July 1996 This came from the fact that I didn't think that either Ivanova *or* Garibaldi were acting "right" after Talia's "death", and really thought that there should have been *some* scene in the rest of the Final Four where we could see that it was affecting them. This at least explains why we *don't* see such a scene... Oh -- one more thing -- I've taken some artistic license -- I don't know if Garibaldi saw the breakfast *we* saw in DL, but he wanders around, observing all over the station -- I just decided that he *did* see some breakfast the two had together. Also, I'm assuming the events of the comic books (Mars arc) took place as shown, meaning Garibaldi *saw* Talia's face. JMS forgot that he'd had Garibaldi say (in ItSoZ) "I never forget a face". Obviously, his memory has a couple of (*probably* alcohol-induced) gaps in it... To quote JMS, that's my story and I'm sticking with it! Here it is: ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "Missing Scene" from Divided Loyalties by Galenn "There he is, Sir --ah-- Ma'am," Zack said, pointing down at one of the Zocalo bars. Ivanova looked down from the catwalk and frowned. Zack hoped desperately that the expression wasn't a direct result of his confusion over what to call a female officer. A *tough* female officer... "How long has he been there?" Ivanova asked, interrupting his musings and startling a blank stare out of him. "Huh? Oh! About twenty minutes, I guess..." "You were watching him the whole time?" "Well --ah, no. I was doing my rounds. He was there when I walked by before, and still there when I came back..." Zack shrugged, then frowned and asked, "This isn't going to get him in *trouble*, is it?" "Leave that to me," she answered, studying the scene before her. "Thank you very much, Zack. You can continue your rounds now." Zack nodded, then saluted awkwardly, nervously hurrying away when Ivanova returned the salute. Once she was alone on the catwalk, she allowed herself to relax, thinking as she watched, *Damn it, I might just join you.* Garibaldi was mad at the world. No, mad wasn't quite the word for it -- more like furious. Hate might also fit the bill -- and a good bit of that particular emotion was directed soundly at PsiCorps. PsiCorps and their damned implanted personalities, sleeper spy program, secret Mars base with its techno-organic monster nightmare (_Damn, I should have remembered her!_), and one very convenient and concrete human target by the name of Bester. _I know that little bastard was in on this. That smug little sonofa--_ If he could actually concentrate hard enough, and gather all his fury and betrayal and hurt, maybe -- just maybe he could make that little scum-sucking PsiCop hurt as much as he was... _But then he'd need to *have* a heart, first..._ He sighed and let it all flow out with that breath -- this wasn't doing his blood pressure any good. Then he stared again at the amber liquid in the glass between his hands. _Half an hour now,_ he thought. _I'm impressed. So just what the hell *are* you trying to prove to yourself?_ "Penny for your thoughts, Garibaldi," Ivanova said, plopping down onto the stool next to his. "Save your money, they're not worth it," he mumbled after a long moment. If -- and he conceded that was a pretty big if these days -- he could still read people at *all*, here was someone who had lost as much as he had -- _most likely had lost even more,_ he amended, thinking of the friendly breakfast he had seen the end of recently. In his mind's eye he could see Ivanova and Talia sitting almost side by side at a round table they could easily have sat opposite each other at; Ivanova smiling openly and Talia giving her a seductively hooded gaze... _Oh yeah, it explained a lot of things,_ he thought, including why he'd kept striking out, and why Ivanova had gone to see her privately after the... _Damn. She's lost a *hell* of a lot more than I just did..._ He realized suddenly that the glass was in his hand, halfway to his mouth. _It would be *so* damned easy..._ Ivanova was just staring, not uttering a sound. He suddenly broke out in a sweat and put the glass back down, drew his hand back, and looked at her. "I haven't drunk any of it, if that's what you're worried about." He couldn't keep the anger out of his tone, much as he wanted to. "What the hell are you doing, torturing yourself, Garibaldi?" she asked, clamping down on the hurt creeping into her tone. They were both so raw she couldn't help picking up a sense of his anguish, which in turn reignited some of her own... "Yeah, maybe I am," he muttered. "I tried thinking hateful thoughts at Bester and his buddies, but ISN hasn't said anything about Syria Planum blowing up, so I guess I'm wasting my time there..." _Bester would probably *laugh*, anyway,_ he thought, returning his attention to the glass of whiskey. Finally he sat up a little and turned to face her. "You know, we killed her," he observed bluntly. The words were like a slap in the face -- suddenly Ivanova turned away from him, struggling hard to keep the tears from coming. _And damn it, he's right._ They knew the password would destroy the real personality... They, not PsiCorps, had actually killed Talia Winters. "There wasn't any way around it," Ivanova finally said. "We couldn't continue doing -- what we're doing -- with an unknown plant in our midst." Garibaldi caught himself reaching out for the drink again. _Just a little sip -- that's all..._ "I keep telling myself that. That sooner or later one of those PsiCorps bastards would come along and trigger it anyway, and we'd all be spaced for treason... But we're the ones who killed her. They made the gun, but we pulled the trigger..." He blinked and stared into the glass in his hand. _So easy..._ He cursed under his breath and slammed it back down on the counter, hard enough to make some of the liquid splash out. "Here," Ivanova said, "You *don't* want to drink that, or you'd be on your eighth by now. Give it to me." He stared at her for a long time, finally nodded. She took the drink from him and drained it in three swallows. "Bartender, get Mr. Garibaldi a coffee, on me." "Thanks. And you're wrong, Ivanova. I *do* want to drink it. I want to get *so* drunk I wouldn't know what Bester looked like if he bit me. I just... don't want to disappoint the people who've put their trust in me." Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, "I don't want to lose -- *or* kill any more of my friends. I've got few enough of them as it is now." Ivanova looked at him, seeing the long years of hurt in his eyes. Normally he'd hide it with his wisecracking humour, but right now every raw nerve ending and heartbreak showed. Despite trying not to, she could feel it, too. *Damn,* she thought, struggling to regain her control -- over her abilities, over her expression, and over her feelings. _We're *not* all that different, are we..._ The bartender brought the coffee, and Garibaldi took a swallow, smiling very slightly as it warmed him. "Real coffee. Thanks, Susan." "You looked like you needed it," she said. There, that sounded better. "Yeah... Look, Susan, I'm sorry. I *know* I'm not the only one here who's lost someone. I don't mean to--" "Garibaldi, it's okay. You need a friend, I need a friend. I understand how you feel, and I already know you understand how I feel." "That obvious, eh?" he asked, forcing a smile. "Yeah. And I thought I was doing a good job..." she replied. This time the smile was a little less forced. "Isn't much you can hide from me." "So I've noticed." Garibaldi sipped some more coffee, the smile gradually fading from his face. "Damn. It's not working, is it..." "No, not really," she answered grimly. She caught the bartender's attention and ordered vodka, then turned back to see Garibaldi struggling to hold back the tears again. _Damn it, how are we supposed to help each other when we're *both* emotional basket cases?_ When the bartender placed her drink in front of her she picked up the glass and made a face. _No one ever serves it correctly..._ "Too warm?" Garibaldi asked, seeing her expression. She nodded, but didn't speak. Garibaldi sighed and said, "We probably shouldn't be sitting here in uniform when we're both off duty. Someone'll probably report us..." "That's how I knew where you were in the first place -- Zack was worried about you." "Zack..." Garibaldi murmured, frowning thoughtfully. He looked warily around them, then when he was certain no one was close enough to overhear, he leaned closer to her. "Y'know, I don't want to get any *more* paranoid, since that's what PsiCorps wants, but I keep thinking... first thing *I'd* do in running a program like that sleeper spy one is make sure there's a backup." "A backup..." Ivanova echoed thoughtfully. "Yeah. They're *not* stupid. You have to build in redundancies so that if one part fails..." "The whole still functions." Garibaldi nodded, sitting up straighter again. "And if Talia *did* shoot at Lyta--" "Where did she get the PPG?" Ivanova finished for him. "And how did she know when Lyta was being moved..." Garibaldi added, shivering slightly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. _Something just doesn't sit right, there. Only a couple of people knew... And I'm one of them._ As he returned his attention to his coffee, Ivanova frowned, sensing the chill gripping him. She studied him over the rim of her glass, until he put the coffee down and looked at her. _How the hell does he do that?_ However, instead of accusing her of staring, or spying, he sighed and muttered, "It's hell knowing anyone at all could be working for Them and not even know it himself..." She nodded, then added, "Or herself... Look, Garibaldi -- Michael -- right now, I'm just too tired to think about it. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me afraid to trust any of my friends." Garibaldi smiled a little and said, "A while ago, you told me you were glad you didn't have to think the way I do... Sometimes I really envy you that." He sighed, then, and stared into his coffee. "I'm pretty tired, too -- it's been a crappy day." "You can say that again," she agreed. She turned back to the counter and stared into her drink for a long moment, then raised her glass and looked over at him. "Hey." "Huh?" After a moment, he realized she was going to make a toast. He shrugged and picked up his coffee. "To friends no longer with us," Ivanova said, her voice thick with emotion. Garibaldi winced inwardly, his mind automatically starting to list the people who fell into that category -- and there were far too many. He nodded, and forced out, "Friends no longer with us," then he clinked his mug against her glass and finished the rest of the coffee while she downed her warm vodka with a grimace. "Susan, I've gotta go. I'll -- see you tomorrow," he said, forcing the words past the constriction in his throat. He stood and walked away from the bar, heading for the safety and privacy of his quarters. She nodded and paid her tab, then headed for her own quarters, knowing that come morning they'd both be pretending everything was all right. And at least one part of her -- the pessimistic Russian who was going to drink some vodka served the *right* way, from her freezer -- was sure it would never be "all right" again... --==**End**==-- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Babylon 5 is (c) 1996 - 2000 PTEN & Babylonian Productions. This "missing scene" is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. "Missing Scene" from Divided Loyalties is (c) 1996 Galenn ----------------------------------------------------------------------