ever hurt anyone? No. Would anyone ever hurt her? It had already happened . . .
//Staring at the ceiling in the dark at 5 a.m. won't help you. Any more than it did at 3 a.m.//
Zack sighed, and wondered why he couldn't wash away the scent of almonds. //Probably for the same reason you can still feel her skin under your hands, it's been filed in your brain under 'H' for heavenly.//
He managed to doze off again, to a dream filled with Lyta's soft brown eyes watching him as he kissed her all over, taking off her clothes, revealing her beauty while covering it with his mouth, only to have her say, "I don't want you, mundane, I want HIM!" and Zack looked over to see Byron standing beside the bed, looking at them scornfully.
Zack sat bolt upright, awake and terrified, then realised it was another nightmare. //Damn!// He shuddered, deciding this last one was just too much, and got out of bed. //I just won't sleep tonight.//
He pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers and began exercising, trying to clear his mind of erotic thoughts by concentrating on security regulations until it was time to face the universe again.
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Eight more recruits were failed that week, leaving 15 passing. Anton Christov moved into first place in scoring. . . although Anton's wife wondered what the heck had gotten into him, being so romantic after such a long day, she knew better than to ask precisely what had gone on. But the fact that nearly every one of his classmates got quietly, seriously drunk that night made more than a few eyebrows go up . . .
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