Fic: Five Times Ivanova Never Kissed Talia (Babylon 5)
~1~
“No, no, no, wait - right here, it’s coming up, right here - ”
Talia leans forward, her thigh brushing against Susan’s. “No way,” she says, biting her lip to hold back the smile.
“And, now,” says Garibaldi, pointing towards the television screen.
Talia bursts into incredulous laughter.
Susan shakes her head at the antics unfolding on the screen. “This is ridiculous, Garibaldi.”
“It’s the second-best thing in the universe,” corrects Garibaldi.
On the screen, a flattened cartoon character starts to pick itself up off the ground. Susan rolls her eyes, tightening her lips to keep the grin from showing.
Garibaldi gropes in the bottom of the popcorn bowl - stops, shakes it. “All right, who ate the last of the popcorn?”
“You did,” says Susan.
“I did not,” Garibaldi protests.
Talia gasps in a breath. “She’s right,” she manages. “You did.”
“Right, fine,” sighs Garibaldi. “You girls wait here. I’ll just grab us some more, shall I?”
“This is funny,” says Talia, half-breathless, after he’s gone. “I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
The corners of Susan’s mouth curl, in a smile. “You should more often, then,” says Susan. “You’re beautiful when you do.”
Talia’s face falls. “Susan,” she starts.
“Shut up,” says Susan, and she presses a slow, chaste kiss to Talia’s mouth.
When she withdraws, she can see the flush rising in Talia’s fair skin.
After Garibaldi comes back, Talia takes Susan’s hand, secretly, and wraps their fingers together.
~2~
“I didn’t expect it from you.”
Talia tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t expect what?”
Susan shrugs. “Helping them,” she says. “Letting them convince you to help them.”
Talia’s eyes are downcast, now. She takes a sip from her drink, and exhales, slowly. “They were telepaths, too,” she says.
“Rogue telepaths,” corrects Susan.
Talia lets her head drop into her hands. “I don’t know what to believe, Susan.”
Susan sees her throat work, sees the hand slip down and cover Talia’s eyes.
“Believe this,” says Susan, taking Talia’s hands. Bare hands - skin-on-skin contact enhances telepathy, and Talia almost flinches away, afraid of reading accidentally, of offending. “You did the right thing,” continues Susan, holding eye contact. “You helped people.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” says Talia, softly.
When Susan kisses her, Talia’s lips are smooth, and the inside of her mouth is bitter from the alcohol. Talia kisses like she speaks - unobtrusive, quiet and insightful.
Talia’s hand moves to Susan’s neck, cupping her cheek, and Susan knows for sure that Talia is hers.
~3~
Talia’s skin is smooth, unmarked - Susan strokes down Talia’s back, still lazy, relaxed from the night’s sleep. Talia stirs, a slight intake of breath, and her eyes open.
“Morning,” whispers Susan, and she captures Talia’s mouth, coaxing Talia’s tongue out to meet hers. Talia makes a soft noise, into the kiss, and after, she settles back on Susan’s shoulder, tracing the line of her lips with her thumb.
“What time is it?” asks Talia, her voice still sleep-fogged.
“About time I should be getting up,” says Susan.
“Oh,” and Talia starts to move away.
Susan catches her, pulls her back in. “That is,” says Susan, “were I intending to go to work today.”
Talia’s eyebrows rise. She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you kidding?” She half-laughs. “Susan Ivanova, playing hooky?”
“It’s this darn twenty-four hour flu,” says Susan. “I just can’t seem to shake it,” and she kisses Talia again, deep and long.
“What about Doctor Franklin?”
“I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Talia’s smile gets wider, genuine. “This idea is sounding better by the minute.”
“I love you,” murmurs Susan, pressing a kiss under Talia’s jaw.
“I love you, too.”
~4~
“You’re not Talia,” breathes Susan. “You’re not her.”
The new Talia, the cruel, cold Talia, twists her mouth into the mockery of an affectionate smile. “Oh, Susan,” she says, “you loved her. Don’t think she didn’t know.”
“She didn’t,” says Susan, through gritted teeth.
“She did,” laughs Talia. “She just didn’t care.”
“That’s a lie.”
She moves more swiftly than Susan expects - a hand against Susan’s chest, pressing her to the wall, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to knock the breath out of Susan’s body. The kiss is brutal, a seizure - not about affection, not about desire but about power, deadly sour on Susan’s tongue.
It only takes a second or two for the combat reflexes to take over, for Susan to throw Talia back. Talia sprawls on the floor, and she laughs.
“Is that what you wanted, Susan?”
It’s all Susan can do not to kill her, right there.
~5~
She finds Talia alone, in CIC, in front of the window. Her hands are clasped behind her back, her eyes distant, lost in the stars.
As Susan approaches, Talia turns. “Susan,” she says, and she reaches out. “I missed you.”
Susan flinches back.
“It’s me,” says Talia.
“How can I believe that?” asks Susan.
Talia bites her lip, tightens her hand on the cool metal railing. “Not everything of me was destroyed, you know. I’m still in there. She has me trapped.”
“Lyta said everything of the host personality was destroyed.” She moves up to stand next to Talia. The stars are so bright.
“She was wrong.” Talia touches Susan’s cheek, feather-light.
Susan’s eyes fall, to the console. “This isn’t real,” she whispers. “It’s just a dream.”
“Then maybe it’s my dream too,” says Talia. “Maybe we’re dreaming the same thing?”
“I think I loved you,” breathes Susan.
“Oh, Susan,” says Talia, and she pulls Susan close.
The warmth of Talia’s body is almost too much to take. Susan can’t help but pull back, kiss her - and that kiss is everything, it’s all Susan could have hoped for, it’s anguish and love - it’s goodbye.
“You should forget me,” says Talia, her eyes shining with grief. “You can’t save me.”
“I wish I could.”
One last kiss, and Susan twists awake, the smell of Talia still lingering in the air.
She closes her eyes. The darkness of her quarters isn’t comforting, or familiar or reassuring. It’s just cold. Cold and empty.
Susan curls under the blankets, and closes her eyes. She doesn’t sleep again that night.
“No, no, no, wait - right here, it’s coming up, right here - ”
Talia leans forward, her thigh brushing against Susan’s. “No way,” she says, biting her lip to hold back the smile.
“And, now,” says Garibaldi, pointing towards the television screen.
Talia bursts into incredulous laughter.
Susan shakes her head at the antics unfolding on the screen. “This is ridiculous, Garibaldi.”
“It’s the second-best thing in the universe,” corrects Garibaldi.
On the screen, a flattened cartoon character starts to pick itself up off the ground. Susan rolls her eyes, tightening her lips to keep the grin from showing.
Garibaldi gropes in the bottom of the popcorn bowl - stops, shakes it. “All right, who ate the last of the popcorn?”
“You did,” says Susan.
“I did not,” Garibaldi protests.
Talia gasps in a breath. “She’s right,” she manages. “You did.”
“Right, fine,” sighs Garibaldi. “You girls wait here. I’ll just grab us some more, shall I?”
“This is funny,” says Talia, half-breathless, after he’s gone. “I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
The corners of Susan’s mouth curl, in a smile. “You should more often, then,” says Susan. “You’re beautiful when you do.”
Talia’s face falls. “Susan,” she starts.
“Shut up,” says Susan, and she presses a slow, chaste kiss to Talia’s mouth.
When she withdraws, she can see the flush rising in Talia’s fair skin.
After Garibaldi comes back, Talia takes Susan’s hand, secretly, and wraps their fingers together.
~2~
“I didn’t expect it from you.”
Talia tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t expect what?”
Susan shrugs. “Helping them,” she says. “Letting them convince you to help them.”
Talia’s eyes are downcast, now. She takes a sip from her drink, and exhales, slowly. “They were telepaths, too,” she says.
“Rogue telepaths,” corrects Susan.
Talia lets her head drop into her hands. “I don’t know what to believe, Susan.”
Susan sees her throat work, sees the hand slip down and cover Talia’s eyes.
“Believe this,” says Susan, taking Talia’s hands. Bare hands - skin-on-skin contact enhances telepathy, and Talia almost flinches away, afraid of reading accidentally, of offending. “You did the right thing,” continues Susan, holding eye contact. “You helped people.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” says Talia, softly.
When Susan kisses her, Talia’s lips are smooth, and the inside of her mouth is bitter from the alcohol. Talia kisses like she speaks - unobtrusive, quiet and insightful.
Talia’s hand moves to Susan’s neck, cupping her cheek, and Susan knows for sure that Talia is hers.
~3~
Talia’s skin is smooth, unmarked - Susan strokes down Talia’s back, still lazy, relaxed from the night’s sleep. Talia stirs, a slight intake of breath, and her eyes open.
“Morning,” whispers Susan, and she captures Talia’s mouth, coaxing Talia’s tongue out to meet hers. Talia makes a soft noise, into the kiss, and after, she settles back on Susan’s shoulder, tracing the line of her lips with her thumb.
“What time is it?” asks Talia, her voice still sleep-fogged.
“About time I should be getting up,” says Susan.
“Oh,” and Talia starts to move away.
Susan catches her, pulls her back in. “That is,” says Susan, “were I intending to go to work today.”
Talia’s eyebrows rise. She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you kidding?” She half-laughs. “Susan Ivanova, playing hooky?”
“It’s this darn twenty-four hour flu,” says Susan. “I just can’t seem to shake it,” and she kisses Talia again, deep and long.
“What about Doctor Franklin?”
“I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Talia’s smile gets wider, genuine. “This idea is sounding better by the minute.”
“I love you,” murmurs Susan, pressing a kiss under Talia’s jaw.
“I love you, too.”
~4~
“You’re not Talia,” breathes Susan. “You’re not her.”
The new Talia, the cruel, cold Talia, twists her mouth into the mockery of an affectionate smile. “Oh, Susan,” she says, “you loved her. Don’t think she didn’t know.”
“She didn’t,” says Susan, through gritted teeth.
“She did,” laughs Talia. “She just didn’t care.”
“That’s a lie.”
She moves more swiftly than Susan expects - a hand against Susan’s chest, pressing her to the wall, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to knock the breath out of Susan’s body. The kiss is brutal, a seizure - not about affection, not about desire but about power, deadly sour on Susan’s tongue.
It only takes a second or two for the combat reflexes to take over, for Susan to throw Talia back. Talia sprawls on the floor, and she laughs.
“Is that what you wanted, Susan?”
It’s all Susan can do not to kill her, right there.
~5~
She finds Talia alone, in CIC, in front of the window. Her hands are clasped behind her back, her eyes distant, lost in the stars.
As Susan approaches, Talia turns. “Susan,” she says, and she reaches out. “I missed you.”
Susan flinches back.
“It’s me,” says Talia.
“How can I believe that?” asks Susan.
Talia bites her lip, tightens her hand on the cool metal railing. “Not everything of me was destroyed, you know. I’m still in there. She has me trapped.”
“Lyta said everything of the host personality was destroyed.” She moves up to stand next to Talia. The stars are so bright.
“She was wrong.” Talia touches Susan’s cheek, feather-light.
Susan’s eyes fall, to the console. “This isn’t real,” she whispers. “It’s just a dream.”
“Then maybe it’s my dream too,” says Talia. “Maybe we’re dreaming the same thing?”
“I think I loved you,” breathes Susan.
“Oh, Susan,” says Talia, and she pulls Susan close.
The warmth of Talia’s body is almost too much to take. Susan can’t help but pull back, kiss her - and that kiss is everything, it’s all Susan could have hoped for, it’s anguish and love - it’s goodbye.
“You should forget me,” says Talia, her eyes shining with grief. “You can’t save me.”
“I wish I could.”
One last kiss, and Susan twists awake, the smell of Talia still lingering in the air.
She closes her eyes. The darkness of her quarters isn’t comforting, or familiar or reassuring. It’s just cold. Cold and empty.
Susan curls under the blankets, and closes her eyes. She doesn’t sleep again that night.