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"I WAS born in the fires of war, tempered in steel and fury, forged by Durhan into a weapon both deadly and strong. I fought alongside the greatest of my kind. Neroon, Sinoval, Kalain, Hieral, Durhan himself. And I bested them all. I was proud and strong, convinced in my own destiny, my own purity of thought and feeling.
"I was indestructible.
"And then, I came to the abyss. I looked down into the darkness, and I was not afraid. I was the greatest, was I not? I could face anything the Enemy would send against me. I was proud and arrogant and strong.
"And I fell. I fell tumbling into the abyss, as did Marrain and Parlonn a thousand years before. Like them, I abandoned the name I had been given, the name I had borne, for another, one that showed the truth of my shame, and my pride.
"And I fell, and I kept falling. When I thought I could fall no further, the abyss stretched out beneath me, and still I fell. I forsook everything that had ever been mine - my name, my title, my friends.
"Here is where I stop falling. Here is where I stand as a warrior once more. I can never reclaim my name, but I can reclaim in part at least my honour.
"You are a warrior too. You understand this, better than perhaps anyone else. You alone in all the galaxy can understand what I am, and what I was. That is why you were brought here - to witness and understand, to tell of how the being who was once Tryfan of the Wind Swords became a warrior again.
"One warrior to another, Starkiller. One warrior to another."
* * * * * * *
"I still think this is bloody stupid," she whispered. "Why can't we just call for help, for God's sake?"
"Do you want to shut her up, Cole, or should I?" whispered Neroon in reply, in Lenn-ah.
"You can try," Marcus replied. "I'd rather go to Z'ha'dum alone and unarmed than try and shut her up."
"Small risk, now that there is no Z'ha'dum," Neroon replied.
"Yes, fine, don't worry about me," Susan muttered to herself. "Just babble on in your own language and ignore me. That's fine, doesn't bother me at all. I can't believe I got talked into doing this. I mean, what was I thinking?"
"Susan?" Marcus said.
"Yes."
"Shut up."
It was dark here. Of course it had to be dark. This whole area was isolated from the rest of the energy systems on the station. Somehow it had been taken over by this weird cult just as the station went on line, and they'd managed to keep it hidden for the best part of four years, until Mr. Garibaldi had wandered into it.
They'd been meaning to get the area sorted out of course, but in between the Shadows, the Vorlons, the First Ones, Bester, Clark and God knows what else, they'd never been able to get around to it.
It was funny - Susan found herself wishing Garibaldi was around. She hadn't seen him in weeks. This was his version of Franklin's walkabout, she supposed. She just hoped he got through this all right. Franklin seemed to have. He actually looked happy these days.
What was it Susan had thought earlier? Three ways to happiness: get married, become Emperor, or get stabbed in the back and left to die.
She still preferred the third one. It sounded the least painful of the three. (Not that she was likely to go for any of them of course. Somebody around here had to maintain some perspective.)
Not for the first time she wondered what she was doing. Neroon and Marcus had babbled about honour and redemption and warriors and so on, but given that they were about to face an unknown force that had managed to kidnap the Captain and injure Delenn, while carrying two large sticks between them, she doubted that either of them knew what they were doing. She gripped her PPG tighter.
Was this just a chance for her to avoid thinking about her own problems? Burying herself in work again. This could hardly be qualified as work, but still....
"I take it you do know what you're doing," she whispered up at Marcus. She could only see his silhouette, but at least she was sure he was still there.
"We don't have to do anything," he replied. "They'll come to us."
"Great," she said. "That's battlefield strategy for you."
"Who said anything about strategy?"
Susan was unsure whether it was herself or Marcus who acted first. She remembered a burst of PPG fire, a shouted oath and a scrambling to get behind cover. Cover here was not much, it had to be said, but it was something.
She readied her own weapon and glanced across at Marcus' silhouette. Neroon was nowhere in sight. She was certain that Marcus was making that damned annoying smile of his.
"Told you," he said.
* * * * * * *
Lady Elrisia started at the sound of weapon fire. She flicked a glance upwards, at where Shryne was standing. He looked almost at peace, cast in the flickering light of the pulpit. Sheridan was not far away, manacled to a support beam. He was bleeding and hunched up, but still alive.
This wasn't what Elrisia had bargained for. Shryne was acting more and more strangely. When he - or more precisely, Marrit - had come to her speaking of the chance to gain revenge and a restoration of her former wealth and status, she had been only too eager to get involved. The fact that this would involve kidnapping and hurting Captain Sheridan only made her more eager, but now she was not so sure.
Shryne scared her, and she was not alone there. She knew Marrit was scared of him, and as for the Narn.... well, what did he matter? Shryne resembled less a Minbari to her, and more like.... like.... well, she didn't know what like, but the Narn did. She understood that the Narns had some pagan demon type things in their foolish mythologies. If she gave the Narn's religious beliefs any credit, she would have to acknowledge that that was what Shryne resembled.
He didn't even look much like a Minbari any more. His skin was blackened and scarred, his head bone cracked and shattered, one eye burned away.
Lady Elrisia did not like this. She was no warrior, and she wanted no part in Shryne's babble about redemption and blood. All she wanted was a return to the position and the wealth that were hers by right.
She hadn't signed on for this.
"They are nearly here," Shryne said, clearly speaking for Sheridan's benefit. "They are nearly here." He turned to Lady Elrisia. "Go," he said. "You have done your part. You are no warrior."
She didn't need to be told twice. She'd made almost three steps into the shadows behind the pulpit when she heard a voice speaking in Minbari. Turning, she saw a Minbari stepping into view. He was almost identical to Shryne, a Shryne as he must have been before.
"Neroon," Shryne said, stepping down from the pulpit. "I knew you would make your way here. I've been expecting you."
* * * * * * *
Susan was still resting behind the mass of rubble while the withering PPG fire blasted above her head. She looked at Marcus, who was started to crawl around his own meagre cover. She knew that he expected her to cover him. In another situation she might have been a little irritated at him blithely expecting things of her, but she knew enough about battle. She might not quite have been a warrior like Marcus and Neroon, but she knew what to do.
Moving slowly upwards, she could pick out the shape of a human standing not far away. Marcus was slowly nearing the human, his fighting pike compressed.
Susan rose and fired. The human ducked back, and Marcus lunged out, extending his pike almost instantly. Susan heard the audible crack as the human's arm smashed. She could dimly see the human stagger back, and Marcus press forward, and then....
Whatever vestige of warrior instincts she possessed alerted her to the presence behind her. Ducking and rolling, she threw herself away from the Narn who had appeared out of nowhere. He was wielding a sword, but no apparent long range weapon.
A sword for God's sake! Did nobody around here have any sense?
Still, a sword could do just as much damage to her as a PPG, and would probably be far more painful.
The Narn was fast, though. Almost too fast. She was having to keep backing away, not daring raise her PPG for fear of what he could do in the second it took her to fire.
She didn't even sense the PPG blast that would have burned a hole straight through her back, but she did sense strong arms grab her and pull her backwards.
For a split second it seemed as though she were flying, rolling and tumbling through the air. She knew it was Marcus who held her, who was taking her away from the shot which would have killed her, but she didn't think about those things. She simply knew.
Her landing was not especially hard, but later, when she realised that they had fallen through a hatch that lead down to the next sub-level, she was amazed that it could have not been so. Admittedly, they had landed on a pile of rubbish, and she had landed on top of Marcus, but the landing had still jarred her. All she could do was roll over and bury her head down under her arms as PPG fire blazed above them.
Then she remembered Marcus.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
"Fine...." he rasped. She had landed on top of him. She nearly laughed. "Just.... fine...."
"Not your day, is it?" she whispered.
And then she realised just how close they were, her face just an inch or so from his. She could see the light shining in his eyes and feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Looking directly into his eyes, she saw an innocence and a vulnerability that had always been there, but had been buried beneath layer upon layer of grief and loss and war. For a moment she hated Delenn and Sheridan for doing this to Marcus, for taking an artist and making a warrior. She knew it wasn't their fault, of course, but she had no one else to blame.
Slowly, she lowered her mouth to his....
Instinct kicked in again, and she rolled away, raising her weapon. He leapt to his feet in a motion that was sickeningly graceful and ducked behind a beam. The Narn and the human were near. she knew it.
"We'll continue that conversation later," he whispered to her.
"We weren't having a conversation," she replied, hurriedly replacing her exhausted energy cap.
"Yes, we were," he said. "We just weren't using words."
She shook her head, and pressed herself tightly against the wall. She'd long ago given up on trying to fathom him out.
* * * * * * *
Sheridan was witnessing the fight between Neroon and Shryne though dimly lidded eyes. The sound of metal crashing against metal had grown into one monotonous clang, which was tearing into his mind. He was thirsty, but couldn't notice his thirst. He was hungry, but ignored the rumbling in his belly. He was watching, but his mind was not there.
His mind was back at Z'ha'dum. He saw again the fire raining from the sky as the White Star came plummeting towards the planet. He saw Anna, reaching out her hand to.... no, not Anna. The thing that had once been Anna.
He remembered falling.... so far and so deep....
I will watch, and catch you if you should fall.
And he remembered Delenn. She had been watching, and she had caught him. And he had caught her as she fell. He had heard from Stephen and Susan of what had happened during his absence. He had heard about her near starvation, from guilt and grief. He had been anguished for a while at the realisation of just how closely his and Delenn's lives were brought together. He knew about the cost of his salvation, of the limited life he had left....
When he was dead, Delenn had nearly died as well. Would she act the same when he finally stopped? Were their lives that bound together - that when one died, so did the other? If she died now, from whatever it was that Shryne and Elrisia had done to her, would he die here as well?
No. For if one died, then so would the other, but by the same token, if one lived, then so would the other.
He barely heard Neroon's grunt of pain as Shryne's pike broke three ribs.
He scarcely noticed Shryne being backed against the pulpit, which was smashed into wooden shards as Shryne threw himself aside, and Neroon's pike completed its deadly descent.
I will watch, and catch you if you should fall.
You caught me, Delenn. You always caught me.
John? Her voice, or simply an illusion? Did it matter?
Could I love you that much and not forgive, Delenn? You caught me when I fell. I love you.
John, I'm.... I....
There's no need to say anything. I understand.
I will watch, and catch you if you should fall.
And I will watch you, Delenn. It's my turn to catch you, I think.
And as Sheridan looked up, to see Neroon's still body crumple to the ground, bloodstained and torn, and Shryne standing proud, he was hit by a revelation as profound and as terrifying as ever he'd experienced.
Shryne had had no one to catch him when he fell.
* * * * * * *
"She's crashing!"
Franklin buried the forefront of his mind in instinct and action. Delenn's body was spasming on her bed, low moans coming from her mouth, and blood from the three scratches that were her only visible sign of injury. Franklin's mind - trained and forged - evaluated instantly the course of action, the strategy, the problem, but the back of his mind, the part that was human and not doctor, was terrified.
And then he learned that both doctor and human can be surprised from time to time.
Delenn's body stilled, and her eyes opened.
"John?" she whispered. "You caught me."
* * * * * * *
Marcus could practically feel Susan's presence nearby. It was both invigorating and terrifying, to know that she was so ingrained upon who he was that he could sense her even in the middle of battle. It was a combination of her smell of her hair, the sound of her breathing, the.... it was impossible to put into words. He simply knew.
Even as his pike crashed against the Narn's katok sword, he knew where she was, ducking behind cover, avoiding the human's PPG fire, and trying to get in a shot of her own.
Marcus was still thinking about Susan as he confronted the Narn, metal crashing against metal, Minbari pike against Narn katok. Marcus knew that, once drawn, a katok could not be sheathed until blood was drawn. It was a point of honour amongst Narn. Their warrior's code.
Who had this Narn been? What hatred or anger or fury or love had driven him to fall this far? Did G'Kar know about him? Had he been warrior, or slave, or builder, or anything else? Did the Narns even need a reason? Consumed by hatred, until hatred was the only emotion they knew. G'Kar had tried preaching otherwise, but his words were slow to reach those who needed to hear them, and sometimes, they were too late.
The Narn stumbled back, and swung out with the katok. Marcus met the blow evenly, raising his pike, and letting the sword smash against his length of firm metal. The Narn stumbled back, looking at the shattered ruin of his blade, and Marcus thudded his pike into the Narn's belly. He fell, and did not rise.
Marcus turned, to see Susan crashing her elbow into the human's neck. Their two PPG's lay on the floor and they were locked in hand to hand combat. The man tried to claw at her eyes, but she grabbed his hand and wrenched it back, snapping the wrist. The man slumped, and she crashed his head into the floor. He was still.
Crawling out from under his body, Susan retrieved her weapon and Marcus saw her looking up at him.
"We have to find the Captain," she said.
"No problem," he replied, a wave of optimism sweeping over him. "If we're lucky, Neroon will already have managed it, and then we can get back to the conversation that was interrupted earlier...."
She was blushing, he was certain of it. He couldn't see her well enough to be sure, but he knew it somehow.
"We'll see...." she began, and then she started. "Marcus!" Lunging forward, she knocked him aside with a force he found surprising. Marcus wasn't sure what happened next, but he heard a soft crack, a softer gasp, and the sound of a body tumbling to the floor.
Staggering to his feet, Marcus saw Susan slumped on the floor and the Narn standing over her, a bloodstained dagger in his hand. Susan was not moving.
Marcus lost all reason. He lunged forward with his pike, and smashed it into the Narn's side. His opponent staggered back, and feebly raised his dagger, wielded in his good arm. Marcus broke that arm as well. The density of Narn bones was much greater than humans', and it took force to break a Narn's bone.
Marcus smashed the arm into fragments with one blow.
The dagger fell to the floor, landing with a clatter. Marcus didn't hear it.
The Narn fell back, and the look in his eyes as he stared up at his killer was one of agony, and pain, but above all.... acceptance.
A warrior's death. What more could one born a slave - his tongue removed by his Centauri masters - ask for?
Marcus didn't care. With a single blow he caved in the Narn's skull. The Narn was dead before he hit the ground.
Marcus could only stare at what he had done for a moment, wishing the Narn were still alive so that he could kill him again. Then, the red mist descended, and he turned, half staggering, half crawling, to where Susan lay.
She was motionless. He couldn't even hear the sound of her breathing.
And then there was another motion behind him. He did not sense it until it was directly on top of him, and when he turned to meet it, he was too slow, too sluggish, too uncaring.
Lady Elrisia raked the poisoned nails on her gloves across his face, and then she vanished back into the darkness. Marcus could feel the effects on the poison spreading through him, and he was still sane enough to remember what Susan had told him about the drug that had felled the Captain and was coming close to killing Delenn.
He fought his way to his feet and, using his pike as a cane, hobbled forward, standing over Susan's body. He would stand here, and meet the one who was behind this, and if he were to die here, then so be it.
Moving out of the darkness, came the one he had been waiting for. Shryne stepped forward, and dropped something to the ground by his side. It was Neroon's body. Neroon was as motionless as Susan.
Moving his head slowly, every motion taking every piece of effort and energy he could muster, Marcus turned his head to meet Shryne's eyes.
One warrior to another.
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