Fic: Babylon 5, Susan/Talia
Written for 
lgbtfest
Title: Confessions
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairing/characters: Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters
Spoilers: Set shortly after episode 2.08, A Race Through Dark Places. Spoilers up to 3.11, Ceremonies of Light and Dark.
Rating: PG-13 (One swear word, implied sex.)
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and its characters belong to JMS, WB and TNT, not me.
Prompt: Babylon 5, Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters, being together as two women is fine and legal, being together as a telepath and a (supposed) mundane isn't. Neither of them have ever had to hide a relationship before, even with another woman.
Author’s Note: Many, many thank yous to
peeeeeeet and pinkdormouse for the fabulous betas.
There are words for people who consort with telepaths. Consort. You can talk about fucking them, joke about how many telepaths you’ve tricked into your bed, but fall in love, marry one? Well.
They were words Susan heard as a child; though it wasn't until she was older that she understood what they meant. They were words that drove another wedge between her and her father; in the worst, darkest arguments she would spit them at him, and watch the shutters in his eyes fall shut.
They were words she used easily, in locker rooms and Earthforce bars. When news of Garibaldi's semi-stalking habits got around, and Lou and the others started taunting him, they were words she laughed at. (Garibaldi stared at her, betrayed.)
And now here she was, in the dark, with a telepath.
"Please don’t," Talia pleaded, as Susan leant across to touch her arm, double house vodkas making her brave, reckless. "They'll mock you, but they'll crucify me." Talia sat still and stiff until Susan leaned back, keeping gloveless hands clenched tightly around her drink. (Too much of a giveaway, even if no one in the bar recognised them.)
"They’ll do more than mock," Susan muttered, staring into her glass.
Talia sighed, and Susan drank.
The bar was only one level out of brown sector, every surface covered in a thin film of grime. Their table was at the back, beneath a brown wall light, shadows hiding their identity.
Talia hated coming out in public together, but Susan had her own rules about how often she could drink in her quarters. So they came to little-know bars and restaurants; misadventures with translators worth the secrecy. Susan would drink and Talia would remain untouchable, and then they would sneak back to Talia's quarters. (Hardly ever Susan's: Talia had no good reason to be in the command sector; Susan's alibis were always better.)
Today Susan was unusually bitter. A few days ago she'd passed the Fresh Air restaurant and spotted Sheridan and Delenn having dinner, chatting and laughing. She stopped in shock. Relationship with aliens were about as taboo as relationships with teeps; but much less of a problem, given how few aliens the average human would ever meet.
Sheridan had reached across the table and taken Delenn's hand; she had laughed and leaned in closer. Susan had given herself a mental shake and hurried on.
Now, several drinks down, she felt trapped. She couldn't take Talia for a meal in Fresh Air, couldn't ask her to join them in Earhart's, couldn't even touch her in public. She had to sit silently in a pretence of embarrassment when the relationship gossip turned to her; to judge how quickly she could redirect the conversation to Keffer's latest date or Walsh's ongoing arguments with his wife. (Not to Garibaldi, all things considered, and never to Sheridan: for another reason, now.)
Across the table, Talia finished her drink, and pushed the empty glass to the centre of the table. Susan caught her eye, and she smiled.
"Shall we - "
Susan laughed, downed her drink and stood.
She followed Talia out of the bar, where they split up, took separate turbo lifts, Susan dawdling by a couple of stands in the Zocalo, to give Talia the chance to get to her quarters first. Then, a quick ride in the lifts, checking the corridor was clear, before she arrived at Talia's door.
Talia opened it a split-second after Susan rang the bell, as if she were waiting just inside, which she probably was. Susan reached for her hands; they were both smiling now, the tension slipping away.
The only telepath for ten thousand miles, Talia had learnt to live without. Without mental contact, without physical touch, without relationships that extended beyond business and necessity.
Talia had her own problems, her own community. They'll disown me, she said. Is that so bad?
There were small circles of telepaths who had been excluded from the community for pursuing relationships with mundanes; they had learnt to live without as well. If the Corps found out about her, Talia would be reassigned. Back to a Psi Corps centre, where she would be found a husband and ordered to have children. A normal, healthy marriage. Where her husband would hate her for having loved a mundane, where she would be alone, surrounded by her own kind.
And not with Susan. Despite all her training and conditioning against it, she had fallen for a mundane.
Tonight Talia felt unusually uncomfortable. Bester had left, but she was exhausted from monitoring her surface thoughts, just in case Bester was scanning her. Still waiting for the recall order, because she'd let something slip, (about Susan, or Jason, or the railroad); just enough for him to be suspicious.
Susan was drinking more than usual, while Talia hung onto her first glass of wine tightly. Soon, she would convince Susan to come back to her quarters. She mentally rehearsed it; a teasing smile, a hopeful glance, shall we - It was easy enough.
Susan might smile back, or laugh even, flushing slightly as she finished her drink. They would go through the usual complicated routes that would end with them both in Talia's quarters, where they might forget about the outside world, and all its problems, for a few hours.
Until Susan sneaked out to return to her own quarters, just in case, both of them pretending that Talia was asleep. Or the next day, when Susan would greet her as Ms. Winters, and avoid her eyes.
Afterwards, there was no one to talk to.
To admit it would be admitting to a thousand smaller transgressions. That she'd snuck around the station, that she had, on occasion, let uncleared personnel into command sections, even if it was only her personal quarters. That she'd risked everything they were doing by letting a telepath close enough to scan her; someone who could report back to (Bester) Psi Corps and destroy them.
That she'd broken her own vow, the one she'd made after her mother died, that no one else would ever be allowed inside her mind.
That she wasn't breaking a taboo, actually; that she had lied to them; that she wasn’t who she'd let them think she was.
(That she didn’t even know who she was anymore.)
She told Delenn because she had learnt that Minbari, or at least Delenn, felt differently about these things. It was still the hardest thing she’d ever done.
lgbtfestTitle: Confessions
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairing/characters: Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters
Spoilers: Set shortly after episode 2.08, A Race Through Dark Places. Spoilers up to 3.11, Ceremonies of Light and Dark.
Rating: PG-13 (One swear word, implied sex.)
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and its characters belong to JMS, WB and TNT, not me.
Prompt: Babylon 5, Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters, being together as two women is fine and legal, being together as a telepath and a (supposed) mundane isn't. Neither of them have ever had to hide a relationship before, even with another woman.
Author’s Note: Many, many thank yous to
peeeeeeet and pinkdormouse for the fabulous betas.There are words for people who consort with telepaths. Consort. You can talk about fucking them, joke about how many telepaths you’ve tricked into your bed, but fall in love, marry one? Well.
They were words Susan heard as a child; though it wasn't until she was older that she understood what they meant. They were words that drove another wedge between her and her father; in the worst, darkest arguments she would spit them at him, and watch the shutters in his eyes fall shut.
They were words she used easily, in locker rooms and Earthforce bars. When news of Garibaldi's semi-stalking habits got around, and Lou and the others started taunting him, they were words she laughed at. (Garibaldi stared at her, betrayed.)
And now here she was, in the dark, with a telepath.
"Please don’t," Talia pleaded, as Susan leant across to touch her arm, double house vodkas making her brave, reckless. "They'll mock you, but they'll crucify me." Talia sat still and stiff until Susan leaned back, keeping gloveless hands clenched tightly around her drink. (Too much of a giveaway, even if no one in the bar recognised them.)
"They’ll do more than mock," Susan muttered, staring into her glass.
Talia sighed, and Susan drank.
The bar was only one level out of brown sector, every surface covered in a thin film of grime. Their table was at the back, beneath a brown wall light, shadows hiding their identity.
Talia hated coming out in public together, but Susan had her own rules about how often she could drink in her quarters. So they came to little-know bars and restaurants; misadventures with translators worth the secrecy. Susan would drink and Talia would remain untouchable, and then they would sneak back to Talia's quarters. (Hardly ever Susan's: Talia had no good reason to be in the command sector; Susan's alibis were always better.)
Today Susan was unusually bitter. A few days ago she'd passed the Fresh Air restaurant and spotted Sheridan and Delenn having dinner, chatting and laughing. She stopped in shock. Relationship with aliens were about as taboo as relationships with teeps; but much less of a problem, given how few aliens the average human would ever meet.
Sheridan had reached across the table and taken Delenn's hand; she had laughed and leaned in closer. Susan had given herself a mental shake and hurried on.
Now, several drinks down, she felt trapped. She couldn't take Talia for a meal in Fresh Air, couldn't ask her to join them in Earhart's, couldn't even touch her in public. She had to sit silently in a pretence of embarrassment when the relationship gossip turned to her; to judge how quickly she could redirect the conversation to Keffer's latest date or Walsh's ongoing arguments with his wife. (Not to Garibaldi, all things considered, and never to Sheridan: for another reason, now.)
Across the table, Talia finished her drink, and pushed the empty glass to the centre of the table. Susan caught her eye, and she smiled.
"Shall we - "
Susan laughed, downed her drink and stood.
She followed Talia out of the bar, where they split up, took separate turbo lifts, Susan dawdling by a couple of stands in the Zocalo, to give Talia the chance to get to her quarters first. Then, a quick ride in the lifts, checking the corridor was clear, before she arrived at Talia's door.
Talia opened it a split-second after Susan rang the bell, as if she were waiting just inside, which she probably was. Susan reached for her hands; they were both smiling now, the tension slipping away.
The only telepath for ten thousand miles, Talia had learnt to live without. Without mental contact, without physical touch, without relationships that extended beyond business and necessity.
Talia had her own problems, her own community. They'll disown me, she said. Is that so bad?
There were small circles of telepaths who had been excluded from the community for pursuing relationships with mundanes; they had learnt to live without as well. If the Corps found out about her, Talia would be reassigned. Back to a Psi Corps centre, where she would be found a husband and ordered to have children. A normal, healthy marriage. Where her husband would hate her for having loved a mundane, where she would be alone, surrounded by her own kind.
And not with Susan. Despite all her training and conditioning against it, she had fallen for a mundane.
Tonight Talia felt unusually uncomfortable. Bester had left, but she was exhausted from monitoring her surface thoughts, just in case Bester was scanning her. Still waiting for the recall order, because she'd let something slip, (about Susan, or Jason, or the railroad); just enough for him to be suspicious.
Susan was drinking more than usual, while Talia hung onto her first glass of wine tightly. Soon, she would convince Susan to come back to her quarters. She mentally rehearsed it; a teasing smile, a hopeful glance, shall we - It was easy enough.
Susan might smile back, or laugh even, flushing slightly as she finished her drink. They would go through the usual complicated routes that would end with them both in Talia's quarters, where they might forget about the outside world, and all its problems, for a few hours.
Until Susan sneaked out to return to her own quarters, just in case, both of them pretending that Talia was asleep. Or the next day, when Susan would greet her as Ms. Winters, and avoid her eyes.
Afterwards, there was no one to talk to.
To admit it would be admitting to a thousand smaller transgressions. That she'd snuck around the station, that she had, on occasion, let uncleared personnel into command sections, even if it was only her personal quarters. That she'd risked everything they were doing by letting a telepath close enough to scan her; someone who could report back to (Bester) Psi Corps and destroy them.
That she'd broken her own vow, the one she'd made after her mother died, that no one else would ever be allowed inside her mind.
That she wasn't breaking a taboo, actually; that she had lied to them; that she wasn’t who she'd let them think she was.
(That she didn’t even know who she was anymore.)
She told Delenn because she had learnt that Minbari, or at least Delenn, felt differently about these things. It was still the hardest thing she’d ever done.