Author: Medie
Recipient: miriel
Rating: R
Fandoms: Babylon 5/Stargate: SG1
Summary: god help you if you find anything out here, the reports for that multiply like minbari at a prayer service to which there is no end
An American astronaut beyond the rim.
It's not every day an EarthForce captain gets to make such a stunning discovery, but for Susan, not so much. Four years on Babylon 5 have left their mark on her and, already a legend to her crew, her reaction to the unconscious woman's recovery - a raised brow - merely adds to the whispers.
'This keeps up, I can declare myself Tsarina of all Russia and no one will even blink,' she observes dryly, imagining she doesn't hear Talia's soft laugh, or see Marcus's quick merry grin in her mind.
It's typically Russian to walk with such ghosts so she squares her shoulders, straightens her spine, and commands her medical officer, "tell me when she's awake," in an authoritative voice she usually reserves for things such as ordering crewmen into Hell. She's overcompensating just a little and she turns on her heel, pretending not to hear the doctor's dry chuckle. It's too much like Stephen's for coincidence, yet more proof for her theory that irreverence for one's commanding officer is most likely a required course in medical school.
She absolutely does not flee medlab because of it.
The side of exploration no one ever shows in those adventure vids is the mountain of paperwork the job involves. It makes sense, Susan knows, they'd never be able to sucker enough people into the job if they knew ahead of time just how much of it was spent filling out reports. Reports, it should be observed, that usually say, "Today we saw rocks." and always have to be filled out in triplicate and double filed. God help you if you actually find something out here, the reports for *that* seem to multiply like Minbari at a prayer service to which there is no end.
EarthForce is lucky she's too far out for desertion, the idea of tucking away in a quiet corner of Down Below is getting more attractive by the second. Thugs, telepaths, mind-sucking aliens and all, anything to escape the *endless* reports.
With their guest still unconscious and little detail available, Susan holds off on any formal reports. The second they see them, IPX and its cronies will have their senate puppets on Gold Channel screaming to get the ship recalled and she's in no mood to throw anyone to those wolves.
Least of all their mystery woman.Colonel Samantha Carter wakes neatly, without fanfare, and that is the easy part.
Susan's in bed when the call comes through but she's not sleeping; sleep is a rare animal these days. A captain's responsibilities don't allow for hours of unconsciousness or, at least, hers don't seem to. Her ghosts again, perhaps. She's been tempted to call John more than once but, somehow, she just hasn't gotten around to it. The President has a lot on his mind and, right now, she's not sure she can handle sharing that.
But, since she's not sleeping and not talking to friends, she throws back the sheets and exchanges lingerie for uniform. Most of the crew is asleep or on downtime with the Gamma shift and she passes unimpeded through the near-empty corridors. It's something she almost regrets, her only company on her short journey to medlab are the ghosts which haunt her steps and there's nothing to distract her from them.
They keep her company all the way, withdrawing with the first words out of the chief medical officer's mouth. Doctor O'Hare's a bright, personable Irishwoman with a quick wit, a quicker tongue, and a whole lot of personality, which is waiting for her when she walks in the door.
"You'll never believe this one, Captain," she tosses off, handing over the report with eyes full of excitement. "She's all right, a little dehydrated but all right. Better than that, *look* at those test results!" The next words to come out of her mouth are a torrent of excited scientific babble that means next nothing to Susan but will make some sense when she digests the report. As it is, she hears all of it, understands half, and remembers none when she rounds the corner to meet Sam Carter's inquisitive blue eyes.
The familiarity in their depths stops her cold. Her ghosts have combined and been reborn, a curious mix of Talia and Marcus look out from a stranger's face and she's paralyzed. Control and composure are hard won but Susan Ivanova is accustomed to hard fights and she clasps her hands tight behind her back, stands ramrod straight to hold on to both with everything she has. "Colonel Carter? I'm Captain Susan Ivanova," the words still sound strange on her tongue, she's not sure she'll ever adjust. "You're safe, you're aboard the EarthForce vessel Titans." She permits a smile, sees the wariness in the other woman's eyes, wanting to put her at ease. "Of course, you know what my next question is going to be."
The lightly spoken comment makes Carter laugh as she pushes her hair back out of her eyes. "How did I get here? Believe me, Captain Ivanova, I wish I knew." Her hands don't still when they drop to her lap, picking busily at the blanket. "There was a battle, I was caught outside, I blacked out and when I wake up, it's over a century later. The worst part? Things like this happen to me all the time."
The rueful tone is familiar, one she's heard from her own lips, and Susan's polite smile turns into a genuine grin. "I wish I could say I don't understand what you mean..." She trails off, tilts her head, and waves a hand to the side in a 'what're you gonna do?' gesture.
Sam laughs and nods. "But you do, intimately."
The minute she's released from the med lab, Sam attacks the question of how she got where they found her with a vengeance. She pours over the sensor logs, the crew reports, the scans the crew runs again at her request. She's centuries behind them or she should be, she's not. She's impressing the crew with her unusual intelligence, her ability to understand their technology, not only understand but easily utilize. She thinks fast on her feet, examining what little concrete evidence they have managed to gather from every possible angle. In the process, she reveals subtle hints of the SGC, which she's spoken of in casual reference. Whatever this SGC is, it's allowed a woman from the 21st century to understand the science that's centuries ahead of her own without fail even when it's being thrown at her at breakneck speed.
Sam's lack of an explanation on her arrival can't be blamed on her stupidity, more likely there are no answers to find.
"Yeah, I got nothing," sliding onto a chair across from Susan, Sam looks smart in an EarthForce jumpsuit as she makes the aggravated admission. "No clear readings, no apparent spatial anomalies, *nothing* to explain how I got here." She pushes a report across the table, detailing the particulars in a quick summary that clearly highlights her frustration. The question is the source of that frustration, Susan's not sure if it's because she can't find a way home or just that she can't find an answer period. Sam is not a woman who appreciates a puzzle left unsolved.
"I thought you liked a challenge," Susan says around a mouthful of breakfast. "This isn't exactly blowing up a star," she teases with a quick and wicked grin. Sam's living to regret the day she shared that little tidbit. "Maybe this isn't enough of a challenge for you, think you might be bored by it?"
Sam makes a face, takes the cup of coffee a young crew member brings her. "I should never have told you about that," she complains, without any real annoyance. "I'm still a little amazed that I *did*."
The thoughtful expression on her face is one Susan well understands. She's been understanding a lot of the things Sam's been saying, the ease between them amazing her. But, maybe, it shouldn't. "It's been a long time since I talked with anyone like this." Longer than she's comfortable admitting, especially to herself. She hasn't *really* relaxed like this since Talia, couldn't let herself even begin to with Marcus. "Figures," the laugh bubbles out of her, "it takes you jumping two centuries and a whole new universe before I let it happen."
Sam smiles and ducks her head, blows on her coffee with pursed lips. It's an endearing gesture, one Susan pays more attention to than its worth. "I think I'm going to have to take that as the best compliment I've gotten in years."
Her smile fades into a comfortable silence as Susan takes in the whole of her. It's a slow examination, eyes searching and lingering over every detail. "You should," she says finally, seriously, "it's the best one I've given in years."
It's the only one but she keeps that to herself.
When Sam isn't trying to figure out what happened (and if she can reverse it) they're supposed to be conducting a series of debriefings. Officially, they're interviews to give Susan a chance to gather Intel. If Sam really is from another reality, another time, then there's a wealth of knowledge to be had.
Unfortunately for EarthForce, that's not what the interviews have become. They're conversations now, discussions of two women and two worlds. Sam's shared stories of Teal'c, Jack, Daniel, Jonas...and Janet, in turn, Susan's shared stories of Jeff, John, Michael, Marcus, and Talia. So many stories over so many conversations, and it's been so very long since she's talked like this with anyone.
She's thought it so many times since Sam came aboard and she thinks it again, it hasn't been like this since Talia.
It brings a tinge of guilt every time, like she's betraying something sacred and maybe she is. Maybe she's supposed to, maybe it's how she lets go of her ghosts which is something she shares with Sam late in the night.
"Sometimes, I wonder if she was ever really there," she admits, refilling Sam's glass, sitting back and staring into her own. It offers no answers, no explanations but she stares as if she might find them hidden in the clear liquid's unseen depths. "If any of it was real or if it was all a Psi Corps manipulation. I wonder for a while, I realize I don't want an answer to that question." She holds up the glass in salute, who she's toasting is another question to which Susan doesn't want an answer. "If I get an answer, I think I might not like it." She pauses, thinks a moment then admits the truth, "I know I wouldn't."
Sam looks sympathetic, reaches out to cover Susan's free hand with one of her own. The touch is unexpected and unusually stimulating. The worst of it is the fact she can't remember the last time someone touched her like this. It's lonely at the top, the quipped thought comes with Marcus's accent and she bubbles out a faintly hysterical laugh.
"I'm just tired...exhausted." she confesses.
"I can see why you would be," Sam answers, smiles sad and warm all at once. "Carrying this all this time? Even God gets tired sooner or later." She twines her fingers together with Susan's, squeezes. "It was real, Susan," she decides quietly, ending the internal debate.
Talia that Susan sees in her eyes if only just a little when she speaks but it's Sam that Susan kisses.
She's forgotten what this feels like, waking up to another warm body in the night. The sensation of being wrapped up in an embrace, pressed up against another warm body is unfamiliar. She's pleasantly sore, comfortable in an uncomfortable way, and it's been so long since she was here in this moment that she's unwilling to examine it too closely.
Sam's asleep, relaxed and still in her rest, and she suspects the same of her as well. She doesn't want to look too closely beyond what's happening between them yet, wants to take it as it is and let it unfold. They think too much, the both of them, and it's an unspoken agreement. They don't want to ruin this by over thinking it, it's not about Janet and it's not about Talia. Their ghosts remain insubstantial but they are present nonetheless, silently presiding over the night. Acknowledgement of their presence is as deep as Susan is willing to go. The subject of Talia is never one that's easily addressed and she pushes it off. Not tonight, not now.
To tune out the unspoken whispers, Susan narrows her attention down to focus on the woman sleeping in her arms. Naked; Sam is beautiful, long limbed and holding her, she knows she's seduced her very own contradiction in terms. Sam has developed a reputation in the crew as a scientist, an intellectual, but the body beneath her hands is a soldier's. Susan tongues a scar, a line across one shoulder, and slides a hand around to squeeze the plumpness of one breast. Sam's body tells the story of her life and the story of a soldier's fight. She's a woman who's never shied from duty in the face of her own fear, Susan isn't surprised. She has little tolerance for cowards and is in no hurry to take one into her bed.
In light sleep, Sam begins to respond and it's tantalizing. Her body shifts at a leisurely, comfortable pace. Her legs untangle and stretch out to allow her to turn, rolling close and slide an arm across Susan's waist. She takes her time in waking, eyes opening and lips stretching into a smile in the dim light. She's beautiful and, feeling uncharacteristically mellow, Susan says as much before reintroducing her lips to Sam's. The kisses they trade are slow, Susan's favorite. This kind of action shares more truth than a thousand words could ever tell.
Sam slides closer still, one long leg hooking around hers and rubbing. "You should sleep," she murmurs when they part for air. "I'm just the unexpected house guest...." She grins, mischief sparking in her eyes. "You actually have to work for a living or, at least, make it look good."
That earns her a dramatic roll of Susan's eyes. "Funny, very funny, you're..." she shrugs one shoulder, grinning despite herself.
"Funny." Sam finishes with her, laughing. "Yes, I am, a barrel of laughs all the time, nonstop. It's why I'm here don't you know. The universe decided you weren't laughing or having sex nearly enough so here I am to save the day." She leans in and Susan shivers when her breath whispers over her skin. "How am I doing so far?"
She clears her throat, trying to remember quite exactly how to speak because Sam's hands are on the move and pick very interesting places to visit. "Oh, I'd say you're doing pretty good actually. Pretty damn good." She moans, maybe growls, when Sam's fingers slide inside in search of just the right spot. From Susan's perspective, Sam's pretty damn perfect which seems to be a common problem from what she's heard.
Though, as reputations go, Susan's pretty sure this isn't how Sam gained hers.
She hopes.
Sam knows about Talia, knows what the Psi Corps did to her, knows about a lot of the things EarthGov would really rather not get out. Sam knows why she can't go back to Earth if she can't get home, if she's stuck here that's the last place she can go. Even if the quarantine was not in effect (and Susan sees the flare of determination in Sam's eyes when that comes up), she couldn't go back, wouldn't go back. They talk around that problem occasionally, as time passes and she still hasn't reported Sam's recovery, never quite addressing it but knowing they will have to. The day's coming when they'll have to go back for one reason or another, what to do about Sam is a conversation had frequently.
Susan's not certain about Babylon 5 as a safe zone, John might vouch for Lochley but she still doesn't trust her, she knows that Mars or Minbar are the best choices. Mars has Michael and for her, Garibaldi will still move mountains but she's not ready to ask him to do that yet.
So when the conversation arises, she's already had plenty of time to think about what to do.
"I'm not going home," Sam sounds matter-of-fact but Susan sees the loss in her eyes. This won't kill her but it's coming damn too close for comfort, a description that for her is all too accurate. It comes up over dinner a month after her arrival, they've moved on from the system where they found her. There are no answers left there to find and no sign that the phenomenon will ever naturally reverse itself. "We both know it, Susan."
They do. This the first time they've discussed it openly but they both knew. Perhaps from the first moment in medlab, they knew. The question was never if she would get home but why she wouldn't. Susan wishes Sam had a choice in the matter but she's not truly regretful either.
"I know," Susan forgets dinner, meets her gaze and nods once. "We need to falsify an identity for you." This she can ask Michael for, already has, and she expects the Rangers to drop it off any day. "I've got a friend working on it for you and Delenn has already said you'd be more than welcome on Minbar and - "
"I'd like to stay here," Sam interjects quickly, smiling. "For now at least, if I can. Civilian consultant or whatever it is that fits the identity your friend dreams up."
It's a relief to hear the words though she doubted she'd hear otherwise, Susan doesn't look too closely at why. "I think my engineering staff would riot if I tried to leave you anywhere that isn't here." It's true. Sam's proven adept at making herself useful around Titans engineering and science departments, she's becoming the ship's best kept open secret. She wants to laugh, her mouth even forms the action but it's the quiet confession of, "Truth is, I'd join them."
"You can't riot against yourself," Sam answers but her light-hearted words don't quite match the look in her eye.
"I can sure as hell try," she smarts back. This isn't a happy ending, she's not crazy enough to believe that. Sam will still try to get home, she'll still be secretly hoping Sam fails, and they'll both be lying their asses off to anyone that moves.
Susan doesn't need to go back to Babylon 5 and its ghosts, right now it's like she never actually left.
No one questions it when Susan quietly erases her logs for the day they found Sam and covers up the other evidence. It should be harder than this, maybe it would be for someone else. She doesn't so much as flinch, she merely sits down and begins her report.
Today we saw rocks...