Prologue -- Jackals, Vultures and Doves
(Margo and Wally)
By Christina Kamnikar
Garibaldi would have liked to be able to go back to normal life without constantly being reminded of the tragedy, but many of his more recent problems had to do with the looting of the Markab quarters. //Some of those skuzzballs probably didn't even wait 'til the bodies were cold.... just took what they could get and sold it as fast as possible.// It wasn't any kind of surprise, but he found he could still be disgusted at the sheer callousness that inspired someone to rob the dead.
His comlink cheeped and he tapped it. "Garibaldi."
"Chief, we've got a developing 415 in the casino. Someone's trying to bust the place into matchsticks, we got a team on their way---" Lou Welch sounded as weary as he felt, but then, he'd been pulling as many double shifts as Garibaldi and Zack for the last two weeks.
"I'll join 'em there. Out." The Security chief hit his link and changed course for the Zocalo, muttering, "Great. Business as usual."
"I want you to *explain*... why it's funny," the woman said, pushing her opponent harder against the bar. He was maybe a few inches taller, a few pounds heavier than she; but the three unconscious and bleeding bodies at her feet, and the terrified look in the spacer's eyes, testified to who the person at risk actually was. His attacker looked to be as shade taller and thinner than Ivanova, dressed in a leather jacket with a million ISN patches on the back. Her shoulder-length dark brown curls had gotten drenched at some point during the fight, and Garibaldi could see that the woman's hands were covered with blood; hers or someone else's, it was impossible to tell. Zack was standing maybe ten feet behind the brawler, trying to reason with her and aiming a PPG at her head. A ring of onlookers and security guys stood about ten feet beyond him, most of them watching the scene with wary interest.
Garibaldi carefully picked his way through the shambles of the bar, ruefully impressed. The last time the place had looked this bad had been after Ivanova had gone on a bender, and evidently the woman who'd won the fight here was just as dangerous. His second hadn't tried to take her out yet for one obvious, good reason: she was holding a shard of glass pressed against the guy's throat, close enough to hurt, even though she hadn't punctured him yet. "That's all. Just tell me *why*. I don't get it."
"Ms. Channing, I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you why it's funny, if you'd just put the glass down," Zack said, inching closer. "We know you don't want to hurt anyone else."
"You're right." She swayed a bit, turning her head to blink at Zack and Garibaldi. Green-blue eyes sized them up and dismissed them, but didn't seem to contain any active hostility. "Hey," she said in greeting, before turning her attention back to her captive. "How's it going?"
"Not bad. How's it going with you?"
"Strange. Just ask him." She shook her victim a little by his collar, and he closed his eyes, swallowing shallowly. "He won't tell me why it's funny. It's weird."
"Won't tell you why what's funny?" Garibaldi asked, slowly moving to flank his second, raising his eyebrows at Zack as he passed him.
"She's a reporter with ISN, she's been on-station before," Allan whispered, not taking his eyes off her. "She was just being real quiet, drinking by herself, one of these guys said something to her, and then she went nuts. The bartender says she just started to tear the place apart."
"Why don't you tell me what he said, maybe I can explain it," Garibaldi suggested, easing his way over to lean against the bar.
"No, I want *him* to explain it," she growled, pressing the glass harder against the man's throat. A bright bead of blood welled up at the tip of the glass, then spilled and trailed down to her fingers. "If it's so funny, he can say *why* it's so funny. Unless it's not funny at all, right? Right," she answered herself. She glanced over at the Security Chief and whispered, "He's not human, you know. He isn't."
"What is he?" Garibaldi asked conversationally, taking another careful step forward. Channing, if that was her name, didn't seem to notice.
"He's a hyena," she hissed. "Laughing hyena!" She kicked him in the shin, probably injuring her toes more than his shin since she was wearing soft walking shoes, and cursed under her breath. "Laughing at nothing.... like his stupid laughing friends...." She hiccuped, wavered a bit, then tightened her grip on the man's collar again.
"I'm sorry I said it, I said I was sorry, I didn't mean it!" Her captive was sweating, almost whining with fear. "You're right, you're right, it isn't funny at all---"
"'S right." Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned closer to him, baring her teeth in a snarl. "So you won't be laughing any more, right, you stupid hyena? Jackal? No more giggles about all the dead Markab...."
"No, no, definitely not, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man whimpered.
"Jackal," the woman repeated, obviously liking the sound of the word. "You're a jackal. Jackals are horrible, horrible, evil----"
"Margo!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw a big guy with an ISN baseball cap shove his way to the front of the crowd. "Margo, put him down."
"Wally!" She almost turned around, then directed her attention back at the spacer. "I caught one, Wally. See? I got a jackal. We should skin it---"
"You're drunk," her friend said very gently, slowly moving forward to within a few feet of her. "He's not a jackal, he's just a stupid guy. Let him go. He said he was sorry."
"Not sorry enough...."
"Yeah, he is. I can tell."
"You can?" Channing's voice was sounding uncertain for the first time since Garibaldi walked in. "You're sure?"
"Uh-hunh. Let him go, Margo. You're too plastered to judge. And when you're too plastered, you let me make the call, right?"
"Yeahhh...." She glared at the man one last time, then let go of his collar, staggering backwards, the shard of glass still in her hand. He immediately stumbled away from the bar and into the crowd, making tracks for the elevator. The other ISN reporter stepped forward and took the glass out of the woman's hand very, very carefully, and placed it on the bar. Zack rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, then turned around and began dispersing the crowd.
"He *was* a jackal, Wally, he was..." Margo was vigorously shaking her head, her voice furious, her face screwing up with rage. The big guy looked apprehensive as Michael stepped forward, and Channing looked like she wanted to swing at him; only her friend's steady grip on her arms kept her from attacking someone else. At this distance he could see that the blood on her hands was at least partly her own, because several large cuts on her palms were still bleeding.
"I'm sorry, Chief, she's not usually like this, she hardly ever drinks, she's been under a lot of stress----"
"Let's take her down to MedLab, see about those cuts first. Then we'll talk about charges, okay?" Garibaldi blinked at the smell of alcohol on Channing when he got a little closer. "And maybe get her some oxy pills before we try to get any sense out of her."
"I don't *wanna* sober up," the ISN reporter protested loudly as Garibaldi and her friend helped her to the transport tube. "I'm not _nearly_ drunk enough. I'm still conscious, Wally, tell him... tell him I need to drink some more."
"You don't need any more at all, Snarl. " Wally shook his head, brushing wet curls out of her eyes. "You're plenty drunk enough for an entire production crew now."
"Awww... nooooo... I need, I need, I need to drink s'more. So I can sleep. Can't sleep." She slumped against her friend, shaking her head sadly. "Can't. I dream. I dream them, Wally. Jackals. Hyenas... vultures...."
"Where did you guys just get in from?" Michael asked as the transport doors opened, helping the big man support Channing as she stumbled out of the tube.
"Markab homeworld," Wally said shortly, and Garibaldi raised his eyebrows in understanding.
"Gotcha. Pretty bad, I take it."
"That's one word for it." The stark pain on the man's face reminded Garibaldi of the look on Lennier's face when he'd walked out of the Markab sanctuary. Only he and Delenn had been able to walk out. No one else within the compound survived.
"There were vultures there," Margo volunteered, her voice rising. "There were jackals... We got there, and everybody was still there. But they were all dead...." Her voice broke, and she shuddered. Wally's arm went around her as they finally made it into MedLab. "All gone. Dead civilization. Dead. Lost. And then the jackals came, and they were *taking* things...."
"I know, Margo. I know.... Some looters were there when we were," he explained to Garibaldi. "The Earth Alliance transports chased them off, they were small ships, but they'd still managed to take a lot of stuff from the bigger museums and the Markab Planetary Treasury---"
"Jackals. Vultures... just like us." Margo collapsed onto a gurney, and Stephen Franklin came over, his expression concerned as he began to run a diagnostic tool over her.
"What happened?" he asked, directing the question mostly at Garibaldi.
"Bar fight. Glass in her hands, there's probably still shards in there, and you might want to check her for concussion," Garibaldi replied, steadying her as she swayed on the gurney.
"Didn't become a reporter to report on *dead* things," Margo proclaimed, glaring at Franklin, trying to bat him away. "Dead things are the past, like what historians do... my mom could tell you about dead things.... If you wanted to hear. We report on living things, right, Wally?"
"Yeah, Margo, we do."
"_Living_ things. Not dead." She grimaced, her face screwing up again, her head swinging from side to side in exaggerated denial. "Vultures... we're turning into *vultures*, Wally. Taking pictures of the dead for broadcast... vultures... God, when did that happen?"
"We're not, Snarl. We're not." Wally put his arm around her and hugged her, stroking her hair. "Somebody has to do it, that's all."
"Hate it. Hate it...." Tears started running down her face, ugly, low sobs escaping her as Stephen gently coaxed her into lying down.
Garibaldi watched as Stephen gave the woman a sedative, then drew the other ISN reporter aside. "Listen.... Walter?"
"Yeah. Walter Salinski, sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner. Do you have to arrest Margo? I swear, nothing like this has ever happened before---"
The Security Chief pursed his lips, not liking what he had to do, but not really seeing a way around it; then he shook his head, thinking about what the two reporters must have seen on Markab. //Probably made our enclave look like a picnic by comparison....// "Look, your friend's in bad shape, and I can tell she's having a rough time. I'm going to leave her here with you and the doc; if you just make sure she shows up for a hearing before the ombuds tomorrow, I'll put in a plea for leniency, okay?"
"Thanks," Salinski said, heaving a sigh of relief. "She really _isn't_ like this, but..." He shrugged helplessly. "This is the first time I've seen her cry since we got this assignment. Margo doesn't like losing control. We had to document so much when we got there--- we were supposed to be back at Earth by now, but we had this layover... I know she hasn't slept in days, but I didn't know it had gotten this bad----"
"I know, I know. It's a bad situation. Just keep an eye on her, okay?"
"Definitely. Thanks, Chief."
"No problem." Garibaldi's link cheeped, and he grimaced, stepping out of MedLab as he hit it. "Garibaldi. What's up?"
September 11, 2259
Around 11am EST
Babylon 5 -- Paulie's
Margo was hideously embarrassed.
Wally wasn't really hassling her all that much, but he and Security Chief Garibaldi were both far too amused for her comfort. //God, when did I last drink so much?... years and years ago...// Her hands were bandaged, and luckily the knock on the head was only that, no concussion. But it was still awful to think of what she'd done, how far out of it she'd been, and the kind of consequences it could have had. The Ombuds had let her off with a fine and a community service detail, to be served off-station and reported back, given that she would be leaving Bab5 within a day or so. And then there was the hangover....
"You got off *so* easy, Margo."
"I know, I know..."
"If any of those guys had shown at the hearing, the Ombuds would've had to go harder on you." Garibaldi leaned back, listening to the red-headed singer on the small stage with obvious appreciation. "Lucky thing that they had other places to be." He quirked an eyebrow in the woman's direction, and she began to wrap up the song with a smile and a nod back.
"I know. I do know. I _never_ do this... tell him, Wally," Margo said, wincing slightly as she turned her head.
"She never does this," Walter agreed. "She's too much of a control freak." Margo swatted him on the arm just as the redhead joined them at their table.
"Hey, hey, hey," the singer said, settling herself in the chair next to Garibaldi, and shaking her head admonishingly at Margo, with a slight smile. "No blood gets spilled in Paulie's."
"Unless you're spilling it, right, Brat?"
"Shush, Garibaldi, I've been good this week -- no one maimed or otherwise injured, even when they deserved it. Bet you can't say the same."
The Chief grinned at the petite woman who was glaring at him like a small, fierce terrier confronting a lazy Doberman Pinscher; amusement and a tiny bit of amazement at the same time. "Sinjun Ross; Walter Salinski and Margo Channing. As you already guessed," he added wryly.
"Did you spill what I did to the entire station?" Margo demanded of Walter. "Or did you just save time and put in on the 'Net?"
"Gimme a break, Snarl, I've hardly had time---"
Sinjun gave a gurgle of hilarity and interrupted to save Walter. "Relax, he's innocent. Garibaldi spilled it. And I don't think the *entire* station has heard."
Channing glared at the Security chief, who spread his hand in feigned helplessness. "She asked, I told her, that's all. It's safer that way. If I didn't tell Sinjun, she'd just find out about it somewhere else."
Margo transferred her glare to Sinjun, who shrugged. "He speaks the truth. And he's ridiculously easy to torture if he holds out."
"Fine. Fine. Fine. My rep is now besmirched---" She blinked, refocused her eyes, then gave in an involuntary whimper as she turned her head again, "--from here to Proxima. Great. This is why I never drink. I want to report on the news, not make it!" She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, dropping her head into her hands as she did so.
Sinjun took pity on the hungover reporter. "Come on, Margo, Paulie's got something that'll fix you up. Can you make it to the bar? Or should we have someone carry you?"
"I can make it. With difficulty." She sighed, and staggered to her feet. "But only because it would be harder to get someone to carry me."
Wally and Garibaldi both opened their mouths to make a comment, but Margo silenced them with another glare, then trailed after Sinjun to the bar. Garibaldi turned to Walter, and said thoughtfully, "You know, I wasn't joking when I said your friend got off easy. I'm a little surprised, actually."
"Oh?" Walter frowned warily.
"Yeah, I expected those guys to be there, all set to press charges against Margo until she was compacted into the wall." The Security Chief leaned forward, smiling casually. "So. Did you bribe them, or blackmail them into going off-station?"
"I have no idea---"
"Come on, Salinski. I checked the station records; all four of them made tracks for Io a good six hours before Margo's hearing. And one of my guys mentioned seeing you in DownBelow as soon as you left MedLab."
Walter was silent a second, studying Garibaldi carefully. Then he grinned, his eyes creasing up in amusement. "Blackmail. I told 'em I had tape of Margo mopping the floor with them during the fight, and it would make good human interest for ISN's weekly entertainment feed."
"Uh-hunh." Garibaldi shook his head, his eyes rueful. "And do you actually *have* a tape of it?"
"Nope." Walter shrugged, taking a sip of his drink with a small smile. "But it's not like they knew that. Or like I couldn't've gotten it."
"Does Margo know?
Walter practically did a spit-take, choked, then got his breath back. "Are you kidding? She'd never let me hear the end of it if she thought I stuck my nose in. She's already feeling guilty and responsible enough as it is."
Garibaldi smothered a grin and took a sip of his drink. "I know someone like that--- and when she loses it, she could give Channing a run for her money in the destruction sweepstakes. So, how long have you and she...?" The Security Chief cocked his head toward the bar, and Walter stared at him blankly.
"Me and her... oh, no." Wally laughed, grinning widely. "Nahh, we're just buddies. I've got a girlfriend back on Earth. Margo's way too high-strung for me, and I'm too normal for her."
"Hunh. My mistake."
"So, you and Sinjun..."
"No no no. We're friends, same as you and Margo."
"So if I went over and asked her out, you wouldn't have a problem?" Wally asked, his face completely innocent and guileless.
"Don't do it." Garibaldi spoke so fast that Wally blinked, before smothering a grin. He smiled sheepishly, realizing how over-protective he sounded, probably, and shrugged. "You've got a girlfriend already. Right?"
"Yup. Good point. Never mind. Just a thought."
Sinjun somehow managed to clear two stools at the bar, apparently through sheer force of personality. Margo didn't analyze the technique, just sank gratefully down. It definitely wasn't because of any intimidation tactic; Sinjun barely came up to her shoulder, and looked like one of those pocket ballerinas on her childhood music boxes. The flowing emerald dress she wore contributed to the illusion, but there was nothing childish about the singer, despite her small size. Margo was feeling particularly scruffy sitting next to her.
Whatever it was about Sinjun that had cleared the space for them, she was glad of it. She let her head fall forward onto the bar, and whimpered under her breath again. "Nice bar. Nice cool bar," Margo commented, turning her head to look at the singer and wincing again. Why did the woman have to be wearing something that was such a bright green? Pretty, okay, yeah, but it hurt her eyes...
Sinjun leaned over the bar (a neat trick, given her lack of height) and called -- more loudly than strictly necessary, Margo thought -- to the large man behind the bar, "Paulie! We need a morning-after special here."
"A wha?" Margo closed her eyes. "You know, if I just slump here for a while, I'll be fine. Really..."
The bartender waved a hand in acknowledgement, and Sinjun settled back down on her stool. "Trust me, Paulie has been taking care of drunks for a very long time. You'll like this."
Margo sighed and opened her eyes, letting her chin rest on the bar. A tall glass of ---something, something green, with apricot streaks--- was placed in front of her, and she raised her eyes (painfully, oh, so painfully) to the person who'd placed it in front of her.
"Drink," he ordered her. A round-faced man with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth looked down at her with clear grey eyes and more of the same mockery that Garibaldi and Wally had been dishing out.
Forcing herself, Margo sat up, and sipped a few mouthfuls of the concoction. It did not taste good; but within a few seconds, some of the nausea was fading already. She gulped more, put the glass down, and stared at the bartender in wonder. "You're Santa Claus, aren't you?"
Sinjun started giggling. "Shh, don't tell, you'll blow his cover."
"Ah." Margo nodded wisely. "Well, sir, your secret identity is safe with me---"
Paulie chomped on his cigar and looked at both of them with disgust. Without deigning to respond, he stalked back down to the other end of the bar. Sinjun almost fell off her barstool laughing.
Margo grinned, winced, decided that the laugh was worth it, and chuckled as she sipped the rest of her drink. "You were right. I *do* like it. I swear, I'm never going to put myself in a position to need it again, though..."
Sinjun sobered. "Sounds like you deserved a pretty good bender. Garibaldi said you were on Markab."
"Yup." Margo took another big gulp, and tried to clamp down on her emotions again; but she was too damned tired, achey, sore... and it hurt too much. "Had to make sure the public's right to know was covered, right? So everyone's going to get to see everything they want of the last of what was left of the planet... courtesy of ISN, me, and Wally."
She shook her head, the bitterness surfacing again. "People can be such bastards, you know that? Have to strip everything from people who can't fight back. Even their dignity," she added in a low voice.
Paulie came over long enough to deliver a drink to Sinjun, who stared into it without picking it up. "Was there anything left?" she asked quietly.
"Of the people?" Margo shook her head, toying with the glass. "No. No survivors. At all." She took another sip. "I wasn't ready for that, to be honest. I thought there would be *someone*... but the only living things on Markab were their pets." She took another sip of her drink, seeing the world in front of her eyes, instead of the bar she was in. "There were still bits of them left, though." She stared straight ahead, a bitter smile forming on her face. "It's funny. You think you're nothing like your parents, and yet... the Markabs' lives were there. I could figure out how they lived, from what was left behind. There was just so damn little of it..."
Sinjun swallowed, looking vaguely ill. "And... the raiders? Human? Centauri?"
"The raiders---I dunno," Margo focused on Sinjun again, shaking her head regretfully. "Some were Human. But not all of them. We didn't get a very good look at them. They might have been a mix. Definitely at least one Drazi ship."
The reporter was silent a second, then said quietly, "That's what made it so much worse than usual. That they were *all* dead; that their lives were disappearing around them while the scavengers wrecked the place... and I couldn't do anything to stop it. It was all over."
Sinjun sighed and shook her head. "Damn. Nothing like disaster to bring out the scum of the universe."
"I've been wondering... if I'm any better. Making a profit off of death. Christ." Margo closed her eyes, and covered her face with her hands. "Vultures. No wonder no one respects the press."
Beside her, she could almost see Sinjun hesitate. Then the other woman's hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. "Not vultures. Not always." She sighed again. "It's important that people see what can happen, that they understand about consequences. If the Markab had let Stephen and the others help them, if they'd given us a *chance*..." Her voice trailed off, tightening with frustration. "They're dead, and you're right, there's nothing you can do. Except try to keep it from happening again. Not a fun job, but no less important."
Margo almost laughed, but it came out as a thready cough. She let her hands fall, and took a deep breath. "Maybe." Margo frowned, thinking. "Dr. Franklin was working with them?"
Sinjun nodded. "That's what I heard. Hell, he and the Markab doctor he was working with came up with a cure, but it was too damn late."
"Now *that's* a damn shame. If only..." Margo blinked, her mind connecting what Sinjun said with the images she'd had to record two days ago. "What a _waste_. That it could help, but it wasn't found in time---" She tilted her glass back and forth, as the idea managed to finish making itself clear in her brain. "Do you think he'd be willing to talk to me about it? If I asked?"
Sinjun cocked her head to the side curiously. "Maybe. Depends on his mood. He's... pretty bitter about the whole thing." Her eyes moved past Margo and she smiled slightly. "In fact, you could ask him."
Turning around wasn't as much of an effort as it had been fifteen minutes before. When Margo faced the room again, she picked out the doctor fairly quickly, and waved to him, motioning him over to the bar. He glanced at his date, said something to her, then wandered across the room to join them.
"Well, and how is my favorite patient today?" he greeted them cheerfully enough.
Sinjun pouted. "I thought I was your favorite patient."
Franklin smiled at her. "Hey, you haven't been in MedLab in weeks. I had to move on."
Sinjun's pout deepened. "Fickle. Lead a girl on, then...."
Margo grinned at the byplay before taking another sip of the hangover remedy. "I'm among the living. Although, if you'd given me this stuff," she held the glass up for him to see, "I would have been feeling better *much* faster."
Franklin leaned over and sniffed suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Do I want to know?" Margo asked Sinjun.
The redhead shrugged and looked amsued. "No idea. And I'm afraid to ask Paulie."
"Hmmm... I should cite him for practicing without a license."
"Speaking of practicing medicine," Margo said carefully, "Sinjun was just telling me that you and one of the Markab doctors found a cure for the Draffa plague."
Franklin lifted an eyebrow at the other woman. "News spreads."
Sinjun shrugged again, looking very expressionless. "It's a small station."
"For all the good it does them now, yes." Franklin shook his head. "I hope that it does help the few survivors, as well as the Pak'mar'a, but all I can think of is all the people who didn't make it..."
"Yeah. I know." Margo yanked herself back from the edge of depression again, and determinedly continued, "Which is why I'm hoping you'll consent to a quick, quick interview for ISN."
Stephen studied her for a moment, then Sinjun, his expression opaque. "Oh, really?" "Not my idea. But it couldn't hurt. Margo was just on the Markab homeworld," she said with meaningful emphasis.
"Look, Doctor Franklin, I have to do *something* about what I saw on Markab. None of those people can tell me their stories; nobody there is left to warn anyone else, or explain why it's such a waste and tragedy." She took a deep breath. "You can. If you don't want to, I'll understand, but---"
"Is that why you went on a bender last night?"
"Ummm... yes. Partly." Margo winced and took another gulp of her drink, feeling the urge to sink down beneath the bar again.
Franklin raised both eyebrows consideringly, then said, "I'd like to see the interview before it airs."
Margo blinked, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I can do that."
"And if it still looks too much like exploitation..."
Sinjun winced but stayed silent and Margo interrupted him quickly. "Believe me, that is the *last* thing I want to do. If if looks like that, I'll smash it myself."
"Okay. You've got yourself an interview." Stephen stood up, adding, "I'm back in MedLab early in the morning, so why don't you come by then?"
"Great. I'll get the editing done before I leave; you can look it over by ten, probably, if we do this at say---eight?"
"Works for me." Stephen nodded goodbye to both of them, shook his head ruefully at the expression on Margo's face as she gulped down more of the morning-after drink, then rejoined his date. Some part of her inside, like a fist that had been clenched too hard, started to loosen and ease now that she had a plan and a direction. It wasn't enough; it would never be enough for all the people who'd died, all the nameless dead she'd photographed and recorded on Markab... but it was something.
Sinjun looked sideways at her, with just a hint of smug satisfaction behind her hazel eyes. "Feeling better?"
She could have been referring to the hangover or the guilt; Margo answered both. "Yeah, I am." More relaxed than she'd been in days, she leaned her chin on one hand and looked over at the singer inquiringly. "So.... Brat?"
Sinjun snorted and took a hefty swig of her drink. "Snarl?" she returned, in exactly the same tone.
Margo rolled her eyes---which thankfully didn't hurt anymore---and jerked her chin toward Walter. "Partly his fault. Partly the fault of my first boss, who nicknames everyone within a day of meeting them."
Sinjun grinned. "Did you deserve that particular nickname?"
"At the time.... yes." Margo grimaced, and then chuckled in remembrance. "I was bailing Walter and said boss out of jail at 3 a.m. in Bangkok. Never go to jail in the middle of the night in Bangkok if you can help it. The guards make the most *interesting* offers---"
"I'll keep that in mind," Sinjun answered with a perfectly straight face, "and it can't be any worse than the offers they make on Mars Colony." She looked over at Salinski with a frown. "How did Wally end up in jail in Bangkok?"
"It was Harry's fault. Our former boss thought that a little breaking-and-entering into the house of the girlfriend of a member of the Chinese ruling committee was a good idea, and he needed Walter to stand lookout."
The redhead blinked, then started giggling helplessly again. "Oh my god. And Wally went along with this?"
"It might have been worth it if they'd had the right house, but..." Margo grinned, chuckling some more, feeling her mood lighten. "Wally thought Harry was God at the time. He learned better fast, though."
"I *must* meet Harry," Sinjun declared, still laughing.
"If Harry meets you, he will probably propose within five minutes," Margo informed her. "Are you sure you're up for that?"
Sinjun rolled her eyes. "I average three proposals a day, and that's not even counting the indecent propositions. No problem."
Margo laughed aloud at that, realizing that someone as feminine and helpless-looking as Sinjun probably *would* get a lot of attention on Babylon 5; especially with all the flyboys around. There were times she was very glad she was taller-than-average and sarcastic-looking to boot. "I suppose Garibaldi scares off the ones that don't get the message."
"He's been known to." Sin made a face. "Between him and Zack sometimes, it's a wonder I have a social life at all."
Margo frowned, putting her glass down and trying to sort that out. "Wait. I thought you and Garibaldi were together. And who's Zack?"
"Zack is Garibaldi's second, he's... Wait." Sinjun blinked, processing the questions in reverse order. "Me and the Chief? Together? Oh, no! No way. Uh-uh."
"Oh." Margo blinked, then narrowed her eyes, registering the intensity of the denial as well as the way Sinjun and the Security Chief had acted around each other. Her mouth twitched. "So, you're not interested in him?"
"No," Sinjun laughed, without looking Garibaldi's way, Margo noticed. "We're friends -- he hangs out here and i give him trouble, it keeps us both entertained. Oh, and he cooks." She shrugged. "Friends."
"Friends," Margo repeated. "Very _good_ friends."
"Friends," Sinjun said firmly.
"Okay." Channing smiled agreeably at Sinjun, throttling back her amusement at the younger woman's expression. "So, you won't mind if I go over there and make a very forward pass at him? He *has* been so nice about all this---"
Sinjun's face went blank with surprise, then she carefully controlled her expression. "Be my guest," she said evenly. "Enjoy yourself. If you hurt him, I'll kill you." She returned to her drink with studied casualness. "But he's hung up on someone, so I don't know how much luck you'll have."
Margo kept her face immobile with a major effort. //I wonder how Garibaldi's sweetheart deals with your protective streak...// "Too bad. I hope she's cool. Does she return his interest?" she asked, rampant curiosity her only excuse for enquiring.
"Not as far as I know. And God knows Garibaldi isn't exactly subtle." Sinjun shrugged. "I don't really know her, but she seems to be a class act. Who knows what she thinks."
"Hunh." Margo decided to leave the subject there; given Sinjun's erratic reactions, pushing might hit some other buttons. Obviously, she didn't think much of Garibaldi's crush, if she was unwilling to say anything about her. "Well, I hope it works out. Garibaldi's one of the good guys and there aren't enough of those around. He deserves someone special."
Sinjun relaxed slightly. "Yes, he does. He's a sweetheart. A pain in the butt, but a sweetheart."
"Pain in the butt... well, it's a fair tradeoff for someone who *has* such an excellent butt," Margo countered, leaning in her barstool a little to check out Garibaldi again.
Sinjun, caught in the middle of a sip, sputtered into her glass. "Garibaldi? I never... Well...." Margo gave her a sideways look, and Sinjun gave up. "Yes, it's almost worth it sometimes. The man does do good things for that uniform."
"And the feminine pulse rate," Margo sighed appreciatively, then grinned.
"And if you *ever* tell him I said that....."
"My lips are sealed. Paulie is not Santa Claus, and you never said anything about Michael Garibaldi." Margo motioned the bartender back over. "You never did explain about Brat," she added.
Sinjun rolled her eyes yet again. "See aforementioned comment about pain in the butt. He's all of thirteen years older than I am, and he likes to remind me of that fact. Often. And publically."
"Ahhhh..." A lot became clear with that comment. "Why do the good ones *also* always have to have twisted senses of humor?"
"Would we enjoy them so much if they didn't?" Sinjun pointed out.
Margo thought of Jake, then shook her head ruefully. "Well... probably not." She started laughing again. "And what does that say about *us*? Never mind, don't answer that."
"What about you?" Sinjun asked. "Someone waiting at home? Wally's nice, but he doesn't seem quite like your type."
"No, he isn't." Margo leaned back against the bar, relaxing even more. "He's my teddybear, and the baby brother I would've asked for--- but we're way too different." She grinned. "Besides, his taste in women runs to the petite, pretty type. Like you."
Sinjun laughed. "Oh, great. Can I expect a proposal from him as well?"
Channing shook her head, smiling slightly. "Lucky for you, no. He's got a girlfriend right now. Granted, not the one *I* would've picked out for him, but... you're safe."
Sinjun pouted again. "Well, damn."
"Otherwise he would be offering marriage. He's so damn susceptible." Margo's expression became diabolical. "Should I tell him to ask you out? I'm sick of Rikki, you're much smarter than she is---"
"No, no, no, I never poach," Sinjun waved her off. "Although it's sort of tempting...."
"Good policy." //Specially when you're tangled up with someone else.// Margo turned around and asked Paulie for a soft drink, wondering what time it was.
"So, you never did tell me about the males you've got languishing away for you Earthside."
Margo tried to laugh, but it came out sounding wistful. "Ohh, not that many. Only one, really. And he's not Earthside."
Sinjun looked at her over her drink. "Do you want to talk about him, or should I gracefully let the subject drop?"
"Oh, no. No. It's just... I can go on about him. And on and on and.." Margo swallowed, shook her head. "Let's see, what's today? Thursday?"
Sinjun thought. "I think so. Hard to keep track, sometimes."
"Yeah. No sunrises in space." Margo calculated it mentally, then shook her head. "He's somewhere in the vicinity of Narn right now, I think. Covering another story." She took a sip of her cola. "It's been--- seven weeks, three days, and... nine hours since I last saw him. And it's going to be at least four more weeks before I see him again." She fell silent a second, then laughed softly. "Never enough time, that's all."
"How much time is enough?" Sinjun asked, her eyes haunted, her smile turning sad.
"More than this." Margo groaned, then started laughing again. "We're perfect for each other. Except we're never together. He's funny, sexy, smart, warm... and he's on the other side of the damn galaxy. Like I said, I can go on and on... but it's just as much me as it is him. I'm never Earthside either. Someday," she said softly. "Someday we'll get it right."
Sinjun lifted her glass. "Here's to someday, then."
Margo clinked her glass with hers, and then took a deep drink. "To someday." She cocked her head, then lifted her glass again, "And to you finding a pain in the ass of your very own."
"Oh, joy. Is that a toast or a curse?"
Margo whooped, then started giggling when she saw Paulie eye them warily from his end of the bar. "I suppose it depends on your perspective..."
Garibaldi and Wally watched the two women warily, as their expressions seemed to change between laughing hysterically and deciding the fate of the universe.
"You know," Garibaldi said after appropriate thought, "those two are getting a long just *way* too well."
"I always get nervous when Snarl starts looking that intense," Wally muttered, shaking his head. "Usually means we're going to get in trouble---"
"Yup. The Brat's the same way," Garibaldi agreed.
"So, should we separate them? For the sake of the the station? And possibly the Earth Alliance?"
"Hell, for the sake of the *universe*."
Luckily, they didn't have to; Sinjun looked at the clock, then hopped off her barstool with some comment to Margo that had her laughing again, then made her way to the stage.
Sinjun began singing and Margo just let herself drift, thinking of the story with Dr. Franklin tomorrow morning, and the last of the editing that she and Wally had to do, and Sinjun and Michael Garibaldi; and Jake.
Sinjun's voice curled around the song like smoke, recalling the last time she'd seen Jake, and said good-bye; and how long it would be before she saw him again. She would have given a month's supply of crystals to have him there, right at that moment, to hold her and say he understood. That he got it, that he knew what she was going through....
I'd sigh for you, I'd cry for you
I'd tear the stars down from the sky for you
And if that isn't love, it'll have to do
Until the real thing comes along~
But more than that, she just wanted to see him again, to be sure that he was alive and well.
On to Part 1
Back to Freedom Network
Back to Babylon 5.14159
Based on characters and situations created by
J. Michael Strazynski and Babylonian Productions.
Babylon 5 and associated characters and places are used without permission, for entertainment purposes only.