DISCLAIMER: Babylon 5 belongs to J. Michael Straczynski, otherwise known as the Great Maker, and his cohorts.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:I have had a conversation with the muse, and we have decided that Zack needs some fic. The poor guy seems to have the worst luck: the girls never go for him, his clothes don't fit right, and he got caught in the middle of that whole Nightwatch fiasco. The man needs some love. And it is my job to give it to him.

PEEPING ZACK

"Let me help you down."

"No!"

Zack Allan was not normally a rude fellow. Growing up with four sisters had given him a patience that could make the Vorlons look impulsive. But now, Lyta Alexander was wearing that long-practiced patience down to nothing. "Lyta…"

"Zack, I said no!" The red-haired telepath hissed.

"Look, do you want to stay up there forever?" Zack tried.

"You're not helping me down." Lyta insisted.

"You were the one who wanted to see what was going on." Zack now felt like a fourth-grader having an argument on the playground.

"You just want to look up my skirt," Lyta accused.

Zack narrowed his eyes. "I do not want to look up your skirt."

Lyta laughed humorlessly. "I don't need to be a telepath to pick up on that one, Zack."

"Come on." Zack closed his eyes. "My eyes are closed, I can't see anything."

Zack heard Lyta sigh, and then felt her hands on his shoulders. He blindly reached his hands up to support her waist.

"Zack! Stop!"

"Stop what?" Zack asked.

"Stop groping me!"

"I'm not groping you," Zack told her.

"You are!"

"I can't open my eyes because you don't want me to see anything," Zack said, "so I can't see where my hands are going, so you really can't blame me if they end up someplace you don't want."

Lyta ignored his reasoning. "OK, uh…" she seemed to be plotting her next move.

A sharp pain shot from Zack's left shoulder to the middle of his back. "OW!" He exclaimed before he could stop himself.

"What is it?"

Is that concern I heard in her voice? "You're…pressing a nerve or something."

Lyta's grip loosened a little. "Better?"

"Better," Zack confirmed.

"All right, here I come." Zack heard rustling, felt Lyta jump, and then heard her shoes hit the floor. "Done." She paused. "You can open your eyes now."

Zack obeyed. "Was that so horrible?" He asked Lyta.

Lyta straightened her jacket. "No," she admitted. "Thank you, Zack."

"You're welcome." And next time, just to be a pain in the neck, I will look up your skirt.

The Security Chief had forgotten, just for a moment, that he was dealing with a telepath. Lyta gasped, glared at him, and punched him in the stomach.

"Oh!" Zack exclaimed, doubling over in pain. He hated to admit it, but Lyta packed a powerful punch.

"Zack?"

Zack looked up. Great. Michael. Just what he needed, a little pithy sarcasm from Michael Garibaldi to make his day better.

"I think she likes you," Michael quipped, and walked away.

Zack made a face at his ex-superior and righted himself. They hate me, he mentally groused. Lyta hates me, the universe hates me…he tugged at his jacked. And this stupid jacket still doesn't fit right.