Title: REASSIGNED
Author: Nightcrawler
Fandom: Babylon 5
Rating: R
Warning: Slash implied, nothing explicit.
Summary: Sinclair tells Catherine their
marriage is off and he's been reassigned.
Pairings: Sinclair/Catherine, Sinclair/Garibaldi
Archive: Yes
Warnings: M/M relationship implied
Disclaimer: The characters on Babylon 5 belong to the Great Maker, JMS. I'm just
borrowing them and not making any money.
No copywrite infringement is meant.
He packed quickly and efficiently. One spare uniform folded with stiff
military efficiency, surrounded by underwear, socks, and various
toiletries. Hidden under the uniform lay a book of poetry.
On top of everything he gently placed a simple red yo-yo.
Not a lot to pack.
He stared at the meager possessions he had decided were essential. A psychiatrist would
have a field day with him. Mike would say... No, don't think about Mike. Not now. He
looked around his quarters once more, then picked up the framed picture of Catherine
Sakai. He stared hard at it as a dozen different thoughts flitted through his mind. With a
long sigh of regret, he finally laid the picture back down. That part of his life was
over. She would be here soon. How would he explain?
The door chimed then and he called "Enter." It was Catherine. Lovely as always. She
stared at his traveling bag on the bed.
"Jeff?" she asked with trepidation, but her eyes already admitting defeat, almost as if she
knew what he was about to say.
"Catherine, come here," he said softly, opening his arms as she flew into them.
"Jeff, I don't understand. Where do you think you're going? You can't go anywhere
now!"
Jeffrey Sinclair smiled grimly over her shoulder. If only that were true. He pushed back
away from her so he could see her face. There were tears in her eyes. One started to
slide down her cheek. He gently knuckled it away. "I don't know how to tell you this,
but - "
She interrupted him then and finished his sentence. "You're leaving and the wedding is
off?" she asked dully, with just a glint of anger starting to show in her eyes.
Sinclair steeled himself for the coming storm. "I'm being reassigned,"
he finally admitted.
Catherine gasped in shock. "What? Why? How dare they!" she sputtered
He smiled at her indignation. A weak smile, but better than none. "I can't tell you any
more except that I won't be back and I can't bring you with me. I have an opportunity to really make a difference, but I have to do it alone."
"Jeffrey, I don't understand! What are you talking about?" Her voice was rising rapidly
and she was starting to lose that magnificent control.
"I can't marry you, Catherine. I won't marry you. You and me are over. You can't follow
me. I can't tell you any more, You understand - security reasons. I may have said too
much as it is."
Catherine stepped back from him, finally comprehending what was happening. They
were breaking up again. Again! Rage filled her. How dare he do this to her again.
"May have said too much?" she snarled, "You son of a bitch!" She reached out to try
and slap him, but he grabbed her wrist.
"Calm down! Do you think I wanted it like this?" his dark brown eyes pleaded
with her to understand.
She saw the truth in his eyes and turned away. After a moment she walked over to a
chair and sat. She willed herself to be calm, then wiped the tears from her face and
looked over at him and asked, "It's Michael, isn't it?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"It's all right. You can tell me the truth. I can take it. I've known for a long time."
Jeff put up his hands, trying to motion her to stop. This was one conversation he did not
want to have. She ignored him.
"Do you know why I left you the last time? Really left you?" She asked as she watched
Jeff pour two glasses of whiskey. "It was Michael." she explained.
"You think I don't know?" she continued bitterly. She took the glass from him and
swallowed the harsh liquid, enjoying the trail of liquid fire down her throat. "I
didn't know, not for a long time.
Not till that night he made us dinner. You'd been injured and he had stopped by and
insisted on cooking. Remember?"
Jeff had turned away from Catherine, not wanting her to be able to read his face. His
hand clinched the edge of the counter that ran along side the sink. Remember? There
was nothing about Michael he would ever forget. Every moment together seemed to be
etched into his memory forever. Waves of unimaginable pain started to wash over him
then. Mike. Mike, who trusted him so much. Mike, who he was about to
abandon.
"The dinner was really good. Something Italian, I can't remember now. What I do
remember is what happened when I left you two to do the clean up."
"Catherine!" Jeff thundered, happy to holler at someone, to vent a little of the anger
building inside him. "Nothing happened! This is ridiculous!"
"I was watching you from the kitchen and it was like looking at a stranger. I didn't know
you. For once, you completely let down your guard. Do you know how different your eyes looked then? So open, so relaxed. Damn it, so filled with trust and love. I tried to think of one time when we had been together when you had looked like that with me and I couldn't. Not even during sex, Jeff! I knew then, I knew I didn't stand a chance."
"So you cut your loses and left. I'm sorry Catherine. You'll need to do that again. My
assignment -"
"This isn't about your assignment. Garibaldi is down in Sick Bay in a coma and you
expect me to believe you're just going to leave the station? Even you couldn't be that cruel."
"See, you're instinct to run was right. I am a cold-hearted bastard."
Neither of them said anything for a moment as the significance of his words sank
in. Then Jeff continued. She had a right to the truth. Some of it.
"You're right about Mike. I love him." He paused for a moment, then added in a harsh
whisper, "If he survives, this will kill him."
"Then don't go!"
"I don't have a choice!" he bit out angrily.
"We all have choices, Jeff."
"You're right, of course. I made mine. Like I said, Catherine, I'm a cold-hearted
bastard."
She wouldn't answer him and stood to leave. She was almost to the door when she turned
and asked, "How is he? Really?"
His hands balled up into fists at his side as he grimly answered, "Franklin doesn't expect
him to make it."
"I'm sorry, Jeff." she came back to him then and took his hands in hers.
Jeff nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Too close, she was too close. He
didn't want her to feel his agony. "Catherine, I have to have your word you won't repeat
anything I have said here about my reassignment until it's been officially announced and
my replacement is on board."
"Of course." she agreed.
He stood there a moment looking into her eyes and finally brought one hand to his lips,
kissing it gently.
"Thank you," he whispered harshly, swallowing that damn lump again.
"When are you actually leaving?"
"I'm supposed to be at the docking bay now." he smiled with eyes
so sad Catherine thought she would cry herself. She walked over to bag and started to
close it for him when she saw the yo-yo.
"What's this?' she asked curiously.
"Just a toy Michael gave me."
She finished closing the bag, "If you ever need me -"
"I know Catherine. I'm sorry. I want you to know that even if you
can't share my life now, you have made a big dent in it. I'll never
forget you. You taught me a lot." He wrapped his arms around her,
holding her close, wishing tomorrow wasn't coming so fast.
.
She kissed him then and stepped away, "Good Bye, Jeff." she said
firmly, more to herself than him, and left.
He looked at the closed door and sighed. Then he walked over to the
suitcase and opened it up, taking out the yo-yo. He had told Catherine Mike had given it
to him as a toy. In reality, he had given it to him as a weapon. It looked innocuous but if it was thrust out with enough force, the shiny metal that rimmed the yo-yo could kill if you hit someone in the right spot. Mike always said when you're walking into an unknown situation, you needed an ace up your sleeve. The yo-yo was his ace.
He slipped the loop for the yo-yo string around his finger and snapped his wrist, flipping
the yo-yo down. Up and down. Over and over. It never changed. Like life and
death. Over and over. Finally the pattern faltered, and the yo-yo stilled. Like Mike?
He wrapped the cord around the yo-yo carefully, almost reverently.
Mike had taught him more than anyone. He would not forget.
The End
Author: Nightcrawler
Fandom: Babylon 5
Rating: R
Warning: Slash implied, nothing explicit.
Summary: Sinclair tells Catherine their
marriage is off and he's been reassigned.
Pairings: Sinclair/Catherine, Sinclair/Garibaldi
Archive: Yes
Warnings: M/M relationship implied
Disclaimer: The characters on Babylon 5 belong to the Great Maker, JMS. I'm just
borrowing them and not making any money.
No copywrite infringement is meant.
He packed quickly and efficiently. One spare uniform folded with stiff
military efficiency, surrounded by underwear, socks, and various
toiletries. Hidden under the uniform lay a book of poetry.
On top of everything he gently placed a simple red yo-yo.
Not a lot to pack.
He stared at the meager possessions he had decided were essential. A psychiatrist would
have a field day with him. Mike would say... No, don't think about Mike. Not now. He
looked around his quarters once more, then picked up the framed picture of Catherine
Sakai. He stared hard at it as a dozen different thoughts flitted through his mind. With a
long sigh of regret, he finally laid the picture back down. That part of his life was
over. She would be here soon. How would he explain?
The door chimed then and he called "Enter." It was Catherine. Lovely as always. She
stared at his traveling bag on the bed.
"Jeff?" she asked with trepidation, but her eyes already admitting defeat, almost as if she
knew what he was about to say.
"Catherine, come here," he said softly, opening his arms as she flew into them.
"Jeff, I don't understand. Where do you think you're going? You can't go anywhere
now!"
Jeffrey Sinclair smiled grimly over her shoulder. If only that were true. He pushed back
away from her so he could see her face. There were tears in her eyes. One started to
slide down her cheek. He gently knuckled it away. "I don't know how to tell you this,
but - "
She interrupted him then and finished his sentence. "You're leaving and the wedding is
off?" she asked dully, with just a glint of anger starting to show in her eyes.
Sinclair steeled himself for the coming storm. "I'm being reassigned,"
he finally admitted.
Catherine gasped in shock. "What? Why? How dare they!" she sputtered
He smiled at her indignation. A weak smile, but better than none. "I can't tell you any
more except that I won't be back and I can't bring you with me. I have an opportunity to really make a difference, but I have to do it alone."
"Jeffrey, I don't understand! What are you talking about?" Her voice was rising rapidly
and she was starting to lose that magnificent control.
"I can't marry you, Catherine. I won't marry you. You and me are over. You can't follow
me. I can't tell you any more, You understand - security reasons. I may have said too
much as it is."
Catherine stepped back from him, finally comprehending what was happening. They
were breaking up again. Again! Rage filled her. How dare he do this to her again.
"May have said too much?" she snarled, "You son of a bitch!" She reached out to try
and slap him, but he grabbed her wrist.
"Calm down! Do you think I wanted it like this?" his dark brown eyes pleaded
with her to understand.
She saw the truth in his eyes and turned away. After a moment she walked over to a
chair and sat. She willed herself to be calm, then wiped the tears from her face and
looked over at him and asked, "It's Michael, isn't it?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"It's all right. You can tell me the truth. I can take it. I've known for a long time."
Jeff put up his hands, trying to motion her to stop. This was one conversation he did not
want to have. She ignored him.
"Do you know why I left you the last time? Really left you?" She asked as she watched
Jeff pour two glasses of whiskey. "It was Michael." she explained.
"You think I don't know?" she continued bitterly. She took the glass from him and
swallowed the harsh liquid, enjoying the trail of liquid fire down her throat. "I
didn't know, not for a long time.
Not till that night he made us dinner. You'd been injured and he had stopped by and
insisted on cooking. Remember?"
Jeff had turned away from Catherine, not wanting her to be able to read his face. His
hand clinched the edge of the counter that ran along side the sink. Remember? There
was nothing about Michael he would ever forget. Every moment together seemed to be
etched into his memory forever. Waves of unimaginable pain started to wash over him
then. Mike. Mike, who trusted him so much. Mike, who he was about to
abandon.
"The dinner was really good. Something Italian, I can't remember now. What I do
remember is what happened when I left you two to do the clean up."
"Catherine!" Jeff thundered, happy to holler at someone, to vent a little of the anger
building inside him. "Nothing happened! This is ridiculous!"
"I was watching you from the kitchen and it was like looking at a stranger. I didn't know
you. For once, you completely let down your guard. Do you know how different your eyes looked then? So open, so relaxed. Damn it, so filled with trust and love. I tried to think of one time when we had been together when you had looked like that with me and I couldn't. Not even during sex, Jeff! I knew then, I knew I didn't stand a chance."
"So you cut your loses and left. I'm sorry Catherine. You'll need to do that again. My
assignment -"
"This isn't about your assignment. Garibaldi is down in Sick Bay in a coma and you
expect me to believe you're just going to leave the station? Even you couldn't be that cruel."
"See, you're instinct to run was right. I am a cold-hearted bastard."
Neither of them said anything for a moment as the significance of his words sank
in. Then Jeff continued. She had a right to the truth. Some of it.
"You're right about Mike. I love him." He paused for a moment, then added in a harsh
whisper, "If he survives, this will kill him."
"Then don't go!"
"I don't have a choice!" he bit out angrily.
"We all have choices, Jeff."
"You're right, of course. I made mine. Like I said, Catherine, I'm a cold-hearted
bastard."
She wouldn't answer him and stood to leave. She was almost to the door when she turned
and asked, "How is he? Really?"
His hands balled up into fists at his side as he grimly answered, "Franklin doesn't expect
him to make it."
"I'm sorry, Jeff." she came back to him then and took his hands in hers.
Jeff nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Too close, she was too close. He
didn't want her to feel his agony. "Catherine, I have to have your word you won't repeat
anything I have said here about my reassignment until it's been officially announced and
my replacement is on board."
"Of course." she agreed.
He stood there a moment looking into her eyes and finally brought one hand to his lips,
kissing it gently.
"Thank you," he whispered harshly, swallowing that damn lump again.
"When are you actually leaving?"
"I'm supposed to be at the docking bay now." he smiled with eyes
so sad Catherine thought she would cry herself. She walked over to bag and started to
close it for him when she saw the yo-yo.
"What's this?' she asked curiously.
"Just a toy Michael gave me."
She finished closing the bag, "If you ever need me -"
"I know Catherine. I'm sorry. I want you to know that even if you
can't share my life now, you have made a big dent in it. I'll never
forget you. You taught me a lot." He wrapped his arms around her,
holding her close, wishing tomorrow wasn't coming so fast.
.
She kissed him then and stepped away, "Good Bye, Jeff." she said
firmly, more to herself than him, and left.
He looked at the closed door and sighed. Then he walked over to the
suitcase and opened it up, taking out the yo-yo. He had told Catherine Mike had given it
to him as a toy. In reality, he had given it to him as a weapon. It looked innocuous but if it was thrust out with enough force, the shiny metal that rimmed the yo-yo could kill if you hit someone in the right spot. Mike always said when you're walking into an unknown situation, you needed an ace up your sleeve. The yo-yo was his ace.
He slipped the loop for the yo-yo string around his finger and snapped his wrist, flipping
the yo-yo down. Up and down. Over and over. It never changed. Like life and
death. Over and over. Finally the pattern faltered, and the yo-yo stilled. Like Mike?
He wrapped the cord around the yo-yo carefully, almost reverently.
Mike had taught him more than anyone. He would not forget.
The End