Chapter 2 More questions

Thanks for those showing interest in this little thing. To establish something, in the Babylon 5 timeline this would go in Season 2 after In the Shadow of Z'ha'dum but before Confessions and Lamentations (for obvious reasons which will be shown in this chapter). As you all know, I have no rights over either show and I am not profiting in any way, shape or form from this.

Ambassador Londo Mollari's quarters

Londo had woken up that morning feeling irritated. He was aware that a lot of those who professed to know him would have declared that was his usual state of mind. Since the start of the war with Narn, Londo had actually started to agree with them. Irritation was really becoming part of his daily routine. It was strange, really. His people were once more set up on the road to victory and a grand destiny and Londo had wanted that. Moreover, it had been Londo himself who had facilitated it, something that he had also longed for. Londo's own influence back home was growing, he was now in high favour at the court and with the new emperor – yet another of his wishes coming true. And yet, despite all that, all Londo could feel at times was an impeding sense of doom. Too bad that when Mr Morden had very seriously asked that first time What do you want? Londo had not thought of analysing what the consequences of his desires could be. Or maybe he had been fully aware of the consequences and had wanted all those things anyway. Londo was not too sure right then.

Speaking of Mr Morden, the latter was slowly becoming yet another annoyance on Londo's long list of irritations great and small. True, he was still useful – while the war with Narn went on he and his allies could still help – and, if Londo was to be honest the man scared him a bit. And that was the reason why Londo had not turned down Morden's unannounced visit at the start of a day that was already teeming with appointments.

"I am sorry I cannot be with you too long, though," Londo had pointed out anyway. "I have an appointment in half an hour. Some pesky Earth journalist or something of that kind. I would not have agreed to yet another interview, but Vir Cotto, my attaché is apparently fascinated by the breed."

"Your attaché is fascinated by humans?" Morden inquired with polite interest.

"No, Mr Morden," Londo corrected. "By journalists. Now what can I do for you?"

Londo had noticed from the start that Morden looked slightly on edge himself. It was a look the Centauri would have never associated with the mysterious human. Perhaps it had to do with Captain Sheridan. Londo had heard the Captain had had Morden under arrest for some reason or another. Whatever it was, it must have boiled over somehow. After all, Morden was still free and still on the station, although he seemed to be keeping a low profile as far as Captain Sheridan was concerned.

"I'll be direct, Ambassador," Morden began. "There is something on this station that might be very tempting to you and that might very well be offered to you – if it hasn't been offered already. I'm talking about a piece of jewellery - a talisman of unknown origins. Are you familiar with what I'm talking about?"

Londo tilted his head.

"Should I be?" he replied vaguely.

"No," Mr Morden replied categorically. "You shouldn't. If anyone approaches you to offer you such a thing, Ambassador, you're to say no, regardless of what they claim it can supposedly grant you."

Londo raised his eyebrows. So far Morden had presented himself as completely amiable and eager to comply with any of Londo's demands. He had, at the same time, made no demands for himself. And yet here he was literally ordering Londo. It made Mollari completely intrigued and curious.

"Oh?" he asked. "And tell me, Mr Morden, why should I listen to this little demand of yours?"

Morden's eyes glinted dangerously. It was at times like these that Londo realised that despite the other's polite and almost servile attitude, Morden made him uncomfortable.

"Because I say so," Morden stated coldly. "Because my associates say so. Simply put, Ambassador, that talisman has certain…ties, shall we call them. My associates do not want anyone even remotely involved with them to have anything to do with that object."

Londo was about to protest. He was not really interested in whatever Morden was talking about. He had not been offered any talisman yet and so he could not tell whether he would have wanted to accept or not. Nonetheless, Morden was pressuring him, telling him what he should and should not accept. And Londo was a Centauri. He did not respond well to that kind of intimidation. He was about to protest when Vir Cotto walked in, followed by a tall human who stopped by the door uncertainly when he noticed Londo was already entertaining company.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ambassador, I didn't know you were not alone," Vir began sounding flustered. "But, you see, Mr Parks does have an appointment and…and as I did not know Mr Morden was still here I invited Mr Parks in."

Londo huffed impatiently. Vir was, to put it crudely, protesting too much. He always got flustered and started rambling on and on when he was trying to be even a little bit dishonest. In truth, Vir had known very well that Morden was still with Londo. As a matter of fact, his decision to let Mr Parks in had been based on the fact that he wanted Mr Morden out. It was no secret that Vir felt an almost visceral hatred for Morden – which was rather strange as, until recently, Londo had thought hatred was simply not in Vir Cotto's genes.

One thing, though, had been true in Vir's tirade. The tall young man did have an appointment with Londo. The appointment had been set up by Vir, most likely because the diplomatic attaché was still working on learning how to say no to unreasonable requests. Or maybe Vir was trying to cut the time Londo spend with Morden or with Refa, discussing the war with Narn. Again, it was no secret that Vir thought Londo was on a direct route to perdition. It was no secret that Londo thought that about himself as well.

"That is all right, Vir," Londo said, effectively interrupting his attaché. "Mr Morden has just warned me against purchasing some sort of talisman as he called it and now he was just leaving. Right, Mr Morden?"

Londo noticed that the newcomer's eyebrows went up at the mention of a talisman. For an instant Londo took it as a warning. Then, he dismissed the thought just as quickly. No doubt the Earther was curious and nothing more. Londo had heard that Earthers considered anything "alien" as outrageously bizarre. No doubt somebody discussing a talisman seriously with an ambassador would be considered just as unusual. At any rate, Morden had given no hint that he recognised the guest – and Londo had decided that was a good enough sign to pay attention to.

"Yes, I was just leaving, Ambassador," Morden said quickly. "Please take my warnings under consideration. You know my associates and I only wish for your people's well-being."

Vir mumbled something not too flattering that implied a direct correlation between the Centauri's well-being and Mr Morden being sent to a very unpleasant place. Londo decided he would reprimand his attaché for his lack of diplomacy when they were not having company. Morden turned to leave. As he headed towards the door he passed Sam and could not help casting him a curious, assessing look. Sam returned the look with a puzzled one of his own, then turned to Londo.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything, Ambassador," he said quickly. "Your diplomatic aide said it was all right to come in."

Londo waved the apology aside. In truth, he felt slightly depressed by Morden's visit and the subsequent conversation and longed for some distraction.

"That is all right, Mr Parks," he said. "Vir was right, you did have an appointment."

"And Mr…Morden?" Sam asked curiously.

"He is different," Londo said curtly.

"Oh, I see," Sam said quickly. "I'm sorry if I inadvertently touched upon some delicate political matter. That's not why I am here."

Londo raised his eyebrows.

"Oh no?" he asked shrewdly. "The other reporter was only bent on finding out as many delicate political matters as possible. Correct me if I am wrong, Mr Parks, but I had the impression that your people do like a juicy scandal sprinkled with a touch of political intrigue. Not that I blame them. We Centauri are just the same. You are among equals, as we say, Mr Parks so you should make yourself comfortable. Perhaps I should have Vir get you some brivari?"

"No thank you," Sam refused. "And please – call me Sam. Regarding Mr Morden – I did not know you had that close dealings with Earth."

Sam could feel that somehow Morden was a viable lead. He had mentioned something about a talisman. He had come to warn Londo against getting it. Sam had no idea how or what right the unknown Morden had to impose his will on a foreign ambassador. All he knew was that the talisman could be exactly what him and Dean had come looking for. And, if it really was an object that offered great power and influence, he had heard a thing or two about Londo Mollari to know why someone would think selling such an object to the Centauri would be a sure thing.

Londo's face darkened at the mention of his relationship with Morden. Of course, the young man in front of him could have absolutely no idea what that actually was – and even if he had known, he would still not understand what had prompted Londo to accept Morden's help. But Londo was tired of keeping his guard up. He could pretend all day that he had got what he wanted. The truth still remained that he sometimes found himself entangled in a web that could never be broken. And he could not help wondering with almost detached curiosity if his visitor had any idea how that felt.

"I wish my dealings with Morden to remain off the record," he said firmly.

"Certainly," Sam said quickly. "You have my word."

Londo did not seem too impressed.

"You have this look about you, Mr Parks," he began, not addressing the young man by his first name as the other had politely requested. "You know, that eager to do the right thing against all costs look. You might be surprised to hear that I understand something about that. All my life I've spent trying to do what is right and what is best. But what I am sure you are too young to understand is that sometimes doing what you think is right can lead you on a very dark road."

Sam did not say anything. He wondered what Londo was referring to. There were rumours about him. Many on Earth had begun by ridiculing him but ever since the Centauri war with Narn Londo Mollari's name was becoming more and more influential. Sam had heard that some were frightened of him, as if the Centauri had turned into an unstable element, someone bent on doing things his way that it made him almost fanatical. And with that Sam was very familiar.

It was ironic, really, but Sam understood more than Londo would ever know about thinking you were doing the right thing and dark roads. He almost told Londo, but he still managed to stop himself in time. To Londo Mollari he was Sam Parks, he reminded himself, aspiring documentary writer. Young Sam Parks had no way of knowing anything of what Londo was saying. Sam Winchester, though, knew more than enough. As a matter of fact, Sam Winchester could have perhaps given even Ambassador Londo Mollari a few lessons about dark roads and doing things his way. Maybe it was not too late for Londo to turn back from whatever path he had taken.

It was strange and Dean was surely going to laugh at Sam if he ever mentioned it to his brother, but Sam had immediately felt some sort of connection with the Centauri Ambassador. It was hard to explain, but there was something in Londo's mannerism that spoke about how in over his head he was and how he was already contemplating his own dark destiny. Sam knew the look of one who was about to break the world quite well.

Sam tried firmly to put such thoughts away from his mind. He knew they could lead him on a dangerous road and he could not afford revisiting old memories at the moment. Dean would not have it if he had the Wall in his mind broken in the Centauri Ambassador's quarters. Actually, it was safe to say Dean would not have it if he had the Wall broken period, regardless of where he was when he did that.

Yet Sam knew he could use one thing from his line of reasoning – wacky as it was. Londo Mollari was on a dangerous road – for whatever reason. He wanted something and somehow he seemed to be depending on the mysterious Morden for that something. While the interaction Sam had witnessed between Mollari and Londo had been brief, it had been enough to tell Sam that Morden somehow had the Centauri Ambassador in his sway. There was also the reaction that Londo's attaché had to Morden. Sam had heard the underlying tension in Vir's voice when he had found Morden with his employer. He had also heard loud and clear the until then so polite Vir Cotto wishing Mr Morden a speedy journey to hell. That did not leave much room for interpretation.

And, if Londo really was in Mr Morden's clutches and if Mr Morden had warned him against accepting the talisman – whatever that was but Sam was willing to bet it was what Cas had sent them to look for – Londo would most likely obey – for now at least. In the meantime, Sam only had to find out as much about Londo as he could. If the Centauri really was a likely candidate for that talisman, then Sam would perhaps find out what else that talisman could do apart from supposedly being a weapon against an Archangel. And that would narrow things down when it came to finding it.

"So, Ambassador," he began cheerfully. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

Ambassador Delenn's quarters

Dean was allowed to see the Minbari Ambassador as soon as he arrived. Her diplomatic attaché had let him in and then had left the two alone, presumably going to take care of his own duties. Dean was sort of glad he had one Minbari the less to deal with, although he secretly regretted not sending Sam to do this interview. He somehow thought he would have had an easier time with the Centauri Ambassador. At least the Centauri had never unleashed their furry on Earth as the Minbari had, eleven years before.

Dean, like most Hunters, had never been one to care much about political winds and daily events in the world at large. Knowing as he did the evils with which both humans and aliens shared the universe without even being aware of it put a lot of things into perspective. Hunters generally viewed political conflicts differently, taking them into account only as far as they affected the job. Wars and revolutions were a source of vengeful spirits and restless ghosts and bloodthirsty monsters and Hunters usually got involved in them after they had already ended. That was when their job truly began – like some sort of supernatural damage control. None of them got involved actively in conflicts while they were still taking place. Nor did they feel much of an inclination to do so.

The Minbari-Earth war eleven years before had been an entirely different matter. Dean knew a lot of Hunters who had enrolled in the war, claiming that was the greater threat at the time. Dean knew, in fact, that if his father had not been effectively on the run, he would have enrolled too. Dean could not blame him. He had felt inclined to do so himself.

Even if most Hunters had not been actively involved in the war, they had still been strongly opinionated about it. Dean still remembered how, during those three years, talk in covert Hunter establishment was the same as talk everywhere on Earth. Few discussed monsters and demons then as often as they discussed Minbari. Many of them had thought anyway that the Minbari were not so far from monsters or demons themselves. And those that voiced this opinion out loud were not contradicted.

Well, that was not exactly true. Sam had contradicted them. Dean could clearly remember one evening in a bar when they had met a few Hunters – many of them good friends with Dad and Bobby. They had been talking about the Minbari and someone had mentioned how the entire reason behind the war was of the death of a Minbari leader by a human. It was the general consensus that the idea of unleashing vengeance on an entire species for the action of just one representative was absurd. Such personal vendettas were wrong. And that was when Sam had stepped in.

So far, Sam had said little. Whether because he had not wanted to tarnish his brother and father's reputation by voicing views he knew would be frowned upon, or simply because he had thought there was no point in trying to convince the narrow-minded, Dean still did not remember. Perhaps, judging from how Sam had been at the time, resentful and already planning his escape to college, the second reason was more likely. But whatever had held him back could apparently do so no longer. When he heard the opinion about how one could not punish an entire species for a personal vendetta, Sam had asked innocently if there was actually anyone at that table who was not doing that at the moment. Weren't they going after the supernatural because they wanted revenge for some particular reason? Were they, in the ultimate scheme of things, so different from the Minbari? And did they, with all they had done, have any right to judge how the Minbari grieved and avenged their wrongs?

Dean could still remember vividly the icy silence that had at the table after Sam's words. Sam had started being persona non grata with many Hunters from then on. Dad had not spoken to Sam for two whole weeks after the incident and this time Dean had joined him.

Sam had never discussed that evening with Dean. After all that had happened, Dean wondered if his brother even remembered it. From what Sam had hinted the day before, he had found others in college who had apparently shared his views. Still, Dean had to wonder what Sam thought of his previous opinions now. He knew his brother's idealism had been greatly tempered in recent years. But then again, so had Dean's own brand of self-righteousness. He still felt uncomfortable around the Minbari, but there was nothing of the previous intolerance. He was willing to have a discussion with their ambassador to Babylon 5, if that helped to move things forward. At any rate, Dean did not even know what part, if any, Ambassador Delenn had had in the war. Nor was he going to ask. That would only alienate her.

There was also the fact that many wondered whether the ambassador was really Minbari right now – and that was another piece of news that people had been discussing so much that Dean found it hard to ignore it. The ambassador had altered her appearance – how Dean had no idea and he was not really interested in whatever scientific theories others had - that was more in Sam's line than his – in order to look more human. She had claimed it had been a gesture good-will and an apology of some kind. Dean had no idea how that went and he was not really sure he bought it anyway. But it made Dean interested. Whatever reason Delenn might have had for doing that – personal, political, or whatever – her actions told Dean she was the type to go to great lengths to get what she wanted. Which made Dean wonder what else she would be willing to try if it was advantageous for her cause. More to the point, would she be willing to acquire an obscure object that guaranteed great power – among other things?

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Ambassador," Dean began.

"You do not have to mention it," Delenn said. "But I gathered from my attaché that there were two of you."

"Oh yeah," Dean replied. "My brother – Sam – he's the one who actually made the appointment. He's talking to Ambassador Londo Mollari right now. He kinda drew the short straw."

Delenn tilted her head puzzled.

"He did what?" she inquired.

Oh great, Dean thought. He had meant it to come as flattering. But, it seemed, if he wanted to use flattery, he would have to be less colloquial in his attempts.

"He agreed to take the interview with Ambassador Mollari and allow me the pleasure of your company, Ambassador," he clarified.

Now Delenn was looking amused. Dean was beginning more and more to regret that Sam was not there. He was sure Londo would have been easier to deal with.

"You must understand that to many on Earth the Minbari hold a certain…fascination I suppose," Dean began, trying a different road. "We want to learn more about them."

"Do you?" Delenn asked wistfully. "That was not the impression I gathered from the ISN reporter a few weeks ago. According to her my people are apparently still on trial for a war that has ended eleven years ago."

"It was a pretty bad war, Ambassador," Dean could not refrain from pointing out.

Delenn did not contradict him like Dean thought she would be bound to. She had not jumped to the defence of her people or tried to justify the war by saying that technically the humans had struck the first blow. In some strange way that felt almost like a tacit agreement.

"The thing is," Dean went on, "Because those of Earth know so little about your people, it makes them think instantly about the war when the Minbari are mentioned. They do not have anything else to associate them with. Now take the Centauri, for example. We know quite a lot about them since they're so forthcoming and all – or, at least, they pretend to be so. And maybe we can give people something else to think about regarding the species that we don't know much about yet – you know, the things they like, the things they believe in, their legends and so on."

"Maybe their own perception of humans?" Delenn prompted.

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure," he accepted, "Why not?"

"You fascinate me," Delenn declared all of a sudden.

Dean raised his eyebrows. Now that he had never expected to hear when he had walked into the room.

"Me personally or the human race in general?" he wanted to know.

"Both actually, Mr…Parks, I think Lennier said your name was, wasn't it?"

There was something about the way Delenn had asked about his name that put Dean immediately on the alert. He nodded slowly to confirm her query but he knew Delenn had not really been asking for confirmation.

"Humans have some amazing traits," Delenn went on thoughtfully. "Both good and bad. Whatever they do, they do it in a way that makes them visible to other races. They cannot be ignored. Did you know, for example, that when aliens talk about other species, humans are their favorite topic of conversation? The Brakiri for example, they have a very interesting legend. They talk about an unusual group of humans who travel the galaxy in search of restless spirits and monsters – the Brakiri say they call themselves Hunters. Are you familiar with this myth, Mr. Parks?"

Dean kept his face deliberately blank. He shook his head carelessly. Meanwhile, the gears were turning inside his head. Why had Delenn mentioned Hunters to him? The way she had brought them into the conversation, it only seemed accidental, like a coincidence – as if she had no idea she was actually talking to a Hunter. But Dean had never been one for coincidences and he had already established that Delenn was the kind of person who did nothing without a clear reason. Had she said all that just to show Dean she was on to him? If so, what did she intend to do?

But it appeared that Delenn was going to do nothing so far. She did not even intend to continue the conversation.

"I am sorry, Mr Parks, but I am afraid I will have to terminate our talk," she announced briskly. "The Advisory Council is meeting in two hours and I have notes to prepare until then. If you and your brother wish to tell me anything, feel free to contact me again."

It was a clear invitation for Dean to go and he had no choice but to take it. If he was to be honest with himself, he did not feel too sorry for having to leave. The meeting had made him uncomfortable enough and he wanted to go somewhere quiet to think about whatever the Minbari Ambassador knew about him and Sam and how much her apparent knowledge of who they were changed things. He got up quickly and headed for the door. He stopped briefly, as if thinking about asking Delenn about the purpose of her questions. Then he changed his mind and simply left.

Delenn was on her way to the Council Chamber when a Markab approached her. She shook her head impatiently. She was not surprised by the Markab. She had been expecting him. But the fact that he sought her out still irritated her.

"I have heard the Ambassador had a visitor early this morning," the Markab said. "One of the ones I warned you about."

"I wonder," Delenn said. "I tried to mention a few of the things you told me. He did not appear to know what I was talking about. If I did not know better, I would say that you were mistaken."

The Markab frowned.

"He was lying," he declared.

"Oh, quite likely," Delenn accepted calmly. "What I do not understand is why you have come to me with this. Why not go to your own ambassador?"

The Markab hesitated. Delenn stopped walking and waited patiently for the other to answer her. She was going to be late to the Council if she did not hurry. But somehow, the matter that the Markab had presented her with had piqued her curiosity more than she was willing to admit.

"My government does not like it when our people make use of certain…resources," the Markab said at length. "The need to ask Hunters for help is…scandalous for a pious member of society. Evil stalks only those who have done something to deserve it. The righteous do not need outside protection from it. And these Earth Hunters – they are tainted. They bring bad luck. But let me tell you something, Ambassador. If these two are who I think they are – then they're the worst of the lot. Even their own kind – other Hunters – even they shun these two. Bad luck and death and darkness beyond our wildest dreams, Ambassador – that is what follows them wherever they go."

Delenn did not seem too impressed by the Markab's diatribe. She frowned slightly.

"Has it ever occurred to you," she began reasonably, "that you might have got it backwards? That maybe this bad luck and darkness you describe are actually a cause of them being in a place and not the result?"

But the Markab was not in the mood for reasonable arguments.

"A word of advice, Ambassador Delenn," he said, "Talk to the Brakiri. They use Hunters too. They even pay Hunters for their services. They would be more open to talk. And when you do, mention to them the name Winchester and see how they react."

The Markab left, obviously dissatisfied with how the dialogue had gone. Delenn stood watching him depart, thinking she might very well do what he had suggested.