In Places Where Death Alone Treads.

In the day, it was all right.  She could squash down the feelings of guilt and uselessness; after eight months she had become quite adept at it.  The slightest hint of any emotion would be quickly pounced on by her mind and determinedly chased into her heart which was locked away.  More than ever, she refused to speak to her heart.  Feelings were the enemy.  If she let them out, she was convinced they would destroy her.

And during the nights, they almost did.  Constant nightmares, almost every night, of her years spent on Babylon 5.

The worst nightmares were always of Marcus.  In so many he was screaming to her, telling her that he loved her and why didn't he let her in?  Why did she shy away?

These were the nightmares that caused her to awaken with the horrible feeling of guilt in her heart.  Invariably, she would push the thoughts away and concentrate on the mundane tasks, like standing up, dressing and eating.  Purely mechanical things to occupy her time, to prove that she was still alive.  Barely.

Every so often, a message would catch up with her.  Mostly, they were dry reports from Earthforce trying to keep her updated with the latest happenings within the government.  These Susan deleted without a moment's thought.  She realised that it would probably be useful to know these things, especially if she was going to return, but at that point in time, she didn't really care.

After only four weeks of captaincy, Susan had realised that whatever she was looking for, it wasn't her own ship.  Sure, the idea had been very nice, the fact that she was commanding one of the most advanced Earth ships ever built, and had her own crew and all the glory that came with being a Captain.  She had believed it would help her get over the pain.  She had been wrong.

Burying herself in the work hadn't done Susan, or her crew, much good at all.  She could tell that she wasn't the captain they deserved, she was still too screwed up inside to exude the loyalty that such a role demanded.  A year's leave of absence seemed to be the best option for all, and Earthforce was more than happy to grant it to her.  There were still those in positions who thought she should have been booted out of the force right along with Sheridan.  Perhaps they were right.

Her title meant very little to her, anyway.  As she wandered from world to world, she was merely Ivanova.  She didn't allow herself to be called Susan, because that brought back painful memories of the friends she had left behind and...lost.

It all came down to that, the loss.  Her whole damn life had been full of losing people, and after Marcus - well, Susan just couldn't take it anymore.  It was safer for her to leave than stay and watch them be taken from her, as they inevitably would be.  It was safest not to care at all.

If only the nightmares would stop.  Susan sighed, and pushed her hands through her hair before resting her arms morosely upon the bar counter.  The atmosphere was seedy but she had seen worse.  A bartender scurried back and forwards before her, but Susan didn't do anything to attract his? its? attention.  She squinted in the thick atmosphere, trying to work out just which species it was.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder.  Despite the deep shadows under her eyes and the gauntness of her body, Susan Ivanova was still quite striking to look at.

"Excuse me," the being tried again.  Susan ignored whoever it was, having long ago discovered that silence was the best weapon.  "You are Susan Ivanova, are you not?"

Now she wanted to groan.  That was all she needed, another person asking her for an autograph.  Hell, where did a person have to go to become anonymous in this galaxy?  Resigning herself to her fate, Susan turned around.  A Drazi stood there, anxiously rocking itself back and forward.  "I have a message for you," he began.

Susan immediately held up her hands.  "Look, I've told your government a thousand times, I do not want to be involved in any more diplomatic functions!"  Especially after the last time, she whispered grimly under her breath.

"No, no, it's not from us," the Drazi quickly reassured her.  "It's from your friend, the one you left behind at Buenos Paradise."

Buenos Paradise?  Oh, she'd passed through about a week ago, if she recalled correctly.  Susan couldn't remember anything distinctive about the place; all the worlds had long ago blurred together into an endless mish-mash of murky colours.  She stared hard at the Drazi, not able to remember any friends she might have made in such a place.

"Well?"  Susan held out her hand.

"There is no crystal," the Drazi replied.  "Only this:  He is coming for you."

"What?"

"That's the message.  He is coming for you."

"Who?"

"Your friend."

Susan stared straight at the Drazi.  "Let me get two things straight.  One - I don't have a friend.  And two - I don't believe a word of what you said."

The Drazi merely shrugged.  "I am only a messenger," he muttered indignantly and then slipped away from the bar into the growing crowd of dancers.

Susan sunk her head into her hands and winced.  The music seemed to be getting louder by the second, and it was some esoteric tune that didn't follow any traditional form of song.  It was making Susan's headache even worse.  And now there was a senseless message from a Drazi to bother her.  He was probably drunk, she rationalised, drunk and inventing any excuse to talk to her.  Pathetic, really.

Pushing her chair back from the bar, Susan decided that enough was enough - she wasn't able to numb the pain in thiis kind of atmosphere.  There was no point in trying to sleep, either, so Susan wandered outside and into the night.

The air was balmy, with a hint of flowers on the wind.  Susan sneezed.  That was why she hated planets sometimes - too many damn things she was allergic to.  She began to march down the street, anxious to get away from the gaudy lights and pounding beat.  Her stride was quick and strong, implanted by years of military experience.

Soon, Susan was alone with her own thoughts.  She vaguely noticed an ocean in the distance and two moons in slow orbit above.  Everything was so still and quiet this far away from the spaceport - it was amazing how quickly signs of civilisation vanished into untamed countryside.  Susan found herself wondering which planet she was actually on; it couldn't have been colonised for long.

The wind continued to rustle past her, billowing out her black cloak. Susan didn't even want to wonder why she'd chosen it to wear, her choice in clothing had become instinctive rather than conscious thought.  Black covered her, shrouded her in its dark veil, an echo from a prophetic dream years before.

Susan shivered.  Despite the relative stillness, her mind was not at peace.  Fragments of conversations echoed in her head, an endless circle of pain and regrets.

"Play with your dolls...."

She increased her stride, trying to escape the hauntings.  She was climbing now, following a barely-there path up the side of a hill overlooking the ocean.

"I promise I'll be back...."

Savagely, Susan kicked a rock and heard it skitter over the edge and down to the ocean below.  Promises didn't mean a thing.  Anyone who relied on a promise needed to have their head examined.

"You'll never know...."

She skidded to a stop.  Where the hell had that one come from?  Staring out at the ocean, Susan shuddered.  It had been Marcus's voice.  A voice that she couldn't escape, no matter what she did.  No matter where she went.  Because she was guilty and she had killed him and she was never going to escape that fact.

"I'm sorry!" Susan found herself yelling out into the ocean as she stood on the edge of the cliff-face.  "I'm sorry I never let you in, I'm sorry I killed you!"

Her words echoed across the ocean, the wind blowing them back in her face, but no one heard.  No one.  In this desolate place, Susan Ivanova was completely alone.  And she knew it.

There was no ending to the grief.  There would be no end to the loneliness.  A strange calm came over Susan as she realised these things.  She was doomed.  From the moment she was born, she had been cursed, first through fate and then the more hideous revelation that she, too, was a telepath like her mother.

Only one option remained, one final solution to end the torment. She looked down at the waves savagely pounding the cliffs.  She could fly if she wanted to, fly and end it all.  All it required was one little step and the pain, the constant pain she was so tired of, would end forever.

Susan lifted her arms and let the wind soar through her.  She breathed deeply, her last breath on this warm, kinetic night.  She was ready to fly, fly with her eyes open and finally know peace.  She took the fatal step forward....

...and a chorus of voices screamed through her mind.  "WAIT!"

She stumbled.  A loose rock was all it took for Susan to fall backwards, away from the edge, safe and as mad as hell.  Someone had invaded her mind and spoken to her.  "Who are you?" she mentally shouted. A single voice this time, one she did not know, replied.

"Do you want to die, Susan Ivanova?"

"That's none of your damn business," she shot back quickly.

"Yes, but what are you dying for?"

That made her stop.  She had been prepared to die many times over, but always for a cause, for the greater good, and in many cases, for the fate of the galaxy.  But this time...she was done with all of that.  She was tired of it all.

"Well?" the voice asked.

"That's none of your business either, and get the hell out of my mind!"

"As you wish," it replied and faded.  Susan reached for the voice—whoever it was must have been an extremmely strong telepath—but it was gone and she had no idea who had invaded her privacy so rudely.  Only a faint after-image of unknown calls that had some purpose of keeping her from her death remained.  And the direction the call had come from....

Susan narrowed her eyes.  The spaceport.  Someone, or some ones, were there.  Beings who wanted her to live, or at least they thought they could control her destiny.  Determined to prove them wrong, Susan got to her feet and shot one last longing look at the cliff before striding back to the spaceport.  She had been so close, but peace would have to wait.  Susan suspected had a 'friend' from Buenos Paradise to meet.

The noise from the bar was just as loud as she recalled it when she stepped inside the door.  Obscure music mingled with even more obscure alien tongues, and as she surveyed the crowd of people, Susan wondered just how was she supposed to find the Drazi who had warned her earlier, much less someone whose appearance she didn't have a clue about.

A movement towards the side of the crowd caught her attention.  Someone slipping into the shadows, a figure she could barely make out, and yet there was a feeling...almost as if she were being drawn towards him.  And she knew it was a him.  Susan stepped forward just as all hell broke loose.

An inebriated patron leaned across the bar and forcibly pulled the bartender from its secure locality and threw it into the centre of the dancing crowd.  With an inhuman wail, the bartender landed on several other drunk patrons and within moments, a fight had broken out.  Susan ducked as a flying glass came her way, watching with amused resignation as adversaries faced each other while the bartender scuttered away and the fight instigator slumped into a drunken stupor.

There seemed to be two distinct sides to the battle and an army of spectators.  One swarthy man picked up another and heaved him towards Susan.  She reacted instantly by striding out of the way, closer towards the figure which had attracted her attention.

Something slammed in to her, hard.  She whirled and found the leering face of a Drazi.  "Going somewhere?" he asked before someone yanked his shoulder roughly around and pounded him in the face.  Susan had only a moment to breathe easily before she realised that she was probably the next target.  She jumped into the shadows and then noticed that the stranger had entered the brawl and that her predator had just unsheathed a long, and wicked looking, knife.

It was instinctive.  Susan saw the flash of the knife, saw the lunge towards the figure dressed in a cloak (a Ranger outfit?) and threw herself in between the pair, ready to fight.  She spun sideways, aiming a kick at the assailant when everything went wrong.

As the dagger plunged deep into her side, a revelation came over Susan.  The mysterious voice - it had been right.  It wasn't her place to step off a cliff for the hell of it, she had to die for something, even something as small as saving another one's life.  This was her final purpose.

Images swam before Susan's eyes.  She could dimly sense the horrified gasp that went through the crowd—no one had intended for someone to get killed during the altercation.  And then strong arms caught her as she swayed, picking her up, cradling her like a child.

"It's all right..." she heard the voice.  Dimly, she realised it was the one who had contacted her earlier, and the one in the cloak that she had saved.  Of course, it all made sense now.  Her destiny was being fulfilled.  "I'm a doctor, I can help her...."

The crowds parted as she was carried through the door, outside, beneath the two full moons.  They were tinged with red, the colour of blood, or perhaps it was only Susan's own blood roaring in her veins and pulsating, precious drop by drop, through the hole in her side.

Away from the lights she was carried, away from the noise and the revellers.  Susan tried to see the face of her rescuer but her head wouldn't move that way, or her eyes wouldn't focus properly, or maybe it was just too dark and foggy.  She was so tired, so ready to slip away and escape the haze of pain.

"Soon, everything will be all right," the voice promised and laid her on the grass in the park beyond a dark alley.  "It will all be over and you can be at peace."

"At peace..." Susan echoed happily, before his words penetrated her consciousness.  Wasn't this person a doctor, wouldn't he try to save her?  Or maybe that was just all part of the plan.

He was standing above her, gently reaching down to touch her cheek.  "Don't be afraid, Susan Ivanova.  I have followed you for a long time.  I know you seek death.  But I could not allow your soul to pass into oblivion, no, you are a bright flame which must be preserved forever."  And even before he removed his hood, Susan knew what he was.

A soul hunter.

She tried to get up but he pushed her down, firmly, laying one hand on her side.  "The flow is strong, my Susan Ivanova.  Your time is limited, do not fight the darkness now.  Embrace it, as you always have!"

"Embrace the dark?" she questioned weakly.  "Yes, but not like this, I don't want to be locked away...."

Her protests fell on deaf ears.  The soul hunter busied himself with his machine, aligning it so that the beam of light was positioned above Susan's chest.  "I can see more of you now," he whispered, reverently holding up a glass ball.  "I could feel your quest for death, but now I can see it, I see how it has consumed you!  The other does not wish it but you have subdued all objections into oblivion.  You will make a wonderful addition, so single-minded, so passionate.  Yes, Susan Ivanova, I could not let you go."

"No..." she finally protested.

"You're coming closer," intoned the soul hunter.  Susan could feel her heart slowing with every passing second, the pulsating beat of life slowly being extinguished...

...and now she did not want it.  Not to end the pain, not to silence the terrors of the night, not even to purge her guilt and the knowledge that she was doomed.  The soul hunter was stealing her soul and every part of Susan that was still alive screamed, "No!"

"Fight," came the whisper from her soul.  She stood up, holding one hand tight over the wound in her side and staring at the soul hunter.  He was a telepath, but then, so was she.  She found herself imagining Marcus, his strength and courage that she had seen him use a thousand times, and projected it through her mind like an intense beam of light.  The grim determination, the stubbornness, the will to never give up and fight for what he believed in.

At that point in time, Susan believed in life.  And she showed it to the soul hunter, showed it so hard that he keeled over with pain as he clutched his mind.  The machine toppled, having been stolen its focus, and Susan was able to escape.  Half running, half stumbling as she was doubled over with pain, Susan reached for the lights of the spaceport, all the while aware of her heart beating.  Her heartbeat. His heartbeat.

She'd been given the gift of life, and now she wanted to live.

"Captain Susan Ivanova, of Earthforce," stated the doctor.

"I thought I recognised her!" enthused the younger medical technician as he administered a scan over her body.  Lifesigns were now stable—they had given her a huge blood transfuusion and thankfully, her body had accepted it well.  For the moment, she was asleep, her unconscious state had ended some time ago however the doctor thought it pertinent to give her a sedative and keep her asleep for a while longer yet.

"She's going to be pretty sore when she eventually wakes up," continued the doctor.  "I want you to monitor her, see if she's in too much pain."

"Right," affirmed the technician.  "Is there someone we can contact—next-of-kin...?"

Looking up from the personnel record, the doctor shook her head.  "No, no one.  Seems like her family's all dead and there aren't any personal contacts recorded except for an outdated Babylon 5 crew listing naming a Captain Sheridan."

The technician was awed.  "President Sheridan - wow.  You think we should contact him?  I mean, they did used to work together and I heard that he was the one who got her promoted so fast.  Hey," he said as if a sudden idea had dawned on him, "how close do you think they were?"

"Pardon?" quickly responded the doctor.

"Surely you heard the rumours that used to get out about Ivanova and Sheridan and their conspiracy to control Babylon 5 together.  Plus there's the fact that he kept promoting her—do you think they were, you know...."

The doctor shot the technician a look that would have frozen ice.  "It's none of our concern.  I expect professionalism from you, mister. Monitor the patient and notify me if there are any changes.  I'll see to contacting Earthforce."

Chagrined, the technician nodded.

Susan was sleeping peacefully.  She knew nothing but comforting serenity, a far cry from that which had plagued her for so long.  She had decided to live and in doing so, her mind was at rest, helped along by the sedative she'd been given and her body's own reaction to the healing.

Yet as the quiet hours of the night, and the next day passed, the drugs eventually wore off.  And Susan began to remember.  She saw the soul hunter leering evilly above her, she felt the invasion of her mind, she remembered what he had said.

And one enigmatic phrase kept coming back to her, words that permeated every dream she had, until finally she could do nothing but crumble under the onslaught.

"...the other does not wish it..."

And the two voices shouted in warning when there had only been one soul hunter, they haunted her, whispering in her waking nightmare that she wasn't alone, there was someone else who needed her to stay alive.

As the realisation dawned over her, Susan's eyes snapped open.  She was alone, in a small medical bay, and it was night.  Dark.  Only the small blinking lights on her monitoring devices betrayed the fact that Susan was in a place created by sentient hands.

And the voices, the constant whispering, it hadn't departed with her ordeal, if anything, the noise had become worse.  "Stop it," Susan hissed, telling herself over and over that she wasn't insane.  "Stop it!"

There was no cessation.  It was the same story as it had been for the hundreds of nights before, the nightmare giving way to wakefulness in which the torture did not depart and she was never alone, not even in her own head.

She found herself, inexplicably, thinking of Marcus.  And of the one who did not want her to die.  And of the nightmare and the screaming and she just wanted to be at peace again, only that was never going to happen unless she opened the gateway to her heart but she couldn't do that, because she was so very, very afraid of what she would find in there....

"Listen."  The whispers were still there, still in her head, growing louder and louder with every passing moment.  Susan lifted her hands to her ears in agony.  "Open your heart and listen!"

She couldn't take it any more.  "Okay!" she finally burst out.  "Okay, damn you, I will listen!"  She took a deep breath, trembling on the point of revelation.  The whispers reached a crescendo, and then she exhaled.  Opening her mind, her heart, with every particle of air that passed through her lips, mentally steeling herself for the pain she knew had to come.  It was silent.

And then—

"Hello Susan," said the voice.