From UVAlpha@aol.com Sun Aug  4 01:09:47 1996
Date: Thu, 4 Jul 1996 00:59:57 -0400
From: UVAlpha@aol.com
Reply-To: b5-creative@lists.best.com
To: b5-creative@lists.best.com
Subject: Loss (Post-WWE2 story in the 'Patterns' universe)

Okay, folks -- this story has *big* spoilers for WWE2 -- if you haven't seen
the episode, DON'T READ THIS STORY!  You have been warned!!!

BTW, I hope the formatting is okay -- they "upgraded" AOL and I've got *no*
idea how this is going to come through...
-- Isoline

LOSS
a post-WWE2 story in the 'Patterns' universe
by Isoline M. Sanderson

   "John," Delenn said uncomfortably as she stopped at the main briefing
table of the war room. For a moment, Sheridan continued reading the report he
held, then he looked up and frowned when he saw the distress in her eyes.
   "Delenn?"  It seemed that everyone had been very subdued since the
incident with Babylon 4, he reflected, but he thought she'd had a fairly good
handle on things.  *Maybe I read her wrong and she was just squashing it like
Susan is -- except Susan's better at it . . .* he thought, standing.
   "There is -- a problem," Delenn explained very quietly, looking around
them to be sure no one was close enough to overhear.  "I wanted to be able to
explain to you before you read it in a report . . ."
   "What's wrong?  Has there been another attack?"
   "No -- no, nothing like that," she said quietly.  "John, I did not want to
have to explain this -- I had hoped the matter would correct itself before
now."  She looked around again, then sighed gently and said, "You are aware
that the Minbari ships protecting Babylon 5 belong only to the religious and
worker castes."
   "Well, yes, you and Lennier said that.  Why?"
   "When . . . when I went to the Grey Council to ask for assistance, I knew
there were some who would not act.  The warriors are -- still angry over the
last war.  When we told them not to act against the Shadows, they chose to
interpret that as a final, rather than temporary, instruction."
   "You mean out of spite they decided they wouldn't even help when you asked
them to?  Of all the--"
   "John, please," Delenn urged when his volume increased.  One or two of the
technicians turned to look at them, but quickly looked away again.
   "I can't believe they'd do that -- aren't they always out looking for a
fight to pick?" Sheridan asked more quietly.
   "They seem to think they can avoid the entire war, and continue on
afterwards as if nothing has happened," Delenn explained.  "But that is not
all -- I . . . when the religious and worker caste members of the Council
came with me, the Council itself was -- was broken."
   "What?" Sheridan asked sharply, staring at her.  "You mean your own
government doesn't even *exist* anymore?"
   "The Holy One still leads, but the Council is no more," she answered
quietly.
   "Okay, so why tell me this now, Delenn?  What's going on?" Sheridan asked,
realizing that, like most Minbari, she never explained this much unless it
was something he needed to know.
   "We learned that some of the warriors returned to their clans, and that at
least one of them has returned to the duties he had assumed before becoming
Satai," Delenn hedged.
   "And that one would be --?" Sheridan asked, while wondering why everyone
seemed to like making him *work* for information.
   "Shai Alyt Neroon, of the Star Riders," she answered, unable to completely
hide the note of distaste in her voice.
   "Neroon, again!  So what does he-- oh.  No."  Sheridan sat down suddenly,
and Delenn pulled up a chair to sit at his side.
   "John?"
   Sheridan looked at her and said, "I'm almost afraid to know the answer,
but let me guess:  he heard about Sinclair, and he's on his way here."
   Delenn sighed, and answered, "As your people say, 'got it in one'."
   "Great," Sheridan grumbled, thinking about the last time Neroon had
visited the station.  "How much time do we have to warn everyone?"
   Delenn paused, trying to think of a delicate way to answer.  Just then,
one of the techs said, "Captain, there's a Minbari war cruiser nearing us,
and two of the patrolling cruisers are moving to intercept."
   Delenn tilted her head slightly and said, "None."
   "Wonderful."
*     *     *
   "This is the Minbari War Cruiser *Ishum*.  You will move aside *now* and
not impede us," Neroon directed, then looked over at Komarr.  "Damned fools
don't know when to keep their meddling fingers out of things!"
   "We didn't exactly part from them on the best of terms, Satai.  They have
no way of knowing our intentions."
   "And so they move to intercept us before even asking why we are here.  I
think protecting this station has gone to their heads!"
   "They have a duty to perform, Satai.  I think they are showing commendable
attentiveness," Komarr said softly.
   "Satai, they are answering," a young warrior announced.  "They demand we
explain our intentions here."
   "They *demand* . . . Tell them we are here to visit.  They need know
nothing more."
   The warrior responded to the other ships' hail, and after a moment said,
"They will allow us to pass, Satai."
   "How gracious of them," Neroon commented with a sneer.  He instructed the
helm to pass the blockade and move the *Ishum* into a parking position near
Babylon 5.
   Then he stood and turned to Komarr and said, "You and Kozorr will
accompany me."
   The two warriors bowed and followed their lord to his flyer, the
*Ninildu*, and they headed for Babylon 5.
*     *     *
   Garibaldi smoothed his uniform jacket, watching his reflection in the
mirror. Then he reached for the sleeveless over-jacket and shrugged into it,
making the outfit the current equivalent of his dress uniform.
   *How convenient it's black,* he thought bitterly, *perfect for mourning .
. .*
   Then he looked at his reflection again and sighed. He was ready to face
Neroon and the rest of his entourage; ready to grit his teeth through more
stupid, empty speeches of Sheridan's . . .
   *No, I'm *not* ready.*
   He shook his head, feeling the ache welling up inside him again. *Damn
it,* he thought, squashing it back down. *I will not break down I will not
break down . . .*
   A few deep breaths later, he had temporarily beaten back the crushing
sadness. One final check in the mirror, then he turned away and strode out of
his quarters before he had time to think about what he was doing.
   Striding down the corridor, he suddenly realized, *Neroon probably doesn't
even *know* . . . My god -- what is he going to do when he finds out?!*
   He arrived at the docking bay just before Marcus, turned to look at the
slender Ranger. Red-rimmed eyes looked back at him, and Garibaldi felt the
sadness try to overtake him again. Marcus had been Sinclair's friend, too,
and he was handling it only slightly better than Garibaldi.
   "Does Neroon know?" he whispered to Marcus when they stood side-by-side,
waiting for their guests.
   Marcus frowned for a moment, then answered, "To tell you the truth, I've
got no idea.  And if he does, I doubt he knows the *whole* story."
   "Yeah. We'd be bits of space dust by now if he did," Garibaldi mused.
*Probably be better off that way, too,* he thought glumly.
   Just then Sheridan glanced sharply in their direction and they
straightened, just in time for Neroon's approach.
   Sheridan and Delenn were first in line, waiting to greet Neroon and
whoever accompanied him, and hopefully to satisfy Neroon's curiosity and
demands *before* he began taking the station apart . . .
   Garibaldi watched over Ivanova's shoulder for Neroon's approach. Soon he
could see the Minbari nearing, and was very glad greeting them was Sheridan's
job. Neither Neroon nor his companions seemed comfortable, even the usually
calm Komarr looking slightly nervous.
   The trio stopped before Sheridan and Delenn, and bowed, Neroon stiffly and
at the barest angle necessary to avoid insult, while Kozorr and Komarr bowed
as was appropriate to their rank. 
   Delenn bowed in return, with Sheridan echoing her a split-second later,
then she said, "Shai Alyt Neroon."
   "Ambassador Delenn," Neroon said stiffly, all but ignoring Sheridan. He
was annoyed, but not surprised by her refusal to call him Satai. "I am
certain you know the reasons for my visit. I was told that Si-- that
Entil'Zha came here, and I have come to escort him back to Minbar."
   "That is no longer your place, Shai Alyt," Delenn was saying, while
Garibaldi, Marcus, and Ivanova tried desperately to school their faces.
   Ivanova turned to Garibaldi and whispered, "You mean he *doesn't know*?!"
   "Sinclair is a-- I have a right to *speak* with him, Ambassador," Neroon
said with a slight catch in his voice. Garibaldi raised an eyebrow and
watched Neroon more closely, while Marcus nodded an answer to Ivanova.
   Then Sheridan spoke up, "Perhaps, Shai Alyt, we should move this
discussion to my office. There is far greater privacy there."
   Garibaldi could see the fear light in Neroon's eyes, quickly hidden again
but only barely. Neroon obviously knew -- or suspected -- something.
   "Very well," Neroon agreed, trying to squash the sudden fear that roiled
in him. Sheridan led the way with Delenn at his side, and Neroon followed.
   When he came abreast of Garibaldi he looked up into the grey eyes, and
what he saw there made the fear grow stronger. Then he walked on, followed by
Komarr and Kozorr and Ivanova, Garibaldi, and Marcus brought up the rear.
   Ivanova hissed to Garibaldi and Marcus, "*Is* she going to tell him?"
   "I don't know," came the answer in unison.
*     *     *
   Once in Sheridan's office, Neroon looked sharply at Delenn and said, "I
trust you realize you are *not* reassuring me, Ambassador.  I demand to know
where Sinclair is!" Then he paused, took a couple of deep breaths. *There is
something very wrong, or they would have said something by now,* he thought,
forcing the fear back. *I am a warrior -- leader of my clan -- I am Satai!  I
will not allow them to see me like this!*
   He stole a quick look around the room, his gaze finally settling on
Garibaldi. The security chief was staring at Sheridan, a mixture of anger and
pain in his eyes. Neroon felt the fear try to escape again -- Garibaldi was
Sinclair's friend, and if he looked like that, then . . .
   He returned his attention to Delenn, ignoring the ridiculous adoring
expression in StarKiller's eyes as the fool watched her every move.
   "Ambassador Delenn, I am not stupid. From your lack of explanation, I can
already tell that something is wrong," Neroon said firmly. "Now, tell me
where Jeffrey Sinclair is!"
   Garibaldi fidgeted, and even the woman Ivanova seemed uncomfortable.
StarKiller was beginning to look concerned, and then Delenn took a deep
breath and spoke.
   "Shai Alyt, I am sorry I do not have an easy answer to your question. I
have tried to think of a way to say this which would lessen the blow, but I
see now that you will have nothing but the truth." She paused to look at
Kozorr and Komarr, then said, "There is one thing I must ask of you, however,
before I tell you. This situation is delicate . . ."
   *As delicate as the throat I will choke the answer out of if I must?*
Neroon thought
impatiently.
   " . . . and could disrupt out people far more than recent events have."
   "*Our* people," Neroon muttered. "Our people?  I claim not kinship with
*you*. Tell me the answer and be *done* with it!"
   And now StarKiller was stepping in where he did not belong, saying, "If
you stop interrupting her and arguing--"
   "Why are *you* even here, StarKiller? Why are any of your people here if
this is a Minbari matter?"
   "Satai, please," Komarr said softly, the calm, quiet voice soothing his
frayed nerves, but only slightly.
   Delenn stood taller and spoke again. "Because Sinclair was one of them,
this matter concerns them. Because he was Entil'Zha, it concerns both Marcus
and Kozorr. If bluntness is all you understand, then bluntness you shall
have!
   "You asked where Jeffrey Sinclair is:  Jeffrey Sinclair no longer lives in
this time."
   *Because Sinclair *was* one of them . . . Because he *was* Entil'Zha . . .
Jeffrey Sinclair *no longer lives* . . .*
   Suddenly he could not draw breath and a great rushing sound filled his
ears. Played out before his mind's eye was a horrible event he remembered
painfully well:  Shai Alyt Branmer, his eyes wide with sudden shock and pain,
gasping and crumbling to his knees at his side. And now a second loss, as
sudden, crushing, devastating as the first . . .
   He felt his world shatter -- again -- crumbling to fragments he could
never hope to piece together . . . "No," he breathed, "He cannot be -- he
*must* not be . . ."
   And now, somehow, he was in one of the chairs, and Kozorr was at his side.
There was a glass of water being pushed into his hand -- he looked up and saw
the pain, un-shuttered, full force, in Garibaldi's grey eyes.
   He stared into those eyes, finding the answer he didn't want to the
question he couldn't bring himself to ask. Garibaldi blinked back tears and
said, "I'm sorry . . ."
   Neroon drank some of the water, only realizing after he did so that his
throat had gone bone dry. His vision swam, then, and he realized his face was
wet with tears. Breaking down like this -- in front of StarKiller! And yet,
he realized he could not rein in the emotions he felt -- could not regain his
control . . .
   Suddenly she was there again, sadness in her eyes. "You!" he snarled,
sitting up and startling Garibaldi and Kozorr with the sudden movement. "You
and your damned *prophecy*," he spat the word as if the taste of it made him
ill, "are responsible for his death!"
   He could see StarKiller try to come to her defense, but Komarr smoothly
moved to block him. No matter -- he would deal with StarKiller later.
   She looked down at him and he could see the question in her eyes that even
*she* didn't dare voice:  Why did he care so about a human? He glared back at
her with the only answer he would ever give to her on the matter:  None of
*your* business.
   He would never -- could never -- let her know what he had sensed in
Sinclair. Never let her know that the man was human in form only, that she
and the others on that ship, at the Line, had been right. Never tell her that
every time he met those brown eyes beneath strange hairy eyebrows, he had
seen a fellow Minbari looking back at him . . .
   Then Garibaldi was back at his side, and he caught the angry glance the
security chief threw at StarKiller, the slightly less angry, but still
accusing look at Delenn. Then those grey eyes, bleak as a winter's day, met
his again and Garibaldi said, "He's not dead." Then he frowned, and hedged,
"Well . . . he is, but he wasn't killed or anything like that . . ."
   Neroon frowned as StarKiller cleared his throat and in a rather
threatening tone began, "Garibaldi . . ."
   Suddenly Ivanova came forward and Neroon was surprised to hear her say,
"He has a right to know at *least* that much, Sir." Garibaldi nodded, and
deliberately turned his back on Sheridan.
   "I wasn't there, but they told me a little bit about it," Garibaldi said.
   Neroon looked from face to face, anger again seizing him when he saw
Delenn and StarKiller. Delenn had the gall to look displeased with
Garibaldi's honesty.
   He opened his mouth to speak, further embarrassed when the sound that
emerged was rough with emotion. He swallowed hard and asked, "What do you
*mean* he's dead but was not killed?"
   Garibaldi boldly met his gaze, an action he would have taken strictly as
an insult at one time, but now understood it for what it was:  Garibaldi
wanted him to *know* the truth, and did not want Delenn or StarKiller to
interrupt him in any way. Tears again welled in his eyes at this gesture of
honour from a human.
   Then Garibaldi was speaking and he found himself clinging to every word.
"Delenn told the truth when she said Jeff 'no longer lives in this time',
Neroon. However, the reason it's true is because he travelled *through* time
to help--" Garibaldi's voice suddenly cut off and the man nearly choked, then
swallowed hard and blinked tears from his eyes, "--to help another part of
the war effort," he finished, his own voice now thick with tears. "He lives,
but not in this time . . ."
   Neroon slowly nodded, seeing once again the lies that Delenn spoke so
freely. Could she say nothing truthfully?
   Then Garibaldi shuddered and fell back to sit on the edge of Sheridan's
desk, shaking with the effort of controlling his tears. Marcus came forward
and, excusing himself, walked Garibaldi back to the couch where he helped the
man sit.
   Neroon looked up at Delenn again, was about to ask if Sinclair would
return but the look in her eyes answered the unvoiced question. He felt
something deep inside him struggling to get out, and knew he had to get out
of there -- away from Delenn, away from StarKiller -- just . . . *away*.
   He looked at Kozorr and Komarr, then swept to his feet. He bowed stiffly
to Sheridan and Delenn, and as if from a great distance heard himself
thanking them for sharing the information. Part of his mind wondered why,
when it really had been Garibaldi.
   Then he turned and saw Garibaldi, looking as broken as he felt, huddled
against Marcus and shaking with tears; unashamed to show the emotions Neroon
could not allow himself to. Marcus looked up at him and softly said, "I'm
sorry, Satai."
   Neroon nodded, then laid a hand on Garibaldi's shoulder and whispered,
"Thank you." Then he strode out of the room, his two guards following behind,
and did not stop until they reached the *Ninildu*.

   Once safely inside the flyer, Neroon whispered, "One of you will need to
fly this ship. I . . . need some time."
   Kozorr bowed and said, "Of course, Satai," and took over the controls
while Neroon sat in one of the passenger seats.
   During the pre-launch routine, Neroon sat silently, staring into
nothingness. He knew that if Kozorr and Komarr weren't busy with the
operation of the flyer itself, they would both be very concerned.
   However, once the flyer left Babylon 5 and the dark majesty of space
appeared on the screen before him, the pain welled up inside him and he could
no longer stop the tears. He did not even care that Komarr rose from his seat
and held him as he cried -- he was tired of pain and loneliness, and very
tired of deaths with nothing physical left behind to honour . . .
*     *     *
   Once Neroon left, Marcus helped Garibaldi up and started to walk out,
until Sheridan said, "Wait a minute."
   They stopped in mid-step, Marcus very concerned about just how much
Garibaldi could take at the moment. "Captain?" he asked, while Garibaldi
sniffled and tried to wipe the tears from his face.
   "I --uh-- thanks," Sheridan said lamely when Garibaldi finally met his
gaze.
   "Yeah," Garibaldi said quietly, nodding slowly. Then he looked at Delenn
for a moment and said, "I'm still not sure I shouldn't have told him the rest
. . ."
   Delenn frowned slightly and said, "That may have hurt him *more* than what
he knows now."
   Garibaldi took a deep breath and said, "Yeah. Maybe . . ." Then very
quietly, he added, "It's hell to lose someone you really care about and never
even be able to say goodbye . . ."  He shot an angry glance at Sheridan, a
small part of him glad when he saw the comment hit home.
   Then he turned to Ivanova and said, "Thanks for helping, Susan," and
started for the door again. Marcus walked with him, determined to make sure
he arrived safely back at his quarters.
   Sheridan still stood behind his desk, trying to formulate a proper
response. Finally he sighed and slumped back into his chair. He glanced at
Delenn, then at Ivanova, and said, "Well, I guess that could have gone better
. . ."
   Ivanova nodded and merely said, "You're probably right, Sir."  Then she
said, "I've got duty in the morning, so I should be going, too . . ."
   "Goodnight, Commander," Delenn said softly, bowing slightly as Ivanova
nodded to her.
   Sheridan also nodded to Ivanova, then said, "Susan, I'm sorry -- I really
*am*. I just -- I don't know what to say to him."
   Ivanova met his gaze and replied, "Right now, perhaps the less you say,
the better. Sir." Then she turned and strode out, leaving Sheridan and Delenn
alone to wonder if they had really made the right decisions . . .

The End