From Zero To Hero by ceilidh

A/N: Well, folks, here we are - the end of my first B5 story. Thanks to everyone who left reviews to encourage me, and I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

My next one will be another series of missing scenes, this time featuring Michael and Lise as they start their new life on Mars. But until then, I'll leave you with John and Michael as they reflect on what they've been through, and share some fun along the way.

Enjoy, and I hope to see you again soon.

From Zero To Hero

Chapter Ten - A New Birth Of Freedom

If all days on his station ended this well, or this peacefully, John Sheridan would be a very happy President. Okay, so one of Clark's disgruntled cronies had tried to kill him, twice, but – well, he'd failed. Twice. Now he could safely relax, and learn how his new head of covert intelligence had tracked him down.

*whack*

In between home runs, of course. And Michael Garibaldi was in especially impressive form tonight. He'd clearly seen the Dodgers latest scores, and decided to show his team how it should be done.

Watching another perfect hit sail towards outfield, John sighed, ruefully twirling his redundant bat. He could try and pull on his new Presidential privilege, of course, but he already knew how that would end. A raised eyebrow. Polite silence. And the 'yeah, right' smirk that only one person could get away with.

Especially now, John thought, casting a patiently humouring grin towards his friend. He'd get away with it especially now.

Michael's support and loyalty to him had always redeemed him from that infamous irreverence. As yet another sweet strike soared past the bleachers, John hoped that playful sense of humour, such an integral part of his character, would never change.

He had changed, of course. Both of them had. John knew he'd be naïve, and stupid, to think otherwise. Yet the ordeals they'd both been through had, if anything, made their friendship even stronger.

Their memories were still raw, though. Both of them still had a lot of talking, and healing, to do. And, just days ago, Michael Garibaldi's still vulnerable spirits had taken an alarming nosedive. But after what he'd done today, what he'd proven to doubting sceptics, and especially to himself – yes, it was amazing how a little appreciation, and a new sense of purpose, could turn all that around.

So as he watched Babe Garibaldi happily swinging that bat, John now found it impossible not to laugh. This was the happiest, and most settled, that he'd been in a long time. John just hoped it would last.

*whack*

"Whoooo-eeeee!"

Well, it would last for tonight, at least. And tomorrow? Well, that was still twelve hours away.

'Maybe by that time, I'll get my turn on the plate-'

Still grinning at that thought, John then frowned slightly as a familiar voice broke into the silence.

"So anyway, I got to thinking. You know, about what Clemens said in those voicemails? I realized all that stuff he said, about Lincoln, and Roosevelt, had to relate to you, and…well, then I figured if he'd planned it all so well, he'd know about your interest in Lincoln, so…"

"…you made the connection between Lincoln's war and ours-" John finished for him, his laughter for the thwarted glare on Michael's face quickly turning to a wiser, safer cough.

He felt a bit guilty for denying his friend the big finish that he'd been clearly gearing up for. Then again, he knew what Michael was like, once he got going, and quiet laughter returned. Even at top Garibaldi-speed, those colourful adventures in Grey 17 had taken up an entire evening. Trying to interrupt him, as John had wryly discovered, had been a waste of time. So it was a surprise, and a relief, when he realized that Michael's pinballing thoughts had already pinged elsewhere.

"Hey, did you know there was a General Sheridan in Lincoln's army?"

"Yes, I did. Philip Sheridan. In fact, we're related-" John grinned, not even trying to keep the pride out of his voice. "He was my - well, very distant grandfather-"

"No kidding!" Michael stared at him, suitably impressed, then smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Mine was still in Italy, so there weren't any Garibaldis on that battlefield-"

"If there had been, my friend, that war would have been over a lot sooner-"

"Yeah, maybe," Michael agreed, frowning for a moment, before he unleashed a burst of laughter. "Jeez, can you imagine me on a horse?"

John's eyebrows raised at that as he studied his friend. Six three in his socks, and built like a barn. Hell, you'd have had to feel sorry for the horse.

Still laughing too much to reply, deciding it would be safer not to, John then grew more serious – thoughts of one of his hero's unsung champions bringing him, inevitably, to thoughts of his own. His faithful, unflappable lieutenant who, as now, just never stopped surprising him.

"I guess this was our Gettysburg. I mean, going up against Clark, fighting our own to defeat him-"

"Yes, that was our turnpoint, Michael. The battle we had to win to end his tyranny, and win back not just our freedom, but Earth's too-" John agreed – inspired, as he'd often been, by his hero's most famous speech as he squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"That's what we fought him for, Michael. Freedom. Government of the people, by the people, for the people-"

"Yeah, that was one of my dad's favourite speeches-" Michael replied quietly, allowing himself a wistful smile for his own, lifelong inspiration, before he re-met John's eyes. "I know you never met him, John, but - yeah, he'd have liked you-"

The master of tactful silence, John didn't reply straight away. Instead he just smiled and nodded, giving his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze, for the loss that he still felt so deeply.

"I'd have liked him too-" he said at last, pushing the pain of Anna's memory aside, in new hope for what he, and his friend, had survived.

They'd both suffered such pain, and such devastating loss. But there was still much to celebrate, so much still to do. And how fitting that it was Michael Garibaldi, B5's indefatigable survivor, who now lifted the mood between them, as only he could.

"Still, he'd have had something to say about all this standing around, and none of it would have been polite. So, Mr President, what say that you and I enjoy our new freedom, while we can?"

"My thoughts exactly, Mr Garibaldi-" John chuckled, slapping his friend's back in happy anticipation as the auto-pitcher in front of them whirred back into life.

Yes, both of them still had a hell of a lot of work to do. And yes, he still couldn't get onto that damn plate. But as he watched Michael Garibaldi whack his latest pitch towards the starfield beyond, John Sheridan still felt a smile of complete happiness spread across his face.

They were both alive to fight another day - and they'd face that day in a new birth of freedom.