fh_alumni | A long time from now, in a part of the galaxy far, far away . . .

"Good morning. The current time is 0631, station-standard. The current date is Wednesday, September 27, 2261. There is one event reminder for today. Today is –"

"Shove it!" Ivanova growled as she rolled out of bed.

"Command not recognised," the computer replied calmly.

Ivanova scowled in the general direction of the BabCom screen, calmly displaying today's crises, and headed for the bathroom. "Why does my mouth always taste like old carpet in the morning?" she griped.

"Unknown. Checking medical logs." The computer paused a moment. "Play event reminder?" it asked the now-empty room.

"No!" came the growl from the shower in the moment before it turned on.

***

It was a slow day in Command and Control. Usually, slow days were a good thing. Slow days meant no shooting wars, no trade disputes, no deaths, no politicians, no crises. Unfortunately, they also meant a lot of time to think.

Ivanova didn't want to think today.

Since the station was being so uncooperative today, she couldn't go through with her original plan to work herself into exhaustion, collapse into bed, and fall asleep before her head hit the pillow. Instead, she was left drumming her fingers on her console and willing the jumpgate to activate, disgorging a pissed-off and heavily-armed fleet of Centauri war-cruisers. Hell, she'd take a lost Pak'Mara trader at this point.

She was engaged in glaring at the equally uncooperative 'gate when the Narn Ambassdor G'Kar swept into the Dome, a bottle of something blue and most certainly highly alcoholic in one hand. "My dear Commander Ivanova!" he said broadly, spreading his arms. "I offer my hearty congratulations –"

"Out."

G'Kar blinked. "I beg your pardon."

Without turning around, Ivanova lifted a hand and pointed imperiously at the door, her voice cold and terrifying. "Get out. Go."

G'Kar gulped. Six feet of leather-clad, metal-studded, warrior-poet, thick-skinned lizard gulped. He abandoned his peace offering and backed away swiftly. "Good day, Commander." And he turned and fled.

Silence.

"I am hearing far too many clicks and pings, people," Ivanova growled.

Conversation rose sharply, covering the soft sounds of the monitors and equipment. Corwin, braver than most, fetched the bottle that G'Kar had left and carried it over to her. Taking in the stony look on her face, he wordlessly set it close by and went back to his own consoles.

***

Ivanova lingered in CnC after her shift, watching the station start to sleep around her, false night beginning. With a sigh, she turned away, lifting her link to her mouth, punching in a call sign.

"Garibaldi."

"Hey, Michael, you have any plans for tonight?"

"Just me and Duck Dodgers. Why?"

"I promised someone I wouldn't drink alone. Meet you in the commons in twenty?"

Silence for a moment. "You okay, Susan?"

"No. See you then." She closed the connection and, after a moment, grabbed the bottle of blue that G'Kar had intended as a gift. She left the darkened Dome.

Twenty minutes later, in civvies and literally letting her hair down, Ivanova entered the Commons and spotted Garibaldi. He wasn't alone, as Franklin waved from beside him.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought company," Garibaldi said without a trace of remorse as she joined them.

"The more the merrier," she said dryly, slipping into a seat. It appeared that the detective and the good doctor had started without her, half-empty glasses silent testimony. Garibaldi flagged a waitress down and soon Ivanova had a matching one.

The President of the Interstellar Alliance joined the table in the middle of a long, complicated anecdote involving two Pak'Mara and a visiting diplomat's beloved pet.

". . . so then John shows up," Garibaldi was saying, leaning in and gesturing with both hands while Ivanova smiled into something uncharacteristically fruity and umbrella-decorated. A hand descended on her shoulder and one slapped Garibaldi on the back as a new voice joined the conversation.

"So then John shows up, single-handedly rescuing the frightened feline, and received a knighthood for his trouble."

"John!" went up the chorus and chairs shuffled to make room.

"Sit, sit!" Ivanova instructed, grinning. "I'm not drinking alone," she informed him.

Sheridan chuckled, taking the offered seat. "I can see that. How far behind am I?"

"You'll catch up in no time," Garibaldi assured him. "You're already starting to forget things, after all."

"Forget things? Me?" Sheridan protested innocently.

"A knighthood? Are you still banned from entering England now?"

"Come on, it wasn't that bad . . ."

Ivanova laughed as she finished her drink and ordered another. She was starting to get that wonderful loose feeling that happened just on the less sober side of buzzed that she always seemed to skip when she drank alone. That strange tight feeling in her chest that she had carried all day was beginning to fade. Alcohol didn't seem to dull the memory, but it certainly dulled the pain. Maybe today wasn't such a bad day after all.

Abruptly she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "Did I ever tell you about the Hallowe'en party in the haunted mansion, where I was wearing this ridiculously skimpy Bitterwoman costume . . ."

". . . so there I am, barely able to walk without a cane, one arm that should be up in a sling, and she's picking me up for our date on a broomstick!"

The table erupted in laughter. The bartender looked over, shaking his head. The station brass were usually in and out for a quick drink after work, but he'd never seen them stay quite this long or get quite this loud. At this hour of the morning, though, it wasn't like he had other customers that they were bothering.

"I'm serious, I'm serious!" Ivanova laughed. "She knocked on the window!"

They burst out laughing again. Somehow this was all outrageously hilarious. Another round was needed and Ivanova's got story lost in the middle somehow. When everyone once again had a drink in hand, Ivanova straightened as much as she was still able and lifted her glass. "Gentlemen! I have an announcement to make!"

"Hear, hear!" Sheridan contributed.

"She hasn't said anything yet!" Franklin shushed him, almost falling off his stool.

"Oh."

Ivanova let out a giggle before raising her glass again. "Nine months ago –" She paused, counting on her fingers to be sure. "Yes, nine! Nine months ago, I kissed a girl! So –" She saluted with her drink. "Happy anniversary, Nymphadora Tonks, wherever you are."

The men all joined the toast. "Happy anniversary!"