Peter David - Out of the Darkness

Don’t go to Z’ha’dum, she wanted to scream at him. He wouldn’t know what she was talking about. You ‘II die there! You ‘II come back, but changed, and your life will be reduced to but an instant! But she reined herself in, knowing that she did not dare. “Oh, John… there is so much ahead of you, so many changes, so much pain and grief…” She shook her head, still finding it hard to believe. “I look in your eyes now, and I see the innocence that went away so many years ago. But then… you don’t know any of what’s happened, do you?” Like a man trying to catch up with a play, though he had walked into the middle, Sheridan said, “From what Londo said, I get the impression that we won the war… but not completely.” She shook her head. “The war is nevercompletely won. There are always new battles to be fought against the darkness. Only the names change.” She saw that there was a bleak sense of despair creeping onto his face. She couldn’t let him return, thinking that their grand endeavor had failed—would fail. “We achieved everything we set out to achieve… we created something that will endure for a thousand years…” she said proudly. “But the price, John, the terrible, terrible price…”

Don’t go to Z’ha’dum!

She bit her tongue, kept the words in. “I didn’t think I would see you again, before the end.”

There were footsteps approaching briskly down the hall, moving with purpose. He pulled her close and spoke to her with a ferocious intensity that had within it hints of the man he would become. “Delenn… is there anything I can do to prevent this? There’s still a chance…”

“No,” she said forcefully. “No. This future can be changed only by surrendering to the Shadows, and that price is too high to pay.”

The door opened. She knew that it was their time. She knew they were going to be brought to their execution.

“But we have a son…” Sheridan said. There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

“Yes. David…”

“Out!” the guard barked. “Now!” She held him close, and then they faced the light. They walked to the door and through it, out into the hallway. Sheridan held her close…

…and staggered.

“John?” she said, and then more alarmed, “John!”

He collapsed, and at that moment, another guard—a more highly ranked one—strode down the hall and called out in an noyance, “New orders. The emperor said to wait an hour!”

“Why an hour?”

“Who knows?”

There was some muttering that Delenn couldn’t quite make out, although the words “crazy old man” might have been bandied about. At that moment, though, she cared about nothing except her fallen husband. “Please… he needs help,” she said.

“Why? You’re both going to die soon anyway,” one of the guards pointed out, but they helped Delenn and Sheridan back toward their cell.

At that moment, Sheridan suddenly roared, “No!” His eyes were wild; there was nothing but confusion in them. And for a moment she thought she actually saw some sort of glow around him. Instantly she realized what was happening; it was some sort of temporal backlash. The Sheridan of the past and the present were, in some way and on some level, colliding. They were struggling for possession of the one form.

And it was nearly tearing them apart.

Sheridan’s knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor of the cell. Delenn instantly fell at his side, pulling him to her, but he had passed out. “John… it will be all right… I swear to you, it will,” she whispered over and over again as the cell door slammed behind them, their destiny postponed a short time longer. And as she kept assuring him that all would be fine, she thought bleakly, Who says Minbari never lie?

Note to historians: This is the one entry of the emperor’s chronicles that is not strictly from his physical chronicles. It is a combination of written notes he was making at the time that he dictated his history of Babylon 5 , and audio records that were made secretly, by the emperor himself, at the time. It is believed that, knowing his final hours were upon him, he was taking extensive pains to leave as thorough an accounting as possible. That would be in keeping with the character of Londo Mollari, whoas anecdotal evidence indicates—had dreamt of this moment for so large a portion of his adult life that he likely considered it the defining moment of his existence. We of the Centauri Historical Institute believe that what follows is an accurate depiction of the emperor’s state of mind. It has been approved by Emperor Vir Cotto for inclusion into the historical records, and we wish to believe that Londo Mollari himself would likewise have endorsed it as accurate.

I looked at the lady Senna, and in a low voice, a voice that might once have been alluring when spoken by a young and handsome man, I said to her, “Dear lady… I would love to walk with you on a beach… somewhere. For just five minutes.” I felt tears welling in my eyes, and I fought them back. It was the single greatest battle of my life. “How strange… to have come this far, and to want so little.”

I turned away from her, for I did not know how much longer I could keep my eyes dry. A dear, sweet woman. Two lovely children. They could have been mine. They are the life I turned away from—the life of a different man… a lucky man.

“Children.” My voice was low and hoarse. “Will you remember this story? Will you remember me?”

“All my life, Majesty,” Luc said in wonderment.

I nodded. It would have to suffice. “Then go.”

But Luc suddenly seemed less than willing to depart. “What happened to Sheridan and Delenn?” he asked. “What about the end of the story?”

“Sheridan,” I said slowly, “became the president of a great alliance, Delenn ever at his side. And the story… is not over yet. The story is never over. Now go.”

Senna took one child in each hand, and she started to head out of the room. Then the girl, Lyssa, stopped, and inquired, “Did they live happily ever after?”

“Lyssa!” Senna said in surprise.

“Did they live happily ever after?” she repeated more insistently.

“That… remains to be seen,” I said after a moment.

And as Senna ushered them out… I remembered her. For a brief moment, I remembered who Senna was… and then it was gone.

As was she.

I used a spy device to watch Delenn and Sheridan in a tearful reunion down in their cell. Very moving.

Not everything was in place, though. Not everything was ready. Everything had to be done just right.

I picked up a bell I and rang it. Moments later, I said to the guard standing there in response to it, “I need another bottle. I will need several more bottles. Then wait one hour… and bring the prisoners here.”

He nodded and left me alone… a state to which I have become accustomed. Sometimes I think I have been alone my entire life.

I had a bit of one bottle left, and I emptied the contents into a glass. I raised it and said, “To the future… my old friends.” And I drained the contents.

I heard footsteps, and I recognized the stride. How could I not? After all these years, it was impossible for me not to. I looked up and there he was, holding several bottles on a tray. I waggled my fingers, and said, “Come here.”

Vir approached me. He had obviously encountered the guard returning with the drinks and decided to bring them to me himself. Whether the guard had turned the drinks over willingly or not, I did not know… or particularly care at that moment.