From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:26:32 1996 Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 16:24:26 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" PG13, Chapter One OK - folks, here we go... This is a slightly cut version of a longer story. The longer, NC17-rated version is already going out to the unrestrb5 list. If you're getting that list, you can ignore these posts. But...even without the NC17 sections, it's still over 200K in length, ie TONS of real plot. So, here it is, suitably edited for mass consumption! BTW: the beginning might look familiar. Sue Phillips posted it a while ago, and when I saw it, my imagination went crazy. Sue was kind enough to let me in, and this is the result! :) I'll be sending one chapter a day, there are a total of 15 chapters. Whew.... -Jenny - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. Chapter One "Hey, Tine." Justine DiFalco jumped a foot. She hadn't heard Zack coming up behind her and when he put his hand on her shoulder it was a real shock. She looked from it to his face and back again twice before he removed it. "Hey, calm down. You okay?" The brunette sighed. "I guess so. Hey, do me a favor." She pointed toward the sweet shop. "Look over there and tell me what you see." Her hand closed the sketch book surreptitiously. She wanted outside corroboration or she might think she was going mad. Zack Allen shrugged. "I see a sweet shop, a Shontaran shopkeeper, a couple of Drazi poking a plant...the usual." Justine nodded. Figured. "Thanks. What're you doing here?" "I stopped to ask if you wanted to go out with us tonight. You look like you could use it." She restrained herself from wise-cracking about what he thought she looked like; she hadn't been sleeping very well lately. Hmmm. Tonight was her night off. "You buying? Never mind. Sure. Meet you at Chico's, around what, six?" Zack smiled and sauntered off. At least he wasn't wearing that damned NightWatch armband anymore. She'd tried to talk him out of it before everything had gone insane, but he'd laughed her off. '50 credits was 50 credits,' he'd said, but she'd known in her heart that something was terribly wrong with the whole idea. And she'd been right. Not that she'd said 'I told you so' afterwards - he'd been hurt badly enough by the entire mess. He was a good person, just a bit reckless at times. Justine looked back at the sweet shop. Then opened her sketch pad. What she'd drawn was a pretty good representation of the Shontaran and his wares, with other figures lightly sketched in around them. One of those.... Zack hadn't seen it. It was a shape that was there...and that wasn't. Vaguely tripodal, vaguely dark, vaguely light...just plain vague. She shivered. Chico's was in Green Sector, a chic nightspot. Justine figured the reason for its popularity was that it gave both the human and alien visitors a chance to surreptitiously gawk at one another. Some of them did a helluva lot more than gawk, she grinned, watching a Narn and a human stumble out arm in arm. The place was packed, the lack of space giving the bar the claustrophobic air that the rest of Babylon 5 went out of its way to avoid. The noise level seemed to have jumped a few levels since her last visit as well. She spotted Zack and friends in a corner and edged her way over to them. He'd ordered her a margarita and it sat waiting, salt around the rim, looking delicious. She took a big drink. "Hear the big news?" Oh no. Not gossip again. And it was probably something else that she wouldn't be able to tell anyone at Fresh Air about. Sometimes the artist wondered why Zack told her all these things, and why his companions, mostly other security people, didn't stop him. But he did, and they didn't, so she listened, and learned. "Nope." She took another drink. Such a day. "How big?" "Real big." Allen made a show out of looking around conspiratorially then leaned in close. Not that anything short of a bullhorn could have been heard outside the realm of this table. "Sinclair's coming back to the station." She nearly dropped the margarita. The Commander? No, he was an Ambassador now. He was coming back to the station? "What for?" She tried to keep herself calm, but her mind whirred with possibilities for sketches, for notice, for...for she didn't really know what. She'd arrived on station while Sinclair was still in charge. A helluva lot had happened, most of which she didn't know about, but she'd seen him around and, occasionally, served him in Fresh Air. Sometimes alone, mostly with Catherine Sakai or someone else. He was a dynamic figure and had always treated her with respect and kindness. She'd done a sketch of him once, and just given it to him...and run away. She was afraid to find out what he'd thought...but he'd come by her stand the next day and thanked her. "That's all very hush-hush." One of the other men at the table, Fadden, grinned. "Means we don't know." The only other woman there shook her head in response. "Zack likes to be dramatic about it, you know," she said. DiFalco nodded. She knew. Oh, how she knew. "Uh, when is he arriving?" It would be a great opportunity to do sketches of his arrival and...Her thoughts broke off. She'd looked toward the door while she was talking. A man stood there. He gave off an air of slimy superiority. Beside him...a vague tripodal shape. "Zack, look over there. Who's that?" Zack's arm was around her shoulder; he'd clearly been drinking for a while before she'd arrived. He didn't look but Fadden did and said "Name's Morden," then frowned. "What's he doing down here, slumming?" "He's not alone." That comment got her a strange look. "I know you're not drunk, 'Tine, but there's no one there but him." She definitely hadn't had time to get drunk. But she'd been seeing things other people didn't all her life...it was just happening a lot more lately. And what she saw gave her the willies. It frightened her, especially these last few days. Suddenly things dropped into place. She stood up. "Hey, where're you going?" "Zack, somebody's got to do something." "About what? Morden?" The fourth person at the table, JP, seemed interested at least. And if the rumors were true, he sure as hell ought to be. Justine sighed heavily. "I've got a feeling, that's all. Something bad's going down. And with this bit about Sinclair coming back to the station... He could be in danger." Zack gave her a drunken look. "You got something for him, don't you?" "No." But she did -- there had been too many nights when she'd dreamed of herself and Jeffrey Sinclair together, doing things that, awake, would be so far from possible that it wasn't funny. She remembered the last time...about a week ago: The dreams never told her how they got there but they were always in her quarters, together, having coffee and talking. She'd look into his eyes, into the depths of them and be lost. Her hand would creep slowly across the table towards his and find it waiting for her. The touch of his skin on hers -- she'd always dreamed in color and with all the senses in full bloom -- was heady. His hand tightened around hers and he stood up, breaking off in mid- sentence. Of necessity, she stood too. He towered over her, at least a foot taller but he was so gentle. He'd reached one hand down to lift her chin so that she looked up at him. His smile, slow and sensuous, caused butterflies in her stomach, and a surge lower down in her. He'd cupped his hand behind her head and leaned down to kiss her. He pulled her closer, wrapped both strong arms around her, lifted her a bit on tiptoe so he could better apply himself. Not that she minded. She put her arms around him, kissed him in return, putting all her attention into it.... Justine pulled herself back to the present and to the people she was with. She hoped the shiver she felt hadn't given her away. Then her mind returned to dreaming. The last couple of nights, though... She'd awakened from nightmares both nights but couldn't remember what had happened. She'd soaked through her nightshift and the sheets both times and had to get up and make tea and shower before going back to bed. The last time this had happened had been right before her parents' death. She was left with the sense of terror, of deadly intent. "Something bad." Zack had pushed another drink in front of her. When she looked up again, Morden was gone....but she couldn't shake the feeling. The next morning, she looked up from straightening frames to see "Mr. Morden, isn't it?" He smiled that sensuous, slimy smile of his. "My reputation precedes me." She smiled herself, suppressing the shudder his presence...and that of his companions...caused. "Indeed. What do you want, Mr. Morden?" He cocked his head. "I believe that is my question." As somehow she knew it was. And the answer to that question would determine her fate. "Ah. I asked you first." That's it, 'Tine, stall. What did she think would happen? The longer she put it off, the worse it would be. She'd dreamed again. Woke up this morning with a face, in addition to the feeling of utter dread. A familiar face. Sinclair. The man (was he?) spread his arms. "Touche, Ms. DiFalco." He paused, seeming to consider something. Justine could see the shadowy figures around him lean toward him, as though they were talking. Did no one else see them at all? "I merely wish to offer you help. You see, I realize you've been having some -- difficulties lately. I believe I can alleviate them in some small way." Oh, he was good. Difficulties. Yeah, right. She forced herself to smile again. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Morden, but I think I can handle it myself." He seemed to consider, once again. "Is there nothing you want?" "Nothing I want badly enough to accept your most kind offer, sir." Boy, she must have gotten courage from somewhere. The horrible feeling would grow now, as the day went on. But she knew if she accepted Morden's offer, answered his question, she would doom herself...and others. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:28 1996 Date: Sat, 13 Jul 1996 12:47:09 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter 2 BEfore I forget, I need to give you a SPOILER warning here. This story is a substitution for the first part of the episode "War Without End." It wil contain some spoilers for the end of WWE2, but don't try to fit this into the timeline of WWE1. Consider it an alternative set of events leading into the results of WWE. So...if you haven't seen WWE parts one and two yet, you might want to skip this story. Otherwise...here is part two... ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. Chapter Two Justine found herself watching the crowds, unconsciously seeking just that turn of a head or a glimpse of a body in motion that reminded her of Sinclair. She had managed to keep herself from spending time in the arrival bays, not wanting to let the swirl of emotion carry her that far. But her dreams were a haunted mix of eroticism and terror, sweat-filled moments of ecstasy overflown by grotesque dark figures watching from the shadows. Something was wrong, and he was at the center of it all, she knew it. Morden was often there, watching her, always with that somehow terrifying smile. It reminded her of a predator she'd once seen on an alien vid, the toothy grimace filled with deliberate menace. Even when she couldn't see him, she felt him, and the horribly alien creatures that hovered around him. Creatures no one else could see. Did they know she could sense them? They'd never approached her again openly, but she could feel them always close by, watching. Did they have some use for her? The first time she saw Ambassador Sinclair, she almost missed him completely. It was the way he walked that first caught her eye, that combination of grace and purpose, carried in a military style - shoulders back, spine straight, eyes focused straight ahead. Yet there was something different in the way he moved now, compared to her memories, the sense of purpose more defined perhaps, more at ease with himself. Perhaps it was the clothes that startled her, the dark blue uniform abandoned for a Minbari style cloak decorated with a sapphire brooch. His hair had grayed some, too, and the angular, chiseled face held lines that had not been there before -- and a jagged scar that ran the length of his cheek, just below the high arch of his cheekbone. She winced inwardly when she saw it, feeling the pain of that wound as though it had stricken her as well. But he carried it well; not, she smiled, that this man wouldn't carry just about anything well. He was still a commanding presence, now matured and confident in his authority. A Minbari warrior, in the same sort of cloak he wore, hovered behind him, eyes darting here and there among the crowds. Sinclair's bodyguard? Whatever, the figure was never more than a foot away from the human. Now, why would a Minbari want to protect a human being? Sinclair's eyes, which had always reminded her of chocolate fudge, gleamed almost amber in the bright station lights as he turned in her direction. Justine felt her heart skip a beat as he focused on her with characteristic intensity. Her own eyes, normally a pale violet, darkened in response, but even before he could move closer to speak to her (the prospect of which both elated and terrified her), a sudden prescient sense of danger hit her hard, robbing her lungs of oxygen. Sinclair caught the expression of stark terror in her widened eyes, and turned to follow her gaze to where Morden was watching....switched back rapidly to focus on her once more. She shook her head at him, silently praying he'd understand. Justine desperately wanted to scream at him to run, to get as far away from Babylon 5 as he could, to throw herself between him and any danger that could come. There must have been some success because he started towards her again but before he could take two steps, someone stepped up next to him and drew his attention. The other man was someone she'd seen around the station before, thin with long dark hair, dressed much like the Ambassador in a Minbari-style cloak. The Minbari in the background nodded toward him. The newcomer leaned up to speak hurriedly into Sinclair's ear, and the Ambassador listened with grave attention. Then, nodding, he turned and followed the other man, all three figures melting away into the crowd...but not before he turned to fix her with a somber, measuring gaze. And then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he was gone. Drawing in a deep gulp of air, she grabbed hold of the counter top to steady herself. Stunned both by his nearness and by that still-tingling sense of danger that hovered over him, she didn't notice Morden until she felt the stench of his breath on the back of her neck. Spinning around, she gasped aloud as she put up a hand in instinctive defense. Morden met her with a smile. "Are you sure there is nothing you want? Nothing I can do for you? I think you'd be surprised at what can be accomplished." "Go away." She told him bluntly. "Now, my dear Justine..." "Get away from me or I'll call security." she threatened, trying to hide the fear that gripped her. She wanted - yes - there was much she dreamed of. But not at such a price. Morden took her refusal calmly, without losing his superior smile. "If you should change your mind..." he offered, even as he turned to slip away into the crowd. Justine was left standing against the countertop, feeling as though she'd been touched by something unutterably filthy, and yet also by something clean and pure. Sinclair's very presence had been like a ray of light, strobing through the darkness, and she clung to that memory. But there was still Morden, and somehow, even without him saying a word, she knew that he knew of her dreams of Sinclair. And she knew that the Ambassador was in mortal danger. The question was: how could she possibly convince *him* of that without making a total fool of herself? Fool or not, the decision was made. She had to tell him somehow. Ambassador Jeffrey Sinclair followed Marcus down the sterile hallway, his mind focused elsewhere. Usually, he was tightly centered on his surroundings, but recent events had overtaken him so quickly that he was still trying to absorb the revelations. He could feel the presence of The Letter in his cloak pocket, close to his heart. A part of his mind wanted to shout 'It's too soon' and the rest was chiming 'At last...' He sighed, rather dramatically, then ran a hand through his slightly graying dark hair, slicking back the bangs that were threatening to fall forward over his temples. He'd taken advantage of his Ambassadorial status to let his hair grow out of the military close-crop, mostly because he simply hadn't had time to worry about it. Now there was very little time to worry about anything, not that he'd let a little thing like that stop him from doing so. And it wasn't that he was worried about himself, he'd accepted what was to come to him. He didn't quite understand it yet, but he accepted it with a serene sense of purpose. No, his concerns were for the people he would have to leave behind: Michael, Delenn, the Rangers and his new-found friends among the Minbari. Especially Neroon. The Star-Rider Satai was still having difficulties accepting the truth of prophecy, still struggling with his hatred for humans such as Sheridan Starkiller as he insisted on calling B5's captain, and his bitterness toward Delenn. Sinclair wanted more time with him, more time with them all, but it wasn't to be. He could feel destiny calling him, a strong hand pushing at the small of his back, a voice niggling in the corners of his mind, always with him, always a part of him. "Entil'Zha?" Sinclair started, looking around him in surprise, to find Marcus gazing at him in open concern, both of them standing in front of his assigned quarters in the Ambassadorial section. He smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Marcus, I was just -thinking-." Turning towards the door, he took his key card from his pocket and entered it into the security slot. It buzzed, the door began to open. Just as he was about to step inside, Marcus and the Minbari guard, Lilann following him, a clear feminine voice called out his name, the tone sharp-edged with distress. "Ambassador Sinclair?" He turned, only to find both of his companions stepping alertly between him and the newcomer, their bodies tensed for battle. The young woman skidded up in front of them, angling her head to try to see past them to him. Sinclair recognized her instantly, having seen her only a short while before. His eyes focused intently on her drawn face. "Justine, isn't it?" She trembled with surprise at the sound of her name in his well known voice, then nodded. "Yes, Justine DiFalco. I work at Fresh Air, but I also do some art...." she broke off anxiously as she faced the hostile, fiercely protective glare of the Minbari warrior towering over her. Her eyes darted towards Marcus who had visibly relaxed. Sinclair knew how disarming that could be, but he also knew that, in this case, it was a true relaxation. Marcus could be a good judge of character; his little smile as he looked at their visitor showed that he didn't consider her a threat. "I saw you this morning." Sinclair said thoughtfully, his mind flashing back to the incident. Something had disturbed him, but it hadn't been her, rather it had been the other man she'd looked past him to see, who had set off unwelcome tingles in his mind. "Yes, I need to talk to you about that. In private, please." She stammered, wondering how she'd been able to make it this far, appearing to shrink in on herself. "Please, sir. I wouldn't disturb you if it wasn't important. I need to warn you." "Warn? What about?" Marcus exclaimed, stepping closer to her. She jumped back from him with an inarticulate gasp, and he stopped short, turning to glance back at Sinclair. Unworried though the Ranger may have been, he took his duties seriously. Sinclair was watching with a thoughtful expression on his face. That thoughtfulness gave way quickly to characteristic decisiveness. "In that case, we should take this conversation out of the hallway. Please come in, Ms. DiFalco." Sinclair issued the invitation much like an order, even as he turned and entered his quarters. Lilann was quick to follow, questioning worriedly in Adronado. "*Are you sure this is wise, Entil'Zha? We do not know if we can trust her.*" "*Perhaps, but that does not mean we shouldn't hear what she has to say.*" Sinclair's voice rose with a touch of amusement, easily answering in the same language. "*And besides, I'm sure you and Marcus can handle one young woman if she does mean to cause harm.*" He still found it hard to accept the kind of babysitting the Minbari insisted on applying to him. He'd come to accept that his own safety was of importance, for -nothing- could be allowed to stop him from completing the task ahead, but it still rubbed him the wrong way at times. He missed having the freedom to go where he wanted, when he wanted, without being trailed by at least two overprotective guards. Marcus had waited to guide the obviously upset girl into the room, and he took up a position near the entrance as the door swished shut behind them. "Please have a seat." Sinclair offered, switching effortlessly back to EA standard. Lilann hovered nervously behind him as he took a sweat next to her on the couch. Once they were both sitting comfortably, Sinclair calmly at ease, Justine nervously wringing her hands in her lap, Sinclair gently asked her what she wanted to speak to him about. The two Rangers watched, Lilann's face shuttered, Marcus with semi- guarded curiosity. How...."You're in danger!" she blurted, finally bringing up her eyes to zero in on his face. They were a striking shade of violet, large and vivid in her pale oval-shaped face. She leaned towards him, nothing for it but to just say it, the words coming tumbling from her. "I know it sounds crazy, but I've been having these dreams." Part of the dreams flashed before her eyes, bringing a bright stain to her cheeks as she tried to focus on the more -important- parts. "I've only had this kind of dreams once before, and my parents were killed right afterwards. I know it's crazy, and I'm -not- psi, at least I never tested positive for it, but I *know* there's something real happening. Darkness hovering, waiting...those horrible creatures and that awful man." She shivered, her skin bleaching pale. "Creatures? What creatures? He spoke far more sharply than he had meant to, and the intensity in his voice made her shake even more. "I'm not imagining them!" She insisted, as though he were questioning her veracity. "I know no one else seems to see them, but they are -there-. I've seen them several times now, always with that...that man." "What man?" Sinclair exchanged worried glances with Marcus who had walked towards them in response to the conversation. Justine looked to him and back to Sinclair, as if confirming that it was all right to speak in front of him. The Ambassador nodded slightly. She took a deep breath. "His name is Morden. I'm told he's been around a while, asking questions. Well, one particular question." Her voice trailed off and her face seemed to harden in fear. "What question, Justine?" Sinclair asked, voice silken smooth, reaching into her, encouraging her to confide in him. She was more than willing to do so. Glancing down at her hands, then back up into the rich amber of his eyes, she swallowed hard. "He keeps asking me what I want. What I want most. It's as though he knows what the answer is, even while he's asking, he's just waiting for me to admit it. But I refused." She smiled shakily. "I can't even say why. He gives me the creeps. I think...I think he could give me whatever I asked for, but the price I'd pay would be too damned high." This time her smile was wry. "It sounds so insane." "No, it doesn't." Sinclair responded with certainty. To him, it all sounded far too frighteningly familiar. The only question was why her? Delenn and G'Kar had both been asked that question...and turned him down. Evidence suggested Londo had not been so cautious. But they were Ambassadors in positions of power with their own governments...or had been. Of use to Morden and the Shadow allies. How could this young woman be of such importance to them? She looked at him, obviously surprised by his response. He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could, though his eyes remained somber and his voice grave. "Justine, I'd like to hear everything you've seen and heard of Morden and these creatures you think you saw. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out, no matter how insignificant you think it is." to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:37 1996 Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 14:12:35 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter Three (of 15) Again, a small SPOILER warning for "WWE." Here's the third chapter. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. Chapter Three Think she saw. He really didn't believe her. She gave an inward sigh. But she was here, sitting with him, in person, and the flutter her heart gave every time he looked at her was enough to continue with the conversation...even if he really did think she was crazy. She took a deep breath. "About three weeks ago, I started seeing them. I sketched them...but the sketchbook is in my quarters." Justine shrugged. "Anyway, for a while I only saw the creatures. Black, three legged, I think...sometimes they're so vague it's hard to tell but they frighten me. Then I saw Morden...and found out his name. Almost as though he knew I had noticed him, he came to see me the next day. But the worst is that whenever I do see him, there are these...things with him. Sometimes it looks as though they're talking to him. But no one else seems to see them!" She'd been looking down at her hands during her speech. when she looked up, there was such a seriousness in his face. "I'm really not psi. Really. I don't register on any of the Psi Corps scales. But this has been happening all my life, Ambassador. Off and on." She decided to keep looking at him; the brilliant light he was giving off was comforting. And oh, how her heart soared just being here. "I don't know what else to tell you...It just feels wrong. As if it has something to do with you...when Zack told me you were coming to the station, I ---" Marcus exchanged a worried glance with Sinclair. The word had gotten out. Justine bit her tongue. She hoped her big mouth hadn't gotten Zack in trouble...but that wasn't an unusual state of affairs for the young security officer anyway. The Ambassador was speaking. "Go on, Justine." She just looked at him. Shrugged. "That's all really. I had to warn you, even if it is just a nebulous feeling I have." She looked apologetic; talking about it like this made it seem unreal somehow. Sinclair put his hand on hers. She shivered. There was a connection here...but she threw off the thought in favor of being realistic. "It will be all right, Justine. Thank you for telling us about it." Lilann stared with continued suspicion at Justine "Entil'zha, she could be bait in a trap." he warned. "I don't think so. I believe her." Sinclair smiled. Justine had to keep herself from melting. "I remember her from the last time I was here, when this was my station." There was a curious longing mixed with acceptance in that statement. Lilann spoke again in Adronado. "*Entil'zha, this is too sudden. At least, let us keep her under guard until we find out what is going on. You are...*" Sinclair laughed. Spoke in the same language. "*I am too important. Yes, I know, Lilann. I know the consequences if I do not*..." He broke off in mid-sentence, not ready to discuss -that- openly, then switched gears smoothly, persuasively. "*But do you not trust me to know what is right for me? I trust her. I think this ability of hers is important...she must be protected.*" Justine stared. His laugh had sounded so calm, so natural. As though his life weren't hanging in the balance. His life? Where had that come from? She was convinced that his life wasn't the only thing at stake. She took another deep breath, hoped she didn't hyperventilate she'd been doing so much of that, and spoke. "I -- I wanted you to know this. I'll go now and let you get back to...to whatever you need to be doing." She stood up warily, watching the three men before her. "I shouldn't bother you anymore." If it ever had been. She took a step toward the door; Lilann blocked her, scowling. "Justine," Sinclair said, "Lilann thinks you should be guarded. So do I." Both she and the Minbari looked at him in astonishment. "But not for the same reasons. You see these things; we don't. That ability could be useful to me, to *us*. I think we need to protect you." Protect her? "I can handle myself, thank you." His answering smile was warm and confident. "I think you can...but humor me. It would make me feel better about things." She cocked her head at him. There was a gleam in his eye. Her pulse speeded up, but she shoved the groundswell of emotion down as hard as she could. "All right...but you have to let me sketch you again." She retorted, nearly holding her breath as she met his intense gaze, straight on. "Oh? I still have the one you gave me years ago, you know." She blushed...she was pretty when she blushed. "That's flattering. But -- I still want to sketch you again." "Why?" Though it was Marcus who asked the question, she answered Sinclair. She searched for words. "It's something that I... You're different now...there's an aura...sometimes I see these auras around people...so bright, so comforting so peaceful. I ---" Where was her brain? Melting beneath the regard of those amber pools. "Morden comes off dark, ebony dark, as though no light could ever penetrate it...or be released from it." She visibly shivered. "Please." Sinclair looked interested. "Auras. And you're sure you're not psi?" She smiled and shook her head. "If that's the price for keeping you from harm's way, then I would be honored to pay it." Justine stared at him. There was something in his voice, something she couldn't define but it spoke to something in her...and she felt comfortable again. At ease. But he was saying something else. "I'd like to see these sketches you did. They're in your quarters?" At her nod, he turned to Cole. "Marcus, I'd like you to go back to her quarters with her, to retrieve them. Just to be on the safe side." Marcus looked hesitant. He obviously didn't want to leave Sinclair with only one guardian. Justine almost laughed, caught the young man's eye. His look softened, just a tiny, tiny bit, but his intent was still focused totally on Sinclair. At that moment, the com sounded. Sinclair gave her a look that said 'don't move' and went to take it. "Sinclair." It was Ambassador Delenn. Justine instantly recognized the unusual face with its exotic mixture of human and Minbari features. The Minbari Ambassador smiled into the vid, speaking directly to Sinclair. "Hello, old friend." "Delenn." The rich voice was warm with welcome and friendliness. And something else? "Good timing, I was just about to call you." She inclined her head. "I am glad. Jeffrey, we must talk." Jeffrey? Justine felt just a bit inferior, a bit left out, here. There was no earthly reason for it, but she could immediately sense that there was more than friendship between these two...and she felt a sharp stab of jealousy. Silly. Foolish. She had no right to feel that way. He went silent for a moment and his face seemed to close up. Justine saw him in aura again. Bright, but with a tinge of gray. Something was wrong. Again, she didn't know what it was but she felt she might be able to help. She found herself leaning forward, as though she could send him support. "I agree. The sooner the better. Shall I meet you?" "Yes." Delenn smiled. It lit up her face; she was very beautiful, long brown hair and green eyes bright. The connection was broken. Sinclair turned back to his visitor. "Marcus, take Justine back to her quarters. Stay with her." He looked down at her. "Please, Justine, let Marcus stay with you. I trust him with my life." Unspoken was the plea that if he did so with his, she would be safe doing the same. "Wait for me there, please. We need to talk some more." She swallowed. Wait for him? But --- well, tonight, she'd just call in sick. "All right, Ambassador." Lilann still looked sick at the idea of letting Sinclair out with just one guardian. His pale complexion seemed to turn even whiter. It was almost funny...but 'Tine didn't think now would be the time to laugh. The Ambassador said a word in Adronado and Lilann, with a look that spoke volumes at her -- don't be alone with that one -- followed him out the door. "Ms. DiFalco, if you would..." Marcus' accent was cultured, sounded almost British even though she knew he was not from Earth originally. He gestured at the door. She smiled at him - he really should loosen up a bit - and preceded him. Lilann glowered at his back throughout the short walk to Delenn's quarters. Sinclair ignored him, his mind too busy trying to incorporate this new development into everything else he had to cope with. If the young woman - Justine - really *could* see the Shadows, this could be a major breakthrough. They knew the Shadows feared telepaths...but she insisted she wasn't psi. At least not in the ordinary sense. So that could be a big advantage. If her ability could be put to proper use, and the Shadows couldn't sense her as psi... But maybe they could. Or why would Morden have focused in on her? Damn it, he didn't have time to deal with this now, and yet, he couldn't get it, couldn't get *her* out of his mind. The way she had looked at him with those huge violet eyes, those truly lovely eyes, as though he were the center of the universe... He *liked* being the center of her universe, and that realization shook him hard. This was the wrong time, there was *no* time. Drawing in a deep breath, he shut the swirl of emotion down hard, using one of the Minbari techniques he'd studied to calm his breathing and heart rate. By the time he reached Delenn's door, not the slightest sign of the turmoil in his mind showed in his face or manner. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:41 1996 Date: Mon, 15 Jul 1996 16:13:42 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chpt 4 (of 15) Again....small SPOILER warning for "War Without End" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. Chapter Four Justine felt an incredible rush of relief walking into the familiar environs of her quarters. She drew in and released a deep breath, ignoring the still silent Marcus as he stepped through the door. She plopped herself down on the couch, stretched out her legs, and closed her eyes. Her mind kept floating from thought to thought, skittering from image to image, sound to sound. His face. That kept resurfacing, tugging at her, stealing away any equilibrium she had. That handsome, warm, forceful countenance with its accompanying glow of light was all she could think about. Except for his voice, the low velvet of it in her ears, focused on her, making her heart sing and her stomach flip. Her fingers began to itch, and her eyes jerked open. Leaping up, she scanned the room for her sketchbook, then ran over to it. Marcus gave a startled gasp as she broke into motion, pushing past him towards the kitchen counter and seized the wide notebook and the pens scattered around it. Once she had her goal in her hands, she hurried back over to the couch, ruffled through hastily to find a blank page, and then began to draw in swift, sure strokes. Curiosity lighting his somber face, Marcus came over to sit down beside her, peering over her shoulder as she skillfully worked the pens on paper. A pair of faces took shape under her hand, exposed in side-view, each staring off the side of the page. One was inked in heavy black strokes, the pen digging, ragged and angry, into the page, while the other formed of light airy strokes, drawn in elegant, loving detail. It didn't take long for Marcus to identify both. He knew Entil'Zha's face almost better than his own. Justine's rendition was clear and true, the lines sharp and vivid, the expression on that chiseled face nearing the sublime. The look of a prophet, a seer, staring off into the distance with eyes that burned with purpose and strength. The other face made his heart skip a beat. He recognized Morden easily, for Sinclair's rangers had been watching him for many long months. But this version was missing the apparent humanity of his surface, instead it seemed to sink into the page, screaming of darkness and an evil so inhuman that it turned the ordinary face into a grotesque caricature. Her pen skidded around him, then began to scribble again, her hand jerking, slashing, then leaping away from the page. She picked up another pen in her other hand, and began to draw with both simultaneously. Her lower lip was drawn up under teeth, and was beginning to swell under the pressure. Her eyes were hooded, focused both on the page in her lap and inward, outward, on something only she could see. Until it began to take shape under her rapid hands. Around Sinclair, the soft yellow pen filled the page with a gentle glow. It moved about him like a halo, forcing the long lean lines of his face to stand out in sharp relief. Around Morden, the ebony pen threw heavy shadows, with triangular heads and long spidery arms. The shapes were barely distinguishable, but the effect was vivid, realistic and terrifying. A portrait of light and darkness, good and evil, visualized and personified. Finally, she stopped, glared at her handiwork, then sighed long and deep. Tossing the pens aside, she grabbed the edge of the page as though to tear it out of the notebook, but Marcus suddenly moved to restrain her. "It isn't right!" She cried out, feeling frustrated with the results. "It's incredible!" Marcus insisted, closing his hands on her thing wrists. She gasped, turning wide, startled eyes on him as though she hadn't known he was there. "You're very good." He said conversationally, as though he wasn't sitting here restraining her wrists, sent to guard her by the one man he'd live or die for. She yanked hard to pull her hands free and he willingly let her go. As the sketchbook dropped into her lap, she grimaced at the drawing, then looked up to find him, surprisingly, smiling at her. She tried to remain grim, but his humor was contagious. Essaying a wry grin, she sighed aloud. "I can never get it to look *just* the way I see it." Marcus shrugged, leaning over her to look more closely at the sketch. "Looks pretty amazing to me, but then I can't even draw a straight line properly. Can I see the others?" She paused, always hesitant to show her work to a stranger but now that he'd relaxed his guard, she couldn't help liking him. The face that she'd found dark and forbidding earlier now seemed full of warmth and good humor, his eyes sparkling with ready amusement. "All right, sure." She handed the book over to him, then picked up a pen to nibble on while he flipped through from page to page silently. When he was done, he stopped and looked up to stare at her, his face drawn cold again. "What is it?" She asked, feeling her stomach sink. They weren't -that- bad! "You really -can- see the Shadows!" The question was more a statement and she answered with a tight nod. His mouth worked silently as he flipped over another page, back to another of the inevitable drawings of Sinclair. This was a full front view, and the brown eyes stared up, heatedly, almost as though they would burn through the paper itself. Marcus didn't say a word, just looked at it with an odd expression on his face, and she found herself stumbling over the questions she wanted, needed, to ask. "What's going on? I know he's at the center of something, but I can't figure out what. I know Morden and those creatures are bad, evil and I'm sure he's the good guy in all this -- but what the hell is -this-?! Why are you and that Minbari warrior guarding him so carefully? Why would the Minbari want to guard a human anyway? I mean, I know he's the Ambassador, but I can't help feeling that there's more to it!" He turned to stare at her intensely, and she had to force herself not to shift under that fierce regard. He seemed to be trying to see through her, into her, as though he could read her mind and judge from there how much he should say. Finally, he just shrugged. "It's a matter of honor. The Minbari take duty very seriously. We've been assigned to keep Entil'Zha safe, so to fail would mean being dishonored." She stifled a groan of irritation. They both knew he'd left a lot out. Her eyes flickered to the bright aqua stone in his brooch and she blurted out yet another question. "Why do you all wear those brooches? What do they mean? I've seen others around wearing them, too." Marcus looked down, then looked way from her. "They are gifts from the Minbari to people who spend time on Minbar." His mouth clamped shut, but not before another word crept out. "Symbols." She gave him a frustrated look, and his face broke into a wry, yet welcoming smile. Taking one more serious look at her drawing of Sinclair, he sighed, then spoke more openly. "I'm sorry, Justine, but the decision to tell you more is not mine to make." His eyes fluttered back to the sketch in his lap, and she made the requisite leap of understanding. "It's -his- decision, isn't it?" Marcus nodded. "Yes. If Entil'Zha decides you can be trusted with things...he'll tell you himself." "What does that mean?" She cocked her head. "Why do you call him that?" He smiled softly, though he obviously chose his words with care. "It's a Minbari honorific. A term of respect. I spent a year living on Minbar and I've picked up a few of their customs along with the language. Entil'Zha -- well, like a lot of Minbari phrases, it loses something in the translation. Many of their words have multiple meanings. Consider it a title, like Ambassador, but that's not what it means. Really." When she frowned again, he shrugged his shoulders at her. So she switched topics, hoping to get him to open up on something else. "You lived on Minbar?" He nodded. "Yup. Lovely place. A bit cold at times, but the buildings are crystal and they can be absolutely stunning." He smiled with the memory. "You worked in the Earth Embassy?" Again he froze up, though not so strongly as before. "Well, sort of. Every human who goes to Minbar must go through the Embassy and I did spend a good deal of time there." She knew that wasn't the entire truth either...and suddenly she saw a warm orange/red glow around him. She gasped...but he seemed not to have noticed. "But you're working for the Ambassador...ummEntil'Zha...now, right?" "Yeah, sort of..." he replied, just as unhelpful as before. "But you've been on Babylon 5 for months now...I've seen you." She explained when he gave her a sharp look. He sighed, and pushed his hair back from his face. "Yeah. I...well, I gather information." "You're a spy? For Sinclair?" she exclaimed, surprise and curiosity making her eyes sparkle. He grimaced, shook his head. "Not really. Well, sort of. Well, consider me a researcher. That's all." He looked distinctly uncomfortable and since she'd already realized she liked him despite herself, she decided to ease up on him a little. "More stuff he'll have to tell me about, right?" He gave her a look of intense relief and chuckled lightly. "Figured." They both looked down at the drawing again. "You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?" Justine asked, a long moment later, understanding prickling at her senses. She had finally recognized the look in his eyes. It was hero worship, equal parts awe and respect, colored by friendship. That struck her harder than anything else, for how many men could inspire that kind of adoration and yet retain such a level of personal closeness? Marcus glanced at her, startled, then twisted his mouth wryly. "Yeah, I guess so." He paused, then spoke more firmly. "He gave me a reason to go on living when I thought I'd lost everything that mattered to me. I'd kill for him without hesitation. I'd die for him in an instant. If he told me to step out of an airlock without a space suit, I think I'd probably ask him how big a step to take." He suddenly broke into harsh laughter, which stopped as abruptly as it started. She gazed at him and he explained in an unnaturally calm voice. "I told him that once and he got really, really angry with me. I think it's the closest I've ever seen him get to actually losing his temper. He said that what he wanted from me was a damn sight more difficult than my death." The pause told her more than words. "He wanted me to *live* for him." He stopped there, staring out into nothing. Before she could speak, he continued. "He was right." "About what?" she asked stunned by his revelations. "Living is harder than dying." Delenn was waiting for him. She stood when he entered, stretching out a hand in greeting. He matched her gesture, stepping close enough so that their arms crossed and they could touch each other with their palms. They bowed formally, then Sinclair smiled warmly. "Hello, old friend." he said softly. "Hello, dear friend." she replied, her verdant eyes sparkling like emeralds. She nodded briefly to Lilann, then looked around in surprise. "Where is Marcus?" Lilann gave an almost human snort, and Sinclair threw him an irritated glance before responding to Delenn. "I asked him to do something for me." Delenn sighed. "Jeffrey, you promised me..." "I know." He interrupted. "Delenn, this was important, an Lilann is quite capable of watching my back for a little while." She was unfazed. Glaring firmly at him, she reminded him forcibly, "You promised you would keep -two- guards with you at all times. Surely you could have waited long enough for another to take Marcus' place?" "I'm not going to sit around waiting for another guard to show up when I've got things to do. I don't have much time, Delenn, and I refuse to waste it." He was equally firm. The argument was an old one, but this time, he struck home. Pain blossomed in her eyes and her mouth trembled. Instinctively, he reached out to reassure her. Taking her hand, he enclosed it within both of his. "Delenn, shakeer nilach *soulmate*, I'm fine. You know Lilann would never let me come to harm and I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." She relaxed slightly, even as she gave him a disbelieving look. "You are not in the least capable of taking care of yourself. You are hopelessly careless with your own life and I cannot allow you to get into trouble now." He bowed his head over their clasped hands, then looked back up into her eyes. "I know, Delenn. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better." Though his voice was sincere, there was a glitter to his eyes that belied the words. She nodded, sighed, then turned to Lilann. "Please call for a replacement for Marcus and then wait outside. Entil'Zha and I have much to discuss. Alone." Lilann bowed deeply to her, even more so to Sinclair and turned towards the vid console. He made his call quickly, efficiently and slipped quietly from the room. Meanwhile, Delenn urged Sinclair to sit and began to pour some tea. After they had both sipped their tea, they quickly reviewed the status of their mission. Delenn reported that the equipment loading on the WhiteStar was going well. "We must be cautious not to attract attention, so it will take a while longer. But we should be ready to leave within two days at the outside." Sinclair nodded, his mouth tightening slightly. So little time... "And the rift in Sector 14?" "Draal is working on it. He will be ready when we are." she replied. "Good." He said, putting down his cup. "How much have you told Sheridan so far?" Again, she sighed. "Not as much as I'd like. He's confused and curious, but is willing to trust me. I promised him more information once we leave." "I think that's best for now," he responded. He smiled. "I'm not sure how to begin to explain all this." Delenn returned the smile. "I know. I've guessed something like this was coming for a while, and even so..." She shook her head. "Sometimes you just have to do what is needed and trust that all will be as it should be." Sinclair leaned back into the couch. "I suppose so." Clasping his hands in his lap, he turned dark caramel eyes on her. "What about the Chrysalis machine?" Her face darkened, her features closing up. "It is here. Draal sent it on the first shipment and I had Lennier bring it to me. I have carefully kept it separate from the one I already have. Jeffrey..." "You will show me how to use it?" He asked with a calm he wasn't sure was real. Her perceptive glance let him know without words that she could sense his unease. But she let him retain the appearance of serenity, simply nodding her agreement. "Of course. Whenever you are ready." "Thank you." His voice was soft, sincere. "It is my honor to serve," she said, falling back on familiar formality in an attempt to hold back her own emotions. He tilted his head to the side, showing amusement at her words, and she suddenly found herself smiling at him. He smiled back and the emotional storm passed them by for the time being. Placing her cup on the table beside his, she changed the subject. "What did you need Marcus to do that couldn't wait?" Sinclair jerked in his seat. Good grief, he'd actually forgotten for a moment. Too much was happening too quickly. He felt as though he were riding an out-of-control star fury, tumbling through space. Running a hand through his hair, he focused his thoughts before answering. "I had a visitor today." At the concern in Delenn's eyes, he smiled reassuringly. "A young woman who works on the station. She's been here for a few years, since before I was reassigned to Minbar." He smiled briefly. "I think she works in one of the restaurants, and I know she's an artist. "A very good one -- in fact, she drew that sketch of me you liked so much." Delenn smiled at the memory. "Yes, I remember. It was very true." Then she frowned, not quite understanding. "So she wanted to draw you again?" "No, well, yes, but that's not the reason she came to see me. Apparently, she can see the Shadows." "What?" Delenn jerked upright, her eyes widening. "Where? How?" "Here on the station." He answered grimly. Her expression darkened at the reply and he explained quickly. "She's seen them several times, always with Morden. Apparently, he's noticed her as well. Asked her the same question he asked you and the other Ambassadors. 'What did she want?'" "And what did she tell him?" Delenn's voice was strung taut with fear. Sinclair shook his head. "Nothing. He scared her. She basically told him to get lost." His smile now was approving. "Which was smart. But apparently she's able to see the Shadow creatures around him and she's been able to link their presence to me. She's been having nightmares about a danger to me, which she's now decided involved Morden. I don't think she understands it all, but she knows more than she realizes." "Do -you- believe her?" Delenn asked. He nodded. "Yes. I've talked to her several times before, though briefly, and I think she's exactly what she says she is. I'm not sure how she can see them, since she swears she's not a telepath, but if she can, it could be useful to us." "If it's not a trap for you." Delenn reminded him. Sinclair sighed. "I don't think so, at least not directly. I think they know she can sense them, which is why Morden is focusing on her. Right now, I'm more worried for her than for myself." Delenn nodded. That was typical. No matter how much he seemed to understand and accept what was ahead of him, he still couldn't seem to recognize his own true value. But then, that was part of what made him who he was, part of why he was the Chosen One. Sinclair had never needed to be tested the way she and Sheridan had been, he had proven himself daily, word by word and deed by deed. He had, in fact, been the standard by which they had been judged, she knew that now. And somehow, it didn't bother her much except for the frustration over his tendency to disregard his own safety. But that was an old and unproductive argument. "So you sent Marcus to guard her?" She guessed accurately. He nodded. "Yes. She's drawn sketches of what she's seen. I'd like to see those, and talk to her some more. If she does have the ability to see the Shadows, she could be of great help to us... to you. She's smart, resourceful and courageous. I'd think she'd be a fine Ranger." "You want to send her to Minbar?" "If we can convince her of it, yes." He replied. "Which may not be easy. I think she's pretty stubborn." Delenn smiled. "A useful, if occasionally annoying quality. And not an unusual one." She stared pointedly at him. He grinned unabashedly. "I'd like you to come talk to her with me, take a look at her sketches." "I would be glad to," she replied with warmth, though her voice grew firm as she continued. "But if it appears that she might be a danger to you, you will let us protect you." Her tone brooked no argument He grimaced but nodded acquiescence. She smiled, stood. "Then let us proceed." to be continued.... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:44 1996 Date: Tue, 16 Jul 1996 17:03:49 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter 5 (of 15) Again - SPOILER warning for WWE. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. Chapter Five Justine had discovered that Marcus was quite good company, once he relaxed. He had a wild sense of humor and a head full of outrageous stories. She doubted half of them were true, but she was having too much fun to argue about it. They were both laughing easily when the door chime sounded. Marcus was instantly sober, jumping to his feet. Gesturing for her to wait, he cautiously approached the doorway, sliding up so that he was just to the side of the entrance. "Who?" he demanded. "Sinclair," came the simple, self-assured reply. Slumping with the release of tension, Marcus stepped back and smiled as he instructed the door to open. It swished aside, revealing the tall, red-cloaked Entil'Zha and his entourage. Delenn was close to his side, her delicate hand resting on his arm, her head almost touching his shoulder. Sinclair allowed her to precede him into the room, and she walked forward with natural grace. He followed her, holding up his hand towards the two brown cloaked Minbari behind him. They nodded briefly, then split aside to stand on either side of the still open doorway, on guard. The door slid shut, enclosing Justine and her three visitors in the small cluttered room. Justine nodded to Sinclair, trying to ignore the clamor of her heart. His presence was like a stimulant, intoxicating, heady. It made her nerves tingle. The corners of his mouth lifted in reply, though he did not smile fully, and his eyes remained somber. He looked from her to Delenn then gestured the introduction. "Justine, this is Ambassador Delenn. Delenn, the young lady I told you of, Justine DiFalco." Delenn closed her hands together and inclined her head. Justine returned the gesture, studying the Minbari Ambassador carefully. This was the closest she'd ever gotten to the exotic Minbari, but she'd seen her around on many occasions. Delenn was stunningly beautiful, even more so since her change. A meld of human and Minbari physical characteristics, she had been graced with the best of both worlds. The small bone crest was an elegant decoration amid her dark hair. Her eyes shone like emeralds, enhanced by the fair perfection of her skin. She was, simply, breathtaking, and Justine found herself suddenly ashamed of her own appearance. She knew her hands and clothes were inkstained, and her hair was slipping lose of the knot she'd tossed it into that morning. But Sinclair was waiting, his gaze burning into her, making her skin tingle, and she felt a now familiar rush of heat in her cheeks. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, then gestured for them to sit down. Sinclair waited for Delenn to do so before sitting down beside her, facing Justine who had taken the only other chair in the room. Marcus remained standing, positioning himself behind Sinclair's right shoulder. "Thank you for seeing us," Sinclair said. "Oh, sure," Justine replied as nonchalantly as she could, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear as unobtrusively as possible. "I suppose you want to see my sketches." He nodded, his eyes drifting down to the book laying on the coffeetable amid a sprawl of multi-colored pens. "This is it?" he asked. 'Tine nodded, trying to ignore the catch of her breath in her throat as he reached out to pick it up. She was always nervous about it. It was too much a part of her. Her work was her creation, her life, an expression of her deepest emotions, desires, fears, needs. To sit here and let -him- see these sketches was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She'd dreamed of impressing him with her talent, but now that the moment had arrived, she was frightened. Not so much of what he thought of her ability, but more of what he might see within those drawings. She felt hopelessly exposed and could barely suppress the impulse to grab the notebook out of his hand, and flee as far and as fast as she could. She stilled herself. Clasped her hands in her lap, tangled her fingers together, and concentrated on something quite simple. Remembering how to breathe. He paged through them slowly, methodically, stopping now and then to study a particular page, then moving on. Delenn watched over his shoulder, her lovely face calm and inexpressive. Until they reached the last drawing. The response was barely perceptible, but it was there, the widening of the green eyes, a parting of the red lips. Delenn reached out to close her hand on Sinclair's arm, and he turned his head to meet her gaze. The communication was instant, total, absorbing. Justine felt it, saw it, shuddered with a violent sense of exclusion. Her heart sank, her stomach settled like a lead weight in her belly. The closeness between these two was obvious; they hardly needed to exchange a word to share their understanding. She knew she'd never be able to compete with that, not that she'd ever had a chance to anyway. Fighting off the tumult of emotion threatening to overwhelm her, she almost didn't realize Delenn was speaking to her. "...have a great talent. Your work speaks truthfully." It was a sincere compliment. Feeling her cheeks begin to burn again, she pushed a smile at the other woman. "Thank you, Ambassador." Sinclair was still studying the drawing, but at the sound of her voice, he slowly lifted his head to look directly at her. She froze under his scrutiny, waiting for him to speak. He did so with measured words, his tone serious. "You really can see the Shadows." It was a statement of fact, but it suddenly made her angry. Wasn't that what she'd been trying to tell him all along. "Of course I can," she said impatiently. "Now, would you mind telling me what on earth they are?" Again there was a quick expressive exchange of glances between the two Ambassadors. Justine bit at her lower lip, though she continued to glare at Sinclair. He lifted an eyebrow at Delenn, she tilted her head at him, and he sighed, then spoke fluently in the Minbari language. Delenn answered in kind, her hands fluttering gracefully. Sinclair listened gravely, then turned his head to look at Marcus. The tall man nodded, making a quick comment, again in the alien tongue. That did it for Justine. "Look, if you want to talk about me, fine. But if you're going to do it in front of me, dammit, how about using a language I can understand? If this involves me, I have a right to know what's going on." Delenn and Marcus looked startled, then embarrassed but Sinclair merely smiled, slowly, luxuriously, sensually. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, while a grooved dimple dipped into his cheek. His eyes twinkled as they focused on her. "You're right, and I apologize," he said, while Delenn bowed her head in agreement. Justine continued to glare at him though, making clear she wanted more than an apology. He paused long enough to gaze briefly at the sketch in his hands, then looked back up at Justine, this time with somber eyes that seemed to hold the universe itself within their depths. He took a deep breath. "We call them Shadows," he began. "They are a very ancient race, much older than all the known races except perhaps, the Vorlons. We know little about them, except that they are very powerful and very evil. A thousand years ago, they struck out from their home world, destroying everything in their path. Several of the races of the time, including the Minbari and Vorlons, joined together to fight them. It was a long and hard-fought war, but the alliance managed to drive the Shadows out, scattering the few survivors into the edges of the galaxy. There they have waited, slowly recovering and rebuilding, preparing to attack again. That time is coming soon." Justine's eyes widened with shocked comprehension. "These Shadows are the creatures I see around that man, Morden?" Sinclair glanced at Delenn and she was the one who answered. "We believe so, yes. None of us have actually seen them. We have old reports, legends, descriptions passed down from generation to generation. But it has been many hundreds of years since they have been among us. You are the first I know of in this time to actually - see- one of them. We knew they were here, preparing, spying, but we could never be sure of exactly where or when." Hearing it was almost as bad as seeing them. "But how is it I can see them?" Delenn shook her head. "We do not know. We have discovered that they fear telepaths. Perhaps you have some ability in that direction." "No. I'm not psi!" Justine declared vehemently. She still had nightmares about the experience of her testing at the hands of the Psi Corps. She feared the black suited Psi Cops and their arrogant, menacing attitude. The last thing she wanted was to be forced into their hands. But they had found her singularly lacking in telepathic ability. "Perhaps not," Delenn said thoughtfully. "Maybe you have a different kind of talent. What matters is that you can see the Shadows where others cannot." Her elegant face turned serious and she turned to Sinclair. "I fear you were right to be concerned for her safety. If they know she can see them..." The shivers were coming more forcibly now, and Justine hugged herself tightly. "How could they know? I've never done anything to attract their attention." But she remembered the suspicion that Morden knew about her dreams. Delenn shrugged, Sinclair leaned towards her. "Perhaps they can sense you as you sense them. It doesn't matter. I promise you, Justine, we'll do everything we can to protect you." She focused on him, meeting his gaze almost defiantly. "Who's we?" she challenged. "What else haven't you told me?" Perceptive, this one. Sinclair sighed. "A lot. For the moment, all you need to know is that there's a great darkness coming, a war that will make all previous ones seem insignificant by comparison. A few of the Minbari and the Vorlons have been watching and waiting for this for a long, long time. Now that it is coming, some of us are beginning to prepare for it. To train warriors, gather allies, and plan for the struggle ahead." "Why don't you just warn everyone?" she asked, her eyes darting from one of her guests to the other. Again it was Delenn who answered. "Because our only advantage is that they don't know that we know they are here. They are moving slowly now, carefully. If they realize that we are aware of them, they would strike out before we are ready and we won't stand a chance against them. But, if we can take them by surprise..." "But they know about you," Justine exclaimed. "Morden is aware of you," she told Sinclair urgently. "I'm sure of it. I see him, you in my dreams. I feel danger for you, Ambassador. Your life is in danger. The images aren't clear but I can see you falling..." she struggled hard for the words to describe the nightmarish scenes that visited her too often of late. "There's a glow around you, but the darkness is closing in squeezing tightly on it. You're reaching for something, but the darkness wants you to fail. They'll try to stop you." Delenn gasped, Marcus' face whitened, but Sinclair barely responded. His expression was thoughtful but not disturbed. He nodded slowly. "Jeffrey..." Delenn began, but he lifted a hand to stop her. "I'm not sure the explanation is that simple. Morden and his Shadow Masters may suspect I have role to play in the Army of the Light, but if they were certain of it, they'd have moved against me long before now." "Maybe they were just waiting for a good opportunity..." Marcus interrupted. "No." Sinclair shook his head, pursing his lips. "I think Justine may be sensing something else." "Jeffrey," Delenn placed a warning hand on his arm and they locked eyes, holding each other for a long breath, then finally letting go. Delenn squeezed his arm, her fingers convulsing against the fabric of his sleeve, and he reached over to close his hand over hers. "It is a possibility," he insisted. Another pang of jealousy struck Justine like a knife twisting in her breast, and the words broke out before she could control them. "I wish you'd stop talking in riddles. Can't you say something, anything, that makes sense?" Marcus chuckled, his smile breaking free before he could stifle it. Delenn glared at him, but Sinclair glanced at him with an understanding smile of his own. Then he turned back to Justine. "I know this is a lot to absorb all at once. Sometimes I find it hard to accept myself. But the danger is real; a Great Darkness is coming soon. All we can do is prepare for it as best we can in the remaining time." He paused, studying her intently again. "Justine, for the last couple of years, I have been assembling an army to fight the Shadows. Some of my people, My Rangers, are Minbari, many are human. They have been drawn to learn, to work together, to live and fight, even to die for this cause. I think you could be of great help to us, not just because of your ability to see our enemy, but because of your other talents as well." Justine felt her mouth drop open. She gasped but couldn't find any intelligible words. She stared, astonished. He gazed sadly, firmly at her. "I'm asking for your help. To join us in the fight against the Shadows. It won't be easy, but we need you." "What...What do you want me to do?" She finally got the question out, though she was still staggering beneath the revelations couples with the idea that he was asking -her- for help. He thought -she- could help -him-! She was having a hard time concentrating on anything else, even the knowledge of what those dark creatures were. Was she managing to hide her feelings that well? Couldn't he tell that she'd have done anything for him, crawled down on all fours at his feet, if it would only make him notice her? But he was answering her already, and she forced herself to pay attention to his words. Actually, listening to him was easy - she loved the sound of his voice, rich and silken-soft, it poured over her sense like sweet honey. But the meaning was partially lost in her pleasure at the sound itself. "...go to Minbar...Ranger training..." Two clips of what he was saying rang in her ears and she jerked in her seat. "Wait a minute! You want -me- to got o Minbar?" He nodded, the expression on his face becoming hesitant, almost pleading. "Yes, preferably. There are Ranger camps elsewhere, but Minbar is the biggest and I have most of my best instructors there." She was stunned again. Her mind tumbled, trying to fit the pieces in place. The fact that the Shadow creatures were an evil menace was easy enough to accept; hell, she'd known that all along, even if she hadn't quite conceptualized it so clearly. So, too, she knew and accepted that he was deeply involved in fighting them; he was on the side of good -- she had always know that as well. Good versus evil, not a difficult concept in the abstract, but seeing it play out in front to you in very real, physical terms was something else. And then, to have the obvious leader of the right side asking for your help - Well, she couldn't help wondering when she was going to wake up. She stared at him for a while. He stared back. She waited for the dream to end. It didn't. She unobtrusively pinched her arm. It hurt. And she wasn't waking up either. "This is for real, isn't it?" she finally asked. All three of them nodded solemnly at her. "OK, I'll do what you ask," she said, feeling a bit like Marcus, that she would do anything he asked. Then her stomach caught up with her, flipping over again. she yelled at herself. she responded, even as hysteria began to bubble up inside her. But Sinclair was smiling at her now and that silenced both inner voices. All that she was focused on his smile, the way his lips curled over his teeth, the way his eyes sparkled, the way the dimples formed in his cheeks. God, he was gorgeous when he smiled like that. Heat flashed through her, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. that obnoxious inner voice cried out again. She silently told it to go stuff itself, while she listened to him thank her, his voice full with warmth and sincerity. She hardly noticed when Delenn added her appreciation, going on at length about how important their work was, though she did catch the gentle shine of approval in Marcus' dark eyes. She flashed him a grimace, and he grinned openly at her, winking as he did so. She covered her mouth to hide a chuckle, some of the tension draining away in response to his irreverent good humor. She noticed Sinclair watching her, her stomach took another tumble, until she caught the gleam of humor in his eyes. So he had a sense of humor too, which was not really a surprise, though she'd only caught bare glimpses of it before. He was complicated indeed and the thought that she might get a chance to unravel him more fully made her heart race. Anticipation pooled in her bloodstream, even though she knew that she was probably getting in deeply over her head. Delenn finally finished speaking, obviously unaware of the silent interplay between the others. Sinclair touched her arm gently, affectionately, then turned back to Justine. "We can make more formal arrangements later. I've got some things I need to attend to, but I'd like to come back and see you later, if that's all right?" All right? It was fantastic, and Justine had to literally bite her tongue to keep from shouting her reply. Somehow, though, it came out calmly, her voice steadier than it had any right to be. "Ahhh, yes, I'd like that." "Good." He said approvingly. "Then we'll let you go now. I'll come by here later tonight and we can talk some more then." She nodded and he smiled as he stood up. He offered Delenn his hand and she took it, getting effortlessly to her feet. Guiding her to the door, Sinclair turned to Marcus. "I'd like you to come with me, Marcus, if you don't mind. Roshan can watch over Justine for a while." He turned to look down at her. "I'd feel better if I left a guard with you. He can stay outside, while you're here, but if you go out, I'd like you to take him with you. If only for -my- peace of mind." She frowned, but nodded. He smiled sympathetically at her. His reaction to Marcus and Lilann's earlier protectiveness had made it clear that he didn't like being babysat either. But sometimes it was necessary, and if he could put up with it, so could she, at least for a little while. "Thank you," he said again, then he turned towards the door. When it opened, he walked through it, Delenn and Marcus following close behind. After it shut, leaving her alone in the suddenly empty room, she curled up into a tight ball in her seat and sat, silent, trembling, alone -- for a very long time. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:47 1996 Date: Wed, 17 Jul 1996 19:00:21 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter Six (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. Some SPOILERS for "War Without End". Chapter Six Justine hadn't left her quarters. She'd finally pulled herself together after the revelations of that afternoon. Called David at Fresh Aire, pleaded severe headache. Not entirely a lie. Showered. Changed. If Ambassador Sinclair was going to come back that night, she was damned sure she'd look good this time. She was just straightening her hair and trying to decide, for the fifth time, if this blouse *really* went with this skirt when the door chimed. Roshen wouldn't have let them chime unless they were safe. Or she told herself that anyway. "Come." The door slid open and Sinclair was there, smiling. "Come in, Ambassador." He'd taken a few moments somewhere to freshen up himself. Still in the Minbari robes, they covered a cotton shirt and trousers that looked very like his old uniform. Old habits died hard, perhaps. She poured coffee. "So, Justine, when did you come to Babylon 5?" So, they were going to do life stories. But if it kept him talking to her, she'd tell him everything. "Right after you took over here, I think it was. I hocked everything I owned to get up here and called in a favor from David over at Fresh Air." He looked pensive, stirred his coffee without ever having tasted it. Finally sipped it. "Why did you leave Earth?" The ten million credit question. "I was running away, I suppose. From Earth. From life." Sinclair looked at her from under his eyebrows. "All right, from a man. He married somebody else...on our wedding day." He touched her hand lightly. "I'm sorry." She shrugged. "It was for the best, actually. I like it here, Ambassador. I --" "Jeff." A step in the right direction. But being asked to use his first name still left a warm feeling in her belly. "Okay, Jeff. I feel more at home here. It's never dull and I've made some good friends." He stirred cream into his coffee. "Like Zack?" Where was this going? But she stifled the reflection and laughed. "No. Zack's a good guy. We go out for drinks, a little fun here and there but he...he doesn't do it for me." How and why was she being so open with him? He'd been open with her about things; it was only fair. "Was there ever anyone who 'did it' for you?" He smiled as he said it, but there was an undercurrent of emotion she couldn't identify. She peered at him. "Third degree time, eh? Want to know what you're getting into with me?" Where was this going, and why? What was he really doing here, alone with her? Not that she wanted him to leave but he was Jeffrey Sinclair. Surely Delenn would be waiting for him. Justine swallowed. Admonished herself silently. If he were here now, it was because he wanted to be. "Just answer the question." Although he said it banteringly, Justine felt a flutter in her stomach. "Okay." But she still took a minute to compose herself, to decide exactly what to say. "There *was* one man. But he found someone else before I had a chance" or the guts "to tell him. Last I heard, they'd gotten married." "Oh." He suddenly looked up. "The last you heard?" She shrugged...and it poured out of her. "Well, he was posted somewhere else suddenly and she disappeared too. I guess I just assumed they got married. They'd gotten engaged, I know." Justine was shaking inside. It had just hit her. My god. I'm living my dreams. Coffee. Here. Him and me and.. Her face must have gone blank. All she could see was him..and the glow he was giving off. He was so beautiful... He broke off in mid-sentence. "Is anything wrong?" Frowned. "Are they here?" She shook her head. "No, no." She laughed. It sounded false to her ears, but she couldn't very well tell him, now could she? He reached across the table, took her hand. Hers waited for him. Without thought, without wishing it. He stood up. Perforce, she stood up too, looking up at him. He was almost a foot taller than she, but looking at him, getting a stiff neck wasn't a problem for her. He led her around the table until they were standing toe to toe. The warmth of his hand sent shivers through her. Justine hoped he didn't notice. But he frowned. A tiny one, but a frown, and pulled her gently closer to him. Uh oh. His other hand came down to grasp her shoulder as he drew her up, on tip toe, bending slowly to put his lips on hers. Holy mother of god. It was her dream. They didn't have a real "relationship", not yet, maybe never. But this was her dream come true. He tasted of coffee, sweet and creamy. And of himself, which was something that couldn't really be defined. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss. Even if he came to his senses a second from now, she would remember this moment forever. Her last relationship -had- been before she'd come to Babylon 5. The sweetness of this was too good, too real to let go. All of her attention was on him, all of her mental, emotional and physical being was concentrated on kissing him. If this was as far as it went, then so be it. But by god, she wanted him to remember too. His arms encircled her waist, lifting her off the floor for just a moment. Then, he pulled back. 'Tine's eyes were closed; she didn't want to lose this moment but... "You're smaller than I thought." His voice was rich and dark with hints of passion just under the surface. As she sank back to earth (figuratively speaking), she opened her eyes. Hoped she didn't look as flustered as she felt. Tried to smile, was positive it didn't come off as she meant it. "My family's all short." Right, DiFalco, just toss it off as if it didn't mean a thing. But his next words showed that it was going to mean something. "Can you put the privacy mode on?" Dumbly, she nodded. Numbly, she walked to the com unit to set the locks and the com unit for emergency only. He asked her that? He -- "We never got married." In the moments of astonishment that comment brought, he was suddenly right next to her, wrapping his arms around her, lifting her. She felt so warm in his arms, so right. Tine couldn't think; automatically she put her arms back around him to keep from falling. He carried her that way into the bedroom, her arms clinging to his shoulders, her waist enclosed in the iron strength of his arms... .....She felt him begin to stroke her hair and let herself drift off to sleep cradled in his grasp. His heart beat beneath her ear, a comforting sound. Breathing his scent made her feel safe and secure... There was death in the darkness. Death and...something else. Dread loss. A sense that there could be no good left anywhere. Jeff's face. He was holding her, making love to her...all was right. Then --- it wasn't Jeff anymore...his face morphed into Morden's face. Sinclair was on the other side of her. She was being pulled apart; between light and dark. That was where the dead feeling came from; he was leaving her. But they'd had such a short time! They swam together in her nightmares. Shadows. Huge spider ships bursting out of hyperspace, firing at Babylon 5; the station..... Fire. Death. Jeff...dead...in her arms... Holy mother --- She woke up screaming. Sinclair hurried to the bed; he'd gotten up. Justine's eyes were open but she was obviously not seeing a thing. She kept screaming. He held her, pulled her in close. The thought that he'd have to give this up, this warm body, this woman willing to give him anything, had kept him awake. How could he? Now, he rocked her as her screams subsided and she fell into tears. One thing he'd realized was that he'd be doing them both a disservice by holding out a future for them....but dammit, this was so sweet, so wonderful. How could he leave this for...for what The Letter told him. She'd said she'd go to Minbar; he wanted nothing more now than to go back with her. He stroked her hair, murmured nonsense syllables until she was breathing normally. She'd wrapped her arms around him, holding to him as though he were a lifeline in a sea of insanity. He smiled. Perhaps they both were. He was afraid he'd have to let go. And they'd both sink beyond hope, beyond help. So alone. But not yet. He turned her face up and kissed her gently, a kiss that deepened slowly as she finally calmed and responded. His hands moved on her body with none of the roughness, the urgency, even desperation, that had sent him to her in the first place. In this moment, Sinclair was convinced that the events described in his Letter were fantasies, that they had no relationship to the real world. In this moment, the real world was himself...and Justine. And afterwards, as he settled her to sleep in his arms, he felt tears against his chest. As much as he wanted to tell her it would be all right, that he would take care of her, somehow, he couldn't. They held each other through the night. To be continued..... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:27:52 1996 Date: Thu, 18 Jul 1996 15:51:33 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter Seven (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Seven She woke before him, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek showing that he still slept. He needed that. She slipped out of bed quietly, gently, trying not to disturb him. Coming back from the fresher, she stood for a moment, watching him. He was gorgeous as he slept, his face so peaceful. What she would give to be able to give him that kind of peace forever. But that thought reminded her of what she'd learned the previous afternoon...and realized that that information gave none of them peace, would give none of them peace until the battle was done one way or the other. She reached down softly, touched the stubbled cheek lightly. He murmured something and moved away a bit. Justine tiptoed to the outer room, to grab her pad and pens. She sat lightly on the bed and began to draw. The figure was beautiful, recumbent on a bed. She began to lose herself, as she sometimes did while sketching, the pens scratching eerily, almost of their own accord. First she dropped one, then another, then picked them up again. When she finished, she looked down at what she had drawn. Sinclair, asleep, a saint's halo around him, pulsing bright, holding back the dark shapes that she'd torn into the paper beyond it. One of those shapes --- she gasped, too loudly, for Sinclair's eyes opened suddenly. "Justine, are you all right?" His hand reached out for her...and she flung the pad from her violently and slipped back down beside him, putting her arms around him, letting him hold her, holding onto the reality of him. When her heart had stilled, when the fear of what she had drawn had faded, she looked up into those still, dark pools and smiled. "I'm all right." And she kissed him. Tried to push herself out of bed but he wouldn't let her go. She giggled. "Breakfast." "No, not yet." Sinclair pulled her back down, met her lips with his. He wasn't quite ready to let this go, not just yet. Truth be told, neither was she. Justine let herself melt into his kiss, become part of him, tasting the morning in him...and loving him all the more. He released her finally, stroked her hair. "You had nightmares." He was back to business. They lay there, naked, bodies pressed close together, and he wanted to know about her dreams. She barely remembered it...only the screaming. The fear...the utter despair. "I dreamed you died. Morden was there. I dreamed the station was destroyed. And I was in the middle --- I was somehow responsible." Her voice -- where had this dispassionate tone come from? He kissed her hair. "And just now?" How could he switch back and forth from lover to Ambassador so quickly? But, his hands on her body calmed her objections. "I drew you. I had to. But -- there's something there, in the drawing. I --" she huddled in to him, spoke into his chest, "Sometimes I lose myself when I draw and when I see the picture, I don't remember things being there. Not often, but more so lately. There were shapes behind you...reaching for you...I..." He hugged her hard, almost painfully but it didn't matter. She was suddenly positive there was more pain to come. They held each other for a while, neither speaking. She heard his heart beat beneath her ear and felt warm and safe. His body was hot and solid next to her, a reminder that what had happened in the last day or so was real, that what had happened last night hadn't been another dream. He stroked her hair softly, kissed the top of her head. "Justine..." Hesitance tinged his voice. "You have to go." She pushed herself up to look down at him, saw the relief in his eyes that he didn't have to find the words to tell her. "Meetings and all." Meetings and all. That was one way to put it. But Sinclair just nodded and smiled at her. "Yes. Breakfast. Eh?" They got out of bed slowly, and he showered while she fixed what little she had in her small kitchen. For a brief moment she could pretend she was a normal woman making breakfast for her man...not someone who'd been thrust into chaos due to a talent she didn't want and hadn't asked for. Neither of them were really hungry. She handed him a coffee cup as he came out, dressed now and running the other hand absently through his hair. He emptied the cup, put it down without looking on the table. Scooped up his cloak, settled it on his shoulders. She stepped up to him to help, running her small hands lightly over the brooch at his shoulder. He smiled. "If you go to Minbar, you'll have one of your own." The door flashed open and he was gone. Justine moved about, cleaning up, mind awhirl. There was so very much to think about. But she kept coming back to last night, to the sound of her name moaned over and over again in a voice well-deep with passion. His voice. She smiled to herself. It hadn't matched her dreams...but it was better than any dream could have been. She began to hum as she put the dishes in the washer, walked on curiously leaden clouds into the bedroom... where she stared at the sketchpad where it still lay on the floor where she'd thrown it that morning. What she'd drawn -- Morden's "friends" frightened her more than she cared to admit, more than she could find words to express. She hadn't had to find the words with Jeff, his soul had reached out to hers and reassured it. He knew. He -knew-. His bravery clutched at her, a part of him of which she had not dreamed. She should have known; he'd always been courageous. His history spoke of it, and she knew his past well: The Battle of the Line, his history here on the station, his Ambassadorship to Minbar. How he liked his sex, even, a tiny self-satisfied smile coming to her lips at the thought. How many women knew that? He hadn't mentioned Catherine Sakai by name, in any way at all since he'd told her they hadn't married. If he could forget her so completely, Justine very well ought to be able to. So, she pushed the unwelcome thought from her with a savagery that made her feel both triumphant and a little guilty. Justine picked up the sketchpad, tossed it onto the unmade bed. Housekeeping was not one of her talents... She had a job to do, though, and ought really to be getting to her stand in the Zocolo. Make a few credits, perhaps even find a way to still the little, crazy voice in her head that said all was not as good as it seemed. He had things to do. An Ambassador was a busy man. And with these Shadows around, there was probably a lot more to it than that. Thoughts flitting about her head in a tumult of "which one do you want to think about now", she showered, dressed and headed out of her quarters. The sketchpad lay forgotten on her bed. Halfway to the Zocolo, she realized she'd left it. Turning on her heels, exasperation on her face, she stopped short. The man stood before her, smiling that unctuous smile that seemed to be his perpetual expression. The elation of the night before and this morning flooded out of her, leaving icy dregs behind. "Mr. Morden." "Ms. DiFalco. A lovely morning, isn't it?" Justine pressed her lips together firmly. This conversation was not happening. If she refused to hold up her part of it, maybe he'd go away. The man went on. "Going to see the Ambassador? Did you have a good evening?" She felt color rise to her cheeks with a rush of consternation. How the hell did he know? Why did he know? What did -he- want of her? That question scared her even though it came from her own mind. That belonged to him...after what Jeff and Delenn had told her.... A vague tripedal shape weaved behind him as she ran her thoughts down like scared prey before a mountain lion. Calm yourself, 'Tine. You can get through this. But Morden was just standing, waiting, knowing. She took a deep breath. "What do you want, Mr. Morden?" His expression became one of mock concern. "Why do you keep asking me that question? I've told you I merely wish to help. You know, I imagine the Ambassador is meeting with Delenn at the moment. They're very close, you know." Close? But he was continuing. "Yes, very friendly, Ambassador Sinclair and Delenn of the Minbari. As I understand it, this is an ongoing relationship." Justine could have kicked herself. He couldn't mean what her fevered brain, caught up in the events of last night, thought he meant. Relationship? She kept silent but her thoughts eddied about in a sudden whirlpool of emotion. "It's touching to see them together, you know. I'm sure you must have noticed." A vision from the other day; Delenn's hand on Jeff's arm, squeezing it, their eyes locked together, a communication between them that she couldn't hope to understand, or share. She bit back her retort. "You can be with him, you know. Merely say the words." Morden took her by surprise with the abrupt change of subject. This time she saw herself and Sinclair together, older...alone, but together. Yet, as much as that scene warmed her heart, it felt odd. Peculiar. "Well, please keep me in mind, should you change your mind about my assistance. There is much we can do for you; all you need do is ask." He gave her an insincere bow and faded away. Almost literally. By the time she'd brought her brain and heartrate back under control, he was gone. But her mind was preoccupied anyway. Jeff and Delenn. Without thinking, she turned her steps away from the Zocolo, away from business and in the direction of his quarters. Was last night only a game? No, of course not. Silly girl. He couldn't, wouldn't fake something like that. Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter 8 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Eight He couldn't seem to concentrate. He felt weighted down, heavy, the universe itself was resting on his shoulders. He had thought that he had accepted what was coming to him, but now... it suddenly seemed harder, the sacrifice too costly. He wanted to cry, to scream, to rage, to turn this burden over to someone else, -anyone- else. His hands shook as he picked up another piece of colorful crystal, and when he attempted to put in it place, his arm jerked and down came the entire structure. "Damn!" Shiny fragments scattered everywhere, across the table, onto the carpet, tumbling around his feet. He grabbed for a handful, then dropped to a crouch on the floor. Reaching out to pick up a small purple rod, he gasped when a hand closed around his wrist. "Jeffrey?" Delenn's voice was low, thick with concern. He paused, but couldn't bring himself to look up into her somber emerald eyes. If he met her gaze, he'd lose it, and he couldn't bear to let her see that. She'd suffered enough without the additional burden of his pain. But she wasn't going to release him. Gracefully lowering herself down beside him, she tugged insistently on his arm. "Jeffrey..." He drew in a ragged breath and angled his head around to look at her. When he did so, she smiled, though it never reached her sorrowful eyes. He tried to return it nonetheless, but the expression twisted on itself, he knew it was more an anguished grimace than a genuine smile. "Old friend, what is wrong?" she asked, holding on to him with both hands. He sighed, and let himself fall backward so that he was sitting against the couch, his knees drawn up against his chest. His movement pulled her with him, and she wriggled over to sit beside him, still holding on to his hand with both of hers. He drew their clasped hands up, adding his free one over hers, then squeezed tightly. "Why?" he asked simply, the single word speaking volumes. "- WHY?-" Liquid pooled in her eyes, making them shine like polished gem stones, mirroring his anguish back at him a thousand-fold. Her fingers convulsed on his, digging into his flesh as though she could somehow meld hers with his. "Because it is," she began, then stopped, her lips moving silently as she sought some kind of explanation that made sense. "Because you can." "Why me?" he shot back. "Why does it -have- to be me? Why not you or Sheridan or anyone else? I'm not special or different. I'm not that smart, or gifted. Justine is gifted..." His voice broke there, images flashing before his mind of the previous night. Those soul- deep violet eyes half-shuttered in ecstasy as she cried out his name; the feel of her, soft and sultry, warm and welcoming, flesh burning against flesh. He wanted her so desperately. To clutch her against his body and lose himself in the shelter of her embrace. He wanted... "Jeffrey," Delenn's voice was a melodic whisper against his shoulder. "You -are- special. You -can- do this, you must. It is your calling, your destiny." "But why?" he demanded it again, as though by asking often enough, the universe might open up and answer him itself. She trembled against him, feeling the pain and passion of his need and struggling to help him, if only she could find the right words. "Because you can do it. Perhaps it is as simple as that. You will make this happen, because you can make it happen. Perhaps you were born to it, perhaps you chose it without even knowing that you were doing so. I do not know. You are here because you were meant to be here. Some things simply are - and must be accepted." He shook his head. "Damn it, Delenn, that's not good enough. I can't simply hand over my entire life just because you say it is meant to be that way. I need... I... How can I do this? How can I leave my family, my friends, the people I love? You're asking me to give up everything, even who I am." "No!" She denied that fiercely, then her voice softened, sweet and urgent. "No, you cannot give up who you are. What will change is the surface only. Don't you see that it is you who is needed. Valen is you, what he accomplishes, -you- accomplish, because Jeffrey Sinclair is a man of strength and courage, integrity and honor. A man who would offer his life for anyone who needed it, who respects and understands the beliefs of others, even when they contradict his own. Valen lives in you, of you, he -is- you. You not only cannot change what is in your heart and soul, you must not." She disentangled one of her hands, and reached up to cup his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. Her fingers were a gentle, tender pressure on his jaw, a loving caress. "Jeffrey, I know this is a heavy burden for you to bear, and if I could take any of it from you, I would. If I could suffer for you, I would..." "No, Delenn," he managed a pale imitation of a smile as he lifted a hand up to curve it over hers, trapping her hand between his palm and his cheek. "God, I don't want that. I just..." He swallowed hard, his eyes burning into hers, then he laughed briefly, the tone taut with the edge of hysteria. "I guess I'm more frightened than I thought I was." "Oh..." her throat caught, a single tear pooling in the corner of her eye. "I -know-. When I did this," she turned to stare at the scattered fragments of the alien crystal machine, "I was terrified. Even more so when it was over, and there was no turning back, and I was changed in a way I still do not fully understand. This body - it still surprises me. Sometimes I look in the mirror and a complete stranger stares back. Half of my people think I'm some kind of monster, and even those who still respect me sometime look at me so oddly..." The tears fell more openly now, though silently, gliding down her cheeks in salty droplets. His reaction was instant, instinctive. Releasing the clasp of their hands, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against his chest. She twisted around to bury her face against his cloak, her arms reaching up to twine around his neck. "I'm sorry, Delenn," he whispered against her hair, his cheek rubbing against her bone crest. "I'm so sorry." "As am I," she sobbed. "Oh Jeffrey, I don't want you to go. I don't want to lose you. But there isn't any other way. If you do not go - if Valen does not lead my people to victory - then everything is lost. We are all lost. The Shadows will destroy everything." He tightened his embrace, enclosing her shaking body with his own. "I won't let that happen," he promised, his voice raw with anguished acceptance. His tone settled, growling low in his chest. "I won't let it happen." The strength of resolution squeezed in upon his heart, pushing some of the sorrow upwards, forcing the tears to flood free. He didn't want to leave her either, to leave any of them, but even as he'd raged against the demands upon him, he'd known deep inside that there hadn't been another choice. He'd do this, as he had always done it, as he would always do it... The cost of the sacrifice was high, the cost of avoiding it was beyond comprehension. The inevitable pair of guards were standing outside the door to his quarters. Marcus was there, dressed in the same, now-familiar, uniform, the dark tunic and cloak, decorated by the shimmering, gold-encased aqua stone. They nodded to her, the Minbari giving her a sharp look of recognition. She peered up at him, trying to place the face, but frankly, she still found it hard to see individual differences in the Minbari. This could have been the first one she'd met, but she couldn't have sworn to it. Regardless, they both recognized her. Stepping aside, Marcus grinned boyishly at her. She returned his smile as she touched the doorchime, her entire body tensing as she waited for Sinclair to respond. How much had the night before meant to him? She was still hesitant to believe that he cared as much for her as she did for him, though she couldn't help feeling an exultant sense of hope. He'd held her so tenderly, yet with an edge of need so poignant it made her ache with the memory of it. She wished they could have stayed there forever, bodies entwined in a safe warm cocoon of their own making, protected from the dark forces gathering around them. She shivered despite herself, as she pressed the button a second time. What was taking him so long to respond?...But he was a busy man, so... The door swished open, allowing her entrance, and she had to force herself not to run through the opening. To run straight into the welcoming circle of his arms and cling to him. His presence would shut out Morden's menacing sneer, that hateful knowing look. Somehow, though, she entered the room steadily, showing a calm she didn't feel, until she turned and looked and saw. Her eyes were caught first by the jumble of crystalline fragments that were scattered throughout the room, as though it had rained in solid color. Next was Sinclair himself, standing against the couch, his face drawn, his eyes reddened. Then, last, she saw the one thing that she did not want to see. Delenn was pressed up against the taller man, her head resting in the curve of his shoulder. Her hand was flat against his chest, his larger one closed over it, holding it to his heart, his other arm tight around her small shoulders, supporting her. The Minbari Ambassador's exotic face was flushed, her cheeks burning with color, her eyes gleaming almost feverishly, her lips bright red and trembling. The look of a woman coming up from a session of lovemaking? Justine's heart twisted in her breast, a sword's edge of pain striking at her lungs. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears welled unbidden in her eyes. She bit down so hard on her lower lip, she broke the skin; the salty bitter taste of her own blood thick on her tongue. But she held. She did not break down; she did not scream. "Justine?" His voice was rough, ragged, the velvet tone ripped apart by emotion. But what emotion it was, she couldn't tell. She didn't answer, pinioning him with her huge pale eyes, trying desperately to read past the handsome surface of his face. Trying and failing. Had she ever known him? No, of course not. Like any fool in love with an ideal, she'd forgotten to take into account the reality of the man. Her dream of their lovemaking had been realized, and altered...how many times had she thought last night... She knew now, should have known before, that dreams weren't reality, even hers, and reality had a bitter edge to it. She'd been a fool. Not a big surprise. Delenn lifted her head and met Justine's hardened eyes, letting out a sharp gasp of surprise. Understanding flew across her face, the blush of her porcelain skin bleaching. Those emerald eyes gleamed, widened, then darkened with a look of anguish, followed by something else; something Justine felt strike her to the bone - pity, tempered by sorrow and understanding, yet painfully clear. Sinclair was stepping forward, letting his hand, still clasped to Delenn's, fall down between their bodies, but Justine's ire was already rising sharply. He said her name again, and she blasted him with a glare of unspoken anger, betrayal, cutting cold. He put out his free hand towards her, palm up, a gesture of entreaty, and he tried again to reach her. "Justine, there are some things you don't know..." "I'm sure there are a lot of things I don't know," she retorted, her voice coming from far away, distant to her own hearing. "But I learn quickly. Not quickly enough, but I get there." He was shaking his head, a look of frustration crossing his angular features, and she continued before he could interrupt. She didn't want to hear him speak again, afraid if she listened to his voice, she'd break down. All she had as a barrier, as a protection against the sheer agony of this, was her anger, and she needed it more than she needed air to breath. "It's fine, really," she said, biting off her words with icy enunciation. "We're all adults. Hey - it happens all the time. A little relaxation from the war effort. Or is it that -she-'s not human enough to meet certain needs? What exactly is she anyway?" Justine watched the words strike home with a mixture of triumph and horror, a tear dripping heedlessly down Delenn's soft cheek. "Justine!" This time Sinclair's voice was harsh, ridden with anger. Protective of the woman at his side. 'Tine raised a hand, shutting him off. Her eyes flashed purple fire as she rounded on him. "Forget it, Ambassador. Hell, I let myself into it, asked for it. You like being in control, and I apparently like being used. A fair game." "God, Justine," his voice was a low rasp as he finally let go of Delenn and closed in on her. Moving faster than she would have thought possible, he took hold of her shoulders. "Do you really believe what you are saying? Do you really think I'd..." "That you'd what? Use me? Isn't that exactly what you were doing, or are you going to tell me that you fell passionately in love with me yesterday? That you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" He froze, a look of such utter hopelessness flashing across his face that it made her stomach sink like a lead balloon into the pit of her belly. His eyes widened with anguish, then narrowed with lightening bolt of pain. Slowly, he shook his head, stepped back, and released his grip on her. Not saying a word, he bowed his head towards the floor. Behind him, Delenn let out an inarticulate cry, then hurried forward, to take hold of him. "You don't understand," she cried out, splaying her fingers on his arm, tightly, possessively. "I understand well enough," Justine's control finally broke, and she found herself backing up until she hit the kitchen counter. Crying out in surprise, the tears finally flooded loose, and she turned towards the doorway. It opened for her, and she fled outwards, blindly, running down the long, sterile hallway, unheeding of where she was going. Not caring, as long as she got as far away as she could. Marcus was torn between duty and compassion. He looked back at the door, over to Lilann...who gave no sign he had noticed anything. Making a quick decision, he left his post to follow Justine's path. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:03 1996 Date: Sat, 20 Jul 1996 14:37:57 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter 8 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Nine "Jeffrey..." Delenn couldn't even find the words to ask, but he knew without another words what she meant. He sank back down to his knees, burying his head in his hands. When he looked up, she was down beside him, still clutching at his arm. "I wanted to be human a little while longer. I wanted to pretend it wasn't real. While I was with her, I could forget for a while. I could pretend I had a future here. That I wouldn't be alone in an alien world for the rest of my life." "Oh," Delenn exclaimed, reaching out to trace the side of his face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, helplessly. "But..." "But it was selfish," he interrupted with fierce self- condemnation. "I knew she'd be willing, and I needed so badly that I didn't stop to consider the consequences. Or I considered and didn't care. I was holding on to something I can't have." He studied Delenn for a moment. "Or can't I? Does Valen have a life outside of the war? Do I get a chance at loving someone? Do I?" His voice rose, stridently, and she shivered. "I...I do not know. The records aren't that complete. You've seen everything: a few speeches, some writings, the prophecies kept by the temples, but that's all. I wish I could promise you something more, but I cannot." He nodded, bitter-edged acceptance etching lines around his eyes and mouth. "And even if I get a chance, it won't be the same. It won't be human. What am I, Delenn?" He lifted his hands and stared at them. "I feel no different than I ever was. I was born to human parents on Mars colony - how do I live as a Minbari? And yet, I feel drawn to it. When I first came to Minbar I felt like I was coming home. I'd step into a building, a place I'd never been before, and yet I'd -know- it. I understand your people, I feel a part of them, and yet I feel so separate. So alone. I just don't understand!" "I know," she replied softly, sympathy running bone deep through the simple syllables. "I feel the same, sometimes. Like I belong to both and yet to neither. I'm not sure there is a simple answer, Jeffrey. I wish I had one." "I know, Delenn," he sighed, suddenly pushing upwards to stand. He helped her get up beside him, then he gazed around him, a wry smile twisting his mouth. "And I've made a mess of things." She followed his eyes, then answered dryly. "So, you clean it up." He chuckled softly, then sombered quickly. "I wish it were all that simple." She nodded, angling her head to look up into his eyes. "You owe her the truth now, Jeffrey." He frowned, but inclined his head in agreement. "Yes, at least. And one hell of an apology as well. God, Delenn, I didn't want to hurt her. And I do care, so much so that it aches inside." His breath rattled against his lungs as though in punctuation, and she tightened her grip on his arm. "I know, which is why you have to be honest with her. Tell her the truth, I think she'll understand better than you think she will." "If she does, she'll know more than I do," he said wryly. "Then maybe she'll help you understand." Sinclair gave her a skeptical look, and Delenn smiled tenderly at him. "Go, -talk- to her." She waved at the debris of the Chrysalis machine. "This can wait a little while longer." He glanced at it all for a moment, shrugging his shoulders in tightly. Silent, he took hold of her hand, brought it up to his chest, and bowed to her over it. Then releasing her, he turned and left the room. The last thing Delenn saw before the door slid shut was a guard moving to follow him; then she was left alone in his quarters, standing amid the bright fragments of his destiny. She left there blindly. Didn't see anyone in front of her, only vaguely felt people brush against her in her flight away from there, away from them. She was crying but didn't notice the tears. All she could see was Sinclair...and Delenn...and he was touching her, holding her, as though... Somehow, Justine found her way to her quarters, locked herself in and gave in to the tears. He hadn't wanted -her- last night, hadn't wanted her at all. They were only interested in her power to see those things. That's all. Why had she been such a fool as to think he wanted her? Diplomat. He'd been diplomatic. Making her feel at ease until he got what he wanted. The tears subsided. Well, he -- and this Army of Light business could go take an aerial fornication at a perambulating pastry for all she cared. Justine began to move around her quarters, frenzied. Grabbing stuff and cramming it into a bag. One bag. That's all. She could leave all the faster with only one bag. She had to get out of here, had to put space between her and Jeffrey Sinclair. Stopped. He stared out at her from her sketchbook, brown eyes warm, the glow about him still comforting. She sat down slowly. Leave him? When he needed her? But -- She was still looking at the picture she'd drawn of him when her door buzzer sounded. The chime brought her back to reality, to anger. "Who is it?" Her voice didn't sound like hers, it was harsh and rough. "Marcus. May I talk to you?" "Go away, Marcus." She'd come to like the Ranger but she knew he was here because -he-, Entil'Zha had asked him to be. "Go away." "I'm not leaving, Justine. You can't stay in there forever. I'll just sit here, waiting, wasting away. Eventually, you'll either come out, or...or I'll die. You'd come out finally to discover the pale corpse of a man left pining in the hallway, before the world to see." Justine could almost see him shrug, smiled a little bit in spite of herself. "So, let me in." Pause. "Please." But she had to harden her heart. "Then rot there, dammit." Silence. "Justine." That's all, just her name. He had a point, a fucking goddamn point. If he really did stay out there, she couldn't leave without him seeing her, without him trying to stop her. They would both rot here. She somehow realized that he meant what he said. That whether he was there because Sinclair had told him to follow her or not, Marcus Cole was a man of his word. Sighing, she said "Come." The door slid open, Marcus entered. He was alone, thank god, and the door slid shut behind him. "You shouldn't have run away." "Oh really?" She stalked up to him, glaring at him toe-to- toe. "Why not? I saw everything I needed to see, Marcus. Jeff...oh, excuse me, Entil'Zha and Ambassador Delenn. They have something I can never match, never hope to match. I was so stupid, Marcus, so fucking stupid. A girl in love. A foolish, silly, stupid girl in love..." Her voice trailed off and she felt the tears coming again. Cole reached out to her, enfolded her in a hug that had nothing sexual in it at all as she began to sob. "I just wanted to help. I just wanted him to be safe." His cloak was becoming soaked through but he didn't seem to care. His arms felt warm and safe. She put her own arms around him and hugged him. There was no denying that having someone to hold her was comforting. There was also no denying that somewhere, inside all the anger, all the betrayal, she still wished it was Jeff instead. Marcus would do; he was here, he was warm and alive. "I guess I wanted too much." "You need to talk to him, Justine." "Talk to him?" She pulled her head back, took a step backwards out of his grasp. "So his voice can lull me into thinking I'm doing the Right thing, to think that whatever he wants is what I want? No matter what I want? No matter what I feel?" There was a moment of silence. "Did you ever think about what he feels?" "I got a great idea of what he feels just now." Justine turned away, grabbed blindly for a sketchbook and a pen, stuffed them into the bag atop bundled clothes. She had no idea of whether they were clothes she'd need, whether they actually matched together, just that they were clothes. She stood there, hand on the clasp of the bag, back straight. She was not going to cry again, not in front of Marcus. No. She choked back a sob, swallowed the lump in her throat, turned around again. "I think I understand what he's feeling right now, Marcus." "Justine..." Now his voice was pleading with her. He was clearly at a loss. Witty Marcus, who seemed ready and able with a joke or a pun at the drop of a ppg, now seemed unsure. "Justine, this situation is hard for all of us. Him more than any." He swallowed. She could see him visibly steel himself. "I can't explain it to you; he can. -Talk- to him. I don't know what happened between you, but it will work itself out." She almost started to laugh, but thinking about it made it seem clear that it would just turn into sobs again. Work itself out. Ha. That was funny...if you turned it on its head. But -- She glanced down. Some time, somehow, she had torn the sketch of the Ambassador she'd done out of her book...and it sat on the table, mocking her. Just his face made her heart melt, her soul fly. Even now. NOOO. Not now. Not after....but Marcus was talking again. "Please, Justine." "Oh, Marcus." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Go back to your master, Ranger, and tell him you failed in your mission. Tell him not to send you out again...because the results would be the same." "He doesn't know I'm here." The words dropped in the silence like a rock in water. "He didn't send me. I thought -- I thought I could help." Help. Well, that's all she'd wanted to do anyway. Help. And Sinclair hadn't told him to come? When she turned around, he'd moved silently up behind her. Justine stared at him. She was tired, so tired. She walked slowly to the couch, sank down onto it, didn't stop him as he walked over and sat with her, took her hands in his, made her smile remembering what he'd done after she'd sketched Sinclair the other day. The rage seeped out of her. She still felt betrayed...but, stealing a look at the sketch still on the table, she sighed. Maybe she did owe it to him to talk to him, to ask him to explain. And what would she do if he didn't? That wasn't a question she could answer right now. It wasn't a question she wanted to answer right now. Everything had moved so fast since he'd arrived. "Marcus," her hands squeezed his and he looked at her, startled. He'd been as far away as she had. "I'll talk to him...if he'll talk to me. Will he?" Marcus smiled. "I think...I think that he would not be Entil-Zha if he would not." Justine found herself returning his smile. "Stay with me for a while? We can have coffee." He nodded but gestured to her to stay where she was, and went to the kitchen himself. Sinclair saw Marcus follow Justine's rapidly disappearing form down the hall. He hurried after, knowing Delenn understood, but unsure about what he was doing himself and why he was doing it. He stopped down the hall from her quarters. Marcus was standing outside, talking to the door. Sinclair smiled. The boy had a way about him. Finally, the door slid open and Marcus slipped inside. With a dismal certainty, he knew she would never have let -him- in right now. Jeff frowned. Skulking out here in the hallway...without a bodyguard. What would Delenn think? But it was important that Justine not think badly of him. They needed her. He needed her...though Delenn's words were true, he still needed her. If nothing else, he needed her memory. He was vaguely aware of Lilann stepping up gently behind him, a look of reproach on his face. He didn't acknowledge it, simply accepted. He had to talk to her. Delenn had been right...damn her. He had to do this; couldn't let the Shadows win if it were within his power to stop them. But.. He had to talk to Justine. Had to explain. He closed his eyes, seeing her face again. He had to see her. But could he trust himself to hold her again? To touch her? He could smell her scent, the soap she used in the morning, feel her skin beneath his hands, taste her.... Sinclair tore himself back to the present. What must Lilann think? Smiled wryly. Sometimes he wasn't sure the Minbari Ranger thought at all, just acted. Still... He took a deep breath and stepped forward. Talk to her. Explain it to her. Perhaps Delenn is right...perhaps she can help me, help us both, to understand. Lilann at his shoulder, he pressed the doorchime with as firm a touch as he could manage. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:08 1996 Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 09:18:01 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapt.10 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Ten Justine was still wiping the tears off of her face when the doorchime rang. She stiffened, looking up sharply to meet Marcus' eyes as he put down the coffeepot. It didn't take much to figure out who it had to be - even the buzzer itself sounded like -him-. Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part; the hopeful part of her soul praying that he'd care enough to come after her? she told herself, grimacing as she took one more swipe at her sore eyes, then drew her shoulders back and glared at the door. "Come!" she demanded, waiting with a lungs that felt like they were going to burst with the pressure. The door swished open, and the air whoosed from her lungs. Sinclair stood silhouetted against the light of the hallway, the hard yellow gleam barely an echo of his aura, which swirled around him like a sunburst. But his eyes were shadowed, his face drawn tauter than she'd ever seen it. The lines around his mouth seemed like they were etched in stone, his cheekbones standing out in violent relief. It seemed as though he'd shed weight in the short distance from his room to hers. He hesitated in the doorway, then strode in quickly, as though forcing himself to do it before he could change his mind. She stepped back and waved at him to come right on in, then turned her back on him and walked over the stand beside Marcus. The two men exchanged a quick glance, then Marcus began to move towards the door. Justine clutched at him, her voice slipping high as she spoke. "Hey, don't go. We haven't had that cup of coffee..." Marcus met her eyes, glanced again towards Sinclair, then shook his head softly. Leaning down towards her, he whispered for her ears only. "-Talk- to him." He spun on his heels, gave a deft bow to Sinclair, and then was out the door and gone. They were alone. He came up behind her when she refused to turn and look at him. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the presence of his hands a mere inch from her shoulders. Oh, how she wanted to lean back into his embrace, to turn and bury herself against his chest. But she couldn't. Not now, maybe not ever again. "Justine," his voice was a low hoarse growl in her ear, it made the hair stand up on the back on her neck. "Please, there are some things we need to talk about." She drew in a deep, ragged gulp of air, then forced herself to turn around. "I'd say so, yes. And how about the full truth this time, 'Entil-Zha?'" He nodded, then met her gaze straight on. "Sometimes the truth isn't easy to hear - or understand," he warned softly, seriously. "Perhaps, but I think I can handle it." He took the rebuke well, his mobile mouth twisting in a dry smile. "First, what you think you saw today... It wasn't that. Delenn and I... what we are to each other isn't what you are and I are." That obviously hadn't come out the way he wanted it to; he frowned deeply. She broke in before he could try again. "Yeah, let me guess. You love her and I'm just a casual fuck, is that it?" He jerked, taking an involuntary step backwards as though she'd hit him. "No!" The denial came out hard, urgent. He spread his hands wide, a touch of astonishment crossing his face. "Why do you think Delenn and I are lovers?" That slowed her down a bit, not the question itself so much as his obvious confusion. She'd had experience with men who lied about loving other women, the lies came hard and thick, punctuated with promises. This man had never made any promises, and his reaction to accusations was confusion not pretense. Could she have misread the situation? But no... Pain jolted back through her as the images flooded back through her mind, the constant touches between them, the way Delenn had been clinging to him, his immediate leap to the Minbari woman's defense, and hers for him. No, there was something between them, something excruciatingly intense, fiercely exclusive. No, he just thought she stupid. Goodness knows, she'd hardly given him a reason to think otherwise. "I'm not a fool, even if I look like one," she shouted at him, eyes blazing with self-defensive anger. "It doesn't take much to see what's between you two. The way you look at each other, touch each other. God, I found her in your arms, her face flushed from love-making, and you try to deny it!?" He just stared at her for a moment in pure amazement, then something hardened in his expression. His eyes darkened, and she felt the first flash of fear she'd ever felt in his presence. A man who rarely showed anger, when he did it was like a thunderstorm, a dark cloud blocking out the light, a tangible electricity in the air. Held under steely control, perhaps, but raging at the limits, ready to burst into fire and flood. "Damn it, Justine, Delenn and I are -not- lovers. We've never been, we never will be. We weren't making love, we were crying. Her face was flushed because she'd been sobbing her heart out. I was holding her because she needed a shoulder to lean on, because -I- needed a friend to hold on to." His voice rose piercingly, then shattered and broke. He turned his back on her, his fists clenched, his shoulders heaving with the effort to breath. That image focused in front of Justine's eyes again, and this time she saw the swollen eyes instead of the lips, the reddening of those emerald eyes, the heaving of the chest - all an attempt to hold control. Not from lovemaking, but from pain and sorrow. Dear God, she really had been a fool. To -listen- to Morden of all people - she -knew- better. But she'd wanted so much, and she'd been so afraid. So certain that she'd lose again, as she'd lost before. That she could never measure up to such an exotic beauty, such a powerful woman. That he could never truly want -her-. "I'm sorry," Justine whispered under breath, tears she thought she'd cried out, again prickling at her eyes. "I'm -sorry-," she said again, this time loud enough for him to hear. "I...you're so close to her, and she's so beautiful. I was so sure that you'd want her not me; how could anyone want me and not her? I was so sure it was going to happen all over again..." Again he moved so quickly that she was in his grasp before she even knew he had turned around. His fingers dug into her shoulders, his eyes were like living fire. "God, Justine, do you really think so little of me? That what we had last night meant so little to me that I'd go running to another woman? I -care- for you..." He broke off there, releasing her as suddenly as he'd grabbed her. His gaze skittered from her, around the room, then finally, almost reluctantly, focused back on her. "Justine...I do owe you an apology. -Not- for anything you thought happened with Delenn, because it never was that way, but for something else. I can't offer much more than last night, but it's not for the reasons you thought it was. I -did- use you, but not in the way you think. Dear God, Justine, I... there are things you don't know about me." "Then tell me!" she demanded harshly, her entire body trembling. She reached out towards him, then drew her hand back before she could touch him, feeling like her fingertips had been burned by getting so close to him. He nodded slowly, then stood back and turned towards the couch. "Mind if we sit down, this...may take some time." "Sure," she said with a casualness she didn't feel. It didn't more than one look into that fierce countenance to know that whatever he had to tell her, it was serious - and more complicated than she'd first suspected. For the first time since she'd walked into his quarters earlier, the pain had receded, only to be replaced with an equally unpleasant sense of anticipation. His eyes were like burning embers, his manner restrained almost to the breaking point. When they were seated next to each other on the couch, a careful few inches separating them, he clasped his hands together in his lap, and stared off over her shoulder. He took a moment before beginning to speak, and her heart began to race, blood rushing through her veins as he turned his intense gaze onto her face. "Justine, I..." he swallowed hard, then the words came out in a torrent. "There's so much happening right now. God, I never wanted to hurt you! I just needed someone badly, and when I met you yesterday... You're so beautiful, and innocent, and human...by holding onto you, I thought I could hold onto... I can't promise you a future, I can't promise anyone a future. We're leaving tomorrow on an important mission and I... I won't be coming back." He ran out of breath there, and he stopped, his chest heaving. Her mind was racing even faster than he'd been speaking, her stomach was doing aerial dives into her pelvis, rising and falling in nauseating succession. That last phrase echoed in her mind, over and over again "I won't be coming back...I won't be coming back...I won't be..." "What the hell do you mean, you won't be coming back?" She tried not to scream, but the hysteria swelled in her throat, forcing its way upwards and outwards. He sighed, running a hand through his thick graying dark hair. "I'm going...away. Far, far away..." "Like how far?" she demanded. "Like a thousand years into the past," he finally blurted out. "A thousand what?" This time she was yelling. He winced, but held his ground. Her jaw felt like it had dropped off a cliff, and her eyes were round and huge, the pupils swallowed into a purple sea. "A thousand years," he repeated, and she found herself wondering how he remained so at ease. He appeared so -calm-. "I'm going to take Babylon Four back to the last Shadow war. They've lost their most important base of operations, and if we don't deliver Babylon Four, they'll lose the war. If they lose the war, then everything that's happened since won't happen. Civilization, life, as we know it, may cease to exist. Or at best, the Shadows will be a million times stronger now than they are, and we won't stand a chance against them in this time. They'll destroy Babylon 5, probably within a few days of now." "Wait a minute!" She was shaking her head, trying desperately to find some kind of frame of reference. She knew Babylon Four had disappeared, but still..."You're telling me that -you- are taking Babylon Four back into the past? But it already went, years ago." He nodded. "Yes, and that's where we're going. We've got to go back six years, stop the Shadows from destroying B4, and then I have to take it back a thousand years." "You? Why you?" This was unreal. He paused, a harsh gleam lighting up his amber eyes. "Because I've already done it." She stared at him with blank confusion. He rubbed at the back of his neck, then tried to explain. "About three days ago, I received a letter. Well, it's more complicated than that. What do you know of the Minbari religion and their ancient leader, Valen?" Startled by the sudden question, she had to stop and gather her thoughts. She shrugged. "Not a lot. Just that they tend to be very religious and that they swear by Valen the way we'd swear by Jesus or Mohammed or someone like that. I've never quite been sure if he was just an important leader or if he's a God." "He's -not- a God!" Sinclair's retort came too quickly, it shocked her with its intensity. She looked at him with surprise, and he stunned her again, this time by chuckling. The sound had little real mirth in it, though there was some dry amusement. He shrugged his shoulders at her. "Valen left a series of prophecies, which the Minbari have been following for the last 900 years or so. He also left some instructions, and some sealed caskets, set to be opened on specific dates. Like time capsules. One such was opened three days ago, and..." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a long brown envelope. "This is what was inside." He held it up for her to see the words written on the side in block Earth Standard. 'Jeffrey David Sinclair' Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her skull. He smiled at her expression, adding softly. "It sat sealed in a Minbari temple for over 900 years, Justine." "But how...how would Valen know your name?" "Because he's me." Sinclair spoke calmly, dropping the bombshell as though it was casual conversation. "He's what?" "I'm Valen," he said firmly, then he frowned. "Or I will be. Or I was... Oh, the Hell with it." He swore softly, abruptly betraying a groundswell of emotion held just below his surface. Iron control on the outside, passion burning underneath - she suddenly caught what she -knew- was a clear glimpse into his soul. So much power, so much light, for a moment she could almost believe... "That's insane!!" she shouted, the denial surging up within her, washing through her so violently that her entire body shook. "How can -you- be Valen? Valen's Minbari!" "I know." That simple reply was said with such quiet acceptance that it shut her down. It left her speechless. She stared at him. He closed his eyes, a silent gesture of pain, then opened them again. This time his gaze was steady, almost peaceful. "That's what Delenn and I were doing today, Justine. She was showing me how to use the Chrysalis machine. The device that - changed- her." "Bbbbut, she became human," Justine stammered. He nodded. "And I'll become Minbari." He held his hands up together, palms facing each other. "It's in balance. Her change was necessitated by mine, to even the scales between our two races. I become Minbari, so a Minbari must become human. Delenn chose to make the sacrifice so that I could do what I must." "Dear God," she whispered. It all made a horrifying, skewed kind of sense, and yet... It was crazy. "This is crazy! You're crazy! You can't mean to do this?" She never felt herself move, it was so instinctual, her hands came up as she started to shout, "No, no, no..." over and over again. She beat at his chest with her fists. He seized hold of her wrists, restraining her and bringing her closer to him in one agile motion. "Justine...Stop it!" She broke into tears, sobbing openly now, her entire body going limp, and he released her arms to draw her into his embrace. Her hands fell between them, against his chest, and she dug her fingers into his cloak, clutching at it, at him. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair. "I wish...If I could change things I would. But I can't..." Shoving hard against his chest, she bolted up out of his arms, up to her feet to stand looking down at him. Her hands clenched again, and she glared stunned fury at him. "Whatthehell do you mean? Why are you doing this? Why do you think -you- have to do this? This is CRAZY!!" She knew she was repeating herself, but that kept racing through her mind "You can't do this!" He sighed, rising up to tower over her, forcing her to look up to meet his somber eyes. "I -have- to, Justine. If I don't it will cost millions, even billions of lives. The Shadows will destroy this station next, but that would only be the beginning. We'd have no chance against them. Even if they managed to win a stalemate in the last war without me, the Shadows would still come out of it so much more powerful than they are now." He turned away from her to stare off into space, not seeing past the air itself, and yet he was seeing far past her, past this room, this time, this present. Even his voice seemed to drift back to her from a distance. "God Justine, do you think I haven't gone over this a hundred times in my head, searching for an alternative. A way out. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life in an alien body, on an alien world, a thousand years before I was born?" He laughed harshly, turning back to her, his eyes glittering like polished hematite. "It's not exactly how I planned to spend my old age." "But why -you-?" she demanded again. That actually won a smile, though it was twisted to one side, and never came close to touching his eyes. "Because it -was- me. Because I went back, because it's history, already done. All I can do is make sure that it happens again." "You can't know that?" she protested, but her eyes were already flickering to the letter laying on the table beside them. She reached out for it, but he was quicker. Sweeping it up, he replaced it within the folds of his cloak. "I do know it, Justine. Even without the letter, there are records enough. It is there to be seen, if one has the eye to look." "Let me see the letter!" she insisted, stubbornly. He shook his head. "No, it's for me alone." "You son-of-a-bitch!!" she shouted, slapping him hard across the cheek. He took it with little reaction, stepping back and pressing his hand to the reddened spot on his face, but otherwise remaining silent. "You knew this all along...-Delenn- knew this, and still you... You made me think that maybe we had..." She couldn't even put it into words, it hurt too much. "You trusted her with the truth, but you couldn't tell me?" "I..." he stumbled over that one. "It's not something you say casually, Justine. And I was afraid that if I said too much, I might somehow change things. Change the future, change the past..." "So you just used me? An easy lay before you go running off to save the universe?" She saw her words bite home, and as soon as she'd said them, she wished she could have taken them back. His face broke, swimming in a look of utter anguish so intense it took her breath away. Made her entire world stand still. "I just...I wanted...Don't you know that I could have loved you?" His eyes overflowing with tears, he turned away, brushing past her towards the door. "Jeff..." she tried to call out to him, but his name died in her throat, and he was too quick. In a heartbeat, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a thud that seemed abruptly final. He was gone. And she was alone with her tears and her regret. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:12 1996 Date: Mon, 22 Jul 1996 16:27:56 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chpt. 11 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Eleven He could see the question in Marcus' eye when he left Justine's quarters, but Jeffrey Sinclair couldn't bear to answer it. He'd barely been able to explain this once, to try again would be more than he could handle. His lungs ached with the effort of breathing. Where had that calm sense of purpose, that simple understanding, with which he had come to Babylon 5 gone? He'd been at peace with the path before him, he'd felt it calling to him so strongly that nothing else had mattered. Not anymore. Now he felt torn apart, confused, uncertain, afraid. He knew what he had to do, and he'd do it. There was no other alternative. But why did it have to hurt so much? Trying not to let Lilann or Marcus see it, he wiped at the tears stinging his eyes and cheeks, then hurried off down the hall blindly. He needed space, time, to think. The observation deck? No, not now. He'd see more than enough of eternity all too soon. So, go to the gardens instead. Lose himself in the verdant maze. The two attentive, somber guards trailed him as he found his way without thought or hesitation. Despite an absence of almost two years, this was still -his- station, and he knew it inside and out. The maze was a familiar comforting environment, and he began to wander it aimlessly, letting his feet carry him where they would, his mind desperately seeking focus, some element of peace. Rounding yet another corner, he came up short, his senses jolting him back to his surroundings. Standing directly in his path was the ordinary figure of a man, the face smiling innocuously, pleasantly, through the air around him shivered with an unseen chill. "Morden," Sinclair named him softly, even as Marcus and Lilann rushed around him, putting their bodies between him and the dark- clothed stranger. "Ambassador Sinclair. It's good to finally see you. I was hoping I'd find you here." The response came silky smooth, calm, with barely a hint of arrogant ease. "Stand aside," Lilann growled, his entire body tensed. Marcus stood poised, relaxed at first glance, but someone who knew him well would see the tension in his stance, like a rattlesnake preparing to bite. "What do you want, Mr. Morden?" Sinclair asked cautiously, now totally focused on the moment. He put out a hand towards Lilann, urging him to hold just for a while. Sinclair wanted to know what Morden was up to, for he'd always wondered why he'd been left out when Morden had made his first rounds of the Ambassadors so long ago. Morden chuckled. "Ahhh, but that's my question, Ambassador. What do -you- want?" Sinclair returned the grin, his eyes remaining hard and focused. "Why do you want to know?" Morden shrugged, waited silently. Lilann spoke vehemently in Adronado, asking for permission to remove this -human- from Entil'Zha's presence. "Nai," Sinclair told Lilann, meeting Morden's gaze firmly, willing to wait. They stood in silent tableau for a while, then Morden relaxed for a moment, seeming to give in. He spread his hands wide. "I simply want to help," he said peaceably. "Help me how?" Sinclair challenged. Morden smiled again. "What do you want? Do you want to be with her? To live out your lives in quiet peace, together? Raise a family perhaps? It could be arranged. There are places you could go that would be protected. I could see that you and yours are not touched for the remainder of your lives. Do you want that, Ambassador?" Sinclair reared back, astonished. Shocked. Horrified, yet frighteningly tempted. Somehow the words came accompanied with more sensual imagery. A video flash of himself holding Justine in his arms, alone on a garden world, like a primeval Adam and Eve. A snapshot of Justine, cradling their child in her arms... If only... "No!" Sinclair stepped back and forced himself to turn away. "Nai!" He turned on his heels and strode in the opposite direction, iron resolve forcing him forward, and pride, alone, keeping him from running. He had to get away from that monster with a human face, that promise of everything he desired in trade for everything he had. Lilann and Marcus came running after him, both throwing back fierce glares at Morden who remained standing where he was, still grinning. His voice echoed in the air at their back. "You know where to find me Ambassador. There's still time to choose." to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:16 1996 Date: Tue, 23 Jul 1996 16:03:17 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chpt. 12 (of 15) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. Spoilers for "War Without End." Chapter Twelve Justine didn't know how she ended up here, and yet, when she finally realized where she was, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Delenn was at the center of this. She always had been. The connection between the Minbari Ambassador and Jeffrey Sinclair was a tangible thing. A living cord, a shimmering strand of light, it had always been there. Justine had seen it, even when she hadn't understood what it was. And now she wanted to break it in half, her own anger swelling hard within her. She'd been used. By everyone. A pawn, placed on a chessboard and moved by forces beyond her comprehension. But no more, she swore, the words forming in her mouth. "No more," she whispered, though no one could hear. The doorchime rang and she waited for Delenn to answer. The reply came swiftly, the door sliding open almost as though it had been waiting for her. Perhaps Delenn -had- been waiting for her; it would make as much sense as it had for her to have come here in the first place. "Hello, Justine," Delenn said in her elegant, accented voice, bowing her dark-haired head. Justine nodded stiffly, still not able to trust her own voice. Delenn turned to her aide, who was watching them with a closed expression on his fully Minbari face, and spoke briefly in the guttural Minbari language. The aide nodded, inclined his head to Justine, then turned and left them alone. As the door closed behind him, Justine stole a moment to study the room, her eyes quickly becoming trapped by the disorganized pile of crystals laying on the center table. She lifted out a hand towards it, then pulled back. The desire to sweep out her arm and send it all flying, to jump and leap among the fallen fragments, hearing them crack beneath her furious feet, was so strong, Justine was surprised the brightly colored fragments didn't shatter from the sheer force of her will. "Please..." She jerked around, yanking her arm free of Delenn's hesitant touch. The Minbari's face was shadowed and drawn, but her eyes were cool and clear. Justine knew her own were red and puffy, pale and sore. She had cried for what seemed like years - a thousand years - after Jeff had left, trying to figure out a way to bring him back, to take back what she had said. When the tears had finally gone, she had left her own quarters...and ended up here. "Please, come and sit down," Delenn urged gently, indicating the couch behind her. Shrugging, Justine went over to plop herself down carelessly, defiantly. Delenn followed more carefully - much more gracefully - adjusting her robes as she settled onto the cushions. Justine remained stubbornly silent even though she had been the one to come here. Delenn didn't seem to mind, the purpose of her visit didn't need to be spoken. Delenn spoke the words anyway. "He told you." It was a simple statement of fact. Again, all Justine could do was nod. Her mouth trembled, the words weren't there. What was she supposed to say? Her anger seemed more than able to speak for her. "You know what he's planning to do and you're just going to let him do it." "He must," Delenn replied, almost too softly to be heard, her face not betraying any emotion. Justine wished she could copy that coolness. Tossing her long dark hair back with a shaky hand, she leaned forward toward the other woman. "How can you say that? How can you accept that? This is insane!! How can you expect me, anyone to accept this?" "It is the truth." Justine was getting really frustrated right now. She felt like she was hitting her head against a brick wall. That nothing she said or did mattered; that no one was listening to her. She hurt so deeply inside that she wanted to share the pain, to make another feel their heart twisting into a knot, the steel vise squeezing in on their lungs. She wanted to strike back. "To hell with your so-called truth. This is a man's life we're talking about here. You're asking him to do something...something incomprehensible. Dammit, Delenn, he's not a toy or a tool, he's a human being! You're playing with people's lives! Do you even have a heart? Can you feel anything at all? Put yourself in his place, dammit." "I have put myself in -his- place, Justine. I do have a heart. I do feel. Do you think this is any easier for me than it is for you? Do you think I don't know what is at risk here?" Delenn's calm broke suddenly, her eyes flashing verdant sparks. She stopped, drew in a deep breath, then started again. Her hands clenched at each other, wriggling in her lap as she spoke. "Can't you see that this has to be? That there is no other choice? I do not want to lose Jeffrey. But the price of holding him back is too high. Countless numbers of people would suffer and die. This is his calling, his destiny. It cannot be stopped. I thought you would see that." Delenn leaned towards Justine, as if by closing the space between them she could communicate what her words were not. "When I saw your drawings, I was sure you understood. Your artistry was so true, it spoke so clearly. You -saw- the reality of it, for how could you draw such portraits of him and not know what he is? The light that shines around him, through him - it was there in your work, as was the darkness that he is fighting against." Justine threw her hands up between them, as though trying to shield herself from Delenn's urgent persuasion, but she couldn't hold it off. The images were too vivid. She -did- know, she had seen what Sinclair was. The light that shimmered around him was always there, in her mind, reflected in her heart, surrounding him in comforting flood of brilliance. But it didn't seem so comforting any more. Instead it seemed harsh in her memory, burning too brightly, a flame that seared everything in its path. Delenn caught the change in her expression and she pushed onward. "You can see it. I can tell that you can. Would you seek to deny it? To deny him his destiny? To keep him from being who he is? He is the soul of the light, the very center of it. It flows through him, of him, from him, it is indistinguishable from his very being. He was born for this, to lead against the darkness. He belongs to the light, to the universe, to the past and to the future." Justine wanted to cry out 'to me!' but Delenn was continuing. "To hold him back would be a gift to the darkness, the cost would be paid in blood. And what would it do to him? Could he live knowing that he could have acted to save innumerable lives and failed to do so?" "But it's not fair!!" Justine fell back on that old, everpresent cry, feeling it fall flat against her ears, yet pouring all her anguish, desire and desperation into it. "No, it is not fair." Delenn's response was heavy with sorrow and understanding. Justine finally -looked- at the other woman, not with jealousy or fear or anger, but simply, quietly, openly, - looked-. And saw. Delenn's aura was a soft reflection of Sinclair's, the platinum white of it shimmering around her like fresh snow falling through sunlight. Her emerald eyes were deep with anguish and a sorrow as heavy as Justine's own, yet were uplifted by acceptance and understanding. The expression on her face was almost religious, spiritual, transformed by an inner glow, a luminescence that shone from the depths of her soul. The connection was so clear, so pure. Jeff and Delenn were parts of the same whole. Not as most people would think it but this Army of Light...really was. The realization of her selfishness struck at her, leaving her heart and soul in pieces before her. The air whooshed out of Justine's lungs, doubling her over as though someone had punched her in the stomach. She gasped aloud, clutching at her belly. "Oh noooo," she cried, hardly noticing it when Delenn gathered her up into a firm embrace. The young woman trembled with the force of the emotional storm, past the point of crying, her eyes suddenly bled dry. "Ohhh, nooo, Jeff..." She shifted, suddenly reaching out to cling to Delenn, and the other woman let her, tightening her strong arms around Justine's body and cradling her tenderly. Justine collapsed limply, letting herself be rocked, letting the flood of comprehension rise through her, over her, and past her. Praying again and again that it couldn't be true...knowing that it was. And always had been. To be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:18 1996 Date: Wed, 24 Jul 1996 17:50:59 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chpt13 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Thirteen Now he knew the lure of Morden and his kind. Offer someone what they most wanted in the world...couch the price in terms that sounded fair, that seemed innocuous, simple. The sad, painful part of it was that he had wanted to say yes. For an awful, agonizing second he had wanted to say yes. Anything to get Justine's last words out of his head, the image of her hating him...she had to be hating him...he had used her. He had made a mess of things again. This time, he felt there was no way for him to clean it up. Sinclair wandered aimlessly for a while longer until he found himself back at his quarters. Marcus and Lilann had followed faithfully, silently, though he could feel the disapproval emanating from the Minbari Ranger. It didn't matter. It didn't hold a candle to the disapproval he felt for himself. His door slid open and he walked in. Delenn had gone, the pieces of his Chrysalis machine sitting in a quiet pile on the table. Sinclair would have smiled...if he had anything to smile about. The peace he'd known...it had been shattered when Justine came into his world...when... Oh no. It was nothing so simple, was it? The Shadows...but if they knew that, knew enough to try and dissuade him from his path, then what else did they know? He sat solidly on the couch, a raw silence within him as he struggled to come to terms with this. Regardless, Justine was in his world. And the pain he'd caused her was a red hot dagger in his own heart. He -did- care. He might even already love her. It had been so sudden, so overwhelming, and he still wasn't sure if it was his own fears and needs creating the emotion or if it was real and true of its own accord. He wasn't sure the difference mattered. It felt the same. And Delenn had been wrong. Oh, not about his choices or the path he had to take, but about Justine. He barked a short, humorless laugh. Delenn was seldom wrong... but perhaps she had not been human long enough to understand women. Justine hadn't understood, hadn't wanted to understand. It was that last part that caused him the most pain. He stood up, wandered about the room without purpose. He had searched within himself for all the ways he'd learned on Minbar, all the methods for centering for finding your way...and always, somewhere along the trail to peace, her face would float before him, her voice sing in his memory...and he would be torn back to here, to now, to knowledge. Knowledge. Maybe that was the key. Sinclair knew this was his way, this was the destiny that lay before him. A part of his mind still cried at the idea of the goal being in sight. He'd spent his life searching for that sense of purpose, the way that he could make a difference. He knew that he would carry this through; to do otherwise was unthinkable. Perhaps no one could ever truly understand why it had to be Jeffrey Sinclair, least of all himself, but that wasn't the point. He pulled out the Letter again, stared at its stark black and white reality. This was truth. Simple, clear and undeniable. A Minbari saying suddenly popped into his head... "Understanding is not required...only obedience." And he was laughing. As he came back to earth, he thought about what that must have sounded like to Marcus and Lilann, then smiled. It didn't matter. And frowned. The saying was truth but it paled before the truth of what had happened between himself and Justine. Without realizing it, he was sitting on the couch again, staring sightlessly at the jumble of hues on the table. That -- that was what he needed to think about.. not his lost humanity. He reached out to pick up a piece at random. Purple. Violet. He saw Justine's eyes, abrim with tears as he tried to tell her he cared. He saw her eyes harden, flinging darts of pure torment at him. Saw, in the blur that his own eyes were giving him, her eyes last night, dark, deep violet, full of love and desire. He'd never see them that way again. His hand closed over the crystal tightly, his own fingernails slicing his palm but that pain wasn't nearly enough to overshadow the emotional whirlwind that threatened to overwhelm him. Marcus let Lennier into the room, slowly shaking his head in response to the unspoken question in the young Minbari's eyes. Lennier frowned, looking past both Rangers to the still figure on the couch, dark head bent over a handful of crystal shards. "Leave us," Lennier directed with a calm he didn't feel. Lilann bowed and obeyed instantly, Marcus paused long enough to give one more concerned glance in Sinclair's direction. Lennier touched his arm. "Let me try," he whispered. Marcus nodded and followed Lilann out the door, leaving Lennier alone with the silent man. Sinclair didn't seem to have noticed the change in his companions; he was apparently lost in a world of his own. Lennier swallowed hard, trying to dampen a suddenly dry throat. He'd come because Delenn had asked him to, obeying because she was Delenn and he was sworn to her. This could well be the most difficult task she had ever asked of him, for he must find the words to comfort this one man. This man who seemed frail now, too small a vessel for so much Light, too weak to shoulder such a heavy burden as would be asked of him soon...too soon. Yet, he was so much more than he seemed. And that was what made Lennier hesitant. Born and raised among the religious caste, he had learned to see Valen as something akin to a God. All of Lennier's life had revolved around his wisdom. The Minbari were taught obedience, to follow the orders of those above them, believing that they knew the right path. Being asked to give this man guidance...being asked to give -Valen- guidance... it was beyond comprehension, yet he would attempt it because she asked it. If he could think of him merely as the very human Earth Ambassador, perhaps he could get through this. Find the right words. Discover his own path through the confusion caused by being in the position to give advice to his people's greatest leader. Lennier looked up and realized with a jolt of surprise that Sinclair was looking straight at him. He bowed deeply, attempted to smile. "Ambassador Delenn sent me to see if you were all right, Ambassador Sinclair." Sinclair's eyes were haunted, wide and deep, etched with anguish. Yet, he returned the bow formally, gesturing for Lennier to sit. Lennier did so quickly, adjusting his robes as he sat, waiting for Sinclair to pick up the conversation. He did so abruptly. "Tell Delenn that I'm fine." His voice was emotionless, not cold, but empty. Lennier forced himself to meet those dark eyes, responding simply and perceptively. "You do not sound fine." To his surprise, Sinclair laughed. Dropping the crystal pieces onto the couch beside him, the Ambassador grinned openly. "I guess I'm not. But that doesn't matter, does it?" His face hardened. "I will do what is required of me. There is no other way." Lennier nodded. "I know. The question remains however. Will you be all right?" "Does it matter?" Sinclair retorted harshly. "Yes, it does. It matters a great deal." Lennier felt pleased and shocked by the vehemence in his own voice but knowing that it was right. It mattered deeply, not just to Delenn but to all of them. Lennier respected Jeffrey Sinclair for his goodness, for teaching the Minbari of the capacity for true honor his race possessed. In a moment of crystalline understanding, Lennier suddenly realized that what he'd been taught all his life was wrong...not entirely, but the actual truth was in fact a mirror image of what he'd always believed. Valen was a reflection of Sinclair, rather than Sinclair of Valen. "Of course it matters," he repeated. "Entil'Zha, we are sometimes asked to do things that difficult, painful. We do them because the cost of failing is worse than the sacrifice itself. When I came here, I left behind a peaceful and satisfying life. There have been many times I wish I could go back. Yet when the opportunity arose, I refused. How could I leave now? How could I not do whatever I can for the cause that we share? If the price is my peace of mind and ease of sleep, it is a small price to pay. If the price is higher, then I will pay that as well." Sinclair opened his mouth but Lennier held up a firm hand. "And what of Delenn? I've seen the pain she feel whenever one of our people look at her and see an outcast, a stranger, a monster. She could have had the honor of being our leader, yet she chose the necessary path, one that will bring her loneliness and pain. But one that she would not shirk even if she could. I -know- the path before you is terrifying. I do not know that I would have the courage to walk it as you must. But I know that you do. I know that you must. And that the universe will be a better place for it." Sinclair was silent now. Lennier wondered if he'd gone too far. But the man's face was thoughtful, almost grave. The intensity of his eyes had lessened, turned inward. He was, at least, considering. "Entil'Zha," Lennier began again. "Please know that you will not be alone in this. Delenn and I are here, Marcus and the Rangers will be with you as long as we can be. And others will await you at journey's end. You may feel alone, but you are not. And never will be." Sinclair looked at him, a sharp, cutting sweet expression of hope in his eyes, so piercing that it struck Lennier like the blade of a knife. He forced a smile and the human's face lightened just a bit, the slightest hint of humor returning. Sinclair's eyes glinted, then he suddenly lowered his face into his hands. His body shook and Lennier couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. When Sinclair lifted his head, tilting it back to stare at the ceiling, his cheeks were dry. Laughter, then. "I'm such a fool, Lennier," he said. "No, you are not." Lennier responded with certainty. Of that, the young Minbari was certain. But Sinclair only chuckled, shook his head, then looked back to meet Lennier's eyes. "Oh yes, Lennier. I knew I would do this, and yet I kept thinking that maybe...somehow...I could avoid it. But there never was an alternative." His voice shifted to a whisper. "There isn't an alternative?" "Not without a price." "A price I will not pay." Resolution settled in those amber eyes, hardening every line of that face. Sinclair clenched his hands together, knuckles whitening, the fingers digging into his palms. "There is no alternative, then." Sinclair nodded, drawing his hands apart slowly, as though he had to force them to separate. He pressed his palms down against his knees. Glancing around, he offered Lennier a wry, but sincere smile, though his humor was self-directed with a bittersweet edge. "Then I am a fool." He chuckled lightly. "I wanted to have my cake and eat it too." Lennier frowned, trying to make sense of that and almost missed a full, real smile from the human. "It's a human expression" Sinclair explained with gentle amusement. "A cake is a sweet food, something eaten on special occasions." Lennier brightened suddenly as understanding struck. "Ahhh, I see. You cannot have a cake after you have eaten it, so to want to have it and yet eat it at the same time...It is impossible. A contradiction." Sinclair's smile twisted then settled into something somber. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yes exactly. I wanted..." "You wanted what anyone would want. Sometimes the universe has different plans for us." Lennier spoke with characteristic Minbari fatalism and Sinclair didn't respond directly. He let the truth of that statement sit between them, then shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I hurt her, Lennier. Heaven help me, I hurt her terribly. I was being selfish, trying to hold onto something that cannot be. And when I tried to make it right, I hurt her all the more." His voice fell thick with self- condemnation. "When I came here, I thought I accepted this. I was at peace..." He frowned, then smiled sharply, sweetly, painfully, "Or perhaps I was deluding myself." Lennier's heart twisted and before he realized it, he had reached out to touch Sinclair. "Do not blame yourself so. What you are being asked to do is more than should be asked of anyone. It is asked of you because you can give it, because you will give it. How could you not feel fear and uncertainty? It is not a question of the absence of fear, it is a question of being afraid, yet doing what must be done in spite of that fear." Sinclair reached out to close his hand over Lennier's. "I know." His voice was quiet, gentle. I always knew. A part of me wants this, aches for it." His eyes shifted past Lennier to gaze into eternity itself. "I think I've spent my whole life searching for who I am and where I belong and now it's finally here." His hand convulsed on Lennier's almost painfully. "I can almost touch it..." The tension that had been building in Sinclair released abruptly, and he slumped back into the couch. "I just wish... I wish I hadn't hurt her. I wish I could see her again and not have her look at me with such anger. She hates me now, and I can't blame her. But if only I could have her forgiveness to take with me. If only she could forgive me.." "She will." Lennier told me with a certainty he did not feel but it seemed right that he should say it. Sinclair released his grip on Lennier's hand, shook his head. "I'm tired, Lennier, so tired." Lennier got quickly to his feet. "Yes, and I have taken up too much of your time. Rest, and I will send someone to you with food." "I'm not hungry," Sinclair rubbed wearily at his eyes. "You will need the nourishment. It is nearly time for you to go." The human looked up sharply. "We are ready, then?" Lennier nodded. "Soon. The WhiteStar will be fully prepared within a few hours and Draal is already widening the rift for you." Sinclair hardly blinked. Standing, he bowed to Lennier. "Thank you." "I have done little." But Lennier bowed in response. "If anything I have said has eased your mind, then I am gratified to be of service. Now you must rest. One of the Rangers will bring you food." He bowed again and left, leaving Sinclair still standing, silent, contemplative, in the center of the room. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:19 1996 Date: Thu, 25 Jul 1996 17:01:55 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chpt14 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Fourteen Justine took a deep breath. The Minbari guards at his door didn't seem to be inclined to stop her, so she pushed the doorchime before she could lose her nerve. Is that so wrong? She silenced the fretful voice, and waited for his permission to enter. His voice, warm and warming, bid her "Come." The door swished open and she stepped inside. The two of them were figures frozen in a snow globe for a brief instant as the door silently shut behind her. Then there was a crash as the object he'd been holding went tumbling to the floor. Justine glanced downward; it was a glass, not one of the crystals; looked back to his face. There was such amazement there, such wonder. She took a step forward. "Jeff...if you don't want me to be here, I'll go." Where had she gotten the courage to say that? This would be the last time she would ever see him, ever speak to him. Even though he'd always be in her heart...this was the end of always for them. "No, no. Oh no, Justine, don't go. I'm sorry. I... I never thought I'd see you again. I hurt you so much." She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He was worried about hurting her, and here she was, refusing to let him go into eternity without knowing she was so sorry for hurting him. But the sound never passed her lips and she took another trembling step, and another until she was standing before him, looking up into the gaze of a prophet...or a saint. And she loved him, loved the man inside the legend. And would lose him. He was worried about hurting her? She'd come here because she was so sure she had hurt him forever and... she couldn't have lived with herself if she hadn't apologized. Justine took a trembling step forward. "I shouldn't have said what I said...about you and Delenn...-to- Delenn. Morden had..." Jeff's voice suddenly hardened. "Morden?" Curiosity supplanted desire to apologize and that other desire for the moment. "What?" Steps no longer trembling, she went up to him, put her hand on his arm...and was rewarded with a smile that blinded her, that told her without question that she was welcome. He put his other hand on her shoulder and guided her to the couch. His voice, velvet rich and wonderfully sensuous even saying the most innocuous things, asked. "Tell me about it. When..." To stay here, to stay as long as possible with him before he went away, she would tell him anything. "After you left my place, on my way to work, I...he was just there when I turned around. I don't know how he does it but...anyway, he was asking the same question as always. Then..." She swallowed and looked down at her lap...found her hands clasping each other, saw one of his hands come over and fold itself over hers. His touch closed a circuit and she felt whole again for the first time since he'd left her that morning. She tilted her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "He made insinuations about you...and Delenn. And he offered me what I wanted most." His hand tightened on hers. The dark chocolate orbs of his eyes glittered with tightly reined anger. She knew, if it had been in his power, Morden would never bother anyone again. She went on, in a small voice..."I saw a picture of us, together, growing old together." To admit that that's what she'd wanted most, and still wanted, was difficult, so difficult but she owed it to him to be honest in these last hours before losing him. His hand gripped hers harder. She winced and he loosened it quickly, giving her a quick smile. "I'm sorry. It's just that I had my own little run-in with Mr. Morden...after I'd left you so badly." She gave a little gasp and wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, to love him. "He offered me what I wanted most as well." A silence. She wanted to ask him what it was, feared to ask him, needed to ask him. Something to take with her after he was gone. Some idea that he cared more than she thought. She was so caught up in the feeling of loss this brought that she almost missed his words, low and burning. "You...our child..." The surge of emotion his words incited threatened to overflow her body, her soul. It lifted her to the heights of the universe, while at the same time casting her heart to the depths of despair. Justine saw, clearly, how different it would have been had they met in another time, another place. She turned to look at him, squarely, her eyes meeting his gaze fully for the first time since she'd entered. She saw him swallow hard before continuing. "I almost said yes, Justine. In that single instant, I almost said yes. I'd hurt you so badly, I wanted you so badly...I..." She reached out to him, pulling her hand from his, traced the side of his cheek. The touch was electrifying. He was baring his soul to her, a part of Jeffrey Sinclair, of Entil'Zha that she had never seen. "Oh god, Jeff. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you so much. I was so angry." The words came tumbling out of her...it wasn't what she'd meant to say; she'd meant to be calm and mature, to handle this as though her heart weren't breaking as though she wouldn't live the rest of her life as half a person. But his pain was so real, so palpable. And it was pain on behalf of her, not himself...which only drove home how very much it was true. He was not of himself, not of her or of this time...but of every time. "I love you, you know. It all sounded so crazy, so stupid, for you, for anyone to give up everything they know for a cause so far beyond my understanding." His hand grasped her other hand again, tighter. "Damn..." her voice was tiny. "I'm about to lose it again, you know. Delenn...I had no tears then.." "You spoke with Delenn?" She nodded mutely. "I don't know why, just found myself at her quarters. She -- she would have been right to refuse to see me, after what I said, after what I did. Because of who I am. But she tried to explain it to me...and suddenly, I knew she was right." Justine didn't explain how she knew, nor that she still didn't really comprehend the enormity of what was to happen to him, to them. She stopped talking at the look in his eyes. She knew that look, hooded and defiant. Delenn had gotten through to her when he could not. "Oh, Jeff..." And she leaned forward and kissed him softly, gently. When she pulled back, the look of amazement was back on his face. "Forgive me." With a smooth movement he pulled her closer to him. His hands still holding hers, he returned her kiss, silently, deeply. Her lips didn't want to leave his, she didn't want to leave him...but her wants and desires paled before the needs of destiny. Still, when he released her and she saw him, brown eyes hooded again, her heart skipped a beat and the burn began in her belly that spread defiantly to her soul. "Forgive you? What you did, said, ...there's nothing for -me- to forgive -you- for." Sinclair pulled her back to him, this time wrapping his arms around her in sheer wonder. She clung to him. Justine was so lost in it that she barely heard him say something softly in Minbari before his hands were moving up and down her back and his lips were in her hair. He was speaking again, this time in Standard, "I don't know if what we have is love, Justine, I don't know. But it doesn't matter...for that is what it feels like and I am going to miss you so." She gave a little cry and burrowed closer into his robes. She had come here only to apologize and he was giving her so much more, showing her again how right it was that he be the one to take on this burden. Even if that rightness still didn't mean a thing to the ice in her heart. Then, she felt him push her back slightly, release his hold, and the absence was like the absence of light in a suddenly darkened room. A loss so total, so devastating. But she saw him begin to remove his robes...as if from a distance. Until he was clothed in what he'd worn in her rooms the previous night, cotton shirt and pants. "Jeff?" "Nothing can keep me from this anymore. I will do this." She just nodded dumbly. His words made it clear that he was speaking for himself, to himself. But she didn't know if he meant his destiny or something else. "I must. Justine..." Her name was a growl of intensity, of passion. She moaned at the hearing of it. He reached for her again. She moved calmly into his arms, feeling the heat of his imminent departure fuel the fire in her groin. This was a fire she ought not to be feeling, came the little obstinate voice in the back of her head, but at this moment, she didn't care. When he touched her, it was magic, a magic to last an eternity. Justine woke up in a tangle of confusion. What -- she realized where she was and why and sat up. She was alone...No, he hadn't already.... Jeff came around the corner from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. "How long..." His voice was wistful. "Not long now. And no, you haven't been asleep long." He handed her the cup and stood watching her. He hadn't dressed...so it really hadn't been that long. "Justine...thank you." She looked at him wide-eyed, violet pupils conquering the rest of her eyes. Thank her? "Whyever for? If it hadn't been for me, you would have had no problem with this destiny thing." She sighed. "I'm sorry, I still don't really understand." Justine placed the cup on the table before her and stood up when there was no response. What response could he give that she hadn't already heard anyway? "I should shower and dress." He nodded and escorted her into the fresher. He was so handsome...so beautiful standing there in the Minbari robes. The golden glow was brighter than ever. He'd come to terms with it, he was at peace. Justine wondered if she'd ever be at peace again. They were alone in his quarters, his guardians had come and gone, giving word that it was almost time for him to go. Marcus had given her one last look of sad understanding as he left. She had flashed him a sick smile before turning back to Sinclair. The lines of his face, the scar...she stepped forward, unconsciously reached up to trace it, to stare into the depths of his eyes, memorizing his face. His hand came up, pressed her palm to his cheek. It surprised her and she took a half step back but stopped when he turned his head, pressed his lips into her palm. And when he turned back to look at her again, her heart nearly stopped at the emotion on his face. He was at peace...but he still worried about her? "Jeff...Entil'Zha.." She smiled. "I..." Sinclair wanted to pull her in close, to lose himself in her scent. It surprised him a bit; he'd thought he'd accepted what was to come, thought the urges tamped down beneath iron resolve. But her presence here, her mere presence tore at his soul. Even after letting himself touch her again...he wanted her still. The thought of leaving her, even though he knew he would, was an ache that, once begun, would never end. He clasped her hand, lowered it slowly, reached out with his other hand to take hers. Justine gasped. She hadn't wanted to touch him again, that would only make this harder, but she hadn't been able to stop herself...and it seemed he couldn't either. Why did it have to be him? "Why?" But before he could answer, she pressed her fingers into his lips, silencing him. It was a question that had no good answer. That both of them had asked too many times before. He kissed her fingers, then pulled back. Looked at her as though committing her face to memory; perhaps he was. "Justine... I wish there was more time. I wish there was a way for us." This was no time to keep things in; he would never see her again, save in memory, and there were so many things to say and so very little time to say them. "There is no time. No way." His voice seemed to catch on that but he went on. "Doing this, I lose you. If I don't do this, we lose everything." She squeezed his hands tightly. Delenn had explained it to her in terms of spirituality. Her words hadn't made an impact...until now. Until she was hearing it in his words, listening to the warmth of his voice, just catching the break in that velvet sensuousness that said he didn't accept this as easily as he thought he did. Justine felt his hold on her hands tighten in response. "Maybe.." she was -not- going to cry in front of him, "maybe that's what this was all about. My loving you, our loving. Morden. If I could make you stay, then it would all be over for all of us now." She swallowed hard around the tears that were coming. No. Dammit. But they began to spill over, down her cheeks in silent trails of despair. "You have to go. I know you do. I can't like it, Jeff, I can't. Ask me anything else, but not that." Sinclair released one of her hands, brushed her cheek with his, brought his fingers up to taste the salt of her anguish. It tugged at his heart to see her thus...he wanted her to cry in happiness, writhing beneath him. Stuck that image back deep into the depths of his mind. "I won't. I can't." He smiled softly...and Justine didn't try to stop the swell of love for him and hatred for those who were tearing them apart. "I can't. If I can't ask it of myself, how could I ask it of you?" Her violet eyes, gone almost purple now, glistened up at him. He wanted to crush her against him, to kiss her hard once more. But didn't. This was hard enough for both of them. Somehow he knew that would make it even more difficult. Oh, but they'd had such a short time. Such a damned short time. Justine wanted him...once more. But knew she couldn't. That every taste of him would only leave her wanting more...leave her wanting. She would have never gotten enough of him, would never tire of him. In another world, another time, perhaps they would have had the time to find out everything about each other. Now. "Jeff, just promise me one thing." His voice grew somber, but his eyes twinkled. "If I can." She smiled through tears that were flowing freely now. "Don't forget me, please. Try not to forget me." His heart caught in his throat. Forget her? "I'll always have you with me." She nodded mutely, brought the hand she still clasped to her lips, kissed it quickly. Then she was gone. to be continued... -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- From jennyann@ix.netcom.com Sun Aug 4 01:28:26 1996 Date: Thu, 25 Jul 1996 17:04:04 -0700 From: Jennifer Lyon To: b5-creative@lists.best.com Subject: "The Girl Who Saw Shadows" Chapter 15 (of 15) The Girl Who Saw Shadows by Sue Phillips (s.phillips25@genie.com) and Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) Babylon 5 characters copyright Babylonian Productions, Inc. All others belong to the authors of this work. No copyright infringement is intended...nor do we intend to make any money off of this. This is a PG-13 version of a slightly longer NC-17 story, which is available by request from the authors. SPOILERS for "War Without End." Chapter Fifteen They were all gone, Delenn, Sheridan, Marcus; all but Zathras. The little alien was a strange comfort. Sinclair was never sure how serious he was, but it was good to not be totally alone. But now, Zathras had wandered off to check on some of the equipment left behind in the central core, and he was by himself on the oddly familiar command deck of Babylon 4. The sloping glass windows showed a sunburst of color, the time rift, glittering around the station like an unearthly halo. And in the distance, already almost out of sight, the WhiteStar, sleek and swift, disappearing into the mists of the future. There was no turning back now - not that there ever had been. He'd stopped trying to fool himself about that. Delenn's eyes had been sad, yet accepting, when they had given their silent goodbyes, and Sheridan's handshake had been strong and reassuring. It was good to know he'd be leaving the people he loved in safe hands. That helped. He hoped that the glimmer he'd seen between Delenn and Sheridan was true, she deserved the chance at happiness, however fleeting it might be. But for himself - the path was clear. No more doubts, no more hesitation. He knew what he had to do. He turned to glance down at the innocuous pair of yellow boxes by his feet, then fell to his knees beside them. This time the crystals settled into place easily, simply; his hands moved with certainty, surety, without a tremor. The machine came together, a strange artwork of pastel shapes, surprisingly delicate, waiting for his hand to place the triangular crown upon it. The triluminary sang when he touched it, music metallic, high- pitched clear tones. It glowed, showering his hands, his face, with light. He lifted up the small pyramid and set it firmly on top of the crystals, watching serenely as the brilliant white gleam rose and spread, whispering in his mind, calling, urging, drawing upon him. Images, sounds, rose and fell before his mind, his own voice speaking above the rest. "My whole life has been leading to this." Flash. Delenn. "We were right about you." Flash. Neroon. "You talk like a Minbari, Commander." Flash. The Soul-Hunter. "They're using you...they're using you." Perhaps. Or perhaps he had been using them. It didn't matter. This was what he had spent his whole life searching for, a reason, a purpose for his existence. This mattered. It had to be. It was right. Without conscious volition, moving almost of their own accord, his hands began to remove his robes, dropping the heavy Minbari cloak to the floor, his eyes fixated on the spidery, shimmering strands of the cocoon as it began to form. He was ready - and yet - one last image centered before the eyes of his mind. Justine. Bright violet eyes, lips parted, breathing his name in a sigh of ecstasy. "Justine," he whispered, lifting up one hand as though he could reach across the vacuum of space and the flow of time to touch her one last time. His hand fell short. He sighed, then let the last remnant of his clothing fall to the deck. The cocoon was calling to him, more urgently now, singing to his soul, and he stepped into it willingly. But not without one last whisper thrown out towards the sea of space gleaming in the distance. "Goodbye..." And then he was enclosed within the silken web. Surrendered at last to destiny. Justine had refused to see anyone after she left him. She was still trying to come to terms with his destiny, she knew that, if she saw anyone now, she would cry. Oh god, to have this taken away from her so cruelly...for something that may or may not do any good. She felt the tears coming again and was glad she was alone, locked in her quarters. There was a Ranger outside, keeping guard but she didn't want to see anyone. She'd thought she was cried out, that there were no more tears for a life that could never have been. Wandering about her quarters, she ran her hand along the table, along the couch where he'd sat, buried her face in his side of the bed (just once but it would always be *his*). All the while holding the sapphire brooch he had given her before he'd left. Knowing it hurt him as much as it did her didn't help. She threw herself on the bed, searched for any little left-over scent of him...and burst into sobs. Racking, gut wrenching sobs. Delenn's explanations were Right...as what he was doing was Right....but it didn't make it hurt any less. She woke, not remembering falling asleep. She was still dressed, sprawled across the bed, clutching his pillow against her breast. Looked at the chronometer. He was gone by now...gone totally well and truly beyond her grasp. She got up shakily, placed the brooch reverently on the dresser, went to throw cold water on her face, to stare into her own eyes for non-existent help. She slept for a while, perhaps for hours, fitfully, she was too exhausted to notice, to upset to find easy slumber. She awoke, fully, to the chime of the door buzzer. She took a deep breath, hoped her voice wasn't shaky. "Come." It was Marcus. It must have been longer than she thought. The young Ranger took one look at her face and held his arms out. Justine threw herself into them, hugging him, as the door closed and be damned to what the Minbari outside thought. "He was right, Marcus. Living *is* harder than dying." They stood there for a long time before Marcus stepped back slowly. "It's time." Time to leave for Minbar, time to begin fulfilling her promise. In Valen's name. The End -- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- jennyann@ix.netcom.com Jenni10647@AOL.com http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/jgedrick.htm http://members.aol.com/Jenni10647/fanfic.htm http://members.aol.com/JALyon/b5fic.htm "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder "The X-Files" --------------------------------------------------------------------------