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.
Assuming it was him.
But it had to be. She'd finished the notebook, and as far as 'profiles' went, there'd be no one else who'd even consider such a game.
After she finished the run, it was to the pool to clean up, get a quick wash before getting ready for the evening's watch by the fire. This'd be the first full day she, Stephen, and Marcus were here, and she was looking forward to sitting at the fire pit, talking, then turning in early. She'd been up since... way too early, thanks to Lt. Parker's arrival, and it didn't sit well.
Walking back to her shelter just in time to see the plume of smoke rise into the air, the dusky sky as backdrop, and her eyes widened. "Ah... hell," she swore. A towel was wrapped about her shoulders, her long hair was wet as it layed free. She was in shorts, a dark coloured t-shirt (thanks, again, to Stephen...) and she burst into a lope. Why wasn't anyone moving? Wasn't it a little obvious that there was a DAMNED FIRE? She couldn't remember Stephen mentioning having anything built out where the trio had set up-- but that didn't mean anything... Better safe than sorry, however, and she crossed the sand quickly.
Nearing the edge of the smoke, Susan coughed once, twice... fire. But she wasn't seeing any blue edges... or red... or any flame at all. Now, it was her chance at swearing for a second time, though slightly different. "What the HELL?" Didn't smell like billowy, shelter-consuming smoke and fire. It smelled like--
Lemon? Mint?
What in the hell was going on? She paused. This better not-- "Marcus?!" Even if it wasn't him, he was damned... always the first to be blamed. She'd blame him for sunspots, if she could.
Braving the cloud of ... seasoned smoke, that seemed more like steam as she restarted her path in, she paused once more... stopping in her tracks as she looked at the scene before him. Marcus, looking quite pleased... in jeans and a t-shirt? A 'table' set, though not really a table. More like a spot settled... 'plates' with grape-leaves settled (edible, most assuredly), a bottle of wine?! She was... stunned. There were few times in the Russian's life when she was absolutely speechless, and this was certainly one of them.
How? And, more importantly... though if she gave it any thought, it wouldn't have surprised her, Why?
She was right, though, in the culprit.
"You--" She was reeling... and the only way she knew, really, to rouse herself was to shift gears... "What are you doing back?" Now... how to work up a good 'mad'? She took a step forward; if she didn't, there was the chance that she'd never really get herself going. "How did you get back? And-- why?" Susan, now, was ready with a litany of questions, questions that she didn't let Marcus get an answer in-- not unless he spoke over her. "There are civilians back there that are going to need your help-- two scientists... a pregnant woman..." Pull out the helpless card!
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 amount "there are three other men who are as well trained as I, if not better. I'll be back with them by the morning, I promised both them and myself."
He gestured to the table. "Won't you sit down? Please?" He watched as she crossed her arms, but he could see that the smile wasn't leaving her eyes, most of it was an act. "I've gone to a great deal of effort to do this for you. And for once, just one time, I'd like you to relax and enjoy it."
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'.
She crossed her arms in front of herself, again, a feeble attempt at a wall that just seemed doomed to failure. She sighed and dropped her arms once again, her expression one of... measured defeat, though as she looked again at the table, she had to give it to him. The longer Susan looked, the more her face shifted until she turned her attention back to the Ranger, an honest, though still incredulous, smile lit her visage. She shook her head in disbelief again, her tones echoing her expression, blue eyes still gleaming with ... the pleasure of the scene before her. "What ever made you--" She was still stunned, and she was working to gather herself. If she couldn't be mad... Finally, she actually laughed, or rather, chuckled, and took a step towards the proffered seating area.
"Wine?" She didn't pick up the bottle, though she did at least glance at the label. Not that she'd recognize anything 250 years in the past as far as vineyards were concerned. Heck... she didn't recognize most of them in her own time. "Marcus... I'm--" Still stunned, though now, the smile was there to stay. "This must have taken a lot of planning." And, what else could she say, but, "Thank you."
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.
"You're going to have some of that too, right?"
She moved toward the settings, and paused as Marcus didn't make a move to join her. He hesitated ever so slightly before the rose was flourished. Once again, Susan was surprised. Shocked, honestly, as tropical islands weren't known for roses... were they? She faltered, her words briefly stammered; a true indication that the Ranger really had exceeded anything that she thought he could possibly do-- here, in particular!
"What-- I mean, how?" Susan took it, her smile relighting her face, her tones low as she looked to the red, partially opened flower. "They're my favourite," she began again, but stopped, looking back to Marcus, "You probably knew that, though." He had the advantage of a few years over her several months.
Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly such that her shoulders lowered visibly in the action. "I can't believe you did all this. It's just..." She shook her head again before canting it slightly to study the Ranger, the gleam still easily apparent in her blue eyes. "You still-- I mean, I fell asleep on you... Most other people, that'd be a deal-breaker right there."
Marcus grimaced a little, then shrugged. "So what? Sleeping is a natural thing, you say it as if you're ashamed you needed to sleep."
He grinned as he motioned for her to sit before he sat himself in front of the steaming fish.
"When I was in the TARDIS" he reached for the bottle and poured himself a small glass as he continued "I felt something.. amazing" a little smile of wonder crept into his eyes "Scott proposed to Ami and I'd never felt such love and devotion before."
He sighed, running his index finger lightly along the rim of his makeshift glass eyes now fixed on that same vessel. "I admit then to feeling selfish, I wanted to have some of that feeling, myself."
Now he raised his eyes to Susan "and there's only one woman I have any depth of feeling for. I wanted to do something special, because I was never brave enough to admit this before. Thus, when I saw that the TARDIS had a garden and that she had some wine, too, I took the opportunity to set this up for you. It's not much, but I'm glad to see that smile."
Ashamed, no... a little embarrassed as an afterthought? Yes. Not something to commend her, certainly.
Susan sat down at her spot and took the glass in her hand, the wetness of the condensation touching her fingers. She was just about to make a simple 'toast', a gesture really, before she paused, her head tilting once more, and her brows rose. Shaking her head, her empty hand raised-- "You're not suggesting we--" Marriage? "I mean.. you.. and me..." The drink was lowered once more, her features turned towards the incredulous. "You're not proposing, are you?" He couldn't be... this was just...
It wasn't that it was completely out of the realm of possibility, but-- didn't they have to figure out if they could handle being together without killing each other? Even if she'd seen in him everything she'd ever wished for herself and figured she could never have, this was all very.. sudden. Or-- she groaned inwardly, the thought occurred to her that perhaps he -wasn't-, and it was just... an explanation of the reason 'why' for it all.
As a result, of course, the commander may have tossed the proverbial wet blanket all over dinner. Susan took a deep breath, both hands working in gesture. She really was trying, and at least her tones suggested that she was, perhaps, backpedaling from her initial response. It had come so naturally, her defenses raised quickly and before she'd ever known they'd been built, and the gentle, but obvious shove away... She'd promised that she'd work on it-- and there it was.
She let out a shuddering exhale, softly audible, as she tried to gather her thoughts on the entire matter. She didn't have a high opinion on Ami personally, but she didn't mind Scott quite so much. But moreso, those two were completely different in personality and makeup from she and the Ranger seated before her. There was so much she could say that she shouldn't... and so much she should say that she really couldn't.
"Marcus... I don't know what to say." He'd explained, now, totally, the why. "I didn't mean that." The last thing she wanted was a crestfallen, kicked Ranger. He didn't deserve it. "I know... and I know that you know that I'm horrible at relationships. I'm trying, though. I don't know that we could ever be like Scott and Ami, though. I mean..."
Susan's devotion was linked to her trust. She'd given it to Marcus, but if he recognized that deeper thread, she didn't know. She'd do anything for the man with never a consideration... but the overt shows?
She shifted gears. Where she was headed wasn't anywhere she could really see, and as a result, she retreated to move to safer, but not necessarily easier ground. She retook her glass, wanting to drain it in a single go, just to feel the familiar burn. She waited, however.
"I was used to your leaving, and showing up a few days later to give reports. I really was. For some reason, today seemed... different. Why, I don't know. I tried to convince myself that it was because I didn't have work to keep me occupied... or go to Earhart's with Garibaldi and Stephen... but I was looking for you. Marking time, waiting for you to come back." Which was why she was both annoyed and pleased at his return.
She sighed and looked down at her glass in hand. "Thank you for coming back." For her.
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.
However, it took a great deal of willpower not to splutter when Susan mentioned marriage. "No..." he started to say, but she cut him off.
He stared, as she continued, not in a rude way, but he was transfixed by her voice, her attitude and well... her honesty.
It wasn't something he'd expected to see, not so early on in their relationship.
When she thanked him, he ducked his eyes, somewhat abashed by the simple words.
As he spoke, the words came quietly, bearly audible above the snapping and hissing of the fire to their side.
"I came back because I made a promise." he admitted, but he'd been GLAD to come back, so he raised his eyes again now, hoping she'd see that in the cerulean depths.
"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" he smiled a little sheepishly, knowing that John would slap him upside the head (or TRY to) for sounding like a sap.
He took a deep breath and sipped the wine once more, the scent of the fresh fish and citrus and herby salad filling his senses.
"It wasn't a proposal, Susan, just an acknowledgement that I'd... be honoured if you'd let me do small things, to make you happy. Seeing you smile, your eyes lighting up that makes me happy. I don't know how else to phrase it, really."
He shrugged a little, giving up any pretense at masks and secrets. "I want to be WITH you, no matter what. But I want it to be on your terms."
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 along the lines of what she'd expected, rather than the descriptions of ecstacy felt at marriage proposals. Technically, it'd meant the same, but it was a great deal more... personal, and palatable. It addressed her biggest fear, and she had a feeling he knew, her single dream.
She took a deep breath, and finally looked back up, looking him in the eye. She could tell that he meant it, as far as he was in control to make that promise. Susan pressed her lips together in an attempt to smile once more, offered, "Yes, well..." This was an evening of being completely... stumped. She'd been outmaneuvered, and yes... in a way, this could be likened to a skirmish within a campaign, and even she realized it.
"I don't know what my terms are, Marcus." How's that for honesty again? "I'm not some shrinking violet, though, that'll fade without you in the room. I'm not some simpering waif that can't survive until the next time I see you." Though she had admitted that she had missed him in his absence. "But... this is nice." At least there's some encouragement, right? "But please don't promise something you can't deliver." It was almost a plead. Almost. "I can't promise it either. I couldn't promise it a week ago, and I can't now... though now is a little easier than then." But the fact that she had considered it made it more of a tacit promise than spoken.
Susan shifted in her seat once more and noticed that she still held her wine in hand, and that she hadn't yet had any. She glanced back to Marcus and straightened, the glass in hand. She lifted it slightly in the air and cleared her voice softly,
"Dinner, tonight... and the two of us actually sitting down and not bickering is cause for noting the occasion. It's been a long time since I could actually relax without having to wonder if my 'link was going to go off, calling me back to duty, or waking me up in the middle of the night with a report from Alpha Squadron. Granted, you haven't told me anything about what you've seen so far since you were gone today, and all that could easily go out the window, but for the moment... it's us. You and me under the stars with a small fire, and..." Here, her attention flickered towards the food, "this is smelling really good. Thank you."
At the end, she raised her glass in gesture, and once done, emptied the glass before looking a little expectantly at Marcus. Drinking with a Russian, even at dinner, was a dangerous proposition.
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.
It was her turn to refill the glasses, and she did so the moment the glass bottom hit the table. She didn't refill his quite so much as she'd done hers, and rather than lifting the glass for yet another toast, she instead put the bottle down and reached for a fork for the salad. Spearing the first bit of greens, Susan asked, "How did your physical turn out there? Everything okay..." But for that whole 'empathic' thing. Once asked, she took the bite of the food, her brows raised at the 'familiarity' of it. What did she think? That hydroponics would have something that was comparable, but taste completely different? Of course, it also had that 'camping' flavour, when everything one ate tasted a whole lot better than if it was eaten 'at home', thanks to the exertions of the day.
The salad was washed down with a half-sip, half-swallow of wine, and another bite was taken. The way it was going, it wasn't going to last long, and neither was the wine...
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 imagine you'd have had time on the outposts to do up something like this."
But, more importantly, and she waved her fork to dismiss the question as a new one came in. "What was the ship like?" After all, Susan's never been in a 'First One's ship... and only knowing the Vorlons (and the fact that they forced hibernation while within for humans!), she's got little to no knowledge or real experience of the technology at hand.
"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.
Pursing his lips, his eyes followed the stream of smoke/steam that rose from the fire into the darkening sky. "Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet.
"You walk through the door and instead of a cupboard, you're in a structure that's so large you can barely encompass it all with your thoughts, let alone words. Larger on the inside than the out, was what the Doctor said. That doesn't really cover it, but when you consider he has gardens, VR rooms... you could say that it's nearly the size of Green sector, and then some."
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. Then package it within a broom closet..."
The displaced commander stopped, her fork held in the air before she replaced it on the island's makeshift plate. "A broom closet?" Her brows almost disappeared into her hairline in the description. How could it be that big, and still be -- are you telling me, that from the outside, the ship looks to be the size of a broom closet?" She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the idea. The other First Ones ships she'd seen were, well, SHIPS. Granted, their configurations were a mystery, but they were recognizable as ships. This? Not so much. And, truthfully, she wasn't 'where Marcus was' in regards to 'forgiving'... He'd never responded to her accusations-- only his... she'd left by then. She'd looked, she'd called out to the void, to the rim... and her world was in the process of being utterly destroyed.
Her world out there.
Not somewhere she honestly wanted to be, now.
Some of her thoughts on the matter were displayed in a pressing of her lips, her expression darkening fleetingly before she reached for a glass of wine, the attempt to dispel such thoughts of rising anger, couching the fear and despair she'd felt. The swallow was preceded with the quickest of salutes to the man before her before taken, and a deep breath followed by an audible exhale was given as the glass was replaced. Now, however... she had to tell herself, she was here. Marcus was here. Stephen was here... and everything would be okay.
"How is the command deck laid out? I mean, there's got to be something, right? What sort of power does it use? How much damage did it sustain when it landed? Something that can be fixed?" It's a whole lot easier talking about the physical makeup of the ship rather than those little bits and pieces that once threatened to rear its head. That, and the debriefing of intel was so deeply ingrained that it was part of her, even if she'd only worked with the Ranger for a scant 6-8 months. "The medical facilities? Anything that he'd allow Stephen access to?"
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.
Chewing on another mouthful of fish, he contemplated what he'd learned.
"It's possible the Doctor would let Stephen in to the med-bay, in an emergency. It wasn't really much more advanced than something the Minbari ships might have, except that it's scans are more detailed, more..." he paused, looking for the right words "complete?"
He sipped his wine, to moisten his throat. "As for fuel, I suspect that it's nothing as primitive as nuclear, and the engine, if that's what it was, seemed more crystalline, so I suspect a new type of power. Quite clean burning, as there was no radiating heat."
He smiled at Susan, happy to talk business, happy to talk about whatever she wanted.
"The console room that I saw has only a few furnishings... mmm. More like Narn aesthetics than anything else. I like the sparseness, but dark coppers, bronzes, those colours get hard on the eyes after a time. It has a large, central column, but I think it's designed to allow for a single pilot, since the monitor could be moved.
"Although, I'm not certain if what I saw wasn't just a telepathic projection of the ship, so we'd feel more comfortable, or not. I couldn't say for sure."
Assuming it was him.
But it had to be. She'd finished the notebook, and as far as 'profiles' went, there'd be no one else who'd even consider such a game.
After she finished the run, it was to the pool to clean up, get a quick wash before getting ready for the evening's watch by the fire. This'd be the first full day she, Stephen, and Marcus were here, and she was looking forward to sitting at the fire pit, talking, then turning in early. She'd been up since... way too early, thanks to Lt. Parker's arrival, and it didn't sit well.
Walking back to her shelter just in time to see the plume of smoke rise into the air, the dusky sky as backdrop, and her eyes widened. "Ah... hell," she swore. A towel was wrapped about her shoulders, her long hair was wet as it layed free. She was in shorts, a dark coloured t-shirt (thanks, again, to Stephen...) and she burst into a lope. Why wasn't anyone moving? Wasn't it a little obvious that there was a DAMNED FIRE? She couldn't remember Stephen mentioning having anything built out where the trio had set up-- but that didn't mean anything... Better safe than sorry, however, and she crossed the sand quickly.
Nearing the edge of the smoke, Susan coughed once, twice... fire. But she wasn't seeing any blue edges... or red... or any flame at all. Now, it was her chance at swearing for a second time, though slightly different. "What the HELL?" Didn't smell like billowy, shelter-consuming smoke and fire. It smelled like--
Lemon? Mint?
What in the hell was going on? She paused. This better not-- "Marcus?!" Even if it wasn't him, he was damned... always the first to be blamed. She'd blame him for sunspots, if she could.
Braving the cloud of ... seasoned smoke, that seemed more like steam as she restarted her path in, she paused once more... stopping in her tracks as she looked at the scene before him. Marcus, looking quite pleased... in jeans and a t-shirt? A 'table' set, though not really a table. More like a spot settled... 'plates' with grape-leaves settled (edible, most assuredly), a bottle of wine?! She was... stunned. There were few times in the Russian's life when she was absolutely speechless, and this was certainly one of them.
How? And, more importantly... though if she gave it any thought, it wouldn't have surprised her, Why?
She was right, though, in the culprit.
"You--" She was reeling... and the only way she knew, really, to rouse herself was to shift gears... "What are you doing back?" Now... how to work up a good 'mad'? She took a step forward; if she didn't, there was the chance that she'd never really get herself going. "How did you get back? And-- why?" Susan, now, was ready with a litany of questions, questions that she didn't let Marcus get an answer in-- not unless he spoke over her. "There are civilians back there that are going to need your help-- two scientists... a pregnant woman..." Pull out the helpless card!
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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 amount "there are three other men who are as well trained as I, if not better. I'll be back with them by the morning, I promised both them and myself."
He gestured to the table. "Won't you sit down? Please?" He watched as she crossed her arms, but he could see that the smile wasn't leaving her eyes, most of it was an act. "I've gone to a great deal of effort to do this for you. And for once, just one time, I'd like you to relax and enjoy it."
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She crossed her arms in front of herself, again, a feeble attempt at a wall that just seemed doomed to failure. She sighed and dropped her arms once again, her expression one of... measured defeat, though as she looked again at the table, she had to give it to him. The longer Susan looked, the more her face shifted until she turned her attention back to the Ranger, an honest, though still incredulous, smile lit her visage. She shook her head in disbelief again, her tones echoing her expression, blue eyes still gleaming with ... the pleasure of the scene before her. "What ever made you--" She was still stunned, and she was working to gather herself. If she couldn't be mad... Finally, she actually laughed, or rather, chuckled, and took a step towards the proffered seating area.
"Wine?" She didn't pick up the bottle, though she did at least glance at the label. Not that she'd recognize anything 250 years in the past as far as vineyards were concerned. Heck... she didn't recognize most of them in her own time. "Marcus... I'm--" Still stunned, though now, the smile was there to stay. "This must have taken a lot of planning." And, what else could she say, but, "Thank you."
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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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"You're going to have some of that too, right?"
She moved toward the settings, and paused as Marcus didn't make a move to join her. He hesitated ever so slightly before the rose was flourished. Once again, Susan was surprised. Shocked, honestly, as tropical islands weren't known for roses... were they? She faltered, her words briefly stammered; a true indication that the Ranger really had exceeded anything that she thought he could possibly do-- here, in particular!
"What-- I mean, how?" Susan took it, her smile relighting her face, her tones low as she looked to the red, partially opened flower. "They're my favourite," she began again, but stopped, looking back to Marcus, "You probably knew that, though." He had the advantage of a few years over her several months.
Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly such that her shoulders lowered visibly in the action. "I can't believe you did all this. It's just..." She shook her head again before canting it slightly to study the Ranger, the gleam still easily apparent in her blue eyes. "You still-- I mean, I fell asleep on you... Most other people, that'd be a deal-breaker right there."
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He grinned as he motioned for her to sit before he sat himself in front of the steaming fish.
"When I was in the TARDIS" he reached for the bottle and poured himself a small glass as he continued "I felt something.. amazing" a little smile of wonder crept into his eyes "Scott proposed to Ami and I'd never felt such love and devotion before."
He sighed, running his index finger lightly along the rim of his makeshift glass eyes now fixed on that same vessel. "I admit then to feeling selfish, I wanted to have some of that feeling, myself."
Now he raised his eyes to Susan "and there's only one woman I have any depth of feeling for. I wanted to do something special, because I was never brave enough to admit this before. Thus, when I saw that the TARDIS had a garden and that she had some wine, too, I took the opportunity to set this up for you. It's not much, but I'm glad to see that smile."
He proffered his own, shy smile.
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Susan sat down at her spot and took the glass in her hand, the wetness of the condensation touching her fingers. She was just about to make a simple 'toast', a gesture really, before she paused, her head tilting once more, and her brows rose. Shaking her head, her empty hand raised-- "You're not suggesting we--" Marriage? "I mean.. you.. and me..." The drink was lowered once more, her features turned towards the incredulous. "You're not proposing, are you?" He couldn't be... this was just...
It wasn't that it was completely out of the realm of possibility, but-- didn't they have to figure out if they could handle being together without killing each other? Even if she'd seen in him everything she'd ever wished for herself and figured she could never have, this was all very.. sudden. Or-- she groaned inwardly, the thought occurred to her that perhaps he -wasn't-, and it was just... an explanation of the reason 'why' for it all.
As a result, of course, the commander may have tossed the proverbial wet blanket all over dinner. Susan took a deep breath, both hands working in gesture. She really was trying, and at least her tones suggested that she was, perhaps, backpedaling from her initial response. It had come so naturally, her defenses raised quickly and before she'd ever known they'd been built, and the gentle, but obvious shove away... She'd promised that she'd work on it-- and there it was.
She let out a shuddering exhale, softly audible, as she tried to gather her thoughts on the entire matter. She didn't have a high opinion on Ami personally, but she didn't mind Scott quite so much. But moreso, those two were completely different in personality and makeup from she and the Ranger seated before her. There was so much she could say that she shouldn't... and so much she should say that she really couldn't.
"Marcus... I don't know what to say." He'd explained, now, totally, the why. "I didn't mean that." The last thing she wanted was a crestfallen, kicked Ranger. He didn't deserve it. "I know... and I know that you know that I'm horrible at relationships. I'm trying, though. I don't know that we could ever be like Scott and Ami, though. I mean..."
Susan's devotion was linked to her trust. She'd given it to Marcus, but if he recognized that deeper thread, she didn't know. She'd do anything for the man with never a consideration... but the overt shows?
She shifted gears. Where she was headed wasn't anywhere she could really see, and as a result, she retreated to move to safer, but not necessarily easier ground. She retook her glass, wanting to drain it in a single go, just to feel the familiar burn. She waited, however.
"I was used to your leaving, and showing up a few days later to give reports. I really was. For some reason, today seemed... different. Why, I don't know. I tried to convince myself that it was because I didn't have work to keep me occupied... or go to Earhart's with Garibaldi and Stephen... but I was looking for you. Marking time, waiting for you to come back." Which was why she was both annoyed and pleased at his return.
She sighed and looked down at her glass in hand. "Thank you for coming back." For her.
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However, it took a great deal of willpower not to splutter when Susan mentioned marriage. "No..." he started to say, but she cut him off.
He stared, as she continued, not in a rude way, but he was transfixed by her voice, her attitude and well... her honesty.
It wasn't something he'd expected to see, not so early on in their relationship.
When she thanked him, he ducked his eyes, somewhat abashed by the simple words.
As he spoke, the words came quietly, bearly audible above the snapping and hissing of the fire to their side.
"I came back because I made a promise." he admitted, but he'd been GLAD to come back, so he raised his eyes again now, hoping she'd see that in the cerulean depths.
"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" he smiled a little sheepishly, knowing that John would slap him upside the head (or TRY to) for sounding like a sap.
He took a deep breath and sipped the wine once more, the scent of the fresh fish and citrus and herby salad filling his senses.
"It wasn't a proposal, Susan, just an acknowledgement that I'd... be honoured if you'd let me do small things, to make you happy. Seeing you smile, your eyes lighting up that makes me happy. I don't know how else to phrase it, really."
He shrugged a little, giving up any pretense at masks and secrets. "I want to be WITH you, no matter what. But I want it to be on your terms."
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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 along the lines of what she'd expected, rather than the descriptions of ecstacy felt at marriage proposals. Technically, it'd meant the same, but it was a great deal more... personal, and palatable. It addressed her biggest fear, and she had a feeling he knew, her single dream.
She took a deep breath, and finally looked back up, looking him in the eye. She could tell that he meant it, as far as he was in control to make that promise. Susan pressed her lips together in an attempt to smile once more, offered, "Yes, well..." This was an evening of being completely... stumped. She'd been outmaneuvered, and yes... in a way, this could be likened to a skirmish within a campaign, and even she realized it.
"I don't know what my terms are, Marcus." How's that for honesty again? "I'm not some shrinking violet, though, that'll fade without you in the room. I'm not some simpering waif that can't survive until the next time I see you." Though she had admitted that she had missed him in his absence. "But... this is nice." At least there's some encouragement, right? "But please don't promise something you can't deliver." It was almost a plead. Almost. "I can't promise it either. I couldn't promise it a week ago, and I can't now... though now is a little easier than then." But the fact that she had considered it made it more of a tacit promise than spoken.
Susan shifted in her seat once more and noticed that she still held her wine in hand, and that she hadn't yet had any. She glanced back to Marcus and straightened, the glass in hand. She lifted it slightly in the air and cleared her voice softly,
"Dinner, tonight... and the two of us actually sitting down and not bickering is cause for noting the occasion. It's been a long time since I could actually relax without having to wonder if my 'link was going to go off, calling me back to duty, or waking me up in the middle of the night with a report from Alpha Squadron. Granted, you haven't told me anything about what you've seen so far since you were gone today, and all that could easily go out the window, but for the moment... it's us. You and me under the stars with a small fire, and..." Here, her attention flickered towards the food, "this is smelling really good. Thank you."
At the end, she raised her glass in gesture, and once done, emptied the glass before looking a little expectantly at Marcus. Drinking with a Russian, even at dinner, was a dangerous proposition.
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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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It was her turn to refill the glasses, and she did so the moment the glass bottom hit the table. She didn't refill his quite so much as she'd done hers, and rather than lifting the glass for yet another toast, she instead put the bottle down and reached for a fork for the salad. Spearing the first bit of greens, Susan asked, "How did your physical turn out there? Everything okay..." But for that whole 'empathic' thing. Once asked, she took the bite of the food, her brows raised at the 'familiarity' of it. What did she think? That hydroponics would have something that was comparable, but taste completely different? Of course, it also had that 'camping' flavour, when everything one ate tasted a whole lot better than if it was eaten 'at home', thanks to the exertions of the day.
The salad was washed down with a half-sip, half-swallow of wine, and another bite was taken. The way it was going, it wasn't going to last long, and neither was the wine...
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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 imagine you'd have had time on the outposts to do up something like this."
But, more importantly, and she waved her fork to dismiss the question as a new one came in. "What was the ship like?" After all, Susan's never been in a 'First One's ship... and only knowing the Vorlons (and the fact that they forced hibernation while within for humans!), she's got little to no knowledge or real experience of the technology at hand.
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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.
Pursing his lips, his eyes followed the stream of smoke/steam that rose from the fire into the darkening sky. "Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet.
"You walk through the door and instead of a cupboard, you're in a structure that's so large you can barely encompass it all with your thoughts, let alone words. Larger on the inside than the out, was what the Doctor said. That doesn't really cover it, but when you consider he has gardens, VR rooms... you could say that it's nearly the size of Green sector, and then some."
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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. Then package it within a broom closet..."
The displaced commander stopped, her fork held in the air before she replaced it on the island's makeshift plate. "A broom closet?" Her brows almost disappeared into her hairline in the description. How could it be that big, and still be -- are you telling me, that from the outside, the ship looks to be the size of a broom closet?" She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the idea. The other First Ones ships she'd seen were, well, SHIPS. Granted, their configurations were a mystery, but they were recognizable as ships. This? Not so much. And, truthfully, she wasn't 'where Marcus was' in regards to 'forgiving'... He'd never responded to her accusations-- only his... she'd left by then. She'd looked, she'd called out to the void, to the rim... and her world was in the process of being utterly destroyed.
Her world out there.
Not somewhere she honestly wanted to be, now.
Some of her thoughts on the matter were displayed in a pressing of her lips, her expression darkening fleetingly before she reached for a glass of wine, the attempt to dispel such thoughts of rising anger, couching the fear and despair she'd felt. The swallow was preceded with the quickest of salutes to the man before her before taken, and a deep breath followed by an audible exhale was given as the glass was replaced. Now, however... she had to tell herself, she was here. Marcus was here. Stephen was here... and everything would be okay.
"How is the command deck laid out? I mean, there's got to be something, right? What sort of power does it use? How much damage did it sustain when it landed? Something that can be fixed?" It's a whole lot easier talking about the physical makeup of the ship rather than those little bits and pieces that once threatened to rear its head. That, and the debriefing of intel was so deeply ingrained that it was part of her, even if she'd only worked with the Ranger for a scant 6-8 months. "The medical facilities? Anything that he'd allow Stephen access to?"
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Chewing on another mouthful of fish, he contemplated what he'd learned.
"It's possible the Doctor would let Stephen in to the med-bay, in an emergency. It wasn't really much more advanced than something the Minbari ships might have, except that it's scans are more detailed, more..." he paused, looking for the right words "complete?"
He sipped his wine, to moisten his throat. "As for fuel, I suspect that it's nothing as primitive as nuclear, and the engine, if that's what it was, seemed more crystalline, so I suspect a new type of power. Quite clean burning, as there was no radiating heat."
He smiled at Susan, happy to talk business, happy to talk about whatever she wanted.
"The console room that I saw has only a few furnishings... mmm. More like Narn aesthetics than anything else. I like the sparseness, but dark coppers, bronzes, those colours get hard on the eyes after a time. It has a large, central column, but I think it's designed to allow for a single pilot, since the monitor could be moved.
"Although, I'm not certain if what I saw wasn't just a telepathic projection of the ship, so we'd feel more comfortable, or not. I couldn't say for sure."
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