Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)

And the fourth…. That would be the most important message of them all. A warning of a sort, but so much more than that. He would know what to do with it, and he was the one person she could trust to act on what she had learned.

She had needed time to do these things, time apart from John, time she did not want to lose. But they were necessary, and now they were done.

There was one other thing she had needed to do as well. That accomplished, she could begin to make herself ready.

His face on seeing her had been all the reward she could need.

The dress was white and gold, a mixture of human and Minbari design. She was not sure if its cut was flattering or ludicrous, but John certainly seemed to like it. She had begun its commission before the beginning of G'Kar's fateful summit on Babylon 4, and she had quite forgotten it until now.

He had said nothing, as if he had been entirely struck dumb. Then he had smiled, and stepped into her quarters. "You look beautiful."

He was wearing a uniform much like his old one. He had showered and shaved, and he looked just as he had for those first months, before his virus had become dangerous and after they had finally managed to acknowledge what they felt.

"How do you feel?" she asked, not wanting to take her eyes from him, fixing everything in her memory.

"I…. strange," he admitted. "But in a good way. Everything tingles. But…. look." He reached out his hand, and took hers. "Isn't that a miracle?"

"Yes," she swallowed. "A miracle."

"I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. I never knew the Vorlons could do that. Repair all the damage…. and the virus. I…." He shook his head, smiling in wonderment. "I just don't believe it."

"What will you do now?" she whispered.

"Oh…. stay here, I suppose. David's doing fine with the Babylon…. at least, from what I can remember he is. I'm inclined to let him keep it. Maybe take a higher position. If we're going to take the war to the Shadows, after all, we'll need all the soldiers we can get."

Yes. Soldiers. Not healers.

"You would be welcome. I know Taan Churok will appreciate your assistance."

"It won't be easy," he admitted. "But I really think we can do it now. Especially with the Vorlons to help us." He smiled. "This is a turning point, Delenn. Everything's going to be all right now."

"Yes," she whispered, reaching up a hand to touch his face. "Everything will be…. all right."

There was a comfortable silence as she stared into his eyes. All the innocence and compassion and love…. everything that had been there before was there again now. All the horror he had seen was gone from his gaze. It was filled only with love for her.

"John," she said. "I love you."

His smile widened. "I love you, Delenn, you know that. I always love you…. even if I forget to say it from time to time."

"I know. I always knew."

She leaned in for a kiss, and he received her happily. She thought she might be beginning to cry. "John. Will you…. stay here tonight?"

"Are you…? I mean…."

"John, I love you. Stay with me?"

He reached forward and kissed her again in reply. She did cry at last, but her tears were of joy, not sorrow. They would have this time together, and no one — not the Vorlons, not the Shadows, not Deathwalker or Sinoval or Bester — would be able to take this night from them.

She now had something to take with her to Z'ha'dum.

* * *

Warleader G'Sten evaluated the remnants of his fleet and bit back a profanity. He did not in fact have the energy for anger anyway. He felt nothing beyond a profound depression, and a realisation that chances he should have taken in the past had now slipped away from him.

He should have listened to G'Kar, but he had not, and now his men had paid the price.

The Kha'Ri would be furious of course. At the least, they would demand his head. Perhaps they would even ask for the heads of his captains.

He would resign. He would accept responsibility. It was all over; the galaxy was doomed now, and everything would be washed away in darkness and fire. He had seen those Shadows, and they were all but invincible. The entire might of the Narn fleet had been unable so much as to scratch them. It was over.

They could not win. No one could win.

He would resign before the Kha'Ri, and go to the estate his family had once owned before the Centauri had come. He would tend the tree his brother had died on, he would sit and look at the sunsets, and he would wait for the end.

It was over now. The war was over. Life was over.

He would simply wait for the end.

* * *

There were a number of skills any good secret agent needed, but foremost of all was the ability to know when to run, and when to stop running. Sooner or later everything fell apart, and when that happened the best thing to hope for was a good head start, and a better hiding place.