Chapter Seven: All or Nothing (G'Kar's POV)
G'Kar felt himself relax, slowly. He remembered the next day very well. The dawn had found him sitting in his cell, tense with anticipation. He'd known instinctively when the sun rose, though his cell had no windows.
Cartagia's guards had come for him then. It had worried him, briefly, when they'd checked the chains on his stocks, then switched them out. He'd wondered if somehow Mollari had been caught. But then the concern had faded away. It didn't matter. Not anymore. Whatever happened, he would fulfill the final part of his bargain with the Centauri, and one way or another, this ordeal would end. He'd known he would give everything he had, until his heart burst if needed.
They'd clapped him in the stocks, locked the thick chains around his wrists, and escorted him out of the cell. Outside, his people had been lined up three and four deep, watching as he was shoved down the long narrow path, toward the make-shift throne room. And every face had showed fear, concern, sorrow.
The sight had broken his heart, a worse pain than anything Cartagia could ever do to him. Seeing the sad eyes watching him had been painful. So much so that he'd taken a chance, and pretended to trip near the side of the path, falling to his knees as if his shackles had dragged him down. Four or five of his people had rushed forward to lift him up, their hands gentle, and he'd taken time to whisper words to them. Words of hope. Words of encouragement. Reminders of the strong, proud people they were. He hadn't had more than a minute before Cartagia's guards had seized him and shoved him down the path, but it had been enough. Enough time to see resolve form in their eyes. Enough time to see a flicker of hope in their drawn faces.
Then they'd arrived at the throne room. Cartagia was there, seated in his chair, and various Narn officials, most of whom he knew. Most of them had looked frightened as well, and he hadn't found it in his heart to blame them. If he hadn't already resolved himself to win their freedom or die trying, he'd have been more than a little shaken himself.
Cartagia had gone on to announce that he was charged with murder, sedition, treason, violence, instigating rebellion and just about every other crime the Centauri could think of. The man had rattled off four or five, waved the rest away, then announced the sentence. Death by vivesection. Then, almost as an afterthought, he'd asked how he would plead.
A grim smile touched G'Kar's face. Of course, he could have answered, but there was nothing much to say. If bound to speak honestly, he'd have admitted to every single crime Cartagia charged him with. He had killed Centauri, he had committed violent crimes against them. He had instigated rebellions, as often as he could. He wouldn't have called his actions treason, exactly, considering he didn't acknowledge the Centauri right to set a single foot on Narn Homeworld, but he'd doubted that anyone in Cartagia's court would see it the same way. So he held his peace.
Cartagia had asked again, and he'd reached up, wrapping his hand around the left hand chain. Then his right hand around that chain. For a moment, he felt uncertain. The chains felt solid, hard. But he'd seen his people's frightened faces. It was enough. He'd set his shoulders and pulled, straining every muscle in his tortured back, pouring every thought of hate into it. He'd reached inside himself, to the fire of pain and rage he'd been storing since his capture, and let it rip through him, centering on the chains. Pulling with everything in him. For a moment, they'd been unyielding. He'd heard Cartagia say the chains were solid corillium, and he hadn't cared. And then, with a grinding wrench that seemed to explode through him, and through the throne room, the links had shattered.
Grim satisfaction flowed through him at the memory. Cartagia had been shocked. Everyone had. Only Mollari and his assistant looked ready. Even his own people had been standing with their mouths open. It was the best distraction he could have hoped for, and he'd put it to good use, moving forward to hit the nearest guard in the jaw with the stock and sending him flying. By the time he'd taken a step toward the second guard, the other Narns were moving. Chaos had erupted, a full out fight. He'd thrown the heavy bar from his shoulders and leaped into the fray, reveling in the feeling of payback for the torment he'd endured. The first time he'd looked up Cartagia had still been sitting, staring like an idiot. So he'd punched a few more guards, and when he looked back, the Emperor of Centauri was gone. Only a few minutes later, there'd been a shout of alarm, of people crying Cartagia's name. He'd caught, very dimly, the sound of Londo's voice, shouting something indistinct.
The guards, those not rushing to the Emperor's aid, had surrounded them. This time, they'd had guns instead of staffs, and G'Kar had held his people back, knowing that now was not the time. He'd been amused, watching them group around him, like mothers protecting a child. He'd stayed where he was, quiet and waiting. Scanning the room and deciding which guard he'd attack to open the way if Mollari had gone back on his promise. Of course, he'd known then that he'd probably die, but he'd been slated to die anyway, and being shot to death was far cleaner than what they'd planned for him. All he'd needed was for one of his followers to get out and announce Cartagia was dead, and the Centauri were in disarray. He'd picked the sturdiest of the group around him, and informed him quietly of what he knew. That the Shadows held Centauri Prime, and the Vorlons were coming to wipe it out. It was more fuel for the fire, and he'd known every bit would help if they had to fight free.
But it hadn't been needed. After only a few hours, Londo had come in, followed by several other Centauri nobles, and Vir, and the guards. He'd waved irritably at the guards around the Narn contingent, then looked G'kar in the eye and announced, rather dryly, that the Centauri were leaving. Their logic was that the Narns were barbarians, not worth dying for, or with. And that two of their Emperors had died while trying to deal with the Narns. He'd stated that G'Kar's people were a waste of Centauri resources that would be better spent elsewhere. He'd then announced, to the room in general, that the Centauri were leaving Narn Homeworld. Packing up and moving out, effective immediately. And, in his capacity of newly appointed Prime Minister, his first order was to get the Narns still in the Centauri Palace out of it, so he could evacuate in peace.
The guards had been ready to escort them out at gunpoint, but G'kar had been through quite enough. He'd drawn himself up as well as he could, and announced they'd find their own way out. And that any Centauri they found in the Palace two mornings later would be fair game. Londo had nodded, and he'd turned and walked away, hoping that no one would be able to tell his vision was going gray at the edges, and grateful that the press of Narns walking as his honor guard kept him from crashing into things. Finally, they'd left the Palace a respectable distance behind, and he'd been able to collapse into his people's arms. He had no idea who had taken him up, or cared for him. All he remembered was the fading thought that had followed him into the darkness. He'd succeeded. He'd given it everything he had, and won back his world for his people.
In the darkness, G'kar smiled. He had succeeded, and gained his freedom as well. And not just from the Centauri, but from the chains of hate and destructive behavior he'd known before. The man he'd once been, who was willing to do anything for power, and would have stooped to any level to bring a Centuari down...that man had faded. Kosh had warned him...had told him he had to choose. And despite the price, he knew the choice had been worthwhile. He had fewer regrets now. He also had more relationships, and truer ones. Friendships, like the ones he'd built with Delenn, and Sheridan, and Garibaldi. And while there was still much to do to rebuild his homeworld and truly rescue his people from the darkness, he felt he'd made a good start. He also felt it would be possible, with the help of Sheridan and the others.
The smile faded. There was still one chain that bound him to the past. Mollari. He'd considered, on his return to Babylon 5, simply breaking the connection between him. He'd even said it to the man: "Let us pray we never meet again." And yet...
The bond still existed. He'd thought, and hoped, that the destiny between them was broken that day on Narn Homeworld, but it wasn't the case. The connection still stretched between them, though he still didn't know why. But even so, he had to admit it wasn't what it had once been. Hate had been replaced by...he wasn't sure what. Pity? Comradeship? Simple understanding? He didn't dare think a word like friendship, or compassion. And what Mollari thought of it, he had no idea. Well, he hoped the Centauri felt some gratitude, since it had saved his life. But still...
G'Kar stood, stretching and taking a few frustrated steps across his quarters. A slow growl of frustration threatened to escape him. He and Mollari had come to a truce, of sorts. What else could matter? And yet, now that the question had been raised, he was curious, wondering what the Centauri Ambassador thought of the developments between them. But it was the middle of the night. There was no reason for him to go to the infirmary. And Mollari was probably asleep. Even if he wasn't, what in the universe was he supposed to say?
His eye touched the half-full bottle of wine on his table, and he stopped, considering it. He knew full well Mollari wasn't supposed to have wine. But then...it was the middle of the night. A slow smile curved one corner of his mouth. He could be counted on to tease Mollari, to jibe at him for the words he'd spoken. And a bottle of wine would suit the occasion nicely. It was almost a tradition between them to harass each other. Dr. Franklin would be furious with him, of course...but then, Dr. Franklin was no doubt asleep, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
G'Kar let his smile widen. then reached over, corked the bottle and swung his jacket over his shoulders. He snatched the bottle from the table, along with two glasses, and stalked out the door, headed for the infirmary.
Commitment (Londo POV)
Londo sighed, looking at the darkness. Despite the difference in scenery, this whole chain of memory reminded him of the night he'd sat up, waiting in the darkened palace on Narn Homeworld for the dawn. He'd watched the light come slowly into the Palace, staining the stone reddish in the sunrise. Knowing the stone would, one way or another, be stained a different sort of red, and wondering if he'd end the day as Prime Minister, or meeting his Maker and trying to explain how he had screwed up so incredibly badly. And yet, as much as some part of him had wanted to run away and forget the whole plan, he'd known it was impossible. That would only result in the destruction of his people. He'd sighed into the sunrise, knowing then that he was committed to the course he had chosen. His last thought, as he'd turned to get ready, was a brief hope that G'Kar wasn't having the same second thoughts he was.
He'd gotten dressed with a heavy heart, then slowly slipped the fatal weapon with it's nerve paralyzer into his jacket. One look at Vir in the hallway had told him his assistant had been thinking much the same thing he was, and had come to a similar conclusion. They'd looked at each other for a moment, then gone to join Cartagia in the throne room, to await G'Kar.
He'd been terrified, watching the Narn stagger into the room. G'Kar had looked...weak, unwell. He'd been staggering slightly, and the gauntness that Londo had tried so hard to ignore was painfully evident. His remaining eye had been fever bright, intense with anger and hatred, but he'd feared that anger would no longer be enough to save the other man.
His fear had only increased when Cartagia had motioned him closer and whispered about having G'Kar's chains replaced. The Emperor had commented about how weak the other chains had looked, and he'd felt his gut freeze. Fear had crashed through him, wondering if Cartagia was baiting him, and already knew his plans. Wondering if he'd been betrayed by one of his compatriots, or if the Emperor had simply noticed his strange behavior. He'd tried not to act too abnormally, but then, one could never be sure what the eyes of madness or paranoia would see, and Cartagia was both. But the Emperor had motioned him back to his place, and he'd gone, swallowing back the sour taste in his mouth and praying that, just once, the Great Maker would grant him a miracle.
Londo laughed into the darkness. No doubt, that had cost him all the favors he had ever earned from Heaven in this lifetime or the past three. And yet...he'd gotten his miracle.
He'd barely listened to Cartagia's flowery speech about his mercy, or his grace, or his power. It had all been a bunch of nonsense anyway. He'd stayed focused on watching G'Kar, as Cartagia sentenced him with everything under the sun, announced he was to die by vivesection, and then asked if he was going to plead guilty or not guilty.
A grim smile touched Londo's mouth once more. Of course G'Kar was guilty, technically. But everything that Cartagia had called a crime was something G'Kar's own people would have given him a medal for. He'd wanted to laugh at the situation, but he had no heart for it. Instead, he'd remained focused on the Narn, waiting for G'Kar's response.
G'Kar hadn't given a verbal response. Instead, he'd wrapped his bruised and battered hands around the chains, as close to the wrist manacles as he could. And as Cartagia had querulously called a third time for his plea, the Narn had set his shoulders, and pulled.
Londo still remembered that moment. It had felt like an eternity, as he watched G'Kar strain against his chains. He'd heard Cartagia's comment, and his head screamed that the Emperor was right, that there'd been an error, and G'Kar was going to fail. But his heart was still praying, pleading with the Maker to give him a chance, to intervene. Then he'd heard the slight screech of over-strained metal, seen the slight give. There'd been one more heart-stopping moment, and then...the chains had snapped, just above the bloodied fingers, and the Narn was free.
Grim humor touched him, remembering in the darkness. Everyone in the throne room had been staring at G'Kar, as if a demon had walked into the room. But he'd wasted no time, stepping forward to slam his broken stocks into a guard's jaw. The crack of the man's face breaking had echoed through the room. He had to give G'Kar credit. He'd neither attacked Cartagia, nor incited his people, who joined him cheerfully, to do so. Instead, he'd concentrated on the guards. Londo still found himself wondering which of those guards G'Kar had chosen at random, and which he'd had a specific vendetta against. Almost certainly, the one who had removed his eye was in that group...and the ones who had tortured him. But...it had been a perfect distraction, better than he could have wished for if he'd planned it. He'd taken it without more than a second of hesitation, touching Cartagia's arm and urging him out of the throne room. Away from his occupied guards, and away from the courtiers, half of whom were engaged in seeing that the other half didn't follow Londo and the Emperor, so he could get on with the business of assassinating the man.
Londo reached up and rubbed his throat, thoughtfully. He'd made a major mistake then, he had to admit. He'd forgotten just how irrational the Emperor was. They'd both been agitated, Cartagia with shock at what had happened, himself with fear of what he was about to do. And in his concern and fear, he'd spoken more sharply than he meant, actually dared to chastise the Emperor, and tell him to be quiet. Cartagia had turned on him, trying to choke the life out of him, railing incoherently about his destiny, and how Londo could burn with Centauri Prime for his insolence. For a few moments, he'd been terrified he really was about to die, strangled by an insane Emperor instead of an angry Narn. But then...a second miracle had intervened. Vir. His meek little assistant, the universe's most unbelievable pacifist, had come to his rescue. And, whether it had been by accident or design, he'd taken Cartagia's life. Assassinated the Emperor to save Londo. Seconds later, Londo was holding the Emperor's limp body in his arms, listening to his breathing stop.
He would have liked to simply drop the body on the floor like garbage. Would have liked to run away, sure his guilt was stamped on his face. But...he'd also known how important it was not to do either of those things. So instead, he'd pulled Cartagia's body closer and shouted for the guards, for the court. The minute someone had appeared, he'd explained that the Emperor had collapsed, that he thought something was wrong with his hearts. Which was true, technically. He was having a heart attack, of sorts. Then he'd waited for more guards and courtiers to come, gone through the whole farce of trying to save the Emperor. Within fifteen minutes of G'Kar's breaking free, Cartagia was declared dead. Within a few hours more, he and his compatriots had seen to it that he was named Prime Minister, given authority to give whatever orders needed to be given. In fact, with the Emperor dead and the new emperor or regent not yet declared, Londo had been temporarily the most powerful man in his race.
He'd almost wanted to refuse. Being Prime Minister put him one step from the Imperial throne, and it was as the Emperor he was destined to die. True, it was years away, but...the thought still sent cold chills down his spine. But even with those fears, he hadn't refused the position offered him. He'd needed that authority to get the Shadows off his world. And...he needed that power to fulfill his bargain with G'Kar.
It hadn't been the most popular decision of his career, ordering his people to evacuate. Some of them had wanted vengeance for Cartagia's death. Some of them had been trying to cling to the 'glory' of having their defeated enemies by the throat. But he'd known it was foolish. They couldn't hold the Narns without the Shadows, and if the Shadows remained on Centauri, they were doomed. The Vorlons would destroy them. Besides...he had sworn to G'Kar that he would free the Narn people, in return for Cartagia's death, and he felt it was a promise he had to keep. He'd done many dishonorable things in his time, he hadn't wanted that to be one of them. Fortunately, he'd had his reasons for abandoning the Narn Homeworld lined up, and thought over them so often he could have recited them in his sleep. So he'd patiently reminded the dissatisfied that the Narns were utter barbarians, and how costly it was to keep a whole rebellious world under constant watch. How troublesome it was. To this he'd added the argument that two emperors had died dealing with the Narns. One striving for peace, the other striving for domination. He'd hinted that he took it as a sign from the Universe that the Narns were to be left alone. Doubtless, the Centauri would do better without dealing with them, and they'd manage to wipe themselves out. Or the Shadows and the Vorlons would do it for them. Either way, it wasn't worth the waste in life, resources, time or effort. It still hadn't been the most popular idea, but it had stuck, and his people had gone to start evacuation procedures.
He'd gone back to G'Kar, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. The Narn had looked even more battered than before, as if he were about to collapse on the spot, but there was that old fire in his eyes. He'd been standing, ringed by his companions, who in turn were ringed by guards. He'd stopped well back, and informed the Narns that they were leaving. Given them the same reasons he'd given his own people. He'd seen more than one angry face in the group, and it would have been unnerving, save for the guards, and the small, tight smile that touched one corner of G'K'ar's mouth. He'd finished his statement, ordered the Narns out of the Palace. He hadn't been surprised when G'Kar had refused the escort, nor at the deadline the man had given him, the warning that in two days they'd return, and anyone left would be dead. It hadn't mattered. He and G'Kar both knew he'd have to evacuate that night, in order to return home in time to stop the Vorlons from incinerating Centauri Prime. In a way, he'd been grateful that the Narn had guaranteed his safety for so long. Then G'Kar had turned away, his group following him, and vanished.
That had been the last he'd seen of the other man, until his return to Babylon 5. He'd seen the fireworks that evening, that night, and wondered if G'Kar was out there somewhere, celebrating and being made into a hero. He knew the man deserved it, though he wouldn't have been surprised if G'Kar had simply and finally collapsed, taking the rest he'd well and truly earned. He'd had no time nor energy to find out. He'd been as committed to saving his world as G'Kar had been, and there was no time for anything else.
Londo sighed into the darkness. He had to admit, now, that he'd been relieved to see G'Kar on Babylon 5. Even more relieved to see him moving with something like his old grace and dignity, his frame filled out once more with muscle and the signs of steady meals. And then, G'Kar had received his prosthetic, cybernetic eye, and things had gone almost back to normal.
Almost. That was the key word. Londo made a disgusted noise into the darkness of his room. He knew he should be grateful that he and G'Kar had a truce. And more than grateful that the bond to the Narn had saved his life. But...he was curious. He felt strangely unsettled by the whole thing. His destiny still bound him to the other man, and he had a feeling that G'Kar knew it as well. But the relationship was no longer what it had been, and he wanted to know what the Narn thought. Wanted to know if he'd heard his apology, and how he felt about it. But...
It was the middle of the night, and he was stuck in the infirmary. Even if he'd had the strength to move and get out of bed, he'd only have a furious Doctor Franklin bearing down on him, no doubt followed by the fretting Vir. And he certainly did not intend to go wandering the halls of the station dressed in the little scrap of fabric called a hospital gown. It was far too revealing, far too short, and far too embarrassing.
Londo sighed again, and shifted his shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position. He had just gotten somewhat decently settled when a familiar form darkened the doorway.
