| "10 since years
since the world
changed. 10 years since I
changed. Feels like I never left the
place. Babylon 5 is a
place of beginnings and endings. I wonder which
this will be." He hated parties. He missed his friends. He regretted everything and nothing. Why, he asked himself, had he agreed to come back when he knew full well it would bring everything to the surface. Four years of his life, he'd told that ISN reporter. Yeah, four years. The cost of those four years had been an almost unbearable price to pay. Aboard this station he'd laughed and cried, lived and died, been put back in one piece over and over again until there was barely enough left to graft together. Babylon 5 brought back brilliant and terrible memories, stacked one on top of the next on top of the next, overlapping so there wasn't a memory which was purely happiness, which brought him pure joy. Except maybe one. Because it stood out of time, out of place. Even though what led up to it had been hell itself, even though what had come after almost broke his heart. One night, one almighty fucking row, shouting, yelling. screaming, so much pain and devastation and betrayal, so much emotion, so much passion on either side. How the hell it had ended up the way it did, he'd never know; the most incredible night of his life. A few precious hours that stood out like… like that shining beacon in his mind. Despite the way it had turned out in the end, despite the pain of its ending, the start of his intimate relationship with Michael Garibaldi was the best moment of his life. He smiled to himself, a little sadly. Liz had said he might be here, but then it didn't appear that he'd made it. Why would he? What had the Interstellar Alliance ever done for…. "Mr President. Heard you had one hell of a journey." "Michael…." A moment's hesitation, then steel arms enfolded him and he embraced his old friend with something a little more than friendship. "Didn't think you'd make it." "What," he felt warm breath against his throat, "and miss out on spending a night with you aboard B5?" Michael backed up, hands grasping John's shoulders. "You look amazing." "I look grey." "Distinguished." John smiled. "I love you too." "Seriously. You're… shining. Beautiful. I miss you." He thought he might have blushed. Michael's eyes moved to the champagne glass in his hands filled with OJ. "Still no alcohol." There was a sad note to his tone that John didn't want to hear. "Just habit," he reassured. "I'm fine, really." "Really?" "Please, Mike…. I don't want to think about all that, not tonight." Not yet. "Did you want to stay at the party?" Meeting hazelnut eyes, John took a deep breath. And shook his head. "No." ~ "You keep rooms aboard Babylon 5?" Michael shrugged as John laughed. "How often do you come back here?" "I hold business meetings here sometimes. But that's not why." Michael reached out, took John's hand in his own; brushed over the wedding ring encircling one long, powerful finger. It still stung to see it. "There are things I don't want to forget. I come here sometimes, to remind myself." He watched John's once blue, now grey eyes drop to their hands and caught his breath as a gentle thumb stroked the backs of his knuckles. "Does it hurt to remember?" Michael smiled wanly. "Oh, yeah. Hurts like hell." Folding his fingers over John's, he took a step forward, reaching up to comb his fingers through silver grey hair. He remembered it brown, remembered a younger John Sheridan, starship captain taking over the reigns of a massive city in space, uncertain, unsure, looking to them all in some small way for support. And almost from the start Michael had been more than willing to give it. John took a step too; Michael felt the warmth of his palm against his face, eyes locking on to his mouth. The first sensation was strange, beard against beard, not something he was used to and he'd bet John wasn't either. He hoped he wasn't. The idea of some other guy…. Then John's tongue stroked passed his lips, across his tongue, and Michael angled his head, deepened the kiss, and forgot that there might be other people in the life of the man he'd long ago fallen so, so deeply in love with. ~ "How did you know about my journey?" Michael turned on to his side, hoisting his head up onto his elbow, drinking in the open face smiling at him. John always slept on his side. Countless times he had opened his eyes in the middle of the night and stayed awake to just watch him sleep, to watch the peace in his face that he never saw during the day. "I dreamt about it. You know that feeling when… you know it's not a dream? John smiled almost knowingly and nodded. "It was Galen. And I swear if I ever see his elfin face again I'll slap him into next week." Michael chuckled. "I'm so sick of them playing games with me, sneaking around in my head…." For a moment the silken voice cracked and a cold chill rippled over Michael's happiness. For all the controlled façade he presented to the world - this incredibly powerful man holding the future of so many safely in his hands - the cracks were so close to the surface, the sheen so thin, it was a wonder he had held himself together for so long. "I don't know how much more I can take." It was a whisper, a terrible whisper, and it tore at Michael's heart. "Jesus, John…." Lifting his hand to the side of Sheridan's head, Michael stoked his thumb through the hair at his temple, his fingers following the curve of one ear. There was something about this man that could break him apart in a second. Every day Michael made decisions that had such far-reaching effects, he tried not to tread on lives just to make a few credits more but he was know as a ruthless businessman, keeping Edgars Industries running in the cut-throat world in which it existed. He hired and fired men and woman as the business dictated, trying to make sure the people whose paths he crossed remembered him if not with affection then at least without malice. But this man, this one man, who he'd hurt, endangered, betrayed in the most spectacular manner, could still shatter him with a single word, a single sound, and he knew he would give it all up - everything - if he only asked. "Tell me what to do. I'll do anything for you. Tell me." John closed his eyes, screwed them shut, and Michael swore he saw a tear escape. Reaching out one fingertip he touched it to the side of John's nose and felt the wetness. "You left me." It wasn't an accusation; it couldn't be because it was true. But Michael had never thought, had never guessed how deeply hurt John had been by it. "You didn't want me around, John. How could you have done? After what I did…." "What you did brought us to where we are now." "It couldn't carry on, you know that." "Why?" Why? "It wasn't real, how could it have been?" John stared at him and Michael pulled back, sitting up. "Don't, John. Please don't…." John followed him up, turned to fold his legs under him, the covers falling away from him, strong muscles rippling as he moved. He'd kept in shape, oh boy had he kept in shape. "That night… the nights that followed, before Bester…. They were the best of my life." "Oh, no…." Michael threw off the sheets and dropping his feet to the floor, climbed out of bed. "No. No no no." He shook his head, emphatically backing up that one word. "You married Delenn." "That had never mattered, you knew that. Politics, universal karma… I thought you understood. She understood. But you left me. I couldn't be alone. You've no idea… the nightmares wouldn't go away, the constant confusion, the illness…. I had to have someone close or I'd have lost it, spaced myself years ago. So many people relied on me, looked to me." Michael heard the familiar frustration where in most men pride would have been. "I couldn't let them down." He felt tears behind his own eyes but was powerless to stop them. "Please, John… don't tell me I've lost so long, so many years…." "You married Lise." John shook his head. "I thought it was over, Mike, a long time ago." But it wasn't, it shouldn't have been, didn't have to have been, and he saw that now. Kneeling up on the corner of the bed, naked, hands at his sides, Michael stared at the man who used to be his lover. "I'll do anything," he repeated. "All you have to do it ask. All you've ever had to do was ask." "Stay with me." They were the very last words Michael had expected to hear. "I came here to get you back, not in any real way but to try and fix the memories in my head, to try and blot out hell with what felt like heaven. I didn't think you'd come and if you did… I never thought we'd wind up back in bed. But it's still between us, isn't it? It always will be. So much history, so much pain… yet still you're the only one who knows, the only one who looks at me and still sees the man you all pulled out of that nightmare on Mars." "Doesn't that just make it unbearable to look at me?" "No. People have forgotten. But I haven't, I can't, I never will. I need someone who remembers, I need someone who understands that it hasn't gone away, that I will never, never be the same person I was because of what I went through. You know that, you look at me and I can see you re-assessing me each time, painting a new picture. You let me change when no one else can. I'm someone else now, under all this. I want to be that someone else for the time I have left." "You're… you're abdicating." John laughed softly. "I'm the president, Michael, not the king. I'll resign, hand over to someone else. I want to see the universe, travel for a while, slum it in cargo ships, hitch rides on transports you wouldn't step aboard without an armoury and steel pants. I want to live before I die, free from threat, or as free as I'll ever get. And I want you with me. I've always wanted you with me." Michael wanted to laugh. "What about… Delenn? David?" "Delenn knows. David… will understand one day." He stared at him, "You're serious," and watched John climb out of bed, move to stand behind him. Michael turned, his head lifted. "Yes or no." In that moment he saw John as he once was, brown hair, sapphire eyes dancing with mischief, dancing in Michael's arms on a table in one of the late-night bars in Grey Sector. "Yes." ~ John was asleep when Michael woke. He showered, dressed, and went for a walk through the busy morning crowd in the Zocalo. Last night had been like a dream, more accurately a dream come true; John speaking the words he'd always wanted to hear. There were arrangements he'd need to make, although he knew he wouldn't be going back to Mars from here - he'd have to make them long-distance. He could only hope that after so long, Liz would understand. She'd always seemed to when it came to John Sheridan. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he looked up, through a couple of the stalls to see a familiar face. A man in a black robe was smiling at him, eyes big and dark, bald head shining under the harsh market place lights. It took him a moment, but he had a good memory for faces and names. Elric. A technomage. What was it he'd just been thinking? Like a dream come true…. Which bits of last night had been real? Had any of it? Almost running, he took off back to his quarters. John was in the bedroom, his back to Michael, folding clothes into a black holdall. He opened his mouth but couldn't form words, or more he didn't know which words to form. John turned, formal blue shirt reflecting grey eyes in the dim light. "Morning, Mike." "You're here," he managed eventually. So that part of it hadn't been a dream, and that at least was something wonderful. John frowned. "Shouldn't I be?" "No. I mean… yes. Definitely." "Is everything okay?" John straightened. "I mean… if you're regretting anything…." Blue shirt, not formal. Open at the neck, hanging loose out over black denim. "It's okay if you've changed your mind." Michael shook his head, crossed the room and took John's face between his hands, kissing him. "I haven't." John let out a soft breath. "So what do you say? Breakfast, coffee, a couple of calls, then we see what transports are due to leave in the next twelve hours?" "Don't hang around do you?" "You know me, when I put my mind to something. Are you sure you're okay, Mike?" "Yeah. Just… I saw…. something, someone, and it made me think...." "Who?" Anger flashed in John's voice. "Galen?" "No. Elric. Only now… I think he was here for you, John. Returning your dreams to you." John smiled. "It's about bloody time, don't you think?" |