Months Later

One warm afternoon in Porto, Timov was awake, reading in her bed when Palco entered the royal quarters. Her illness had taken its toll on her, and though it was late morning, she felt too ill to rise.

"Your ladyship, there is a gentleman, a commoner, who has arrived to the gates to call on His Majesty."

"Londo will be gone until tomorrow - he's travelled back to the Capital City to visit with Vir. It is all in his diary of appointments. Surely you don't need me to recount his schedule?" Timov replied, a hint of irritation in her voice.

Palco bowed, "Of course, but this gentlemen is very insistent. He has arrived with a small militia, and they are guarding something for His Majesty. He says he cannot leave it unguarded, and he refuses to allow it to be scanned. He says that for the safety and security of everyone, it should be secured inside the palace at once."

Timov frowned with annoyance, "He does not want it scanned? Surely, Palco, we are not falling for such transparent rouses these days?"

"When he was informed that His Majesty was travelling until tomorrow," Palco continued, "he begged to have an audience with you. He claims that he was one of the Resistance commanders under General Phylakios."

"One of Phylakios' men, you say?" Timov leaned forward, intrigued. She glanced down at the state of her nightgown. "All right," she acquiesced, "Send Illyia to me, and I will be down to meet with him as soon as possible."

Timov dressed slowly, but at long last, she descended under her own power along a tiled promenade to where the visitor was waiting.

After Palco announced the visitor, a stalky commoner with a short crest stepped forward before kneeling. "I have the delivery that His Majesty requested," he told her. "It must be secured as quickly as possible."

Timov tapped her lips with a manicured nail. "Should we not allow the palace guards to scan it?" she asked circumspectly.

The commoner stood up again and leaned forward near her ear, whispering, "I do not believe His Majesty discussed it with the palace guard. It may unnerve them."

Timov raised an eyebrow. "Surely it isn't dangerous?" she asked nonchalantly as she tried to ascertain what might be in the mysterious delivery.

"No, of course not," the man replied. "The core components cannot be detonated in their current form."

Now both of Timov's eyebrows rose. "What exactly is in the package?" she asked the man.

"One of the fusion bombs manufactured under the direction of the Drakh," the man said quietly. "It malfunctioned and did not detonate in the tunnels when the other fusion bombs were detonated. We found it some weeks ago, still intact. It can be re-armed with some programming. We discussed it with His Majesty. He said he would oversee transferring it to the Ministry of Defense personally."

Timov thinly pursed her lips, "I see." Having a fusion bomb sitting around the palace seemed like a bad idea. Having one outside the palace seemed like a worse idea. "All right," she said at last, "your men and the royal guards will ensure it is not touched by anyone until Londo returns."

The commoner knelt, bowing his head in acquiescence.

Several Days Later

Timov let the warm water of the dimly lit traditional Centauri baths under the Sea Palace soothe her aching body. She closed her eyes, listening to the echo of the nearby droplets.

She sighed.

The traditional baths seemed like the only place her body could find peace anymore, the buoyancy and warmth of the natural sulphur springs taking the place of the daily injections that no longer seemed to work. She had given up on her pain medications — they made her feel worse, rather than better, so she had chosen to embrace the pain, rather than bury it.

"Well," came the gravelly voice of her husband. "This is where you have been hiding?" Londo threw a towel over a nearby chair. "The palace staff was reluctant to let me enter," he chuckled, "until they realized I wasn't an errant guard."

"The low lighting," Timov replied, "that or they didn't want to see all that Londo Mollari had to offer." She raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile as he disrobed. "How was your trip?"

"Vir kept me very busy." Londo descended into the large, warm pool. Gesturing at it, he said, "You have been spending most of your time here these days."

"Better than in bed, I suppose," Timov replied.

"How are you feeling?" Londo asked, concerned.

Not well, Timov thought, but she wasn't about to say that to him. She studied Londo in the dim light. He had been more than a rock – he had been by her side as her illness had progressed, and it certainly had progressed of late. Her hands shook, and her grip strength had disappeared. Fitful sleep had become her only respite from the pain. But as much as bearing the illness itself left her drained, it was watching Londo live her illness through her that was utter torment. He internalized every wince of pain that she had, and he was losing sleep and pacing the long hallways of the Sea Palace worrying over her condition.

The doctors had not been optimistic the last time she had spoken with them, and she wouldn't discuss the situation with Londo. The very last thing he needed was to be told that they had seen the last of her good days, and she might not have many days at that.

She held out her hand in the water, and he waded over to her side, gently kissing the back of her hand, but when she flinched in pain, he immediately withdrew, laying back against the side of the pool again, watching her floating in the warm pool.

"I'm fine," Timov reassured him. If he knew the truth, she considered, it might finally break his spirit for once and for all.

"I need to talk to you about something important," his voice fell.

Timov knew Londo's attention had been divided between her condition and the reputed Drakh base in hyperspace. Both weighed heavily on his mind, and he was being torn between his loyalty to her and his conviction that the Centauri were still at risk from the Drakh. Ultimately, no matter how devoted he was to her, his sense of loyalty and duty to his people would force him to act, sooner or later, to protect the Centauri people. She sensed the time had come, and she was not wrong.

"I have been thinking about the Drakh technology and about my vision from the Drakh," Londo said quietly. "I am the only one who can find the base, and I am afraid if I wait longer, that they will try to launch another attack against us. Perhaps against the Centauri people, perhaps against our family, perhaps," he sighed, "against Vir." He finally gazed at Timov. "I have to do something."

"I thought Vir told you no," Timov said, trying to maintain an even voice. "He won't send the fleet. It would be an enormous military venture to even look for, let alone find—"

"—I'm not taking a fleet, nor do I need Vir's permission."

Timov scoffed, "So you are planning to do what? Get a ship and fly off to look for this reputed base by yourself? What do you think you are going to do when — and if — you find this so-called base? Do you think the Drakh will be happy to see you, Londo?"

"If I find the Drakh base, I will return and let Vir and the fleet know where it is at, and they can take care of it. This isn't an impulsive decision I've made," Londo replied. "I've given it a lot of thought. If there was any other way that I could take care of this problem . . . ."

"Londo Mollari doing something rash? I can't possibly imagine," Timov said dryly. "Do you think Vir is going to let you leave the planet to carry out such a foolish plan?"

"Vir isn't going to know about it," Londo said firmly. "I'll have to run border security like a common trade pirate, but I think I still have enough flying skills to get past them."

"Oh," Timov shook her head testily. "This is utterly foolish, Londo. This may be the worst idea you've ever had, and quite honestly, you've had some terrible ideas in your lifetime. You'll get yourself killed just trying to get off the planet."

"I don't have a choice," Londo's shoulders dropped and he stared at the water. "If I had done something about the Drakh base earlier, Senna would still be alive," he said softly. "I am not prepared to leave for some time, but I wanted to tell you now so that we may enjoy our days together before I must leave. I have a number of things I must yet arrange, including a vessel. Besides, this journey will give me the opportunity to search the outer Rim for another agony device, and this time, we can use it to cure your condition."

"—Londo—"

"—Please," he pleaded. "I cannot bear your suffering," he said quietly, his voice sinking so low that Timov had to lean forward to hear him, "to see this disease ravage the strongest person I know."

Timov wanted no part of another agony machine, but she knew his chance of finding another machine, even beyond the Rim, was unlikely. She also knew that if Londo left on his foolish errand, he needed what hope she could provide that she might yet recover, and he was trying to provide her with hope , as well. "Fine," she replied, "if you find one, then I will submit."

Londo smiled, relieved, "Of course I will find one," he nodded assuredly.

Timov studied her husband. The Sea Palace had provided them both with happier days, even under the present circumstances, but she knew his responsibilities were always at the back of his mind.

Timov astutely changed the subject. "A package was delivered for you — they were reluctant to bring it through security . . . ." She waited to see if his explanation would match the Resistance commander's explanation.

Londo locked eyes with her for a moment as if trying to discern how much she knew, "Just a few knick knacks," he replied mildly, shrugging. "They are surprise gifts for some of the courtiers. If they were scanned, the royal court would know before they could be wrapped," he chuckled nonchalantly. "You know how meddling they are, and I want to be able to surprise them for once."

Timov narrowed her eyes, about to ask him if he would like to tell her the truth instead of a lie, but she stopped herself before the words could pass her lips. Her chest gripped with terror. There was only one reason he would need to lie about the fusion bomb, and it didn't have anything to do with returning to Centauri Prime to relay the coordinates of the Drakh base to Vir and the Centauri military command.

Slowly, Timov swam to his side and, fighting the pain of her nerve endings, she embraced him. Londo returned the embrace, his arms and tentacles wrapping around her, pulling her tightly to his chest.

At last, Timov pulled back, smoothing Londo's crest back into place. She knew that Londo was fully capable of logic and diplomacy if he found the Drakh base before exploding a vessel into it, but if his emotions were running high, especially if he had to live through another tragedy, including the torment of watching Timov's illness take her one day at a time, he'd act on emotion and instinct alone, and only destruction would follow.

Timov allowed a few weeks to pass as she contemplated the Drakh problem and her concern for Londo's well-being. But all she could see was how her own condition was drawing him deeper into the pit of despair. After all that he had been through, Londo needed the promise of hope, not the finality of another tragedy or the slow and grueling marathon of her illness.

At her request, the Royal Physician entered her bedroom.

"Lady Timov," he dipped his head in greeting.

"Thank you for coming," she gestured toward a chair next to her bedside, and he sat down.

"I'd like to talk a bit about my quality of life," she said quietly. "I'm not interested in making every day a good one – nor do I believe that is even possible at this point. I simply am looking for a few good days – whatever it takes."

The Royal Physician sighed, "the efficacy of the drugs diminishes greatly after a spike in dosage. If we put you back on a constant, low dose—"

"—No," Timov cut him off. "I want a few quality days, not endless low quality days."

The Royal Physician clenched his jaw, "Lady Timov, I can do as you ask, but either you will be in excruciating pain after a few days or I'll have to drug you with pain meds until you don't know up from down. You have always instructed me that you didn't wish to rely on the drugs if you didn't have to—"

"—I need these days more than I need my own artificial standards," she replied quietly. "I need it to appear as if my disease has gone into remission. Let us call it a play for an audience of one, and I need the means to play my part."

The Royal Physician's eyes widened, "His Majesty would never forgive—"

"—His Majesty will never know," Timov said curtly. "And we are going to keep it that way."

The Royal Physician stood and stiffly bowed, "Of course, Your Ladyship."

"When everything is ready, bring it to me," she instructed.

The Royal Physician inclined his head before disappearing through the brocaded door of the royal quarters at the Sea Palace.

A few days later, Londo awoke drowsily to find his wife had disappeared. "Where is Timov?" he bellowed at Palco as he dressed.

"She is downstairs, Majesty. I believe she is speaking with the staff. She was up early, she went for a seaside stroll before greeting visitors to the palace. I think she is off giving instructions to the staff now."

"Timov?" Londo leaned in closer. "Are you sure? She has not felt that well in a long time."

"You may see for yourself, Majesty," Palco gestured toward the entrance of the royal quarters.

Circumspectly, Londo pulled on his boots, and he wandered the palace, chatting amicably with courtiers until he encountered Timov, regally dressed and instructing the household on which paintings should be rotated from the palace for restoration.

"Well," Londo clasped his hands behind his back, addressing her back. "You are feeling better."

Timov whirled to see Londo, her hand lingering in shock on her chest. "I still have my original hearts, Londo," she chastised him with a huff. "You don't need to test out whether you can give me a heart attack by surprising me."

"Great Maker, you've been laid up in bed, journeying only as far as the baths for weeks, and today, all of a sudden, you are feeling well enough to do this," he waved at the paintings. "Do you think this is wise?"

"You recall that the doctors said Lake's Syndrome can go into sudden remission at any time," she replied evenly. "Who am I to question a bout of good luck for a change?"

"So, you are saying that you have miraculously gone into remission?" Londo pursed his lips thoughtfully as he peered closely at her face.

"That is what it would appear to be," Timov watched him for a moment before she realized that he was studying her pupils to see if they were dilated. "Are you finding what you are looking for?" Timov asked him.

Londo grunted before stepping back, apparently satisfied with what he found. "How long could this remission last?" he asked.

Timov shrugged, "Who can say? It could last for years. I am only glad it happened when it did - I'm not sure I had much more to give."

Londo folded his arms thoughtfully. "Well, this is promising. It will ensure that I have enough time to send an agony machine back—"

"—bring it back," Timov corrected him, her eyes narrowing.

"—Bring it back," Londo corrected himself without missing a beat, "we could rid you of this insidious disease, just as you should have done when you had the chance, instead of hooking it up to me."

Timov watched Londo's eyes light up with something that had been missing for what seemed like a lifetime — a glint of hope. He wrapped his arms around her, his face brightening, and even though her medication, she felt the old sting of pain, but through grit alone, she didn't let it register on her face. Instead, her face softened into a smile. "I don't suppose I could turn it down a second time."

"No." Londo beckoned a nearby servant. "Get the Royal Physician," he instructed before turning back to Timov.

"Right away, Majesty," the servant snapped his heels and disappeared in search of the Royal Physician.

Within minutes, the doctor appeared. "Majesty," he bowed deeply to Londo.

"Eh," Londo gestured to Timov, "she has the energy of a squadron today. . . ."

The Royal Physician smiled hollowly, "Indeed, Majesty. The classic signs of remission."

Londo folded his arms intently, "How long do you think this remission will last?"

"Hard to say." The Royal Physician was doing his utmost not to lie directly to the Emperor.

The doctor glanced up momentarily, catching Timov's stare, and he turned back to the Emperor. "Where there is a marked change in the patient's condition, we often have a minimum of several months of remission. If the gods are particularly generous, it could be years before Lake's Syndrome resumes."

"Well," Londo patted the doctor on the back, "this is good news!" He turned to Timov, "Tonight, then, we will celebrate. I will have the royal chef prepare fresh caught gichilcos in seared liliberry sauce, and I will have the beach lined with fire for an outdoor feast and the Porto fire dancers will perform, yes? And then," Londo began ticking off a number of places that he would take her, including concerts and festivals.

Timov put a hand on his arm to tide the storm of activities he was already planning. "Of course," she smiled. "And perhaps some alone time tonight."

Londo's jaw perceptibly dropped, "Well," his eyes danced as a mischievous grin spread along his face, "I suppose everything else can wait for a day or two."

Late the next day as Londo was making his noticeably more cheerful rounds to every corner of the palace, Timov flipped on the screen in her study and placed a private call. She glanced at the screen in front of her. "Thank you for taking my call," she said.

"My pleasure," came the reply.

"I was wondering if I might impose upon you for a favor. It is not an insignificant request," she said.

"I would not imagine that you would be concerned with trifles," the voice said lightly.

"You and Londo are in much the same positions now – though you have come to it through different means."

The Narn on the other end of the transmission cocked his head curiously at Timov's comment. "In what way?" G'Kar asked.

Timov pursed her lips in thought, "Neither of you are truly free to travel around your home planet – your followers are always at your heels, and the Centauri treat him much the same way after his miraculous recovery. I don't think either of you are too fond of these external restrictions that have been placed upon you. You both have been diplomats, and you both like to travel, rather than having your movements artificially restricted by the crowds."

"Constantly being inundated by my followers is a burden," G'Kar said. "But in the grand scheme of burdens, it is more fortunate than most. I find that it is relieved by regular walkabouts with the Rangers or in other spacefaring ventures."

"Indeed," Timov agreed, "and perhaps you would be interested in another space venture. I'll come to the point, G'Kar. Londo spoke of the Drakh base with you before?"

G'Kar's eyes flashed at her mention of the Drakh. "Yes, during the bombing of Centauri Prime when we were in the bunker, he had only a few moments free of his keeper. He said that he had seen a vision of the Drakh base when the Drakh touched his mind to reattach the keeper. It was one of his foremost concerns. He did not have enough time to relay where it might be found."

Timov frowned, pursing her lips, "That is because he doesn't know where it is located beyond his ironclad belief that it is anchored in hyperspace and, at most, he may be able to pinpoint a few nearby star constellations from his vision by the Drakh," Timov replied.

"If there is a Drakh base, it is a security threat to us all," G'Kar said, his voice troubled. "What can I do?"

Timov paused, aloofly, before she continued with a sigh, "Vir won't authorize a military mission to find the Drakh base, so Londo is inevitably planning to do something impulsive and reckless. He has secretly procured a fusion bomb."

G'Kar grunted in surprise at the statement but otherwise did not interrupt her explanation.

"I do not think Londo will fare well alone on such a venture," Timov continued. "His seclusion at the hands of the Drakh makes him especially perceptible to deep depression and loneliness when he is isolated, but Londo considers you a good friend and colleague. In light of your extensive travels beyond the Rim, I hoped that you might accompany him, and, if you recognize any of the star constellations he is looking for, perhaps you could ensure that he is not able to fulfill his mission for some time."

The leather on G'Kar's chair squeaked as he leaned back and the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkled into an imperceptible smile, "I see – so Mollari needs a guide for the outer Rim? One who prefers a circuitous route."

"You won't be able to fool him forever," Timov replied, her face serious. "But when he gets close, you needn't accompany him to the base . . . ."

G'Kar tapped his desk in thought. "If it is a real place, I would not bet against Mollari finding it eventually — how long it may take, no one can say, but when that man gets an objective in his head, he is like a piktha whose teeth meld with the flesh of its prey. And if it is a real place," G'Kar's red eyes flashed, "Mollari is right to try to neutralize any remaining Drakh threat before they can inflict more harm — on your people, on my people, or on the other inhabitants of the Alliance worlds. I cannot argue with his motives." G'Kar continued thinking over the proposition for a moment, "The odds against success in this particular endeavor are overwhelming. But," he shrugged, "I like those odds."

G'Kar stood up from his desk, "It is an altruism that two diplomats are better than one. And perhaps a diplomatic solution could be arranged before sending in the fireworks." G'Kar studied the frail woman on the other end of the communication, "But what about you?" he asked.

"Centauri Prime will always be Londo's first love," Timov replied, "as it always must be for an emperor. He cannot fight his sense of duty to protect our people following the news that Senna's murder was made possible only by Drakh technology."

"That did not answer my question," G'Kar replied quietly.

"I know that Londo's sense of duty is too strong to talk him out of this foolish idea, but if there is a chance that he can be convinced that there is another way, the only person who might be able to do it is you. As for me, I will be at peace if I know Londo has the best chance of survival. But there isn't much time," Timov told him. "My doctors have provided me with a short window with which to give him some hope concerning my condition."

G'Kar wondered at the Empress Dowager's selflessness, and he raised his fists to his chest in salute. "I will prepare my ship, and I will dock at Centauri Prime as soon as possible."

The screen went blank.

G'Kar strode through the Sea Palace. He noted that it seemed far more cheerful than the main palace. From just a few short hours in Porto, he had ascertained the town was infinitely more exciting than the Capital City. He rounded a corner in the palace, following closely behind Emanio.

"G'Kar," Timov smiled at the sight of the tall Narn. "It is good to see you again."

G'Kar raised his fists in a salute, but before he could say anything, a rasping voice boomed as loudly as it could behind him.

"G'Kar? What are you doing here?" Londo threw open his arms, genuine surprise and happiness filling his frame. Before G'Kar could answer, Londo asked, "You're not still drinking that terrible Narn taree still, are you? Bleh," Londo's face crinkled into disgust. "I'll get you some brivari," he nodded to Palco who reappeared shortly with a glass for G'Kar.

G'Kar noted that Mollari was in high spirits, perhaps the best mood he had seen him in since he had left Babylon 5 so many years earlier. G'Kar picked the glass up off the tray. "I heard you might need a guide — someone familiar with the outer Rim," he said nonchalantly.

Londo stared at G'Kar before he glanced at Timov. "Timov called you here?"

Timov replied dryly, "It wouldn't do any good for Vir's popularity if his border security accidentally killed you trying to escape the planet, Londo."

"Oh," G'Kar raised his brivari, "I don't know – it might help his popularity off world," he chuckled.

Londo scowled at the remark.

G'Kar chuckled, "Anyway, I heard that you needed someone reliable who can reliably pass through Centauri border security without being detected, and I have some experience in the matter." He raised his gauntleted hands toward himself, signifying that he had arrived by doing just that. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long before planetary security detects my vessel, and since I may have neglected customs on my way in, our window to get out without a rather laborious interview process about who and what we are transporting is rather limited."

Londo stared blankly at G'Kar, "How much time do we have?"

"A few hours," G'Kar told him as he glanced at Timov. "Just enough time to load whatever cargo you need. I know Centauri always have a lot of luggage," G'Kar stifled a smile. "But please, leave the chandeliers here. You remember when that one wedged itself in my leg?"

With a shake of his head, Londo walked to Emanio's side, and he spent several minutes giving Emanio quiet but pointed instructions about various topics, some quite animated, although G'Kar and Timov could not hear what they were about. Eventually, Londo ushered Emanio out of the room, presumably to have the guards load the fusion bomb on to G'Kar's ship.

Londo looked G'Kar over momentarily, "I see I didn't do a good enough job."

"Trying to kill me?" G'Kar chuckled, "nor I, it seems. Perhaps fortunate for us both."

"Fortunate, indeed that we are both second-rate criminals," Londo told him. "It is good to see you again, my old friend," Londo clapped him on the back, beckoning him to a nearby seat. "Sit, sit."

Taking his seat, G'Kar gestured with his gauntlet toward Timov. "Does an Empress Dowager still have to obey an emperor's commands when he is dead?"

"Don't antagonize Timov. That is my job," Londo said lightly.

After a half hour of jovial talk, G'Kar stood up, knowing that Londo's time on Centauri Prime was short, and Londo had goodbyes to make. "I will see to the cargo - it should be balanced for the quick ascent we must make to miss the Centauri planet scans." He raised his fists to his chest, turning to Timov, and she bowed her head to him, mutual respect evident in both their eyes.

After G'Kar left, Londo disappeared into the royal suite. As he emerged a few minutes later, Timov's breath caught in her throat. Londo's imperial clothes were gone, replaced by a set of his old diplomatic clothes, the dark colors setting off the gray that had aged his hair since he had assumed the throne.

"They still fit," he spread his arms as the jacket clung tightly to him, "mostly."

Timov raised an eyebrow at the sight of the ill-fitting clothes and folded her arms with disapproval, "Do you really think that will disguise you during your travels?"

"What self-respecting emperor would be caught without his guards and his imperial clothes?" Londo patted his chest self-assuredly. "Of course, it is enough of a disguise once I am out of Centauri space. No one will recognize my voice anymore, damaged as it is, and everyone will think I am a poor excuse for a Centauri anyway, unable to spend enough ducats to hire a tailor." He chuckled as he glanced at his jacket.

Timov's eyes traveled down his clothes, coming to rest on the distinctive marks of honor he had earned through his long military and diplomatic career. "You don't think the House of Mollari breast star will give you away?" she asked.

Londo glanced down at the medals adorning his clothing. Slowly and deliberately, he unpinned the medals and marks of distinction, laying them on a nearby table.

Timov's look of disapproval faded as she watched him lay his marks of honor aside. They signified important events in his life along with his duty, his position, and his accomplishments. For as long as she had known him, these things had been deeply intertwined with his sense of self. Perhaps, she thought, he will find the weight he has borne for so long lifted by letting go of all of those things.

After he had unbuttoned his last mark of honor, Londo turned back to Timov, clasping her elbows, "I want you to know that our time together since I woke up from my coma has meant more to me than I can put into words." Londo struggled to keep his emotions at bay, and he grimaced as he tried to find words, but tears abruptly clouded his eyes as he faced their parting.

Timov laid an understanding hand upon his arm. "I think that we have come to understand all of the unspoken things between us."

She gazed at Londo's tear-filled eyes, and she desperately wanted to say the one word that she could not, "Stay." It echoed over and over in her mind, but she could not make herself say it, knowing that, in the end, she could not bear to have him see her final days as she lost her grip over her own body, nor could she protect him from the repercussions of his own volatile emotions if he had to endure her death.

The sounds of his ragged breath told Timov how raw Londo's emotions were. "I do not deserve what you have done for me or our country," he said quietly, his jaw shaking.

"Don't you dare fall apart on me now, Londo Mollari," she chastised him, her own voice beginning to strain with tension. She wiped the tears from his eyes with a gentle tenderness she rarely displayed. "You have saved my life more than once as well, and we have endured distance before—under the Drakh, under armed guard, under penalty of death."

"I only regret the distance that we created between ourselves during the early years of our marriage," Londo replied.

"I also regret that you were a terrible cad during those years," Timov held his gaze before she allowed a smile to cross her face.

Seeing her smile, a smile also crept over Londo's features. "You know, they are going to say we did it all backwards: we were together when we shouldn't have been, apart when we should have been together."

Timov shrugged dismissively, "Conventional relationships are for conventional people, not for reformers."

Londo snorted at the word before gazing softly back at her, his smile fading as silence enveloped them. Neither wished to finalize their goodbye. His voice fell to a whisper as he took her hand, "I can't promise that I will be here next to you, but I promise that I will always be with you." He pressed her hand between his hearts, "And after all these years, all that we have been through, I cannot breathe without the thought of you—I would be lost without you. "

Timov let her fingers curl over his. Stay.

She considered that Londo had, quite literally, left one heart on Babylon 5 and one heart on Centauri Prime. There would always be a piece of him there. Now it was time for the other part of him to return to the stars.

Stay.

"I know," she managed at last, barely able to keep her voice steady as she thought of the shell her illness would reduce her to over the next few months, "and that is why you should go."

Londo grimaced at her last word, "You promised to wait for me, yes? As long as it takes?"

Timov could see the depth of his plea written on his face. He desperately wanted her to infuse her with hope. He needed her to believe that he would find an agony machine or, failing that, that they would find their way back together, somehow, someway.

"Of course I will wait," she told him quietly. Whether in this life or the next.

He drew her into a tight embrace, "And I will find you," he said. His voice fell to a whisper until she had to strain to make out the words, "Even if it is in the dreaming."

Timov closed her eyes and etched the memory as deeply in her memory as she could, the smell of his cologne lingering on her skin, the beating of his artificial hearts, the sound of his breathing.

They remained there, locked together, until finally Timov released him. As she did so, Londo kissed her, drew her hand to his chest, kissed it one final time, and with a heavy step, turned on his heel, headed for G'Kar's vessel, commanding his royal guard to stay behind.

Before the day was out, Emperor Cotto had been informed that G'Kar's vessel had been spotted leaving Centauri space, and the royal guards reported Londo's absence. It was not hard for Vir to piece together what had happened, but to his very great surprise, the Empress Dowager appeared before him in the throne room before the day was out, confirming that Londo had left with G'Kar for the farthest reaches of space.

Vir was still reeling from the news, hurt that Londo had failed to say goodbye, troubled that the royal guards had allowed Londo to leave, and angry that planetary defense had let Londo slip through their grasp, allowing him to undertake a deadly mission.

"How could you?" Vir asked, tears already welling in his eyes. "How could you let him go?"

"I can assure you, it was not my idea," Timov said bluntly, folding her hands.

"It's a suicide mission!" Vir blurted out before clapping his hand over his mouth, his eyes horrified that he had let the words slip out.

Timov gazed steadily, evenly at him before responding. "I know what it is, Vir."

"You could have stopped him," Vir trembled. "He would have listened to you."

"No," Timov said quietly but firmly. "We all have things we have to do, Vir. We cannot hold them back or wish them away. Londo wants a future for his people, and he believes that as long as the Drakh have memories, they will come back to destroy Centauri Prime."

"There's a time for diplomacy," Vir replied. "He was a diplomat – he should know that."

"He was also a soldier, and he knows there is also a time when diplomacy can no longer provide a solution."

"Why are you defending his recklessness?" The tears in Vir's eyes fell, "He won't come back. Neither will G'Kar. And will it solve the Drakh problem? The odds are against it. And not by a little bit. His people need him – I need him, you need him, Corianna needs him, the people need him. Here. Now."

"No, Vir," Timov replied gently. "Londo was right when he stood next to Senna and said that our people needed a fresh start. New leadership. A new vision – something to give them hope. After all that had happened, he could not give that to them. But you can, unsaddled by his presence. He knew that – knew that two emperors cannot share a country from the moment that he awoke from his coma. He has played his part, and now, he must do what he is called to do. No one could stop him, not even me."

"Then you agree with him?" Vir cried out as he furiously wiped his tears away.

"Oh no," Timov shook her head. "It is a fool's errand, but the gods know that has never stopped Londo Mollari in the past."

"Then why didn't you try to stop him?" Vir's shoulders dropped, his eyes pleading.

"Because he would not have stayed, no matter what anyone said," Timov said simply. "We have fought, Londo and I," Timov said, her eyes glazing with the memory of the past, "and I did not wish our last memories to be bitter."

Vir's head dropped to his chest, "He could have said goodbye," he mumbled. He shook his head, his chest heaving, "I told him that I wouldn't forgive him if he left in such a way again."

"Oh Vir," Timov clasped him in an embrace. "You didn't mean it when you said it, and he would have said goodbye if he thought there was any chance you would let him go and do what he believes must be done." She released him, squeezing his hands as she stepped back.

Vir swallowed hard, "You should have let me stop him, even if you wouldn't."

Timov sighed, "Even if we deeply disagree with him, sometimes we must allow those we love to make their own choices. Our power lies in our own choices - we can choose to believe that the starkest possible outcome has come to pass at a date and time we will never know or we can choose to believe that Londo and G'Kar will always be out there, somewhere, watching out for all of us - the Centauri, the Narn, the Alliance - our guardians beyond the Rim. They may sometimes be reckless, but they are also not naïve or shortsighted. If there is a way to find the Drakh base and escape unscathed, they will find it, although it may take them many long years to complete their mission." She squeezed his arm, "You now, I have never had faith in the gods, but I have great faith in the two of them."

Vir bowed his head, and the throne room remained silent for several minutes. At last he raised his head, "Guardians," he echoed, "beyond the Rim."

As Centauri Prime faded into the distance, G'Kar turned from the control panels. He noticed Mollari's back was to him, and the Centauri was staring at the disappearing planet, his hands clasped behind him, uncharacteristically silent, a frown etched deeply in his face.

"We can still go back . . . " G'Kar said quietly.

"No," Londo replied unmoving, his hoarse voice quiet. "I will miss Centauri Prime," he paused and added softly, "and Timov."

G'Kar noticed Mollari shaking his head ever so slightly.

"She is a proud woman," Londo added, "and she does not wish to be remembered broken, ravaged by her own body, brought to her knees by a disease. She can turn the public away at the gates, disappear behind palace walls, but she could not bar me from her presence."

Londo turned from the sight of his home planet at last with a sigh and patted G'Kar's shoulder with a sad smile. "She deserves her dignity, the only thing she has asked from me. After all, she has been an Empress of the Centauri Republic. She has earned it."

G'Kar's eyes narrowed. He perceived what neither Mollari nor Timov would say - they had both known exactly what was happening, an odd dance of respect between the Emperor and his wife. So in the strangest of ways, under the cover of subtle inferences and unspoken truths, they had both delivered what the other needed to carry on, a mutual sacrifice, and somehow, they had affirmed their love in their physical parting.

In the following months, Timov found the Sea Palace's peaceful and idyllic aura lost its appeal after Londo's departure, it's halls too quiet without him, and she finally commanded her household to move back to the Great House so that she could be closer to her growing grandchild in the Capital City, a move that Vir welcomed.

One morning, Illyia appeared at her bedside with a smile. "Your ladyship," she leaned closely so that Timov could hear her better. "You may wish to look out your window this morning."

Timov nodded, stoically enduring the pain as she rose from her bed, and she peered out the bedroom window. She had looked out the same window for years when Londo had been on his diplomatic missions. The view had always been breathtaking. From her window, she could see the land that centuries before had borne crops for House Mollari. But long ago, after House Mollari had gained its wealth and status, the crops had been abandoned, and the fields had been converted to rolling fields with luscious, soft, moss-like grass and the occasional Imperial tree dominating the skyline and stretching out its enormous, thick, burly trunks as a dependable shade tree to anyone enjoying the landscape.

Timov blinked in disbelief at what she saw.

She dressed, her hearts beating quickly, and she hurried out toward the rolling hills to her favorite spot on the grounds underneath the nearest Imperial tree. There, her slight physical exertion caught up with her, and she sat down on a hand-carved marble bench at the base of the old tree.

Around her, the mossy green had been replaced by beautiful Beloveds, a delicate flower that bloomed four times a year. As far as she could see, the rolling hills were filled with their bursts of color.

Her eyes filled with tears. The flowers had received their name because they were said to be beloved by the first emperor, Emperor Toscano, hence their formal name, "Beloved of the Emperor," known colloquially to the Centauri as "Beloveds."

He finally remembered, she thought, reaching forward to touch a nearby Beloved and thinking of Londo's animated instructions to Emanio before he had left. As she touched it, a glimmer of color shot down its petals, quickly returning to its original color of purples and blues and whites. Timov smiled.

"I suppose I can't complain you never gave me any flowers anymore," Timov said quietly, her words swallowed by a gentle breeze. "Nor that your gesture wasn't grand enough to make up for all these years."

Timov breathed in the perfume of the delicate flowers. She was all alone, but she was surrounded by love.

She gazed across the fields for several minutes. She had seen these flowers so many times in her death dream, but she hadn't understood what it had all meant, not until now. And she had never suspected that what her death dream had shown her all of these years was not a frail old woman dying alone, but a woman surrounded by thoughtfulness, dedication, and love.

Looking out over the rolling hills replanted for her, Timov knew that Londo was with her in spirit, if not in body.

Timov enjoyed the blooming of the Beloveds several more times. She looked forward to the passing of each season so that she could see them blooming again. In doing so, she defied her doctor's predictions for some time until one day, underneath the great Imperial tree and surrounded by her Beloveds, a faint smile curved her lips, and her eyes slipped closed, a weight rising from her shoulders.

She had waited long enough on Centauri Prime. Now, it was time to wait elsewhere.

Just over a year after Londo departed for the stars, Emperor Vir Cotto gathered with Delenn, General Ivanova, Michael Garibaldi, and Dr. Stephen Franklin one last time to celebrate with John Sheridan before his life force was depleted. In the presence of his old friends, his memories turned to Londo, and after sharing a story about his friend and predecessor, Vir sighed, a slight smile on his face. "It's funny," he told the friends gathered around the table. "After everything we have been through, all he did," Vir held back tears as he thought of all that had happened since he had met Londo at Babylon 5 so many years before, including the sting of Londo leaving without saying goodbye, "I miss him."

"A toast," Sheridan held up his glass. "To absent friends, in memory still bright."

Everyone around the table held up their glasses, except Vir.

Michael Garibaldi held up his glass, "G'Kar."

At the name, Vir held up his glass, the knowledge that G'Kar and Londo would never return weighing on his mind. "Londo," he added quietly, hoping that somewhere, they were still out there, beyond the Rim, two old friends with a penchant for mischief, creating new adventures and ensuring the safety of the Alliance.

The others joined in the chorus of toasts to their dear friends.

"Lennier," Delenn added.

"M-", Stephen began.

"-Marcus," Ivanova finished the thought for him.

The group drank from their glasses, some from alcohol, some from water, each filled with wonder and sadness at the thought of their departed friends.

Fin

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! This story took ages to write, so please drop me a line or a review and let me know if you liked it!