in my dreams we are awake (babylon 5 | susan/talia)

[fiachairecht]

in my dreams we are awake. babylon 5, susan/talia. recovery can start in the most unexpected of places. 735w, rated t.

Before today, Talia would have thought that no one could recover from the sort of scan Kelsey and Bester had just done on her. None of the test scans she had undergone in the Academy — scans she had had to block or at least resist to the best of her ability in order to pass her exams — had come remotely close to this. It felt as if they had simply walked into her mind, ripped away anything that didn't concern them, and tossed it back in a careless jumble when they were done.

On second thought, maybe she wasn't meant to survive it at all.

She steps back, reeling, wondering dimly how unprofessional it would be to just collapse on the floor and not move for a decade or so. Very, probably, but even forming that thought is too exhausting now. She reaches out for the desk to try to anchor herself back in the physical world, finds cool glass and warm fingers pressing against her hand instead. Talia looks up, expecting Sinclair — he's always been surprisingly kind — but she finds Susan's blue eyes instead.

Susan, who has no reason to care for her; Susan, who has made it clear that in fact she doesn't care for her. Susan who is staring at her with something that she doesn't dare hope is a strange mixture of pity and pride. She lets her fingers linger a second too long against Susan's as she gratefully takes the glass anyway. Bester raises an eyebrow, but Sinclair's righteous fury thankfully preempts any comment he might have had.

The rest of the meeting passes behind the rainbow veil of a post-scan migraine. Talia thinks that the fact that she's not curled up in a ball on the floor should qualify her for some sort of medal. Half-formed thoughts flit underneath the surface of her mind: she should be fighting back, defending Jason, protesting her treatment, thanking Susan, who doesn't hate her or maybe just hates the Psi Cops more.

She feels steadier when they're finally dismissed and she manages to make her feet obey her long enough to walk out of Sinclair's office — a feeling that lasts all of thirty seconds before she collides with Susan, knocking them both against the wall.

"Hey!" Susan says, grasping her arms and pulling her close before one or both of them ends up on the floor. "Hey, are you okay?" She seems to have forgotten, in the moment, her aversion to being close to telepaths.

"Yeah," Talia says, but she can tell her voice belies the word. "Yeah, I mean. That's what they do." It sounds unconvincing even to her own ears. Kelsey and Bester had shaken more than her body, more, even, than just her mind.

Susan frowns. "What they do is unconscionable."

No, Talia wants to say, no, they do what they have to to keep us safe, but Susan's hands are still warm on her arms and she can't bring herself to argue with her now. Can't bring herself to do anything that might make Susan move.

Susan speaks, instead, says, "I wish I could have stopped them."

The tiniest bit softer and Talia wouldn't have heard. Half a whisper louder and she could acknowledge that she'd heard. Like this — oh, she thinks, feeling Susan's mind brushing against her shields, radiating sincerity and pain and an undercurrent of something it would be too intrusive to name — she stands, frozen.

"Thank you," she says, finally, and if Susan's not sure what Talia's thanking her for, well, Talia's not exactly sure herself. For recognizing that we're not all the same, she might have said if that didn't stray too close to potential argument territory, or, for helping me if she was willing to be that vulnerable. Instead she just smiles, and Susan smiles back, small shaky ghosts that hold more promise than the ones they had exchanged weeks ago at the bar.

"Of course," Susan says, as if anything about this conversation were simpler than it was, and when they disentangle themselves and go their separate ways, Talia walks with a lightness not entirely due to the continued headache throbbing through her skull.

Much later, Talia realises that she doesn't remember seeing Susan's lips move around her last words.

She files that information away with everything else she would like to ask Susan, but knows she'll never get the chance to say.