Title: Serving the Captain part 1/? Author/pseudonym: Galenn Fandom: Crusade Paring: Matthew Gideon/Max Eilerson; others to follow Rating: NC-17 Status: new, WIP Archive: Sure! Corrupt Data Crystal, LadyMay's archive & WWOMB have ongoing permission; anyone else let me know where it is, that's all. E-mail address for feedback: uvalpha@ix.netcom.com Series/Sequel: Multiple parts but single story, I think. Disclaimers: B5 & Crusade belong to Babylonian Productions & Warner Brothers. This story does not intend to infringe on their copyrights. It doesn't even intend to infringe on TNT's although *they* deserve it. Notes: Not beta read; first level editing done. Good reviews on another mailing list. Summary: Sometimes it lies... Notes: _words_ are thoughts, *words* are emphasis Serving the Captain by Galenn part 1 Captain Matthew Gideon entered sick bay and spoke briefly to one of the medical technicians before heading over to the bed where one of his team lay lightly dozing. "Max, how are you?" he asked, startling the man awake. Max Eilerson blinked up at the captain for a moment, then his expression changed from one of confusion to one of annoyance. "Oh, I'm *fine*, Captain, all things considered...May I make a suggestion that the *next* time I tell you an inscription is a warning, you pay some *small* bit of attention to me?" Gideon arched an eyebrow at the man and asked, "Do you remember how you got here?" Max frowned briefly, and for a moment Gideon wondered whether his annoyance came from inability to remember or if his lack of reaction had scored a hit. Then the archaeologist shook his head and said, "I'd assume the usual way; someone picked me up and put me in a shuttle, it flew back up here--" _Smartass,_ Gideon thought, then he smiled very slightly and said, "When the room started caving in, you pushed me out of the way, getting yourself trapped in the rubble..." "Well, I certainly hope you don't think I did it to save you out of any kind of loyalty or *friendship*," Max answered coolly, disappointing Gideon by his lack of outrage, "I only did it so that you'd be alive for me to tell, 'I told you so'..." "Oh, believe me, Mr. Eilerson, I would never expect something like loyalty or *friendship* out of you," Gideon answered, an edge of coldness in his tone now, "Although for an intelligent man, you seem to pick some of the *stupidest* reasons to risk your life..." He felt a twinge of regret at his words as a flash of hurt showed in Max's blue eyes, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure if he had imagined it. "I'll leave you to get some rest," he said, turning and heading for the door. Just as he reached it, Max asked, "Captain?" He stopped, turning back to look at the archaeologist, "Yes, Mr. Eilerson?" "You're welcome," Max said, his tone making it more than obvious that he knew Gideon never had thanked him. Gideon had to concede the point, acutely aware that the verbal fencing match had gone on long enough. He looked down for a moment, then up at Max again. "Thank you," he said softly, then he walked out of the room. Once Gideon was gone, Max sighed and allowed himself to sink deeper into the pillow, the need to keep up appearances now past. _Damn Gideon anyway,_ he thought viciously, _the next time he can just save his own damned life..._ He swallowed hard, more irritated with himself for allowing the discussion to upset him than he was with Gideon's reaction -- or so he told himself... Gideon locked himself in his quarters and stripped out of his uniform on his way to the bathroom, letting articles of clothing lie wherever they fell. He stepped into the vibe shower and stood there, allowing the sound waves to pummel him until he felt numb. _God, I wish I had a real shower!_ he thought as he staggered out of the chamber and to his sink, where he splashed cold water on his face and chest in an attempt to wake himself up a little. He finished up in the bathroom and padded to his bed, deciding that waking up was a lost cause. For a long moment he stared at the wall panel where the Apocalypse Box was hidden, resisting the urge to take it out and ask it anything. Right now, he didn't *want* to hear what it had to say -- didn't want anyone's advice about the things lurking in his subconscious... He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and fell back, throwing his arms out to either side. _Just what *is* it about Eilerson, anyway?_ he thought, annoyed at both the archaeologist and himself for continuing this stupid game. But, there were times when he just wanted to shake the man until some sense made its way into that brilliant mind -- and then, there were times when he wanted to shove him against the wall and-- _--and *what*?_ he thought, suddenly realizing where his wandering mind was going. "Christ -- where the hell did *that* come from?!" he muttered, sitting up and glowering down at his stiffening cock. For an instant, his natural curiosity made him want to investigate his reaction and what had caused it, but then rationality kicked in and he squashed it, turning his attention to willing his erection to fade. After a couple of minutes of visualizing himself wading through waist-high icy cold water, forcibly steering his mind back on track when another image threatened to intrude on him, he heaved a sigh and stood up. "Okay," he muttered, "I think I need to work off some stress..." He walked to his closet and pulled out his sweats, grabbed up the socks and underwear he had recently discarded and dressed before he could think too much about what he was doing. _Who needs sleep, anyway..._ Dressed for a workout, he headed out of his quarters again, walking down the hall at a brisk pace. He rounded the corner on the way to the transport tube and walked headlong into his first officer, Lt. John Matheson. "God, John, are you okay?" he asked, grabbing Matheson's shoulders to steady him, "I'm sorry." "Uh -- I'm fine, Sir... I --" Matheson blinked and shook his head slightly, then took a step back in an attempt to break the physical contact. Suddenly realizing he was still gripping Matheson's shoulders, Gideon released him and let him step back. "Sorry..." he muttered, smiling slightly as he saw the colour rising in the telepath's cheeks. "Is there anything that needs my attention, Lieutenant?" he asked, "If there isn't, I'll be in the gym -- I'm feeling a need to work out." Matheson nodded once with a slight smirk, and said, "Yes, I guess so..." When Gideon smiled again, he blushed even more and said, "No, nothing that needs your attention, Sir. Should I make sure it's a private session, or is there someone you'd like me to have meet you there?" "Don't even *think* it, Lieutenant," Gideon said with mock threat in his tone, "I don't want to have to hurt you..." "Of course not, Captain," Matheson said, fully recovered now, "And if I see Mr. Eilerson, I have absolutely *no* idea where you are..." He sketched a brief salute and continued on his way, ignoring the poisonous look Gideon shot him on the way past. Gideon continued down the corridor, berating himself for his lack of control. _Of all the people to run into, it has to be the one telepath in the crew...I don't even want to *know* how much of this he picked up on..._ he thought, uncomfortably aware that he was going to have to examine his feelings -- at some point. _Just not *now*._ After a night of observation -- one far too long for all parties concerned -- Dr. Chambers released Max with a clean bill of health. Just as glad to be free as she was to be rid of him, he returned to his quarters and checked out his gear that had been brought back from planetside. Once he was certain that nothing had been left behind or damaged beyond repair, he sat at his desk and pulled out his journal and pen. He jotted down a brief record of what had occurred on the planet, including Gideon's determination to continue despite his warning, then paused and leaned back in his chair, gently tapping the pen on the journal page. _Silly man has absolutely *no* sense of self-preservation..._ he thought, trying to visualize what had happened. _Yes,_ he thought, reviewing events in his mind's eye, _I *did* push him out of the way -- Gods, *what* an idiot!_ And then he realized that while he was still envisioning Gideon, the image in his mind's eye had very little to do with the cave-in. Instead, it was the Gideon of his fantasies, dressed in his original black Excalibur uniform and that black leather jacket that fit so nicely across his broad shoulders... "Oh...not this again..." he murmured, even as he closed his eyes and leaned back further. _What's the use in fighting it when I don't really want to?_ he wondered, imagining Gideon's hands on the arms of his chair, pinning him in it as the captain leaned down and growled something lewd in his ear. The feral look in Gideon's eyes was enough to make Max shudder with desire; when Gideon nipped his neck he gave a soft cry and squirmed slightly -- and was startled out of his fantasy by the sound of the pen clattering to the floor. "Oh god..." he panted, looking around to make sure he was still alone. "That *definitely* won't do." He sat up and tried to calm his breathing, then leaned down to pick up his pen. "This has *got* to stop," he muttered, looking at the journal page for a long moment. Then, very carefully, he began to write a private note, penned in a code he had derived long ago from parts of various alien and earth scripts: "One bloody unthinking, selfless act -- always the worst kind, of course -- and I've given myself away. Exposed myself to the one person who could do me the most harm -- the one who really matters. In saving Gideon, in risking myself, I've shown him I can care about someone other than myself -- given him a weakness he can exploit; given him a way in..." He paused briefly in writing, thinking, _After all, it's not like he hasn't already proved he'll exploit anything he can...Wonder if he watched the entire vid collection, or just stopped at the ones with the aliens fucking *women*..._ He shook his head and resumed writing: "Damn him -- what do I do if he finds that being in the same room with him makes my head spin, makes me weak in the knees -- that every time we pass in the corridor I desperately wish he'd grab me and pull me into a room and fuck me senseless?" He was about to put pen to paper again when the com beeped. He looked at the screen and asked, "Yes?" with as much bored annoyance as he could manage. Lt. Matheson's image appeared onscreen, and he said, "Mr. Eilerson, you're wanted in the conference room." Max sighed and made a show of capping his pen and closing his journal, making sure Matheson knew he had been in the middle of something important. "I'll be there shortly, Lieutenant," Max answered, shutting off the com before he could say anything in return. _Here we go again..._ he thought, packing pen and journal into his field pouch and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. "...use a little more caution," Gideon said, looking up as Max entered the room. "Ah, so nice of you to join us, Mr. Eilerson. Have a seat," he added, motioning towards the only open seat in the room. Max glanced that way with distaste, noticing that their sometimes-resident Technomage had returned, and was brooding in the seat next to it. Reluctantly, Max made his way to the seat and settled into it, then looked up at Gideon and said, "Am I to assume that we're going back down to that planet?" "Yes, we are," Gideon answered smugly, "While you were recovering from your injuries, some of the crew continued searching -- and cleared out the rubble from the booby-trapped room. They managed to find a vault." He smiled to himself as he saw Max perk up at this news, amused by his sudden eagerness. "Dureena managed to get the vault open without causing any further cave-ins, and--" Max cut in, "You found something -- what did you find?" Galen smiled and met Gideon's gaze, said, "There, Matthew, I *told* you he'd be interested..." "I thought *you* were going away for a while," Max muttered. Then he asked, "Well, what did you find?" "Scrolls," Gideon answered, watching with amusement as Max's eyes lit up. "Scrolls, *plural*," Max mused. "How many -- no, never mind how many -- has anyone done anything to preserve them? Did you test the air or do anything else to find out how long they'd been sealed up? I've got to get down there and start scanning them before the air you've so thoughtfully exposed them to starts to destroy them!" "Do try not to find any more deadfalls, Maximilian," Galen said, smiling as Max bristled. "We're ready to go now, if you are, Max," Gideon said, trying not to show what would be extremely inappropriate amusement as the two men glowered at each other. "Just let me get the scanning equipment and I'll be ready," Max said, standing and heading for the door. "Meet you at the shuttle, then," Gideon said, slight amusement in his tone as Max breezed past him and exited the room. Then he glanced around at the others and said, "Well, I guess the meeting's over -- dismissed." The rest of them filed out until just Gideon and Galen remained, at which point Galen walked up next to him and softly said, "Matthew, I think you're being too lenient with him." Gideon frowned and met the Technomage's gaze, then immediately broke the eye-contact before Galen had a chance to read his expression. "Come on, Galen, he's going to be a pain in the ass whether I let him or not -- this way I just expend less energy arguing with him. Besides, he's right. We need to get those scrolls either into a protected environment, or scan the images before they get too badly damaged." "Of course, Matthew," Galen said. Then he canted his head to one side and said, "After all, I would *never* accuse you of going soft on him..." Gideon's eyes snapped back to Galen's, and he said, "Good." Then he relaxed slightly and said, "Come on, we should get to the shuttle," and turned to walk out, leaving Galen standing in the conference room, wondering exactly what nerve he had hit *this* time. When Max arrived at the vault, he discovered the situation wasn't as bad as he had assumed -- his remaining staff had already begun carefully cataloging the site and scanning the scrolls, working gingerly to avoid damaging the delicate skin they were constructed from. There was a canister nearby for temporary storage of the completed scrolls, until they could either reseal the vault or otherwise protect them; when Max looked into it, he found they had already finished one. "So, how's it going?" he asked, standing and carefully walking around the vault examining the walls for carvings or paintings. "Fairly well," one of them answered, looking up at him, "How are you feeling, Mr. Eilerson?" "Fine, just a little less inclined to stand near the walls of this place," Max answered, eyeing the floor stones suspiciously. "We did a full scan once we got in here -- it looks like there's a weak area there," the other archaeologist said, pointing out a corner where a column of stones rose from a larger block, "Around that large block. We don't *think* it's another trap, but..." "But if we need anything from that area, you can get it," Max said with a smirk. "Okay, hand me one of those scrolls so we can get this done as quickly as possible." Max's IPX team worked well into the night, scanning all of the scrolls and then studying and scanning the walls of the vault. There were no carvings, no signs of ornamentation at all, and even the clay chest the scrolls had been discovered in was simple and plain. The scrolls, on the other hand, were penned in a script that was ornate on its own, and embellished in beautiful rainbow shades of an opaque ink that held some iridescence. Max took a tiny sample from an area of one of the scrolls that wouldn't destroy any of the delicate writing or embellishment, and sealed it and an equally miniscule sample of the skin in two small vials for later analysis. "Okay, it's past my bedtime. You two finish up here, and I'll take these scans back to start interpreting them. If you have any trouble, I'm sure Gideon's keeping some of the troops here to keep an eye on us." As he returned to the shuttle, he yawned mightily and thought, _It's *so* good to have assistants..._ He knew he was going to have to wait until the next day to really work on the scroll scans -- he may have recovered enough to be out and about, but his head was really starting to ache again and concentration was completely out of the question. He prayed that he wouldn't run into Gideon -- or even worse, Galen -- before he had had at least a few hours of sleep -- right now, he just wasn't in condition to deal with either of them. He even stretched out and let himself doze on the trip back to the Excalibur. When he got back to the ship he headed straight for his quarters, the throbbing ache increasing as his tiredness increased. He ducked inside and carefully deposited his equipment on his desk, then headed into the bathroom where he dealt with necessities. He avoided a shower, expecting that the sound waves would make his headache even worse, settling instead for washing his face and running some cool water over his hair. He towel-dried his hair gingerly, then scrubbed the towel over his face and sighed into it. Half asleep already, he stripped out of his clothing, neatly folding his trousers and throwing his shirt into a hamper; then walked back to his bed and slid under the covers. Realizing that he was inviting an interruption just as he really got comfortable, he heaved a sigh and grabbed up his communication bracelet. "Eilerson to Bridge," he spoke into it, waiting impatiently for a response. "Bridge here," came the answer. He was relieved when he recognized Matheson's voice. "Is there a problem, Mr. Eilerson?" "I'm sure the shuttle pilot told you I was back onboard. I left the rest of the team planetside to let them finish up, but I had to come back and get some sleep. Please tell the captain that I will start translating the scrolls first thing tomorrow, but right now is just out of the question." "What's wrong, Max?" Gideon's voice answered him. He sounded slightly concerned... "Captain, it's nothing serious," Max answered, praying for a quick end to the conversation. "It's just that my head is about to come off, and I just need to get some sleep before I--" "That's okay, Max," Gideon said, his tone softening in sympathy, "I know how head injuries can be. Don't push yourself -- just get some rest. If you'd like, I can have Dr. Chambers check on you." "No, thanks, I just need some sleep. Goodnight, Captain," Max said tiredly, putting the comm bracelet down and sinking back into the pillows. He was asleep in an instant. Gideon stood in the doorway, watching silently as Max scrutinized an image on his screen and tapped a pen against his pursed lips. The little frown that creased his brow suddenly faded and his blue eyes lit up, and Gideon knew he'd made some kind of breakthrough. As Max bent to make notes in his journal, Gideon backed out of the lounge, determined to keep from interrupting him just yet. Max wasn't the kind who took well to nagging, and Gideon was painfully aware of that. He was also painfully aware of the fact that he had been paying far more attention to the way Max looked, the way his curls seemed so soft today, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he figured something out... _This is really bad,_ Gideon thought, turning away completely once he was out of line of sight, _I've got to be *nuts*._ He walked briskly down the hall, realizing he was heading for the bullet car tube. _Yeah, that's a good idea -- just get away from it all for a bit..._ Hours later, he received his first progress report from Max, and although he tried, he couldn't help sounding disappointed when the archaeologist told him that the first sets of scrolls he had translated were the equivalent of a cookbook, and a detailed description of that race's methods of ritual sacrifice... He told Max to keep up the good work, and contact him when he had more information. The day carried on much as any other day, the IPX team returning in the afternoon and giving him their report, much of which didn't interest him in the least. The fact that it didn't seem like the civilization on the planet had ever encountered the Drakh plague significantly lowered his hopes for the information Max was translating, and his second report bolstered that opinion. Max took a break around early evening, remembering that he hadn't eaten all day, and joined the main crew in the lounge for dinner. There, he shared some of his discoveries, but agreed with Gideon that most likely this race wouldn't be able to help their mission much. "But," he reminded, "I *do* still have one set of scrolls to read -- we shouldn't leave orbit until we're completly sure..." "Of course, you're right," Gideon agreed, looking upon it as a necessary evil. Even so, Max seemed to preen at his words. _God, what an *ego*,_ he thought, watching as Max performed for the audience. He just leaned back in his chair and observed, seeing no real reason to rein him in. Max was actually quite entertaining to watch as he told them what he had learned so far about this advanced race who still performed ritual blood sacrifices to their gods, despite their extensive scientific knowledge. According to Max, they sounded quite a lot like the ancient mesoamerican cultures of Earth, including the extent of their mathematical and astronomical knowledge. After dinner, Max returned to his quarters to work on the last set of scrolls, and the rest of them returned to their normal duties. It was about 02:00 when Gideon finally gave up the pretense of trying to sleep. What little sleep he *had* managed to get had been punctuated by erotic dreams that he knew he really shouldn't be having. He dressed in his sweats and walked out of his quarters, just needing to get away from things again. He wasn't in the mood for a workout this time, or a frustrating attempt at basketball -- he knew it would just serve to irritate him further, and right now it wasn't good for him to be irritated. _This has got to stop,_ he thought. _I can't keep waking up horny every damned night, and I can't justify heading off to Babylon 5 just to scratch an itch. I've *got* to get myself under control!_ After a while of just walking, managing to avoid most of the late shift crewmembers, he found himself standing outside the lounge, staring at a table where Max Eilerson sat, working away at his computer. _Cursed,_ Gideon thought, _I *must* be cursed..._ Just then, before he could flee, Max looked up and saw him. "Oh, Captain, I didn't expect to see you until morning! Come on in -- I'm nearly finished here, anyway." Reluctantly, Gideon entered the room, stopping a short distance from the table. He saw that the image on the screen was divided, on one side an image of more writing from the alien scrolls, and the other side the translation that Max was refining. "So, is there anything we can use?" he asked, unable to sound too hopeful. "Well," Max drawled, glancing at Gideon to gauge his reaction, "There's medical information here, but I really doubt it's anything *you're* looking for..." "Try me." "Temptations, temptations," Max muttered. "What was that?" Gideon asked, unsure if he had imagined what he thought he'd heard. Max looked up the instant Gideon questioned him, unable to hide his stricken expression as he realized he had voiced his thoughts. The panic was only there for an instant, but it was long enough for Gideon to make note of it. _Most interesting,_ he thought. Then the expression was replaced with a classic Max Eilerson smirk. Max never denied he had spoken, he just avoided the question completely, focusing instead on the ornate writing of the scroll on the reader. "Well, this one seems to be...a sex manual, Captain. There's nothing at all about the kind of medicine we would need to combat the plague." Gideon cleared his throat and said, "A sex manual." "Yes, and quite detailed, at that," Max commented with a smirk. Until he once again realized exactly who he was talking to and schooled his features. _No, it just would *not* do to mention sex -- especially not alien sex -- around Gideon,_ Max thought, uncomfortably reminded again of the debacle with his data crystal. "A sex manual..." Gideon muttered, taking a step or two away and staring into the middle distance. Just as Max was growing impatient, he spun on his heel and said, "Are you telling me that all we got out of this was a cookbook, a cultural history, a how-to of ritual sacrifice, and 'The Joy of Sex'?!" "Don't forget 'The Joy of Lesbian Sex', 'The Joy of Gay Sex', and 'SadoMasochism 101'..." Again, it was out of his mouth before he thought about what he was saying. Max stared at the screen, fully aware of the close scrutiny he was getting. _I feel like a Drakh virus under Dr. Chambers' microscope,_ he thought, feeling Gideon's stare burning into him. _Something to distract,_ he thought almost desperately. _Ah!_ He stood, boldly meeting Gideon's hazel eyes, and said, "Of course, I should know by now not to expect *you* to understand the importance of this find, especially the cultural history..." Gideon's temper flared -- the incident with Natchok Var was still fresh in his mind and Max's words brought a pang of guilt he didn't need to be feeling. He advanced on Max, jabbing an index finger at him, the fact that he was backing the other man into the wall not registering on him. "Now that's a fine thing coming from your lips, Max. The only reason someone like *you* is interested in a cultural history is so you can scavenge any inventions they mention in it!" Max surprised him into silence for a moment by grunting as he backed into the wall. The tip of his index finger was pressed against Max's chest, where he could feel the man's heart racing. He looked down at his finger, realizing he had been jabbing at the IPX logo on the shirt; then he met Max's blue eyes. The instant their eyes met, Max moaned, "Oh gods..." and sagged back against the wall, defeated. At least, that was Gideon's first impression. However, a subtle difference struck him and his eyes widened in shock. Not defeat -- *surrender*. Lust thundered through his veins as Max swallowed hard and then took a deep breath, his lips parting invitingly. Gideon flattened his hand against Max's chest, sliding his fingertips down into the unbuttoned neckline and gently fingering a nipple; savouring the moan that escaped as Max arched into his touch. He advanced the half-step further, pressing up against Max and sliding a knee between his legs, feeling the growing erection. "We going do this right out here where anyone can walk in, or are you going to at least drag me back to your quarters?" Max murmured in his ear, trying not to show how eager he was for it, wherever Gideon took him. Gideon pressed harder against his groin, the groan Max tried to repress threatening to destroy the last of his control. "I ought to fuck you right here on one of the tables, for anyone who walks in to see. Let them know I really *am* the one in charge..." Max shuddered with desire, painfully aware that he would let Gideon do that if he really wanted to. But... "You wouldn't do that, Captain," he murmured breathlessly, "after all, some might think you were abusing your position..." "And we wouldn't want that..." Gideon growled in his ear. "Not that I would have to order you to do a damned thing, would I?" He reached up with his other hand into Max's hair, grabbing it and turning his head so that their lips met. He plunged his tongue into Max's willing mouth, kissing him brutally until Max began to make whimpering noises. Then he released him and smiled slightly as he gasped for air. "Oh *god*, will you just *fuck* me already?" "You want me to, huh?" Gideon asked, his smile broadening. "Yes, yes, I want you to," Max said, knowing he should never have admitted it but just too hungry to pretend otherwise. "Good." Gideon backed off suddenly, eliciting a badly concealed whimper from Max. "Meet me in my quarters in fifteen minutes, and don't let anyone see you," he ordered, his blood singing as he took in Max's disheveled, flushed appearance. Then he turned and walked out of the lounge, heading for his quarters without a backwards glance. Max let out a shuddering breath and stepped away from the wall, tried to adjust himself to ease the discomfort of his aching erection. He walked to the table he had been working at and hurriedly began packing up his computer and notes. His thoughts whirled -- Gideon had all but given him a way out of this -- he could just not show up, and thereby prove that Gideon was wrong, that he wasn't the one in control... Except... _Except I want him so bad it's driving me insane,_ Max thought unhappily. _If I go to his quarters, I'm confirming everything he suspects about me, but I *want* to go..._ He shuddered again, knowing that he was inviting disaster. Gideon would have more than enough leverage from this point in, to use any way he damn well pleased. It was a terrifying prospect -- it also sent a delicious little shiver down Max's spine when he thought about it, and that was even more terrifying... _At least we don't *like* each other,_ he thought, heading out of the room. _That kind of tie would be intolerable..._ It wasn't until Max was down the corridor and out of hearing range that a shadow detached from the wall. Galen stood in the lounge, staring at the place where Gideon had backed Max into the wall, seething with anger. His usually cool blue eyes nearly glowed, and if any of the crew had seen him at that moment, they would have run in fright. "Damn you, Maximilian," he murmured, "What kind of corruption have you exposed him to?" To be continued in part 2 Crusade and the characters depicted within are (c) 1999 JMS and Babylonian Production. This story is not intended to infringe on that copyright. Serving the Captain is (c) 1999 Galenn