Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'. It's very sad. Author's Notes: Hi. This is one of my first fics ever posted. It's only gotten 1 review. My self-esteem is very low. Now, I'm not going to say that I'll stop writing if I don't get reviews, first because I hate it when people do that, and second because if I don't write this it will just go around in my head over and over until it is all I can think and curl up into a little ball, rocking back and forth, bringing misery to all who knew because I can't recognize them and keep calling them "Franklin" or "Ivanova". So, please review if you read this and like it. Or even if you don't like it. Right now, even flames would be welcome.

The Two watched her through the mass. She was talking, laughing, to the one she thought she loved. It was not that she didn't love him, she very well might, but the Two understood that no one that young could truly be sure of loving anything, despite how well they all deluded themselves. They spoke of romance, trust, and everlasting love. They did not understand. Romance is but a game, trust only a lie, and, well, nothing lasts forever.

The sun moved and cast shadows over the Two's identical faces.

"It is almost time", one of them thought.

"It has been almost time for a very long while now", the other one responded.

They had stopped communicating with each other through speech so long ago that neither remembered that time before time, and they both had very long memories. Though they would never admit it, they both regretted this. They had lost such history, but they did remember that it had been happy then. Happiness was something they wished they could remember.

"Yes. But the child will come soon. Then she will be One again."

"Yes. Then she will be ready."

"Yes. Then she will have the most to lose."

Their words were conveyed with as little emotion as possible. After so many hundreds of thousands of millennia of practice, there was very little emotion. It was necessary. Yes, the Two were very close, knowing almost all each other's thoughts, except the inner ones kept most hidden, for had they not lived every one of their countless lifetimes together? But they were still enemies, and there were some secrets that could not afford to be given in the name of kinship.

"Bel, Aida!"

The Two looked over their shoulder and up at the sound of their given names into the face of a woman. She smiled.

"Come on, we have to get packed. Our flight leaves in a few hours!"

At the sight of the Two's faces, unmoving, the woman's smile wavered, but only for a moment. She was almost used to this response after five years.

"Come on", she encouraged, holding out a hand to each of them. "We can get something to eat when we get back to the hotel."

The Two just stared. Finally, as one, they nodded. They each stepped to a side of the woman, taking a hand of the one who insisted they call her Mother. But it was not to be worried over. They would soon be free of her, free to perform their task, and set another rotation of the Ring into motion, begin another Story, start another Age of History.

Three walked into the crowd and became lost to any that might have put it into their mind to find them. But none had. They were but a human mother, and two daughters, on Minbar for their first vacation in a very long time. The only thing striking was the extent of the indistinguishableness of the girls. Identical brown hair framed identical peach faces; within were set identical brown eyes, identical small noses, identical round mouths and high cheekbones. They possessed identical height and identical build; both rather small even for their age. And also if one took the bother to look, which no one did, they would see that while the mother was walking rather quickly, the children had no trouble keeping up, and not only that, the sisters were walking completely in step with each other. They walked across the open area toward a large, pleasant looking building, which was in fact the hotel, which they happened to be staying at.

On the other side, almost completely hidden from the strange family's view across the way, were a woman and a man walking pleasantly through the busy crowd. It was not difficult; the people seemed to part away for the couple. This was not because of the man's commanding presence, nor his stern but friendly smile. It was not because of the pleasant aura that radiated from the woman, nor the fact that she was pregnant. It was because of whom they were, President John Starkiller Sheriden, and Entil'zha Delenn; and of what they had done, which is an entirely different story, one that belongs in a different Age of History, an Age soon to be past.

The twin's mother stopped at the hotel's door, letting go of the child on her right hand in order to fetch her key card. As she did this, the said child turned and looked over her shoulder at the woman known as Entil'zha. And she smiled. It was not smile she normally wore, for it showed her thoughts and very rarely did she indulge in such things. It showed that she wanted to take one last look at her kin, her companion of the soul, her adversary, her friend, her master, her prey. The child on the left felt these thought, turned to look at her sister and frowned.

Their mother finished unlocking the door and turned to take back her daughter's hand and stopped, seeing her turned away. She then looked at her other daughter, who still faced the door, and felt a flicker of uneasiness run through her. One child turned away, the other forward. They never did that, they always moved together. She had come to expect it.

She opened her lips to say the name of the child on her right, and then stopped. At that moment, the girl turned back, nodded to her mother, and the all began forward. The mother was glad; she had not known what to call her. In truth, even she could not tell them apart.

"That was foolish." Thought the daughter on the left, the one who had frowned.

"I just wanted to look at her." Thought the other.

"You will see much of her soon enough. Be patient. We do not want to make this one suspicious."

"It does not matter. We are almost rid of her."

"Almost. But plans can die in an instant."

The right child, who was called Aida in this life, let a drop of smugness into her mental words.

"Not this instant."