Once the rains had subsided, and the chill of the humidity had worn off a little with the return of the sun for the remainder of the day, Susan had re-emerged from her shelter. She was dressed for taking a jog, and still not finding John (they had a rematch, after all!), the commander took off down the beach on her own to get out a little of her frustrations, aggrevations, and to get her thoughts straight. Where in the hell was he, and how did he manage to get back? Did he have to convince anyone, and most importantly-- why did he leave a bunch of civilians behind to fend for themselves? That last bit was really the kicker, and she adamantly refused to allow herself to be even the slightest bit pleased that he had returned. Even if they could fend for themselves 'back there', there was important geographic intel to be gained, and he was the information gatherer while she was the de facto tactician. As good as the Ranger was, in that area, she was better
( ... )
Marcus was in the process of carefully lighting the candles, using a long piece of damp bark as a taper.
The glow lit Susan's auburn hair as she came into view and he moved the tall candles to sit in the centre of the 'table'.
The warmth of the fire that burned safely away from their tents warmed one side, but it was the smile he could see in her eyes that warmed him more.
"You--" She was reeling... and the only way she knew, really, to rouse herself was to shift gears... "What are you doing back?"
He remained silent, it was not his time to talk, yet.
"How did you get back? And-- why?"
His head canted to the side, a smile hovering on his own lips now. But he still remained silent, until her tirade of questions ceased.
"There are civilians back there that are going to need your help-- two scientists... a pregnant woman..." "Yes" he said "about that. They are in an inpenetrable ship, separated from us by another dimension of space, not unlike warp space. And" he countered, overriding her by raising his voice just a small
( ... )
There was something inherently wrong with her approach, obviously. The rise at the final 'accusation' didn't come; instead, the response was a soft, easily understandable explanation. Not even an excuse. Susan stood in her spot, in her mind frozen in place, her expression shifting from the failed attempt to have the least bit of anger or annoyance at seeing him to one of... incredulity. This was honestly a surprise... and one that completely solved, if not justified, the small mysteries. She'd known 'who'... and now, at least part of the 'why
( ... )
Marcus laughed softly as he poured her a glass of the white wine. The label was printed in Interlac, a fine vintage of wine that would only be recogniseable to someone from their time.
As he set the glass down, he reached down behind him and with a very small flourish, but an almost-air of embarressment, he presented her with the single red rose.
"The effort was a pleasure, Susan. And" he held up a hand to forstall any comments just yet. "This evening is designed just for you, I want you to realise"
He stopped, then swallowed, trying to draw some moisture into his mouth "I want to tell you how much I care for you. It was the only thing I could come up with, on short notice."
The smile on his lips hovered, almost uncertainly. He'd done everything he could to wind her up over the day, but it was a game she'd enjoyed, he could feel it, without even having to try.
Susan managed to keep her feet in her surprise, and it shifted to the curious once more as she recognized the writing on the label when Marcus picked it up to pour. Centauri-- Ooooh.. She remembered that label now. One glass of that had a kick to it, and no one could ever claim she was a 'light weight'. She'd had some, for the first time, back when Jeff thought it'd be a 'good idea' to exchange cultural... celebrations. As she'd been in attendance in an 'official' function, she didn't get quite as hammered as the others. At least not as obviously
( ... )
Marcus sipped his wine, while Susan talked. He didn't usually drink wine; not because of an intolerance, but more because the Minbari didn't. There were some ideals, like courtesy, that were too deeply ingrained on his psyche
( ... )
Too much truth, too much honesty-- the wearing of hearts on a sleeve wasn't something easy done by the displaced commander. She'd made a career of being hard and calculating; never allowing anyone to point to her and say she was anything but an excellent officer in that she never let emotion rule her decisions. Wouldn't do for anyone to think that her tactical ability was marred by 'her female side'.
For the first six months of her being acquainted with the Ranger seated opposite her, it had been just that, in her mind, that he was asking for. A chance to relax, let down her Russian reserve, and just... take a breath. At the time, even up to the moment of the station's last stand, there was no time, no chance, not to mention she really didn't want to. Susan couldn't trust that this time, it would be different.
Now?
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now"Susan looked down at her food and shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. That was a little more
( ... )
Oh, in Valen's name... why did I ever get into a drinking evening with a Russian?
Marcus glanced warily at the wine bottle, noting that they'd barely dented it, then at the empty glass in Susan's hand. "You do realise I'm on duty tomorrow, don't you? I'm supposed to be guarding the TARDIS crew."
With a little sigh, though, and a little raising of his glass "Na Zdoroveye" he said, grinning a little as Susan's eyes widened when he spoke in a flawless Russian accent, then downed the glass in one.
This is going to be painful, come morning... he reminded himself. But so worth it to see Susan happy.
Susan was impressed with the pronunciation of the Russian toast, though even more with the double-pronged comment he'd made in his own defense. He'd go glass for glass for her while putting himself on her mercy as he has to do what she'd 'asked' him to do on the morrow. Hardly fair, really, because that brought her back to Rule #1. Never drink alone. However, it did excuse her from any of the other 'toasts' that might (or now, might not) be forthcoming from a somewhat loosened tongue. The problem was, now, that she still had to be sure that none of the other 'rules' were broken. The bottle was cracked, and had to be finished... or a little saved for the morning to stave off any hangover... unless Stephen had oxypills. Of course he had them, right? He'd always carried them in his pocket
( ... )
Marcus lifted a mouthful of food to his lips and nodded, answering before eating "Yes, apparently all that's happened is that my brain has become more active than a normal Human's" he shrugged a little and ate the mouthful of food. Swallowing, he continued "while unusual, neither of the Doctors is worried. They were more worried for poor Martha, she had some sort of fit out there. So right now, they're working out what happened to her. I can't help there, I'm afraid."
"More active than a normal human's? Marcus, you're not a 'normal human'..." Susan had a quirk to her mouth, the smile hidden as she speared the last of her salad. "But, at least you're okay. Not that I doubted it after Stephen had a look at you." Couple that with the fact that he's got the rudiments of a good wall? She's not worried-- overmuch.
Leaning back in her seat for a moment, the wine glass was again taken up, and she paused before finishing it off. Oh, that's good... And, better yet, no more toasts! Not to the host, not to love, not to the fact that birds stilll fly, the ocean still has fish to be caught, damn the Cossacks, and so on... and on... and on. Susan replaced her glass, took up her fork once more, and teased at the fish for a moment, the flakiness showing off the almost perfection of cooking. The quirk turned easily into a smile as she looked to her dinner companion. "You know.... I'm surprised. After spending so much time in space, how did you manage this? Did you have help?" Translation? It's amazing! "I can't
( ... )
"Help?" he grinned, then sipped from his wine. "You might say that, but not for the cooking. I won't tell you who helped me cover up, but let's just say that if he gets found out, there'll be more than just you to worry about."
Again, he grinned, eating a mouthful of fish before continuing. "I used to catch fish, with my brother. We'd go out for a weekend, fending for ourselves and it's something you never really forget." He shrugged, spearing a little more salad. He was obviously a thoughtful eater, taking his time and savouring the food, but more than willing to talk as he did so. "We soon learned how to wrap them in leaves and bake them on the stones around a fire. They keep their moisture, since the leaves protect them, but they still have that vaguely smoked flavour."
"What was the ship like?"Marcus paused, then thoughtfully chewed on his mouthful of salad. He was looking for the right way to describe the miracle he'd seen today
( ... )
Susan's eyes narrowed briefly. 'He'. Judging from the length of time spent on the island thus far, the Ranger, to her knowledge, only had a handful of friendships... and those, perhaps one or two would be willing to go out on a limb for him? Stephen and John. As far as Stephen was concerned, she wasn't all that sure that he had to worry about anyone else for helping Marcus. Now the Commander on the other hand... Scott was out of the running as he wasn't actually at the camp; not to mention she didn't think he had the personality to become one of Marcus' partners in crime. It took a certain type of person.
Still, the food was more than enough to keep her mind off revenge, if only for the moment, and in between the forks of fish, she refilled her own glass. Third, while Marcus was only on his first. She'd let him off the 'hook', as it were, as he had to return to the ship at one point before the morning. Susan'd never admit it, but she wasn't really looking forward to that.
The ship...
"Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area
( ... )
As Susan silently toasted him, Marcus reached for and returned the salute before draining his own glass (as tradition dictates). He smiled, setting the empty glass down before refilling first Susan's, then part-filling his own. He couldn't have been more grateful for her leniency
( ... )
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The glow lit Susan's auburn hair as she came into view and he moved the tall candles to sit in the centre of the 'table'.
The warmth of the fire that burned safely away from their tents warmed one side, but it was the smile he could see in her eyes that warmed him more.
"You--" She was reeling... and the only way she knew, really, to rouse herself was to shift gears... "What are you doing back?"
He remained silent, it was not his time to talk, yet.
"How did you get back? And-- why?"
His head canted to the side, a smile hovering on his own lips now. But he still remained silent, until her tirade of questions ceased.
"There are civilians back there that are going to need your help-- two scientists... a pregnant woman..." "Yes" he said "about that. They are in an inpenetrable ship, separated from us by another dimension of space, not unlike warp space. And" he countered, overriding her by raising his voice just a small ( ... )
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Marcus laughed softly as he poured her a glass of the white wine. The label was printed in Interlac, a fine vintage of wine that would only be recogniseable to someone from their time.
As he set the glass down, he reached down behind him and with a very small flourish, but an almost-air of embarressment, he presented her with the single red rose.
"The effort was a pleasure, Susan. And" he held up a hand to forstall any comments just yet. "This evening is designed just for you, I want you to realise"
He stopped, then swallowed, trying to draw some moisture into his mouth "I want to tell you how much I care for you. It was the only thing I could come up with, on short notice."
The smile on his lips hovered, almost uncertainly. He'd done everything he could to wind her up over the day, but it was a game she'd enjoyed, he could feel it, without even having to try.
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For the first six months of her being acquainted with the Ranger seated opposite her, it had been just that, in her mind, that he was asking for. A chance to relax, let down her Russian reserve, and just... take a breath. At the time, even up to the moment of the station's last stand, there was no time, no chance, not to mention she really didn't want to. Susan couldn't trust that this time, it would be different.
Now?
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now"Susan looked down at her food and shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. That was a little more ( ... )
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Marcus glanced warily at the wine bottle, noting that they'd barely dented it, then at the empty glass in Susan's hand. "You do realise I'm on duty tomorrow, don't you? I'm supposed to be guarding the TARDIS crew."
With a little sigh, though, and a little raising of his glass "Na Zdoroveye" he said, grinning a little as Susan's eyes widened when he spoke in a flawless Russian accent, then downed the glass in one.
This is going to be painful, come morning... he reminded himself. But so worth it to see Susan happy.
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He took a forkful of fish "how's the food?"
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Leaning back in her seat for a moment, the wine glass was again taken up, and she paused before finishing it off. Oh, that's good... And, better yet, no more toasts! Not to the host, not to love, not to the fact that birds stilll fly, the ocean still has fish to be caught, damn the Cossacks, and so on... and on... and on. Susan replaced her glass, took up her fork once more, and teased at the fish for a moment, the flakiness showing off the almost perfection of cooking. The quirk turned easily into a smile as she looked to her dinner companion. "You know.... I'm surprised. After spending so much time in space, how did you manage this? Did you have help?" Translation? It's amazing! "I can't ( ... )
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Again, he grinned, eating a mouthful of fish before continuing. "I used to catch fish, with my brother. We'd go out for a weekend, fending for ourselves and it's something you never really forget." He shrugged, spearing a little more salad. He was obviously a thoughtful eater, taking his time and savouring the food, but more than willing to talk as he did so. "We soon learned how to wrap them in leaves and bake them on the stones around a fire. They keep their moisture, since the leaves protect them, but they still have that vaguely smoked flavour."
"What was the ship like?"Marcus paused, then thoughtfully chewed on his mouthful of salad. He was looking for the right way to describe the miracle he'd seen today ( ... )
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Still, the food was more than enough to keep her mind off revenge, if only for the moment, and in between the forks of fish, she refilled her own glass. Third, while Marcus was only on his first. She'd let him off the 'hook', as it were, as he had to return to the ship at one point before the morning. Susan'd never admit it, but she wasn't really looking forward to that.
The ship...
"Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area ( ... )
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