December 27

You got the worst of everything in Downbelow. The quarters were smaller, grouped closer together; the noise from the station's pumps, generators and engines was louder there than anywhere else – a constant dull roar; it was the last place to receive the benefit of recycled water and air. And you could taste it as soon as you set foot there. Crossing over into Brown Sector the smell rose up like a blanket – rancid air thick with heat. It got worse the deeper you went in.

And then there were the inhabitants themselves: all races squeezed in together, most of them running from something or someone – sometimes the law and sometimes other demons, usually the type that no amount of running could lose. Drug-pushers, pimps and whores rubbed shoulders with self-proclaimed ministers preaching damnation, their madmen's eyes glittering. And there was still space for the more adventurous tourists and the respectable station residents who liked to slum it at the illegal gaming tables or in the various brothels that catered for every taste and fetish.

But the place had its own hierarchy that provided a distorted reflection of life on the rest of the station. Yes, there were the shops and stalls, the clubs and bars that were seedier versions of their more respectable cousins. But there were also the healers who were almost as well organised as Stephen Franklin; the small communities that formed and out of these emerged one or two leaders who would speak for the rest, who would mediate for the others; Humans and aliens mingled and viewed each other with as much suspicion as in the council chambers; there were even the protection rackets and the occasional vigilante who, in their way, provided a sort of security down there.

And just like the rest of Babylon 5, everyone knew what everyone else was doing unless they were asked about it, whereupon they became deaf, dumb and blind. Garibaldi had known that breaking that silence was most likely impossible but he had to do something. It was no more fruitless than sitting in his office waiting for the next woman to get her throat cut. And if that silence couldn't be broken he was just hoping that someone else would give him an excuse to break a few heads.

'Have you seen this girl? Have you seen any of these women?'

There were already fliers up everywhere, official papers asking for information. Vittoria Sartarelli's face found him everywhere he turned. Why she got to him in particular he didn't know. Maybe it was the name, a vague cultural sympathy. Maybe it was those eyes and he wondered if they had really looked so limpid in life, had her lips really been so tremulous. There were the others, he did not forget them. Veronica Ryan; Luisa Menendez; Tara Brady. All dark, all slim, all young. And the latest one, Yuki, was just the type. Ranger or no she had been lucky.

'Has anyone seen any of these women?'

Space the whole of Brown Sector and be done with it, he thought.

'You want a certain type, sugar, we can come to an arrangement.'

The voice would have been sexy if hadn't been so hard-bitten. A studied sultriness that robbed it of all feeling.

'Cute.' Garibaldi eyed his interlocutor and sighed. 'Have you seen any of these women? Look, I'm not trying to make trouble for anyone; I just want to know if anybody saw any of the girls in these photos.'

He had kept his tone level. Polite. It seemed to throw the hustler off guard. The red hair was tossed over one shoulder, eyes now more uncertain than before narrowed. A shrug.

'Let me see the pictures.'

'Hey Andrea! Good business over there?' Two of them, skirts so short you could almost tell their religion, leaned against a wall, taking in the scene. 'Don't let him get off for free unless he does the same for you, baby.' They cackled at their own joke.

Garibaldi glanced at them indifferently, returned his attention to the one they called Andrea. Why, he wondered vaguely, if you wanted a man would you want one done up to look like a woman? Each to his own, but it was something he had never quite understood.

'Sorry about that,' Andrea muttered, shuffling through the photographs.

'Forget about it. What's your name?'

Hesitation for a moment. 'Andr- Andrew. Andrew Meyer.'

'Okay, Andrew. Have you seen any of them?'

The young man looked at the faces carefully. 'Yes, I-I think so.'

Garibaldi stared at him for a moment.

'This one.' It was Vittoria's picture. Of course, thought Garibaldi, it would be.

'When did you see her?'

Andrew shrugged again. 'I'm not sure – a few nights ago, I think. She ran into some guy, he gave her a hard time, I told him to back off. You know how it goes.'

'And?'

'And? And nothing: that was it. She-' He bit his lip, suddenly looking impossibly young. It was a tragic, grotesque sight under all that make-up. 'She's one of them, isn't she? These are the girls that were murdered.'

Garibaldi nodded. 'Yeah.'

A shudder ran through the younger man; he pulled the flimsy bit of feathers and sequins tighter around his shoulders. 'I guessed she was new here. I should have- Shit. I should have looked out for her a bit.' The timbre of the voice lowered suddenly, roughening.

'Did you see her with anyone?'

'I, uh, I wasn't really looking, I- I was working.' The eyes dropped from Garibaldi's. He studied the floor for a moment. 'But... I dunno.'

'But what? Look, anything could help at this point. Tell me.'

'She went off. I told her to keep her head up.' A grim smile. 'Then... I don't even know if she was actually with him or just...' Another shrug.

'With who?'

'Some Minbari guy.'

Garibaldi stared. 'Minbari?'

'Yes, Minbari. Look, I wasn't really paying attention but I think I saw him say something to her.'

'Okay. Okay. What did he look like?'

The eyes were helpless. 'He just looked Minbari; I mean they all look-' He cut himself off, colour flaring across his cheeks. 'I didn't mean that. I mean, not like that. But from a distance and when you're not really looking...'

'Yeah, I get it.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Did you see which direction they went? Or might have gone?'

Andrew looked around slowly, the pointed. 'There. Towards the Starlight Club.' Another grim smile. 'Ironic name, huh?'

'I guess. Okay. Thanks for your time, Andrew, I appreciate it.'

Andrew handed him back the photos. 'Look, I'll ask around, okay? They won't talk to you but they'll talk to me. Someone might have seen something or know someone who knows someone. You know how it goes.'

'I know. And thank-you, that would be great.' He paused, studied the face for a moment. He was little more than a boy, really. When he wasn't playing at being a streetwalker there was an edge of refinement to his voice. 'Does your family know you're here?'

There was surprise and then a shadow fell across his face. 'Do you think if they cared I would be?'

It was Garibaldi who shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm not assuming anything but maybe you don't know either. Look after yourself. And be careful.'

'What, of the maniac?' The hustler's voice was back, the sudden laugh throaty. 'I'm not really his type, now, am I?'

'You never know. Good-bye, Andrew.'

ooOOoo

'That is how the situation stands at the moment. I am aware that the increased security may cause further delays but we are working to keep those to a minimum. So far the victims have been Human but there is always the outside chance that that could change. That's why we're telling you, all of you, now. Realistically, there probably won't be a threat to any of your people and I am asking you to co-operate with the station security, to work together to keep everyone as calm and as safe as possible.' And just for a change, Sheridan thought, for no-one to try to make political capital out of it. The chances of that, he had to admit, were remote. There was not one of this assembly who would pass the opportunity to gain ground over everyone else, no matter how petty or insignificant the matter.

Well, there was one who wouldn't. Delenn had spent much of the previous night in MedLab, watching over her Ranger. Her face now was controlled, thoughtful, and only a keen observer would have noticed the shadows beneath her eyes. They were from more than just concern for Yuki Ogawa. Now, like Sheridan, she watched the faces of the ambassadors, gauging their reactions, and waiting for the first to make their opinion heard.

'If you want my advice, Captain Sheridan, you should look to the Narns for this killer. That kind of barbarism is exactly the sort of thing that you would expect from them.'

Sheridan gritted his teeth. He had come to hate Londo Mollari's voice. The Centauri leaned back, the gold buttons on his garish waistcoat catching the light; his fingers drummed carelessly against the table.

'I am going to pretend that I didn't hear that, Ambassador,' he replied coldly. Sheridan had wondered before now just how much of what Londo said the man actually believed – or if it was something he felt obligated to say.

Londo returned a smile: his lips curved, his eyes were dead. 'Forgive me, Captain. I had forgotten how fond you are of them – that you would sacrifice all others to defend them.'

It was his most reasonable tone and it was the one that got to the captain more than Londo's vitriolic outpourings. He took a moment, steadying himself before he answered.

'At the moment, we have no idea who is responsible for this but we will find them. Whichever race they're from.' He met Londo's eyes. A tremor crossed the Centauri's face that Sheridan couldn't quite name. Not contempt, exactly. Distaste, perhaps, but Sheridan wasn't certain whether it was directed at him or at Londo himself. 'But we need to stand united for everyone's sake.'

'I agree with Captain Sheridan.' Delenn spoke for the first time. 'This is not the time for personal grievances.'

'Of course you agree with the captain, Delenn. You always do.' The last words were bitten off, malice edging Londo's smile.

Delenn stiffened slightly; she returned his gaze levelly. 'Perhaps. However, at least I do not suffer from the handicap of not being able to look at a situation objectively. The crimes that have been committed against these women are beyond understanding; the last thing that we should be doing is attempting to lay the blame with anyone before we know the truth.'

It was an unpleasant silence; Sheridan could hear the restless movements across the room as councillors shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

'I think that we should leave it there. Thank-you all for coming; this meeting is adjourned.' Sheridan watched them leave with relief; Londo was still smiling to himself. The captain leaned his elbows heavily on the table. 'What the hell is his problem? Does anything ever actually penetrate his head?'

Ivanova smiled wryly. 'Maybe that hair forms a defensive barrier.'

'Yeah, maybe.' Sheridan sat back again. 'You know, almost from the day I got here Londo Mollari has been nothing but a pain in the butt, but lately...' He sighed, shaking it off.

'Vir, I think, believes that Londo is, as you would say, his own worst enemy.'

Sheridan glanced at Delenn, his face relaxing. 'Worst? I wouldn't be too sure about that – G'Kar springs to mind.'

Delenn inclined her head, a faint smile. 'Perhaps. I understand that Mr Garibaldi feels some sympathy for him.'

Ivanova pushed her chair back, standing. 'He would – one darkened mind in tune with another.'

It was the first time Susan had seen Sheridan smile that day. 'Twenty credits says you wouldn't say that to his face.'

Ivanova laughed. 'No bet. I better head back to C&C. Ambassador.' She nodded to Delenn.

Her rhythmic footsteps faded; Sheridan stood, paced the floor and Delenn watched him. He always had the air of contained energy, something restless beneath that cheerful, charming surface. Now he seemed ... caged. Like her, he had spent his childhood in the free air; Delenn wondered if he missed it as much as she did. He stopped, finally, leaning against one of the empty seats and when he spoke his words seemed simply voiced aloud rather than addressed to her.

'How can someone enjoy watching else somebody else suffer? Not just enjoy it - take pleasure in it. Torture as ... fun, as entertainment. How do you even begin to understand something like that?'

Delenn studied her hands clasped loosely in front of her. 'If you were able to understand it, I think that it would mean that there was something wrong with you. Understanding would mean that you had become like them. I can only think that those who inflict such pain must be in pain themselves. They carry with them a terrible emptiness – perhaps seeing the suffering of others is the only way that they can feel anything.'

'You mean like Sebastian.'

She caught her breath. His face was impassive.

'Yes. Like him. Yet, for all that I feared him and what he was capable of doing, I pitied him more.'

'I bet he loved that.' He was still on the other side of the room but his eyes were on her; caught in his gaze she was helpless. 'You know, we've never really talked about what happened.'

Delenn lifted her chin, her back straight. 'We both said many things in that chamber. I did not think that we needed to talk about it further.'

It was there again, that look; the one that she caught glimpses of in secret and was here, now, openly and she could return it.

'No, maybe we don't.' He crossed back to the table, took his seat again. 'But in four hundred years, nothing changes. We can conquer other worlds, we can build great space stations, but we still can't cure the sickness in people's minds.'

Someone – either Susan or Garibaldi, she was certain – had once told her that a cynic was simply a frustrated idealist. John Sheridan was still an idealist, intact; and given all that he had seen she sometimes wondered how he had managed it.

'But as long as we realise that it is a sickness,' she told him, 'we can continue to fight it. Perhaps, one day, we will be able to change it.'

It was an involuntary movement, he told himself, his hand covering hers. That was a lie. He had needed that contact, needed to feel her closer than simply sitting at a respectable distance in this supposedly respectable place. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand; her skin was smooth and soft and warm. And her eyes held his and it would be so easy to lose himself there.

When the sharp chime of his link sounded neither of them moved; only when that insistent tone repeated did Sheridan remove his hand from hers and she was aware of a lack of warmth that followed that withdrawal. Coldness after that flare of heat.

'Sheridan, go.'

'It's Franklin here. You wanted to know when Ms Ogawa had regained consciousness. Well, she's awake.'

'Can she talk?'

'Oh, she can talk. And how.'

'Okay, thanks. I'll be right down.' Sheridan paused for a moment, found Delenn's face again. 'I guess you'll want to be in on this from the start?'

She smiled slightly. 'I believe that I am already "in on this".' She paused. 'Your people have the most interesting turns of phrase.'

'It makes up for our other shortcomings.'

They both stood, Sheridan stepping to one side so she passed through the door before him. She turned slightly, their eyes meeting, then continued. And they both carried that final faint echo with them through the corridors.

ooOOoo

There was always something happening on Babylon 5 – alliances and enemies made with equal frequency; conspiracy was bonded to the air. Most of it passed Stephen Franklin by – he had too many of his own worries to spend too much time on those of others. Despite this, he noticed a lot more than people realised; he learnt information sometimes purely because people were more unguarded in his presence, assuming that he was too wrapped up in his work to notice what was going on.

He was vaguely aware that there was something brewing among the command staff, he simply had not had the time to think on it; he would have to have been living under a rock not to notice that there was something very strange about the attention to Yuki Ogawa.

Not from Garibaldi – that was his job; not even the captain – it was his station, after all. But Ambassador Delenn...

Franklin watched the three of them hovering over the girl's bed. Sheridan, Garibaldi, Delenn. It was more than just the attack on this young woman. The brooch she had worn, the two figures – Franklin could have sworn that one of them was Minbari. He scrubbed at his face. It was so hard to focus some days. Sleep, that was all he needed; just one good night's sleep and everything would start making more sense.

'Doctor, we need you in exam room two.' There was an edge of panic in the voice.

Stephen closed his eyes for a moment. 'I'll be right there.' He turned away from the observation window.

ooOOoo

Propped up against the pillows, her face still ashen, Yuki Ogawa looked about as tough as a china doll. The fingers of her strapped arm moved feebly; but her eyes, bright and alert, betrayed intelligence and insatiable curiosity.

'I was just passing through here,' she sounded almost apologetic, 'I wasn't even collecting or passing on information, it was just a stop-over.'

'Why were you in Downbelow?'

She tried to shrug and winced; Garibaldi sucked in a breath in sympathy. 'The rent is cheap. People don't ask a lot of questions and you can hear all sorts of things – useful things, sometimes. And I- I like the people. They're friendly.'

Sheridan raised an eyebrow, amused. 'That's a new one.'

'Well, some of them can be.' A shadow passed over her face. 'I still can't believe it; I was so stupid; I was off my guard and after all my training-' Yuki sat forward slightly, suppressed a cry at the sudden pain.

Delenn murmured something, placed a hand against the girl's undamaged shoulder, made her lie back.

'You shouldn't be so hard on yourself.' Sheridan looked down at her. 'You got away, that's all that matters.'

Yuki smiled slightly, colour starting to creep back into her cheeks.

'Look, just take your time; tell us what happened.'

She held a breath for a moment, released it slowly. 'I'd met with some of the others, we had a drink in one of the bars.' She glanced at Delenn. 'One of the decent ones. Sort of decent, anyway.'

There was a betraying twitch at the corners of Delenn's mouth.

The brief gleam in Yuki's eyes faded again. 'Anyway. He must have been watching me, following me all along, because as soon as I turned into a side corridor he was on me.' She paused, reliving the events. 'It was deserted, one of those places that has all the ducts running through; I didn't even hear him coming. Then my arm was grabbed, he got it in a lock behind my back, held a knife to my throat. Then… I'm sorry, it's still all a bit hazy.' She continued slowly, voice tight with control; her eyes were focused. Hard. 'He let go. He let go of my arm and I think he took something out of a pocket. I don't even really remember how I got out of that hold. I tried to break it, I think, but he was really strong.' One hand moved. 'I reached back, I went for his eyes.'

That had thrown him off balance, she remembered. Just long enough for her to find the denn'bok hidden in the folds of her clothes. He hadn't expected her to fight back; he certainly had not been expecting a weapon like that. She had delivered a backwards blow with enough power to get him off her, but not before he had slashed her shoulder. He had sworn at her in Lenn'ah-

Delenn started visibly. 'Lenn'ah?'

'Yes.' Yuki looked at them in confusion. 'He was Minbari. Didn't I tell you that?'

'No,' Sheridan replied. 'No, you didn't.'

'Are you sure he was Minbari?'

She looked at Garibaldi almost pityingly. 'It's not exactly something I'd get wrong, is it?'

'No, I, uh, I guess not.' Like Sheridan, he glanced at Delenn. She was rigid. 'Okay, then what?'

He had come at her again. A brief, desperate struggle. With one arm all but useless, dripping blood, she was overwhelmed by his greater strength and weight. He had slammed her head against the floor, it should have left her stunned; she had held onto the pike and when the syringe nicked her neck she had lashed out, fighting him off. Yes, he was strong but she was faster, even then. And she had fought hard, heard the satisfying splintering of bone when she caught him across the ribs. In the end he was the one who had run off. With her mind already clouding, the only clear thought she had had was to find Sheridan or Delenn; Yuki didn't know where to find the captain, she had headed for Green Sector. Whatever her assailant had stuck her with worked fast – the whole world was dancing, voices gibbering, faces peering at her out of the walls. She had almost made it before the drug and blood loss had finally won.

Yuki closed her eyes, sank further into the pillows. In that moment she looked like a child; when she opened her eyes again they were too old. 'Was that all right?'

'It was fine.' Sheridan sounded gruffer than he had intended, anger tight in his chest.

Delenn's fingers curled around Yuki's hand, her touch warm and steady. The young Ranger looked between her and Sheridan, her features blurring, threatening to break.

'I was so scared.'

'I know. But it is over now; and no-one will be able to hurt you here.'

Sheridan touched her briefly on the arm, gently. 'We'll find him, Yuki. He won't hurt anyone else, either.'

Her breath was deeper, calmer. 'I know that. I just wish-' She broke off in a sudden yawn. 'I just wish I'd bashed his head in while I was at it.'

'That is not quite the spirit behind your training,' Delenn reminded her; but her lips twitched slightly again.

'I suppose not.' She yawned again. 'Maybe Entil'zhashould rethink that part of the programme.'

The idea seemed to amuse Delenn: she suppressed another smile.

Yuki's eyes suddenly widened again. 'My denn'bok. Where is- Is it with my things?'

Sheridan and Garibaldi exchanged questioning looks.

'I didn't see any kind of weapon - just her ID, that was it.'

This, more than anything, seemed to deflate her. 'I must have left it there. Shit.'

'It will be found,' Delenn told her.

'I think we should probably let you get some rest.' Sheridan looked at Garibaldi. 'Unless there's anything you want to ask?'

Garibaldi had remained a few paces further back throughout; and apart from a few comments had remained silent, simply listening, watching. The young woman had relaxed immediately she had seen Delenn, accepting her authority. And Sheridan's, he had to admit, in a way that had nothing to do with his EarthForce rank or Babylon 5. Little by little the captain was becoming part of something else; and it was obvious that wherever this thing would take all of them, Delenn would also be leading them there.

Garibaldi took a few steps forward, smiled at Yuki from the foot of the bed. 'Just two questions. First, Did he say anything to you during this? Anything at all?'

'I... I don't think so. He wasn't really there to make conversation.' Her words were beginning to slur.

'Okay. Last one: would you be able to describe him or recognise him again?'

'Maybe, I-I'm not sure. It was so dark and I never really got a good look, it was just sort of impressions. General height, build – that's about it. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry. Look, I might put you with one of our artists when you're feeling more up to it, see if we can shake anything loose.'

Yuki nodded; it looked like more than she was capable of. Delenn placed her hand on her forehead, murmured something in Adronato that made the girl smile then followed the two men out of MedLab. When the three were outside again they stood, a conspicuous huddle in the corridor.

'Minbari?' Sheridan was incredulous.

Garibaldi thrust his hands in his pockets. 'Actually, that matches something I was told in Downbelow.'

'Oh?' Sheridan eyed him. 'You actually got someone there to talk to you?'

'I have my methods.'

'Damn, I am impressed. So, what was this information?'

'Not much – just that the last girl, Vittoria, was seen talking to a Minbari.' Garibaldi shrugged. 'To be honest, I thought that he was either mistaken or it was just a coincidence, irrelevant.'

'Could this ... informant ... give a description?'

Garibaldi shot Delenn an apologetic look. 'He looked Minbari, apparently.'

'Great.'

Garibaldi glanced around uneasily. 'Not that this isn't cosy but I think we should move this somewhere less public.'

They reached Sheridan's office in silence; even when seated close together on the sofa and chairs, they still kept their voices low. It was a way of life now, Sheridan reflected.

'If you want my opinion - and to be honest, I'm going to give it to you anyway - I just can't see the Minbari, Warrior Caste or any other type, being responsible for something like this. I mean, if the Minbari were going to attack Humans, wouldn't a whole clan be involved?' Garibaldi looked at Delenn. 'No offence.'

'I am not offended,' she replied. 'But you are correct. Acts such as these would bring dishonour to a clan, to the caste, to our entire race. I do not understand it.'

'I agree. And even if a Minbari were to attack a Human,' Sheridan observed, 'it would be with a political motivation – trying to provoke a retaliation.'

'I believe that that lesson has been learnt,' Delenn responded.

Sheridan inclined his head. 'Let's hope. But that still leaves us with the problem that Yuki Ogawa was attacked by a Warrior Caste Minbari; as she said, it's not something that she's likely to make a mistake on. So. Was that an unrelated attack?'

Garibaldi blew out a breath, leaned back. 'Maybe not. Just bear with me on this: I'm no expert on serial killers, but sometimes they work in pairs, it's like a partnership. Usually one of them does the actual killing, the other is more dependent – emotionally, psychologically, whatever – they can act as the lure to attract the victims. Of course, it's hard to imagine a Minbari Warrior taking that kind of risk for somebody who's not one of his own.'

'That somebody must have quite a hold over him. Fear, maybe?' Sheridan looked between them. 'Fear of whoever is actually doing this? Maybe he thinks if he doesn't go along with it he'll be the next victim. Delenn, would you know if there are any Minbari living in Downbelow and who they are?'

She hesitated for a moment, choosing her words. 'There are some, I know, but... It is difficult. We do not have the same problem with the homeless as you do. Those of our people who have suffered such misfortune are immediately cared for by the rest of their clan.'

'So, if there were any Minbari who were homeless on Babylon Five they would be looked after by somebody else.'

'Yes. And if there is no-one of their clan here, the responsibility would fall to others of their caste or myself. Those who remain as lurkers are those who do not wish for help; usually they have ostracised themselves from their clan.' She paused. 'They tend to be those who were prisoners during the war and have been unable to re-integrate themselves back into our society.'

At some point it always came back to the war, Garibaldi thought. One of those things that no-one was ever able to leave behind.

'If Michael is right - and I think he probably is – we've got a better chance of finding the killer if we can find Yuki's attacker.'

'I will contact all of the Rangers who are here at the moment, they should be able to discover the names of any Minbari living in Downbelow; they will wish to help, especially now as one of their own has been attacked.'

'Hm.' Garibaldi nodded thoughtfully. 'I think I'll do a little digging, see if there've been any similar cases anywhere else.'

'You believe that this has happened before?'

'As far I can see there's been no escalation, no learning curve. These guys usually start with lesser crimes – arson, assault, rape – they work their way up. All four victims were treated in exactly the same way, at the same level. Yeah, I think he's probably done this a lot of times before. And now we've got him.'

'I see.' Delenn's voice sounded hollow.

'And we'll be the ones to stop him, I can promise you that.'

Her smile was fleeting, forced. Delenn was an idealist; she preferred to believe in the good than assume the worst. This idealism did not mean that she was blind to reality – she knew darkness, was aware of its lure far more than others would realise. These men spoke so calmly of atrocities that were beyond any reasonable being's ability to comprehend; it was only in the depths of their eyes that she could see the same horror that she felt.

'That seems to be all we can do for now; thank-you both.' Sheridan stood. 'Michael, obviously the security details are up to you, but I want to be kept informed of any and all developments.'

'Sure.' He nodded to Delenn. She barely noticed, didn't see him leave, her eyes still focused on something that no-one else could see.

'Are you all right?'

She looked up, shivered. 'Yes. Yes, I am fine.' Sheridan was watching her carefully. 'I do find this situation distressing.'

He sat down again, closer to her. 'I wish I could say that this sort of thing doesn't happen very often; it happens far too much for my liking.'

'Do you think that Mr Garibaldi is correct? That you will be able to find this man, to stop him?'

There was a hint of a smile. 'I think that Michael doesn't believe in making promises that he can't keep, one way or another. It makes him a great friend; it also makes him the kind of guy you wouldn't want as your enemy.'

The tension had left her face, the set of her shoulders lowering. 'He is very determined. That is the correct word?'

'It's not the one I would have chosen, but it'll do.' He was still watching her. 'At least you're smiling again.'

'As are you.'

He grinned at her. 'Looks like we have a good effect on each other.'

Her smile widened in response. That was, she thought, a lovely idea. The tension in the air, in her body, had eased and her thoughts moved to all the other things she had to get through. Delenn sighed. 'I should go.'

'Busy day?'

'Oh... There are trade negotiations, territorial disputes...'

'Sounds like you find those meetings as tedious as I do.'

'Tedious?'

'Yeah. Tedious. Uh, it means-'

'I know what it means;' her eyes gleamed, 'it is just not the word that I would have chosen.'

Sheridan laughed outright. They parted, each attempting to conceal their reluctance and neither succeeding as well as they would have liked. After Delenn had gone, Sheridan still felt more buoyant than he had earlier; as he stared out of the window, across the station, the sense of bleakness began to settle again. It was a tranquil view from up there: great expanses of green punctuating the residential blocks and official complexes; a few thousand dots milling about that represented only a fraction of the station's residents. And somewhere there was someone who didn't care how many of those tiny dots he took out of existence. His link sounded and he took a moment, trying to shake off the weight of an unutterable weariness.

'Sheridan. Go.'